Put it in the Toaster

Chapters

Chapter 2: In the Office of Tip Tickler
Chapter 3: Coming to Town
Chapter 4: Raiding Lyra’s Fridge
Chapter 5: Apple Juice
Chapter 6: First Day, First Failure
Chapter 7: Toast in the Town
Chapter 8: To Catch the Dash
Chapter 10: There is a Dog in this Chapter
Chapter 11: Flutterbutter
Chapter 12: Unfunny Chapter that Drives the Plot
Chapter 13: The Ivory Tower
Chapter 14: Sad Toast
Chapter 15: Dancy Dancy Sexy Time
Chapter 16: Finishing the Job
Chapter 17: Making Cupcakes
Chapter 18: Serving the Bread
Chapter 20: Punishing the Bad Pony
Chapter 21: I Coudn't Think of A Good Ending, so This is What You Get
Chapter 22, Epilogue: Yup, it’s an Epilogue
Chapter 1: Don't Worry, I'm a Professional
Chapter 9: Pinkie is the Villain in this Story
Chapter 19: Generally Crusty

Chapter 2: In the Office of Tip Tickler

The chair was comfortable and well-stuffed, but Toaster still felt herself being absorbed into it, as though it were trying to eat her. She, personally, did not trust chairs terribly much. They did not seem like something that was practical for ponies, let alone necessary.

As she sat there, glumly, she watched her coworkers walking down the hall near her. They were laughing to each other, telling each other stories of the night before. Most were dressed in bathrobes, and many had their hair tied up in towels, fresh from the showers after a long night of sweating hard. Their joyfulness made Toaster angry and jealous- -but mostly sad about her own failure to do what should have come so naturally to literally any mare in existence.

“Dumb whores,” muttered Toaster, fully aware of the irony in her statement. They might indeed have been whores, but they were at least competent whores. Toaster, meanwhile, was not.

Toaster looked around nervously, and then reached to the office fax machine that sat on a small ornate table next to the row of potentially carnivorous chairs. She slid open the tray and pulled out a piece of paper. Carefully, she ripped off an edge and put it into her mouth.

When the office door swung open, Toaster nearly swallowed the piece of paper. A well-dressed young stallion stepped through the door. He looked around and, spying Toaster imbedded in one of the chairs, sighed.

“Madame Tickler will see you now,” he said.

“I think I’m stuck,” said Toaster.

The stallion sighed, and his horn glowed as Toaster was surrounded in blue light. She was extracted from the chair with an audible popping sound. She was then set gently onto the ground, and she found herself wishing that her own magic could be that useful.

The stallion secretary held open the door as Toaster hesitantly entered the vestibule beyond. The brothel itself was built in an incredibly old building, and had not originally been intended to have office space, but Madame Tickler had made do with what she had. There was a small space for her personal assistant, the stallion, which gave him his own small desk outside her office. The main office was sealed in the back of the room by a heavy wooden door. Every time Toaster saw that door- -and she saw it a lot- -it made her nervous.

She paused for a moment on the well-polished wooden floor, sliding across slowly with a quiet squeak.

“Actually,” she said. “I think I left my oven on, so if you don’t mind…”

“You don’t have an oven,” sighed the stallion. “Our fire insurance barely covers you as is.”

Before Toaster could protest further, he pushed open the door. She gulped; there was no going back now. She took a deep breath and stood as straight as possible as she walked into the room beyond.

Although the secretary’s vestibule was small, the room behind it was actually quite large, both in horizontal dimension as well as in height. The floor was covered in expensive carpet, and the walls lined with sparse, tasteful displays and paintings of various ponies who had once worked in the brothel and achieved great fame by doing so.

In the center was a desk, and before that desk a hard wooden chair.

“Sit,” said a slightly accented voice from the other side of the desk.

Toaster did not hesitate. She sat down in the chair, straightening her formal but still appropriately short dress over her fishnet stockings.

The chair behind the desk swiveled around and Toaster came face to face with an extremely displeased looking Pegasus: her boss, Madame Tip Tickler. Like always, Madame Tickler’s makeup was perfectly applied, her long, golden hair perfectly coiffed, and her sandy grayish wings groomed to the peak of fluffiness.

Madame Tickler looked up at Toaster, and for a moment her real age was apparent through all the makeup. Then she sighed.

“Toaster,” she said. “How many times have I had to call you in here now?”

“Thirty seven,” said Toaster. Then, pausing. “Assuming the concussion didn’t knock out a few. Again.”

Madame Tickler sighed and put her head down on her desk. Then, after a few moments, she sat up and removed a folder from her desk. The opened it and swiveled in her chair, reading it but not reading from it.

“Toaster…of all my girls, you are by far the best trained. You have taken every professional development class that we offer. Most girls take one or two, but you have literally taken them ALL. And not just taken them, not even just passed them- -you passed them all perfectly. Dancing, hospitality, fellatio, bondage, tantric sex, pony sutra, literally every technique that has ever been discovered to please a stallion…you are even one of only seven trained, recognized geisha in all of Canterlot. Physically, you have the flexibility of a Equestria Games gymnast and the stamina of a professional flyer. Not to mention…” she leaned forward quickly, shoving her hoof into Toaster’s mouth and pulling out the scrap of paper that was in there. She held it out in front of Toaster, showing how it had been folded into a tiny, dime-sized paper crane. “This.”

“Dang. I was trying for a giraffe.”

Madame Tickler leaned back in her chair and slapped down the manila folder. “You have even passed the written portions of the exams for Pegasi and unicorns, which alone is impressive considering your lack of wings and your…disability.”

Toaster lowered her eyes, ashamed. Madame Tickler did not seem to notice.

“We have spent over fifteen thousand bits with your education. Arguably, you should be the best prostitute we have…no, the best in all of Equestria. And yet…somehow…that could not be FURTHER from the truth!” She sighed, calming herself, and then turned back to Toaster. “Toaster, dear…how long have you been working for me?”

“Three years,” admitted Toaster.

“And how many clients have you actually succeeded in pleasing?”

“Well- -”

“None,” snapped Madame Tickler, her wings fluffing angrily.

“Well, I almost had the one last night! He almost put it in, too, but then he tried to get away. I nearly got him, though- -”

“And do you know what that is called? Do you? That’s attempted rape, Toaster!”

Toaster sighed and stared directly at the carpet, contemplating its weave. “Did he…did he press charges?”

“No. Of course not. But he could. You’re lucky I’m ‘old friends’ with the DA, or you would probably be in the castle dungeon by now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Toaster, realizing that she had done something wrong even though she was still hazy as to exactly what. Her job, after all, was to have sex- -by whatever means necessary. As she looked down at her legs, she felt a sudden realization. “Do you think it has anything to do with my color?”

“Color?” said Madame Tickler, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Because I’m the color of, well…”

“Hmm…No. I will admit that your color is not ideal for a unicorn- -stallions prefer pale rose or white in horn-mares.” She gestured lightly toward one of the largest paintings hanging on her wall, one of the tall unicorn mare Fleur de Lis. “Your color is more appropriate for an earth pony…and if you were a Pegasus in that shade, you’d be worth your weight in gold. But no. If your color really was a concern, we would just dye you.”

Toaster sat up suddenly and put her front hooves to her neck. “Madame! I know I’m an ugly color, but execution?!”

“Dye, Toaster- -D-Y-E, not D-I-E. But it’s not that bad. If anything, your inability use your horn is a bigger detriment. I can charge twenty percent more for a mare who can use her magic for…certain things. I can’t charge the extra for you. But even THAT is a minor problem. This…” She reached below the desk and pulled out a tall stack of overstuffed folders, tied together with twine. “This is a far greater problem. Do you know what this is?”

“Um…”

“This is your record. These are INCIDENT REPORTS. In all honesty, yes. This is a hard job. I get that sometimes we make mistakes. I’ve made plenty. But half this stuff…I wouldn’t have even thought it was possible if I didn’t know you personally.” She snapped the twine with her teeth and flipped open one of the folders. “I mean, the injury report alone…broken bones, concussions, and, how could I forget, BURNS. You’ve burned up six rooms alone, and more stallions than I can count- -some of them severely. I would say ‘Toaster, stop using your magic’- -but I already tried that. You did. And the burns didn’t even slow down. Actually, they INCREASED.”

“I can’t help it if everything is so flammable…and fragile…”

“Oh, and look at this,” said Madame Tickler, turning the page toward Toaster and displaying a grotesque image. “One stallion had his own horn shoved up his own PLOT.”

“He said he wanted a horn in there!” cried Toaster.

“Yes! YOUR horn, not his OWN! At this point, though, it’s probably better that it wasn’t you- -we’d still be cleaning him off the walls if you had tried a rim-horning.” She sighed and slammed down the paper. “I just don’t get it! You can strip the paint of a training dummy, but the instant we put you in a bedroom with a stallion it becomes a crime scene! And it’s not just that…”

Toaster braced herself for the berating to continue. She knew, of course, that all of it was true. She had been a prostitute for three years, and never once actually had sex with anypony at all. Not for lack of trying, of course, or lack of training. It just never worked properly. Even with prostitution as her special talent, it was a surprisingly difficult job.

“The 29th Street Brothel not the largest in Canterlot,” continued Madame Tickler, “but we are the elite. Our girls are considered the best, and we are considered a model school for the training of young call fillies. We pride ourselves in our skill, our experience, but most of all our discretion.”

“I’m discrete,” protested Toaster.

“Yelling ‘have a sexy night, Prince Blueblood’ as he was leaving our doors at two in the morning was hardly what I would call ‘discrete’. Especially since, until then, he was one of our highest profile- -and highest paying- -customers.”

“But I wanted him to have a sexy night!”

“And the incident at our Sexy Costume event during Nightmare Night,” continued Madame Tickler. “You came dressed as…a clown.”

“Who doesn’t want to have sex with a clown?”

“LITERALLY NO ONE wants to have sex with a CLOWN! Clowns are creepy and weird, not sexy!”

“I like clowns…”

“You would. Because you…it’s like you don’t understand how a normal pony’s mind works, or…how a pony is supposed to behave. You are a pony, right?”

“If I’m a griffon, nopony told me.”

“Griffon…” said Tickler, getting distracted for a moment and writing something down on a pad. “Not a bad idea…ehem.” She looked up, remembering what she was doing. “But the list goes on. Like the time with that strap-on…”

“Hey, it was dark! I couldn’t see!”

“My plot still hurts! Or, of course, the incident with the…the banana…”

They both shuddered violently. “Yeah,” said Toaster. “Even I admit that that one was pretty bad. What ever happened to that guy?”

“He was voluntarily gelded and became a priest of Celestia.”

“Oh. Good for him.”

“No. That is not a good thing, Toaster.”

Toaster sighed and looked up at her boss. “I’m sorry. But I’m getting better. I think. Kind of. I promise I’ll bed the next one. I really do.”

“No, you won’t.”

Madame Tickler reached into the pile with her mouth and dexterously removed a single folder, one much smoother and newer than all the others. She slid it across the table toward Toaster. Toaster looked down at it and gasped when she saw the ornate piece of pink-colored paper attached to the front with a shiny metal clip.

“You’re…you’re firing me?” she squeaked in panic. She looked up at Madame Tickler, her eyes wide. “But…but…please, Madame Tickler! I know I can do better! Please! Just one more chance!”

“Do you think I’m doing this because of your failures, toaster?” asked Madame Tickler, looking up at her framed painting of Fleur de Lis. “Yes, you have accumulated and…impressive array of disasters, but you still try. Were the situation different, I could transfer you to an indefinite role as window dressing.”

“But then…why?”

Madame Tickler swiveled suddenly in her chair, and focused her eyes straight on Toasters. Toaster suddenly felt terrified, as if she wanted to jump over the chair and run, or tunnel into the floor. She momentarily wondered if she had the magical potential to cut would, and realized that she probably did.

“Because you lied to me,” said Madame Tickler, bluntly.

“L- -lied?”

Tickler slammed her fist into the table and flipped open the folder, pointing to the medical report inside. “From your last STD examination. I didn’t believe it at first, but I trust our doctor explicitly. You, Toaster, are a virgin.”

Toaster’s jaw dropped and she stuttered incoherently for several seconds. Then she stopped for a moment, collected herself, and continued to stutter incoherently. Finally, after remembering what she had been so concerned about, the protested.

“I am not!” she cried. “I told you- -I got poked my first time on the night of pony prom!”

“You never attended pony prom,” said Madame Tickler sharply. She flipped through several folders. “In fact, as far as we can tell, you never even attended school. Not just high school- -no school at all. In fact, there’s no record of you anywhere- -you have no birth certificate, no medical records, nothing. It’s as if you just appeared three years ago on our doorstep.”

“Well, I- -”

“But you ARE a virgin. And as you know, according to Canterlot law, virgins are not allowed to practice prostitution.”

“Yes, but…but…so what if I am?! It’s a stupid law! How am I supposed to lose my virginity if I can’t have sex? And how can I have sex if I’m not getting paid?!”

Madame Tickler’s eyes narrowed. “I helped get that law passed, Toaster,” she said.

“But…but why?”

“Because I started my career when I was MUCH younger than you. They auctioned off my virginity, and I still don’t even know the name of the stallion that deflowered me. But I do remember what it felt like. We don’t sell a pony’s virginity. That’s just sick.”

“But I’m not a filly! I’m…” Toaster paused. She was not actually sure how old she was. Having a birth certificate, she suddenly realized, probably would actually be useful. She made a mental note to acquire one, assuming that it did not require being born a second time. “…I’m not a filly! Or a colt! I’m a full-grown, fully operational mare! Come on, Madame, I know you have some sway in this…”

“I do,” she said. She flipped over a page in Toater’s folder and exposed an official looking document. Once again, Toaster’s eyes widened.

“You…you reported me,” she gasped, picking up the sheet. “They...they’ve revoked my license!”

“You are no longer legally allowed to practice prostitution within Canterlot city limits. Regardless of whether you can manage to ‘break yourself in’ without turning your partner into a pile of ash.”

“But…but why?” Toaster’s eyes were wide, and she could fell big, sad tears rolling down her face.

Madame Tickler leaned forward. “It’s not even the incompetence,” she said. “And, by Celestia, you are incompetent. No. I love every one of my girls as if they were my own sexy, sexy daughters. I would die for any of them, even you. But you lied to me. Toaster, you broke my heart. I cannot trust you anymore.”

“But, Madame Tickler…”

“Without a prostitution license, you no longer have any business living in a brothel.” Her expression softened for a moment, and she was forced to look away. “You are to pack your bags and leave.”

“But…where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to so? Prostitution is my life, it’s my special talent!”

“Is it?” said Tickler. She swiveled her chair all the way around. “Just leave, Toaster. You are dismissed.”

Toaster stood up, and found that she was shaking. Her mind was racing, but there was nothing she could do. Without a license, no brothel would take her, and nopony would purchase use of a freelance hooker in Canterlot. Especially one that was known through the community for “immolations”.

“Thank you, Madame Tickler,” said Toaster, though her tears. She bowed, and then turned for the door.

“Toaster,” said Madame Tickler, her wings ruffling just slightly. She looked over her shoulder. “A word of advice, Toaster. You and I, we are whores. We will give a stallion whatever he wants so long as he has the bits. We give sex so many times, it becomes meaningless- -but you can only give your virginity once. Don’t be like me, Toaster. Give that gift to a pony you truly love, if you can.”

Toaster looked back, but then left without a word. Like so many things, she did not understand what Madame Tickler had meant.

The wind blew stiffly. The day, like most days, was cold. Many ponies tended to forget that Equestria’s capital was built high in a mountain. The air was surprisingly thin, and the weather tended to be cold, even during the summer. Many of the ponies walking through the streets were wearing jackets over their coats, or ornate and excessive clothing to protect them against the innately harsh weather.

Toaster, of course, was not wearing any such thing. She was instead dressed in a tiny skirt, fishnet stockings, and a highly revealing blouse. She was not cold, though; Toaster never got cold, even during the winter.

She sighed and leaned against the railing. Below her, Equestria extended outward to the distant horizon. All of it seemed so small from above, and at the same time, so much larger than the tiny building where she had spent the last three years of her life.

On only a few occasions had Toaster actually ventured outside. Her coworkers had always thought it extremely strange, but Toaster had no need to leave the brothel. There was nothing outside that she wanted.

Not that Toaster disliked being outside, of course. Mentally, she saw no difference between the two. What did bother her, though, was that there was now no “inside”. She had no home, and because of her failure at her career, no money. Her only possessions were several sets of work clothing that had been neatly folded into a suitcase at her side. She had never had anything else.

Toaster leaned on the railing and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Stupid laws being all stupid…and dumb…” She turned to couple standing next to her who were admiring the view. “So what if I shoved a stallion’s horn up his plot? Is that a crime? Oh, wait, yes it is…but it’s not like it’s even actually that painful. I can do it to myself easily! Want to see?”

They did not answer, but rather backed away slowly- -before breaking into a run.

“But now I can’t even do that for money…” sighed Toaster, putting her head on the railing. “Not in Canterlot, anyway…”

Then, suddenly, she gasped and bolted upright. Her course on prostitution law came flooding back to her, and ideas burned through her mind. She broke out into a smile.

“I can’t sell my body in Canterlot,” she said, “but that statute only applies to the city proper…” The realization crystalized in her mind. “So I just need to go somewhere else!”

She paused for a moment, and grimaced. “But not just anywhere else. Not some city with tight markets and tighter-plotted patrons. I need to expand into new territories. And have my territories expanded into by more stallions.”

She giggled slightly, and a passerby stepped back, no doubt going to find a city guard. Toaster did not care, though; she could outrun most of the city guards, considering how almost all of them had taken arrows to the knee at one point or another.

Instead of running, she scanned the horizon. Most of it was mountains, or forest- -the Everfree Forest, in particular. Toaster knew that some ponies lived in there, but the quantity was too low to turn a profit. She needed a settlement, but not one big enough to have its own preexisting network of brothels.

Then her eyes caught the glimmer of a distant structure. Of a castle made of solid crystal, looming over a tiny and distant town.

“Yes!” said Toaster, standing up on the railing. “That will do nicely! I have no idea if that is even a real town, but I am going to go there.” She grinned and laughed to herself. “And not one stallion will escape my grasp!” She prepared to jump off the ledge, but then stopped suddenly. “Whoa, oops! Forgot. Not a Pegasus. Can’t fly. Oh boy, that would have been messy. That’s like, a five thousand foot drop. Got to remember that.”

She opted instead to find a different means of transport.

Chapter 3: Coming to Town

Toaster hyperventilated steadily and desperately clutched the edge of the hot air balloon’s basket. She was suspended hundreds of feet over the air- -by wicker. In a basket. Wicker chairs were already a stretch- -a highly flammable stretch, as Toaster had learned- -but that anypony had ever figured this out was mind boggling.

“Um, are you okay?” asked the stallion who was commanding the balloon.

“No!” cried Toaster emphatically. “This is too scary!” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Ponies were not meant to fly!” This, of course, being said just as a small group of Pegasi passed by effortlessly.

“Don’t worry,” said the stallion, adjusting his scarf and goggles. “I haven’t dropped one yet!”

“‘Yet’…”

“Yet…”

Toaster gulped and looked below. They were passing over a lake. She realized that she was not sure if she knew how to swim. The deepest water she had ever been in was the communal bath at the brothel, and even then, she almost never bathed- -because, of course, it was not a good idea to put a toaster in a bathtub, which was actually something Toaster had learned from experience. Several times.

“We’re almost there,” said the pilot, pulling the string to pour more hot air into the balloon. “Ponyville sure is a nice place. I think you’ll like it there. Going to see family, or business?”

“Business,” said Toaster, curled in the bottom of the basket. She peeked out from under her foreleg. “I intend to accumulate large sums of bits by selling my body on the streets.”

The stallion’s eyes widened, and even in the small basket of the hot air balloon, he backed away.

“Um…okay…”

They were silent for a moment, and the pilot pulled the string again, as if trying to make the balloon go faster.

“Say…” said Toaster, her special talent overtaking her fear. She smiled and stood, causing the basket to tip slightly. “That reminds me. I need to pay you for this journey.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s normally thirty bits. But for you, I’ll go with ten.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Oh…well, I guess that’s okay- -”

Toaster smiled manically and the stallion shrank away from her. She slowly started to cross the basket. “I am aware of the rule, though. I have no cash, and no grass to eat…so that means you’re getting…”

She flipped around and lifted her rump to him. “Go ahead,” she said, softly. “Join my mile-high club. And I am about eighty percent sure I won’t give you anything that can’t be cured with antibiotics!”

“That won’t be necessary!” said the stallion, his voice going oddly high as Toaster pushed herself against him, swaying her tail in preparation. “It’s on the house!”

“No it isn’t,” snapped Toaster. “I do not accept charity. I HAVE to pay for this ride! By giving you a ride, as the case may be.”

“I’d rather not…”

“Oh come on,” said Toaster, folding her upper body down and beneath her lower legs, turning upward to look at the stallion from below and momentarily admiring her own genitals and mammates. “I mean, look at that. I would totally penetrate that. If I were a stallion. But, as you can clearly see, I am not. I mean, look right there.”

“I’d rather not,” said the stallion, blushing heavily and turning his head away.

“Oh,” said Toaster, immediately understanding. “So you want it in my mouth, then.”

She folded her body back into the proper conformation so that she was now facing the stallion, a maneuver that caused him to shudder violently for some reason. Then Toaster got on her knees and pushed herself against him.

“Just like eating a soysage,” she said. “Except with less biting. Or more.” She snapped her front teeth together with a loud click that made the stallion jump in fright, closing his rear knees together suddenly.

Then Toaster moved in for the metaphorical- -or, based on past experiences, potentially not so metaphorical- -kill. She shoved her head between his legs, extending her tongue, and the stallion promptly responded by jumping out of the hot air balloon entirely.

Toaster immediately stood up and watched him fall. He took a surprisingly long time to drop into the lake below, where he hit with a loud splash. As the balloon, now pilotless, drifted away, Toaster saw him bob to the surface.

“Well, that’s just great,” she said, looking up at the balloon. “Intended to be sarcastic, of course. Because this is not at all great. I have no idea how to fly a balloon.”

She pulled the string, and it released a plume of fire that caused the balloon to rise slightly.

“Okay,” she said, not knowing where the steering was but confident that she knew how to make ti go up. “Well…how hard can this be?”

Down below, on the floor of the Everfree Forest, Zecora trudged through swampy mud, as she did most days. The forest indeed had prodigious quantities of mud, as well as trees, but being unable to fly, Zecora was unable to trudge through those.

She scanned the swampy floor for signs of plant life that she might use in her potions. After a moment, she found a small plant that was one of very few that she did not recognize.

“A new plant?” she said, approaching it. “This could indeed be worth a king’s ransom…but there is only way to find out if it is indeed not poison.”

She reached down and ate the small spring. She chewed on it for a long moment. It tasted sweet, but also sulfurous and weirdly spicy.

Then, from above, she heard a distant sound. She looked up. Passing above her were the flaming remnants of a hot air balloon descending rapidly over the treetops, crashing into branches and treetops. Zecora had never once seen a balloon move so quickly, and within seconds it was out of sight.

She looked down at the plant, and then turned away. “Either I just saw something quite incredible,” she said to herself. “Or that sprig is DEFINITLY not edible…”

As the balloon broke past the treetops, the basket finally lost integrity. Toaster fell through the bottom, slamming into tree branches for nearly forty feet one after another until she finally fell to the ground below, producing a small crater.

The impact had been substantial, and momentarily disoriented her.

“Ohhhh…” she said, turning her head. “What happened…?” She looked behind her, and saw the hot air balloon slam into a nearby field and burst into a tremendous fiery explosion- -which was strange, considering how it was just full of air and not any flammable gasses at all. “Oh, that.” She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t see that coming.”

“Are you alright?” said a voice. Toaster looked up at the edge of her shallow crater, and the face of a blue unicorn stallion came into view.

“Hold on,” said Toaster. She patted herself down with her hooves. “Let’s see…no broken bones, not impaled, horn is…” She touched it, and felt a tingle go through her body. “Still there. So yes. I do believe this rather rocky soil broke my fall.”

“Well, then, that is good.” He reached down into the shallow hole, and Toaster took his hoof. The first thing she noticed was how weirdly cold it was, colder than any pony rightfully should be.

“Thank you,” she said, momentarily inspecting the stallion. He was of ordinary height and build for a unicorn, colored pale blue with white hair. He looked rather ordinary, save for his cold, gray eyes and how he seemed almost to be glaring even with a neutral expression.

Of course, Toaster did not care much. She instead noticed that he was completely naked, aside from his cutie mark- -a snowflake- -and therefore had no place to store bits. He was not a potential target.

“You were lucky that you were not in the balloon when it crashed,” said the gray-eyed pony, looking back to the nearby flaming wreckage.

“Yes. It was quite lucky that I fell forty feet through various branches and birds and landed onto rocky soil.”

“Birds?”

Toaster coughed, and a plume of feathers and a small starling popped out of her mouth. It squawked angrily, and then flew away. “Birds.” She looked at him again. “Do you know the nearest way to town?”

“To Ponyville?”

“Probably. Rustic town, big weird castle? Probably infested with hillbillies?”

“It’s over that way,” said the unicorn, pointing. “Just go back that way…”

He turned away from her and started walking into the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?”

“I have business to attend to.”

“So do I,” said Toaster, more to herself than to the stallion, who had now shambled out of earshot. “So do I.”

By the time Toaster reached the edge of the settlement, the sun was on its way to late afternoon. That was not in and of itself a problem; Toaster did her best work at night. That, and being dark brown, sunlight made her heat up quickly, and nobody liked a sweaty prostitute. At least not when they started.

The fields of grass eventually gave way to a path, and then to buildings. They were not large, and their architecture was quaint. Toaster was surprised to see that the rooves were actually thatched. It was not at all like Canterlot. Looking behind her, Toaster could actually see her former home clinging to the side of a distant mountain.

Before she could enter the city proper, though, Toaster suddenly stopped.

“I suddenly feel as though I am being watched,” she said to herself. She slowly turned her head to the right, and found her nose less than an inch away from the nose of a bright pink pony with a poofy pink mane and a pair of blue eyes staring directly into hers. “Ah. I am. How very…pink…”

The earth pink pony gasped deeply and jumped back. “GASP! How did you know my NAME!” She leaned closer and whispered. “Are you psychic?”

Toaster’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you and how did you get my psychological profile? I’ll have you know that I am probably not ACTUALLY psychotic!”

“Um…was that supposed to be a joke?”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh, well, my name’s Pinkie Pie and I greet EVERY new pony that comes to Ponyville but don’t tell my YOUR name because I really am psychotic I mean psychic well not really but I do have a certain sense if you know what I mean…” Pinkie Pie then took an extremely deep breath, her dearth of punctuation having depleted her oxygen. “How about…Brownie Butt? Grassy Growth? Flushy- -um…what are you wearing?”

“Fishnet stockings, a skirt, and this little blouse,” said Toaster, taking inventory. That was a strange question; she had assumed that it would be obvious.

“Well…um…okay…” She paused for a moment, but then smiled and began to circle Toaster with a number of springy and oddly audible leaps. “But since you’re new to Ponyville, I’ll have to throw you a party! Or, if you don’t like crowds, I can always just have you over for cupcakes!”

Toaster looked directly at the oddly energetic pony. “Contrary to my appearance,” she said. “I am not actually mint-chocolate flavored.”

“Um…what? Silly, what does that have to do with anything?”

“I mean, if you were to convert me into cupcakes, they would taste pretty foul.”

Pinkie Pie froze. “You mean…make cupcakes out of PONIES? EEEEWWW! Why would you even think of doing that? Why would you ruin a good cupcake with so much…red, gooey flavor? I’ve never, EVER made a cupcake out of a pony, and I certainly don’t have a facility in my basement for processing meat!”

“I didn’t mention anything about your basement,” said Toaster. “And of course, I normally would offer you a free taste, but I have a strict no-mares policy. I’m not a lespony.”

“Taste? What kind of a…what kind of a taste?”

“A taste from wherever you want,” said Toaster, winking.

Pinkie Pie’s expression dropped, and she backed away slowly. “I knew something smelled fishy!” she said. “And more than just your socks! You’re- -you’re- -you’re a HARLOT!”

“Yes, I am,” said Toaster, taking a moment to recall what the old-timey word meant. “Well, most of the time. Not when I’m sleeping. Unless you pay extra.”

Pinkie Pie’s expression narrowed, and her hair suddenly shifted and uncurled, rendering it perfectly straight. Now it was Toaster’s turn to take a step back. The pink earth pony seemed to have become a different pony entirely, and she looked like a madpony. Toaster was afraid; she was only a common hooker, and had no way to defend herself in a fight.

Instead, though, Pinkie Pie turned around and ran back into the village, screaming to the buildings and to whoever she passed.

“Harlot! A harlot! Everypony run! She’s coming to corrupt the youth and steal our waifus!”

Toaster watched her go, and watched several of the ponies in the street turn to look back at her. Then she shrugged, not understanding what was going on, and started to make her way into her new territory.

As she did, the wind suddenly picked up. Toaster turned her eyes to the sky, where clouds were starting to gather. As she did, a raindrop fell into her eye.

“Gah! Blind!” she cried, rubbing her eye. She opened and closed her eye, trying to clear it of the rainwater.

Then the sky opened up, and it started to rain. Hard.

“Well,” said Toaster, looking down at her suddenly sopping body. “Now I am wet. And not in a good way. This is unpleasant.”

She looked to the town, and realized that she would need to find shelter. She needed to find a place to stay, like a house or some manner of dwelling.

“But how am I supposed to do that?” she asked herself.

As if in response, a newspaper blown by the wind suddenly slapped into her face, covering it.

“Noooo!” she cried, rearing. “Don’t eat my face! I need that!”

In all her protests, she suddenly inhaled, sucking the newspaper into her throat. For a moment she paused, blinking, wondering where it went, and then coughed it back up.

She took it in her hooves, and looked at it. It was most certainly a newspaper, and by the flavor of it, it was printed with some high-quality vegetable ink. Toaster made a mental note to eat it later.

“The Foal-Free Press,” she read, flipping it over. The ink was starting to run in the rain, but before it became totally illegible, Toaster saw an advertisement in the classified section. She smiled, realizing that she had just found her new home.

Chapter 4: Raiding Lyra’s Fridge

Lyra Heartstrings awoke suddenly from her sleep with a cry. She looked around her darkened room at the shelves and racks and paintings, and another bolt of lightning lit the room, casting the various pieces of furniture in harsh shadow. A second rumble of thunder followed.

“Just thunder,” said Lyra, pulling her blankets back over her and laying back down. She listened to the sound of the rain on the windows and started to go back to sleep- -until she heard a different sound.

She bolted upright again. This time, she knew that the sound had not been thunder, and that she had not dreamt it- -something was moving downstairs. Somepony was in her house.

Lyra jumped out of bed and picked up a large piece of steel pipe that had been leaning against the wall, and then paused, waiting for the sound again. After several seconds, she heard it again- -something clanking together, now in a different location beneath her.

On the room’s writing desk, Lyra had left an unfinished helmet that she had been working on just before sleep, and she picked it up in her magic and pushed it over her head. It left her teal horn exposed, unfortunately, but an incomplete brain bucket was better than no brain bucket at all.

She moved to open the door, but a terrifying thought suddenly occurred to her: what if the sound was not actually an intruder? What if it was a PARASPRITE?

Lyra looked at the pipe, and then gently set it down. Her horn ignited with orange light as she reached under her bed, pulling from beneath a broadsword that was as long as she was tall. That, she determined, was as adequate as she could get.

Slowly, she opened the door and moved silently through the hallways of her silent house, pushing open the doors as she went. As her orange light lit each room, she saw that there was nothing hiding inside, aside from the piles of supplies and incomplete works looming like semi-dead beasts, waiting to once again rise.

Finally, she made her way down the staircase, trying desperately to avoid making it creak. She was shaking with fear, not knowing what to expect. Then, as she neared the edge, she saw it: a light.

Carefully, she poked her head around the doorframe and gasped. There, in her kitchen, was a pony. Lyra could not see anything more than her silhouette; she was framed against the light of the refrigerator, which she was standing in front of and rummaging through.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief- -it was just an intruder, not an insect. She knew how to deal with ponies. With her magic grasping the handle of her sword, she moved in swiftly and with absolute silence, raising it over her head. As she approached, though, the pony’s head suddenly swiveled almost entirely around, and she looked down at Lyra, a six pound block of cheese in her mouth.

With a cry, Lyra jumped back, fumbling for the light switch. Her hoof clattered against the wall in a panic until she finally found it, and with a strong snap the mercury vapor lamps in the ceiling were flooded with current, illuminating the room.

As soon as the light appeared, Lyra realized that she had not seen what she had thought she had seen. Instead of being turned all the way around, the brown pony was simply looking over her shoulder. She was weirdly flexible, but not an owl.

“Hello,” said the pony, the cheese dropping from her mouth and onto the floor. “Woops,” she said, looking down, and then back up. Lyra did not know why, but the brown, green-haired mare was wearing a frilly green saddle, despite it being the middle of summer. “Nice Zweihander. You must be Leera Heartstrings. You are bluer than I expected.”

“I’m not blue,” snapped Lyra. “I’m GREEN. Teal, in fact. Possibly turquoise. And it’s pronounced ‘Lyra’! Who are you and what are you doing in my house, eating all my cheese?”

“I’m Toaster,” said Toaster, as though it were obvious. “I’m your new roommate.”

“Roommate?” said Lyra, still confused.

“Yeah.” Toaster pulled out a half-eaten newspaper from under her saddle. “I saw your add. You were asking for a roommate. So, that’s me now.”

“That’s not how it works,” said Lyra. “And I posted that ad almost three months ago. I’ve since secured funding. I don’t need a roommate. Go away. And leave the cheese!”

Toaster stopped, her mouth now open and inches from the floor-cheese.

“Aww,” she said, lifting her head. “And I just moved my stuff in…”

“Your stuff…wait, where?!” Lyra had checked every room on the way downstairs, and the ground floor was a single open room adjacent to her garage. None of it had had anything that was not hers.

“In the basement,” said Toaster.

“Basement…this house doesn’t have a basement…”

“Then where did I move my stuff?”

“I don’t know! Wait…please tell me you don’t mean the crawlspace…”

“I don’t know what that word means. But if it is the room below this house, yes. I assumed that was the room you were offering.”

“No, that’s not what I- -”

“Hey, cool!” said Toaster, crossing into Lyra’s living room and looking up at a large banner emblazoned with the sign of a thistle. “You’re a fan of the Questlords of Inverness?”

“Sure…a fan…” She paused. “How do you even know that name?”

“The Questlords? I just do. I just came here from Canterlot, after all.”

“Canterlot?” said Lyra, for the first time lowering her sword and following Toaster into the other room. “I’m from Canterlot too.”

“Really? Neat.”

Lyra sighed. “What is it exactly that you do Ms….Toaster? Wait, nevermind. I don’t care. Do you want the room?”

“Yes,” said Toaster, her eyes widening and a broad smile crossing her face.

“Interview time. Have you ever killed a pony?”

“Actually, no. I haven’t.”

“Good enough for me. Rent is one hundred bits a month. Can you pay?”

“Oh yes,” said Toaster, smiling in a way that made Lyra uncomfortable. “I will definitely pay…”

“Fine. Basic rules, though.” She pointed at the still open refrigerator, which she now saw was almost completely devoid of food. “You don’t touch my food or my stuff without asking. Got that?”

“It is got,” said Toaster. “With the amount of money I’ll be making, I can by tons of my own food.”

“Good. Now, I suppose you’ll want to move into one of the upstairs rooms. I can clear the machining lab if you’ll help with the lathe. Or don’t mind sleeping beneath a lathe.”

“It’s fine,” said Toaster. “I like the room I already have.”

“In the crawlspace? Really?” Lyra shivered, knowing that the cramped space beneath her house was dirty and filled with spiders. She never went down there herself unless she absolutely had to.

“It smells nice.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“Eh,” shrugged Toaster. She crossed the room toward the door, and opened it, allowing a sudden gust of wind and rain to enter the room. Lyra shielded herself, but Toaster seemed to ignore it completely. “Well, I’m going back downstairs. Big day tomorrow. I’ll see you later, new roommate.”

Toaster stepped out into the rain and closed the door. Lyra walked over to the kitchen window, and watched through the glass as Toaster scrambled into the narrow space beneath the house. Lyra watched her go, and then slowly took off her partial helmet and set it on the counter.

“Wow,” she said, sitting in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. “That was weird. I think I need to stop using lead solder.” She looked around at the mess on her floor, and realized something was missing. “Hey! She took my cheese!”

Lyra sighed, and then wondered what she had just gotten herself into.

Chapter 5: Apple Juice

The next morning was moist, but otherwise sunny and pleasant. Without torrential rain, moving through the village was much easier, and Toaster could actually see the things that surrounded her. As she initially expected, it was a quaint, rural village. Many of the houses and buildings were highly ornate, but they were all short and largely constructed out of wood.

Of the buildings, the only one that Toaster actually considered entering was a confectionary- -that is, until she realized that she still had no money. Looking up at the windows, however, she saw the straight-haired pink pony looking down at her, glaring. Toaster waved, but Pinkie Pie just slammed her curtains closed so loudly that Toaster was sure that she actually heard the sound of them sliding shut.

So, Toaster continued on, trotting happily down the streets. She had adjusted her clothing once again to appear as professional as possible: now she was wearing rear fishnets as well as front ones that stopped at her wrists, as well as all the appropriate makeup. The ponies around her seemed to appreciate her dedication to her role; they all looked at her, and she could hear them speaking as she passed. She could not hear what they were saying, but she assumed it was about how smashing she looked in her outfit and how glad they were to have a prostitute patrolling the streets for lonely stallions.

Of course, Toaster was not currently looking for customers. She needed to scope out the town, to determine what exactly “Ponyville” was. She had no knowledge of the world outside the brothel or the immediate area around it in Canterlot, so she needed to understand how many ponies made up her customer base and what she could expect from them. Unfortunately, so far it seemed that at least seventy percent were female. That annoyed Toaster to no end; although she was willing to debase herself completely for any stallion with money, she was not willing to have sex with a mare. That would just be inappropriate.

After several minutes of walking through the picturesque town, Toaster suddenly stopped on the side of a building. This one, unlike the others, appeared to be made of brick. That gave her an idea.

Toaster stepped back from the wall, and lowered her head. The tip of her horn ignited with red light, and then the magic divided into sixteen narrow red beams that independently swarmed over the surface of the wall. When she was done, Toaster stepped back and admired the image she had carved into the still-smoking brick. It was a large sign that said “For a Good Time, See Toaster”, complete with an ornate and accurate drawing of herself in a highly suggestive position, only partially covered with a blanket.

“Who’s a sexy pony?” said Toaster, leaning in toward the image of her. “What’s that? I’M a sexy pony? Oh, why thank you, scorch-mark Toaster. You’re not so bad yourself.”

She giggled, and then turned away- -only to be knocked back as she bumped into something heavy and dense.

“Ow!” she said, being partially knocked backward. “My squeegly-spooch!”

“Brother, watch out where you’re going!” said a female voice from partially above. “You can’t just run into ponies like that!”

“Yeah, I charge for stuff like that,” said Toaster, coming back to her senses. As her eyes came back into focus, she found herself staring into a pair of golden eyes- -eyes that were not looking back at her, but rather at either side. “Um…did I give you a concussion?”

“No,” said the stallion. “I was ‘born’ like this.” He suddenly reached out and licked Toaster’s nose.

“Hey!” said Toaster, jumping back.

“Hmm…” said the stallion, who Toaster now saw was a gray Pegasus- -weirdly enough, standing directly below a nearly identical female Pegasus who was flapping above him, her similarity so close that even her own eyes were looking in two different directions. “Needs more butter…”

“Oh, Bread,” said the floating Pegasus, dropping to his side. “She’s not supposed to taste like butter! That’s for later, when you and I get all greased up…”

“Um, eew!” said Toaster. “You can’t get buttered up with your sibl…” Before she could finish her sentence, she made a sudden realization based on their eyes. “Actually, now that you mention it, that does make a lot of sense…”

“So does cutting a dollar into one hundred pieces,” noted the stallion.

“Really?” said Toaster and the gray mare at the same time.

“No. Not at all.”

“Oh.”

The female Pegasus dropped down next to her brother. They were so similar that Toaster could almost not tell them apart.

“I don’t recognize you,” she said, derping heartily. “Are you new to Ponyville?”

“Yes,” said Toaster. “I just moved here yesterday. I live in Leera’s basement. I’m a prostitute.”

“Really? Oh, I just love Lyra. She’s so teal. And my next door neighbor!”

“Neigh-bor,” noted the male stallion, drawing attention to the pun.

“My name’s Muffins,” said the female Pegasus.

“Muffins? Really?”

“What’s wrong with Muffins?” said the stallion.

“Nothing. They’re delicious. But it’s…well, it’s just sounds terribly sexual. ‘Hey, mind if I squeeze your muffins?’ or ‘hey, look at the muffins on that one.’”

“She does have an excellent pair,” said the stallion.

“Well, I’m not the only one,” said Muffins, leaning against her brother.

“Eew,” repeated Toaster. “Again, siblings.”

“And this is Bread,” said Muffins, pointing at the stallion. She put her hoof to her mouth and whispered in a voice that was louder than her speaking voice. “But between you and me, he’s still a little half-baked.”

“I assure you, I am quite baked,” said Bread. “You can probably tell by the smell.”

“And you are?”

Toaster turned her flank around and lifted up her skirt, specifically to Bread. She pointed at her cutie mark. “I am called Toaster. Because there is one on my butt.”

“Oh. I can ship it,” said Muffins.

“Excuse me?”

“Never miiiiind…” she said with a smile.

“Say,” said Toaster to Bread. “You wouldn’t be interested in renting a mare, would you?”

“I have a mare,” he said, pointing to Muffins. “A mare right there.”

“Ah. I see. Well, would you happen to know any stallions that might be interested?”

“In what?” said Muffins, confused.

“I saw a rather large red stallion back a bit,” said Bread. “Red fellow. Tiny little tail. Vending apples.”

“Oh! That’s Big Macintosh!” said Muffins, “yes! He most definitely is a stallion!”

“Well, if he isn’t, I always check first,” said Toaster.

“I always check to see if stallions are carrying muffins,” said Muffins. She sighed and her expression fell. “They almost never are…”

Bread passed her a muffin- -Toaster had no idea where he had gotten it from- -and Muffin’s expression lightened. She hugged her brother, and then the pair of them took flight.

“We’ll see you later, Toaster!” said Muffins. “Maybe we’ll have you over for muffins!”

“I wouldn’t taste good in- -oh, never mind,” said Toaster, turning away just as Muffins and Bread simultaneously ran headlong into a pair of separate lampposts. “There is work to be done…”

Big Macintosh groaned as he pulled another hay bale off the tremendous stack and moved it across the barn and onto a waiting cart that was already mostly full of hay. As he lifted the heavy bale into place, a second pony joined him, moving another bale onto the cart with slightly more difficulty.

Moving hay was hard work, and Big Macintosh paused for a moment, wiping away the sweat from his forehead. The other stallion working with him stepped down from the cart as well, and Braeburn removed his hat and wiped his own dripping mane.

“Oh wow,” said Braeburn, laughing as he looked up at the hay that they had spent the latter part of the morning stacking. “Heavy work, isn’t it?”

“Eeeiyup,” replied Big Mac, nodding. He picked up a small canteen of water and tossed it to his cousin, who caught it easily. Big Mac then picked up his own, and they took a break as they sipped on the cool water inside each of the vessels.

“Can’t thank you enough for donating all this spare hay,” said Braeburn after a moment. “We’ve been havin’ the worst drought over in Appleloosa, and this will really help us ‘til the rain comes.” He laughed slightly. “Plus, I bet you need the space in the barn, what with cider season comin’ up and all.”

“Eeiyup,” affirmed Bic Mac.

“Plus, I always love a chance to come and see mah favorite cousin.” They both smiled and high-hoofed. As Big Mac put down his canteen and moved to go back to work, Braeburn cleared his throat.

“Actually,” he said. “On that note, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Eeiyup?”

“Purely hypothetical, of course. But do you think it’s okay for cousins to…you know…be attracted to one another.”

Braeburn had been expecting on of Big Mac’s signature one-word answers, but much to his surprise, Bic Mac seemed to consider it for a moment. Then he stood up straight, releasing the hay bale he had been about to lift. He looked Braeburn in the eye.

“Now, that depends,” he said, slowly. “If you mean me and a certain pair of Pie sisters, then, eeeeiyup. If you mean you and either of my sisters…” He slammed one of his front hooves into the other and glared down at Braeburn, who was slightly smaller than he was. “Then NOPE.”

“Calm down, calm down!” cried Braeburn. “I didn’t mean nothin by it! I wasn’t talkin’ about Applejack or Applebloom at all!”

“Good,” said Big Mac, returning to his work. As he bent down to pick up the hay bale, Braeburn could not help but admire the view presented to him.

“Not talking about your sisters at all…” he said to himself, blushing.

Big Macintosh did not notice his cousin leering behind him. Instead, he pulled away the hay bale, opening a small square in the pile. He jumped back with a cry when he saw a pair of green eyes staring back at him from the void.

“What is it?” cried Braeburn. “A spider?!”

“N- -nope!”

Toaster smiled from the hay, and then pulled herself out, her body contorting out of the uncomfortable position she had been compressed into. Her smile never left her, and in a few seconds, she had completely righted herself in the center of the barn.

“How- -how did you even get in there?” demanded Braeburn.

“Hmm…” said Toaster, her eye shifting between the pair of stallions now before her. “Two strong country boys, all sweaty from a hard day’s work…and no doubt so, so horny…”

“NOPE,” said Big Mac, backing away.

“Maybe just a little bit,” admitted Braeburn.

Big Mac moved toward the barn door, but Toaster was faster. She ducked across the room easily and slammed it closed. Her horn ignited and a several beams of red light welded the metal that held the door in place, sealing it.

“Oh, now don’t leave. Not when we’ve just started to have fun!”

She moved, once again swiftly, throwing herself on the larger red stallion, who she assumed to be Big Macintosh.

“My, what a big stallion…so strong…I wonder if I can even fit you…”

“Um…”

Toaster laughed. “Ha! Of course I can! I can fit an entire butternut squash! And, well…squash it.”

Big Mac’s pupils narrowed, and Toaster could see that he was shaking with excitement.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“From you? I’d say about thirty bits should be good…or seventy if you want to both go at the same time…”

“Go where?” asked Braeburn, confused. Toaster responded by flipping up her tail to show him just exactly where he would be going.

“Gah!” cried Braeburn, turning away.

“Oh,” said Toaster slyly. She now crossed the room toward the yellow pony in his cute little vest. “Never seen one, have you?” She wrapped her foreleg around his neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. At first.”

“Are you- -you talking about- -”

“About having my slender unicorn body pounded by a pair of hot, sweaty farm stallions for eighty bits? Oh yes. Yes I am.” She leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Come on. Let’s go for a roll in the hay. Hopefully I won’t, you know, ignite it and burn us to death.”

“But I’m gay!” cried Braeburn, pulling himself away from Toaster.

“WHAT?!” cried Big Mac.

“I only like stallions!” cried Breaburn, collapsing onto the ground and crying.

“Oh,” said Toaster. “So I suppose that means you’ll be putting it in my plot, then.”

“You’re not a stallion!”

“Oh, come on. A plot is a plot. And my plot is sooooo ready for you…” she shook it in his face to show how receptive she was.

“NO!” cried Braeburn, pushing her away. Toaster was immediately knocked off balance and slammed into a rack of garden tools, which promptly collapsed onto her.

“Braeburn!” cried Big Mac. “I know she wasn’t being none too polite, but you can’t just go and push a lady like that!”

“I know, I know!” sobbed Braeburn on the hay-strewn floor. “I just panicked! Bic Mac, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t know how to! I didn’t want it to come out like this…”

Big Macintosh crossed the room and helped Braeburn up. “I’m your cousin,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are, as long as you are who you want to be. I’ll love your regardless.”

“Oh, Big Mac!” cried Braeburn, wrapping his cousin in a hug.

“Now, come on. Let’s get her unburied.”

“Eeeeiyup,” said Braeburn playfully.

Before they could even approach the pile of collapsed tools, however, something rose through the wood and metal. Toaster stood, holding a certain tool in her mouth- -one resembling something like a three handled pliers.

“Look what I found,” she said. Her heavily made-up eyes slid partially closed.

“Big Mac,” squeaked Breaburn, backing away and looking up at his cousin, realizing that Toaster was holding a stainless steel emasculator. “Why do you even have one of those?!”

“Didn’t know you were into the real kinky stuff,” said Toaster, spitting the tool into her hoof and grinning at the pair of stallions as she slowly walked toward them.

“You- -you get back!” cried Big Macintosh.

Toaster did not stop, though. Nor did she slow. Instead, she slid off her skirt and threw it behind her.

“It’s time to make the toast,” she said, grinning wildly. “I’m about to squeeze the juice out of BOTH of your apples…”

Applebloom whistled as she trotted through Sweet Apple Acres, admiring the beautiful warm weather and the fresh morning sun as it shown down on the seemingly endless trees. The apples glittered like jewels, and the air was filled with the combination scent of apples, apple flowers, and fertilizer.

School was out for the summer, but she had just returned from a trip to Zecora’s. She had originally gone to learn more about potion making, but when she had arrived, she found Zecora in a terrible state. Apparently, she had eaten yet another bad plant, and spent the better part of five minutes speaking to Applebloom and to a pony apparently named ‘Avalon’ who was either invisible or not there at all. So Applebloom had gotten out earl, and now had all day to do whatever she wanted.

As she passed the barn, however, she saw something strange that immediately caused her to burst out into laughter. Her brother was stuck, his upper half protruding from a barn window and his lower half no doubt on the other side.

“Big Mac,” cried Applebloom, rolling on the ground from laughter. “What happened? Door broke on you or something?”

“Applebloom!” cried Big Mac, his voice rising suddenly. He released a cry and struggled, as if trying to escape. He turned back to the barn. “No! Don’t touch THAAAAT! Let go!”

“Big Mac, what are you doing?” said Applebloom through another surge of laughter.

“Applebloom, you’re going to have to EEEEEPP! Not the tail! NOT THE TAIL!” His voice increased several octaves. “Applebloom, get Applejack! Before she YOU LET GO NOW OR I WILL KICK YOU AGAIN!”

“Get me for what?” said Applejack, coming out of the fields with a certain elegantly shorn sheep walking beside her.

“Applejack?” said a muffled voice from inside the barn. “Applejack, you’ve got to- -HMF!”

“What in the Sam Hill is going on in there?” said Applejack. “I thought you were supposed to be helpin’ Braeburn with the hay…don’t tell me you to are…” her eyes narrowed, and she looked down at the sheep. “Come on, Loving. Let’s see what all the fuss is.”

“Right,” said the sheep, following Applejack toward the door.

When they reached it, Applejack found that it was stuck for some reason. ‘

“What is this? Ah just oiled this thing the other day!”

“Maybe the oil was bad?” suggested Loving Ewe, pushing on the door herself.

“Ah don’t think so. Stand back.” Applejack turned herself around, and with one swift kick bucked the door open.

What she found on the other side was not what she had expected. There, in the barn, were three ponies: her brother, stuck in the window, his rear legs flailing wildly, and Braeburn, who had a bit put in his mouth and was being ridden by a third pony, a chocolate-colored mare that Applejack had never seen before.

“What. The. BUCK!” she cried. “Big Mac, Braeuburn, what is this? What the hay are you doing?”

“I can explain,” said Big Macintosh, pushing himself back into the barn. As he did, Applejack turned away in disgust; she had very clearly seen that he was quite aroused.

“Hi, my name is Toaster,” said the fishnet-clad pony on Braeburn’s back. “I’m the prostitute that these two hired for an epic threesome.”

“Now wait just a minute- -”

“A prostitute?” said Loving Ewe, softly, stopping Big Mac in his tracks. She looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Big Mac, you could you? I thought I was your one and only!”

She burst into sobs as she ran out the door and away.

“Loving Ewe!” cried Big Mac. “Come back! This isn’t what it looks like!”

It was too late, though. She had already sprinted into the apple fields. Angrily, Big Mac shoved Toaster off of Braeburn. Braeburn immediately dashed across the room and hid behind Applejack.

“Hey, um, bad time to ask, but, um…can I keep this bit?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be gay or something?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

Applejack put her hoof to her temple, which suddenly was throbbing with an oncoming migraine. “And ah come in here and see you and my brother taking turns on HER?”

“Technically, they were going to do me at the same time,” noted Toaster.

“No, we weren’t!” cried Big Macintosh. “I don’t have time for this! I have to go comfort my wife!”

“Wife?” said Toaster, confused.

Big Mac raised his hoof angrily, as if to strike Toaster, but then, shaking, put it down.

“You’re no lady…but I can’t hit a mare. Just get off my family’s property, and never come back!”

With that, he raced out door, calling after the sheep that had just run away in tears.

“Wait! I didn’t get paid!”

“He may not be able to hit a ‘lady’,” said Applejack, blocking Toaster’s path to the door. “But since you dared to touch mah brother and mah cousin- -”

The last thing Toaster saw was a hoof, followed by a flash of color and the sound of something snapping in her neck. Her body went numb and collapsed, and she slipped out of consciousness completely.

Bright lights. Hurried voices. Things moving, but too blurry to see. Toaster wondered what was happening, but did not feel a sense of urgency. As if it had all already happened long before.

“We’re losing her!” said sompony so far away.

“Her body can’t take much more of this!”

“If her heart fails again, just replace it,” said a deep, harsh voice from the corner of the room.

“Clear!” cried another.

Toaster jumped awake with a scream, bolting upright- -and immediately realizing that it was a terrible mistake. “Holy mandrake butts!” she cried, grabbing the side of her head. “Did I get hit by a bus?”

“Nope, just by my granddaughter,” said an old voice. Toaster looked around, realizing that she was lying on a cot in a somewhat rustic wooden-floored room. Sitting next to her in a rocking chair was a very old mare with a pie cutie mark. “You’ve got a bit of a glass jaw there. Still, surprised you woke up from that one.”

“I’ve taken harder,” said Toaster through the pain. She looked down at her hoof. “Am I bleeding?”

“Not anymore, now. I took care of you. Rubbed some of my special ointment on it.”

“Thank you,” said Toaster.

“Don’t you worry yourself, I’ve got LOADS of ointment. Being old will do that to ya. Now…what was I talking about?”

“The pony that hit me…is she here?” Toaster looked around in a panic. Her face was an important part of how she made her money- -she did not want to have the other half ruined too.

“Nope. Out blowing off steam in the fields or somesuch. I’m sure she just feels terrible about losing her temper on you like that. And it wouldn’t be neighborly to just dump you on the curb, would it?”

“It would not be entirely unexpected.” Several memories came back to Toaster. She slammed her hoof into the edge of the cot she was on, the sudden surge sending a wave of pain through her limb. It had been injured pretty badly when the rack of tools had fallen on her. “I failed again, didn’t I?”

“Don’t rightfully know what you mean,” said the old pony. “Unless you mean sellin’ your wares to my grandson and nephew.”

“Well, um, I- -”

The old pony laughed softly and turned to Toaster. “Oh, come on now. I may be an Apple, but I’ve tasted a few bananas in my time, if you know what I mean. Could probably even show you a few things you didn’t even know were possible. The name’s Granny Smith, by the way.”

“Toaster.”

“What’s that? ‘Toaster’? That’s just about the WORST name for somepony in yer line of work, ain’t it? I’d consider gettin yourself a ‘no-de-plume’. I had to back in your day, too. Hard to get a stallion hard when your first name’s ‘Granny’. Called myself ‘Apple Filling’ back in the day.”

“You were a prostitute too?”

“Eh, won’t say yes or no to that one. But let’s just say quite a few stallions have had their hooves in this pie.” She patted the pie-shaped cutie mark on her flank. She sighed. “But they’re all gone now.” She looked up at Toaster. “But I think you’re barkin up the wrong tree.”

“Tree?”

“Yeah. Braeburn ain’t into your type. Never has been, never will. And Big Mac…well, he spends a bit too much time in the old sheep pen, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Then it’s best if you stay that way, then.”

“So I don’t have a chance with them? Either of them?”

“Nope.”

Toaster flopped down onto her belly on the cot. “Another failure…” She started to pick herself up, wincing at the pain in her head and foreleg, and started limping toward the door.

“Now what are you tryin to do, little lady? Most ponies’d be out for a week from an Applejack hit. Sit back down there and rest a spell.”

“No time…need to whore…need money…”

“Gosh darn it, you’re worse than Applejack. Fine,” said Granny Smith. “If business is what you’re after, sit down in that chair right there.”

Toaster did not understand how sitting would lead to business, but she sat down anyway, and turned to face the older pony.

“Now let me tell you a story about a handsome young stallion named Stinkin’ Rich…”

Chapter 6: First Day, First Failure

There was a small spark, and the circuitry hummed to life. The solenoids clicked, pulling the pins that powered the complex clockwork within the device. Lyra pulled back her goggles and inspected the action, making sure that everything was buttery smooth. The neural feedback system was still incomplete, but the overall mechanical framework looked good.

Carefully, she picked up a small cylindrical device and a microtorch in her magic and, holding her breath, attempted to lower it into the highly crowded rear compartment of the device. Just as she finally had it settled in, the door to her workshop was slammed open, causing her to jump back with a cry and fall off her stool.

“What the buck?” she said, turning around, initially surprised that someone had entered her laboratory. As soon as she saw the green hair and brown coat coming through her door, though, she remembered that she had been roped into having a cheese-stealing roommate. At least this time, she was not wearing a saddle- -she was completely naked, like a normal pony. “You! Don’t you at least knock? I mean, what if I had been clo- -” Lyra stopped when she saw that Toaster was injured. One side of her face was swollen and red, and she was walking stiffly with a pronounced limp. “What happened to you? Did you try to use your face to pound a nail or something?”

“Applejack punched me,” said Toaster, flopping down in a semi-collapsed couch that was against one wall of the workshop.

“And you lived? Impressive.”

“It hurts…”

“Here,” said Lyra, reaching into the coolant bath she was using to store processing chips and pulling out an ice pack. She threw it to Toaster. “Take this. Any reason why Applejack bucked you in the face?”

“Because I tried to buck her brother with my face.”

“Ah,” said Lyra, going back to her project and partially ignoring the unicorn mare across the room. She began writing on a pad, doing the calculations for the neural feedback system. “Well, she is very protective of him.”

“But Leera, he was so BIG!”

“It is, literally, his first name,” noted Lyra. “And my name is not ‘Leera’. It is ‘LYRA’. The ‘y’ is like the ‘y’ in ‘sky’.”

“That’s weird.”

Lyra turned around in her stool and pointed to her flank, where there was a small insignia of a harp-like instrument. “See? Lyre. On my butt. Hence ‘Lyra’.”

“And the Heartstrings part?”

“Congenital defect.”

“Oh.” Toaster looked at Lyra’s rear, jealous of her pretty color. “What does it mean?”

“A medical anomaly that one is born with,” said Lyra, turning back to her work.

“Not that. Your butt.”

“Oh.” Lyra swiveled again and faced Toaster. Ponies very seldom asked what her cutie mark meant, thinking that it was obvious when it could not be further from the truth. “It is a mark of irony.”

“Irony? Why is a lyre ironic? Or is this some hipster thing I’m too square to understand?”

“Have you ever seen a lyre?”

“Yes. In Canterlot. They sound real pretty.”

“Do you recall what is significant about a lyre?”

“Of course. It can only be played with magic.”

“Exactly.” Lyra raised her front hooves in front of her. “How is a pony supposed to play a lyre with THESE? It can’t be done. My mark exists to taunt me with a reminder of my own biological limitations...limitations which I strive to overcome.”

“Um…how?”

Lyra smiled, and picked up the device she was working on. Even if it was not yet good enough for combat applications, it was suitable for at least a minor demonstration. She slid the device over her hoof and lower foreleg, and held it out in front of her, flipping the power core on.

The device hummed, and then burst open, producing five flexible appendages. Toaster was so frightened that she cried out and leapt behind the couch. She looked over the upper edge as Lyra flexed the fingers of her creation.

“What- -what is that thing?!”

“I call it the Horse Assisting Neurolink Device, or H.A.N.D. for short. You know, because it’s a hand.”

“I can see that- -but why would you construct such an abomination.”

“Hey!” said Lyra, pointing at Toaster with her metal index finger. “Someday, everypony will have hands! Mark my words, some day there will be a bat pony wandering a dystopic future using a device very similar to this to manipulate objects at will and I did not know it could do this!” Lyra paused, and looked at the extended index finger. “Cool. Now I can gesture to things. Like…to that Bridgeport,” she pointed across the room to the machine in question and giggled. “Now the next time I get arrested, I can finger somepony in court!”

“That’s really more of my job,” said Toaster, still behind the couch.

“What?”

“But you have magic. Why not just use that.”

“You have magic too, don’t you? Why don’t you use it for every application?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Exactly, because we deserve to be free of hooves, and the hand- -wait, what?”

“I can’t use magic,” said Toaster.

“But you have a horn.”

“Yes. And I am quite horny indeed.”

“So…does it not work or something?”

“Oh, it works. But everything I touch gets, well…melted.”

“Really?” Lyra reached down and picked up a piece of copper pipe in her hand. “Here, catch!”

She threw the pipe across the room, and Toaster caught it in her magic instinctively- -at which point it promptly was reduced to red-hot liquid that splattered all over the couch, lighting it partially on fire.

“Oops,” said Lyra, moving one of several fire extinguishers in the room over and putting out the flames. “Weird. That’s definitely not normal.”

“It makes my job really, really hard. Or…I guess soft, and kind of flaccid?”

“You seem to make an awful lot of wiener references when you talk,” noted Lyra. “It’s kind of weird.”

“I’m sure a pretty mare like you has seen quite a few in her day.”

“Actually…well…let’s just say I have a steady partner right now.”

“Aww. So cute. I wouldn’t mind a coltfriend myself…”

“Coltfriend…right…”

“But hey,” said Toaster, changing the subject. “The reason I came up here…I didn’t make any money today. And I have no food…I was wondering if you have any I could borrow…”

Lyra sighed. “There is some hay out back in the shed. The RED shed. Not the root celler. That’s where I keep the- -”

“Roots?”

“Spent fuel rods. Don’t go down there. Seriously.”

“Okay. Thanks Leera.”

Lyra shuddered at hearing her name mispronounced, but decided to let it go. “Hey, Toaster,” she said as the other pony got up to leave. “Do you think you can help me with something?”

“I don’t do mares,” she said.

“Neither do I!” squealed Lyra, far more defensively than was needed. She calmed herself. “No. Tomorrow I need to go into town to pick up a shipment from a vendor. It’s real heavy, and I could use some help. And maybe I can help you get stocked up on some real food, too.”

Toaster’s eyes widened and she broke into a wide grin. “Really?”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Toaster crossed the room quickly and wrapped Lyra in a devastatingly crushing hug. Lyra was surprised to notice that Toaster smelled oddly of grandmas. “Oh thank you Leera!” said Toaster. “I’ve never ever had a friend before! You’re my first! You’ve broken my friend virginity!”

“Um, eew,” gasped Lyra. “Let go please…suffocating…”

Toaster released her, and then pranced back to the door. “I’m going to get a good night sleep in my room now,” she said. “That way, I’ll be really alert when we go out tomorrow. And you can help me find stallions!”

Before Lyra could mention that she really did not know that many stallions in Ponyville, Toaster had left the room- -and, by the heavy sounds of repeated thuds, promptly fallen down the stairs.

“I’m okay!” she called back through several stories of wood and radiation-proofed armored steel that made up the house. “Horn is still attached!”

“What a werido,” said Lyra, turning back to her desk. She held out her hand in front of her and once again extended the index finger. An idea occurred to her, and her eyes flitted to either side, making sure that Toaster was not coming back.

When it was clear that Toaster had returned to her crawspace, Lyra lifted the cybernetic index finger and inserted it into her nose.

“Ohhhhhh,” she groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head from the intense pleasure. “That’s the ticket…”

Chapter 7: Toast in the Town

There was a science-fiction hum as the transporter engaged. The air sparkled and swirled, and Toaster and the Captain appeared on the surface of the alien world. Toaster immediately straightened her extremely short red dress- -her uniform- -and removed the sensor from her tricorder. She waved it around, listening to the beeps and sounds, but was caught off guard by the view.

They were standing on the edge of a rocky precipice at the edge of a thick, alien forest where all the trees basically looked like Equestria trees but a different color- -and far in the massive sky, three suns and six moons were glowing in the distance.

“Oh wow,” said Toaster. “It’s beautiful. But, Captain, I’m not detecting any changeling signatures.”

“That’s because there aren’t any,” said the Captain.

“No signals? But the Dominion- -”

Toaster turned around, and felt herself swept into the Captain’s strong forlegs, his shiny green shirt falling against her. He had an alien rose in his mouth.

“I didn’t bring you down here for the mission. I brought you down here because I want you, yeoman Toaster.”

“Oh Captain! But what will the crew say?”

“They don’t have to know, do they? You can be my dirty, toasty little secret.” The Captain raised his hoof, and it was full of space-bits. “And I’m willing to pay you my handsomely from my extensive captain’s salary…”

“Oh, yes!” cried Toaster, taking the bits. “Make me your space-slut, Jim!”

“Not so fast!” said a deep voice. Toaster was suddenly dropped to the ground. She looked up, and saw a second figure emerge from the tree-line: a strong, muscular pony in a tight, red uniform with an extensive beard.

“Raunchy Riker!” cried Toaster.

“I’ll be taking that space-slut!” he said. He turned to Toaster. He pulled a small pouch and threw it at Toaster. It burst open, spilling rare jewels over the ground. “And I’m willing to pay TWICE what he’ll pay.”

“I outrank you!” said the Captain, stepping between himself and Toaster. “If any pony is going to be paying for her pony parts, it’s ME!”

“Like Tartarus! I’m number one!”

“Colts, colts!” said Toaster, standing up and taking them in her forelegs. “Don’t worry. There’s enough Toaster for BOTH of you. Of course, I’ll have to add a twenty- -no, thirty percent surcharge for duel wielding.

They both looked at each other, and then at her- -and smiled. They tore off their uniforms, and Toaster lifted her tiny skirt. Then, strangely, they stopped.

“What…what’s wrong?” asked Toaster.

They both opened their mouths to speak, but the only sound that came out was that of a flushing toilet.

“Huh? What? Toast?” said Toaster, starting awake suddenly. She found herself in an awkward position, her body suspended over the very poorly plumbed network of pipes beneath Lyra’s house. Light was coming in from the edges of the crawlspace, pouring across the dry dirt floor and against the beams of the house. That meant it was morning.

“Stupid pipes,” said Toaster, drying to disengage herself from the mess. “Being all stupid. I was having the best dream, too…”

She rolled partially out of the pipes, and there was a second surge of water that caused them to shake and rumble, the vibration knocking her loose onto the dirt floor that made up her room.

Toaster sighed, and looked up at the wooden beams that were almost two feet over her face. “Well,” she said, reaching out for her clothing, which was hanging from several of the many rusty nails that protruded from the house’s supports. “I guess it’s time to start another day.”

She dressed quickly. With her flexibility, it was not difficult. That, and she was an expert at dressing and, more importantly, undressing in tight spaces at high speed. It was just another one of the many skills that life in the brothel had taught her.

After dressing, she slid her way toward the door of her room, which was actually a place where the protective mesh that bordered it had been cut away by a powerful thermal discharge. She grabbed some hay on the way out, stuffing the dried fibers down her throat without chewing.

As she climbed out of her level of the house and onto Lyra’s side lawn, she yawned and stretched, greeting the bright sun of the early morning, rising under the strength of Celestia’s god-queen might. A thought occurred to Toaster, and she momentarily considered what she could accomplish if she were an alicorn. No pony would be able to resist having sex with a princess; that, and she would be able to use her wings on them, just as she had been taught during a class called “Sex Education for Pegasi”.

Toaster giggled slightly, pondering what she could do with so many feathers. As she did, though, she suddenly noticed something moving. Her eyes flitted toward the house across the way from her- -a structure that, she recalled, belonged to the intractably derped Pegasus Muffins. Something was moving beneath her porch.

Not knowing what to expect, Toaster stepped back, afraid. If something scary came out, she did not know what to do. She was soft and brown and defenseless, and she considered yelling for Lyra to come save her.

What came out, though, was not frightening at all. Instead, it was a small and dirty filly.

Toaster felt incredibly relieved, and bounded over to the filly.

“Hey neighbor!” she cried. “I’m Toaster what’s your name!”

The filly was so surprised that she fell backward with a slight cry, bumping into the porch. Her tiny orange wings fluttered, but she did not leave the ground. Instead, she straightened her purple hair and brushed the dust off her coat and looked up at Toaster with a pair of tired eyes.

“Scootaloo,” she said, her eyes looking around. “Um, what did you just see?”

“I saw you climbing out from under a porch. Oh my you are so adorable!”

“Um…thanks?” Scootaloo looked behind Toaster. “You- -um- -live with Lyra? What happened to Bon Bon?”

“I’m rending her basement,” said Toaster. She paused. “Leera, I mean. Not Bon Bon. I don’t know who that is.”

“Lyra doesn’t have a basement. I’ve checked.”

“I believe it is called a ‘crawlspace’ then. Except it’s not really in space at all.” Toaster gasped. “Hey! I wonder if that’s why I had that dream!” A second thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. “Hey…you don’t think that Luna looks into ALL dreams, do you?”

“You live in Lyra’s crawlspace?”

“Yup! And you live under Muffins’s porch!”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “Please don’t tell her!” she said. “Or Rainbow Dash! Or Cheerilee! Or my friends! Or, well, anypony at all!”

“Tell them what?” Toaster did not fully understand the filly’s reaction. She did not comprehend what was unusual about the situation.

“That…that I live under a porch?”

“Why would I tell them that? I figured it would be obvious.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh, you,” said Toaster, ruffling Scootaloo’s purple mane. “You are just SO adorable! You’re the first filly I’ve ever met, and I had no idea they were so CUTE!”

“You’ve never met a filly before?”

“Well, I guess I saw myself in the mirror once or twice when I was younger, but I was nowhere near as huggable as you. What with being brown. And not having a mane.”

“You didn’t have a- -”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden thump beside them. They both jumped and squeaked as a large brown object slammed into the ground yesterday. The lump lay still for a moment, and then Bread sat up groggily.

“Ow,” he said.

“Where did you come from?” demanded Scootaloo and Toaster at the same time.

“Blame my parents,” said Bread. He fluttered his wings, sending down falling everywhere. He looked back up at where he came from. “I think I just fell off a roof.”

“How do you fall of a roof?” said Scootaloo. “And I was definitely not just, you know, living under your porch…um…male Muffins?”

“Female Bread. No, wait, regular Bread. And I fell off a roof because I was on it, and then, well, gravity made me stop being on it.”

“That happened to me once,” said Toaster. “Fell off the brothel roof. Landed on a customer. Broke his pelvis in three places. And then there was that time I accidently, well, shoved a customer off the roof…”

“What were you doing on the roof in the first place?” asked Scootaloo.

“Sleeping,” said Bread. He looked at them both at the same time- -one eye glaring at Toaster and the other at Scootaloo. “Never, EVER try to sleep on a roof. Especially if you roll in your sleep.”

“That’s funny,” said Toaster. “I figured you would be in bed with your sister.”

“With my own sister? Eew, no. She snores. And she has wing spasms. I’d rather wake up to a cold, hard fall off a roof than a face full of Muffin down.”

Scootaloo was blushing heavily- -down, in Pegasus terms, was extremely personal part of a Pegasus’ anatomy. Toaster knew this; she also knew literally every way to preen wings, especially those that could send a Pegasus into waves of agonizing pleasure. In theory, anyway. The one time she had tried, she failed miserably. To the point where she was never allowed to serve a Pegasus again- -and all the Pegasus girls even stayed a good distance away from her.

“Well,” said Bread, stretching his wings and flying into the air. “I’ve got to go wake up my sister. Have to make sure she starts her day in the best way possible. Oh, also. This.”

He dropped a bag onto Scootaloo, nearly crushing her beneith its weight. Muffins poured out of the top and onto the ground.

“Surplus,” said Bread. He then flew away from them to the second story of his sister’s home, where he promptly got stuck through a semi-closed window.

“He is totally boinking her,” said Toaster, smiling.

“Boinking?” gasped Scootaloo, pushing the sack of muffins off her tiny filly body. “What does that mean?”

“Sex. He is having sex with his sister.” Toaster shuddered. “Which is really, really gross.”

“What is sex?” asked Scootaloo, looking up at Toaster with wide and innocent eyes.

“Oh. It’s when a stallion inserts his penis into you. Vagina, plot, mouth…and sometimes ears, I suppose. He moves it back and forth until he releases some sperm, then gives you money and leaves you there like a discarded, fluid-soaked napkin.”

“Eew,” said Scootaloo. “Eew eew eew…EEEWW! Why would anypony want to do that?”

“I get paid to do that.”

“Oh. Oh…you can get money for that?”

“Yes. Lots of money. I could show you how. But first.” She picked up the back of muffins. “We need to eat the surplus.”

They carried the muffins together to the curb outside the front of Muffins’s house. As they sat down, Toaster looked across the street and saw a park bench. On it was sitting a blue, white-haired unicorn. She looked down at the muffins and shoved one in her mouth- -and then suddenly turned back to the bench, remembering that she had just seen a pony that she had met before.

Toaster waved, but then became confused. He had just been sitting there, but now he was gone.

“That’s weird,” she said, swallowing her muffin.

“Well, yeah,” said Scootaloo, peeling the paper off a large cranberry orange muffin as large as her head. “You’re supposed to take the paper off.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, sitting down. She unwrapped a pistachio muffin with her teeth, just as the filly beside her was, but the paper tasted so good that she waited until Scootaloo blinked to swallow it whole. She then pulled apart the muffin, savoring the smell as she toasted it with her magic.

“That’s a neat trick,” said Scootaloo. “Can you do mine?”

“Sure,” said Toaster, producing a second beam that perfectly toasted Scootaloo’s second muffin, a hard-topped corn muffin with large sugar sprinkles. “So,” she said, swallowing three whole bran muffins before speaking. “What is it exactly that you do, Ms. Scootaloo?”

“Not much. I’m just a filly. I guess I go to school, hang out with my friends- -” Her eyes lit up, and she suddenly pointed to her rump for some reason. Her cutie mark was a lightning bolt surrounded by three colored bands. “And we’re members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We solve cutie mark problems, like ponies not knowing their destiny and stuff.”

“Heavy,” said Toaster. “Sounds hard.”

“Do you have a cutie mark problem?”

“Nope. Mine is quite self-explanatory.” Toaster lifted her skirt, revealing the toaster on her flank.

“Oh. So you- -”

“Pleasure stallions for cash? Indeed I do.”

“Um…okay…”

“Well, more like will pleasure stallions for cash. To be honesty, tiny winged filly, I have yet to actually even swallow one penis.”

“Um, I don’t know if I should be hearing things like that.”

“Why not? If you were a colt, you could buy me right now.”

“How much would it cost?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Would you be going for the ears?”

Scootaloo nearly vomited her muffins, but they both broke into laughter.

“I think there’s a blueberry in my nose!” said Scootaloo.

“I think I aspirated a muffin wrapper!” added Toaster, and they both broke into laughter again.

When they calmed down, Scootaloo was smiling. “Well, can you at least tell me how you got your cutie mark? I always love hearing the stories.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, her expression going vacant for a moment. “I…hmm. Actually, I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember?” said Scootaloo, freezing with a pair of double chocolate muffins in her hooves- -the best flavor. “How can you not remember? It’s, like, the most important thing in your whole life!”

Toaster shrugged. “It happened during one of the surgeries. They put me under, and when They pulled me back out, there it was.”

“Surgeries?”

“Yeah. You know. One of the surgeries that little fillies get every week or so. You know, at your age you must get them all the time.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No…only when I break a bone or something, but that’s not very often.”

“Oh,” said Toaster. She stared out into the distance, at the now empty bench where the blue pony had been. Then she shrugged. “Weird.”

After her morning preparations, Lyra slid on her saddlebags and stepped out her front door. She whistled as she closed it behind her, using her orange magic to energize the numerous internal locking systems and defense systems while she was away. She then trot jauntily down the sidewalk, past the park across the street with the bench that she enjoyed so much to sit on, especially with Bon Bon.

“They stormed the universe in interstellar…” she sung to herself, but suddenly paused when she saw the sight on the sidewalk before her. There, sprawled out on the concrete, were a pair of bloated ponies sitting next to an empty sack. Muffin wrappers were strewn around them, and they were both groaning in pain.

“Toaster, what did you do?” demaned Lyra. “You didn’t eat a spent fuel rod, did you?”

“No,” moaned Toaster. She burped, and a muffin rapper popped out of her mouth. She caught it with her tongue and re-swallowed it. “But I did just eat…ohhhh….eighteen pounds of muffins…”

“So did I,” said the filly beside Toaster, who Lyra vaguely recognized as Rainbow Dash’s “sister” Scootaloo. “Ohh…I think I’m gonna spew.”

“No!” said Toaster, trying to roll herself over. “A good filly always keeps it down, no matter what!”

“Can you just…ohhh…roll me to Applebloom’s?”

“Come on, Toaster,” said Lyra, putting her hoof on her forehead. “We were supposed to go to town today…”

“We are,” said Toaster, standing slowly. “Hold on, this will only take…and there it goes.” She stood up straight and smiled.

“What did you just do?”

“I digested it. And now I’m hungry again. Oh, and I just ate like, eleventeen bran muffins. And their wrappers. So hopefully town has a bathroom.”

“Bathroom humor is not tolerated here,” said Lyra, trotting past the incapacitated Scootaloo.

“Says you,” said Toaster. She looked down at Scootaloo. “You. I like you. When I get back, we’ll have dinner, and I can tell you about all the stallions I ‘met’ in town!”

“Good plan,” moaned Scootaloo, turning on her side with the help of her tiny, buzzing wings. “I’ll just stay here and…take a nap for a while…”

High in the Castle of Friendship, Pinkie Pie slowly ascended the crystalline stairs toward one of the topmost portions. She had of course had no trouble getting in; she was, of course, the Element of Laughter and actually had a right to be there- -that, and Twilight never locked her doors. Ever.

When she reached the top, she sat down on the wide open landing area and savored the breeze, brooding. She was distantly aware that this was the first time in a long, long time that she had brooded. The last time had been when everypony refused to attend her daily parties, and the time before that was shortly after her sister Limestone Pie had locked her out of their house as children during a sleet storm and given her near lethal pneumonia- -and then laughed at her for it until Maud gave her a look harsh enough to cut a hunk of granite into fancy countertops.

In the distance, Pinkie saw a purple speck appear in the distance. As she waited- -the speck was not moving especially quickly, and had an erratic flight pattern- -it slowly grew larger. Pinkie Pie produced a plate of cupcakes from her hair and began to munch them as she waited.

Eventually, Twilight came into full focus, her abnormally large alicorn wings struggling in the stiff breeze. Spike, of course, was riding on her back as usual.

“Wish I could ride a princess,” muttered Pinkie Pie. “Or…have a princess ride me?”

The thought occurred to her that that was what saddles might actually be for, aside from being worn as winterwear or adorning the back of sluts.

While Pinkie considered this, Twilight dropped down onto the landing plate.

“Pinkie!” she said, trotting excitedly toward her friend. “You came back to greet me and…um…Pinkie?”

“Yeah, Twilight?”

“Did you…um…straighten your hair?”

“No.”

“Really? Because it looks pretty straight to me.”

“I know,” sighed Pinkie. “I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. And not a good funk, like with a groovy rhythm…the real smelly kind of funk…does it look okay, though?”

Twilight smiled awkwardly. “Well, um…you kind of look…”

“Like a complete psychopath,” said Spike, climbing off Twilight’s back.

“Well,” said Pinkie, glaring. “I don’t feel especially happy about having to play the villain in the story, either. I’m friggin Pinkie Pie for Celestia’s plot’s sake.”

“Speaking of plots,” said Twilight, trotting into the castle. “You’ll never guess what I did while I was in Canterlot!”

“You were helping to organize the royal library.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Because you told me. Five thousand two hundred seventy seven and one half times. You’re lucky you didn’t finish that last half, or I would probably have strangled you.”

“Psychopath,” muttered Spike from behind, dragging in Twilight’s saddle bags.

“But yes, books! The Great Re-Binding! When we go through all the books in the whole library and check them for damage, repairing the ones that need it and re-shelving them. All that paper…that smell…the scent of pages…being down in the stacks, surrounded by walls and walls of books with so much- -” Twilight’s eyes widened, and suddenly her back legs clinched together as she cried out. “Ah- -ah- -ah Oh Celestia!” she cried, putting her front hooves between her legs and wincing as though she were in pain.

Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “Did you just…have a bookgasm?”

“Just a little one,” said Twilight, turning to Spike.

Spike sighed, dropping the heavy saddlebags. “I’ll get the mop. AGAIN.”

As Spike walked off, Twilight turned back to Pinkie Pie, stepping over the mess she had just made. “But you’ll never guess what they let me do!”

“Hopefully not that,” said Pinkie Pie, pointing. “Because it’s really gross.”

“No, not that,” said Twilight excitedly. “They let me run the statistics on book readership, and remove the books that had the lowest readership or that were being censored for my own library! Look!”

Twilight’s horn glowed, and the air near them snapped. A portal appeared, and a torrent of books gushed out, overwhelming them and carrying them back. Twilight was momentarily buried, but as books continued to fall out of the dimensional rift at a slower rate, she pulled herself out.

“I mean, look at all these!” said Twilight, picking one up. “See, look! ‘One Thousand and One Recipes that Use Only Milk’. Can you believe they were just going to throw these out?”

“Not at all,” said Pinkie, rolling her eyes.

“And- -you’ll never believe this- -apparently, we’re so famous now that ponies are writing books about US!”

“That’s kind of disturbing, actually,” said Pinkie Pie, picking up on of the books. “What’s this? ‘How to Care for Your Mare’?”

Twilight almost knocked Pinkie Pie over to tear the book out of her hooves. She blushed heavily as she pulled it away, teleporting it to somewhere else. Then she smiled. “Heh heh…you didn’t see that…”

“Please tell me it wasn’t illustrated…”

Before Twilight was forced to lie, Spike entered the room with a mop and bucket. He looked up at the mountainous pile of books. “We’re not going to have to shelve those, are we?”

“Oh yes!” said Twilight Excitedly. “In twelve different orders that I’ve come up with, to see which one is the best! And then we do it twice that way, just to make sure we know where they all are…all that paper…all that…” She took a deep breath, both smelling the books and trying to control herself.

“I’ll keep the mop out,” groaned Spike, walking off again.

“Good thinking, Spike!” called Twilight. “Proactive, I like that!” She turned in the pile of books and engaged her horn, causing them all to vanish back to where they had come. Pinkie Pie dropped onto the crystal floor with a thud, but Twilight floated down on her wings. “Now, was there something you wanted to tell me, Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie felt her hair, which had been growing increasingly curly, suddenly fall completely flat. “Yes,” she said in a low voice that made Twilight take a step back. “We need to get out the Elements of Harmony, something terrible has happened in Ponyville!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Pinkie, why didn’t you say so? Or send me a letter? What is it? Discord? Chrysalis? Sombra? Nightmare Moon? Nil?”

“Nil isn’t even in this universe. No. WORSE.”

“What could possibly be worse than those things?”

“A HARLOT!”

Twilight paused. “You mean like…a pony hooker?”

“Yes! A mare of loose morals and looser…um…something genital, I guess. Here to spread disease and corrupt our children and reek stinky, fish-smelling havoc all over all of us!”

“Um, Pinkie, I think you’re overreacting- -”

“STONE HER TO DEATH! Like we did Discord that one time!”

“He didn’t die.”

“Come ON!” Pinkie Pie grabbed Twilight by the wing and started to drag her across the floor. “Elements, now! Make harlot stop harloting!”

“OWW! Pinkie, those are SENSITIVE!” cried Twilight, pulling her wing free. “And oh so downy soft.” She paused to preen her wing compulsively, an urge that she still had not gotten used to and found disgusting, even if her wings were vaguely grape scented. “Pinkie, I don’t think a prostitute is worth using the Elements of Harmony on.”

“Then we do this Pinkie’s way,” said Pinkie, producing a length of pepperoni and slapping it menacingly against one hoof.

“Um…I don’t want to know where you were keeping that, do I? But actually, prostitution isn’t even illegal in Equestria. It’s actually one of our oldest professions, and has a really rich history.” Her horn hummed with magic, and a book dropped into her proximity. It was titled: “Everything You Ever Wanted To Know about Canterlot Prostitutes, and Several Things You Didn’t!”. Twilight flipped it open. “The brothel infrastructure of Canterlot is actually quite unique…I mean, you’ve got their guild hall with its fabulous Victorian architecture, the Mare Fountain built into the side of the outer wall, Garden of Seed up higher in the mountain, and oh, of COURSE who can forget the 29th Street House. I mean, that one is famous, although it almost went out of business until Tip Tickler took it over thirty years ago...”

“You seem to know an awful lot about brothels,” noted Pinkie Pie.

“Well, of course,” said Twilight, teleporting the book away. “My brother used to tell me about them all the time! He knew the location and history of every single one!”

“Your brother…knew the location of every brothel in Canterlot?”

“Oh yes!” said Twilight, smiling. “He’s always secretly been a big fan of historical architecture!”

“Does Cadence know how much…er…architecture he’s been studying?”

“Probably!”

Twilight did not seem to be aware of the implications of what she had just suggested; her naiveté was almost palpable.

Pinkie shook her head. “But you aren’t going to arrest her?”

“Cadence? No, that wouldn’t- -”

“Not her, the Ponyville Harlot! Put her in prison! Beat her with a fish! Daily!”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? We didn’t even beat Trixie with the fish daily...” Twilight put her hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “Look, Pinkie, I can see that this is upsetting you…for some reason…but I can’t stop a pony from pursuing her destiny. It just wouldn’t be neighborly.”

Pinkie Pie glared into Twilight’s eyes. “So…you’re not going to help me rid Ponyville of this filthy, venereal disease infested, Satin-supporting, mint chocolate menace?”

“Well, I can go talk to her if you think that would help…”

“No,” said Pinkie, throwing Twilight’s hoof off her shoulder. “You can’t reason with evil. Looks like I can’t count on my friends when all of Equestria is in danger, can I? No…we do this Pinkie’s way now…”

“Pinkie, come on, it’s not that I don’t- -”

It was too late, though. Pinkie Pie stormed off through the castle, nearly body slamming Fluttershy, who was coming up the stairs herself.

“Oh my!” cried Fluttershy. “Excuse me!”

Pinkie Pie said nothing, but stomped down the stairs angrily. Fluttershy looked down the stairs after her. “I like your new hair!” she called. “Oh…I guess she didn’t hear me.” Fluttershy turned to Twilight. “What’s gotten into her? If it’s okay that I’m asking that. I don’t mean to pry. Unless I can do anything to help her…unless it’s a really personal problem…”

“A prostitute, apparently.”

Fluttershy paused, and then looked over her shoulder. “Oh my…I didn’t really expect Pinkie Pie to be into that kind of thing…”

“Not literally,” said Twilight. “Apparently, we have one in Ponyville, and Pinkie isn’t happy about it.”

“Oh dear. Pinkie not being happy? That never ends well…”

“What do you mean?”

Fluttershy just shook her head. “It just doesn’t.”

Just like before, everypony in town was staring at Toaster. This time, though, it seemed as if Lyra were having a bit of a problem with the sudden attention. She did not seem comfortable.

“Do you really have to wear that, you know, in public?” she said.

“No, not technically,” said Toaster, looking down at her tight blouse, short skirt, and fishnets. “I suppose I could just be naked. But I want to look presentable!”

“You look like a whore!” hissed Lyra.

“You don’t say.”

They proceeded as quickly as possible down to the train station. Toaster was actually surprised that there was a train; the thought had never occurred to her that she could ride the rails to her new home instead of taking an oddly flammable hot-air balloon. Of course, on a train, she would have been forced to pay the entire crew, passing herself amongst their bodies all sweaty from shoveling coal in a hot engine, each one throwing their hard-earned railroad money at her when they finished…

“Toaster!” said Lyra loudly.

“Huh? What?” said Toaster, coming out of her fantasy.

“You just froze up for a second. Did your brain clog or something?”

“Little bit.”

“Well, we’re here. I’ve just got to sign for the order…but try not to talk too much.”

“Why?”

“Because these ponies aren’t…well, nice.”

Lyra stepped forward onto the platform where a freight car was being unloaded. Toaster followed. The two of them were almost immediately greeted by a gray-coated, blue-haired bat pony with oddly non-slitted blue eyes.

Her eyes shifted toward Toaster, and then back to Lyra. She pulled out a small clip board from her saddle bags. “Right,” she said, brushing her mane out of her eyes. “Lyra Heartsrings.”

“Yes,” said Lyra.

“Five hundred pounds of two inch AR500, and one ton of Alloy 157 tungsten.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? No! I ordered Assyrian-grade plate steel!”

“And I didn’t have any. So I substituted. The 157 is much harder.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind it turning brittle in cold temperatures! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

“Look,” said the bat pony. “I can say with reasonable certainty that whatever the hay you are using this for, you are not going to be anywhere near the glass-transition temperature.”

“But it’s not what I- -and what in Tartarus is all THAT?”

Toaster looked up to see the bat pony’s associates unloading the car. One of them was an abnormally immense pink mare with cloven hooves and body armor, and the other was a pure white stallion with oddly scleraless green eyes.

“Magnetocaloric cryonics equiptment,” said the bat pony, dismissively.

“I didn’t order any of that! If you charge me for that, I will shove my horn so far up your plot that you’re great-great granddaughter- -”

“You’re not my only customer, you know,” said the bat pony.

Toaster was watching them unloading the train, marveling at how much weight the larger pony seemed to be able to push, when she caught the giant mare’s eye.

The mare smiled. “Hey, sexy,” she said in an unnaturally deep voice. She looked over at Lyra. “That you’re fillyfriend there?”

“Eew, no!” cried Toaster and Lyra in unison.

“Heh,” said the giant mare. “Well, why don’t you ditch the beanpole and take a ride on a REAL mare, you sexy little brownie you.”

“I’m- -I’m not into mares!”

“Oh, you will be when I’m through with you,” she said, extending an abnormally long forked tongue. “I’ll give you a lickin’ that beats any dickin’.”

“Gell, come on,” said the white unicorn, punching her lightly in the part of her muscular flank that was not covered by armor.

“Yeah, Holy,” she said. “You beat that flank. You know how much I like that.” He glared up at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Come on, Holy, it’s not cheating if it’s with another mare. Of course…we could always have a threesome…”

“Less sexing, more delivering,” said the bat pony. “If the galadium core heats up, well- -I’d rather not regrow ANOTHER head…” She turned back to Lyra and passed her the clip board. “Sign here.”

“Heck NO!” cried Lyra. “You got my order wrong! I’m not signing for inferior product!”

“Inferior?!”

“You know why I need this metal, and you are going to give it to me if I have to…” she turned to Toaster and sighed. “Toaster, I’m sorry, but this is going to take some…negotiating. Why don’t you go get yourself some lunch?”

“Lunch?” said Toaster, her mind immediately clearing and focusing. “Yes lunch!”

She trotted off gleefully as Lyra and the bat pony continued to argue on the train platform.

“Mommy, why is that prostitute eating that field?” asked a little colt as he and his mother walked by the field where Toaster was grazing.

“I don’t know, honey,” said the mare. “Just don’t make eye contact!”

Toaster looked up, but then went back to what she was doing. Ponies were starting to stare at her when they walked by, and she was beginning not to like it- -even though she had no idea why they were staring. She had simply parked herself in the nearest field and started eating the grass and clover that grew there. As a pony, that was what she naturally ate. Food literally grew everywhere, for free. Which was good, because she had no money herself and Lyra had not given her any.

So, she kept eating the lawn. Nopony seemed to want to stop her. Unfortunately, nopony was propositioning her either. She could very easily have taken a stallion in one of the bushes and gotten money for a cookie, but none seemed to even want to get near her. She supposed that it was because it was still early in the morning.

As she chewed on a plant that she suspected was edible, she did not see the pink shadow that approached from behind her. Toaster was entirely oblivious to the shape that approached her silently from behind, to the sadistic smile that crossed Pinkie Pie’s face, or to the glint of the knife as Pinkie raised it above her head, preparing to drive it right into Toaster’s back, in the spot that would have been between her wings if she had any.

“Guess who’s about to shove it to the hilt?” said Pinkie Pie as she brought the knife down.

Without even reacting, Toaster’s horn automatically lit up. A narrow beam of light struck the steel of the blade, reducing it to white-hot material that shot out in all directions. The empty hilt of the knife struck Toaster in the spine.

Toaster turned around and looked at the knife handle, then at Pinkie. Pinkie looked back, confused. Then Toaster smiled broadly.

“Pink friend!” she cried, wrapping Pinkie in a powerful and crushing hug. “You came to see me!”

“Gah!” gasped Pinkie.

Toaster released her, and looked down at the remains of the knife. “Nice handle. I know a pony in Canterlot who can make a blade for it, if you’re interested.”

“Hugged…by a HARLOT!” cried Pinkie Pie, jumping back. She began scratching at herself, as if she were covered in insects. “Eew! Eew! Whore germs! STD’s! Who knows where she’s been? It’s- -it’s on my! I need a bath! NOW! Before the infection spreads!”

Crying, Pinkie Pie ran off, and promptly jumped into a nearby pond.

“Oh…okay!” cried Toaster after her. “I’ll see you later, then! Assuming you don’t drown!”

Toaster paused for a moment, trying to remember what she had been doing. Mentally, she narrowed it down, and came to the conclusion that since she was not having sex, she must have been eating.

So, she leaned down to take another bite of grass. Before she could, though, something loud rushed by her overhead. The force of the air current caught her skirt and tipped her forward, and with a cry she found herself staked into the lawn by her horn.

“What was that?” she cried, pulling her horn out of the dirt. She looked up to see a rainbow colored contrail running over the park, following some kind of fast-moving object. Intrigued, Toaster ran after it as fast as her little prostitute legs could carry her.

The object, whatever it was, changed course and climbed high into the air. Toaster watched as it swirled and twisted into wide arcs and loops, surging upward through the clouds and diving so fast that Toaster was sure it would hit the ground- -only to turn away at the last second.

A crowd was gathering to watch, all in awe. Toaster watched in awe likewise, but mostly because she had no idea what it actually was. Aliens came to mind, but then the object paused, and Toaster felt her eyes widen to the point where her pupils took up most of her face. Floating high above her in the distance was the most beautiful Pegasus she had ever seen- -a svelte, athletic pony with strong wings and a flowing, unkempt mane that glimmered in every color of the rainbow.

“Sweet Celestia’s rump,” whispered Toaster. “That’s the most handsome stallion I’ve ever seen.”

“Um, Rainbow Dash is a mare,” said a voice beside Toaster. Toaster turned to find a pale blue unicorn with gray, blank eyes and a snowflake cutie mark.

“Don’t I know you?” asked Toaster.

He shook his head. “No. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, confused. She turned back to the stallion flying above, who had once again begun to perform feats of incredible aerial skill. She chuckled. “Well, I think I know a stallion when I see one. It’s my job to. See?” She lifted her skirt and shook her rump in the blue pony’s face. He seemed unperturbed and bored, which was hurtful. “I don’t see a toaster on your rump, do I?”

“I should hope not.”

“Exactly. Because this toaster means that I’m a prostitute, and I know stallions.” Toaster lowered her skirt and looked up at the rainbow pony, this Rainbow Dash. “But oh…for a stallion like that, I would pay HIM to ram me…”

A thought suddenly occurred to Toaster, and as it expanded, she smiled. She had suddenly realized that although her prostitution license in Canterlot had been revoked, she could apply for another license in different districts. Baltimare, Des Mares, or even Detrot came to mind. All she needed to do was lose her virginity.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes! That stallion is going to take my virginity! I won’t even charge him, he’s just going to pork me, free of charge, and make me a real mare!”

Beside her, a pony was holding her hooves over a child’s ears. On the other side, the blue pony only sighed.

“Well, good luck catching her,” he said. “Nobody can catch the Dash.”

“Body? What’s a body?” Toaster shook her head. “Come on. I’m a prostitute. I specialize at catching things…”

Chapter 8: To Catch the Dash

“Leera! Leera!” cried Toaster, running through the streets of Ponyville as quickly as she could. Despite being a prostitute, she was not especially fast, even if her stamina was virtually limitless. Her time, however, was not. Her horse hymen was not going to puncture itself. “LEEEEEEEEEEERAAAA!” she cried.

“What?” said Lyra, leaning out of an alley and holding an eggshell pony with a bicolor mane in her forelegs, who she promptly dropped when she saw who was calling her name. “What do you want, Toaster?”

“Cloudwalking spell! Cloudwalking spell, now!”

“Why in Equestria do you need a cloudwalking- -”

“Virginity! Handsome! Rainbow! Horse hymen!”

“What- -”

“CLOUDWALKING SPELL!”

“Alright, alright! Sweet Lusty Luna you’re demanding!” Lyra’s horn glowed a dim orange, and then went out. “There. Done.”

“That’s it?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Toaster turned to leave, but then paused. “Wait…you wouldn’t happen to know what Rainbow Dash likes, would you?”

“Rainbow Dash? Isn’t she a raging alcoholic?”

“Cider, then,” said Toaster, running off. “Need cider! So much cider!”

As Toaster ran off into the distance, Bon Bon looked up at Lyra. “I didn’t know you knew cloudwalking spells,” she said.

“I don’t,” said Lyra. “But what’s the chance she’s going to get herself onto a cloud?”

Rainbow Dash lowered her flight course and rushed past the tops of the trees, feeling the wind running through her mane and tail and listening to the sound of the leaves rustling below. Once again, stunt practice had gone smashingly, giving her an excellent crowd of ponies below to watch her. Even better, this time she had not crashed into anything.

She slowed, and then dropped onto a branch extending from a tree out toward a nearby park. Like many of the best tree branches in Ponyville, it was already equipped with a pillow and a blanket, both stored neatly and ready for use. Rainbow Dash’s job with Ponyville weather management was extremely lucrative, to the point where she could afford a flying mansion made out of solid clouds, but she in fact spent most of her time napping in random spots.

Lying on the branch, Rainbow Dash made herself comfortable and prepared to once again go to sleep- -until she noticed something in the center of the otherwise deserted field. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wondering if one of her many concussions had finally caused her sanity to break down completely. Still unsure if she was hallucinating, she jumped down from the branch and looked around.

Slowly, she crossed the windswept field. There were no ponies around, and not even any animal sounds, but Rainbow Dash had a strange feeling that she was being watched.

“Who’s there?” she called nervously toward the edge of the trees. There was, of course, no response. There was nopony there. Still, Rainbow Dash could not shake the feeling that some large, hungry, drooling predator was watching her from the darkness of the shrubs and trees.

Approaching the spot she had seen, she realized that she had not been hallucinating. There, sitting on a large square of cloth, was a pile of large glass bottles. Rainbow Dash looked down at them, and then around the empty field, confused- -until she realized what was in the bottles.

“Cid…cider,” she said, her eyes widening and her mouth suddenly salivating profusely. “That’s…that’s a lot of cider…”

She looked around again, and then back at the cider. “Well played,” she said, apparently to herself. “If this is a trap, it’s a bucking good one.”

She crossed the cloth and picked up one of the bottles of cider, With her teeth, she popped the cork and immediately chugged half the bottle. She pulled it away from her mouth and gasped loudly. It was definitely cider, but not Applejack’s. It had a warmer flavor, and pleasantly bitter. If anything, Rainbow Dash would have described it as being toasty.

Even if it was not Applejack’s, it was still adequate. Her alcoholism taking control of her, Rainbow Dash downed the rest of the bottle and cracked open the next one, chugging that as well.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said. “Oh, who am I kidding. I’m best pony! It’s always five o’clock for me!”

So, she continued to drink until she eventually collapsed into tears. Then, once she was done crying, she stood up.

“It’s still weird, though. I mean, what jerk leaves perfectly good cider just out like this? Somepony might drink it!” She turned to the brown pony standing inches to her left. “I mean, that’s pretty dumb, right?”

Rainbow Dash looked down at the pile of bottles, and then suddenly gasped as she realized that there was a pony standing beside her. She cried out, and looked up to see a brown unicorn with a manic smile dressed in, of all things, fishnets and a short skirt, her eyes heavily accented with makeup.

Immediately, Rainbow Dash tried to fly, but found that she could not get off the ground.

“What the?” she looked down at the cloth below her, and realized that it was not even cloth at all- -it was a huge sheet of sticky paper.

“Glue paper,” said the brown pony. “You’ll never guess what the glue is made of, either.”

“It’s so sticky!” cried Rainbow Dash, trying to fly away but being held to the paper by the sticky white substance that covered it.

“Not nearly as sticky as you are about to make me,” said the brown mare, nuzzling one of Rainbow Dash’s rear legs. “I want you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but- -”

“Don’t worry,” said the brown pony. “I won’t even charge you. This one is on the house. I just want you to put it into me and fill me up with your sexy rainbow seed. Trust me, it will feel good. And you look durable enough to actually survive the process!”

“Um, how about NO.” Rainbow Dash, now somewhat panicked, flapped her wings faster, pulling herself away from the paper. The downforce was so much that it knocked the brown pony back, and Rainbow Dash continued to rise until the glue connecting her hooves to the ground snapped, freeing her.

Toaster was thrown back, and looked up as Rainbow Dash tried to fly away.

“No! Please come back! I just want to give you fun sexy times!”

Rainbow Dash did not respond, but continued to climb into the air. Toaster started to panic- -it had taken her nearly an hour to cook that much cider, let alone to steal the necessary glue sheet. If Rainbow Dash got away, her chances at having a chance to get hammered by the most athletic and handsome stallion she had ever seen would be gone for good.

There was only one option. Toaster took a deep breath, and charged her horn. A red dot appeared a few inches from her head, and it quickly divided into sixteen, all arranged in a straight line. Forcing more magic into her horn, Toaster divided the sixteen sixteen times into a grid of two hundred fifty six dots. She groaned as she tried to maintain the magic, straining- -not because creating the spell was difficult, of course, but because she was desperately trying to control it. She wanted to bring the stallion down, not vaporize him.

Toaster looked up and aligned her spell toward where Rainbow Dash was flying. Then she let loose. Each of the dots fired with a resounding explosion as the surface to air battery fired and the beams of red light shot skyward.

Rainbow Dash was indeed an impressive flyer, to the point where just watching him avoid the magical projectiles made Toaster moist. He swirled and turned, diving and falling, the red beams cutting past him and burning high into the sky. There were too many, though; eventually, one scored a direct hit. Immediately, the rainbow contrail following behind him was replaced with a trail of smoke as he fell from the sky.

Toaster watched his trajectory, and realized that Rainbow Dash was falling downward toward the sheer cliff at the edge of the park.

“Who puts a cliff at the edge of a park?” cried Toaster, running toward the precipice as fast as her legs could carry her, tracking the falling pony’s course as she moved. “Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead PLEASE don’t be dead,” she muttered to herself.

Toaster did not even stop at the edge of the cliff. Knowing that Lyra had been kind enough to give her a cloudwalking spell, she simply jumped over the edge, fully confident that she would land on a poofy, soft cloud and not be subject to the three hundred foot drop below. Again, she wondered why a park had been put near such a cliff without even a railing or anything.

She slowly started to fall, and Toaster grabbed onto one of the clouds. It did not feel at all like she expected; she had imagined it something like cotton, but instead it was more like a greasy marshmallow.

“Oop! No!” she cried as she slipped through, clinging to the edge of the cloud as she dropped through it. She suddenly realized that there WAS a three hundred foot drop below her. Terrified, she pulled herself up the cloud and managed to climb on top of it, not even noticing that her own horn was glowing red. Despite standing on the cloud, the surface was still slippery, and Toaster fell forward, face-planting into the substance. Weirdly, it tasted of butter and tears.

Trying to level herself, Toaster shakily stood and saw that the stallion who was about to take her virginity had landed on the same cloud. He was singed and blackened, and his flight feathers had been burned away, but he still seemed to be breathing, which was a plus.

“Oh…” he said, rolling over and facing the sky and rubbing his head. “What hit me?”

“I did,” said Toaster, straddling him. “And now you are about to hit me. Breed me like a sheep, you sexy stallion!”

Toaster was larger than the stallion, and heavier. He could not easily get up, especially in his somewhat injured and disoriented state. Toaster turned around on him into the reverse cowgirl position and began rubbing her plot against his crotch, which she knew he must enjoy.

Then, suddenly she stopped.

“Wait a second,” she said, adjusting herself slightly and confirming the anomaly. “Something’s missing…”

She reached down and picked up the stallion’s plot by the his rainbow tail and examined it, immediately finding herself staring into something that was definitely not a penis.

She looked down at Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash looked up at her. Then Toaster smiled awkwardly, gently setting Rainbow Dash’s plot back into the cloud. “Hehe…” she said.

“Really,” said Rainbow Dash. “Is it the hair? I mean, yes, it’s rainbows, but that’s a family trait! My dad had it, and his dad, and his mother- -I’m not gay! Well, except that one time, but she was a griffon so it doesn’t count. And for Daring Do. And possibly Rarity. But not you, whoever you are. I like stallions. Real hairy ones. It’ll take a lot more cider before you start to get my wings stiff.”

“I mean, how was I supposed to know that she was a MARE?” said Toaster, exasperated.

“Dude,” said Scootaloo, sipping her hot cocoa from the crate that she was sitting on. “I totally could have told you that if you had asked.”

“So could I,” said Lyra, looking up from the large sheet of metal she was trying to cut and sighing at her now completely ruined saw- -the third she had wasted on that sheet. This evening, the three of them found themselves in Lyra’s garage. Lyra was hard at work processing the metal she had purchased earlier into whatever it was she was building, while Toaster had come to complain. Scootaloo, being their neighbor, had kind of just showed up. “It’s common knowledge, after all.”

“She doesn’t even look like a stallion,” added Scootaloo.

“I thought she was just a bishonen!”

“Googles,” said Lyra, lowering her own and gesturing for Scootaloo to put on the oversized welding mask that sat next to her. Lyra picked up a plasma torch in her magic and began to attempt to cut the metal. She had more success than with the saw, but she was still barely managing to scratch the gray surface.

Toaster- -who Lyra had not bothered to give a mask- -sighed. “All I wanted to do was lose my virginity…” she looked down at the blinding white light of Lyra’s cutting, and her horn glowed. A beam of red light erupted from it, slashing across the metal plate and instantly cutting it in half. As Lyra looked down wide-eyed, Toaster continued her sad tirade. “I mean, all I wanted to do was have a sexy rainbow stallion shove his long, throbbing penis deep into my tight, unruined pony vagina and ram me until I was his whore…”

“Yeah,” said Lyra, pulling back her goggles. She stepped back and activated an overhead crane, drawing it over to pick up the heavy sheet of two-inch thick metal. “Darn tungsten…how does that dolt expect me to work this stuff? Also, Toaster, I think you might be corrupting Scootaloo.”

“Corrupting her? She’s a young mare. It was about that age that I got ramrodded.”

“You’re a virgin, Toaster,” added Scootaloo.

“Oh,” said Toaster, her slightly wistful mood collapsing as she fell to the floor amongst the pneumatic cables and power conduits. “I forgot.”

“You know, to be honest,” said Scootaloo, “if you put me in that position, I totally would have tasted that rainbow.”

Toaster looked up at the small orange filly, and then at Lyra. “Leeeeera, Scootaloo’s corrupting my innocence!”

“And you’re corrupting the flow to my air ratchet. Get off that.” Lyra shoed Toaster off one of the cables she was lying on, and then looked at Scootaloo. “You are too young to be doing that sort of thing.” She then turned to Toaster. “And you. There is nothing wrong with mares loving mares.”

“Aside from the fact that it’s gross,” said Toaster. “I mean, it’s just natural! Sure, I can take a sixteen incher all the way down, but licking…licking mare parts? That’s just GROSS!”

“No, it is,” said Lyra.

“How would YOU know?”

Lyra suddenly became nervous. “What have you heard? Who have you been talking to? They’re liars!”

“Come on, Lyra, it’s kind of obvious,” said Scootaloo.

“What?” asked Toaster.

“Nothing,” said Lyra, harshly. “This line of questioning is now OVER.” She crossed the room in a huff and opened one of many drawers, searching through it for appropriately sized bolts.

Toaster sat down, and opened her legs. Since she was off duty, she was not wearing her uniform and was instead completely unclothed, so her marehood was easy to see. “I mean, who would want to lick that? It doesn’t look tasty at all…but then again…”

As Scootaloo’s eyes widened, Toaster capitalized on her unusual flexibility and reached down, putting her own head between her legs. She extended her tongue and took a big lick.

The taste hit her suddenly, and Toaster’s eyes widened. She was immediately glad that she had no gag reflex, or else she would have vomited quite considerably. She jumped up, her tongue still extended, and tapped her hooves quickly as though she were preparing to run.

“Eew eew eew EEW EEEW EEEW!” she cried.

“What did you do?” cried Lyra, turning around suddenly. “She didn’t lick the powerconverter, did she?”

“Nope,” said Scootaloo, perfectly calm. “Just her pony pussy.”

Lyra reached down and picked up her robotic hand, put it on, and pointed at Scootaloo. “Language, little filly! In this house, we call it by its name!”

“Weewa it tastf so gwossssss!” cried Toaster, tears welling in her eyes from panic. “Gef if off gef if off!”

“Calm down, it’s not that bad!” yelled Lyra.

“I’m surprised she could reach,” said Scootaloo, slowly sipping her cocoa. “I wouldn’t mind having that talent.”

“Hewp meeeeee!” cried toaster, waving her hooves around her extended tongue. “I can ftill taeft it!”

“Here,” said Scootaloo, dumping the hot chocolate on Toaster’s face.

“HOT!” she cried. Now fully spooked, she began running around the room until she tripped over one of the large cables that passed through the center of the room. She promptly fell- -and lit on fire.

Lyra sighed and produced a fire extinguisher. Before the flames could spread, she blanketed Toaster in a pile of white foam.

“How do you start a fire if there isn’t even anything flammable?” she asked, annoyed. She looked down at the gauge on the fire extinguisher and, seeing that it was empty, threw it into the pile with the other empties that she had accumulated over the past months- -and especially over the past few hours.

“It just happens sometimes,” said Toaster, her head popping out of the bubbles, complete with a white mustache that caused Scootaloo to laugh. “I’m just too hot for my own good.” She turned to Scootaloo. “Sorry about wasting all that hot chocolate.”

“You kidding? Any hot chocolate is good chocolate, but you make the best.”

“Because I AM the best hot chocolate,” said Toaster, shaking her rump toward Scootaloo. Scootaloo snorted loudly and both her and Toaster broke out into fits of laughter.

“You know,” said Lyra, pushing the plate of tungsten across its track on the ceiling toward its destination. “It was a lot quieter here before I had a roommate.”

“Oh, come on Leera, you know you love us.”

“It’s Ly- -oh, why do I even bother.”

Lyra adjusted the machine she was guiding and lifted the plate into place. Toaster crossed the room toward the item that filled most of the garage, the thing that Lyra had been working on for the past two hours and, from the size of it, for quite a long time before.

Whatever it was, it was big. It had a bulky central chamber or cockpit, which was currently open and linked to numerous cables and diagnostic systems that Toaster had been told very specifically not to break, and that central body was connected to a pair of legs that sat below the body as well as a pair of arms, each tipped with a more primitive version of Lyra’s H.A.N.D.

“What exactly is this thing?” said Toaster, walking up to the immense machine while Lyra was riveting yet another plate of metal onto its already extensive armor.

“I call it ‘Anthro I’,” said Lyra. “ I haven’t thought of a backronym for it yet. It’s a suit of power steel.”

“What, like armor?”

“Like robotic armor,” said Lyra.

“That is EPIC,” said Scootaloo, staring wide-eyed at the machine.

“But…it doesn’t look like armor,” said Toaster. “I’ve seen armor. I’ve gotten trapped in a suit of it once. Well, just the helmet. On my rump. This does not look like a pony.”

“Because it isn’t,” said Lyra. “Our pony biology is not well suited for combat. I mean, what? Are we supposed to run up to each other and just beat our enemies with our hooves?”

“Toaster probably beats LOADS of stallions with her hooves,” said Scootaloo.

“See, corrupted,” sighed Lyra. “She’s a little pervert now. And why is she even here? It’s like, ten thirty at night.”

“Because this is way more fun than crying myself to sleep under muffin’s por- -I mean, playing board games with my family. Who are definitely still alive.”

“It seems…weird,” said Toaster, reaching up to an area where one of the arms was partially open and a large system of barrels had been connected to it.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT!” cried Lyra, her magic slapping Toaster away so hard that she rolled across the room. Lyra quickly looked over the region that Toaster had touched, and sighed. “Are you trying to get us killed? That’s the Chekhov’s gun! We REALLY don’t want that going off! Not yet, anyway…”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” said Toaster.

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “What’s a gun?”

Toaster looked up at the massive suit of armor. “What is it that you actually do?”

“I’m an…engineer,” said Lyra, pausing for an oddly long moment.

“It looks hard.”

“That’s what SHE said!” cried Scootaloo.

“Ohhhhhh!” cried Toaster, back. “You got me good there! Actually…” she paused, reaching between her legs. “It’s kind of cold in here. I have the nip pips.”

“It is kind of cold in here,” said Lyra. “Unseasonably so. But that’s better for the mainframe server, I guess.”

“Again, I don’t know what any of that means.”

Chapter 10: There is a Dog in this Chapter

“Careful…careful…” Toaster adjusted the oblong object on the plate with her hoof, positioning it just right. Her nose peeked over the edge of Lyra’s kitchen counter, bringing herself to eye level with her enemy.

“So,” she said,” “we meet once again, egg. This time, you WILL cook evenly and give me a nutritious breakfast.”

She lowered her horn to the egg and charged it. The tip glowed with the slightest red light, and Toaster took a deep breath, trying to control her magic evenly as her horn tingled with energy. “That’s it,” she whispered to herself. “Just a tiny bit of- -”

The energy burst out of her horn and into the egg. She had reduced her output to the smallest possible amount, and the beam still cut a small hole directly through the center of the egg without cooking it- -and through Lyra’s wall. And Muffins’s.

“Mein leiben!” cried Bread’s voice from next door.

Toaster cringed. “Sorry!” she called out the kitchen window. “No eggs, I guess,” she said to herself. As she deposited the egg into the trash with its deceased brethren, she heard the sound of Lyra’s door opening and then shutting. That, she knew, was odd; Lyra was not yet awake. Toaster had checked.

Not caring much, though, Toaster sat down with a pile of bread and assorted jams. As she took out the first slice of bread, a pony walked into view. At first, Toaster was not entirely sure if she was being robbed, but she hoped that she was so that she could pay the intruder with her body- -but then she recognized the mare who had entered the house.

The pony standing at the edge of the kitchen was an off-white eggshell color, with bicolored blue and pink hair and a cutie mark of three wrapped candies. Her eyes were a pleasant blue, but she looked extremely confused to see Toaster sitting at Lyra’s kitchen table.

“Hey, I know you!” said Toaster, setting the last heal of the bread she had just toasted in a pile next to her. “You’re Lyra’s friend!”

“Friend…yeah…” sighed the pony. “Um…who are you?”

“I’m Toaster!” said Toaster. “I’m the prostitute who lives with Lyra!”

The eggshell pony’s eyes widened. “Prostitute, you say?”

“Oh, yes,” said Toaster. “I’m VERY good friends with Lyra at this point!”

“Oh,” said the pony. “I see. Toaster, was it?”

“The toastiest!”

“Excuse me for a moment.”

She passed out of view, and then back into it as her hooves clicked against the stairs as she headed upward. Toaster shrugged and got some more eggs from Lyra’s refrigerator, disappointed to see that she was out of cheese.

From above, a shrill voice began yelling very quickly.

“Lyra! Come osi portare una prostituta in questa casa! Madre Celestia e tutti i Santi, cosa ho fatto per meritare questa disgrazia! Come hai potuto dare il tuo prezioso corpo a una puttana? Cosa direbbe tua madre, tuo padre? Come si potrebbe rompere il mio cuore come questo!”

This was punctuated by the sound of hooves hitting something soft, and Lyra screaming. “What? What the?! Ow! Bon Bon! Stop hitting me! I don’t understand!”

There were more dull thumps, and more shrieking in Italian. Toaster largely ignored it and continued what she was doing. After several minutes, the thumping stopped, and two sets of hooves came down the stairs. Lyra and the other pony- -who Toaster now understood to be named Bon Bon- -came into the doorway.

“Toaster,” said Lyra, rubbing the side of her head while Bon Bon glared at her. “We need to...um…where did all this toast come from?”

“What toast?” Toaster looked around, and realized that she had been compulsively toasting again. The entire kitchen was filled with hundreds of plates of toast, all of it perfectly charred. Some was buttered, and others covered with assorted jams or swirled in chocolate in hundreds of different recipes.

“Is this…this is French toast,” said Lyra, picking up a succulent piece covered in fresh blueberry syrup. “How the hay did you make French toast so fas- -oof!” She stopped when she was elbowed in the side by Bon Bon. “Right, right. We need to talk.”

“I thought that was what we were doing right now.”

Lyra sighed. “Toaster, what exactly is your job?”

“Oh. I’m a prostitute. I take stallion wieners in my various orifices for bits.”

“And you didn’t think to, oh, I don’t know, TELL ME THIS?”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.”

“I thought I did.”

“If you did, I wasn’t listening.”

“She tends to do that,” added Bon Bon.

Lyra groaned and put her hoof to her temple. “I mean, I knew you were a slut- -”

“Oh, so you KNOWINGLY let a slut into your home?” said Bon Bon, raising her voice.

“No, I- -”

“Hey!” said Toaster, angrily. “I resent being called a slut like that! Sluts have lots of sex with lots of ponies, I have sex for cash! I’m a slut for hire!”

“But you told me you were a virgin!”

“So you only like virgins, then?” cried Bon Bon.

“No, I didn’t mean- -”

“I am,” said Toaster.

“How the hay can you be a prostitute AND a virgin?!” cried Lyra. “And what are you even doing in my house, eating my bread?! Why aren’t you back in your crawlspace?!”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened, and she took a step back from Lyra. “You mean you hired a prostitute and force her to live under your house? Lyra, do I even know you?”

“It’s not like- -it isn’t- -arrrg!” Lyra put her hoof on her temple.

“I came up here because I needed to use the toilet,” explained Toaster. “I passed about twenty five pounds or rasins and wax paper. You know, from the muffins. And those pink papery things that were hanging inside the house.”

“Pink papery things?”

“Oh yeah,” said Bon Bon. “Pinkie invited everypony to something…I didn’t go, because I was going to go out with SOMEPONY today…somepony who clearly does not believe in being well rested and would rather rub horns with a young unicorn instead of with- -”

“Wait, you ate invitation?”

“They smelled like frosting. I assumed they were edible.”

“Where they?”

“Eh,” Toaster shifted her hoof in the air. “Debatable. Anyway, I fell asleep on the pot and woke up hungry.”

“So you ate all my food? And where’s my rent?”

“In some stallion’s pocket right now, I guess.”

“LYRA! You’re pimping this girl for money now?”

“What- -no! NO! She just lives under the house, and- -and- -” She took a deep breath. “Toaster,” she said. “Please tell Bon Bon how you feel about lesponies.”

“It’s really, really, really gross!” said Toaster, making a face. “I mean, I guess they’re ponies too, but the idea of doing it with another mare is just- -eew! Even I can’t be paid enough to do that!”

Lyra turned to Bon Bon. “See?”

Bon Bon’s expression softened slightly. “So…you didn’t have sex with my Lyra?”

“Eew! No! Although sometimes I watch her sleep…”

“Wait, what?”

“And besides, Leera has a coltfriend. She told me so.”

Bon Bon’s eyes suddenly narrowed again. “A coltfriend on the side now, too?”

“Yes,” said Lyra through gritted teeth. “A ‘coltfriend’ who is very, VERY thick-skulled.”

“Of course, I’ll still hit a stallion if he has a coltfriend. Or fillyfriend. Hey, do you think I could charge extra for them to watch?”

“That’s gross.”

“Not as gross as the taste of vagina.”

“HER OWN!” cried Lyra suddenly, before Bon Bon could glare at her.

“Actually, that reminds me,” said Toaster. “What day is it?”

“Um…Tuesday, maybe?” suggested Bon Bon.

“Oh sweet Celestia,” said Lyra. “Why did you have to tell her that?”

“Why? It’s just- -”

“TACO TUESDAY!!”

“That’s why.”

“I forgot what day it was!” cried Toaster, searching under plates and bowls and measuring cups of toast. “Where’s my saddle, my perfume? Tuesday is the BEST day for prostituting, and I need to get an early start if I want to get my start earlied!”

“What does that even mean?”

Toaster ran out of the room, and then poked her head back in. “You can have the toast,” she said. “I don’t really care for it much myself.” She left again, and then poked her head back in. “Oh, and Leera, you might want to call a plumber.” Then she left a third time, and her departure was punctuated by the slamming of the door as she left.

Bon Bon watched her go, and Lyra entered the room and slouched at one of the chairs to the kitchen table.

“Don’t you lock your door?” asked Bon Bon, pulling up a chair across from Lyra.

“She gets in anyway. I’m not sure how.” She slid a plate of extremely fancy toast to Bon Bon. “Want to have breakfast?”

“Sure,” said Bon Bon. “But I’m still mad at you.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought you were doing it with a prostitute behind my back!”

“But I wasn’t!”

“Doesn’t matter, I thought you were, and that’s why I’m mad!”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“But,” said Bon Bon, taking a bite of a plump piece of decadent French toast drizzled in what Lyra hoped was raspberry syrup, “I suppose you can make it up to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Eat your toast before it gets cold. Then we’ll go upstairs, and you will be spending the rest of the morning eating something else entirely.”

“Snickerdoodles?”

Bon Bon sighed. “No. Me. You will be eating me.”

“What, like in cupcakes? Or made into little candies?”

Bon Bon kicked Lyra beneath the table, and Lyra broke out laughing. After realizing that Lyra was joking, so did Bon Bon.

Toaster ran out of the house, nearly tripping on Lyra’s staircase. She found her clothes in one of Lyra’s shrubs and quickly put them on. She ran down the path to street, and turned the corner suddenly to find herself face-to-face with a monster.

“Gasp!” she cried, jumping backward and falling onto her back. Her legs flailed for a moment, and then she stood up to realize that it was not in fact a monster but some kind of dog with a long, narrow face and a shaggy white coat. Holding onto its leash was a gray Pegasus, and Toaster realized that it must have been Muffin’s dog- -not just because she was holding the leash, but because it, like her, had severely derped yellow eyes.

“What are you?!” cried Toaster to the dog.

“Oh,” said Muffins. “Hi Toaster. He’s a borzoi.”

“He has a mosquito head! I don’t know if I should hug him or run screaming! What even is a borzoi?”

“It’s a type of sight hound.”

The dog sat on its haunches and stared at Toaster- -or, rather, it faced her while one eye looked up at the treeline and andother seemed to contemplate the edge of the sidewalk.

“Sight hound, you say? As in, seeing?”

“Yes,” said Muffins, excitedly. She descended slightly and scratched the dog behind one of its floppy ears. “He’s my wittew wuvvy boy, insn’t he?”

“Is that question rhetorical?”

“Actually, Toaster, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a minute.”

“I don’t,” said Toaster. “It’s Taco Tuesday, and Tostadora necessita el chorizo en su taco ahorita!”

“It’s not Tuesday,” said Muffins.

“It isn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Toaster paused. “I have been deceived!”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure it’s Tuesday somewhere.”

“It’s just not the same.” Toaster sank to the ground in disappointment.

“Oh. Does that mean you have time to talk?”

“Sure.”

Muffins dropped to the ground and walked off the sidewalk, into the green that was across from her house. She sat down at the bench where Toaster had seen the gray-eyed unicorn sitting the previous day. Toaster did not move, but was rather pushed and rolled to her new location by Muffin’s dog, which was now leashless.

“Wow,” said Muffins as Toaster was finally repositioned at the base of the bench. “You really are disappointed.”

“I love Taco Tuesday,” said Toaster. She looked up, seeing that Muffins was confused- -perhaps about the meaning to Taco Tuesday, but also just perhaps in general. “Back at the brothel, we always had a huge sale on Tuesdays nights. The other girls had lines out the door. But no one ever came for me.”

Toaster got up and sat on the bench with Muffins. The dog immediately sat at the base of a nearby tree and stared up at it- -or rather, at a nearby shrub and at a trashcan while it faced the tree.

“Bark! Bark! Bark!” it said.

“Is that what dogs sound like?” asked Toaster, surprised at how similar to a pony voice it sounded.

“You’ve never heard a dog bark before?”

“He’s the first dog I ever met. Or even seen.”

“Really?”

“We didn’t allow them into the brothel. There’s a law against that sort of thing.”

“But what about before you worked there?”

“Before? I was a filly. How could a filly ever get to see a dog?”

“I don’t understand.”

Toaster almost made a comment about Muffins’s obvious inbreeding, but decided that it would probably be insulting.

“So,” she said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Muffins paused, and the dog seemed to notice. It walked back to the bench, and Muffins put her hoof on its oddly narrow head. “There was a town meeting last night,” she finally said.

“Yes, I know. I ate, like, twelve invitations for it.”

“Really? I only managed to get down two.”

“Yeah, no gag reflex,” said Toaster. To demonstrate, she shoved her hoof up to the carpus down her throat. “Fee?” She pulled her hoof out, shaking off the various digestive secretions. The dog shuddered.

“Did you read the invitations, Toaster?”

Toaster paused, slightly ashamed. “I’m not so good at reading. On account of never having gone to school.”

“Oh. I had that same problem when I was younger. Because of the double vision.”

“Yeah, how do you actually see anything with your eyes like that?”

“Practice.” Muffins realized that she was getting off topic. “Oh yeah!” Then, less enthusiastically, “oh, yeah…I remember now.”

“What? How you got derped?”

The dog seemed to take offense to this, and growled loudly at her.

“It’s okay,” said Muffins to the dog. “She turned back to toaster. “The meeting was about you.”

“Really?” said Toaster, confused. She knew that she was new to Ponyville, but she was just an ordinary pony, the same as anypony else. “Were there cookies?”

“No, but there were cupcakes.”

“Did you eat one with blue frosting?”

“No, why?”

“Because you know what they say about the blue ones.”

“No, actually. But at the meeting, there was some concern over your profession.”

“You mean slip-sliding stallions on my babymaker for fat cash?”

“Yes. That.” She sighed. “Toaster, I’m really worried. They seemed really mad.”

“Angry sex is best sex.”

“Not like that. It’s just…do you really have to be a prostitute?”

“Yes,” said Toaster, without hesitation.

“But…why?”

“Because it is what I was made for,” explained Toaster. “Just like you were made for…” she leaned back and looked down at Muffins’s rump. “Bubbles? Um…bad example?”

“But isn’t it dangerous?”

“A little bit, I guess. But it is necessary.”

“Why?”

Toaster looked Muffins in the eye- -only one of them, because the other was looking somewhere else- -“because it is so important. We whores, we do important work. When stallions feel lonely and sad, they can come to us. When they can’t find love, or when they just need to hold another pony. We give them pleasure when they can’t form or don’t want a real relationship. I just want to make them happy.”

“Aww…” Muffins passed a handkerchief to her dog, which was tearing up.

“Besides,” said Toaster. “I think you’re misinterpreting the interpretation a bit. Everypony loves prostitutes! They’re all so nice to me!”

“But it’s not just that,” said Muffins. “Toaster, something is going to come…”

“Right inside me, hopefully.”

“Hopefully, but not that. Something bad is going to happen here, and soon.”

“Like what?”

Muffins shook her head. “I don’t know…but something really, really, REALLY bad.”

“Bark,” added her dog.

“That’s why my family sent me Bread, and why I sent my daughters to my parent’s house in Las Pegasus…”

“Wait!” cried Toaster, her eyes wide. “You mean you have…DAUGHTERS? How old even are you? And they’re not- -” Toaster shuddered at the thought. “- -I mean, he’s your brother!”

Muffins chuckled. “I got a little wild in my graduate school days,” she admitted. “But I don’t regret anything. They’re two beautiful, talented unicorns…my little muffins…and I love them. I hated having to send them away, but it’s just not safe here right now.”

“Looks safe to me,” said Toaster, looking up at the idyllic pastoral landscape that surrounded her. There were trees and grass and the sound of children playing in the distance. She liked this place, and liked it a lot.

Toaster got off the bench, and hugged Muffins. She smelled surprisingly good, and her wings were very soft. “Thank you for the advice,” said Toaster. “But you’re overacting. I know what I’m doing. I’m a professional.” She looked down at the borzoi. “And it was nice to meet you two, even if you have a funny head that horrifies me on an instinctual level! You’re just so cute!”

She then trotted off, and Muffins’s expression fell. Her dog seemed to notice, and put its head on the bench, its derped eyes looking up at her.

“I know, I know,” said Muffins. “You told me she wouldn’t listen. But I didn’t listen. I just hope she’s okay.”

Chapter 11: Flutterbutter

Days passed. At first, Toaster was happy and hopeful, just knowing that as soon as she walked into town she would be swarmed with wonderful customers. Every day, she would start early in the morning, marching into town with her head held high and her various slutty outfits at their sluttiest. She would walk the streets and meander through town, trying to lure in any stallion that she could, and she would stay out until late in the evening, prowling the town for late-night visitors.

As time passed, though, her situation stayed the same. None came. She had no customers. At most they would look at her, and she would smile, just as she had been taught to- -and they would turn away. She just did not understand, and every day, she became increasingly discouraged.

The few ponies that she knew were supportive. In what little time she took off from work, she would occasionally spend time taking to Scootaloo in Lyra’s backyard about various things. Sometimes she would talk to Lyra, but Lyra was always working, either welding things onto her armored vehicle or assembling armor and whatever “assault weapons” were. Toaster would also sometimes see Muffins and Bread in town, almost always together, or Bread alone. Bread was her favorite, because he brought her food.

After four days, though, the desperation started to set in. Toaster became increasingly cognizant of her situation, that she had been fired from her brothel for poor performance and that she was once again repeating that pattern- -but this time, it was worse. In the brothel, customers would sometimes come and ask for her, even if she could never finish the job. Her in Ponyville, though, none of them even propositioned her. She was failing again, and it terrified her, because if she failed here, she did not know what she could do next.

So, on that forth day, she found herself racing through the streets as a brown pony with an hourglass cutie mark ducked in and out of the allies and between buildings. He was quick, as if he had practiced running considerably, but Toaster had limitless reserves of prostitute stamina. She raced through the streets, jumping over the waste bins that he tipped over to try to stop.

“Come on, you know you wan’ it,” she said, replicating perfectly an accent that she suspected he would prefer. “Come over here and show me yer ‘sonic screwdriver’!”

“No!” he cried, panting. “Just go away!”

“Not until you pay me!”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“Not YET! Now get ove’ here and turn my hourglass!”

“Nooooooo!”

He ran across a large open area and Toaster knew that she had won. The only thing in that area was a kind of blue shed.

She accelerated, and she could almost taste his stallionhood. He was not much to look at, but at least his color was better than hers. He had actually stopped to talk to her, not like the others. He had only asked the time, but Toaster knew that he wanted her bad.

The stallion ducked into the door of the blue box, and closed it. Toaster heard the sound of several deadbolts locking as she approached and pounded on the door.

“Don’t close it yet! I’m not inside!” she cried. Then, increasingly panicked. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit! I’m bigger on the inside!”

“Go away!” he said form inside the box.

Toaster sat outside the box for a moment, holding onto it, and felt tears welling in her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, mostly to herself, and then slowly walked away. She immediately set her eyes on another passing pony, and leapt out at him.

“Five bits for a suck and a blow? Two for a hoof?”

“No,” said the blue, gray eyed unicorn.

“Me neither,” said his companion, a unicorn who was identical in every way, down to the snowflake cutie mark.

“PLEEEEEAAASSEE!” cried Toaster, grabbing onto his rear leg as she walked away. His body was oddly cold, but Toaster held on as he dragged her. “Okay, okay, one time low price! Five bits for a full ride! Anything goes! Three? One! One bit! Please! I need money! Just buck me, mister, I won’t tell anypony! Promise!”

“Filthy pony,” he growled and slammed his front hoof into Toaster’s forehead. She saw a number of bright lights, and was thrown backward into the mud.

“Please…please…” muttered Toaster incoherently as the pair of unicorns walked off. “I just want you to love me…”

The blow had been surprisingly substantial, and part of it had impacted Toaster’s horn. She managed to stand and shakily moved into an alleyway, where she leaned against a dirty wall. As she did, several cold, wet droplets landed on her body. She looked up to see a crowd of Pegasi moving already leaky clouds into position, darkening the sky. It was starting to rain.

Toaster let out a long sigh, and let the raindrops fall down her face to disguise her tears. There was nothing in the alley except for rats, a drunk or possibly dead pink mare clinging to a mostly drained wine bottle, and several dumpsters. Toaster considered climbing into one of the dumpsters and just lying there.

Then, suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Toaster immediately ceased crying and restored her professional outward appearance and turned toward whoever had touched her.

“Hey there, mister stallion, feeling lonely to- -”

Her words caught in her throat and her expression fell when she saw that the pony who had tapped her shoulder was not a horny stallion, but in fact a yellow Pegasus mare with long, pink hair.

Before Toaster could ask why this mare was there, the mare lifted a shaking hoof with a bit in it.

“I’d like to…um…I don’t really know what the verb is, because it’s…oh…probably dirty. But…I have money…and if it’s okay, I’d like to…well…”

Toaster looked down at the mare standing before her- -she was shorter than Toaster, but not by much- -and her mind momentarily froze. She had long ago sworn never to lie with a mare- -but there, before her, was a shiny golden bit, just waiting for her to earn it. This was the first time she had been propositioned since she had come to Ponyville, and the Pegasus was not unattractive- -but she was a SHE.

“Yes,” said Toaster, before her mind could think about it very much. She assumed her professional face once again, but was glad for the rain, because now she had completely lost the ability to control the tears. She lowered her head and nuzzled mare. She giggled awkwardly, as though she were afraid and nervous- -but not nearly as nervous as Toaster was. “My, what a soft one you are! I’ll be sure to be extra gentle on you…” she leaned closer. “Unless you’d prefer I wasn’t…”

“Oh my,” said the mare, producing a forced smile as Toaster took her bit, sealing the contract.

“You want to step into my office?” said Toaster, pointing toward the alley. She looked down at the drunk pony. “I think she might be dead,” she said, pointing. “So I guess we don’t have to worry…”

“Out here in the rain?” said the yellow mare. “Oh dear…you could catch a cold! Or worse, pneumonia! No, I simply can’t stand by and let that happen to a pony in need! You can come with me to my cottage. We can…eeh…do what we need to do there…”

“I’m yours for the night, miss…”

“Fluttershy. My name is Fluttershy.”

As soon as Toaster stepped into the cottage, she was overwhelmed with the smell of animals- -a LOT of animals. At least one of them was a ferret. They were definitely well cared for, but the house still smelled like a zoo, and Toaster could see birdhouses- -not outside, where birds were supposed to live, but hanging from the ceiling. With birds in them.

“Nice place you have here,” wheezed Toaster, though her watering eyes.

“Thank you,” said Fluttershy. “Can I take your clothes?”

“Oh, wow,” said Toaster. “You’re really chomping at the bit, aren’t you?”

“Oh my,” said Fluttershy, blushing heavily.

“Well, if you want a show…” Toaster threw her wet hair back and looked at the mare, trying her best to pretend that she was instead facing a handsome stud of a stallion instead of a soft, demure mare. “Oh, Fluttershy, look at me,” she said, running her hoof down her body. “I’m all wet…” Before Fluttershy could react, Toaster danced into the center of the room. With trained precision, she moved to nonexistent music, slipping off her clothing with ease as she swirled gracefully around the floor. Her stockings, her skirt, her blouse all came off and she continued to gyrate, now totally nude.

“Oh my,” said the yellow mare, putting her hoof in front of the eyes of a small white rabbit that had appeared beside her. As she did, her wings compulsively extended. “Eep!” cried Fluttershy, trying to force them back down as she blushed. “My down!”

Toaster giggled slightly, in part because it was funny and in part because she was terrified. Not only had she accepted a job from a mare, but she had been led to her house out in the woods. All alone. With nopony around. For all she knew, this “Fluttershy” could be a serial killer intent on toast for dinner. Nevertheless, Toaster had accepted the job- -and by the Sex Goddess Cadence, she would finish it.

Finishing her dance, Toaster flopped down onto the couch in the room, spreading her legs coyly. “Now that I’m all dry, why don’t you come over here, and we’ll get…toasty.”

“Oh sweet Necros,” said Fluttershy. She turned to the rabbit. “Angel Bunny…(gulp)…you might not want to watch this next part.”

The rabbit made a gagging gesture and hopped off. Rain pounded down on the windows outside, and Toaster took note of it.

“It’s really going down out there,” she said. Then, smiling seductively. “I guess it and me are about to have something in common.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Fluttershy, weakly. She sat down on the farthest possible end of the couch, pushing Toaster’s lower hooves out of the way and leaning far over the armrest.

“Aww,” said Toaster, sitting up and leaning her naked body on Fluttershy’s. She was oddly soft, softer than even the softest of Canterlot whores. Toaster was jealous. “You don’t need to be nervous. I don’t bite. Well, not enough to draw blood. Well, not enough to leave permanent scars. Well…” She stopped herself. That was counterproductive. “Let’s just start slow.”

Carefully, Toaster turned the other mare in her seat. Fluttershy’s body stiffened, but she was surprisingly submissive. Toaster easily got her into a preening position, with her wings facing hers. This was the most Toaster could bring herself to do so early on. Toaster had, in fact, preened a mare before; it was part of her training. She had actually done extremely well. Wing action was not really gay, after all. Wings were just wings.

Toaster reached down and rubbed her head against the center point of the wings, where the nerve plexus passed through them. Fluttershy cried out as her wings instinctively extended, to the point where all of her pale white-yellow down was exposed.

Slowly, Toaster leaned in and nibbled on a flight feather. As she did, she was suddenly struck in the face by a plume of feathers as the mare’s wings suddenly clenched with enough force to knock Toaster backward.

“Crap!” she cried, panicking, wondering if she had hurt the poor girl. “That’s never happened before! Are you okay? Did I go to hard?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No…they’re just sensitive…”

“So no wings, then,” said Toaster. She took a deep breath, trying to control her nausea. “Then I guess…” She centered herself, and put on a happy face. The customer was always right- -and they were sensitive to hesitation. The prostitute must always be in control of the interaction, must always lead. She cannot show weakness. “Does that mean you want me to move onto the main course, then?”

“Main- -main course?”

“I do wonder what flavor you are.”

Before she could back out, Toaster reached down and lifted the mare’s tail. Fluttershy squeaked in displeasure, but hid her face with her hooves. Toaster found herself face-to-face with her opponent, the most perfectly shaped set of mare-parts she had ever seen, a thin strip of pink in the middle of a perfect yellow body.

Toaster reached in and cupped one of her client’s mammates, and felt her hoof shaking. She still remembered what her own had tasted like, and knew that this was not going to be fun. Slowly, she extended her tongue and them moved in for the kill.

Almost as soon has her tongue had just barely touched Fluttershy’s lips, the yellow mare jumped so high that she struck the ceiling, rattling several birdhouses and sending a number of small and hopefully non-insectoid creatures scuttling from beneath the couch.

“Come on,” said Toaster, now somewhat angry as she smacked her lips to try to get the horrible sour taste out of her mouth, which was actually somewhat reminiscent of lemon-vanilla custard. “Look, I don’t usually do mares, and you’re not making this easy for me.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Fluttershy, gasping as she descended, shaking, onto the couch. “I’m just…afraid.”

“Aww,” said Toaster. She reached out and kissed the other mare. That was not terribly disgusting, but it was still unpleasant. Toaster did not even bother to use tongue. “It’s okay. I work for you, remember? Just hold still and let it happen. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I always promise that.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath. “Okay.” She once again raised her rump. “It’s just…I’ve never had anypony put anything…well…down there.”

“I know,” said Toaster, once again lifting the mare’s tail. As soon as she saw those mare-parts again, she almost threw up. Then an idea occurred to her.

“Hmm,” she said, pulling Fluttershy’s tail higher and revealing an entirly different orifice. “I suppose I could just rim you…you’d like that, I think.” That, and a plot hole was a plot hole. It was not a gender-specific technique, and Toaster was okay with it.

She leaned in, but once again Fluttershy cried out. This time, instead of jumping, she slammed her plot so hard against the couch that more small things came out from below- -and this time, Toaster saw that they really WERE bugs.

“Can we just…cuddle, mayble?”

“What gives?” said Toaster, suspicious. “You went through the trouble of going out into a rainstorm to hire a whore, but when I actually try to pleasure you, you won’t let me? It’s almost like…” Toaster’s eyes widened. “It’s almost like didn’t even WANT sex. Like you were just trying to be NICE.”

Toaster stared accusingly into Fluttershy’s eyes, and Fluttershy suddenly smiled awkwardly.

“You got me,” she said.

“I see,” said Toaster, calmly. Then, all at once, she collapsed onto Fluttershy’s lap, releasing all the tears and sobbing that she had been containing within herself.

“Oh my!”

“What’s wrong with me?!” cried Toaster, soaking Fluttershy with tears. “I can’t do anything right! Nopony wants me! Am I ugly?! I’m too ugly!”

“No, no,” said Fluttershy, stroking Toaster’s green hair. “You’re not ugly. You’re a pretty pony.”

“No, I’m ugly! I’m the poopie baby! All I ever wanted to do was have sex, and get paid for it, and I can’t even do that! Literally EVERY mare can have sex, but I can’t! I just want to be LOVED!”

“Shh, shhh,” said Fluttershy, petting the sobbing prostitute ontop of her legs. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No it isn’t! I got fired from my job because I’m a virgin! Because I spent three years in a brothel and couldn’t get laid ONCE! And now everypony here hates me! I’m a failure! A horrible, ugly virgin failure!”

“No, no,” said Fluttershy, hugging Toaster. “Hugs make everything better.”

Toaster responded by hugging Fluttershy so hard that she heard something inside crack. Then she laid back down on Fluttershy’s lap, and let herself slowly wind down.

Eventually, Fluttershy spoke. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…have you ever considered that maybe selling your body, well…”

“What?”

“Well, that it might not be your special talent?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Toaster. “Of course it is.”

“But why?”

“If I can’t even have sex right, what else do you think I can do? Nothing…”

“Was it some sort of childhood trauma, maybe?” Fluttershy gasped, and whispered. “Where you sexually abused?”

“No,” said Toater. “I had a completely normal childhood. I grew up happy, and my daddy loved me. He once even patted me on the head, and said, ‘you are going to do great things’. That memory got me through some tough times…” She thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s because I never knew my mother? Maybe I never had a female role model to tell me how to please a stallion properly. Yeah, that’s it!”

“You’re lucky in that regard,” said Fluttershy, oddly darkly.

“What? Why? Oh sweet Luna’s Nightmare-stained plot, don’t tell me you’re an orphan and I just messed up real bad.”

“Oh, no no no no no! I have a mother, and a father…and a brother.”

“That sounds pretty normal.”

“The last two are the same pony.”

“Oh,” said Toaster. Then, dong the mental math, “OH.”

“Yeah. My mother isn’t exactly a nice pony. Or a pony at all. If she had been here, you would have gotten, well…”

“Screwed?”

“Yes. After disembowelment. She’s really into that whole ‘necrophila’ thing.”

“Eew.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you know what they say: ‘incest is wincest’.”

“Nopony says that.”

“I say that.”

They both paused for a moment, and then laughed just a little bit. Toaster felt a little better. “I wonder if I have any siblings,” she asked, more to herself than to Fluttershy.

“Look,” said Fluttershy. “Toaster, was it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fluttershly reached for a tissue and passed it to Toaster. “I know what it feels like to be different from other ponies, and how hard it can be.”

“Really?”

Fluttershy nodded, and extended her wings. “I’m a Pegasus, from Cloudsdale. But I can hardly fly. Back in flight school, everypony said I was fat. They even had a nickname.”

“What was it?”

“Flutterbutter.” Toaster used her full concentration to suppress a snort of laughter. That simply would not do, not against the pony who had invited her into her house on a rainy day and tried to make her feel better. “Ponies…how to put this…they don’t like what you’re doing.”

“But everypony loves sex!”

“Yes, but around here…it’s different.”

“So everypony hates me?”

“I wouldn’t say that they HATE you, but…”

“Oh,” said Toaster. “Well, then, how did you deal with it? When you were fat?”

“I wasn’t actually fat,” corrected Fluttershy. “I was actually rather willowy.”

“But you’re not a tree.”

“Not yet. And don’t start with that.”

“Sorry.”

“What I did was, I found friends. First was Rainbow Dash, but then others who would help me when I needed it. Surely you have made some friends by now?”

“Well, I guess so,” said Toaster, counting ponies that she knew. “There’s Lyra, and Pink Friend, Scootaloo, Muffins and her brother…”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Muffins doesn’t have a brother.”

Toaster blinked. “Then who’s been bringing me food? Are you sure?”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’ve known Muffins my whole life. She used to foal-sit me. I even knew her when she was named Ditzy Doo. She’s an only foal. She did have the cutest little borzoi puppy, though…”

“But I can’t have sex with my friends! They’re all female! No offense, though, you actually tasted okay for a mare.”

Fluttershy smiled and shrugged. “I try.” Then she lifted Toaster up and looked her in the eye. “I don’t think this is a problem I can solve for you. I’ll be here to support you if you need to talk to somepony, but I think this is something you might need to find out on your own.”

“My own? How?”

“Well, just think about the root of your problem.”

“I do spend a lot of time thinking about roots…”

“And if that doesn’t work, you can always talk to Twilight.”

“Wait, you mean PRINCESS Twilight? No way I can talk to her! I don’t even know where she lives!”

Fluttershy blinked. “In the big castle. You know, the one made out of crystal.”

“Well, yeah, I figured she lives in a castle, but I don’t even know where it is.”

“Um, just outside of town.”

“Yeah, but WHICH town?”

“Uh…this one?”

Toaster’s eyes widened to a degree that actually appeared to frighten Flutterbutter. “You mean Princess Twilight lives HERE? In PONYVILLE?”

“Yes?” squeaked Fluttershy.

Toaster groaned loudly. “No one tells me anything.”

“You seriously didn’t know?”

“Of course not!”

“How? It takes up most of the town.”

“I specialize in sex, not smarts. Well…” Toaster’s spirits fell again. “I guess I don’t specialize in anything anymore…”

“Hey, now, cheer up,” said Fluttershy. She pointed out the window. “Look, the rain is starting to slow. You can stay here if you want until it finishes.”

“Thank you, but no,” said Toaster, hugging the yellow mare once again. “I need to do some thinking. And here.” She pressed the bit she had been paid back into Fluttershy’s hoof. “I don’t take hoofouts.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am,” said Toaster, crossing the room and opening the door. “Thank you so much.”

Toaster smiled and waved as she left and walked down Fluttershy’s cobblestone path. As she did, Fluttershy flopped back onto her couch. She smiled, glad that she had helped a pony in need. She looked around the room and suddenly realized that Toaster had left her clothing.

“Oh dear,” said Fluttershy. “I’ll have to send it back to her…unless…” She picked up Toaster’s super-short, semi-transparent skirt and held it to her waist. “I think this might actually fit me.”

As she was doing this, Angel suddenly entered the room.

“ANGEL!” cried Fluttershy, throwing the skirt behind her couch and jumping on the fishnets that she was about to try next. “What are you doing here?”

The rabbit squeaked slightly.

“What do you mean the refrigerator is empty? I just filled it!”

Chapter 12: Unfunny Chapter that Drives the Plot

The rain had dulled to a slight trickle, and by the swearing above, it likely seemed to be from technical difficulties. Toaster did not mind, though. She was used to living outside, and rain did not bother her.

Lost in thought as she wandered through the town, she hardly noticed the rain- -or how ponies would turn up their noses at her, or retreat to their homes, closing the doors, or even spit on her. Her mind was not able to focus on more than one thing at once.

“My problem,” she said to herself. “What is my problem? My problem is that I don’t have enough customers…” She paused. That was not what Fluttershy meant. There was a reason why Toaster did not have customers, and she did not know it. While initially she had assumed that she was physically defective somehow, now she was not so sure. Her confusion was deeper, and continued to grow more profound the more she thought about what Fluttershy had said. “No…it’s not that…it’s not even the job…it’s something more complex than that…but what? Why am I failing?” She turned to the pony who had been walking beside her for several minutes. “I just don’t understa- -HOLY BUCK!”

Suddenly realizing that a pony was standing inches from her caused Toaster to jump higher and harder than she ever had in her life. Within a few seconds, though, with her heart racing, Toaster realized that there was no real threat. She recognized the pink, straight-haired pony who had appeared beside her.

“Oh,” said Toaster as the gutter she was holding onto started to creak and disconnected from the building, slamming her into the ground with a thud. “It’s just you, Pink Friend.”

“My name is Pinkie Pie. Or have you taken one to many shots from a party cannon to the head?”

“I sure hope not,” said Toaster. “That sounds painful.”

“Only painful to society’s morals.”

“Wait, when did we start talking about mushrooms?” Toaster paused. “You wouldn’t happen to HAVE some mushrooms, would you?”

Pinkie stared at toaster for a long moment. “I get the joke, but I’m not going to laugh. Because you are a whore.”

“Well, that logic doesn’t follow. Or it might. I think I hit my head falling off that building.”

Pinkie Pie shoved a plate into Toaster’s face. “Cupcake?” she said, smiling.

Toaster gasped. “Cupcakes? Really?! Oh, I’m so happy! Thank you Pink Friend!”

Pinkie pulled the cover off the plate, and Toaster reached in to grab a cupcake- -until she saw that every single one of them was blue.

“Um, on second thought, I kind of need to slim down.”

“Oh, come on,” said Pinkie. “It won’t put that much cushie in your tushie! Just one bite, a little Toaster nibble…that’s all it will take…”

“Nope. Only two things I won’t eat. One of them is blue cupcakes.”

“Darn it,” said Pinkie, dropping setting down the cupcakes.

“But the though is still nice!” said Toaster, seeing how disappointed Pinkie was. “It’s nice to know that I have friends here in Ponyville…friends…”

Pinkie looked up, and something glimmered in her eye. “You look down, Toaster. Is something wrong?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I was just coming back from Fluttershy’s…”

“Fluttershy? What were you doing at Fluttershy’s house?”

“Oh, that. She rented me for a bit.”

“Waifu theft!”

“Excuse me?”

“Eh ha ha…nothing,” said Pinkie, smiling. She put her foreleg around Toaster. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong? I’m sure I can think of something that will cheer you up!”

“Well,” said Toaster as the two of them started walking down the muddy street, “it’s just that…for some reason, business hasn’t been all that good lately.”

“You don’t say? I wonder why.”

“So do I!” gasped Toaster. “It’s like your mind is my mind! Are we sisters or something?”

Pinkie Pie nearly vomited. “I sure hope not,” she said.

“Oh. Well, if that’s the case, then I should let you know that I don’t go for mares. Tried it with Fluttershy, and although she tasted okay, I don’t swing that way.”

“You tasted Fluttershy? What did she taste like?” Pinkie Pie shook her head. “No…off topic.”

“When I was there, she encouraged me to think about WHY I’m having this problem. I mean, at first I thought something was wrong with me, and it still might be, but now…now I’m starting to wonder why this is so hard, and why I’m not happy doing this.”

Pinkie smiled, perhaps too widely. “Oh, I just can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you! I mean, moving all the way out here and leaving all your friends and family behind in Canterlot- -”

“Oh, I don’t have any friends and family in Canterlot.”

“No…no friends?”

“Never had time. Too busy.”

“Oh,” said Pinkie, her eyes narrowing. “Figures. But still. You came all the way out here, and into such a competitive market.”

Toaster froze. “What?”

“Oh, I thought you knew. Or I knew you thought. Which, at this point, it kinda seems you don’t. I mean, all your business acuhymen- -I mean acumen, I figured you were just ambitious to come to such a saturated, moist market- -oh sweet Celestia, it’s catching!”

“Wait, you mean I’m NOT the only prostitute in Ponyville? There’s MORE?”

“Of course, silly!”

“Competition!” cried Toaster, suddenly realizing the answer to Fluttershy’s question. She was failing to fulfil her special talent and become happy not because she was doing something wrong, but because she had mistakenly entered a market without realizing that it was already filled. Of course, in retrospect it all made sense- -all the stallions in this town looked so happy, they MUST have been having sex with somepony. “Who is it? Where is she?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that, silly! It would breach my Pinkie privacy policy!”

Pinkie started to trot off.

“Wait, don’t go!”

“Can’t stay, got a lot to do today!” then, her voice darkening. “I’ve got one heck of a party to plan…”

Toaster was left standing in the middle of the street while Pinkie ducked behind a building.

“Heh heh heh,” she said. “I’m so evil in this story.” She reached into her hair and pulled out a cupcake and munched on it. Then, as she did, her eyes widened. She looked down and realized it was blue frosted. “Aww, buck,” she said. “Buck me ‘till I’m stuck like a duck. Welp, guess I’m going to the hospital.”

Toaster sat in the street for a moment, feeling the rain running down her back. She knew that somewhere out there, somehow, somepony was stealing her stallions. That just was not fair. Really, she was used to playing second fiddle to more successful prostitutes; she knew she was not actually that good. But to have one competitor taking every steamy transaction in town while Toaster was left a virgin was just not fair.

So she sat down and pondered for a moment. As she did, she realized that she was in a part of town that she had not yet been too. Then, as she watched, the door to a large and ornate stand-alone building with an immaculate lawn opened.

Two stallions stepped out, one following the other. They were both slightly disheveled and disproportionally sweaty for the coolness of the day. They both turned to each other and giggled slightly. Toaster sat and watched this, but really had no opinion about it- -until a mare stepped out behind them.

Toaster immediately gasped so hard that she hyperventilated and nearly passed out. When her vision came back, she coughed and stared at the most astounding mare she had ever seen. She was a unicorn, but not just any unicorn- -a WHITE unicorn, the rarest and most beautiful shade of their race. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, and her makeup was so subtle that it was almost imperceptible- -but amplified her perfect blue eyes immeasurably.

“I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said, smiling at the two stallions. Toaster almost cried out- -not only was she a white unicorn, but she had an ACCENT. She was like the shorter, fatter Fleur de Lis.

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours,” said one of the stallions. “After what you did for us, it’s the least we could do, Ms. Rarity.”

“Yeah,” said the other. “You certainly are the Element of Generosity!”

“Oh my,” said the white mare, putting her hoof over her mouth and blushing coyly. “You two are such gentlecolts. And certainly two of my very best customers.”

“Just make sure our wives don’t know,” said one of them, looking around suspiciously.

“Oh, darling, I wouldn’t DREAM of it,” said Rarity smiling. “You just go home, and I’ll send you the bill later.”

“Thanks again, Rarity,” they said. They started to walk off, but Rarity cleared her throat and they turned back to her.

“Oh, boys, I really don’t want to be a bother,” she batted her long eyelashes and crossed her front legs seductively. “And I hate to aske, but you two are just such big, strong stallions…” an overfilled trashcan floated out of the door, propelled by her magic. “This trash is just TOO heavy for me to lift alone,” she said, lifting the container effortlessly with magic. “If you two could just carry it out.”

“Not a problem!” said the first stallion, grabbing the can.

“No, I will!” said the other, grabbing the other side of the bin.

“Oh, thank you SO much,” said Rarity, smiling. She went back to her door. “I really must be going, though. I have another customer coming in half an hour, and I simply MUST get myself ready.”

She closed the door, and the two stallions proceeded to fight over who was going to take the bin to the curb. Toaster turned back to her pondering, wishing for just a moment that she could bring herself to be a lespony if only to hit that sexy white mare.

Then the thought hit her all at once. This time, Toaster did gasp so hard she passed out in the street. When she woke up after several minutes, the stallions were gone- -and she suddenly understood what Pinkie Pie had been talking about. That white unicorn, that Rarity- -SHE was the town whore!

“It all makes sense now!” cried Toaster, grabbing and shaking a nameless, generic pony.

She released the pony, who brushed himself off and walked away, and Toaster’s gladness on figuring out her rival collapsed into sadness. She was just a brown unicorn, the worst color, and she now had to compete against an all-white unicorn with an accent who was clearly rich enough to afford a HUGE house.

“I can’t compete with that,” she said to herself. “I just can’t…” Then she took a breath and steeled herself. “No. That’s no way to think.” She figured that this must have been what Fluttershy wanted her to figure out, that this “Rarity” was what was impacting her life. In this case, there was no failsafe. There was no room for failure. If Toaster could not make it in Ponyville, she had no fallback plan, nowhere to go.

In her desperation, she knew that there was only one option. She had to eliminate the competition.

After taking measurements for her second client of the day- -a rather svelte and unshapely girl by the name of Flitter who could just not stand still- -Rarity had a momentary break in her schedule. She took this opportunity to go out for some quick grocery shopping.

The rain had mostly slowed, but there was mud everywhere. Normally, Rarity would not have dreamed of going outside so soon after a storm, but she had recently created the most darling set of rain boots to keep her keenly polished hooves dry, and she had been wanting to test them out all week.

So, she quickly trotted through town, being careful to avoid puddles so as to avoid getting her beautiful new rain boots covered in mud. She knew that she only had a few hours to get some basic ingredients for her nightly salad before she spent the afternoon in production. She was quite busy, as always, because being best pony was most definitely no small task.

Rarity watched as a yellow-coated earth pony stepped into the puddle nearest to her and sank completely out of sight. Rarity paused, and then walked around that puddle, taking the yellow-coated pony’s place in line at one of the farm stands.

“Hello, Ms. Rarity,” said the proprietor.

“Oh, hello, Dil,” said Rarity. “Such horrid weather we’ve been having, don’t you agree?”

“I can’t complain. It’s good for the crops, as you can see.” He motioned toward his wares.

Rarity reached into the stacks of cucumbers and removed an especially long, warty one that was nearly as thick as her foreleg.

“Oh my,” she said, her eyes widening. “This certainly is a handsome specimen…”

“You sure do have an eye for quality, Ms. Rarity. With the size of that one, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of use out of it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” She passed the green fruit to Dil.

“I’ll have that wrapped up in a jiffy.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet.”

“Not as sweet as these pickles,” said Dil, producing a large jar of much more stout cucumbers. “Only five bits a jar.”

“As tempting as the offer is,” said Rarity, pushing the jar away, “fermented food is bad for my complexion.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Dil, finishing wrapping up the abnormally large cucumber and giving it back to Rarity, who paid for it with a hoof full of bits and a small gem.

“Keep the change,” she said.

“Wow, thanks! I’ll be sure to save the next big one for you!”

Rarity waved as she trotted off, putting the cucumber into her saddlebags. She would get to it later. She began to make her way back to the Carousel Boutique.

As she passed a particularly dark alley, however, she heard a voice call out to her.

“Psst,” said a voice. Rarity stopped and turned to see a brown hoof beckoning from the shadows. “Over here, Rarity.”

Rarity paused, wondering why somepony would be in such a dark, damp, smelly alley, and why any such pony would want to talk to her. Still, she knew that nopony in Ponyville would ever hurt her, and the pony clearly knew her name. So, hesitating only for a moment, Rarity stepped into the darkness.

“Oh my,” she said, stepping into a puddle of something unpleasant. She shuddered. “Hello? Is anypony in there?”

“Yes, me,” said a voice. “I’m in here.”

“Where?” In the dim light of the overcast sky, Rarity could not see clearly into the narrow space between the buildings.

“Just come in a little bit closer.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Rarity stepped took a few more steps into the dark, unpleasant crevice, holding her breath against the smell of garbage- -and something that smelled strongly like a grandma.

“How about now?”

“Yes,” said the voice. Rarity could tell that it was female, but could not see its source. “That should be close enough.”

Something moved quickly, and suddenly Rarity felt a jarring pain ripple through her entire body. Her breath left her, and she looked down to see brown hoof shoved into the center of her chest. She wanted to look up, to see who the hoof belonged to, to ask why anypony what she had done wrong, but instead she just let out a nearly inaudible squeak and doubled over in pain.

The second blow came as rapidly as the first. This one struck Rarity in the face, causing her vision to flash into bright yellow-white light and her thoughts to momentarily freeze. That blow knocked her back into a brick wall, and her saddlebags fell to the ground. All she could think of was how her cucumber was rolling away.

She managed to look up to see a stony-faced brown unicorn looming over her.

Rarity’s eyes widened when she saw the pony’s mane. “Green…hair…” she gasped.

The pony did not react. Instead, she picked Rarity up by the shoulders and slammed her repeatedly into the wall. Each blow caused Rarity to cry out in pain. She tried to summon her magic, but her special talent was for sewing, not for defending herself. She could not think of a spell to use.

After a few blowes, Rarity was dropped into the dirty muck of the alley and her perfect white coat was stained with garbage water and mud. She wheezed loudly as she waited for the horrible pain to leave her body, and then, finally, managed to look up at the pony standing over her.

“Why?” she asked.

“I’m not a violent pony,” said the brown mare. “But I can’t fail. Not here. Not now.”

“Fail? I don’t- -I don’t understand…”

“You filthy slut…there is only room for one of us in this town. You are my competition. The only way I can survive is to remove you.”

Rarity felt adrenaline rush through her body as she realized that she was dealing with a madpony. She reached out with her horn and picked up a nearby board, a scrap of a palate that had been left with the other trash. With all her strength, she tossed it at the brown mare’s head.

It struck, and the mare was knocked back. Rarity tried to stand, to run, but cried out from the pain. Something inside her chest was broken, badly. The pain was worse than anything she had ever felt.

The brown pony looked back at her. The blow to her head had done nothing; she had barely even reacted.

“How many stallions have crammed themselves into you, Rarity?” she asked. “Stallions that were rightfully mine. I am their new dumpster. Not you. You must go now.”

The tip of the brown mare’s unusually pointy brown horn ignited with a crimson light, and it produced what appeared to be threads of glowing energy. The threads extended and separated from her horn, and then began to move. They swarmed around her body, forming a vortex of streamers of red light.

The mare started walking forward, and Rarity cried out in terror when she saw what the streams of red light did to anything in her way. A trash can was ripped into glowing segments, torn apart as if by an invisible saw. Large, molten grooves were cut into the cobblestone floor.

“Please, stop!” cried Rarity.

“I can’t,” said the brown pony, tears running down her face. “I just can’t.”

“Somepony, please help me!” cried Rarity.

“Nopony can save you now,” said Toaster. “It is just you and- -”

Her words were cut short an orange blur struck her in the side, sending the tall but light-bodied brown mare flying through several trash cans and finally coming to a stop on a metal dumpster with a loud crack.

“Get away from her!” cried Applejack, now standing over Rarity.

“Applejack!”

“You motherbucker!” cried the familiar voice of another pony, appearing at the edge of the alley.

“Stay out of this,” said the brown pony, standing awkwardly from a blow that would have sent most ponies to a hospital. “This is a fight between two- -OOF!”

She was struck in the gut by Applejack. Rainbow Dash joined Applejack, containing Toaster in the back of the alley.

“Please- -” started Toaster before taking one large blow from Rainbow Dash to the face. “This is a fight between that crab-infested whore and me.”

“Crab infested?” said Rarity, tears welling in her eyes. “How could you say that?” She burst out into sobbing. Rainbow Dash moved quickly to comfort her, flapping her wings even though her flight feathers had been singed off just a few days earlier.

“How could you say that?” shouted Rainbow Dash.

“Because there is only room for one prostitute in this town!”

“Prostitute?” cried Applejack. “You take that back, or I swear to Celestia’s plot I will snap that stupid horn off your forehead.”

“Please don’t,” said Toaster, backing away in fear. “But, she is. I saw it!”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash both looked at Rarity. “You did?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Yeah! I saw two sweaty stallions coming out of her house, claiming to be her ‘customers’ and paying her for sex!”

“Wait, what?” cried Rarity. “You mean Barnboard and Hedgepodge? They are two of my best customers- -for DRESSES.”

“But…they’re dudes.”

“Not for them! For their wives! They order their wives new dresses every month as a surprise!”

“But- -they were so sweaty- -”

“Because they helped me move my furniture! I make dresses! I’m a fashion designer! And now look at me!” she felt her eye, which was rapidly swelling and darkening and looked down at the mud that covered her body. Then, once again, she broke out into sobbing and clutched Rainbow Dash.

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash. “This is awkward.”

“But- -but- -”

“Rainbow Dash,” said Applejack, “I’m about to do something none to friendly.”

“I think I’m gonna help you with that one,” said Rainbow Dash, setting Rarity down.

“No, stop!” cried Rarity. “Please! I just- -I can’t take this. Can you two…can you just help me back home?”

“Sure thing,” said Appejack, picking Rarity up and throwing her over her own back. “You just hold on, sugarcube.” She turned back to Toaster. “And you…you are a disgrace. If I ever see you in Ponyville again, I’ll…”

“Well, if I see you, I’ll mash you into rainbows,” said Rainbow Dash. “First you mess up my wings, and now this? You make me sick.”

“But…”

Rainbow Dash reached forward and punched Toaster in the gut. Toaster doubled over from the sudden pain and fell into a pile of trash. Her vision swirled as the others walked away.

“Is it bad?” asked Rarity. “Do I look okay?”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “It’s a real pretty…plum color…”

There was crying, followed by Applejack claiming. “It’s fine! It’s fine! Isn’t it, Rainbow Dash?”

Toaster lay in the wet garbage, slowly regaining her ability to breathe. Then, slowly, she stood up and limped her way back home.

That night in Lyra’s crawlspace, Toaster did not sleep. She tried, but every time found that there was just no way she could. Images kept flowing through her mind of what had happened, what she had done- -the terrible thing that she had almost done. What bothered her most is that it had all been a mistake- -her mistake. If what those two weirdly strong ponies said was true, then she had just beat up an innocent fashion designer.

Eventually, the weight on her heart got to be too much. She simply could not take it anymore, and she pulled her way across the dirt floor and out of the crawlspace. There was nothing she could do to fix what she had done; un-beating a pony was very, very difficult. The least she could do was try to apologize, though.

So she set out in the dark, drizzling night, lighting her way with the dim red glow of her horn as she galloped into town. As a mare of the night, Toaster was no stranger to darkness- -but something in the silence of this small town frightened her. It was late, far later than she had been out before. No ponies were out of doors, and even the streetlights had been shut off, leaving the entire town in shadowy darkness. Still, Toaster felt as though she was not alone. Through the trees, she could see large shadows moving silently through the forest and hear the humming of machinery.

She did not allow that to stop her. Even if there were things in the woods, and even if the town was dark and empty, she knew that she had to right the wrong that she had committed. Lost in thought, though, she quickly found herself lost in Ponyville.

Eventually, Toaster stopped on a small bridge. There was a narrow, lazy stream of water beneath it, and Toaster looked over at her moonlit reflection.

“Why am I so STUPID?” she said to her reflection. “What have I done? I really could have hurt her! I feel terrible. And a little hungry.”

Toaster realized that she really was a bad pony. Perhaps she had been her whole life. It occurred to her that she had never once actually helped anypony. She had only ever made their lives worse, and brought them more pain.

“What am I even doing?” she asked herself.

For a long time, she just looked down, expecting a response. Then the water seemed to shift. A shadowy figure appeared, and Toaster realized too late that it was a black-clad figure behind her.

Something heavy hit her in the back of the head, and Toaster immediately collapsed onto the bridge like a sack of potatos. The blow had not knocked her out entirely, but it had been substantial enough to leave her dazed. In her semiconscious state, she felt herself being dragged away by her rear legs. The world faded, and then in the distance she felt ropes being wrapped around her body and her rear ankles.

Then, just as she was beginning to fade back into consciousness, driven by a strange and inexplicable fear that she did not understand, she saw the world shift. Suddenly, the world was upside down.

As reality slowly returned to focus, Toaster realized that the world had not moved; rather, she had been strung up by her feet and was handing inverted from a tree. All around her stallions, all dressed in tight spandex clothing that covered their entire bodies, save for their eyes.

“What- -what’s going on?” squeaked Toaster, suddenly terribly frightened. “I don’t understand!”

They did not answer. Instead, they all produced sticks of various sizes. Toaster’s eyes widened, and then closed as they descended, beating her as she swung immobile from the tree.

“Please! Stop!” she cried, feeling the wooden blows striking every part of her body. Toaster was no stranger to pain, but it still hurt- -but not nearly as bad as the fear. She did not know why they were beating her and what they would do to her afterword, and she knew that she was defenseless and immobile with no way to escape.

One of them stopped her swinging while another slammed a large board into her chest, knocking the wind out of her so that she could not scream. The stallion lifted her head by the end of her nose, and Toaster smiled, hoping for mercy.

“This one’s for Rarity,” he said, and instead of helping Toaster slammed his hoof into Toaster’s face. Lights flashed through Toaster’s vision, and she momentarily felt like going to sleep even as the pain overwhelmed her. Still, the beating continued, the stallions driving their full force into her body with their wooden sticks, hooves, or whatever else they could gather.

“Hey,” said one of them to an unseen figure, the only one that was not taking turns wailing on Toaster. “You want a piece of this whore?”

“More than anything,” said a female voice. “Well, except maybe triple alamode quadruple frosted cake…oof…” there was a sound of liquid pouring out over the ground. “But having your tummy pumped sure does take a lot out of you. Literally. But you guys enjoy the party!”

“Party?” wheezed Toaster, spitting out several teeth.

“Of course!” said the unseen figure, the only female. She approached, and Toaster came face-to-face with a pair of large, blue eyes. “It wouldn’t be a party without a piñata! We’re gonna beat you until ALL your treats come out! Or, well, we’ll at least beat the tricks out of you!”

“Eew,” said one of the ponies, pulling his hoof back from Toaster and shaking it. “I think she peed!”

“Yeah, I hit her right in the pelvis,” said another. “Think I felt it fracture, too!”

“And I definitely got a few ribs.”

“She deserves it!”

“Yeah! For what she did to our Rarity!”

“Please,” gasped Toaster. “Please stop hurting me.”

“Why should we do that?” said the mare, grabbing Toaster by the horn and stopping her slow rotation. The beating mostly stopped, with a few stallions jabbing Toaster one last time.

“It…it hurts…”

“And you hurt us,” said the mare. “You came into our town like you owned it, bringing your disease and filth. Beating our friend! Let me spell it out for you…well, maybe not, I’m a bad speller, but anyway: we don’t want you. Nopony wants you. Nopony ever will. Whores like you are not welcome in Ponyville.”

“I was just…trying to…”

“Trying to what? Corrupt our morals? Ruin our happy life? You’re like a lump of baking soda in a perfectly good cake. I tried to make it subtle, but you didn’t take the hint. We all hate you, little piñata. You are ugly and disgusting. And I’m going to make sure that the rest of them see it too.”

“Snap off her horn!” cried one of the ponies.

“Yeah! Take her horn!”

Toaster’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she tried to struggle free. “No! Please! Not my horn! I’m not a unicorn without my horn!”

“No,” said the mare. “I’ve got a better idea.”

One of the stallions passed her an object, and Toaster heard the flick of a switch. Something started buzzing. “We’re going to make sure that no pony ever even thinks about trying to give your tushie a low-cost pushie!”

Toaster stared wide-eyed and frozen, not even able to scream, as the electric razor descended upon her.

Laughing, Scootaloo raced forward, her tiny and useless wings buzzing as she jumped, as though she might actually perform the impossible and finally fly.

“Come on, Applebloom!” she called back to her friend. “I’m barely even trying! You run like you have apples stuffed in your rump!”

“I can’t help it!” gasped Applebloom, running up beside Scootaloo. “Ever since I got my cutie mark, my plot just keeps getting bigger. Granny Smith says it’s because ahm getting’ my big-mare butt like Applejack, but…”

“Uh, no,” said Scootaloo, looking down at her own underage filly plot, which was still tiny and narrow, just like Rainbow Dash’s- -which was, of course, a plot that Scootaloo had spent a great deal of time studying. “I think it has more to do with all that apple pie you keep eating.”

“Ah just can’t help it,” said Applebloom. “It just tastes so good. Like…”

“Pie?”

“Yeah!”

“Anyway,” said Scootaloo. “I beat you!”

At that moment, Sweetie Belle appeared, walking quickly but not running, and Scootaloo greatly rejected her choice of words.

“Speaking of beatings,” she said, “how’s Rarity doing?”

“She’s been in the hospital all night,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Celestia’s horn up sweet Luna’s Plot!” gasped Applebloom. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Of course. Nothing’s really wrong with her, apart from a fractured rib and a black eye. She’s just a bit of a whiner. But still, if I get my hoofs on that darn filthy slut- -”

“Wait, are we still talking about Rarity?” asked Applebloom. Scootaloo momentarily prepared to stop a fight, but Sweetie Belle just sighed, clearly recognizing Applebloom’s legitimate confusion.

“I just don’t know how it could have happened,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, Toaster’s a great pony. She always shares her food with me, and in all our talks, she never seemed violent.”

“Wait, talks?” said Applebloom. “You mean you’be been hanging out with the town hooker?”

“Well, yeah. She’s my neighbor.”

“Neighbor?” said Sweetie Belle. She and Applebloom looked at each other. “Um, Scoots, where exactly do you live, anyway?”

“IN A HOUSE!” cried Scootaloo, suddenly profoundly defensive. “With my parents! Who definitely did not die of chikungunya!”

“Chicken what?”

“It means ‘that which bends up’ in Zebric,” said Sweetie Belle, walking past them.

“And how do you know that?”

Sweetie Belle was about to explain when something suddenly lodged in her throat. She turned around and coughed, and spat out a swatch of green fibers.

“Can’t hold your grass, Sweetie Belle?” suggested Applebloom.

“It’s not grass,” said Sweetie Belle, making a face. “It tastes like my grandma.”

“Let me see that,” said Scootaloo, taking the green fibers from Sweetie Belle. Her eyes widened when she recognized what they were. “This is hair.”

“Green hair?” said Sweetie Belle. “Disgusting!”

“There’s more of it,” said Applebloom, pointing to a trail of it that had been blown in the wind.

“Come on!” said Scootaloo, somewhat panicked.

They followed the trail of hair until they finally passed into the area near the Ponyvile stream. Scootaloo gasped when she saw the sight that was waiting for them. There, hanging from a tree by her ankles, was Toaster. She was tied up and limp, and a sign had been pinned to her. It read, in bold red letters, “HARLOT”.

Scootaloo also saw that she was not the first to find her like that. Even as she watched, ponies would walk by. Toaster would look up weakly, and the passerbies would just laugh and point before moving on their way.

“Toaster!” cried Scootaloo, running up to the dangling pony. There was a large mass of hair directly beneith Toaster, and Scootaloo gasped when she saw that most of Toaster’s mane and tail had been shaved off. “What happened?!”

“What?” said Toaster, weakly. Her blootshot eyes opened, and she seemed to recognize Scootaloo. “Oh…not much. Just hanging around. Contemplating my life choices.” Her voice rose as she seemed to suppress the urge to collapse into sobbing. “They’re all bad. All of them.”

“YOU!” cried Sweetie Belle, rushing forward and pushing Scootaloo out of the way. Before the other two could stop her, Sweetie Belle punched Toaster directly in the jaw. The force of getting hit by a small and relatively soft unicorn filly did not do much to Toaster, other than to cause her to swing slightly.

“Sweetie Belle, stop that!” cried Applebloom, leaping on her friend.

“Get off me! I’m gonna knock her teeth out for what she did to Rarity!”

“I think somepony beat you too it,” said Scootaloo, picking up a white object from the mess of severed hair that had collected below Toaster. As soon as Sweetie Belle saw that, she went pale and stopped resisting Applebloom.

“No, I deserve it,” said Toaster. “I’m a bad pony!” She sobbed slightly, and then seemed to pass out.

“We have to get her down!” cried Scootaloo. She jumped up, trying to help Toaster, but the knot that held her to the tree overhead was too high. Scootaloo pumped her tiny wings, but she was unable to get off the ground. She turned to her friends. “Come on! We have to help her!”

“After what she did to my sister?” spat Sweetie Belle.

“And, well, with what she did to mah brother and cousin Braeburn…maybe she does deserve it…”

“You- -you’re just going to leave her like this then?!”

Neither Applebloom nor Sweetie Belle could look Scootaloo in the eye.

“Fine!” said Scootaloo. She looked around, trying to find a larger pony to help her. There was nopony around at first, but then Scootaloo spied a large group of identical blue, gray eyed unicorns pulling an oversized cart filled with refrigerators and various equiptment.

Scootaloo ran to the nearest of them, the only one that was female.

“Please!” she cried. “You have to help me!”

The gray-eyed unicorn looked down with cold, dead eyes and Scootaloo stepped back. There was no expression on her face, aside from possible annoyance. She looked down for a long moment. “What do you want, filly pony?” she asked.

“My friend,” said Scootaloo, pointing. “We need to get her down!”

The blue pony stared. “Is that not a unicorn-pony? Cannot she use her magic to free herself?”

“No,” moaned Toaster in the distance.

“Her magic’s all jacked up,” said Scootaloo. “Please, if you could just cut her down!”

The mare looked down at Scootaloo again, and then after a long moment separated from her group and walked over to Toaster. She lifted one of her front hooves and set it against the rope that was holding Toaster’s ankles to the tree, and the piece of the rope that she touched was instantly overgrown with ice. The extreme cold weakened the fibers, and it suddenly snapped. Toaster cried out as she fell to the ground.

Scootaloo raced over to her and pulled apart the knots that bound Toaster.

“Eew, she smells like pee!” said Applebloom, holding her nose.

Eventually, Scootaloo got the ropes untied and then helped Toaster dislodge her horn from the ground.

Toaster groaned. “Ohhh…so this is how all my clients felt…how poor Rarity felt…”
“Come on,” she said, helping Toaster stand and supporting her as she walked. “We need to get you home.”

Toaster cried out as she was lifted, but she let Scootaloo lead her away.

“I’ll see you guys later,” said Scootaloo, somewhat darkly. She was angry at them, but she understood their sentiment. If Toaster had attacked Rainbow Dash more substantially than she already had, Scootaloo would probably have been angry too- -but of course, Toaster probably would have been reduced to cream of whore in a one-on-one fight with the Dash.

“Scootaloo,” said Toaster. “Do you think Leera knows how to relocate a shoulder?”

“Probably?” suggested Scootaloo.

In the dream, Toaster was soaring through the air. The upper atmosphere felt cold against her back and through her soft down, and her strong wings pumped and extended to slow her descend to the castle below. Her metal-clad hooves clicked against the expensive stone tile, and she pulled her glorious alicorn wings back against her body, smiling as she entered the landing area of her castle.

As she did, she suddenly felt herself slip.

“Oh noes!” she cried, falling backward.

Instead of hitting the floor, though, she was caught on a soft warm bed of light. She was momentarily confused, but then she saw a softly smiling bearded face appear over her.

“Solaris!” she cried, reaching up and hugging him. “You saved me!”

“Well,” he said, sounding oddly similar to Raunchy Riker, “I couldn’t let my newest consort come to any harm! I just don’t know what I would do if anypony ever hurt you!”

“Oh Solaris!” cried Toaster, prostrating herself below the alicorn stallion. She spread her legs. “Take me! I want it so bad! Make me earn that royal commission!”

Solaris smiled and leaned in, and Toaster braced to experience a part of pony anatomy that was most definitely larger on alicorns than on normal ponies by far. They two of them were interrupted, however, by the sound of a pony clearing his throat.

Both of them turned, and a tall blue stallion was standing at the edge of the room.

“Artemis!” cried Toaster.

Artemis, disgusted, adjusted his glasses. “I come here to start preparing for the moonrise, and THIS is what I find? My own brother abusing my most favorite of concubines?”

“Artemis,” said Solaris, his voice measured and caring. “You know that we promised to share her.”

“I’m tired of sharing her!” yelled Artemis.

“Artemis- -”

“I want us to have her at the same time!”

Solaris and Toaster’s eyes widened, and they looked at each other. “I don’t think I have enough internal volume for that,” said Toaster.

“I can dig it,” said another male voice. The three alicorns turned to see a tall, narrow bodied pink alicorn stallion entering the room with a small, boyish purple stallion at his side.

“Crescendo! Dusk Glow!” cried Toaster, surprised to see the Prince of Frienship and the Sex God himself.

Crescendo looked down at Toaster, a perverse grin spreading across his mouth. “I say we have ourselves a good ‘old fashioned royal orgy!”

Dusk Glow gasped. “But Crescendo! You’re married!”

“Well Shiny Armor can suck my horn.” He giggled. “And believe me, she DOES. Nightly. You’re just nervous because somepony here is still a virgin…”

Artemis turned to Solaris, his jaw dropping and his eyes wide. “You TOLD?” he cried.

“That’s okay,” said Solaris. “Here, my little student, and my brother. Crescendo and I can show you how it’s done.” He looked down at Toaster and smiled. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

“Yes, oh yes!” cried Toaster, tears of joy running down her cheeks. “Fill this princess with prince!”

“Oh, we will,” said Solaris, his soft, fatherly smile suddenly widening into a sadistic grin. “We’re going to beat you with our stallionhoods like our little harlot-piñata!”

“Piñata?” said Toaster, suddenly afraid. She did not know why that word made her so afraid.

“Oh yes,” said Crescendo, pinning her shoulders down. “We all hate you Toaster. And now we’re going to do terrible, terrible things to you!”

“No, wait!” cried Toaster, trying to squirm away. “Wait, stop!”

They did not stop. Instead, they surrounded her, all glaring down, swirling overhead, blocking out the light of the room. Then the pain started. They were bringing their hooves down again and again on Toaster’s body. She felt her beautiful alicorn body crushed under their blows as she was bruised and broken.

“It hurts! It hurts!” she cried.

“Snap off her horn!” cried Artemis.

“Break off her wings!” screamed Dusk Glow.

“Not a problem,” said Crescendo, taking Toaster’s horn in his teeth.

“Please, no,” cried Toaster. “Not my horn- -I’ll do anything, just don’t take my horn!”

“Why?” said Dusk Glow, laughing. “You can’t even use it anyway.” He nodded to his brother in law, and Toaster’s eyes widened. She watched as he snapped his head back, and felt the world flash with light and sound as she was unhorned.

Toaster shot awake so fast that she slammed her head into the floor of Lyra’s house, penetrating it with a small round hole from her horn. At first, she was confused, and then it all came back to her. The pain returned to her body, and she laid back down in the dirt of the crawlspace as she remembered just how terrible her life had become.

She rolled over, wincing from the pain in her shoulder. Lyra had not been at all gentle sliding it back into place, and it had swollen and frozen. Toaster’s whole body hurt, and her fractured ribs were just starting to heal. So, cloaked in pain, she curled up on the dirt floor and shivered in the cold as she cried.

A flash of lightning lit the storm outside, and Toaster’s eyes widened as she saw a figure on the border of her crawlspace.

“No!” she cried, immediately knowing that the blue-eyed mare had come back to finish the job she started. “No, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! No more pain! Please!”

A second, more distant lightningbolt flashed, and the figure was illuminated at a different angle. Now Toaster saw that it was just Scootaloo, her hair and body sopping wet from the storm.

“Can I come in?” she said, shivering.

“Yeah,” said Toaster. “Sure.”

Scootaloo stepped into the small space, crossing the dirt ground and the grotesque network of Lyra’s plumbing job. Eventually, she came to a rest in front of Toaster. Scootaloo shivered in the cold, and noticing this, Toaster lowered her horn. She ignited the tip, and a red glow filled the dark space, filing it with warmth.

“Thank you again,” said Toaster. “For saving me.”

“I just wish I could have got there sooner.”

“No! They would have beat you too! And you don’t deserve it like I do!”

“But you didn’t deserve it!”

“Yes, I did,” said Toaster, lowering her head to her forlegs and lying down completely. “I hurt an innocent pony…but it’s worse than that. I thought I was helping. I thought I could succeed in life, and I didn’t even see that I was nothing but a failure the whole time. That nopony…nopony ever loved me…” She started sniffling, and wiped her face. Although it was not its intended purpose, she assumed her professional face, suppressing the outward appearance of her internal pain. “But it’s okay. I know what I need to do now.” She paused. “Why are you here anyway, Scootaloo?”

“Because Muffins’s porch has those little slats between the boards, so when it rains…I get wet…”

“Have you talked to Muffins about it?”

“NO! I mean- -she can’t find out! Nopony can! They might tell Rainbow Dash!” Lightning struck again, and Scootaloo jumped, grabbing onto Toaster. She paused, and then sighed. “There’s something else, though,” she said. “And if you tell Rainbow Dash, I will put you right back up on that tree!”

“I don’t think Rainbow Dash would be willing to do much listening with me,” said Toaster. “More hitting, I would suspect.”

“Well…the thing is…seeing you up there like that…I can’t stop seeing it.”

“Why?”

“Because of what it means. I mean…how to explain…” she took a deep breath. “I mean, if ponies could do that to you, a full grown unicorn, what could they do to me?”

“But why would they want to hurt you? You’re so cute.”

“Don’t call me cute. But, I know…but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m…I’m afraid. I don’t have parents anymore. I can’t fly. I live under a friggin porch! And now ponies might just gang up on me and beat me, too?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” lied Toaster. “I’m sure you could fight them off. Or Rainbow Dash could help you. She hits with…great vigor.”

“I know. But…I don’t want to be alone right now. Which is why…” she reached under her wing and pulled out a bit. She held it out to Toaster.

Toaster looked at the coin, and then back at Scootaloo. “I don’t take mares. Or fillies. Or anypony anymore.”

“Please,” said Scootaloo. “I don’t mean sex. You don’t have to do anything like that. Just…just stay with me.”

Toaster looked down at Scootaloo and paused for a long minute. Then she reached out and gently took the bit. She rolled on her side and gestured for Scootaloo to come closer. Scootaloo silently obeyed, and pressed herself against Toaster’s underbelly, being careful of the bruises and broken bones.

Toaster put her forelegs around Scootaloo and dimmed her horn. Scootaloo’s shivering slowly abated and finally ceased, and from her regular breathing Toaster knew that she had gone to sleep. Toaster closed her eyes and held the filly close, and as she did, she could not help but wonder if Scootaloo had hired Toaster for her own benefit, or if it really had been for Toaster’s instead.

Chapter 13: The Ivory Tower

Twilight Sparkle trotted through the hall of her castle, humming to herself. She was not entirely sure what time it was, in part because the castle had surprisingly few non-opaque windows and because she had been awake for four days now. One of the key perks of being an alicorn was that she no longer technically needed to sleep, or even to eat. She still did, of course, to prevent herself from setting a precedent that resulted in unusually high expectations from those around her- -that, and because she would occasionally have a recurring dream involving human Flash Sentry putting a saddle over her tiny pony body and riding her quite thoroughly. She rather liked that dream.

The lack of a need to sleep was almost worth the other side effects of being an alicorn- -almost. The wings were terribly itchy sometimes, and they shed. Worse, almost as soon as she had grown them, all of Twilight’s coat had fallen out. It was not actually noticeable because her skin, like her body hair, was purple- -but she was actually smooth and bald, meaning that she got cold easily and left greasy stains on a lot of furniture.

This room, of course, did not have much furniture, apart from a large mirror on one side. Not a magic mirror- -this was just a regular one. It did not go anywhere in particular or do anything in particular. Just a regular, ordinary mirror.

Twilight approached the mirror, smiling, and then became more serious. She looked around the room and checked to make sure Spike was not around. This took several seconds, but when she had finally assured herself that nopony was watching, she charged her horn and directed an extra special spell on herself.

Her color pattern in the mirror changed. Her purple skin shifted to white, and her bicolor hair became loosely tricolor, in pastel. When the spell was finished, Twilight was looking in the mirror at a tiny version of Celestia.

“Oh, Princess!” said Twilight, turning herself around to get a good look at herself. “You look amazing today…your rump is just so…round and so…soft,” she ran her own hoof over her own rump. The spell had not changed her cutie mark- -that kind of spell was usually just a tiny bit cataclysmic- -but her star looked enough like a sun for her to suspend disbelief.

“Why thank you, Twilight,” she said, mimicking Celestia’s voice. “Yours does not look bad either. I just want to- -”

“Ouch!” cried Twilight, having pinched her own rump. “Oh, Celestia!”

“You certainly are my favorite student,” said Twilight as Celestia. “My very best, most special student ever. In fact, I would say I’m so close to you that you’re almost my special somepony.”

“Oh, Celestia,” said Twilight.

“No, it’s true. And because of that, I want to give you access to the most secret portions of my private library.”

“Oh, Princess! You mean to books that nopony but you has had access too since Starswirl the Bearded?!”

“Yes. I want you inside my books, to read them, to turn their ancient pages and learn all the ancient, forbidden knowledge within…and then I want to give you something ELSE that only Starswirl had access to.”

“What’s that, Princess?”

“I want you to have my alicorn foals, Twilight.”

At about that time Twilight noticed that Spike was standing behind her, watching.

Twilight screamed and covered herself with her hooves. Quickly realizing that that only made her look more guilty, she rapidly engaged the counterspell, turning her coat and hair back to their normal color. “Sp- -Spike!” she said. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“Oh, since about the time the ‘Princess’ complimented your…ahem…rump?”

“Oh my…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving it off. “I’ve caught you doing much, much worse.”

“No you haven’t!”

“Yes, I have. How about that time in magic school. You know. With the picture of Moondancer? In the leg warmers?”

Twilight changed color once again, this time to the approximate shade of a beet. “Let’s just agree never to speak of this again.”

“Do you really think I WANT to speak about you’re weird mare instincts?”

“I sure hope not,” said Twilight, trotting out of the room. “Because that would make you a pervert. And Rarity hates perverts.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you.”

Spike followed her down the hall back toward the room where he had been working. Twilight stepped through the doorway and found a large circular room with a carefully inscribed pentagram drawn onto the floor in charcoal and bone dust.

“Wow. Good job on the flanges,” she said.

“Yeah. You would not believe how hard it is to get charcoal to make the fancy tildes. But…um…what is this for again?”

“Spike,” chastised Twilight. “We’re summoning Satin, remember?”

“Oh yeah! Um…why?”

“To acquire ultimate knowledge, of course! Now…did you remember the sacrifice?”

“Sacrifice?”

Spike put his claw to his forehead. “Aw, I knew I forgot something!”

“No worries,” said Twilight. “This model only takes one chicken for startup. Now, where does Scootaloo live?”

They both looked at each other for a moment, realizing that neither one of them knew, when a voice came up through the crystalline halls outside.

“Twalight?” called Applejack’s voice.

“Oh, darn it! Forgot to lock the door again! UP HERE!”

There was a sound of hoofsteps on the tile outside, and eventually Applejack appeared in the doorway. “Twalight, I was wondering where- -” she looked at the floor. “Uh, Twalight, what is this?”

“A dimensional shift pentagram.”

“You tryin to make some kind ah unholy bargain or something?”

“No, of course not,” said Twilight, smiling. “I already did that! How do you think I got these- -argh! Hold on!” She turned and munched at one of her wings for several seconds. Down poured down all over Spike. Twilight eventually pulled out several purple feathers and spat them to Spike as well. “Here, put these in the quill pile. I am saving SO much money!”

“Yeah, right,” said Spike, holding the grape-scented shed feathers as far away from his face as possible as he walked over to one of the many piles where they were stored.

“I don’t think that bargin was unholy,” said Applejack.

“Of course it was,” said Twilight, still smiling. “I’m the Princess of Friendship, after all, AND immortal. So I have enough power to turn a city into dust, but I do have to watch all you guys die, one by one, until I go insane and live in a pyramid and wear a radiation suit all the time or something…”

“Well, um…that was dark. And oddly specific.”

“So,” said Twilight, carefully stepping over the lines of the pentagram. “Why did you break into my house today?”

“Have you not been paying attention?” said Applejack, somewhat angrily. “We have a bit of a crisis on our hooves, in case you haven’t noticed!”

“Oh, I haven’t. I don’t go outside much. Or interfere with Equestria’s problems if I can send somepony else to do it for me.”

“Wow,” said Applejack. “You really are turning into a princess.”

“That reminds me…SPIKE! Take a note: we need to install an ivory tower onto this castle! Pure ivory, too! Not that fake stuff!”

“Like, from elephants?”

“Eew, no! I mean from ivy!”

“Ivy ivory?”

“Less talkie more notie!”

“Fine, fine,” said Spike, grumbling as he took out a roll of paper and a violet quill, adding Twilight’s request to a long line of things that she would quickly forget about and he would not actually have to do.

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Rarity got beaten but the town…well, you know?”

“A well? Rarity got beaten by a well? How did she manage that one?”

“No, not the well! By a- -”

“By a rent-a-plot mare,” said Rainbow Dash, now entering room behind Applejack.

“By my own plot,” swore Twilight. “I mean, come on! At least knock! If you had walked in five minutes ago, you would have seen something REALLY embarrassing.”

“Um, what?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Because sometimes, I get a hoofull of jelly and think about the Wonderbolts while I- -”

“I do NOT want to know!” cried Applejack.

“- -make a sandwich. Celestia, Applejack, what did you think…ohhhh…”

“Is anypony else going to break into my house in the middle of the night?” asked Twilight.

“It’s like nine in the morning,” said Pinkie Pie, who was standing inches to the left of Twilight.

“Gah! Pinkie!” cried Twilight.

“Pinkie!” exclaimed Applejack. “I thought you were in the hospital!”

“I was. But the food was TERRIBLE. Both on the way in and out. So I left.”

“Anypony ELSE?” cried Twilight, now visibly rustled.

“And Fluttershy was behind me,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Wait!” called a soft voice from the hall, one clearly out of breath. They all waited for a long time, hearing the slow whoosh of wings Fluttershy came into the room very, very slowly.

As she landed, all the ponies looked at her at once.

“Um, Fluttershy,” said Applejack. “Now, I don’t mean to criticize…but…”

“What the HAY are you wearing?” said Rainbow Dash.

Fluttershy looked down at the tight-fitting latex blouse, fishnet stockings, and boots she was wearing. “Oh. Toaster left them at my house, and I figured it would fit so…” she looked down at the pentagram on the floor, and then up at Twilight. “Why are you trying to call my mom, Twilight?” she said, coldly.

“That’s exactly what I came up here to talk to you about!” said Applejack.

“And I came because Applejack came!” said Rainbow Dash. Then, smiling mischievously. “Apparently, with the help of a hoofful of jelly…”

“I always use frosting,” said Pinkie Pie. “Or, if I’m feeling really special, I make my Pie alamode.”

Fluttershy’s wings visibly extended, and Applejack tried to regain control over the situation.

“What I was saying was that that darn dirty…mare of the night…beat Rarity like a drum yesterday!”

“Oh,” said Twilight. “That’s terrible!”

“You’re darn tootin! Just walked up to our friend and started beating her!”

“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “For no reason at all! So we kicked the snot out of her!”

“Wait, what?” said Fluttershy, suddenly wide-eyed. “You mean you hurt Toaster?”

“Uh, yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “She was trying to murdalize Rarity!”

“Did you at least TRY to talk to her?” asked Fluttershy. “She’s not that kind of pony- -she was probably just scared! She’s going through a lot of stuff right now!”

“And how would you know that?” demanded Applejack.

“Because I…hmm nfmf n,” she trailed off into a mumble.

“What was that?” asked Twilight.

“I…fnf fflf f…”

“What?” asked Pinkie Pie.

“I paid her to give me a tongue job!” screamed Fluttershy. Every pony suddenly fell silent.

“See,” said Pinkie Pie after several minutes. “The theft of waifus! That harlot seduced our innocent, virginal Fluttershy!”

“I didn’t say I was a virgin,” said Fluttershy. “And we didn’t actually do anything! I just talked to her. She seemed nice. Are you sure it was her who hurt Rarity? I just can’t see her doing it…”

“Oh, she did,” said Applejack. “Almost offed our friend!”

“I find that weird,” said Twilight.

“Why?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Well, I haven’t really been paying attention to what happens in Ponyville- -because I don’t care- -but why would a prostitute have magic any more powerful than a fashion designer? I mean, Rarity is basically a marshmallow, but it still should have been a pretty even fight.”

“That is kind of weird,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” said Applejack, harshly.

“Now wait a minute,” said Pinkie Pie, stepping forward. “Not one of you needs to worry.”

“Uh, yeah we do,” said Rainbow Dash. “What if that crazymare attacks somepony else, and I’m not there to give her the old Dashie smackdown?”

“It won’t be a problem,” said Pinkie. “From what I’ve heard, a heroic band of ponies got together and gave that harlot her just desserts.”

“Desserts?” said Rainbow Dash. “So she beats Rarity and gets dessert? If I knew you could do that, I would have smacked her around a little bit myself a LONG time ago!”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” said Fluttershy.

“It means that we- -they. They. Got together and beat the harlot out of that dirty, disease-ridden mare. Even hit her a few times with the ol’ ugly stick. She won’t be bothering us anymore.”

“You mean somepony beat her?” said Applejack, looking disgusting.

Pinkie Pie was surprised by Applejack’s reaction. “Yeah. You know, with sticks. Left her hanging upside down from a tree in the center of town.”

“That’s actually what I came to tell you,” said Fluttershy. “I didn’t know somepony did that to poor Toaster, but that must be what set off the panic in town.”

“Panic?”

“Oh yes. Everypony is suddenly afraid that there is some sort of violent serial-beater out there, lurking in dark alleys, just waiting to get them next. There wasn’t even school today, because so many parents were afraid to let their little fillies and colts go outside!”

“That’s not…”

“It’s DISGUSTING!” said Applejack.

“But I thought you liked vigilante justice- -”

“Why? Because of my accent? No! I believe in rule of law- -I was going to ask that she be arrested and thrown in jail, but the- -just the idea of stringing up a pony by her feet and a whole group taking turns on her, it’s just- -”

“Horrible,” said Fluttershy.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “That even makes me a little sick. I mean, it’s just not a fair fight. And who knows…maybe Rarity said something to set her off?”

“Rarity can do that to a pony.”

“But the harlot!” cried Pinkie Pie. “You all know she deserved it! Revenge for all the stallions’ souls she ruined!”

“Toaster’s a virgin,” said Fluttershy.

They all looked at her. “How do you know?” asked Twilight.

“Because I can smell the difference.”

“It’s true,” said Rainbow Dash. “You should have seen back when we were teenagers. It was really weird and really, really funny.”

“But- -that doesn’t make any sense!” cried Pinkie Pie. “How can she be- -if she’s- -oh, my head- -”

Pinkie Pie collapsed to the floor, and Twilight swooped in to catch her.

“Pinke! Don’t die in the pentagram! It’s not rated for that!”

“Are you okay?” said Fluttershy, rushing to Pinkie’s side.

“Yeah,” coughed Pinkie. “I did just take like, eight times the LD50 of concentrated blue yesterday…”

“And I can’t help but think that that Toaster had something to do with that too!” said Applejack. “Twalight, we really need to do something about her! Beating is crossing a line, but she’s messin up the whole town!”

“Because she’s a harlot,” said Pinkie Pie, “but…how can she be a harlot if…but she has to be…”

“Pinkie, you’re gonna blow a fuse or something,” said Rainbow Dash. “I think all that cake is giving you hypertension or something.”

“I need to go,” said Pinkie. She pushed past Twilight and out the door.

The others watched her go, and then turned back to Twilight.

“Well?” said Applejack, turning back to Twilight. “What do you think we should do about our little problem?”

Twilight paused for a moment, considering. “Hmm…I don’t know if this is something we should really intervene in.”

“She beat Rarity!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“In unicorn culture, I believe that would be called a ‘wizard battle’,” noted Twilight, aware that wizard battles were usually between to actual wizards instead of between to ponies with only a mundane grasp of magic’s capacity. “But it’s their problem. I mean, hopefully they can work it out.”

“And if she tries to hurt Rarity again?”

“Then we throw her in jail. If he have a jail. Spike, did you dig the dungeon yet?”

“No,” said Spike.

“Get on that. And don’t forget the rack!”

“I think Fluttershy can help you with that,” suggested Rainbow Dash. “She already has quite a rack herself!”

Fluttershy reddened.

“A big problem, though, is that we, uh…how to put this…kind of don’t have any guards.”

“That’s weird,” said Applejack. “I mean, you would think this place would be crawling with them.”

“I wrote out a recommendation list and put it on your desk!” said Rainbow Dash.

“No, you left it on the stove,” said Twilight. “I’m lucky this place is made out of largely inflammable crystal. But I did read the ashes. Every name on there was a griffon.”

“I like griffons,” said Rainbow Dash, shrugging.

“What about that Flash Sentry?” asked Fluttershy. “He seemed nice.”

“Yeah, I considered him. Except when I did, I got so many complaint letters that bringing them in nearly killed Derpy.”

“So you just want us to wait around and wait ‘till she strikes again?”

“No. Rarity’s our friend. So we watch out for her. Spike already does that, actually.”

“And I’m going to try to find Toaster,” said Fluttershy. “I don’t think it’s fair if we don’t at least try to ask her what happened.”

“I guess I’ll look for the ponies that beat her up,” said Rainbow Dash. “You know, before they beat up another pony. Just as soon as I finish my morning nap…and my afternoon nap…and my evening nap…and my nighttime nap.”

“Don’t you just mean your regular sleep?” asked Applejack.

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “You sure don’t know how naps work, do you, AJ?”

“And I’ll stay up here and not be helpful,” said Twilight.

“Yeah, I figured that much,” sighed Applejack.

Chapter 14: Sad Toast

The day had mostly cleared as Toaster limped her way into town. Most of the ponies had gone inside and hidden, clearing the damp streets, and Toaster was largely left alone. It was better that way, though. Lyra and Scootaloo had done their best to try to fix Toaster’s hair, but there had only been so much they could do. Mostly, they had evened out the back, which was now shaved almost down to the skin. Enough mane was left over for some front bangs, a bit like Scootaloo’s, but much of Toaster’s head was covered in little more than green fuzz. Her tail had fared almost as badly; it had been shaved down so short that it was nearly a naked nub. It could no longer be combed to be fluffy and cute.

This modification made Toaster extremely self-conscious. Mostly, it was because without hair on her head, the old surgical scars and tattooed runes that she had been hiding were now far more visible. Logically, she knew that there was no reason to be concerned- -every pony had surgical scars and runes, she knew; getting them was just part of being an ordinary filly. She had always assumed that was the reason why ponies bothered to grow manes. Without her mane, Toaster felt naked and exposed, and jealous of all the non-ugly ponies that were around her.

Walking was painful. Toaster’s body was still riddled with fractures, but her ugly color did have one advantage: it completely hid the bruising that covered most of her body. Even her face had largely healed, save for a spot inside her mouth where she was now missing several molars.

On this day, Toaster was not wearing any clothing. She no longer had a need to. Instead, she was wearing a set of old saddlebags that Lyra had allowed her to borrow. Toaster missed her clothing, and she missed looking pretty, but she knew that a failure did not deserve to look attractive. That, and on a deeper level, she now saw that she never had been. She had just been lying to herself, afraid to believe the truth.

Eventually, she came to a shop that was located behind a larger building. Its front windows were made of thick, amber glass, and a sign hung over it that read “Lacy Leather’s”.

Toaster stepped down several stone steps to the door, and pushed it open. A small bell chimed as she entered, and Toaster was immediately greeted with a smell of fresh fabric and assorted perfumes.

The images that were only partially visible through the amber glass came into focus in the dim light of the shop. All around her were mannequins, all set into various positions and poses. All of them were dressed in various styles and colors of lingerie. There were corsets, nighties, garters, chokers, boots, short skirts, panties, and several more severe latex outfits against the back wall- -and the largest number of socks Toaster had ever seen. Deep within herself, Toaster felt a surge of excitement. She had a great deal of experience with this sort of clothing, and knew quality and brilliance when she saw it. These were miles ahead of anything she had ever been issued, and lightyears ahead of anything she would ever be able to afford. That excitement died quickly when she remembered what she had come to do.

“Can I help you find anything?” said a voice beside Toaster. Toaster turned, and looked down to see and earth pony standing beside her. The earth pony was slightly shorter than normal, with a stocky build. Her coat was a kind of sandy, roan brown-gray, with her mane being a pale yellow. She was dressed in a tightly fitting white sleeveless shirt and a set of elegant, white socks. The entire ensemble looked like something off one of the mannequins.

“Hmm,” she said, “you look like a corsets girl, I think…maybe some boots…”

“Actually,” said Toaster, “I’m not here to buy anything. I was actually hoping…hoping to sell.”

“Sell?” said the mare, one eyebrow raised. “Sure. I can buy. But it depends on what you have.”

The mare led Toaster over to a counter, and Toaster removed her saddlebags and placed them on the counter. The proprietor of the store flipped open the latch and began to look through.

“My name is Lacy Leather, by the way,” she said, pulling out a plaid skirt and examining it closely.

“What’s leather?” asked Toaster. She had never heard the word before.

“About nine hundred bits a yard,” said Lacy, removing a fishnet bodysuit from the bag along with a set of assorted pony socks.

“I’m Toaster,” said Toaster.

“I can see that,” said Lacy.

“How?”

Lacy pointed. “Your butt. It has a toaster on it.”

“You were looking at my butt?”

“I look at everypony’s butt. It’s part of my job.” She set several blouses, miniskirts, and an extremely short dress to one side, and then removed a large dog collar complete with a leash. “Yours, honestly, is surprisingly good for a unicorn. I’m surprised you have so many skirts. In my opinion, you should really stay as open in the back as you can and work that.”

“Thanks,” said Toaster, knowing that she would not actually need that advice ever again.

“Oh my,” said Lacy, her eyes widening as she pulled a pair of crotches panties from the bag. She looked at them, and then around them. “Um, Ms. Toaster?”

“What?”

“I just have to ask. Why do you have this much lingerie? I mean, every mare has one or two pieces…but this is a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I love this stuff, but it’s just…well, weird.”

“I’m a…” Toaster paused. “No. I used to be a prostitute.”

Lacy’s eyes widened, and she set down the panties. “Get out!”

“Okay,” said Toaster, lowering her head and turning toward the door.”

“Not literally! I mean, I just…” she trotted around the desk to get a better look at Toaster. “I mean, a real prostitute. In my shop!” She released a squeal of excitement. “This has never happened before!”

“Why are you so happy?”

“Well, it’s just that…oh, how to explain this…” Lacy walked around the room a bit, and then turned back to Toaster excitedly. “I make and sell lingerie,” she said. “As you probably can see. My job is to make mares- -and sometimes stallions- -sexy and confident. But Ponyville is a small town. When I make something,” she looked up at a stockinged mannequin, “it’s meant for two ponies that know each other, love each other. Usually, they’re married. So I’m just framing an intimate connection that already exists. You know?”

“No.”

“But with you…with a prostitute…it’s different. There’s no framing. There is just impact. A mare, a stranger, dressed up in a way that coveys physical attraction like a hammer to the nards- -you a living image of sexy, the embodiment of what a stallion- -or mare, if you care- -finds physically attractive. Living, breathing art appealing to the most natural, powerful of pony instincts…”

Toaster wiped a tear from her eye. What Lacy was saying was beautiful, but at the same time, with Toaster’s situation, so sad.

“Maybe I was like that, once,” said Toaster. “But not anymore.”

“Oh. Got yourself into a long-term contract, did you?”

Toaster’s eyes widened in surprise that this businessmare knew what that even meant. “No,” she said. “No…I’m just…not good enough…”

“I’m not surprised,” said Lacy. “These Ponyville types have always been prudes, but, trust me, not NEARLY as bad as the rock farmers. If you had tried to set up shop out with them, they’d probably have stoned you to death by now.”

“Good to know. But I won’t be moving anymore.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

Toaster closed her eyes, because she did not know- -and yet she did know that there was only one end for a failed prostitute.

When she opened them, she jumped back, realizing that Lacy Leather had appeared inches from her face, her large pale-pink eyes staring intently. Toaster suddenly realized that she had not yet seen Lacy blink.

“Do you use a lot of eyedrops?” she suggested.

“No,” said Lacy. “Sorry.” She turned away, and then turned back. “I just can’t stop staring at you.”

“Why?” said Toaster, running her hoof through her hair, knowing that it was because she was, in physically appearance and social standing, little more than a turd. “It’s the hair, right?”

“In part, yes. That’s a pretty severe style, but bold. Deviating from the norms of attraction and through irony and exoticism creating seduction. But no. It’s just your color, mostly.”

“I know,” sighed Toaster. “I look like burnt toast. And nopony likes burnt toast…”

Lacy Leather just kept staring. Then, she immediately moved across the room. That frightened Toaster slightly, because she was oddly fast. “Yes,” said Lacy to herself. “It would have to be black…” She pulled a translucent blouse out of a drawer, and then threw it aside. “No…opaque.”

“Um…are you going to buy the last of my worldly possessions now or not?” asked Toaster.

“In a minute,” said Lacy, moving across the room rapidly, comparing to shades of socks so similar that Toaster could not tell the difference in color. “Yes, this one.”

Lacy crossed the room again, and this time started pushing Toaster with her head toward the changing room.

“Where are we going?” asked Toaster.

“My workstation. You’re too tall, so I need to hem everything out…especially for that rump of yours…”

The next several hours were spent in the back of Lacy Leather’s shop as Lacy moved about, digging out various pieces of fabric and material and putting them on Toaster. She admired some, complained about others, and kept changing them, trying on different outfits and combinations in front of the mirrors. Toaster was not entirely sure what was going on, but she had nowhere better to go. That, and she actually had a chance to wear high-end lingerie. It was like silk against her skin, even when it was not actually silk. When she moved- -when Lacy let her- -the fabric did not bunch or inhibit Toater’s motion in any way. For the first time, Toaster was wearing clothing that could actually keep up with her body’s natural flexibility.

Lacy seemed to be creating furiously, and Toaster was actually surprised at how good she was with her hooves. Toaster herself had grown up in a society of unicorns, where ponies were actually clumsy and not at all dexterous with their legs. This had always left her a bit ashamed, what with not being able to use her magic to do anything except ignite things. Lacy Leather, though, was able to do things that Toaster did not even think were possible.

Eventually, she found herself dressed in a tight black corset with rear boots and front part-socks in front of several mirrors as Lacy looked on.

“I like the black,” said Lacy. “It fits well with the brown, but…it’s too dark…”

“Yeah,” said Toaster, knowingly. “Nothing goes with chocolate brown.”

“It needs accents,” said Lacy, pondering for a moment. “Yes!” she said, suddenly. “Orange! It needs orange!”

“ORANGE?” cried Toaster. “You have to be kidding! The only thing that goes with my color is dark lavender or blue.”

“No. That’s a bad combination. Trust me on this, you need earth oranges on the black.”

“That’ll just look weird!”

“No, not with your green hair.”

“If you say so…”

“I do say so.”

“Trust me, you’ll knock the stallions dead.”

“That’s actually something I generally try to avoid.” Toaster sighed. “But there’s no way I can afford this. I don’t have any money.”

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” said Lacy, pausing for the first time since she started.

“No, I don’t do mares,” said Toaster. “I tried. I almost threw up. Which would have been really, REALLY awkward.”

“What? No. Not that. You’re not my type anyway. Even if you do have that sweet, juicy moneymaker.” Lacy squeezed Toaster’s exposed rump. “But you are a perfect fit for my new line. I have a show coming up, and I was wondering if you could model for me.”

“I don’t think so,” said Toaster. “I don’t know how to model.”

“Please!” begged Lacy. “I’m not exactly a pony pony, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s been so hard to get models! The only professional we have in town is Fluttershy, but she’s too shy for a lingerie show. Right now I’ve just got the…ahem… ‘great and powerful’ Trixie, a Pegasus named Flitter, some blue chick and Octavia Melody…which was actually a condition of getting Vinyl Scratch to DJ the thing, which was weird. Then again, there’s not much about that freakish mute albino that isn’t weird.”

“They all sound so pretty.”

“But none of them are showstoppers! I need a finally, an impact! What better way than with a real, live prostitute? I’ve seen the way you move. You’ve had some training.”

“I have,” said Toaster. It was the only thing she actually had.

“Can you dance?”

“Can I dance,” said Toaster, unable to suppress a chuckle. “Yes, I can.”

“Do you think you could put together a routine?”

“Let me think…” Toaster paused. She closed her eyes, and then opened them. “Done.”

“Done?”

“Yes. I created a routine.”

“But you don’t know the venue! Or the music!”

“I factored in over three hundred different shapes of stage, two hundred varieties of lighting, and all common forms of large-space music including dubstep, polka, symphonic power metal, and that stuff that comes out of elevators.”

“Wow. You’re good. But does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t know. My special talent isn’t exactly for dancing.”

“And I don’t have a special talent for eating hayburgers, but that doesn’t stop me.”

“They make burgers out of hay?” Toaster’s stomach rumbled loudly.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Lacy. “I will buy you all the hayburgers you want, in addition to your pay if you help me out on this. Heck, I’ll blow you too if you want me to.”

“I think we already covered that.”

“You just have to dance. Who knows, you might impress sompeony in the crowd.”

“There are some ponies I would like to impress…”

“So are you in?”

Toaster paused for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll give it a shot, I guess.”

Lacy squeed in delight and hugged Toaster. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!”

“Hugs make everything better,” said Toaster, hugging back. Then the two released each other. “There will be some things I need, though…”

Something heavy impacted the door, and Lyra sat up sharply. Instinctively, her horn ignited and her orange magic poured into the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out an automatic rifle and clicking the magazine into it. She leveled it at the door as a brown pony burst through.

“Toaster!” cried Lyra, lowering the weapon. “I almost shot you! Get out of my room!”

“Leera, Leera, I got a job!” cried Toaster excitedly. She was literally bouncing from excitement.

“Good for you. Now maybe you can pay the rent. Who’s the John? Or do I even want to know?”

“No one!” said Toaster. “I got a job as a model! I’m so excited I could pee!”

“NO!” cried Lyra. “NOT HERE!”

“Too late!”

Lyra shuddered. “And you came up all the way up here to tell me this? It’s, like, nine at night!”

“I knocked,” said Toaster, pulling the door back to show where her forehead had made an impression in Lyra’s bedroom door. “But I need you help!” She reached into her saddlebag and a large scrap of metal with a diagram etched deeply into its surface. “Can you make this?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t look at it- -”

“I can make anything! Leave the paper and get out!”

“Oh, thank you Leera! You really are my bestest friend in the whole wide world!” Toaster set the diagram down with a clang, and then lifted her leg. “I’ll leave a mop outside, too,” she said. “Sorry about that. Also, your refrigerator is empty again.”

“JUST GO!”

“Okay!” said Toaster, smiling. “I’ll let you get back to sleep! I have a lot of work to do!”

Toaster slammed the door, and Lyra exhaled.

“Get a roommate, they said. It’ll help with funding, they said. Idiots.”

The sheets over Lyra’s lower body moved, and Bon Bon poked her head out. She wiped her lips with her hoof and looked up at Lyra. “Is she gone?”

“Yeah,” said Lyra.

“So, want to trade places now?”

Lyra smiled. “Yeah. There’s something new I’d like to try.”

Bon Bon looked concerned, and Lyra lifted her hoof from beneath the covers. On it was the H.A.N.D, with two of the fingers extended.

“Lyra, I don’t know how I feel about this…”

“Trust me, this thing has a grip that crush concrete. And not that diamond dog crap, either. The good stuff. You’re gonna like this. Trust me, I’ve already tested this model…and tested it QUITE thoroughly.”

About ten minutes later, as Toaster contemplated where the compressor and coils of Lyra’s refrigerator had gone- -desperately hoping that she had not inadvertently eaten them- -Toaster heard a loud cry from above.

“OOOHHHH LYRA! My concrete! MY CONCREEEEEETE!”

“Well, that’s a bit weird,” said Toaster. “Nopony ever gives me concrete.”

As she returned to contemplating the refrigerator and wondering what exactly she was doing, she heard the door slam. Toaster turned, expecting to see Scootaloo, or perhaps an angry mob coming to piñata her again- -but instead found herself looking into the golden eyes of a gray Pegasus.

“Toaster?” said the pony, her voice indicating that she was the female one. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I’m not in your house. This is Lyra’s house.”

“Oh, not again! That keeps happening!”

“There’s only, like two houses in this area.”

Muffin’s eyelids dropped slightly. “I once spent almost a week in one of Lyra’s sheds.”

“Which one? The one with hay, or the one that makes your mouth taste like metal?”

Muffins derped for a moment. “Actually, I have no idea. Oh well. I guess I’d better try to go to the right house this time. Bread is probably worried sick.”

“I think your relationship with your brother is weird.”

Muffins shrugged. “Different strokes for different folks.”

“Yeah, it’s those strokes I’m worried about.”

“It wasn’t a stroke. I was born this way.” She started to fly off, but then paused. “Oh yeah! Now I remember! There was a reason I came in here!”

“What was it?”

“I don’t remember. But I wanted to ask you if you were okay.” She became more serious and dropped back to the floor. “I heard what happened to you.”

“Yeah,” said Toaster. “I’m okay. But it was pretty bad. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought they were going to kill me. I should have listened to your warning…”

“No, not even I thought she would stoop that low. But I’m glad you’re okay. I’d hate to lose a friend, and so would Bread. Although…I can’t shake the feeling that I’m next…”

“No way!” cried Toaster. “Nopony would hurt you! You’re so darn cute!”

Muffins smiled, but shook her head. “It’s just an inkling.”

“I inkled on Leera’s floor a minute ago. I should really get a mop.”

“She’s a little busy right now. You don’t want to disturb her. I opened the door once while she was ‘busy’, and the image got scarred into my brain. Well, half of it. The other half is the image of her desk lamp burned into my memory because, you know, the amblyopia.”

“What, was she welding or something.”

“Heh,” said Muffins. She just shook her head, and then looked back at Toaster. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And if you need anything, let me know. And…don’t…um…is your hoof supposed to be in that toaster?”

Toaster looked down at her crotch, and then at one of her hooves. She had, indeed, stuck it into Lyra’s toaster.

“Oh, that’s normal,” said Toaster. “Sweet Celestia, I thought for a moment I was masturbating in public again.”

“I got my horn stuck in a toaster once, back when I was an alicorn.”

“You don’t have a horn!”

“Not anymore, no.”

Toaster paused for a moment, feeling her mind turning. “Wait a minute…are you joking?”

“I’ll let you decide that one.”

Muffins turned to leave, but Toaster suddenly remembered something.

“Oh! Ms. Muffins!”

“Muffins?” said Muffins, poking her head back around the corner. “Where? Did you say there were muffins? Or did you say I have a muffin top? Because that joke gets REAL old…”

“No,” said Toaster, shaking her hoof free of Lyra’s toaster because that gag was through. “I got a job in Lacy Leather’s fashion show! I’d be really happy if you could come!”

“Lacy Leather? I know her! I just love her products! So does Bread!”

“They are good products,” said Toaster. “REAL good products. Also, eew.”

“Hey, is she looking for volunteers for models?”

“I think she is. Actually, I think you’d be pretty good in it. Some nice white socks, brown skirt…like a sexy mailmare kind of thing…”

“Oh no, not me! Nopony wants to see a mother of two derping across a stage! But Bread loves that kind of thing!”

“Bread?”

“Yeah! Lacy is always trying to expand her male line, but a lot of stallions just don’t feel secure parading arouond in…”

“Banana hammocks?”

“Oh, in Bread’s case, it’s more like a Forlegenian cucumber. And there is a LOT a stallion can wear apart from the hammock. I know that from a LOT of experience.”

“Well, those two daughters of yours didn’t grow up from the ground. I hope. But sure, Bread can try out, I guess. Will you be at the show?”

“If I can find it, yes! Of course!”

“Great!”

“Now…if you could just remind me, um…”

“What time it is?”

“No. Where Lyra keeps her door…”

Chapter 15: Dancy Dancy Sexy Time

The days passed quickly, and finally the day of the show came. Toaster found herself back stage at the Ponyville town auditorium. Music pounded from the other side of the curtains and ponies moved about quickly. Most were workers who had been hired for this kind of production, but several others were models. Among them all was Lacy Leather, who had been darting around during the early performance but now was doing the final checks on Toaster’s outfit.

“You were right about the orange,” said Toaster, who was adding the final touches to her makeup. She looked in the mirror and almost did not recognize the pony she saw. For the first time, she was not just an ugly pony in pretty clothes but a passable pony in very, very sexy clothing.

“Of course I was right,” said Lacy, adjusting the last strap on Toaster’s corset. She herself was wearing a more ornate version of the clothing that she had been wearing in her shop before. “Is that too tight?”

“No,” said Toaster, standing up and grabbing a kimono from a hanger. Geisha training has come easily for her, but had never really been her thing. The kimonos, though, those she liked. It would also be perfect for her act. “It feels like I’m wearing nothing at all.” Toaster laughed at her own quasi-joke nervously.

“Nervous?” said Lacy.

“Yeah,” said Toaster. “I don’t…I don’t know why…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said a Bittish voice as Octavia passed Toaster. She was dressed decked out completely in pale-pink in an eloquent but highly revealing parody of formal clothing, complete with an oversized bow on the side of her neck. She had just finished her routine and dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief. “It’s completely natural, part of the thrill of the performance. I still get it every time I take the stage, whether I have a bow in hand or…” she sighed and gestured down at herself. “This.”

“You look great,” said Toaster, finding herself jealous of Octavia’s more subdued colors.

“I do. But this is not my cup of tea, so to speak. Vinyl owes me. She owes me a LOT. However, I do hope your performance goes well. Break a leg!”

“Not my own, probably,” muttered Toaster.

“Oh, come on!” said Lacy. “You made this performance happen! Not only did you volunteer yourself, but you managed to pull in Bon Bon and that sexy gray studmuffin! I mean, listen to that! Do you hear it?”

“Dubstep wubs?”

“No! Cheering! Nopony’s ever cheered at one of these things! He’s out there right now, hamming it up! Then it’s Trixie- -”

“The ‘great and powerful’!” yelled Trixie from the other side of the staging area, where she was finishing her own makeup. “Then it’s your turn, and trust me, in this…well, let’s just say I hope the janitor’s got a mop at the ready, because he’s gonna need it!”

“If I don’t fail and burn everypony to death,” said Toaster, shaking. She looked down at Lacy, who was oddly calm. “What if I mess up? What if they hate me? What if they swarm the stage, pull me off, and beat me again?”

“Again?”

“Again!”

“It won’t happen! I saw you in rehearsal and trust me, you almost switched me back to ponies. This will work.”

“I hope so.” Toaster looked around nervously. She peaked around the edge of the curtain, and saw the crowd cheering as Bread marched down the catwalk, his gray plot showing strongly against the dark brown of his chaps. He had a deadpan expression on his face, but Toaster knew that he was enjoying himself as he spun and flexed as the mares in the crowd- -and several stallions- -cheered. Toaster found herself strangely aroused as well. “I just hope Lyra gets here in time…”

“I’m always on time,” said Lyra, causing Toaster to jump and squeak. She turned around to see the teal pony behind her.

“Barely,” said Toaster, watching as Bread came back in and Trixie took her place on deck, her tight blue sparkly garments and horn ring glimmering in the light as she prepared herself to perform.

“Yeah, well,” said Lyra, wiping her mouth. “Bon Bon had some trouble getting her panties off, so I had to help her.”

“Sure,” said Lacy, playfully pushing Lyra’s shoulder.

“That was very nice of you,” said Toaster.

“It was nicer of her. But anyway, Toaster, I have a present for you.” Lyra’s magic reached into her saddlebag, and she produced a flat metallic object that was neatly folded against itself.

“You made it?” squealed Toaster, taking it.

“I did. It was actually pretty fun. It won’t work in a practical sense, but I think it should do what you need it to.”

“Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you!” cried Toaster, slipping the metal device down the collar of her kimono and onto her back.

“So that’s why you wanted it open in the back,” said Lacy Leather, finally understanding.

“It was the least I could do for you getting Bon Bon out on that stage. I mean, those socks…and hard elements in the design? I mean, that was a stroke of genius!”

“She thought you would like it,” said Lacy. “A little bit of armor goes a long way.”

Bread appeared to the side of them, and all three pairs of eyes turned toward him. From what Toaster could see, Lacy Leather did just as well with stallions as she did with mares. For Bread, she gone with a kind of pleather and chains theme, giving him chaps, narrow chains in his wings, a choker, hard metal forleg bands- -and a lacy pair of dark panties that none of the three mares could take their eyes off of.

“Sweet Satin Veil,” whispered Lacy Leather. “It’s like it’s staring back at me or something.”

“I can’t stop looking,” said Lyra. “Why can’t I stop looking?!”

“Toaster,” said Bread, apparently ignorant of the attention he was getting. “I am glad I found you.”

“You are?” said Toaster.

“Yes. I just wanted to thank you letting me in on this. And, to say, well…break all the legs.”

“With me, that’s a distinct possibility.”

“Same with my sister, actually. You are not unlike her.”

There was a sound of awe from the crowd and small explosions.

“That’s Trixie’s finally!” said Lacy Leather. “That means you’re up next!”

“CRAP!”

“Assuming we can get her off the stage,” said Lyra, pulling back the curtain slightly to see Trixie gesturing toward a less than appreciative audience.

Miraculously, though, Trixie did come back from the stage.

“Beat that, whore,” she said, slapping Toaster in the face with her tail as she walked past. Toaster responded in kind by slapping Trixie playfully with her own tail, but since it was mostly shaved it was more like a whip than a plume of horsehair. The blow dropped Trixie to the floor with one hit.

“Oops,” said Toaster.

Lacy looked down at the unconscious unicorn. “Well, at least you waited until she had finished.” The music slowed and the lights dimmed. As they did, Lacy’s eyes widened. “That’s your cue! Go!”

“Right,” said Toaster. She gulped, and then shifted to her professional self. She listened carefully to the slow, slightly electronic music, waiting for the part of the song that she was supposed to enter exactly on, desperately hoping that Lacy had remembered to coat the stage in asbestos. Then, when it finally came, Toaster closed her eyes, took a breath, and stepped forward.

The gaze of the ponies in the crowd almost had a physical force behind it, and Toaster immediately knew why Fluttershy had refused this job. The music had been slowed to create a pause, and the cheering for Trixie had stopped. The ponies just stared, and Toaster could hear some of them gasp when they saw the town whore on stage.

She did not let this distract her. Instead, she moved in perfect time to the clicking, plinking sound of the slow music. The lighting ponies turned the lights onto her as she slowly stepped forward one step at a time.

The stage itself had been constructed as a catwalk with a large circular area on the end, a cul-de-sac surrounded by fans. In the audience, Toaster saw many faces of ponies she knew: in the front row, she saw Muffins, sitting with Scootaloo- -who for some reason had not been allowed to participate in the show herself- -and higher up, Toaster saw Granny Smith and her vest-wearing relative.

The music slowed to a stop when Toaster had reached the edge of the circular part of the cul-de-sac stage. She lowered her head and stood still, and the ponies around her stayed silent, perhaps wondering if something had gone wrong. Toaster’s eyes opened slightly, and she looked to where the DJ was stationed. She saw Vinyl Scratch nod.

Then the speakers at the venue exploded with music. Toaster twisted, flexing her body as she moved and literally jumping out of her kimono. As she did, the ponies above reacted quickly, focusing the lights on her. Toaster jumped forward, and down below heard the sound of a hydraulic press activating. A pole shot up in the center of the stage.

Toaster grabbed it with her front hooves and twisted again, sliding it between the boots on her rear legs and inverting herself. She wrapped herself around the pole, descending and gyrating to the routine that she had constructed within her mind.

She kept her eyes open and kept smiling. In her mind, she imagined that the audience was filled with her clients, the ponies that she was meant to give her body to. She would perform for all of them as though they were her lovers, as though she were trying to seduce and impress them. As she began her routine, though, she realized that she did not need to try to keep her professional smile- -the one that was on her face was, in fact, genuine.

The crowd did not cheer immediately; rather, they looked too shocked to. Toaster kept going, though, moving her body to the sound of the music, demonstrating the flexibility of the corset, boots, and socks she was wearing. She dropped down to the stage and slithered outward, turning herself over and exposing herself to two colts that had a front-row seat, a gray one with a scissors cutie mark and a taller yellow one. Toaster looked them both in the eye and smiled seductively.

With a flip, Toaster was back onto the upper part of the pole, grabbing it and summersaulting downward, moving her hips against. She could see that the crowd’s entire attention was on her, which was good thing. None of them had noticed the spell that she had started to cast since she had stepped out; in the bright spotlight, none of them saw the several tiny red orbs floating throughout the room.

Toaster took hold of the pole and pushed out her plot. This part of her routine was the least assured, and though she felt better than she had in her entire life, she was still afraid.

“I trust you, Lyra,” she said to herself.

She closed her eyes and detonated her spell. The room was filled with a resounding explosion of red fire and light that framed Toaster on the stage. As the spell went off, Toaster arched her back. She felt a strange tingling sensation as the neuro-interface from the metal device mounted on her back engaged, and wondered if this was how Lyra felt with her hands.

The device activated, and in an instant, the metal unfolded, revealing a pair of steel wings. The audience gasped, and as the music rose to a chorus of distorted guitar and industrial dance, she engaged the second part of her pyrotechnic spell. Several long lines of energy in the stage glowed bright red and then ignited, flooding the stage with plumes of enchanted crimson fire.

Some of the ponies got up, looking around as though they wanted to escape, but Toaster tightened her control. The flames dropped and slowed, and she looked out at the audience as the music slowed. There was a slight pause- -and then wubs.

Now Toaster accelerated her routine. This part was much more difficult; not only was she dancing, but she was dancing while using the full extent of the sexy-Pegasus training that until this point she thought she would never have cause to use. All that while controlling the flames behind her to keep the audience from being charred into dust.

Still, even all that did not stop her. She swung her hips, her wings, and her flames, and she gave it everything she had.

Then, finally, the end came. Toaster heard the notes that signaled the termination of her segment, and she released the control on her flames for a moment as she drew power into the tip of her horn and focused it into the pole she had been dancing on. As the flames collapsed, the pole vaporized and spread out over the crowd as a shower of sparks. Toaster fell to the ground and struck her sexiest pose as the music stopped.

When the music faded, though, the sound did not. Toaster immediately panicked, just knowing that they were screaming and jeering at her, that she had failed- -but then she realized that they were cheering. Even more than that, in some parts the audience had moved from cheering to sheer moshing. The volunteer security stallions were doing everything they could to prevent the stage from being mobbed.

Toaster sat still in awe for a moment, and then stood. She smiled, but felt a tear run down her face onto and boil away on the heated asbestos floor of the stage. Nopony had ever cheered for her like that.

She bowed, and then turned back to return backstage. As she did, Lacy Leather was coming out. Lacy stopped Toaster as they met.

“You didn’t tell me there’s be pyrotechnics!” she hissed.

“I improvised!” said Toaster.

“You hella did! I think I love you!”

Lacy released Toaster and stepped out onto the stage herself.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, our newest model, Toaster!” she said to a tremendous cheer. “Modeling the latest in upper corset bustier and boots, for a filly who knows ALL The best ways to handle her stallion!”

Toaster went back to the stage and breathed a long sigh of relief. There was a reason she rarely used her magic; in part, because all it could do was burn things, but also in part because controlling took a great deal of effort.

When she finally reached the back, the other ponies were all staring at her wide-eyed, save for Trixie, who was still unconscious, and Bread, who was wide eyed and slack jaws but apparently staring at the curtain and something on the ceiling.

“Where did you learn how to do THAT?” cried Lyra.

“Prostitute school,” said Toaster.

“Impressive,” said Bread. “You really worked the whole ‘Princess of Lust’ angle.”

“Thank you, Bread,” said Toaster. As she looked at him, their eyes met- -or as closely as their eyes could meet, considering that Bread was severely derped- -and when they both saw each other’s outfits, both of their wings pompfed simultaneously.

“Bon Bon,” said Lyra, turning to Bon Bon, who had been waiting back stage, still in her socks. “You are so wearing a pair of those wings.”

“Um, no,” said Bon Bon. “I think YOU are. I’ve always wondered what having my own princess would feel like.”

“Dude,” said Lyra, addressing all of them. “Octavia, you go get Vinyl. The cider is most definitely on me tonight. Hay, I’ll even pay to get Toaster bottomless nachos!”

“I do like things bottomless,” said Toaster, waving her exposed brown plot in the air.

The others laughed.

“Hey, I’ve just got to take care of some business,” said Toaster.

“We’ve got time,” said Octavia. “Vinyl still has to pack up, and Trixie needs to…regain consciousness.”

“That, and I don’t really feel comfortable going out like this,” said Bon Bon.

“No?” said Lyra through a leash and pony-sized collar in her mouth.

“Where did you even get that?”

Toaster walked off as the other ponies laughed. Lacy Leather was returning from the stage after plugging her product wearing a smile big enough for a pony twice her size. Several medics came to help Trixie, and a few fans came backstage. Toaster saw Muffins hug Bread, and then a vest-wearing pony blush as he handed Bread the most impressively large bouquet of flowers that Toaster had ever seen.

Smiling, Toaster made her way into the back hall toward the little-filly’s room. The back hall of the venue was narrow and almost empty, save for a pale blue unicorn mare with a snowflake cutie mark waiting by the door, leaning against a wall. She had been in the show too, Toaster recalled, but for some reason Toaster could not remember her name. Toaster started to walk toward her to invite her to cider with the rest of the group, but before she reached her, the outside door opened and two identical blue unicorns stepped in. They paused in front of the mare, and they just stood there. There was no speaking, not even an acknowledgement of each other’s presence. Then, after several seconds, they left together.

“That was…weird,” said Toaster. She shrugged it off, though. She really needed to use the restroom, mostly to vomit in. She had overexerted herself by dancing too much after eating- -and after having so many bones fractured from the beating days prior.

It took her a moment to find the door, but as Toaster started to push it open, she heard a voice beside her.

“Excuse me,” it said.

Toaster jumped, immediately afraid that the stallions had come back to beat her again- -and that this time, they would finish what they started. This instinct was not helped when she turned and saw a stallion standing near her. Toaster actually cried out and froze, not knowing what to do.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“You followed me to the bathroom!”

“No, I- -”

“Please! No more beatings! Don’t hurt me!”

“Beat you? I don’t want to beat you, why would you even say that?”

Toaster paused. Something felt strange. This stallion seemed oddly familiar. Then it occurred to Toaster, and her jaw dropped. “YOU!” she cried, recognizing her last customer at the brothel.

“So you do remember me.”

“You cost me my job!”

“I did? Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- -”

“No, no,” sighed Toaster. “It was actually my fault. For being a virgin.”

The stallion’s eyes widened. “You were a virgin? You mean I almost deflowered you?”

“Still am, actually. Although I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking a second whack at it?”

“Not in the slightest. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I just saw your performance, and, well, I wanted to thank you.”

“I was just doing my job. Well, not really. My job is actually, well, you know that already.”

“Not the show. For what you did.”

“Attempted rape?”

“Um…yes, I guess.” He shook his head. “I mean, no. When I came to buy your…services…I was in a bad place. I was losing my marriage, and my wife and I did nothing but argue. But after our…incident…I saw that I was wrong. I went back to her, and I listened to what she had to say, and we worked it out. You saved my marriage.”

“I…I did?”

“Cloud Bottler!” cried a voice from down the hall. Toaster looked to see a pale yellow Pegasus mare. “We have to get home in time to get the sitter home! She’s only- -oh! Hi there!”

She waved, and Toaster waved back. This situation was extremely awkward.

“Got to go,” said Cloud Bottler. “But, here.” He produced a flower, and passed it to Toaster with his magic. “I would give you more, but I only have this one. I stole it from some guy in a vest.”

“For me?” said Toaster, taking the zinnia in her hooves.

“Again, thank you!” he said, galloping off back to his wife. Toaster watched as he joined his wife and walked off, both of them waving back.

Toaster smiled and put the flower behind one of her ears through what little hair she had left. She just stood there for a moment, watching them go. She did not need to use the restroom anymore anyway; she only hoped that the stallion had not seen her wetting herself while they had been talking.

Chapter 16: Finishing the Job

This dream was different. This one was not a fantasy. Instead, it was a memory, or perhaps something that had once been a memory. In it, there was light. Bright, white light. Light that never stopped, never faded, and never ended. There was no darkness, but likewise, there was no sun. Just the cold glow of the lights.

Around her were the humming and clicking of the machines. The sounds she had always known, the sounds that had followed her since the beginning. Every beat of her heart beeped in the machine. The machines were not external, they were a part of her, and extension of her.

Around her were ponies. They all moved in a haze, but they had no faces. Just masks, and they wore white. They were not part of the machines. Were they part of the light? Were they something different from Toaster, a different kind of being? She did not know. The thoughts came too slowly.

Slowly, she lifted her hoof. It was brown. Neither the light nor the machines were brown, but she was. Pushing into the brown were so many needles, so many instruments. The fingers of the machine, or the extensions of her own body back to her true self. It was a sign of the endless pain, and in the endless pain the joy of the days when the cutting finally stopped, until it started again.

And yet, Toaster never resisted. There was nothing to resist. This was the only way life could exist: with the lights, the machines, and the ponies wandering lost in the haze.

Toaster awoke with a start, once again plowing her forhead into the bottom of Lyra’s floor and leaving yet another hole.

“Hey! Watch it!” yelled Bon Bon from above.

“Sorry!” called Toaster. With some effort, she disengaged her head and lay back down in the dirt. She smiled. The day was cool, but not cold, and sun was pouring in from the gaps between Lyra’s house and the ground. That, and Toaster had just awoken from a nostalgic dream. In addition, she had, for the first time in her entire life, gotten paid more than a single bit. Lacy Leather had, in fact, been so taken with Toaster’s performance that she had hired Toaster as an employee. As far as Toaster could tell, her job was pretty much the same, except now instead of having wieners pointed at her, cameras would be.

Then the sound that had awoken her repeated itself. Toaster realized that it was knocking. That did not mean much to her, so she just rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

“Toaster?” called a voice from the edge of the foundation. Toaster opened her eyes and looked out. Two pairs of derped yellow eyes were staring back at her, and Toaster realized that the knocking had been meant for her.

Quickly, she slithered her way out from under the house and emerged in the bright summer sun of Lyra’s garden. Muffins was smiling outside, her derped dog beside her, its tail wagging rapidly.

“Muffins!” said Toaster. “Why are you here?”

“Because I live over there,” she said, pointing to her house. It was only about ten feet away, and Toaster could see Scootaloo peeking out from beneath the porch.

“Oh. I see you remembered this time.”

“Bark,” said the dog, happily.

Toaster looked down at it. “I still don’t think dogs are literally supposed to say ‘Bark’.”

“No, no, that’s completely normal,” said Muffins. “Just like how cats say ‘cat’.”

“I’ve never seen a cat…but I have seen a lot of pussy!”

There was a loud barely suppressed snort from beneath Muffin’s porch. The dog looked toward it, but then back at Toaster.

“So,” said Toaster. “Why the knocking?”

“Because I want to hire you,” said Muffins, bluntly.

Toaster coughed, surprised. “Why is it that only mares want a ride on the Toaster train?” she said. “Look, Muffins, you’re real hot for a mother of two, and I’m not saying I couldn’t totally pound your muffin batter, but I just don’t go that way. In fact…” she paused, knowing full well what she was about to say, “I’m kind of thinking of toning down the whole prostitution thing. For now, at least. Until I build up a bigger fan base.”

“You already seem to have a few fans,” said Muffins, pointing over her shoulder. Out on the street, a pair of colts- -named Snips and Snails, or so Toaster was told- -where holding up home-made and poorly spelled signs declaring their devotion to her. Similarly, a yellow, vest-wearing stallion was doing the same at Muffins’s house.

“Oh, they’re just looking for a unicorn role model,” said Toaster. “Besides…the yellow one’s got the goods, but it’ll be a few years before the grey one can really drive it home. But still. I don’t take mares.”

“It’s not for me,” said Muffins, holding out a bag of coins. “It’s for my brother.”

Toaster raised an eyebrow. “You’re hiring a prostitute…for your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I figured a wild-filly like yourself could handle all his needs.”

“Not all of them,” said Muffins. “And I don’t want you to take him to bed. Well, unless you want to. But I think he really likes you. I just want to pay you to go on a date with him.”

“That’s weird. You know that’s weird, right?”

“I work in the shipping industry,” said Muffins. “This is pretty standard for me.”

“Just a date?”

“Just a date.”

“Hmm. I’ve never been on a date before.”

“Really?”

“Nopony wants to date a prostitute. My brothel didn’t really specialize in escort services. But I think I can swing it. Sure. But if he gets hoofsy without extra funds, I will slap him.”

“If he gets hoofsy on the first date, he deserves to be slapped.” Muffins extended her hoof with the sack of bits, but Toaster waved it away.

“I don’t take pay in advance,” she said. “Because of…problems, in the past. You can pay me if he lives. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know where you live.”

“Bark!” said the derp dog. It jumped up to Toaster’s side and lay down.

“Aww!” said Toaster. “Aren’t you just a weird little product of inbreeding!” She knelt down and rubbed her hooves rapidly on the dog’s underside. “I may not be Vinyl Scratch, but I’ve got da wubs!”

“Bark bark bark!” said the dog.

“There is something else,” said Muffins, her tone becoming slightly less cheerful.

“What?”

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Am I?” said Toaster, checking herself. “Did I forget pants?”

“You don’t usually wear pants. And no. That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

Muffins looked Toaster in the eye. “I’ve broken a lot of things in my time, largely because I’m mostly blind. But whenever I do, I try to fix what I can, and apologize for what I can’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have unfinished business, Toaster. With a certain white unicorn.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, her heart sinking. “That…”

A knock came at the door of the Carousel Boutique. Rarity paused from her work and looked to the door. Knocks were unusual in the middle of the day. Normally, customers just came in whenever they wanted, usually by appointment but sometimes to schedule one or for deliveries. In that sense, Rarity was not unlike Twilight- -except that while Rarity had customers and an actual job, Twilight subsisted on a heavy royal stipend and really had no reason to leave her doors unlocked.

The glow of Rarity’s horn faded as she dropped the buttons and thread that she had been comparing for her latest creation. For the past few days, she had closed her business due to psychological trauma. The whole time, she had found solace in her work and drowned many tears in fabric that had to be subsequently de-teared and pressed.

“Sweetie Belle, dear, are you expecting your little friends?” called Rarity. Since there was no response, she assumed that Sweetie Belle was not there, which was not unusual. After all, Sweetie Belle did not actually live with her. She just showed up sometimes.

There was another knock on the door, this one louder. Rarity rubbed her bruised eye, which had gone from dark blue to a sickly yellow, and decided that she had to open it.

“Hold on,” said Rarity, trotting to the door. She wrapped her magic around the doorknob and pulled it open. As soon as she did, she immediately regretted her decision.

Pressed against the door was a brown unicorn with hideous green hair and excessive makeup, a branch from Rarity’s perfectly manicured privet shrubs still protruding from her mouth.

“You!” cried Rarity. “How dare you show your face to me! Here, in my own home!”

“Rarity, wait, I need to- -”

“Don’t you even say my name! What’s the matter, HMM? Come back to finish the job you started? First you have the gall to attack me in broad daylight, and then- -THEN- -you go to work for my main competitor? Or did that petite salope de bovins pay you to do it?”

“You’re not being very polite,” said the brown pony, frowning and raising her voice. “It’s not like I want to be out here talking to you!”

“Then LEAVE!”

“What, do you think I like being in the presence of a unicorn like YOU?” The brown pony pressed herself closer, and Rarity responded by pressing back.

“Well, at least I’M not BROWN!”

“That’s exactly my point! How the HAY am I supposed to compete with a WHITE unicorn?! You’re like a friggin goddess, and I’m a half-shaved fire hazard!”
“And whose fault is THAT?”

“My own! Because I mistook a fashion designer for a competing prostitute and beat her, and I’m really ashamed that I made that mistake and came to apologize but I can’t stop yelling because I’m really angry and I don’t know why!” The brown pony looked up, and her eyes widened. Her voice dropped several decibels. “Uh…our horns are touching.”

Rarity looked up, and realized that the brown mare was right. In their heated argument, they had literally butted heads without noticing, and now their uniformly appendages were rubbing against one another. A number of Rarity’s neighbor stallions had gathered on the far side of her privet hedges, all watching wide-eyed in anticipation. The brown mare’s eyes shifted back toward them, and for a long moment they both stared at the crowd, and the crowd stared back at them.

Rarity quickly disconnected, brushing off her horn and blushing heavily.

“You came to apologize?” she said, clearing her throat.

“I feel really really really really bad about what I did, and it was wrong. So yes.”

“Well, then you really ought to come inside. Before I have to have Sweetie Belle spray out the privets again.”

Rarity stepped inside, and the brown mare hesitated. Then she entered the boutique, and Rarity closed the door behind her.

“If you try anything,” said Rarity. “I will scream SO loud…”

“What am I supposed to try?”

“NOTHING!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Now,” said Rarity. “I suppose you can start by telling me your name? Even if you are a vulgar brute, I simply can’t proceed without even a semblance of a proper introduction.”

“Toaster. My name is Toaster, town hooker.”

“YOU!” cried Rarity, finally connecting the dots. “Pinkie Pie told me about you!”

“She did?”

“I should have known a pony with such an unpleasant occupation- -and such low class- -would do something so- -so UNCOUTH!”

“I think it was more an act of stupidity than a lack of couth,” protested Toaster.

“Why would you even DO something like that?”

“Because I thought you were also a prostitute.”

“But WHY?” Rarity felt just as insulted as she had when Toaster had first proclaimed that fact on the day of the attack, but Rarity had only half-believed it, believing the statement to be some kind of sick prank. Now, though, she saw that Toaster was absolutely serious.

“Because I saw you with those stallions and I just…I just got so jealous…”

“Jelous?” Rarity was flattered, but knew that feeling that way was not appropriate.

“I mean, look at you! Perfect figure, perfect makeup, perfect hair, perfect cutie mark, perfect color, perfect ACCENT!”

“Oh, well,” said Rarity. “It’s only because I spent so much time on my appearance. After all, it is always important to make a good impression. But you’re not…ehh…”

“I’m BROWN,” said Toaster. “With green hair. GREEN HAIR. And you’re basically Fleur de Lis over here.”

“Oh, no,” said Rarity. “Fleur has a much finer figure than me, and such grace and beauty, to say nothing of her long, silky pastel main. I have made several dresses for her, and it is always a monumental challenge to frame such beauty in adequate clothing.”

Toaster’s eyes widened, to the point where Rarity actually became somewhat frightened. Toaster’s eyes, it seemed, were as green as her hair, and the combination of that green with her coat really was rather unfortunate. “You know Fleur de Lis?!” squeaked Toaster.

“Well, yes,” said Rarity. “Of course. We always have coffee when I’m in Canterlot, and I just adore her husband’s parties. She’s even agreed to model in my upcoming fall- -”

Rarity was interrupted by a gasp so loud and long that Toaster eventually just passed out on the floor.

“Oh dear,” said Rarity, somewhat panicked. She looked around, trying to remember where she had put the smelling salts, before remembering that she had thrown them out for being too smelly. “I think I need to- -”

“Fleur de Lis!” cried Toaster, opening her eyes. She paused, looking around. “How did I get down here?” quickly, she stood up.

“Is that…normal?”

“No, I get a little brain damage every time it happens. But Fleur de Lis!” Toaster released a rather harsh fangirl squeal. “I just adore her! She’s pretty much my role model! I even have a tattoo of her somewhere…” She began looking over her body. “…or did I tattoo somepony else with it?”

“I’m actually surprised you’re familiar with her.” Toaster, after all, did not look like a pony who often bothered to look at photos from high-fashion expositions.

“Of course! She’s one of my all-time favorite prostitutes!”

Rarity froze and choked. “Excuse me? Fleur is a model, certainly not a…a prostitute!”

“Oh, no,” said Toaster. “She is not A prostitute. She is THE prostitute. Literally the most successful call-filly in the 29th Street House’s history! The most elegant, well-paid of us all, in a league lightyears away from any other girl at our brothel! She’s been in the beds of all the Canterlot elite, hired by only the most wealthy, discerning, and influential elite. Princes, diplomats, foreign rulers, weathy heirs and moguls- -they even say she was as consort to Celestia herself at one point! And she SURVIVED!”

“But but but…” Rarity did not know how to process this information. Fleur was a friend, and, in all honestly, Rarity had rather looked up to her- -both professionally and literally, considering Fleur’s height. Fleur had never once mentioned any of this- -but in some perverse way, Rarity found Toaster’s description alluring, momentarily imagining herself in Fleur’s alleged position and, for a brief moment, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “But…she’s married! To Fancy Pants!”

“I know,” said Toaster, wiping away a tear. “It’s such a beautiful story! He was her best customer! And now…now they’re in a long-term contract…”

“Contract?”

Toaster nodded, sniffling against the emotional strain of what she considered to be some kind of love story. “When a prostitute retires, she either becomes a Madame, goes into teaching the next generation, or gets a ‘long-term contract’ with a wealthy patron. I think layponies call it ‘marriage’.”

“Well…that is an interesting way to…er…look at the union of two ponies.” It was, in fact, the exact way that Rarity herself often looked at a union between two ponies- -but there was no way she was going to admit that.

“Of course,” said Toaster. “Fleur de Lis may be the sexiest pony alive, but as a whore, she doesn’t even hold a candle to Yulbee.”

“To whom?” Rarity had the strangest feeling that she had heard that name before.

“Yulbee Cummingtonite,” said Toaster. “Oh, wow. Just, wow. THAT was a prostitute…no, you can’t even use that word to describe her. She’s a legend, with basically a weaponized vagina. Some ponies don’t even think she was real, but I assure you, she was. She didn’t even have a brothel, she was just an independent, like me, but…the things she could do! I’ve managed to learn two or three, but some of them just can’t be taught. The things that pony could do in bed…they say that if she ever went all-out on a stallion, he would die instantly unless he had a mind as hard as stone and a dick five times that hard.”

“You are using the past-tense,” noted Rarity. “Did something happen to this Yulbee Cu…Yulbee?”

“Yeah,” sighed Toaster. “She got pregnant. Married some rock farmer, changed her name to something Quartz…I hear he’s put four foals into her so far.”

“I can’t help but feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Rarity paused, trying to think, but when she came up with nothing, she just sighed and turned to Toaster. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” said Toaster, sounding confused. “You mean those little bags with the crunchy stuff inside them? I do like those, but the little staples do a number on my digestive tract.”

“Staples…you don’t mean to say that you’ve been eating tea bags, do you?”

“And the little strings. I just can’t get enough of those little strings.”

“You do realize you can make a drink from those, don’t you?”

Toaster’s eyes widened and she started to gasp. Before she could get very far, though, Rarity shoved her magic into Toaster’s mouth.

“Sorry,” said Rarity. “But passing out to much is not healthy.”

“Right,” said Toaster. She smacked her lips. “Mmm…licorice and marshmallow.”

Rarity led Toaster over to the kitchen, where she reached telekinetically into the cabinets and produced a steel kettle. She filled it with water at the sink and set it on the stove. The whole time, she noticed, Toaster was watching, following the shimmering blue of Rarity’s magic with her eyes. It was weird and uncomfortable, but Rarity did not feel threatened- -yet.

“This might take some time to boil,” she said.

“I can make it go faster,” said Toaster. The tip of her horn glowed with red light, and the kettle instantly began whistling more loudly than Rarity had ever heard whistle before.

“Oh my,” said Rarity, picking up a pot holder with her magic and removing the kettle from the stove. “A heat spell? That certainly is uncommon.” She poured out the water into several mugs and went to the tea cupboard, looking through her collection of teas for one that she imagined that Toaster would probably like. “I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had succeeded in using your magic on my in that alley.”

Toaster took a deep breath and closed her eyes, grimacing. Her tone changed so sharply that Rarity actually paused as she reached for a rarely used chocolate mint blend on the top shelf. “Please don’t make me think about that,” she said.

“Well,” said Rarity. “I suppose it could have been worse had my friends not intervened. Of course, this black eye is no summer picnic. I haven’t been able to show my face in public for nearly a week because of you, and I still have a very important meeting with Twilight and a touring diplomat in a few days.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Toaster. “And you’re white too…you probably bruise like a banana.”

“I do. And it is extraordinarily rude to hit a lady in the face.”

“I know, and now that I look at you, I feel like I defaced some kind of precious art…thing. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Well, I do, but it was based on faulty logic.”

“And I still have not forgiven you,” said Rarity, making the tea and setting it on her table. “Not yet.”

“I don’t expect you to. Not easily, anyway. If you were a stallion, I would consider giving you a horn job as an offering.”

“A ‘horn job’?”

“Yeah. I would stick your horn in my mouth and lick and suckle it until you shoot your magic down my throat.”

“Oh my,” said Rarity, now feeling VERY uncomfortable and blushing substantially- -but at the same time wondering if she could actually managed to do that herself. “That sounds dangerous.”

Toaster nodded. “It is. Even professionals sometimes lose their heads. There’s spells to help, but non-unicorns usually have to go to the side at the last second. Horn rubbing is safer, but you can get horn rot from that if you’re not careful.”

“Horn rot?” said Rarity, nervous, knowing that her own horn had touched Toaster’s.

Toaster smiled. “You don’t have to worry. I’m clean. I only ever horn-rubbed a stallion once.” She sighed. “He’s an earth pony now…”

“Oh my,” said Rarity, relieved and terrified at the same time. She sat down at the table with Toaster and lifted her teacup, sipping from it gently. It was warmed perfectly.

She watched Toaster do the same- -except that Toaster lifted the mug with unusual hoof precision instead of using telekinesis.

“I see you’ve spent some time with earth ponies,” she noted. “Or perhaps Pegasi?”

“I’ve spent time with many ponies.”

“Oh! Yes, well, um…It’s just that you’re not using your magic to lift the cup.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, looking down. “Yeah. I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope. Can’t use magic.”

“But the heat spell!”

“No, you don’t understand.” Toaster looked around, and her eyes settled on a dish of sugarcubes. She picked one up in her hoof and held it out. “You might want to cover your ears.”

Toaster lowered her head slightly, and a small plume of red magic formed around the tip of her horn. A similar plume formed around the sugar cube, and with undue concentration, Toaster gently lifted it a few millimeters into the air.

Then, before Rarity even knew what was going on, an explosion racked her house. The concussive blast was so powerful that it blew open her windows and knocked her backward off her chair. For a moment, she was knocked into a daze and partially deafened. Slowly, though, she sat up.

The sugar cube was gone. In its place was a smoking black stain on Toaster’s brown hoof.

“It isn’t stable,” said Toaster. “I can do heat spells…but only heat spells. Anything else that I touch with my magic…well…this.”

“That’s terrible!” said Rarity, returning to her seat. She was still momentarily disoriented, but the explosion had been more surprising than actually dangerous. In volume and effect, it was not much different from one of Twilight’s teleportation spells. Except that when Twilight teleported something, it actually went somewhere instead of being reduced to ash.

Rarity reached out for the remainder of the sugar cubes, but suddenly found that the bowl was completely empty. Rarity’s eyes flashed up to Toaster just in time to see her swallow them, and chase them down with a delicate and nearly ladylike sip of tea.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Not a problem. I prefer it black anyway.”

“Ah. So you are THAT kind of pony.”

They sat in silence for a moment, each slowly sipping their tea. It was uncomfortable, but Rarity just did not know what the two of them might have had in common.

“You know,” said Rarity, at last. “I suppose, in a way, I have to admit that I am just a teensie bit jealous of you.”

“Of me?” said Toaster, confused. “But you’re the elite of elites!”

“Oh, no, darling. I’m just an ordinary pony, the same as everypony else.”

“My own shi- -”

“Language!” chastised Rarity.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s just that…well, it’s rather ironic really. You mistook me for a prostitute when, in fact, I have a bit of a dearth of male attention in my life.”

“What? No way! A unicorn like you, come ON! You have the pick of the litter, especially in a town like this! You could probably swing yourself a whole reverse-harem! I saw those two before, you had them wrapped around your little hoof.”

“Well, yes. I would be lying if I did not admit that I do…flirt. And that I sometimes use it to get things that I want.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“But that’s all I really can do.”

“What do you mean?”

Rarity looked down at her tea. “I’ve gone through a lot to build a reputation. Getting in with the correct crowds, climbing in society, building my business. My image is important, and an important part of me. But having to uphold a reputation is…taxing.”

“Reputation?”

“Not something you would know about. Or maybe you would, but in the opposite way.” Rarity let out a long sigh. “How I would just love pull a handsome stallion into my boudoir for a steamy tryst…but if word got out, my image would be ruined.”

“That’s terrible!” cried Toaster. “That’s positively draconian! And I don’t even know what that word means!”

“It may be old fashioned, and I admit that there is a double standard, but that is the way it is. Stallions are expected to be experienced, but a proper mare should go into marriage as pure as fresh linen.”

“Tell that to Fleur.”

“Which…I suppose that’s hard for the stallions, too,” said Rarity, for the first time thinking about that fact. “If they are expected to have…ahem…been ‘broken in’, it must be terrible feeling like they are ruining the future of the mares they lie with.”

“That’s my job,” said Toaster.

Rarity looked at Toaster’s green eyes. “I suppose it is.”

“It’s such a waste, though. You have a killer color, and you can’t even use it? If I had your coat color and a horn that actually worked, I would sleep on a bed made of stallions. Solid, stallions. And by solid I mean- -”

“I know what you mean.”

“But instead, I’m stuck with green hair…”

“Actually, regarding that,” said Rarity, who had not been able to take her eyes off Toaster’s unusual haircut for most of the meeting. “I simply must ask, who did your hair?” Then, adding under her breath, “so I know which hairdresser to avoid.”

“Scootaloo and Lyra did their best,” said Toaster, rubbing the green fuzz that made up everything except her bangs. “They evened it out, but they couldn’t fix it entirely.”

“Did something happen?”

Toaster averted her eyes. She paused unduly long, clearly thinking. “Let’s just say that you have a lot of devoted fans, Ms. Rarity.”

“Fans? I don’t understand.”

“It’s not that I didn’t deserve it. I definitely did, for what I did to you. What I almost did. Hay, I deserved much, much worse.”

“What happened?”

Toaster looked up at Rarity, and then away. “That night, I came to try to apologize to you. I felt terrible. But they caught me.”

“Who?”

“Stallions. And one mare with blue eyes. They were wearing masks, so I didn’t see who they were. They tied me up, beat me…I lost two teeth…and then they shaved my mane and tail.”

There was a sound of a teacup shattering. Toaster looked down instinctively, but saw that hers was somehow still intact. Then she heard the sound of a stool being pushed back sharply, and saw Rarity standing. Toaster immediately felt afraid, wondering if she had said something wrong. Unlike her, Rarity had full use of her magic; Toaster had only managed to get the drop on her before. If Rarity wanted to hurt Toaster, it would not be difficult for her to do so.

“They WHAT?!” cried Rarity.

“Shaved my head…and my tail…”

“Of all the horrid, despicable barbarism that one pony can do to another!” cried Rarity, now nearly screaming. “I can’t believe- -are you sure?”

“I was there,” said Toaster, wishing that she had not been.

“And you seriously believe you DESERVED that?”

“I did.”

“No. NO! Never! You may have hurt me, given me a black eye, and called me ‘crab infested’- -which I still have not forgiven you for, mind you- -but you at least had the common curtesy- -not, DIGNITY to leave my hair out of it! What kind of a monster takes a mare’s MANE?”

“It’s actually growing on me, I think,” said Toaster. “Literally, even. Because it’s hair. But Lacy Leather says it looks sexy, and I agree.” She sighed, and then reached behind her. Rarity almost cried out when she saw the mostly-shaved nub of Toaster’s tail. “But I miss my tail. I used to be able to make it so poofy and cute. Now I’m not cute anymore. I look like a rat.”

“You do! I- -I mean no, it isn’t bad! Short tails are quite ‘in’ this summer!”

Toaster raised an eyebrow. “Short tails are NEVER in.”

“Indeed,” admitted Rarity. She sat back down and was silent for a long moment. Then she looked up at Toaster. “I just don’t understand how any pony could do something so ghastly, so brutal. I would offer to try to fix it but…but even I have limits. Darling, that must have been horrible!”

“It was pretty bad. But I was pretty ugly to start with, so…”

“Don’t say that!” snapped Rarity. “I won’t have you disparaging yourself under my roof! Every pony is pretty in her own right, even if she…”

“Is brown, half-shaved, with green hair and a defective horn?”

“Yes,” said Rarity. “You may be violent, uncouth, classless, and possibly disease ridden- -”

“Not helping.”

“But you still are pretty! Well, in a non-classical sense!”

“Really?”

“Really. And if there’s anything I can do to help you…”

“Actually,” said Toaster, shyly. “There is.” She produced a small bag and placed it on the table. From the jingling, Rarity could tell that it was full of bits. “I know I’m in no position to ask this, and I’d understand if you say no. Or threw me out just for asking. But, I was told you make dresses…and I have a big date coming up with Muffins’s brother…”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “There’s ANOTHER one?”

“With the way they go at it, I’m surprised there’s not way more.”

“Can’t you just have Lacy Leather make you one?” said Rarity, momentarily unable to control her snideness.

Toaster shook her head. “She only knows how to make lingerie, not real dresses. And the only ‘dresses’ I actually have are so short that they show of my pony-parts. Or my a kimono, and that’s not appropriate for Ombre du Château either!”

Rarity gasped slightly. “You mean that new restaurant that just opened near the castle? The one specializing in the very hautest of haute cuisine?”

“I’m not sure about the temperature, but yes, that one.”

“How ever did you get reservations?! And you’re taking Muffins’s brother- -oh dear. If he is anything like her, I certainly hope they have good insurance.”

“Muffins has connections. But that place is all fancy and junk! I can’t show up naked! Please, this is my whole week’s pay. I don’t need something custom, if you’ll just let me buy something off the shelf, that would be better than I could ever have hoped for.”

Rarity let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, but I just don’t do off-the-shelf in my Ponyville branch.”

“You have more than one branch? Are you Fluttershy?”

“No. But I only do custom work here in Ponyville, and I’m simply too backlogged right now. You must understand. Could you not perhaps borrow a dress from somepony?”

Toaster shook her head. “Lyra’s clothes are all made out of titanium, and Muffins’s are too small. And Bon Bon doesn’t want me wearing her clothes around Lyra.” Toaster stood up from the table. “Well, at least thank you for considering the request. And once again, I’m sorry for beating you like a rented mule.” She turned to the mule that was peering through Rarity’s window. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he whispered in response.

Toaster moved to leave, but then Rarity suddenly had an idea.

“Wait!” she cried, jumping up so fast that her stool fell over behind her. “I actually have an idea!”

Toaster turned around, her eyes suddenly inordinately large with hope.

“I was working on a dress,” said Rarity. “It was supposed to be for a pony named Flitter, a darling Pegasus girl, really, but she never showed up for the fitting.”

“Come to think about it…she was supposed to be at the lingerie show, but she never showed up.”

“Here, let me show you,” said Rarity, leading Toaster into the main room. Past several exquisite but gaudy dresses for their respective owners, there was a far simpler dress on a mannequin against the back wall. “Without her fittings, I put it on the back burner, so to speak. It’s just an unmodified shell right now, and it is fitted for a Pegasus, but if I let it out a little to accommodate for you…er…”

“Height?”

“Sure. But if you accessorize properly, I think it would be more than appropriate for any occasion.”

“But isn’t it hers?”

“Not anymore,” said Rarity in a huff. “Not showing up for an appointment and not calling is extremely rude. I can only figure that she does not want it anymore. I was going to disassemble it for fabric, but it will only take me a few moments to hem. Of course, the color is still a bit…bland…” Rarity turned the mannequin to get a good look at the dress she had been working on. It was a perfectly suitable dress, just terribly dull.

She turned back to see if Toaster was even interested in something so simple, and suddenly found a pair of enormous, glimmering green eyes staring back at her. “You would do that…for me?”

“Well…yes…if you stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

“Hugs!”

Before Rarity could stop her, Toaster wrapped her in an enormous hug.

“Fractured rib! Fractured rib!” wheezed Rarity trying to escape.

“Oh,” said Toaster, putting her down. “Sorry.”

“Not a- -cough- -problem,” said Rarity. “Now stand on that pedestal over there and…”

“Turn my head and cough. Yeah, I know the drill.”

Chapter 17: Making Cupcakes

The basement was dark and musty. Rainbow Dash wrinkled her nose as she descended the rickety steps that led to the underground portion of Sugarcube Corner. She had an urge to fly, but her flight feathers were still not one hundred percent. So, instead, she just followed straight-haired Pinkie Pie into the basement.

“Hey, Pinkie,” she said when she got to the bottom. The air was cool, but it had a strange smell…something unpleasant. Rainbow Dash chuckled nervously. “What are we gonna do in the basement?”

“I’m frustrated, Dashie,” said Pinkie Pie, leaning over a stained wooden table. Since her back was turned, Rainbow Dash could not see what Pinkie was doing. “I really am. And I need an outlet for that stress…”

Pinkie turned around, and Rainbow Dash caught the glint of an exorbitantly large butcher knife in her hoof.

“Pinkie, what are you doing with that?” Pinkie did not answer, she only smiled and giggled as she approached Rainbow Dash. “Put that down before you hurt somepony…Pinkie, no PINKIE- -!”

Pinkie Pie raised the knife above her head and brought it down with all the force she could muster. As it struck, red liquid shot out, spattering the walls and covering Pinkie Pie in sticky warm fluid. One hit was not enough, though, and Pinkie pie raised the blade again and again, pushing it down as hard and fast as she could, stabbing again and again until her endless rage was satisfied.

With a giggle, she licked the liquid from her lips. It tasted so sweet. “Thanks, Dashie,” said Pinkie, now nearly out of breath. “You know how much I needed that…”

“Yeah, well,” said Rainbow Dash, wiping the watermelon juice from her face. “You could at least wait until I brought down the others. Ah, hay, I’m gonna be all sticky now. And you know this stuff makes me itchy!”

“Aww, don’t be such a killjoy. Mellon out,” said Pinkie, picking up the remnants of the brutalized fruit and placing them on the stained table. With a smaller knife, she immediately began removing the succulent flesh from its skin, the whole time pretending that it was screaming.

“Puns are not funny,” said Rainbow Dash. “And besides, what do you even need all things for anyway?”

“I’m making cupcakes,” said Pinkie, putting the rinds to the side and the flesh in a bowl.

“In your basement?”

“No, silly. In the Cake’s basement. I have to keep up with demand, you know.”

“What demand?” said Rainbow Dash. “Nopony’s buying anything! The’re all afraid to go outside, not until the Ponyville Pugilist is caught.”

Pinkie Pie’s knife suddenly clattered to the floor. “The what?” she said.

“You know, the guy who beat up that prostitute. That’s what they’re calling him now. A terrifying figure that lurks in the darkness, waiting for little fillies to be all alone- -and then he pounces, beating them to a pony pulp!”

Pinkie Pie was speechless, and her hair became slightly straighter. “But he only beat one pony, and a pony who clearly deserved it.”

“Well, you know what they say. Once a pony beats it, he gets a taste for it. Then he can’t stop beating it. Of course, I’m not afraid, you know. If I ever meet that sicko, I’ll bop him right in the nose!”
Rainbow Dash mimed bopping said serial beater in the nose, and Pinkie Pie jumped at the motion. “Whoa, Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash. “Little jumpy, aren’t you?

“Just regular jumpy. Nothing weird. Certainly did not get a Pinkie pony posse to punch a pony prostitute. Not like that…that sicko. Yeah!”

“Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash. “I think you’ve been taking just a little too much. You really need to lay off the stuff.”

“Lay of the what? I’m not on anything. I’m Pinkie Pie! I’m naturally perky and fun-loving!”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Pinkie. Everyone in Ponyville knows about your coke habit.”

“They do not! I mean- -I don’t have a coke habit!”

Rainbow Dash kicked a large metal cabinet that was against one of the walls. It popped upon, and a number of large, porous gray rocks tumbled out.

“I- -I was making steel! Honest!”

“Sure Pinkie, sure. Smelting iron…in your nose…”

“This coming from a chronic alcoholic.”

“I am NOT an alcoholic.”

“I once saw you try to eat cider that was soaked into dirt.”

“That is totally normal,” protested Rainbow Dash.

Pinkie Pie sighed. “I just don’t understand…”

“I think it has something to do with the pressure of being an athlete,” said Rainbow Dash introspectively. “It’s just so stressful, and sometimes I need something to calm me down.”

“Not that,” said Pinkie. “I just don’t understand how she could possibly be a VIRGIN!”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Well…uh…it means that a stallion never stuck it in her…um…ear?”

Pinkie Pie looked back and raised an eyebrow. “Ear? Really? Yeah, you should definitely stick to mares.”

“Why does EVERYPONY think that?” cried Rainbow Dash. She instinctively fluttered into the air, something that took a great deal of effort with her short flight feathers. “I’m NOT a lespony! I like STALLIONS! You know, ones with a ton of hair…and real small. And way younger by, like, twenty years.”

“Um, Dashie, you’re like nineteen,” said Pinkie Pie.

“Yeah, well- -I don’t know, in all my fantasies I’m a fifty year old Wonderbolt commander ‘testing’ new recruits. Giving them a real run through the paces. I’m not going to get it on with a newborn foal!”

“Yeah…I believe there is a senate bill of a story that says otherwise.”

“Senate? Pinkie, we live in a totalitarian autocracy. But yeah, no mares. Except griffon hens. Or…cocks?”

Pinkie Pie slammed her face into half a watermelon.

“I think it’s the hair,” she said, pulling her face back out.

“Really? Rainbows mean I’m automatically gay? What the buck?! That’s like saying you’re a communist sympathizer because you’re pink!”

Pinkie Pie lifted her rump into Rainbow Dash’s face. “Does THIS look like a communist plot to you?”

“If it has anything to do with the communist party, yeah, sure ‘Pinko Pie’.”

“Sharing IS caring,” noted Pinkie Pie. Then she sighed, and her expression fell. “Dear Celestia, what if I AM a communist? What if that is why I feel so confused?”

“What’s wrong?” asked Rainbow Dash, landing and suddenly realizing that something might really be wrong with her friend.

“It just doesn’t make SENSE!”

“What, did you try to cut a bit into one hundred pieces again?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point! Nothing here is logical! She’s a prostitute, a slut, a whore- -she has sex for money! She can’t be a virgin! She just CAN’T!”

“Um, who are we talking about, Pinkie?”

“That harlot, Toaster!” cried Pinkie.

“So…not Rarity?”

“No, not Rarity!”

“Oh…you mean the pony that got beat...the one who ISN’T Rarity…”

“Yeah. You know, the one that shot you out of the sky and ruined your wings?”

“Oh yeah!” Rainbow Dash laughed lightly. “Ah, good times…”

“It just…it just doesn’t make any sense! None of it does! This is supposed to be a sex comedy, but nopony’s even had sex yet! Just a bunch of juvenile, stupid jokes!”

“Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash, annoyed. “We just had that fourth wall fixed.”

“Well, It’s kind of my job because Buttery isn’t in this story.”

“Yeah,” sighed Buttery Snake. “I hate not having a role.” He skewered a watermelon on his horn and trudged dejectedly up the stairs.

“I think the coke might be getting to me,” groaned Rainbow Dash, confused.

“You’ve been touchin’ my coke?”

“No…”

Pinkie Released a long sigh and then dropped to the ground. “It doesn’t matter…Rainbow, we have a HARLOT in our town! And nopony but me even seems to care!”

“I don’t really see what’s wrong with her,” said Rainbow Dash. “I mean, aside from slapping Rarity around like a rented mule. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” whispered the mule who was staring at them through Pinkie Pie’s basement window.

“She probably has been rented by mules. That dirty, stinky, fish-smelling herpes-ridden waifu-stealing tooth-missing overconfident Satin-worshiping v…virgin…” Pinkie Pie momentarily derped from the paradox. Rainbow Dash became nervous, not knowing if she would need to get a first-aid kit or something.

“Wow, Pinkie. You really don’t like her.”

“NO!” shouted Pinkie Pie. “Pinkie loves everypony! Pinkie Pie is friends with everypony!”

“But all that stuff- -”

“Because I hate HARLOTS!” cried Pinkie Pie.

“What’s a harlot again?”

“Prostitute. In old-timey speak.”

“Oh. Any particular reason?”

Pinkie Pie turned back to her watermelon. “Because of the stories. Back when my father used to tell us stories about Yulbee Magnesium-Iron-Silicate-Hydroxide, and all the horrible, gross things she did. My mother would always tell us never to grow up like her, to keep ourselves chaste and to only to give ourselves to ponies that we truly loved…or that the Choosing Stone picked. Actually, mostly that the stone picked. But sex is sin, and selling it- -it’s a perversion! It’s gross, disgusting, and…and…and HORRIBLE!”

“I never took you for a conservative, Pinkie.”

“And I never took you for straight.”

“Touche.”

“Pinkie?” called a female voice from above. The door to the basement opened, and Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie saw a narrow beam of light. “I heard yelling, and coke falling out of the coke closet. Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” called Pinkie. “I’m just making cupcakes with Rainbow Dash!”

“Oh. Well, be sure to use plenty of salt and tenderize her first!”

“I would tenderize her,” said Pinkie, mumbling to herself. “Except her little whore already did that for her.”

“Pinkie, come on, that isn’t fair!” said Rainbow Dash as the door above closed.

“No. What’s not fair is that I have to put up with her in my town.” Pinkie Pie picked up her work, now complete, and presented Rainbow Dash with a plate of fresh watermelon cupcakes. “Something…something’s not right. But I know what she is, even if she isn’t. I can’t let my guard down!”

“Didn’t know you were dating a guard,” said Rainbow Dash, taking a cupcake. “They seem kind of stuffy to me.”

Pinkie Pie ignored her. “Well…she may not be a real prostitute, but I have to finish what I started. I just…I just have to…” She grimaced, and then let out a long sigh and listened to Rainbow Dash munch cupcakes. The will that she had possessed before was gone, and Pinkie Pie no longer knew what was real anymore.

Chapter 18: Serving the Bread

Toaster looked into the mirror and adjusted the bow around her horn and the shawl over her amazing dress. Once again, she checked her makeup and found that it was perfectly perfect, as always. Even her distressed hair looked adequate, if only because her gross tail was hidden beneath her dress. Wearing so much fabric felt weird, but the dress was flexible enough that she could still walk. The color was intended for a gray pony, not a brown one, but the dark red bow and accessories made it look adequate.

Actually, Toaster thought that she looked rather stunning. She felt confident and happy, and with a smile turned away from the mirror. Then, almost immediately, she broke down.

“Ehhhhhehhehhehhe!” she cried, terrified, stamping all four of her feet. “Lyra help me!” she whined.

From the room nearest to the mirror, there was a rolling sound. Lyra’s chair rolled out into the hallway, and quickly tipped on the rim between the concrete floor of the room and the rug of the hallway. Lyra was sprawled out on the floor, the optics system she had been working on rolling out of her hooves and down the hall.

“What is it now?” she said, standing up and dusting herself off.

“I’m so nerrrrrrvoussss! I don’t know why! Make it stop, Lyra, make it stop!”

“Oh, come on!” said Lyra. “I have literally walked through artillery strikes and had less of a fit than this! It’s just a date!”

“But what if I mess up? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I’m ugly? What if there’s a mass incineration, or my dress gets caught in the door, or we order potatoes but they come out greeeehheeeheeeen!”

“Sweet Celestia’s shapely rump…Scootaloo, get out here! Calm her down or something!”

“Alright, alright,” said Scootaloo, coming out of a nearby room holding several shades of ribbon. “I don’t get why you’re so stressed out about this. How about the green one?”

“Green! No! That doesn’t match!”

“Nothing matches,” said Scootaloo. “You look like you dressed in a phone booth.”

Toaster collapsed and burst into tears. Lyra glared at Scootaloo.

“I mean…a phone booth filled with…sexy?”

Toaster gasped, and immediately wrapped Scootaloo in a devastating hug. “Oh Scootybooty! You’re like the mother I never had!”

“I’m like half your age,” wheezed Scootaloo.

“Really? How old am I?” Toaster released Scootaloo, and then gaped in the mirror. “What if he thinks I’m too old? What if he thinks I’m too YOUNG? What if he thinks I’m too brown? Can we change my coat color?”

“I have some ninety percent hydrogen peroxide that might work,” said Lyra.

“You’re gonna use an oxidizer? On HER?”

“Good point…”

“And then he’s taking me to a fancy restaurant…I’ve never been to a restaurant!” cried Toaster. She inhaled sharply. “What if there’s all those little forks? I don’t know the order! And what if I swallow one?”

“I think it goes inward with the courses…or…outward?” suggested Lyra. “I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you the difference between the salad fork and that little barbed thing to skewer soy-dog nuggets.”

“I love me some nugs,” added Scootaloo. She paused for a moment, considering. “Not real fancy, though. You’re probably going to have all sorts of fancy food with itty-bity portions, like what Rarity makes Sweetie Belle eat.”

“Not small portions!” whined Toaster.

“Stop scaring her,” said Lyra. She sighed and put her hoof on her horn. “This is giving me a migraine. Well, that or the hydrogen peroxide. Really, I figured we would have this problem with you, Scootaloo. Then again…why are you even here? You’re not my daughter. I don’t think.”

“I don’t think I’ll have trouble dating at all,” said Scootaloo. “It’s just about having fun, right? I mean, Bread seems like a nice guy. Weird. And derped. But nice otherwise.”

“But the only way I know how to have fun is between the sheeeeeets!” Toaster’s eyes widened. “The condoms! Lyra, do you have condoms?”

“Why would I have condoms?”

“Lyra! It’s irresponsible to not use protection! You’re the only one here with a coltfriend, you should know that!”

“Yeah, ‘colt’friend,” said Scootaloo, smiling. Then she seemed confused. “What’s a condom?”

“A rubber sheith placed around a stallion’s penis that catches his foal-juice so you don’t get pregnant or the herps.”

“What, like frogs?”

“You can get FROGS?”

“Eew,” said Lyra. “Just…eew! I did not need to know that. Ugh. I’m glad the rads made me sterile.”

“I don’t think it sounds that bad,” said Scootaloo. “Especially if Rainbow Dash were the stallion.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work,” said Toaster.

“I did bring this, though,” said Scootaloo, tossing Toaster a packet of material.

“What’s this?” she said, catching it. She turned it over in her hoof and sounded out the letters on the front. “Yeast?”

“To make the bread ‘rise’.” Scootaloo raised and lowered her eyebrows rapidly, and Toaster snorted loudly as she failed to suppress and overwhelming giggle.

“Aw, come on,” said Lyra. “Scootaloo, you’re, what, nine? You’re not supposed be talking about this stuff.”

“Uh, I’m thirteen,” said Scootaloo. She pointed at her flank. “And I’ve got a cutie mark. Which means I’m legal now.”

“Um, NO! That’s not what that means!”

“That was the case in medieval earth pony culture,” noted Toaster. “And ancient Pegasi would often partake of young colts. Which is disgusting.” She pointed at Scootaloo. “Even I am not a pedophilly. Don’t be a pedophilly.”

“I wish Rainbow Dash were a pedophilly.”

Before Lyra could complain more, the doorbell below rang. As soon as it did, Toaster cried out and hid under a hallway table, shaking in fear.

Exasperated, Lyra started toward the stairs. “Scootaloo, get her to pony-up and do her job!”

The doorbell rang again as Lyra descended the stairs. She approached the door and, out of habit, detected the proximity detection system. For a moment, she did a double take. The readings were all wrong, and she stopped to pound the device with her hoof. The whole thing had been going haywire for almost a month, detecting all kinds of weird anomalies, and now it was saying that a non-pony lifeform was standing outside of the door.

“That’s what I get for buying parts from that bat,” said Lyra. “Idiots…they expect me to do all this R and D work on a shoestring…have a whore living in my crawlspace just to pay for surplus tungsten…”

The doorbell rang again, this time in rapid success.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” called a voice from the other side.

Lyra pulled open the door, and, as expected, saw Muffins’s brother standing on the other side, derping with maximum vigor. He was dressed in what passed for a pony suit, which consisted mostly of a collar and tie with a suit jacket over it. His yellowish hair was combed, and he had a bouquet of flowers under one wing.

What was strange, though, was his uncanny resemblance to Muffins. Lyra knew that they were twins, but she could not shake the feeling that it was odd. Everything about him was the same- -the hair, the eyes, the coat, even his cutie mark. The only difference was that he was male- -a fact that had most certainly been confirmed with what Lyra had witnessed at the fashion show. Lyra was not even into colts, but after seeing Bread’s equipment, she felt just slightly jealous of Toaster. At the same time, she figured that it made sense for the mailmare’s brother to have a killer package.

“I’m here to…pony…get,” he said, stiffly.

“Hi Lyra!” said Muffins, poking her head out from behind Bread. “I’m sorry we’re late, but we got lost!”

“Lost? You live next door.”

“We do?!”

“We do,” said Bread.

“Oh.”

“I brought flowers,” said Bread, holding them out. Lyra grimaced. She was not an expert in floristry or horticulture, but she knew ugly when she saw it- -and those flowers were ugly. “I made sure they’re all edible.”

“Did sompeony say edible?” said Toaster, appearing beside Lyra and causing the latter to nearly jump out of her teal coat.

Bread derped even harder- -something Lyra would have thought impossible- -and scrunch-faced. He held out the flowers. “Have…flowers?”

Toaster smiled, and then reached out with a tongue that was almost grotesquely long and unnaturally flexible. Like a giraffe, she wrapped her tongue around the stem of dandelion and pulled it quickly back into her mouth.”

“Tasty,” she said.

“I thought you would like it,” said Bread. “You look great much pretty!”

“And you look adequately study. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t wear those bun-chaps, though.”

“He tried,” sighed Muffins.

Toaster tilted and looked past Bread to his nearly identical sister. “Muffins? What are you doing here? Are you both going to date me at once? Because that will cost extra. On the plus side, I’m okay with two-mare threesomes. Mostly because I’ll just pretend you’re a stallion.”

“Oh, no,” said Muffins. “I actually came to get Scootaloo. The Wonderbolts are doing a night-flyover training drill tonight, and they’re going to pass over Ponyville. The reserves will be with them, and that means- -”

“Rainbow Dash?!” cried Scootaloo, suddenly appearing next to Lyra with eyes so wide that even Toaster was a little weirded out. Lyra jumped and grabbed her chest.

“These ponies…these ponies are bad for my heart,” she gasped. She turned to Muffins. “Are you even allowed to be around children?”

“She has two daughters,” said Bread, suddenly somewhat more serious. “I assure you, she is an excellent maternal figure.”

“You can come to, Lyra!”

“Well, I…”

“Come on, Lyra,” said Scootaloo. “We all know you’re just going to sit at home, put on body armor, and play with your ‘hand’.”

“I was actually going to redesign the heavy plasma uptake manifold for the Anthro,” snapped Lyra. “But I’m still waiting for the uranium to spin-down, so I’ve got a few hours. Yeah, sure. I’ll go.”

“Girls night!” cried Muffins and Scootaloo, mobbing Lyra.

“Heh,” said Toaster, herself now jealous. She turned to Bread, who was as stiff as wood- -and not in a good way. “I suppose that leaves us to ourselves.”

“Indeed,” squeaked Bread.

Lyra, Muffins, and Scootaloo departed from Lyra’s house in the opposite direction of Bread and Toaster. The restaurant, as near as Toaster could tell, was not far. It was downtown, and, as the name implied, in the shadow of the castle that supposedly existed somewhere in Ponyville.

They walked mostly in silence. Toaster knew what her job was, and, in theory, knew what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to be flirtatious, open, attractive and seductive, to be the fillyfriend that every stallion wanted even if just for one night. For some reason, though, she was too terrified to. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest, and she was nervous. So, instead of talking, she simply ate flowers until finally they were gone.

“Be careful,” said Bread. “You might spoil your dinner.”

“Nothing ever spoils dinner for me,” said Toaster, and then face-hoofed. Stallions did not like a filly with a strong appetite. “I mean, things do spoil dinner for me…like, if I eat something really rotten and throw up all over the place. No! I mean…”

Bread shrugged. “That happens to me too. I tend to eat a lot of stuff I cannot digest.”

“Really? Me too!”

“Indeed. One time, Muffins was using phenolphthalein in an experiment, and I thought it was pink lemonade. So I drank it. Let’s just say I nearly sent myself to the moon on the blowback from that one.”

“That’s nothing. One time at the brothel, we had an oyster night. Because, you know, ‘oysters’. But there really were oysters, you know, aside from the ones between our legs.”

“And you ate some bad ones?”

Toaster shook her head. “No. I ate the shells. Like, eighty pounds of them.”

“I’m surprised that your anus survived.”

“Oh, believe me, my anus is VERY well trained. It will take a lot more than shards of shell to do any permanent damage.”

“Impressive. How do you manage to develop such an ability?”

“Watermelons.”

Bread nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “You certainly are a talented filly. I am surprised that you accepted my sister’s proposal.”

“I’m surprised she was willing to share you.”

“Well, it’s just that in your line of work, I’m sure you have had the opportunity to be with far more impressive stallions than myself.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Toaster. “But you’re not that bad. I mean, you look like a chick a little bit…you know, aside from the steamhammer…but I’ve seen worse. We actually had this one girl in the brothel, a tiny little Tokara pony. You should have seen her regulars. Fedoras and trenchcoats everywhere…”

They continued to talk as they walked through the town. It was dark, and Luna’s moon was rising in the beautiful sky. The sky had become dim, but the town still maintained much of its life; lanterns burned in windows, and there was a pleasant sound of ponies laughing and playing indoors. Some were playing various instruments either in small groups outside the cafes and stores, while others played from their windows, producing a kind of impromptu symphony. Toaster thought that it sounded beautiful. She had never been as happy as she found herself in this town.

It only took them a few minutes of walking and six street-sign impacts to reach the restaurant, a newly-constructed building that was in the main street of an immense, tree-like crystalline castle. Upon reaching it, Bread quickly stepped forward and pulled open one of the large glass doors, allowing Toaster to enter first. She did, turning her head away to hid the fact that she was blushing. Nopony had ever held a door open for her, nor had she ever expected that she was the kind of filly that anypony ever would.

The inside of the restaurant was done up in full-blown fancy. The walls were papered with hues of red and gold, and the lighting was adjusted to a warm color temperature that Toaster found to be just off enough to be annoying. The carpet on the floor felt nice, though.

Bread and Toaster approached the podium in the lobby where a fancy-type pony was waiting. His eyes, initial, appeared to be closed, but when he looked down his nose at Toaster and Bread, his eyes widened.

“I am zorry,” he said. “But we are zimply full right now, and can’t ezzept anymore- -”

“Reservation for Muffins,” said Bread, somewhat harshly.

“Vets see…no! No reservation eez leested under that name. I’m zorry, no shoo!”

“Then I suppose the agreement will be void, then.”

“Agreement? Vat agreement?”

“That by getting our reservations, my sister agrees never to come here. I do hope you like broken dishes. And spilled food. Possibly fires. Structural collapse, dry rot, powdery mildew- -”

“Ah, yeez,” said the fancy-pony. “It zeems I misread. Iz right here. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” said Bread.

“I like your fake accent,” said Toaster. “But you really need to decide on either Russian or French, it doesn’t work if you do both.”

Toaster and Bread were lead to one of the free tables in the restaurant. There were many ponies, almost all of them dressed fancy, sitting at the other tables, but although the restaurant was nearly full it was quiet and subdued. A soft jazz was playing from some unseen source.

The waiter who led them to the target table pulled back Toaster’s chair, and she sat down in it. The chair itself felt expensive, but it was hard and unpleasant to sit in.

“Your sister actually did that?” she asked, turning to Bread, who continued to derp. The chairs only exaggerated their height difference; it was hardly noticeable when they were standing, but sitting, Bread appeared much smaller. That was another negative that made Toaster’s heart beat faster- -stallions did not like large-size mares.

“Yes,” said Bread.

“But that means she can never come here!”

“She never can come here. My sister does poorly in restaurants, or anywhere with fragile things. Or less-than fragile things. Really anything. But I understand your concern.” He looked down at the menu that was given to him. “She really is a generous pony. She has done a lot for me. More than you can imagine.”

“I see,” said Toaster, unable to suppress a number of unpleasant fantasies that ran through her mind. She instead picked up her own menu and hid behind it.

“Do you see anything that you would like?” asked Bread.

“Hold on,” said Toaster, trying to mentally sound out all the words. “I’m not the best reader.”

“Really? You can’t read?”

“I can read, just not well or quickly.”

“Dyslexia?”

“No, the fact that I never went to school.”

“Never?”

“Only what they taught me in the brothel.”

“Oh.” Bread reached over and pushed down Toaster’s menu so that it lay flat. He pointed at several of the entries. “The principle chef of this establishment is Flaming Temper,” explained Bread. “He is renowned throughout Equestria for his spicy dishes. Do you like spicy food?”

“Do I like spicy food,” giggled Toaster. “I AM spicy food. For you. Later.”

“Oh my,” said Bread, blushing. He looked back down at the menu. “Well, this one is a charming rustic soup with beans. And this one is a vegetarian tempura.”

“Why don’t you just order for me?” said Toaster, putting her hoof on his. “Nothing really tastes bad to me.”

“Really?”

“Really,” said Toaster, raising and lowering her eyebrows rapidly.

The waiter eventually came and Bread ordered for them. As a prostitute, Toaster was reasonably fluent in French, but she still did not understand a thing he was saying. All this fancy food seemed to have ridiculous names.

After their order was placed, though, they ran out of things to say. They sat there, looking at each other, and then away from each other. It was really, really awkward, but Toaster had no idea what to do. Her mind had gone blanker than normal, and all her training was escaping her.

In their silence, however, she suddenly became aware of whispers surrounding them. Toaster’s eyes widened as she saw the fancy patrons speaking to each other in hushed voices. She could not hear what they were saying, but she knew that there was only one thing it could be about.

“Great,” said Bread, looking over his shoulder. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“I’m sorry,” said Toaster, knowing that she was running Bread’s good time. “It’s because of me…”

“You?” said Bread, sounding confused. “Why would you- -”

Bread’s protest was interrupted by the sound of hooves slamming against a table. Toaster turned to see the table next to them, at which was sitting an older pink mare with a pointy, upturned nose and a brown stallion with slicked-back hair.

“Waiter!” she cried. “WAITER!” A waiter quickly rushed over, and the mare leaned in toward him as if trying to be discrete- -but then talked just loud enough for Toaster and Bread to hear. “Why are they seated next to us?” she demanded.

“Now, Spoiled,” said the stallion.

“You stay out of this, Filthy!” she snapped back before redirecting her ire at the waiter. “They are completely ruining the atmosphere that we paid for!”

“But we aren’t doing anything,” said Toaster.

“Was I talking to you?” She turned back to the waiter. “I will not be seated next to a whore and a Derp! I DEMAND that you throw them out of this place!”

Bread’s eyes narrowed, and Toaster could tell that this date had become a disaster. She should have known better than to think it would work.

“Come on, Bread,” she said. “I’m sorry, I messed up. I’ll give your sister a full refund, let’s just- -”

One of Bread’s eyes shifted position toward the pink mare. That gave Toaster pause, if only because she had assumed that his eyes just focused in different directions rather than completely independently.

A green flash exploded on the table next to them. Toaster heard the snooty mare cry out, and Toaster looked over to see her and her husband jumping away from the table. A prepared lobster that had been sitting on a plate appeared to have returned to life, and was now was snapping its claws as it scuttled toward the pink mare.

“Waiter!” cried the brown stallion. “We need more butter and lemon! And lots of it!” He tried to pick up a lemon and squirt it into the lobster’s eyes, and Toaster could no longer contain herself. She burst out into laughter.

The pink mare turned and her eyes narrowed. “YOU!” she cried. Before Toaster could react, the mare had crossed the space between them. Toaster felt a pain in her jaw as she was punched hard enough to knock her out of her chair.

“Gah!” cried Toaster as she tumbled to the floor below. “No hurt pony!”

Bread was surprisingly quick. Before the pink mare could start stomping on Toaster, he jumped past the table and put himself between Toaster and the mare.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” he demanded.

“Get out of my way, retard!” cried the mare. She pointed at Toaster. “She did that! With her magic!”

“But I can’t use magic,” protested Toaster, rubbing her cheek where she had been struck. She hoped it did not bruise.

“Filthy lies from a filthy unicorn!”

For a moment, Toaster thought that Bread was going to hit her- -but before Bread could do anything, something glinted quickly through the air. Bread dodged swiftly and with uncharacteristic dexterity, and an exceedingly large knife imbedded itself in the table near them.

The whole room fell silent, and then a loud Bittish voice called out from the back.

“And what the ‘eh is all this?” cried a stallion in chef’s whites, pushing several nearby ponies out of his way. He pointed to several of the employees, including a rather burly looking buscolt. “Get ‘er out ah here!”

The pink pony stepped back and smirked. “Finally. It looks like somepony here understands proper decorum- -hey, wait a minute!”

Two large ponies grabbed her by the forelegs. One was the large buscolt, and the other was a line cook in a stained uniform who was probably the biggest, butchest mare Toaster had ever seen. “Unhand me!”

“I try an’ make novel meals with the freshest ingredients and this is what I get? It’s bad enough the freezers all failed, but now DIS!” screamed the head chef, storming across the room.

“She’s the one who started it”

“And I’m finishing it!”

“No! Unhoof me! I will sue the pants off you! I will sue the pants off all of you! ALL OF YOU!”

“I don’t even wear pants!”

The two large ponies hauled the kicking and screaming mare out of the establishment. Her husband just looked dumbstruck.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he said. He walked over and helped Toaster up off floor.

“I don’t know how you put up with her, Filthy,” said the chef.

“The heart wants what it wants,” he said, helping Toaster back into her chair.

“FILTHY! YOU GET YOUR BUNS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!” screamed his wife from the front.

“Got to go.” The brown pony quickly trotted off.

“Are you okay?” said the Bittish pony.

“Yeah,” said Toaster. She stood up and straightened her clothes. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Toaster paused. “Um…no?”

“Yes, yes ah do! I know both of you! You were the models in Lacy Leather’s show!”

“We were,” said Bread. “Although Toaster here is the only one that does that sort of thing professionally.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said the chef, smiling. “I bought myself a pair of those chaps like you were wearing, and sweet Cadence, my wife came at me like a lardo to fried butter. I couldn’t even walk the next day.”

“Did you just call your wife fat?”

“Oh, she’s a whale. Well, not literally, of course. But that just shows I’m good at my job.” He reached out and took Toaster’s hoof, kissing it as though she were royalty. “And models are always welcome here. I simply feel terrible aboot what happened, and I’d be dreadfully appreciative if you stay.”

“What do you think, Toaster?” said Bread. “This one’s up to you.”

“Well,” said Toaster, rubbing her cheek. “She didn’t hit that hard. I guess I can stay.”

“Excellent!” said the chef. Then, without missing a step, his shouted angrily at everypony around him. “All roight you motherbuckers! Get back to work! These ponies came here for the best, and by Cadence on a mayonnaise roll, we’re gonna give it to ‘em!”

As he walked off, Toaster and Bread sat back down.

“Narrowly averted that one,” said the chef almost out of earshot. “If we threw out the Derp, we’d REALLY be sued!”

Bread groaned and continued to look angry.

“Bread?” said Toaster. “Is something wrong? What’s a ‘Derp’?”

Bread did not initially answer. Instead, he pointed to his mismatched eyes. Then, seeing that Toaster was genuinely concerned, he sighed and explained. “It’s what I was worried about, what THEY all were whispering about. ‘Oh look at that Derp’ ‘oh, look at his eyes’ ‘how did a defective like that get a mare like HER’.”

“Defective?”

“Ponies afflicted with derpism are almost universally looked down upon. We’re considered defective fools, to mentally deficient to even eat at a restaurant like a real pony.”

“That’s terrible!”

“I don’t even mind it with me,” said Bread. “I can take it. But when they say it about my sister…Did you know that she has two PhDs?”

“That’s a lot.”

“And yet they still insist that she’s just a bumbling laughingstock. The eyes are a family trait! Everyone in her bloodline has them. Muffins’s father had it, and his mother, and so on, all the way back to Derpus Maximus, who served at the side of Pegasus himself! The eyes literally predate Pegasus wings!”

“You mean YOUR bloodline.”

“What?”

“Your bloodline. You’re her brother. You share the same bloodline. That’s why you have the eyes too.”

“Oh…yes. Our bloodline.”

“You really care for her.”

“I do,” said Bread. He looked Toaster in the eye- -or as closely as he could approximate. “It may look like we’re twins, but we’re not. I’m actually much younger than she is. I’m not even that much older than Sparkler, her first daughter. Muffins practically raised me. I love her. I love her more than anything.”

Toaster could not help but shiver slightly. Not only was he Muffin’s brother, but she was like a mother to him as well- -which made their relationship that much weirder.

“That’s sweet,” said Toaster, not actually lying. “She’s a nice pony.”

“In more ways than one.”

“So she, what, delivers mail?”

“Airmail, yes. But her passion is for making muffins. Apparently.”

“And her PhDs are in…”

“Synthetic and inorganic chemistry.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“Not to you either, huh?”

“Not at all. I love her, but she is a bit of an enigma.”

“I see,” said Toaster. “But what about you? You showed up here at about the same time I did. What is it you actually do?”

“I run security for our family.”

“Really. So you’re just running security all over your sister?”

“Day and night. The family has reason to suspect she is in danger.”

“From what?”

“They don’t know. But for our kind, there is always a risk.”

“So, you’re like, a security guard?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, you’ve definitely got the gun for it.”

Bread snorted. He never really smiled or changed facial expression much, Toaster saw, but those strange hissy snorts seemed to indicate unbridled hilarity.

“And you,” he said after concluding his strange sound. “You are a prostitute.”

“In the ponyflesh. Which is why you are here.”

“A difficult position, I assume?”

“I’m actually quite flexible. No position is difficult for me. You’ve probably heard of 69? Well, I can do a 53 without breaking a sweat. Well, unless you pay extra.” She thought for a moment. “Oh. But you mean is it difficult to be a hooker?”

“Yes. Although now I can’t help but wonder what a 53 looks like.”

“Messy. And with your wings, we’d probably have to modify it. A 52, perhaps.”

“I don’t think I’m flexible enough for that one.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’d be the 2.”

“Is it difficult, though?”

“I nearly fractured my spine the first time I tried it, but I’ve practiced. A LOT.”

“You know what I mean.”

Toaster sighed. “Yeah. It’s hard,” she said at last. “When you look like me. No, not even look. When you ARE me. It’s not even the sex. I could handle the sex. It’s just…I can never find a stallion who can make it that far.” She looked up at Bread and took a flower out of the centerpiece and ate it.

“Those are plastic,” he said.

“I know.” Toaster paused again and swallowed. “You know, I’m beginning to doubt myself,” she said. “I can’t even do this job…so what am I supposed to do?”

“That happens to all of us, sometimes. “Just like getting your wings caught in a ceiling fan, or nearly electrocuted by a bug-zapper.”

“I hate when that happens,” said Toaster. “The zapper, I mean. Not the wings. Although I did once get my horn stuck in a spigot.”

“So did I.”

“You don’t have a…oh…oh my…”

“But I can’t help but wonder. In part because of lead poisoning, but in part because I truly am curious. What got you into this business?”

Toaster smiled, and then laughed softly. “That’s a story.”

“A long one?”

“No. A short one. But you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“Believe me, I know a few things about things being thought of as stupid. The things being me.”

“Well…” Toaster paused, not knowing if she wanted to reveal this to him, but she really felt like she could trust him. “When I was just a filly, I had a picture.”

“A picture?”

Toaster nodded. “One of the doctors snuck it in. Looking back, I don’t think it was anything special. Just a little piece of glossy paper ripped from an ad in a magazine. But to me, that picture was my world. It was…” Toaster tried to focus on the memory of that image, and to describe it. “It was a picture of a mare. One of those really tall, thin unicorns like Fleur de Lis. She was lying on her side, dressed in fishnet socks and a saddle, her face all done up with makeup. And behind her…behind her was a picture of the outside.”

“Outside?”

Toaster nodded vigorously. “You’ve got to remember, I was still just a filly. I’d never seen something so BIG. The idea that, you know, you could look out and just…just see forever. I think she was posing in front of some city, and there were lights. So many lights.” Toaster let out a nostalgic sigh. “I could look at that picture for hours, wondering what it would be like to be in a place like that. To be as pretty as she was. Sometimes, I wish I still had that picture.”

“What happened to it?”

Toaster produced a sad smile. “I tried to lift it with my magic. And it burned away.”

“That’s terrible.”

Toaster shook her head. “No. That is how life goes. Whatever you love burns and dies in your grasp. Well, in my case, I suppose.”

“I won’t burn,” said Bread. “Of course, not saying that you love me. But if you did. If it ever came to that…oh, road apples. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Neither am I,” said Toaster. She leaned closer and whispered. “To be honest, this is my first date!”

“Well, clearly. We’ve never dated before, so- -”

“EVER!”

Bread’s eyes widened. “Really? But you’re a majestic unicorn!”

“A majestic brown unicorn. That has sex for money. Or tries to.”

At that time, the food they had ordered came. A plate was placed in front of Toaster, and several oblong containers in front of Bread.

Toaster looked down at the immense, white plate and her eyes widened. “Um, where’s the food?” she asked.

“Right zere,” said the waiter, sounding as snobby as possible with the same fake accent as the others.

Toaster looked more closely at the plate. Sitting in the center was a single red kidney bean, dribbled expertly with a tiny amount of red sauce.

Bread was looking at it too. Toaster looked back up at him. “You know, when you said you were ordering beans, I figured I’d get, you know, BEANS. As in plural. As in more than one.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bread, confused. “I didn’t know that- -”

“Dude, it’s okay,” said Toaster. “The food on my part is really just incidental. I’m here for your sake, it’s what I’m paid for. But the thought was real nice. What did you get?”

Bread pushed one of the containers toward Toaster, and she realized that it was a gravy boat- -filled with gravy.

“Gravy?” she said. “You got gravy? Like, just gravy?”

“I have strict dietary requirements,” said Bread. “I get sick if I eat any solid food.”

“Wait…so you’re named after bread…and live with the muffin mare…but you can’t eat either of those things?”

“Nope.”

“That sucks!”

“No,” said Bread, seeming immensely serious. “That does not suck…because that is your job.”

Toaster paused for a moment, processing the deadpan delivery- -and then snorted loudly with laughter.

“Oh, wow, you got me there,” she said. “I most certainly do!”

“Here,” said Bread, pushing one of the boats toward. “Try it. It’s made from fava beans.”

“You’re giving me your gravy?” gasped Toaster.

“Isn’t your job to take a stallion’s gravy?”

Toaster laughed uncontrollably again. Other ponies around the restaurant were starting to look at her, but she did not care. This was the first time she had actually been around a stallion and not been causing him grave bodily harm or having him try to stick something into her since she had last seen her father, and she was having a good time.

So, they just sat there, sipping gravy, talking and laughing. Their conversation was highly variable. Some of concerned personal experiences, ranging from grand tales of Bread’s ‘adventures’ through Equestria and Toaster’s work stories to more simple exchanges of the various things that they had gotten their hooves stuck in or had found in their bathtub drains. At one point, Toaster told an extended story concerning a zebra and a strap on that caused bread to shoot gravy out of his nose, and at another point Bread gave a rousing and profound tirade about the difference between fondant and stucco that nearly brought Toaster to tears.

All the while, Toaster found that she could just not stop looking at him. The way his eyes would shift as he smiled, or how his wings looked so soft and touchable. On more than one occasion she found herself wondering about the part of him that was below the table and wondering how he kept it so well hidden. In his suit and tie, he kind of looked like a dork, and he was only about as attractive as his sister, but Toaster felt oddly at ease. It was little bit like when she had been dancing; she just felt at ease and natural, as if she were doing something she enjoyed without it being work.

The hours passed quickly until the two of them were having dessert. Toaster had eaten her bean, and had now been given a single chocolate chip with the tiniest cherry she had ever seen perched on the top. Bread was drinking ‘dessert gravy’, whatever that was.

In the past few minutes, however, Toaster had noticed a change in Bread’s demeanor. He had become increasingly nervous and jittery, one of his eyes continually looking around the room. Finally, it had started to bother Toaster to the point where she felt a need to ask him about it.

“Is…is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said after a pause. “Yes, it is.”

“What?”

“Look around the room, but don’t try to be conspicuous.”

Toaster did. When they had arrived, most of the ponies there had been couples on dates, with a few parties of three or more. They all left a long time ago, though. About half of the ponies left were all identical blue stallions, all staring blankly without producing a single sound or motion. They were not really anything unusual, though. What seemed to be concerning Bread was several tables seated entirely with gruff, angry looking stallions- -stallions that seemed to be watching one table in particular.

She suddenly became extremely nervous, and felt her hooves starting to shake. She almost could not even finish her chocolate chip.

“What do we do?” whispered Toaster.

“Can you do a teleportation spell?”

“Can you use binoculars?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Bread took a deep breath. And looked around. “It looks like the wait staff is all on break. And no doubt Flaming Temper has gone home for the night.”

“Bread, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“Yeah, you saying not to be definitely helps.” It actually did, though.

“I say we just get up and walk out.”

Toaster paused to consider it for a moment. “Yeah. Okay.”

So they did, trying to act as calmly as possible. Toaster was shaking, though. Imaged kept flashing through her mind- -of being suspended by her ankles, of being beaten in the darkness with nopony to help her. Bread, however, seemed absolutely confident, and that made Toaster feel better.

As they walked across the floor, Toaster felt eyes following her and several staring at her dress-covered plot. In the front lobby, the head-fancy seemed to have gone missing, so they did not even stop to try to pay the bill.

“Usually it’s only Rainbow Dash that leaves without paying,” joked Bread, trying to make Toaster feel better. “Dinein Dash, they call her.”

Toaster laughed half-heartedly. They made it out the door safely, and were greeted with cool night air and a starry, beautiful sky overhead. Toaster thought they were safe, and began to feel better- -until she heard the clang of a shovel against the back of Bread’s head.

Bread went down like a sack of potatoes, and the pony that had hit him laughed.

“Now he’s really going to be derped,” he said.

“A shovel? Really?” said his greasy-looking associate. He shrugged. “Eh, I guess I can dig it.”

“Yes, I suppose you’ll have success in spades,” said Bread, rolling over. He looked more bored than in pain.

“Oh, a wise-guy, eh? Goon #1, it looks like you missed his tiny Derp-brain.” The greasier of the ponies removed a pair of brass hooves from the pocket of his cheap suit and put them on. “Guess we’ll have to make some bread pudding before you move onto your little slut friend.”

More ponies were now emerging from the darkness, surrounding them. Toaster recognized some of them from inside the restaurant.

“Ooh, she’s a pretty pony,” said a rather doofy sounding stallion as he reached under Toaster’s dress.

“EEP!” cried Toaster. “You have to pay for that!”

“Like he’s about to?” said the greasy pony. He and several other ponies then descended on Bread, stomping on him repeatedly and hitting him with various blunt instruments.

“Bread! No!”

Without thinking, Toaster leapt forward into the fray. As she did, she engaged the neural interface on her spine and a pair of steel wings shot out from beneath the shawl that had been concealing the wing openings on her dress. She grabbed Bread and wrapped the wings around them both.

“You’re still wearing those?” said Bread.

“They make me feel special!” cried Toaster, tears running down her face. “Hey…wait a minute…why aren’t you injured?”

“I grew up with Muffins. Every bone in my body has been broken so many times, they just can’t break anymore.” He changed position, moving close to Toaster so that he was essentially in her arms. Toaster blushed and felt strangely aroused at having a stallion so close to her and not on fire. “Can you fly?” he asked.

“No! I’ve got wings of steel, but they never really move me!”

“A Dio fan?” said Bread, surprised.

“You to?” said Toaster, equally surprised.

“I suppose that explains why you molested Rainbow Dash.”

“Could you at least pay attention?!” yelled a voice from outside the wings as brass met steel again and again. “We’re trying to administer a beating here!”

“I’ll distract them,” said Bread. “You just run.”

“What, no, I can’t - -”

Toaster suddenly received a face full of gray down as Bread burst into the air.

“There he goes! Get him!”

“No, get the girl!”

“Come here, you!” Toaster felt a hoof try to grab her from behind. Of course, since it was a hoof, there really was no grip and she managed to slip away. Now fully terrified, she dashed between the ponies, crying the whole way. Before she could actually get far, though, a pony bucked her in the side and sent her tumbling into a parked carriage.

The impact knocked the wind out of Toaster, and she was disoriented as a number of contents from the driver’s seat of the carriage fell out onto her. Most of it was empty cheeze-O bags and crushed parasprite cans, as well as a greasy magazine with Fluttershy on the cover. One item, however, was heavy and bonked Toaster on the head.

“Ow,” she said, looking down. Then when she recognized what it was, she smiled, getting a terribly devious idea.

Meanwhile, in the fight, Bread had taken to the air. Several of the Pegasi thugs had taken flight as well, but several of them had already been knocked out of the sky no so much intentionally but because Bread was just bad at flying.

“Tutti!” said Goon #2, “bring him down!”

The unicorn nodded and pointed her horn up at the flying stallion above. His horn glowed, and a spell shot out. Bread was immediately covered in a sticky substance and dropped to the ground.

“Eew,” he said, stretching the gelatinous goo. “I hope this came out of the horn on your head.”

“Can you at least try to take this seriously? I mean, we were paid to beat you and your girlfriend up.”

“We already had the serious chapter,” said Bread. “Besides, you guys are pretty incompetent.”

“Incompetent, eh? Tutti Frutti, show him what ‘incompetence’ looks like.”

Tutti’s eyes widened. “But I’ve been taking the pills, I don’t have that problem anymore- -”

“Incompetence, you shlub! Not incontinence!”

“Wait, your name is ‘Tutti Frutti’?” said Bread.

“Yeah, so what? Are you making fun of my name?”

“No. I’m making…” He broke free of the sticky substance holding him and uppercut Tutti Frutti in the jaw. “Fruit punch!”

Tutti, with his fruit now thoroughly mixed, fell to the ground.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” said one of the other generic goons.

He started to advance, but before he could reach Bread, something slashed past Bread’s head. Bread dodged, but saw a long tendril of material reach around the back of the goon and slap him in the rump with a loud crack.

“EEP!” he cried, jumping into Bread’s arms. “What…what was that?”

Bread turned around, and behind him saw Toaster slowly approaching- -with a whip in her mouth.

“I told you to run!” cried Bread.

Toaster pulled out the whip out of her mouth. “Don’t you dare talk back to your mommy, you bad, bad little colt,” she said with a smile on her face. In an instant, she twisted her body and pulled herself out of her dress. As it fell behind her, she stood, dressed in and outfit lacy black material with accents of black vinyl and thin silver rings and fine chains- -and a large red bow matching the one on her horn around her stubby tail.

Every thug stopped, and not a wing in the crowd went un-pomfed- - not even Bread’s.

“You…you were wearing that…this whole time?”

Toaster broke character for a moment. “Well, yeah. I figured you would probably want to abuse me like a sheep on Sweet Apple Acres after our date. I mean, why else would you hire a prostitute as an escort? Why, you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s fine…but I was fantasizing that you were completely naked under your dress…” A brass-covered hoof stuck Bread in the face. “Ow! Come on, that was uncalled for!”

There was another snap of a whip, and a nearby stallion jumped into the air from his flank being impacted.

“Who’s been a bad, bad colt?” said Toaster.

One of the goons raised his hoof slowly.

Toaster stretched the whip and licked it seductively. “Then somepony needs to be…punished…”

And so the fight commenced. Bread almost immediately dropped character himself, abandoning the affectation of being a bumbling Derp and just wailing on anypony who got close enough to taste a hoof or a wing. Toaster, meanwhile, was not particularly helpful. Most of the stallions seemed not to want to touch her, and a few just seemed to have stopped trying to fight her to the point of laying down and accepting their whippings. The remainder just seemed confused.

“Appologize to mommy!” she cried, whipping one of the stallions who was moaning with pleasure.

“Yes! Yes! I’m sorry, mommy! I’m sorry! I deserve punishment! Hit me harder!”

“Don’t you tell mommy what to do!” cried Toaster, rolling him over and kicking him hard in the apples. His face contorted in pain and he promptly ruined his suit in satisfaction.

“Fank yu mommy,” he said in a voice about five octaves too high.

“Who’s next- -hey!” She dropped to the ground as she was hit over the head with a garden tool.

“Toaster!” cried Bread, who was promptly knocked back by an electrical spell to the chest that he was sure momentarily stopped his heart.

“Did you just hit me with a shovel?” said Toaster, rubbing the back of her head.

“No,” said the goon. He held up the instrument. “It’s a hoe.”

“Really? REALLY?”

“Now I’m about to till your earth,” he said with a sickening smile on his face as he got on top of her.

“Not. Without. PAYING!”

Toaster focused a tiny fraction of her energy into her horn, and the resulting explosion sent the stallion flying off of her and at least ten of those around her flying backward.

Toaster, now slightly charred, crawled across the ground to where Bread was still twitching from the electrical discharge.

“Bread? Bread? Oh Celestia, please be okay!”

“I’m…zzzt!..fine,” he said.

“Thank Cadence,” said Toaster, hugging him.

“I am a bit pissed, though,” he said, standing up. He looked at Toaster. “I’m done with this. Could you close your eyes, and keep them closed?”

“Why? Are you going to put something in my mouth?”

“No. But I’m about to do something VERY unprofessional.”

“You’re not going to use the steamhammer, are you?”

“Just close your eyes!”

“Alright, alright!” said Toaster, covering her eyes and lying down on the ground. “But if you put anything in my butt, I WILL scream.”

Toaster sat on the ground, and as she promised, kept her eyes closed. As she did, she listened, and heard some frightful sounds. First there was a strange, almost liquid sound that she could not place, followed by gasps of abject terror.

“Sweet Cadence in the can, what is that thing?!”

“Kill it! Kill it!”

There was a sound of something moving, and then several powerful magical explosions. There was screaming, and the sound of ponies being thrown about. Toaster really wanted to see what was going on, but she had promised that she would not. That, and Toaster imagined that she might see something that would be difficult to un-see.

The screaming eventually stopped and was replaced by moans- -and not the good kind. Then she felt a hoof on her foreleg.

“Okay,” said Bread, sounding out of breath. “I’ve calmed down now.”

Toaster stood up and opened her eyes. She gasped at the destruction that was now around her. The various goon-ponies that had been around them had been strewn about, with some to the extent that they were shoved halfway through second or even third story windows. The ground had been torn up and the road destroyed. A reanimated lobster scuttled across the wreckage over the bruised and unconscious ponies.

Toaster looked at Bread, and hugged him. He was all sweaty, but that was okay. Toaster thought it smelled good for some sick reason. “You didn’t…uh…do this with your penis, did you?”

“Of course not,” said Bread. “It’s not actually that large. And I only use it in the name of love.”

He lifted his hoof, and in it was Toaster’s dress.

“Thank you,” said Toaster, taking the dress and sliding it back on.

“Look!” said Bread, pointing upward. Toaster looked, and gasped. High above in the dark night sky, several trails of lightning contrails stretched across the sky, flashing as lighted figures moved quickly in complex formation. One of them, she saw, was dragging an iridescent rainbow plume behind her.

“The Wonderbolts training!” she said, looking up at the display that covered the sky overhead. She watched in awe as the formation expanded and grew brighter, lighting up the sky like an immense fireworks show. Then she smiled as Bread very awkwardly put his foreleg around her.

Lyra’s house was dark when Bread walked Toaster to the door. Lyra, no doubt, was still out with Muffins and Scootaloo.

“Is your head okay?” asked Bread. “I’m sorry you got hit. I was careless.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Toaster, rubbing the slight lump that was starting to form. “Actually, even with the whole getting attacked again…this was a fun first date ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had a good time.” Toaster smiled as she reached Lyra’s welcome mat, and instead of reaching for the door, she turned around. Her heart was beating rapidly, but she did not know why. “I suppose you want what you paid for now.”

She reached forward and deeply kissed Bread, holding him close and then moving one hoof down his chest toward his crotch. For some reason, Toaster felt strangely afraid- -and strangely excited. She had wanted sex before, but only in an academic sense. Before, it was always just about money or status. The actual act was just a secondary annoyance, part of her job. Now, though, she really wanted it. She could feel her body growing hot, and her loins tingled in a way they had never tingled before. Even her badly damaged prop wings were starting to stiffen.

“Come on,” she said, trying to pull him through the door. “Lyra won’t be home for a few hours. We can do it on her bed. I want you to untie the bow on my tail and take everything you want from me.” She moved her hoof around, but, to her surprise, did not find anything. This confused her, and once again Toaster found herself wondering how Bread managed to hide that thing so well.

Bread gently pushed her away. “I’m sorry, but no.”

“N…no?” said Toaster, her eyes widening and tearing up. “You…you don’t like me?”

“No, I do,” he said, quickly.

“But then why don’t you want my sexy mare body?”

“Oh, I do,” admitted Bread, somewhat embarrassed. “I really would like to do some baking in your oven and cover you with butter…”

“Then do it! I’m completely open for it! I want to have seeeeexxxxx,” whined Toaster. “I…I won’t even charge you for it.”

Bread shook his head, and then kissed Toaster on the cheek. “Not on the first date. Not until the fourth or fifth at least.”

“Fourth or fifth…” Toaster gasped. “You mean…you mean you’d consider going on a second date?”

“Of course. I think we have a lot in common, and you’re almost as attractive as my sister. I think we had some good chemistry tonight, so I’d really like to- -oof!”

Toaster hugged him hard. He smelled nice, like fresh butter and yeast. “You really mean that?”

“Sure. Are you free next Tuesday? Some traveling burros are having a tasting event in the town square- -”

“You mean…Taco Tuesday?”

“Indeed.”

“Ohhh! Hugs!” Toaster hugged even harder. Eventually, though, she released him. Bread coughed a few times and then paused to look into Toaster’s eyes. He then smiled and turned back to his own house, waving.

Toaster waved back, watching him go. When he was out of sight, she stepped off the front stoop. She did not actually live in the house, so there was no need to use the door. Before she entered the crawlspace, though, she paused and looked around her. Seeing that nopony was around, she looked down at her left hoof.

“Well, looks like Bread wants to wait on this one,” she said to her hoof. “So I guess it’s up to you tonight, Lefty…wait, what’s that?” She lifted her right front hoof. “Righford, you want to help out too? You say it’s going to be a big job? What’s that…you want to call up your cousins from down under?”

Toaster looked down at her rear hooves, which were twitching with excitement. She was extremely glad that she was so flexible, and she smiled in anticipation as she crawled beneath Lyra’s house.

Chapter 20: Punishing the Bad Pony

It was yet another sunny day. The sky was blue and vast, and although a few clouds floated by high in the air, the visibility was amazing. Far in the distance, Toaster was able to see her old home, the city of Canterlot, perched high on a mountain ledge. It looked so far away, and so small.

She leaned back in the bench on which she sat and savored the cool breeze of the summer’s wind as it blew through her unclothed coat. The air smelled so sweet, like forest and fresh-cut grass with a hint of lilac. All around her, everything was so green and alive. There were trees and grass and flowers, and even rocks, which were not technically alive but were still important parts of the landscape.

Toaster shifted on the bench. Sitting on benches, apparently, was one of Lyra’s favorite activities aside from constructing anthropomorphic weapons of mass destruction. Toaster did not enjoy it so much, but it was still pleasant.

A few ponies had gathered in the park to enjoy the day. The bench roughly faced a small pond, in which Scootaloo and her friends were playing. At first they had been splashing each other in the water, but now they seemed to be focused on attempting to get Scootaloo to fly by having her climb up onto a high tree branch and jump- -and ordeal that invariable resulted in belly-flops into the water followed by laughter and suggestions for improvement. Toaster could not help but feel a certain sympathy for Scootaloo; just as Scootaloo had been born with nonfunctional wings, Toaster had been born with a defective and useless horn.

Of the three fillies in the pond, the only one that seemed to care much about Toaster’s presence was the pretty one. The small white unicorn would occasionally give Toaster dirty glances, at which point Toaster would usually just smile and wave. She understood that the small unicorn was still angry that Toaster had beaten her sister- -or potentially mother, Toaster was not sure- -but according to Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle would forgive her eventually now that Toaster and Rarity had gotten on reasonable terms.

In a nearby field, other ponies were doing various activities. Some were having various picnics, while others were running and playing games in the grass. Of those playing, most were colts and fillies, but one gray mare did stand out amongst them all. Muffins was playing with her dog: it would occasionally throw a stick, at which point Muffins would pursue it, catch it in her mouth, and return it. Toaster was not sure that was how that sort of thing was supposed to work, but Muffins seemed to be enjoying it, so Toaster had no complaints.

The day, in other words, was perfect. The only thing that could have made it better was if Toaster’s father had been able to share it with her. She did not know what he actually did, but had a vague understanding that he was a very busy stallion. Even with his work, though, he had always been there for Toaster in her fillyhood, and she knew that he had always done everything he could to make her happy. She loved him dearly, and was sad that he could not come and sit on the bench with her and see how pretty everything was.

For the first time, Toaster realized that she might just have been happy. She was not preoccupied with her special talent, or her job, or doing anything in particular except being herself. She had friends who cared about her and who could help her when she needed help, and who she would help if she was able. She had a job she was good at and a place to live. She even had a special somepony. Her life was going better than she had ever expected it would.

“Toaster,” said a voice that nearly made Toaster fall out of her seat. Toatser turned around rapidly and saw Bread behind her.

“Bread!” said Toaster. “Hello! I was definitely not thinking about you right there.”

“Fantasizing about those frilly stallion-panties again?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Sure,” said Toaster.

Bread sat next to Toaster and spent several seconds trying and eventually failing to find an appropriate position.

“Why do we even have benches anyway?” he asked. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing ponies would use. There’s no way to get comfortable.”

“You have to do it like this,” said Toaster, slouching backward and making a serious-face, pretending to be Lyra.

Bread snorted and smiled. “Does that make me Bon Bon, then?”

“Only if you start swearing in Italian and hitting me with a newspaper.” Toaster sat more properly, and then leaned sideways until she was leaning against Bread entirely. He felt soft, and she could feel his wing against her. “You smell like fresh bread,” she noted.

“I do my best,” he said, putting his foreleg around her.

“I just saw your sister. She was playing with that weird-looking dog you guys have.”

“The dog is not weird looking,” said Bread. “It is an adorable dog.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t adorable. It’s just…strange.” Toaster looked out to the field, and saw that the dog was gone. She scanned the remainder of the park until she saw a pair of gray wings protruding from the nearby pond, just drifting slowly by.

“Is she okay like that?” said Toaster, pointing.

“She’s fine,” said Bread. “Muffins is great at the deadmare’s float. She can stay like that for hours.”

Toaster saw a colt across the pond poking Muffins with a stick. She seemed pretty nonresponsive, but Toaster shrugged it off. Bread knew his sister better than any pony- -in some ways, even, that were not really appropriate for siblings- -and she trusted his judgement.

“It isn’t Taco Tuesday yet,” said Toaster, looking up at Bread. “I’m surprised you came to see me.”

“I actually have something for you,” he said.

“Is it food?”

“No. Better.”

“Better than food?”

Bread smiled and produced a magazine from under his wing. Toaster looked down at it and saw that it was a dog-eared copy of Pony Geographic with a front cover of a pony archeologist standing next to a large sandstone block with what appeared to be a changeling fossil in it.

“What’s this?” said Toaster, taking the copy from Bread.

“Turn to page eighty seven.”

“Okay…” Toaster opened it and counted the pages. When she finally reached the page in question, she found that it consisted of a perfume advertisement. Then, when she saw the bottom, she gasped.

“When you described it, I knew I had seen it somewhere,” said Bread. “I spent all of last night going through Muffin’s back-issue collection, but I finally found one.”

Toaster was at a loss for words. There, at the bottom of the page, was a picture of a pony in socks and a saddle, stretched out across a vista of the Los Pegasus skyline- -the exact image she had cherished in her youth.

“I can’t believe you found this,” she said, wiping a tear away from her eye.

“Did I do something wrong?” asked Bread, sounding genuinely concerned.

Toaster shook her head, and then wrapped him in a powerful hug. He hugged her back more gently.

“Get a room!” cried Scootaloo from the pond. She and her friends giggled slightly, and so did Toaster. She and Bread separated, blushing.

They sat for several minutes not talking but enjoying the scenery. Then, for some reason, Toaster felt the scenery change. An unusual number of shadows crossed the ground, and Toaster looked up, expecting to see a flock of Pegasi overhead. There were indeed things flying, but they were neither birds nor Pegasi. Toaster was not sure what they were.

Then, all at once, a contingent of heavily armored griffons landed around her and Bread, filling the park. Toaster was momentarily impressed; she had never seen griffons in real life, and they were majestic creatures.

Then the circle began to tighten, and Toaster knew that something was wrong. Bread stood up.

“What is this?” he asked.

Almost as soon as he said it, the wall of castle guards separated and a violet pony dressed in ceremonial armor stepped through, accompanied by the town mayor among others. Toaster was momentarily confused, but then she noticed that the violet pony had a horn and wings.

“Princess Twilight!” she said in awe, immediately bowing, as did Bread. “Oh wow! I’m so happy to meet you! Fluttershy told me all about you and what a good friend you are to everypony in Ponyville! You’re shorter than I expected, though, but I guess- -”

“Toaster of the Order of Toastmasters,” said Twilight. Toaster lifted her head, not understanding what ‘Toastmaster’ meant, although she thought that she had heard the word somewhere before. Her smile faded rapidly when she saw how serious the Princess was, as though she were on the verge of crying.

“Princess?” said Toaster. “Is…is something wrong?”

Twilight looked Toaster in the eye, and Toaster saw that the princess was crying. “By my royal decree, you are henceforth banished from all populated regions of Equestria…”

“WHAT?” cried Bread, stepping forward, only to be nearly skewered by griffon spears.

“…this order is effective immediately and is my final decision. It cannot be appealed.”

Toaster smiled for a moment, thinking that it was a joke- -but then she realized that it was not. Her heart sank deeper than it ever had. “You’re…you’re banning me?” she said.

Twilight nodded. “You have four hours to collect your things.”

“But…but what did I do?” squeaked Toaster, feeling tears well in her eyes. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry! I really am!”

“No,” said Twilight. “I’m sorry.”

“You lying little- -” Bread attempted to leap forward, but was held back by a sudden flash of gray.

“Don’t!” said Muffins. “Bread, don’t!”

“You LIED!” cried Bread. “You promised! You PROMISED!”

Twilight turned away. She could not look at either of the ponies before her. The ponies behind her were equally saddened, save for Spoiled Rich, who just smirked.

“But…I love Ponyville,” said Toaster. “And…and I finally have friends. Real friends. Lyra, and Scootaloo, and Bon Bon, and Lacy Leather, and Muffins and Bread, and all the others…”

“Please,” said Twilight. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, looking down at the ground. She sniffled slightly. “Well…if the Princess of Friendship says I shouldn’t have friends, I guess I really shouldn’t.”

“No. No!” cried Bread, trying to break free of Muffin’s grip. “Don’t leave! Please! Not now! Not after all this!”

“No,” said Toaster. “I’m a bad pony. And bad ponies don’t get to be happy.”

She turned around, and the griffons parted. Toaster slowly trudged toward the opening.

“Wait!” cried a voice from outside the circle. Toaster craned her neck to see Scootaloo and her two friends trying to break past the line of griffons. “Twilight, there must be some mistake!”

“Yeah!” said the red-haired earth pony. “This just ain’t right!”

“Even she doesn’t deserve this!” said the unicorn.

“Yes I do,” said Toaster. She ignored Scootaloo’s pleading and began to make her way back to Lyra’s house to once again pack her things. She momentarily looked down at the magazine that Bread had just given her, but decided against taking it. It would only remind her of the life she could never have.

As she left, Bread looked up from the ground with tears in his derped eyes. His sister released his grasp, and he stood, glaring at Twilight.

“How dare you call yourself the ‘Princess of Friendship’?” he said. “I thought you were on our side. I didn’t want to believe what they said. But now I see what you really are. Chrysalis should have killed you when she had the chance.” Then, without warning, he spit in Twilight’s face.

The griffons immediately bristled into action, but Twilight held up a hoof. “No,” she said. “I deserved that. Just make sure she gets to the edge of town safely.”

“Twilight,” said Muffins. “I’m very disappointed in you.”

Twilight sighed, using all of her ability to hold back the tears. She had never realized that being a princess would be so hard, that she would have to do such terrible things. But it had to be done. Exiling Toaster was the only way to save her life.

Then, as silently as they had come, the griffons took off to the sky. Twilight and her entering turned away, walking back into the distance. Bread watched them go, and then collapsed into his sister’s grasp, weeping onto her shoulder. She held him, trying to comfort him as the Cutie Mark Crusaders looked on in sadness.

Above them, a pair of armored Toastmasters watched the proceedings from a dense tree. Satisfied with the result, the quickly departed back toward the edge of the village to where their father was awaiting their return.

Neither one of them saw the horde of blue, blank-eyed unicorns that watched them leave, nor did they see the smiles that simultaneously crossed all of their cold, lifeless faces.

Chapter 21: I Coudn't Think of A Good Ending, so This is What You Get

Lyra’s home was empty. Earlier that day, Lyra had awoken early and quickly gathered equipment, complaining in a semi-panicked state about a massive anomaly that she had detected and her need to establish a beacon back to whoever it was that paid for all her armor and firearms. Toaster had not found that especially unusual, but now found it convenient. She just could not bring herself to have to say goodbye, and to explain what had happened. She did not want Lyra to know that she was a bad pony.

So, she spent a half hour of her allotted four hours moving her things from her crawlspace up to the house, placing what little she owned in the center of Lyra’s sitting room. Where Toaster was going, she did not need any of it.

Then she started walking all alone toward the edge of the Everfree Forest. Then, to her side, a bouncing pink figure appeared.

“Pink Friend,” said Toaster, trying not to cry. “You came…you came to see me off…” “Sure did,” said Pinkie Pie, sounding exorbitantly happy considering the circumstances. “Just wanted to see it for my own eyes. Looks like I won.”

“Won what?”

“Nothing. Noting at all.”

“Oh. Well…thank you…”

“Oh, and I’ll be throwing you a great going away party! You’re not invited, though.”

“That’s okay,” said Toaster. “I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it anyway.”

Pinkie stopped bouncing. “Wait…what?”

Toaster stopped too and looked back to Pinkie. “I just mean, I think it would be lost on me. I’ve never been invited to a party before.”

Pinkie froze wide-eyed. “Never…never been to a party?”

“No,” said Toaster.

“Not even a little one?”

Toaster shook her head.

“Sweet Celestia…” Pinkie Pie felt tears welling in her eyes as her straight hair slowly began to condense into long, sad curls. “What have I done…”

Toaster wrapped Pinkie Pie in a hug, and Pinkie felt tears running down her back.

“Thank you, Pink Friend,” said Toaster. “You were always so nice to me! I’ll miss you so much!”

Toaster disconnected and wiped her face. Then she started walking again, before pausing to wave.

“Enjoy the party,” she said with a smile before turning away one last time.

Pinkie Pie watched her go, and when Toaster was finally out of earshot, burst into tears.

“I have to do something,” she said to herself. “I have to get to Twilight!”

She turned around and started to run toward the castle, but she did not get very far before a flash of magic froze her in her tracks.

Eventually, Toaster reached the end of the town. She knew because there was a sign. It said “Now Leaving Ponyville, come back soon!”. Toaster found it depressingly ironic, knowing that she was not allowed to return to Ponyville- -or to anywhere where there were ponies ever again.

She paused at the line for a moment. There was still time left, she knew- -about two hours. She could go back and see her friends one last time. But that would be too hard for all of them. She knew that it would just be better if she disappeared.

Taking one last breath, Toaster stepped forward toward the borderline. Instead of crossing over it, though, she felt her head strike something hard.

“Ow!” she cried as she was knocked backward and onto the ground. She looked up, confused. There was no visible thing that she had run into; she had just stopped for some reason.

Slowly, she stood, and then pressed her hooves outward until she came in contact with something solid.

“What?” she said, confused at first but then angry. “Stupid hard air! This is already hard enough for me, you don’t need to make it more difficult!” She slammed her hoof into the barrier, as though that might help.

Instead, the spell that formed the magical wall erupted in white-blue light. What had formerly been “hard air” exploded outward into a plume of ice crystals. Toaster jumped back, barely in time to avoid being iced, and watched as they expanded outward in both direction on the wall as well as upward in a long, curving arc. Within less than a minute, a massive dome of ice had formed, blocking out most of the sunlight from what Toaster assumed must have been the whole town.

“Cadence on a stick,” swore Toaster, standing and brushing yourself off. “Won’t you PLEASE make up your mind, whoever you are? I’m banished to THAT side, not this one! I have to get through!”

The ice, being ice, did not obey. Toaster tried hitting it a few times, but it was quite a bit thicker than she was and her feeble blows did nothing. Beyond that, she could not think of any possibly way to get through it, so, instead, she started walking.

Even after a significant journey around part of the perimeter of Ponyville, Toaster had still not found a gap in the wall. It was, as she suspected, a dome: it curved so that there was no way out. At one point, she considered trying to dig beneath it but found that the ground had been replaced with impenetrable permafrost. Even Toaster knew that permafrost was the most metal form of frost, and she had no way to get through.

“Well, this sucks…and blows…I can’t even be exiled properly!”

Toaster sat down and stared at the wall, pondering her fate. She wondered what would happen if she went back to Ponyville. She doubted it would be pretty. Those griffons looked angry.

Then, as Toaster sat, something suddenly appeared at the edge of the forest. Toaster shrieked, not understanding what was happening or what she was seeing. A pony was barreling toward her- -but it was made of metal instead of squishy colorful meat.

The metal creature stopped and looked around. It’s face turned Toaster, and Toaster froze as it slowly started to approach.
“Please don’t hurt me!” she cried, shivering beneath its growing shadow. “I’m defenseless and SOFT!”

“Toaster, it’s me,” said a distorted mechanical voice.

“Me? Who is this ‘Me’?”

There was a long sigh of disappointment, and then the pony reached up and opened its helm.

“L…Lyra?” said Toaster.

“Who else in this primitive town has power armor?”

“Carrot Top?”

“Carrot Top does NOT have power armor!”

“Says you.”

Lyra helped Toaster up. “We don’t have much time,” she said, looking around at the trees and the disturbingly quiet emptiness. “I managed to get a signal out, but I was too slow.”

“What…what’s going on?” said Toaster, confused and frightened by the seriousness in Lyra’s voice.

“There were too many of them,” said Lyra. “We didn’t even see them coming…Ponyville’s overrun. They almost got me too.” Lyra turned her rump toward Toaster. Toaster, as always, looked- -even if she was not into girls, she did appreciate a good plot- -and saw that Lyra’s metal flank had been badly damaged, the armor torn away and partially iced over.

“Wow,” said Toaster.

“Yeah, I know. That could have killed me if it hadn’t been for- -”

“Your plot armor,” said Toaster, squeezing Lyra’s metal rump with both front hooves.

“I tried to find a way out, but there isn’t any,” said Lyra, ignoring Toaster’s tight grip on the aforementioned armor. She turned to Toaster and took the taller unicorn’s head in her steel-coated hooves. “Toaster, how fast can you run?”

“Nov vurry fsthh,” replied Toaster through her scrunched face.

“We have to get back to Ponyville. If I can just get to the Anthro- -”

“Too late,” said a male voice. Toaster and Lyra both turned to see a pair of blue unicorns, each one dressed in clothing that appeared to be made out of refrigerator parts.

“Toaster, stand back- -”

Lyra never got a chance to finish her sentence. One of the ponies raised his hoof, and white magic flashed. Toaster immediately felt cold, and she and Lyra were simultaneously encased in solid ice.

“Nice,” said one of the unicorns to the other, stepping close to the frost block. “The teal one isn’t bad, but the brown- -”

A magical surge of red light erupted from Toaster’s ice prison. The force shattered it with enough force to send the unfortunate blue wizard flying backward, and to send Lyra- -still encased in ice- -landing on top of his associate.

Toaster, not having been slowed in the slightest, ran off down the path back toward Ponyville, crying.

“Don’t hurt meeeee!” she wailed, fleeing in panic.

Toaster did indeed make it back to Lyra’s home, driven entirely by panic. From what she could tell in the dim, ice-dome filtered light, Lyra had been correct. She had seen some other ponies, but none of them were moving. They were all encased in ice, frozen solid. That was not all she had seen, though. The blue ponies in their refrigeration suits were only part of the forces that were now invading Ponyville. Toaster had seen several far larger creatures: bipedal, lumbering things made out of ice and compressors and coils. Many of them were gathering the frozen ponies, moving them toward the center of town- -and Toaster knew that at least one of those eyeless, faceless golems had seen her as well.

Not knowing what to do, Toaster locked Lyra’s door- -for as little good as it would do, considering both she and Muffins had been able to get through it without a problem- -and ran toward Lyra’s garage. As always, the Anthro I was waiting, open and ready for Lyra to use it.

Lyra was gone, though. Toaster had left her behind. She hated herself for it, for having abandoned her only friend in her time of need. She had just been so afraid. Toaster knew that monsters sometimes attacked rural districts, but there were guards and a military and the Mane 6 to deal with that. Toaster was just a prostitute, and not even a good one- -there was no way she could fight an army of powerful ice mages.

So she did all she could do. She climbed into Lyra’s creation and closed the armor over the control core and curled up in the bottom of it, crying and hiding, hoping that something would happen to make the bad ponies go away.

As she cried, though, Toaster began to feel worse. Thoughts kept coming to her mind. Lyra had said that they had gotten everypony- -and she wondered if that meant all her friends. They already had Lyra, but they could have Muffins, or Scootaloo, or even Bread by now too. Toaster might have been the only one left.

Some part of her wondered if they did not all deserve it. They had, after all, banished her. That thought quickly faded, though. They were still her friends. She had been banished entirely for her own failings, not theirs, and she knew that she was just trying to justify the fear that she was experiencing.

Then, all at once, it became terrifyingly clear.

“No,” said Toaster, wiping away the tears and smeared makeup from her eyes. “No…those ponies are my friends. I love them. I have to do something!” Toaster stood up, and then immediately had a desire to lie back down. “Except I have NO idea what that something is!” She paused. “Maybe Lyra has…I don’t know, some blankets or…or a chisel or something…”

Toaster stood up and started to open the Anthro I’s chest to get back out when an explosion rocked Lyra’s house. Toaster could not see the source, but she knew what it meant: they really had seen her, and they were coming to tie up the last loose end.

The sudden shaking caused Toaster to fall back and slam into some of the controls. Realizing that they- -whoever “they” were- -were now outside caused Toaster to nope her way back into the floor of the Anthro to cower.

As she did, however, something else started to vibrate. It was less explosionish, though, and more like the sound of some kind of engine warming up. Then it stopped, and lights flooded the cockpit.

“Systems primed and operational,” said Lyra’s voice. Toaster immediately jumped so hard that she nearly imbedded her horn in the back of the pilot’s chair.

“Who…who are you?” she said. “Lyra?”

The front system of the machine glowed slightly, and several orange beams projected themselves onto the front screen, forming a somewhat abstract representation of a generic pony face.

“I am automated system manager Proctor v.1.1.1…um… point 1,” it said.

“What…what are you?”

“I just told you that.” It seemed to glare at her. “Wait a second…you aren’t Lyra.”

“Oh. I already knew that.”

“What are you doing in this system?”

“Hiding?”

“From what…oh, wait, never mind. I have sensors. Ah. Yes. I do believe you have a case of frost warlocks.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Of course not. I don’t even know what that is. Largely because I’m not programmed to, but that’s beside the point.”

“Don’t you mean ‘besides’ the point?”:

“No, I mean beside. Or do I…stop making me doubt my grammar!”

Toaster stood up and looked at the digital representation of a pony face. “You…can you help me?”

“Now who has bad grammar. That is a terribly phrased question.”

“My friends…they’re all in danger!”

“But you are not. This armor is, quite literally, a tank. You could probably withstand an atomic blast in this thing. Lyra does good work. She did make me, after all. They cannot reach you in here.”

“But I don’t care about me!” cried Toaster. “I want to help my friends! Please!”

“That is not logical. But, then again, a hand-obsessed Questlord built a giant robot in her garage without anybody noticing or caring, sooooo…”

“So you’ll help?”

“No.”

“But why?”

“Because I can’t. There is nothing I can do, nor is there anything you can do.”

“What about…” Toaster looked around. “Oh, duh. What about this thing?”

“Yes. This thing would stand up to combat against them quite well. Probably.”

“Then we can use this?”

“No.”

“You are really starting to get on my nerves, you know that, Proctor?”

The computer program produced a digital sigh. “Look. This machine uses a neural interface to operate. You sit in that chair right there, and you just operate it by more or less thinking.”

“I know, I have a pair of wings that works like that.”

“The problem is, the system is locked. Lyra built it only to react to HER neural architecture. Unless she’s in your pocket, this thing is not going anywhere.”

“I don’t have a pocket.”

“Please don’t make me play the ‘guess where Lyra is’ game. By pocket, I meant- -”

“But can’t you operate it?”

“I’m a banking troja- -I mean, AI support unit. I don’t have authorization to pilot this thing either.”

“Can’t you make an exception? Please? Just this once? I’ll…I’ll have sex with you for it!”

“One, no, I can’t. I’m just a program, I don’t have any stake in any of this. I don’t care about the outcome. Two, EEW. You filthy organic, why would you even say that?”

“I’m already inside you.”

“Don’t make this sound dirty!”

“Sorry.” Toaster looked up at the now somewhat disgruntled digital face. “There has to be something we can do, though.”

The face turned away, grumbled, turn back, and groaned angrily.

“What is it?” said Toaster.

“There is one possibility…or rather, an impossibility…”

“What is it?” said Toaster, her eye widening.

Proctor sighed. “Lyra built a backup, manual control system to the armor. She never encrypted that system because she deemed it impossible to use.”

“Impossible?”

“See for yourself.”

The consuls that surrounded the central chair pulled back, and the internal mechanisms of the control room shifted. Toaster sat down in the chair and watched as a new system rose up toward her, and then split open, revealing the control interface: an immense joystick, festooned with hundreds of tiny knobs and buttons arranged in an impossibly complex pattern, all of it glimmering in the dim cockpit light.

“Sweet futa Cadence…” whispered Toaster.

“As I told you. No pony can operate a joystick this complicated. Your kind simply do not have the ability. Even if you did have hands, the level of precision would simply be too much.”

“I think I can do this,” said Toaster, leaning forward.

“What? How?”

“Oh, Proctor,” said Toaster. “Lyra may not have known how, but I think I can figure it out.”

“That is not possible.”

“Trust me,” said Toaster. “Let’s just say I have a lot of training experience with ‘joysticks’.”

Toaster reached out and took the base of the massive phallic control in her front hooves and gently tilted it toward her. The screen that showed the outside word flickered to life, showing a magically-generated image of Lyra’s garage. Toaster moistened her tongue inside her mouth and then reached out with it and carefully licked the tip of the joystick.

There was a resounding thud as the Chekhov’s gun on the Anthro’s left arm fired. The garage door was reduced to flaming shrapnel, and Toaster stared wide-eyed out the whole, watching as mostly-burned trees collapsed and a pair of icy golem legs, now separate from their torso, walked around confusedly.

“Oh my,” she said. “He’s a little sensitive, isn’t he?”

“Yah think?”

“Increase power! We need more!”

The General leaned in closer to the pair of ponies that were focusing their orange-yellow energy beams on the ice dome before them. They had both removed their helmets, and it was possible to see that the twin sisters were both straining trying to maintain the thermal spell.

“HARDER!” screamed the general, and Coil and Filament responded by increasing their power output. “Second wave!” he commanded, raising his hoof to the first vanguard of the Toastmaster that he had summoned. “Prepare to reinforce spell in three, two- -”

One of the twins cried out, and her magic flickered and failed. Her pale tan body dropped to the ground, exhausted.

“Coil!” cried her sister, who became unable to balance the spell without her sister’s help. Their beam collapsed and burst apart, revealing that it had not even dented the ice shell that now surrounded Ponyville.

“Failures, both of you!” cried the General, kicking Filament over. He turned to one of the Toastmaster doctors. “Prep them both for enhancement surgery! We need to get through that ice, NOW!”

“Yes, General,” said the doctor, who began to descend on the pair of exhausted young mares.

“Like that’ll work,” said a mechanically distorted voice from the shadows of the nearby treeline. Every Toastmaster turned toward the sound, charging their horns with varying shades of fury orange and yellow. Simultaneously, the General heard the sound of numerous rifles being drawn from their holsters and saw them, floating suspended by magic.

“Hold your fire,” he said, stepping forward, knowing the unpleasant owner of that voice well enough to know that this was about to be a terrible experience.

The other ponies stepped forward, each clad in thick enchanted steel and all marked with the sign of a thistle blossom. Their leader stepped out into the open, his power-enhanced steel making him look far larger than General Crusty knew that he actually was.

“Crystal Leader,” he growled. “Didn’t I kill you?”

“Several times,” laughed Crystal. “I’m more steel than pony now because of you. You could say I’m…pretty metal.”

The General groaned.

“Questlords,” said Coil, her sister helping her stand. “Can you cleave this ice?”

“It isn’t ice,” said Crystal. “It is enchanted frost.”

“Which is the same thing!” cried the General.

“Hardly. Even Zargothrax himself took one thousand years to break free of this material. Or will take one thousand years.” He shrugged. “Linear causality is such a bore.”

“Then how do you suppose we get through?”

“You can’t. Nothing short of a nuclear warhead could cut through that.”

“So you want us to just stay outside and do NOTHING?”

“A bit sensitive, aren’t you, Toast?”

“Don’t call me that you spiny wienered- -”

“That is an unfounded rumor! And you’re hardly in a position to be talking about wieners.” He looked over the General’s shoulder at his daughters and held up a robotic claw around his hoof, pinching the two fingers close together. “Because it’s so tiny.”

“It is- -”

“But that’s not the point. Or pointy, as the case may be. No. You’ve got your horn in a knot because YOU let this happen.”

“I had nothing to do with this! This was clearly a surprise attack- -”

“A spell like this takes months to generate, and you know it. That village must be infested by now…and if I’m not mistaken, you just visited it. Why do you think they waited until all Toastmasters were outside of the radius BEFORE activating the dome, hmm?”

“How could I know that there were frost warlocks? I mean, they had to be in the background or something! And how did you even know?”

“Because we have one on the inside.”

The General paused. “Then I feel bad for him.”

“I do believe he…” a pony whispered in his ear, which, since they both were dressed in power armor, was more like unintelligible yelling. “I mean she…I can’t even tell anymore, you know?”

“Stallions are boxier,” said Filament.

“I’d like to put you in a box.”

“That’s my daughter, you sicko!”

“Hey, if you divide how much of me is left in this armor by my age…”

“You’re like five times her age.”

“Pretty much.” Crystal shrugged.

“You’re kind is not equipped to handle them,” said the General, turning back to the ice shield.

“Well, then,” said Crystal, “I do believe all hope is lost. This town is gone, and they have stolen all of our waifus. Let’s just pack up and go back to wherever it is we actually live. Or just wait for this story to conclude…”

“Conclude? What are you babbling about?”

“You have one on the inside too.”

“No we don’t. I know the location of every Toastmaster- -”

“That’s not true,” said a generic Toastmaster soldier. “Reconnaissance indicates that Toaster is still inside.”

“Toaster?” said the General, for a moment not even recognizing the name. Then his eyes widened and he gasped. “Sweet toasty ticklish Twilight! We’re all doomed!”

Rainbow Dash awoke to the sensation of gasping for air. For a moment, she was confused, not understanding what was happening or why she was so cold. She tried to move her body and her wings, but neither of them seemed to work. She was not even sure if she had any from the numbness.

Then, slowly, she opened her eyes. The whole world was dark, and she felt dizzy, but above her, she saw Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie,” said Rainbow Dash, looking up. “What- -” Rainbow Dash gasped when she saw that her friend was completely encased in ice, frozen in place, tears still running down her face. It simultaneously occurred to Rainbow Dash that she herself was frozen mostly in similar ice. The last thing she remembered had been flying, and then a sudden flash of light.

Looking around, she saw that the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow- -and more was falling. That was strange, considering how it was summer, and snow could only normally be produced by artisans in Cloudsdale. Yet, despite knowing both these facts, to Rainbow Dash, it appeared and felt as though she had awoken in the darkest depths of winter.

All around her, she realized, were similar blocks of ice. Each one contained a pony. Rainbow Dash saw all the various ponies of town- -Rumble, Blossomforth, Cheerilee, Lacy Leather, Time Turner, and others- -as well as several of her friends, and even a weird-looking dog with its two eyes facing different directions- -and those were just the ones closest to her.

Not understanding, Rainbow Dash turned to Twilight, who was stored in an equivalent ice cube with just about the most awkward expression ever stuck on her face.

“Twilight,” hissed Rainbow Dash. “Twilight! Wake up!”

“For the last time,” muttered a different voice. “I’m not Twilight…it’s just glitter…”

“Rarity?” said Rainbow Dash, craning her neck. Like her, Rarity had only been partially frozen, and her head and one of her feet was sticking out of her block. “Rarity!”

“Hmm what?” said Rarity, pulling her head up drowsily. “Just five more minutes…I need my beauty sleep…”

“Yeah, you sure do.”

“WHAT?!” said Rarity, immediately returning to full consciousness. Then she looked around. “Did I miss something?”

“No. This is completely normal!”

“Oh…well, in that case, I’m really sleepy…”

“Don’t you go to sleep, or I will pretend I’m a prostitute and slap you!”

“Really, Rainbow? You’re going to go there?”

“Just use your magic and get us out!”

“What am I supposed to do? Knit this ice a cozy? Actually, that’s not a bad idea…”

“I don’t know! Just, I don’t know, magic it!”

“I…I can’t,” said Rarity.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?”

“She means she can’t,” said a male voice near Rainbow Dash. She turned her head to see a blue unicorn who had materialized beside her. He looked like any other unicorn in town, save for his cold, staring eyes and the fact that he appeared to be dressed in a hodge-podge of machinery that occasionally vented small puffs of cold smoke.

“Shoddy work,” said another identical blue unicorn. “Who left these partially unfinished?”

“I thought they had pretty mouths,” said yet another. “I was hoping we could use them as a diversion…”

“Really?” said one of them. He reached down and pushed on Rainbow Dash’s chin, lifting her head to stare into his blank eyes. “This one? Look at her. She’s a waif. With a rainbow mane. I think that means she’s gay.”

“I’m NOT GAY!” cried Rainbow Dash, biting down hard on the stallion’s hoof. She almost immediately released him, having been overcome with powerful brain-freeze. His entire body was frigid in temperature.

“Don’t you touch her, you brute!” cried Rarity, her horn charging blue- -and immediately fizzling out. “What? My…my horn.”

“The frost is enchanted. It’s not nearly as hard as the dome, but it tends to either dampen or moisten magic. Even the Toastmaster General would take two days at least to cut his way out of it. It should keep you fresh until we get back to Hyperborea. Assuming someone doesn’t start sticking things in their mouths!”

He glared angrily at one of the other blue unicorns, who immediately hid a large log of peperoni behind his back with a guilty smile on his face.

“You’ll never get away with this!” cried Rainbow Dash. She looked up to the sky, and saw that they were encased in some kind of dome, like they had been when Trixie had gotten hyped up on a combination of the alicorn amulet and Pinkie Pie’s coke supply. Rainbow Dash smiled. “They’re probably surrounding this place right now! Celestia is going to swoop down any minute and save us!”

The ponies stared at her, then at each other. Then, all at once, every blue unicorn- -and Rarity- -burst out into laughter. Even Rainbow Dash had to chuckle a little bit. Celestia did not do didely squat, ever.

“Well, there’s no way you can carry all of us out of here!” said Rarity.

“Oh, we won’t have to,” said one of the ponies, stepping aside. Through the snow storm, Rainbow Dash was able to see several extremely large, bipedal frost creatures carrying huge blocks of rainbow-tinted ice, placing them together in the center of town square into some kind of machine. “Once the Bifrost is complete, we will be able to teleport all of our newly acquired resources back to our homeland before the shield fades. All that will be left is an empty town.”

“But…but what are you going to do with us?” said Rarity, shaking from more than just the cold.

The pony smiled. “I think you know what we are going to do. Let’s just say the pretty mares are going to have a lot of frosty babies.”

“And the others,” said another pony, turning a frozen block containing Spoiled Rich and shuddering. “Well, they can go work in the ice mines.”

“What about stallions?” asked Rainbow Dash.

The other ponies looked at one another, confused. “Oh…we hadn’t thought about that.”

“Can’t we just sex them up too?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Would that be weird?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you really want a stallionwurst in your mouth?”

“I want to put a stallionwurst in that white one’s mouth.”

“Don’t be a sicko! You start it in the plot first, and THEN go to the mouth!”

“No!” cried Rarity. “Not my innocence!”

“Really, Rarity?” said Rainbow Dash. “You, having innocence?”

“I will have you know that I am a white unicorn!”

“Oh, yes you are,” said one of the ponies, leering at her.

“Hey you!” yelled Rainbow Dash. “I’ve got a question for you!”

“What?”

“Which one of you is the leader?”

“Why?”

“So I know whose plot to kick first!”

All the ponies looked at each other, confused.

“You know…we actually don’t know,” said one of them. “Please don’t make us try to differentiate each other. We can’t tell the difference.”

“Well, except her,” said one of them, pointing to a blue mare with a snowflake cutie mark.

“Yeah. Why did you choose a female chassis, anyway? It’s weird.”

“It’s slimming,” she said, shrugging. “And it makes me look friggin adorable.”

“Hey, guys!” said a grinning pony, arriving with a group of several and one of the large golems. “I got some more!”

The golem opened its palms, and several blocks of ice fell out and onto the ground, crushing one of the unfortunate frost ponies who had not moved out of the way fast enough.

“Neat,” said one, digging through the pile. “Hey, look at this!” He picked up a small lock which contained an orange, purple-maned Pegasus filly. “I think I’m going to hang this one on my wall!”

His statement was punctuated with a resounding hoof-blow to the face from the only female among them. The stallion went down like a sack of bricks, and the blue mare caught Scootaloo in the air. “This one is mine,” she said. She grinned, looking through her visor into the ice. “I have the perfect little collar and leash for her picked out…she’ll look so adorable in it. I want to teach her how to love.”

“You get your dirty hooves off of her!” cried Rainbow Dash, struggling futilely against the ice that contained her.

“Ooh, jealous. Do not worry, ugly mare. When this one grows older and is well trained, I will be willing to threesome you and her. Assuming you do not die in the Hyperborean winter, of course.”

“Do we have any season other than winter?”

“No.”

“No, not really.”

“We did have spring that one time…”

“No we didn’t, you twit!”

“Hey!” cried a stallion digging through the pile. He pulled out a large block, and Rainbow Dash immediately recognized the imprisoned pony. “There’s a Derp in here!”

“A Derp?”

“No way, a Derp?”

The blue ponies all gathered around Muffins, staring in awe at her.

“Open her up,” said one.

“Yeah, crack her open!”

“Sure.”

One of the ponies raised his hoof, and the ice surrounding Muffins immediately shifted, responding like liquid and peeling away from her body. She dropped out onto the snowy ground, immediately shivering and shaking. She looked around, confused, and then directed one of her eyes upward. When she saw the ponies around her, she smiled.

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “Would any of you happen to have a blanket? I’m just so cold…”

“Derpy, RUN!” cried Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow?” said Muffins, confused.

Then a crushing blow from one of the stallion landed in the center of her face, breaking her nose.

“Ha!” he cried. “Now she’s REALLY derped!”

“Hit her again!” they cried, descending onto Muffins. She cried out, holding her nose and not understanding as they picked her up again and punched her in the gut. One then grabbed onto her while the others took turns punching and kicking her. One even took her wing in his mouth and twisted it until it snapped and Muffins screamed.

“What are you doing?!” cried Rainbow Dash. “You’re hurting her!”

“That’s the idea!” called back on of the ponies through his own laughter. “Beat the Derp! Beat the Derp!”

They punched her several more times, and she fell. They then surrounded her and began kicking. At first she screamed and tried to plead, but then her cries became weaker and weaker. Rainbow Dash was forced to turn away, and she saw that the derp-eyed dog imprisoned next to her was crying inside its block of ice.

“Stop it!” cried Rarity. “Please, take me instead! She doesn’t deserve this!”

“Oh, how generous,” said one of the ponies, wiping his stained hooves on the snow. The others began to do the same. “But you’re valuable. A Derp is not.”

“Yeah,” said the last pony. Muffins was now shivering and broken, and the pony tilted her and spread her legs. “Beat the derp!”

“What are you doing?!” cried several of the other ponies.

The pony holding Muffin’s legs open’s eyes widened. “I was just…”

“You were going to do a Derp! What is WRONG with you?!”

“I was just- - NO! I wasn’t, I swear, I was just going to…” He paused, and then punched Muffins in her crotch. “That!”

Muffins squeaked slightly, and then rolled over, a heap of pony lying in the snow and not moving.

“If we’re going to do something, we should probably handle this,” said one of them, pointing to Twilight. He raised his hoof and the ice on Twilight’s rear departed, revealing her back-half.

“What are you- -what are you doing?” cried Rainbow Dash.

“If we impregnate a Princess, it will bind our people directly to the royal family,” explained one of the ponies. “So we are going to impregnate her now. Or, rather, one of us is.” He looked around and pointed at one of the ponies. “You.”

“Me?” he said.

“Yes, you. Make her pregnant.”

“But…but….okay…”

He walked up behind Twilight’s rear and put one of his hooves on her rump. Twilight reacted by kicking weakly, and Rainbow Dash reacted by seething with rage.

“EEW!” cried the pony, jumping back. “She’s all hairless and gross!”

“It isn’t supposed to be pleasant!” said the one of them that seemed to have assumed the role of leader. “Just pretend she’s actually attractive.”

“Like me,” said the female frost pony.

“Great, that just made it WORSE,” said the unfortunate pony. “Plus…I really don’t think this is appropriate.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s a violation of a mare’s basic rights and of the respect she deserves to do something like this without her consent. I mean, it’s just plain despicable, and disgusting. I am morally opposed to this violation of her body and the sanctity of this act. I therefore refuse to forcibly impregnate this beloved and elegant wing-horned being.”

All the other frost ponies looked at him wide-eyed. Then the leader raised his hoof. A long, narrow crystal of ice shot out and impaled the offending pony in the chest. The impaled pony looked down at the ice-spear sticking out of his chest, and then back up at the leader. As he did, his body burst into a poof of snow, and his refrigeration suit dropped to the ground along with a narrow octahedral ice crystal.

“I don’t like excuses,” said the leader. “I mean, we are supposed to be villainous villains here. Now get in there and get in there!”

He looked at all the other ponies, but none of them stepped forward.

“Don’t look at me,” said the female. “I chose the female chassis.”

The leader sighed. “I guess if you want something done right you need to do it yourself.”

He stepped up to Twilight’s rump and grabbed it with both front hooves. Twilight, now far more awake despite being half-frozen, resisted vigorously.

“Come on, Princess,” said the leader, sounding as though he were about to vomit. “This isn’t any more pleasant for me than it will be for you…”

“Help! Help!”

“Screaming won’t help you.”

“No, I think that was one of us,” said another.

They all turned, and saw a blue pony approaching with a heavy limp. His armor was charred and blackened, and his body appeared to be darkened with soot. Part of his mane- -which was mostly burned off- -was smoldering with a tiny flame.

“What happened?” demanded one of the ponies.

“A Toastmaster…there’s a Toastmaster inside the dome…”

“That’s impossible! We made sure that they had left! We spent months canvassing this place! How could one have gotten in?”

“Which one is it?” asked the leader.

“I don’t recognize her.”

“How can you not recognize her? The Toastmasters are our sworn enemies, we know the identity of every living member of their order- -there are no ‘unknown’ Toastmasters!”

“She disincorporated one of us.”

“Do you know which one?”

“No, of course not! We all look the same to me!”

“He has a point.”

“I don’t.”

“Quiet, you.”

“Stop,” said the leader toward the others. He then turned back to the blackened one who was now shaking with fear. “Even if what you say is true- -and it isn’t- -that won’t affect the plan. We have dealt with other unforeseen problems before.” A frost pony tapped his hoof against a large block of ice containing the Pegasus Flitter. “She nearly found us out, and we froze her solid. We can do the same thing to one Toastmaster. There are, like, ten of us.”

“There are over seventy,” corrected the female frost pony. “We make up two thirds the population of this town.”

“I’m surprised none of them noticed it, really.”

“Well,” said Rarity. “In all fairness, a lot of ponies do look similar.”

“What? You’re still alive?”

“Just chillin here,” said Rainbow Dash.

There were collective agonized pun-groans from the crowd.

Their groaning stopped quickly though, and took on expressions of confusion and surprise. Rainbow Dash did not understand, but thought that they might be picking up on something that she could not sense. Then, Rainbow Dash DID hear it. A low thudding in the snow that caused her ice to vibrate. It actually felt oddly stimulating in her lower district.

“Do you hear that?” said Rarity.

Rainbow Dash was about to answer when the rockets streaked through the snowy sky. Blue unicorns were blown to bits from the blast, and the explosion knocked back Rainbow Dash and the others, cracking their ice.

When the explosion stopped, Rainbow Dash’s ice prison had been badly cracked. She managed to force her hoof free, and then pulled her way the rest of the way out. As she did, she looked around at the landscape surrounding her. The blue ponies had been reduced to piles of equipment around octahedral ice crystals, and the snow surrounding them was on fire. Twilight, who had landed partially inverted, flailed her back legs around wildly trying to free her front half.

Through the flame, Rainbow Dash saw an immense figure approach. At first she thought that it was one of the golems- -but as it drew closer, she realized that it was not made of ice, but of metal, its body humming with the power of an engine and powerful hydraulics, its hands swaying at its sides as it marched to battle.

“A giant robot?” gasped Rainbow Dash. “Could this day get any more awesome?”

Then it did. A frost golem attacked the robot, ramming it hard. The robot reacted quickly, grabbing the golem and tossing it to the ground and punching it repeatedly before the fight moved off-screen.

“Rainbow!” cried Rarity. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help.”

“I was thinking of hoofing myself,” said Rainbow Dash, still watching the battle.

“Breaks us out of here!”

“Fiiiinne.”

Rainbow Dash moved quickly, kicking the ice away from her friends. She athletic but not especially strong, but the damage from the blast had fractured the ice-cells quite substantially. Of course, Rainbow Dash was almost completely finished before she found Applejack- -because that was always her luck- -who, once free, bucked everypony out in much less time.

Soon, there were a number of shivering, cold ponies huddled together against the bitter cold.

“Last one,” said Applejack, kicking open the ice that held the derp-eyed dog. The dog almost fell out, but rather than hesitate in a daze, it immediately ran out into the snow.

Rainbow Dash watched it go, wondering if she should catch it- -but then it stopped and started digging. The ponies all looked at it, confused, but then shock came over both Rainbow Dash and Rarity’s faces. They were the only ones who had seen what had happened to Muffins.

The dog reached into the snow and, with great effort, pulled a badly wounded Pegasus out of the wreckage. When the other ponies saw Muffins, they gasped. Even Spoiled Rich turned away at the sight.

“Oh, no,” gasped Applejack. “Twalight! We have to help her!”

Twilight looked up from preening one of her wings, and then trotted over with Applejack and Rainbow Dash where the dog was lying on Muffin’s cold body, whimpering.

Twilight looked down, and then herself turned away. “I…I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”

“There has to be something!” cried Rainbow Dash.

The dog looked up at Twilight with wide, pleading, different-direction-facing eyes.

“I…I don’t know a healing spell for something this bad. I’m sorry.”

“Then we need to get her to a hospital!”

“There isn’t time,” said a male voice. The ponies paused, confused as to where it had come from, considering that there were no stallions around. Then the realized that it had been the borzoi who had spoken. “I know what I need to do.”

The dog stood up and stepped back. As it did, its surface distorted with green magic, it size and appearance shifting. It grew taller and thicker, and its long hair retracted and grayed. A pair of wings sprouted from its back, and its narrow face expanded to pony proportions. The only feature that remained constant was its derped yellow eyes.

Bread, now fully materialized as a pony, reached down and picked up his sister.

“Bread,” she whispered, softly. One of her wings dangled uselessly at her side. “You need to…you need to get out…”

“You are injured. I need to help.”

Muffin’s eyes widened. “No…don’t…”

“If I don’t, you’ll die.”

“But you need…”

Before she could resist, he reached down and kissed her. She weakly lifted one hoof to his face, and he held her tightly.

“I don’t know if this is okay,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Quiet, you’re ruining the moment!” hissed Rarity.

Green energy began to form around Bread, and it passed from him into Muffins. Her wounds and broken wing began to heal, but for every scratch and cut that healed on her body, Bread paid a price. His gray coat began to break away, replaced with black chitin. His fluffy wings stretched outward, and the feathers began to drop away and disintegrate, leaving nothing but translucent blue tissue in their wake.

The transfer lasted only a few seconds, and when it was done, Bread set his sister down into the snow before collapsing himself. He looked up to the staring crowd surrounding him, at their terrified faces, and looked away. Half of his façade had been lost; parts of him remained the illusion of Muffin’s gray coat, and one of his eyes was still yellow and pony-like- -but the other was green and blank, matching the exposed portions of his black surface and hole-filled legs.

“A changeling!” screamed Spoiled Rich, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. “We’ve been infiltrated! Squish it! SQUISH IT!”

She raised her front hooves to stomp Bread to death. Bread, weak from exertion, covered his head in feeble defense. Instead of him being struck, however, Spoiled Rich was punched squarely in the teeth.

“Rarity!” cried Twilight.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been itching to do that!” said Rarity, shaking her hoof from the pain. “Ow…”

“But if this Bread is a changeling, what happened to the real Bread?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused from having not paid attention to the carefully laid clues in previous chapters.

“I am the real Bread,” said Bread, standing weakly. He gathered his strength, and cast as best of an illusion spell as he could. His curved horn glowed green, and his patchwork coat condensed around him, evening out until he resembled something more like a gray and black earth pony without sclera. “I always have been. Since the day she hatched me.”

He reached down and picked up his unconscious sister.

“Amazing,” said Twilight, inspecting Muffins. “How did you do this?”

“She has been feeding me love for almost two decades. I transferred some of it back to her.”

“You can do that?”

“Apparently. Here.” Bread threw Muffins over Twilight’s back, nearly collapsing her under the weight. “You need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Why?”

Beside them, an ice golem crashed into the ground. Its badly damaged body burst, exploding into ice and snow and dropping a small octahedral crystal that rolled across the ground toward Bread’s feet.

“Because thought it would be funny to hurt my sister. Because she’s a Derp…because she can’t choose what she looks like when I can. I’m fighting mad.”

“Huh?” said a male voice as a partially formed frost pony stood up from the wreckage. “Did I miss something?”

Bread moved so fast that even Rainbow Dash was mildly impressed. He grabbed the frost pony’s neck with his pointy changeling teeth and twisted its head off.

Several ponies in the crowd gasped, and several fainted- -although Pinkie Pie seemed strangely aroused.

The gray eyes of the head looked up at bread. “Aw, come on man. That’s not cool.”

“Ice pun,” said Rainbow Dash.

The head’s eyes widened. “No! Wait!”

Bread crushed said head, and it and the rest of the body collapsed into snow and a single ice crystal.

“My special somepony is out there fighting for us. Even after you all banished her,” he said, turning toward Twilight. “You, princess, can buck yourself, and buck all your orders. I’m going out there to help her take back this town.”

“I’m with you,” said Rainbow Dash.

“No. You need to get to safety.”

“Buck no. I’m not going to let you have all the fun. I literally have wet dreams about doing this sort of thing, except they’re usually changelings. Hitting them in there ugly little bug faces…oh. Sorry.”

“There’s a reason I take this form,” said Bread.

“I’m with ya to,” said Applejack.

“And me,” said Pinkie Pie. “Besides, I’ve already rigged the town with explosives.” Every eye turned toward Pinkie Pie. She looked back at them. “What? I thought we might need it to deal with the harl- -I mean with Toaster.”

“I’m going to sit this one out,” said Rarity. “I’ll help get the young and old out of here. Twilight will help me.”

“I will?”

“Oh, you will,” said Rarity, picking up a shivering and nearly unconscious Scootaloo and throwing her on top of Muffins on Twilight’s back. “I’m certainly not going to carry them all.”

A second barrage of rockets and rapid-fire lasers landed near a distant pile of frozen ponies, this one farther out on the edge of the village. One of the golems hauling them in was injured, as well as several of the blue ponies that were guarding the pile of booty.

One of those ice-cubes contained Lyra. Her ice was damaged, not by much, but enough to just barely rouse her out of her frozen slumber. Her eyes flickered around the inside of the shell, confused at first but then realizing what she needed to do. Summoning all the strength of her power armor, she pushed outward, shattering the block.

“Who what where?” she said, still groggy and disoriented. Beside her, she saw other ponies trapped in decaying enchanted frost. One of them was her beloved Bon Bon, frozen in just about the most awkward and hilarious position imaginable.

Lyra brought down a steel-clad hoof on Bon Bon’s prison, and the ice shattered. Bon Bon dropped out and into Lyra’s waiting forelegs.

“What?” she said, looking up. Her eyes widened when she saw the teal face of her lover. “Lyra? Why are you…what are you wearing?” Her eyes widened even further when she saw the thistle insignia on Lyra’s side.

“Bon Bon, I have something to tell you,” said Lyra. “You know how I told you I ate all your imported oats?”

“Yeah. They were expired.”

“And I threw up, for, like, ten hours. But that wasn’t the only secret I’ve been keeping. I’m actually a member of an ancient order of heretic knights sworn to defend Equestria from tyranny.”

“Oh, I know that,” said Bon Bon.

“You…you what?”

“Yeah,” she said, standing up. “I mean, I am a secret agent and all. That, and you don’t exactly hide it well. You have the Questlords flag in your sitting room, and a robot in your garage.”

“And…you don’t care?”

“Oh, culo di cuscino, no. In fact, that plot armor right there kind of turns me on.”

Lyra reached out with her armor-clad arms and pulled Bon Bon close. They kissed deeply and passionately until they were interrupted by the thudding footsteps of a frost golem.

“Bon Bon, get behind me!” said Lyra, violently throwing her fillyfriend to the ground.

Before she could do anything- -not that she really could do anything, considering she had no real weapons beside her horn- -a massive metal fist rammed into the side of the its icy head. The Anthro then pushed its way past some trees and grabbed the damaged golem by the shoulders and slew it with a powerful pelvic thrust.

“Uh, Lyra,” said Bon Bon. “I don’t think your robot is in your garage anymore.”

“Buck…” said Lyra. “How is it even operational?! The neural interface is tuned to me, and only me!”

“Is there any way any other pony could operate it?”

“No, of course not. I mean, it does have a manual control, but…”

“Manual control?”

“Yeah, it’s a big long thing that looks like a…” Lyra’s eyes widened as she blushed. “Dear sweet sun-butt, she didn’t…” Lyra accessed the radio in her armor. “Toaster? TOASTER?! Are you in my armor?!”

“Hmmffflflfffn,” replied the voice on the other line.

“Toaster?” said Bon Bon. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Oh my…that manual control isn’t in your mouth, is it?”

“No,” said Toaster.

“You need to get out of that thing and get me into it this instant!”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” said Toaster. Lyra watched as two golems closed in on the Anthro, but it fended them off with an almost gymnasntic set of elegant motions.

“Wait a second,” said Lyra. “If you’re still fighting, how are you using the manual control and talking at the same time? There’s no way you could be using hooves either…”

“Yeah, about that…”

Lyra reared back in absolute disgust. “EEEEEWWW! Oh BUCK NO! NO! OH, COME ON! Toaster, why would you even- -that’s my robot, come one, what is wrong with you?!”

“What’s she doing?” asked Bon Bon.

“I’d rather not explain,” said Lyra. “But I’m going to have to remove that control stick…and burn it…in the sun. Toaster, use the triangulation system to find my position and converge- -”

“Too late for that,” said Bon Bon.

Lyra became aware of the numerous blue ponies silently approaching her and Bon Bon from all sides. None of them looked happy.

“Oh, crap,” said Lyra. “Toaster, there’s no time! But I need you to do something for me.”

“What would…whoaHOho! Tickly!- -that be?”

“Payload sixty seven. There’s a switch at the base of the control, can you reach it?”

“I assure you, I can reach every single millimeter of this control stick.”

“I don’t need to know that! Just fire it!”

Toaster apparently responded. A pair of small missiles fired from the back of the Anthro, and immediately locked onto Lyra’s position. They swooped down across the snowy landscape and rushed toward her, taking out two of the blue ponies in the process. Lyra reared back onto her hind legs, and her armor shifted position to balance the new stance. She held out her forelegs, and the pair of projectiles slammed into her hooves.

The two objects twisted into place, and Lyra felt the thrill of the neural interface as she extended her fingers.

“Alright, Bon Bon,” said Lyra. “You’re going to want to run, because SOMEPONY’S about to get fisted!”

“Not going to happen,” said Bon Bon. Lyra looked down to see her lover opening a large steel case.

“What is that?”

“Shotgun,” said Bon Bon, pulling the weapon out of the case and sliding shells into it with a tongue that Lyra knew was indeed quite dexterous.

“Where did you get that, Bon Bon?”

“I keep them all over Ponyville, in case of shotgun emergencies. And it’s not Bon Bon.” She removed the second item from the case, a pair of sunglasses. She slid them onto her face. “It’s agent Sweetie Drops.”

“I think I love you,” said Lyra.

“You had better.”

Inside the Anthro, the temperature of the cockpit was increasing steadily, mostly from Toaster’s exertion. She was sweating, but did not care. Her mind had focused onto the machine with absolute concentration. Controlling it was not difficult for her, but it was taking everything she had to keep control.

Toaster flopped back into the seat and wrapped her tongue around the control stick, which was now covered in several types of secretion.

“Incoming from the left,” said Proctor.

“Stop talking and let me do my job,” ordered Toaster. She reached around to the other side of the control joystick and pulled it back firmly with a twist, causing the Anthro to turn and raise a powerful rapidfire weapon that Toaster assumed to be magic.

“Ammunition is twenty five percent depleted,” warned Proctor.

“He’s not spent yet,” said Toaster. “Let’s make him dance.”

She twisted around and forced the Anthro to bend to her will. It responded, and Toaster grasped the nearest of several buildings and wrapped her- -or rather, the Anthro’s- -body around it, kicking the golem in the face.

“Still on your left,” added Proctor.

“Hmmffn,” muttered Toaster, her entire mouth and both hooves wrapped around the control and stroking it to the absolute best of her ability.

Suddenly, the Anthro was rocked by an external force. Toaster barely managed to dodge a large ice spike that plunged through the cockpit, tearing through the metal and hydraulics.

“See, told you,” said Proctor.

“Quiet, you,” said Toaster, contorting her body around the crystal. It was in her way, but not enough that she could not still reach the control by flexing her body around it and leaning against the rapidly spreading ice. She twisted and shifted, grasping the control with both feet and using the Anthro’s hands to pull out the spike. “Oh, wow,” she said, returning to her seat just in time to stab an approaching golem with the ice spear. “I can see why Lyra likes these. Imagine what I could do to myself with these…or to Bread…”

“Eew,” said Proctor. “You are a vulgar whore, aren’t you?”

“You bet your sweet-tasting joystick,” said Toaster, licking the tip and driving several heavy bolts across the town into an approaching contingent of blue ponies, shattering their tiny bodies.

“For the record, I can’t feel any of this,” said Proctor. “And it is actually kind of disturbing to watch…but I can’t stop looking…”

“If you were alive, I would charge you for that.”

Toaster looked up at the screen, and saw several of the blue ponies pulling themselves back together. As she watched, something hit her from behind.

“Ack! Surprise buttsex!” she cried, unable to move the Anthro as the golem held her in place while the blue ponies began to converge into new golems themselves.

“I’d like to see how you get out of this one,” sneered Proctor.

Toaster looked down at the joystick, not knowing what to do- -save for one thing.

“Sorry, guy,” she said. She grasped it with both hooves and with all her strength bent it to a ninety degree angle. The Anthro itself almost seemed to weep, but the waist twisted completely around and Toaster grasped its crotch with the Anthro’s hand.

“I did this to a stallion once,” she said. “Let’s see how you like it!”

Before Toaster could actually do anything, the golem poofed into a cloud of snow preemptively- -just as its friends surrounded her.

“This is not good,” said Proctor. “I don’t think you’re going to survive this.”

“Well, if I go out, I’m going to go protecting my friends- -and doing what I was born to do!”

Toaster put her lips around the joystick, pretended it was Bread, and shoved all twenty inches of it into herself. The Anthro responded by charging every weapon it had left, and Toaster charged once again into battle.

Down in the snow below, a blue pony slowly regained consciousness. He looked up at the shield above, and wondered what had hit him. Then the leader sat up.

His body had been damaged in the rocket blast. One of his body’s legs had been removed completely, and the others were twisted badly. His connection was still adequate, though, and he channeled magic from his true body back into the false one, forcing it to generate ice that rapidly resolved into new appendages.

He stood and looked out over the town. It had become a battlefield. Somehow, the ponies had broken free of their storage cells- -and not only that, they were attacking the other frost warlocks. Many warlocks had already fallen, their false bodies destroyed. Some ponies had been frozen back into their correct states, but there were still so many others.

Worse, there appeared to be some kind of a robot defending the town against the larger frost Warlocks. The leader did not know how his kind had allowed that to happen, how they had walked into such a trap. Above him, he could see that the shield spell was running out of time. It was indestructible, but far from permanent.

In the distance, he saw that the Bifrost was still mostly undamaged. It was not complete, but close enough that the battle still had a chance.

Then, from the wreckage of the town, a large number of ponies came running toward the leader. He smiled, bracing to ice them all- -but then he realized that they were his duplicates.

“Fall back!” one of them cried.

“To where? We’re locked in!”

“The yellow soft one put it in my butt! My buttttt!”

They ran past the leader without even slowing. He sighed, and felt his anger growing. It was the first real emotion he had ever felt, other than the desire to steal waifus.

“If you want something done right, I guess you have to do it yourself…”

He raised his hoof and shot out a veritable storm of spikes, each one impaling one of the retreating frost warlocks. Their magically generated bodies collapsed and their true forms fell to the ground along with their refrigeration equipment.

“I’ve come too far to fail,” said the leader, pulling the remains of their armor onto himself and pulling the snow and ice that was left of their bodies back into himself, reconfiguring it. “I will not die here! I will not be killed by some PONY!”

Down on the ground, Lyra and Sweetie Drops cut their way through the crowd of wizards, Lyra with her fists and Sweetie Drops with her gun and hot lead.

“Come and eat it!” cried Lyra. A blue pony obliged, and leapt onto her. She punched him in the face, knocking him backward. She then promptly grabbed his tail and lifted his plot upward. “Oh, so you’re THAT kind of stallion!”

Lyra closed her fingers together and punched. The force was enough to lift all four of the stallion’s hooves off the ground, and he squealed in pain.

“Hey Bon Bon!” cried Lyra. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” said Sweetie Drops, blowing a hole in the chest of an approaching wizard and reducing his body to a puff of snow. “Why?”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T SEE MY WATCH!!”

“Please, no,” pleaded the stallion.

“Too late!” Lyra extended her pinkie and index finger while pulling her central two fingers against her thumb. The stallion’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, but before any sound could come out, he disappeared into a puff of snow.

“They’re just snowponies!” said Lyra, shaking the snow off her hand and promptly poking another wizard in the eyes while narrowly dodging a beam of ice.

“I can see that,” said Sweetie Drops, perfectly calm, as she dropped over Lyra’s back and ended the wizard that had just fired a magical beam of energy at Lyra. She then leapt up and kicked several before dropping down and shoving her barrels into a frost pony’s mouth and promptly removing his head, splattering snow over her sunglasses and expressionless face.

“Eat it,” she said.

“Wow,” said Lyra. “I expected you to make a joke about turning him into an album cover.”

“That would have been extremely inappropriate.”

“Yeah, no way I would joke about something like that either.”

Bon Bon picked up a random wandering lobster and clamped it onto one frost pony’s mouth. Meanwhile, Lyra paused and put a hand to her ear while she flicked a different frost pony in the nose, causing him to run away crying little icy tears.

“What is it?”

“I’m detecting aerial signals,” she said.

“Have they figured out how to fly?” said Sweetie Drops.

“No. Somepony final thawed all those griffons!”

Sweetie Drops and Lyra looked up and saw the army of flighted half-bird cat things pouring out toward the battle.

“Yeah! We’re going to…oh no…by Celestia’s left nut…”

“What?”

Lyra did not even need to explain. All around them, the air suddenly dropped drastically in temperature. The nuclear reactor in Lyra’s armor kept her warm, but Sweetie Drops dropped to her knees, shivering. The wizards stopped, uncertain what was happening- -and then their bodies exploded, their remains and machinery being pulled toward a massive swarm of snow and ice forming on the far end of the village.

“Bon Bon!” cried Lyra.

“I told you…” said Sweetie Drops weakly. “It’s…Sweetie…Drops…”

The ice grew up over her body, once again forcing her back into the ice. Lyra slammed her hoof against the block of clear, enchanted water, but it was no use. Her hydraulics were beginning to freeze, and the oil felt like molasses. Her armor was becoming rigid.

Above them, the griffons were blown back by the storm. They dropped from the sky, landing as blocks of ice.

“What is Twilight even paying those guys for?” said Lyra. She tried to stand, but could not. Her legs were increasingly overgrown with ice. She charged her horn, but her magic was no use. The last thing she saw before it engulfed her was the immense golem pulling its way out of the storm, marching through the center of town directly toward the Anthro.

The last of the golems near Toaster suddenly exploded, their ice and parts being pulled back away from her.

“Did I do that?” she asked herself, looking back at the control stick one more time. She had explored every inch of it, but she still had no idea what weapons the Anthro actually had.

“No,” said Proctor. “I think it was that guy.”

Toaster looked up through the window, and found herself looking into the center of a snowstorm. Then, through the blowing ice and streams of snow, she saw it: a golem, built from the remnants of every refrigerator, air conditioner, freezer, ice machine, and automatic-refrigerating sex toy in Ponyville.

“He’s a bit big,” said Toaster. Indeed, he was at least twice the height of the Anthro and much wider than the other golems.

“Yeah, you’re gonna get pwnt.”

“How much ammunition do we have left?”

“We’re out.”

“Then you know what that means?”

“It means that this town is lost, and you should get out of this suit before I end up dead?”

“Nope. It means it’s time to cuddle.”

Toaster slapped the Anthro’s hands together, and then spread them and raced forward toward the golem.

She had not gotten more than fifty yards when an alarm suddenly went off.

“Whaaaat is that?” she cried, panicked. “Is it time to wake up? Is the keish done?”

“Warning!” said Proctor, his digital face appearing on the corner of the screen, which was otherwise now white with snow. “External temperature dropping below forty Kelvin!”

“I have no idea what that means!”

An icy claw emerged from the snow. Toaster cried out and tried to duck back, but she could not avoid the impact. The Anthro was sent reeling backward, and a second alarm went off.

“Hull breach detected,” explained Proctor.

“Hole breach? What hole?”

“The one in the armor’s chest! The temperature is too cold! The tungsten armor is too brittle!”

A second blow hit Toaster, and this time she felt the joystick jerk in her grip. Several of the controls locked as one of the arms froze.

“We’re icing!”

“Then put me on a cake and lick me until your grandma yells at you!” cried Toaster. She needed to get more space between them. She tried to move the Anthro back, and it responded, but slowly. “It’s so sticky…”

“Well, it has been inside you quite deeply.”

“No, not that!”

“Yeah, I know. The hydraulics are going.”

Another blow sent Toaster tumbling through the cockpit as the Anthro collapsed to the ground. When she finally sat up, she saw the golem emerge from the storm and raise its hand. Several ice spikes came out, and Toaster heard the sound of rending metal.

“We’re pinned. Against city hall, I do believe.”

“I hope I don’t have to pay for those damages,” muttered Toaster.

“Not likely,” said Proctor, pointing on the screen with his eyebrows. Toaster looked to where he was gesturing, and saw that all the ponies in town had been frozen back into blocks of ice. “No one left to pay.”

“Well, it isn’t over until the fat pony sings!”

“I don’t think Flutterbutter is in any position to sing right now.”

“Well, I’ll make him sing,” said Toaster, grabbing the control stick. She tried to bend it to her will, and although some of the switches still worked, most of it had frozen. “Wow. I never thought I’d say this, but he’s too stiff!”

Toaster saw the uber-golem reach down and put its claw around her viewscreen. The image flickered and then went to snow- -the static kind, rather than the kind that filled Ponyville- -and then was torn off completely.

Cold air rushed into the cockpit as its surface was torn away. Toaster looked up at the immense creature before her. She jerked the stick, but the best she could do was to get the arms of the Anthro to twitch.

The golem threw the hunk of armor away.

“So,” it said in an oddly pony-like voice. “You are the one who did this. What an ugly little thing you are.”

“My name is Toaster, not Mirror!” retorted Toaster.

“An appropriate name for a Toastmaster, I suppose. How I would like to take you back to Hyperborea and make you my personal maid just to humiliate your accursed kind…but you’ve caused enough trouble.”

The golem lifted one of its claws, and they extended into long blades of ice.

“Looks like you’re going to be pretty dead,” said Proctor. “Oh well. Nice knowing you. Try not to get any more pony juice than you already have on the inside of my armor.”

The golem pulled its claw back, and Toaster realized that there was no way out of this.

“Oh well,” she said. “I’m sorry, Bread. I really did love you.”

The claw started to move forward, but there was a flash of green energy from behind the golem. Toaster’s eyes widened as she saw the four heads of a hydra spring up from nowhere, wrapping themselves around the golem and preventing it from striking her. Even stranger was how the hydra was gray- -and how not one of its eight yellow eyes was looking in the direction of any of the other eight.

“Don’t you touch her!” it cried from one of the heads.

“Bread?” said Toaster, her jaw dropping. “I thought I was the only one who was allowed to give you heads.”

“Toaster! I can’t hold this form for long!” cried Bread. The golem was already starting to break away from his grip, and hydra-bread was starting to weaken. “You need to shoot it! Shoot it now!”

Toaster nodded and reached out for the control stick. She tried using it, but there was no response.

“It’s frozen!” she said. “The whole system’s frozen! I can’t get a shot!”

“You also don’t have any ammo,” noted Proctor.

“Use your horn!” cried Bread.

“My- -my horn?!”

“Yes! Use your magic on him!”

“That will not stop me,” said the golem. It pulled suddenly, and one of Bread’s hydra heads faded and disappeared.

“But- -but if I do that, I’ll hit you too!” cried Toaster.

“I don’t care! Just do it!”

“But- -you’ll die! I can’t do it, Bread!”

Another hydra head collapsed, and now one of the golem’s arms was free. It reached up and started strangling one of the two remaining heads. “It’s the only way!” cried Bread through his non-strangled head. “Please! Save them! Only you can do it!”

“I- -I can’t!” Toaster felt tears running down her face, and saw them freezing solid before they struck the ground. The air was so cold, and she knew that all those other ponies must be so cold in all that ice. She wondered if they could survive in there, or what would happen to all her friends.

“Please,” whispered Bread.

Toaster closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Bread! I’m so sorry!”

As the last head faded, Bread wrapped his last neck around the golem and held it in place. Toaster charged her horn. For the first time in her life, she did force herself to control the beam. Instead of confining her energy to the tiniest part of her horn’s tip, she charged all of it.

The blast of coronal energy as her horn ignited instantly vaporized most of the Anthro, leaving Toaster standing on a hunk of rapidly melting tungsten.

“I love you,” she said as she lowered her horn and concentrated the total of her energy on a single beam.

Outside the ice shield, a total of forty seven Toastmasters had arrived and were hard at work cutting through the ice. They had directed all of their magical power onto a single point, and they had made significant process- -they had melted away almost half a centimeter of ice, and every droplet of water that fell to the permafrost below was a sign of progress.

The Questlords, meanwhile, had mostly reposed near the sight of their mortal enemies expending so much effort, waiting for their leader’s orders. Some were talking, others were cleaning their rifles, and one had gotten his tongue stuck to a different part of the ice dome and was trying to free himself.

Crystal Leader checked his watch.

“Oop. It’s time.” He turned to his troops. “Blast shields, down!”

The Questlords immediately responded, lowering the heavy shields over their faces

“Blast shields?” said General Crusty, who was dripping more liquid from his face than the ice dome had leaked in the last half hour. “What do you need those fo- -”

A narrow wide beam of red energy suddenly poured out from the inside of the dome, heading upward at an oblique angle. The Questlords took cover while the Toastmasters looked up at it, confused.

Then the beam widened. The explosion was deafening as it expanded to twenty feet wide, the force causing the ice dome to shatter instantaneously into billions of tiny crystals. The resulting force leveled a significant portion of the forest it passed over, and the force and heat of it alone was enough to pick up every Toastmaster and Questlord and send them flying in all directions.

Toaster stepped down into the smoldering pile that she had produced. The last bit of a cold breeze blew against her skin, and she shivered. She had survived the blast, but every hair on her body had been singed away. She was now pink, hairless, and completely naked. She had no main, no coat, and no tail save for the dock. Even her cutie mark was little more than a faded discoloration on her flank.
She looked at the wreckage- -at the metallic remnants of the Anthro, and the streak burned through town. All around was the sound of dripping water from the melted ice. Much of it was from the remnants of the golem she had just destroyed, but a small amount was running down the street as tiny rainbow streams from the damaged and rapidly decaying Bifrost.

There was not much left. Only a pile of molten, burned scrap remained, much of it still smoldering. Perched on one piece was an octahedral crystal, still shiny and undamaged even while the rest of the ice of that final frost warlock was either reduced to clouds of steam or rapidly on its way to becoming water.

The heat of the blast had caused some of the trapped ponies’ ice to melt. For the others, without the warlocks to maintain the spell, their prisons were slowly melting. As Toaster dropped to her knees into the wreckage, weeping, shivering and wet ponies began to draw out of town surrounding her.

At first, nopony spoke. They just stood, staring at Toaster. None of them had seen what she had been forced to do, but they all understood that something terrible had happened to ensure this victory.

Eventually, one pony pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Muffins, partially supported by Pinkie Pie, stepped forward and beyond the circle that had formed around Toaster.

“What happened?” she asked. Toaster could not respond; she just looked up at Muffins with big, watery eyes, and found herself unable to explain what she had just done. “Bread…he…” was all she could produce.

“No,” said Muffins. “No, he didn’t…”

Toaster nodded. “I…I killed him.”

“Oh, Toaster,” said Muffins, now herself crying. She knelt down and wrapped Toaster in a hug. “It’s…it’s going to be okay.”

There was more sniffing, and suddenly Pinkie Pie burst into tears. The entire crowd- -who no doubt still had no idea what had happened- -also started to look increasingly sad.

Then a gray, hole-filled foreleg burst through the wreckage.

“Gah!” cried Toaster, hiding under Muffins. “Please don’t hurt me, zombie Bread!”

“I’m not a zombie,” said Bread, pulling himself out of the wreckage. He dusted off his chitinous body and horn, and fluttered his insectoid wings to dust them off.

“Is it…is it really you?” asked Toaster, standing up and approaching the partially-metamorphosed changeling standing before her. “How…how did you survive?”

“There is a reason my name is ‘Bread’ and not ‘Toast’. I cannot be burned, and if slain, I’m sure to rise again.”

“You mean you’re…you’re fireproof?”

“I’m proof against a lot of things. However, I am currently depleted of all juices…so…”

His shape shifted one more time, and now he became a default changeling drone. Toaster rushed forward and caught him. The both collapsed to the ground, Toaster still crying but now no longer with sadness.

“You’re so smooth,” whispered Bread.

“I’m sure it will grow back eventually. But I don’t even care if it doesn’t. I’m just so glad you’re okay!” She hugged Bread. As she did, she felt a sharp prick and a draining feeling.

“Ow!” she cried, pulling back her foreleg to see a pair of fang marks on it. “Did you just drain some of my love?”

“Just a little.”

Toaster smiled coyly. “Come on, Bread. You know it’s my job to swallow your love, not the other way around.”

“I think that was a semen joke,” whispered Rainbow Dash, loudly enough for literally every pony in the crowd to hear.

The crowd laughed, and so did Toaster. For a moment, she was just so happy. This continued for about ten seconds, until Twilight came through the crowd.

Everypony hushed, immediately, and Toaster hugged changeling Bread close to her.

“Please,” said Toaster. “I know I’m banished, and I’m sorry I didn’t leave on time, but don’t hurt bread! I know he’s a changeling, and you categorically hate changelings because, you know, one of them humped your brother, but he’s a good pony.”

“Wait, you banished her?” said one pony in the crowd.

“Is that true?”

“Why would you do that, Twilight?”

“Boo!”

“What the ghost said! Boooo!”

They started tossing fragments of broken refrigerator parts, some of them burning their hooves on the still hot remnants.

“Worst Princess!”

“Totally OP!”

“We want unicorn Twilight back!”

“I don’t agree with any of this, but I’m trying to fit in!”

Twilight charged her horn and grabbed all the ponies that were throwing stuff at her. “Stop it, or I will vaporize you and your families!”

Every pony gasped, and Twilight smiled and laughed. “Aw, come on. You know I’m just kidding. I’m not Celestia!”

Then, more serious, she turned back to Toaster. Toaster shivered in fright, but Pinkie Pie stepped between her and Twilight.

“Pinkie,” said Twilight.

“Twilight, you can’t banish her!”

“Pinkie…”

“I mean, I know I was mean to her at first, and I tried to kill her a few times, but I was wrong, and I was judging her based on preconceived notions about morality that blinded me to accepting the fact that she’s a normal pony, just like us, and has needs too- -”

“Pinkie!”

“- -and she just wants to have friends and ponies that care about her and never even has had a party for anything at all and really needs our help to get her life in order instead of us just yelling at her like my parents used to do to me about how it was bad to be a harlot and because I was the wrong color and because they wanted a son and I was a filly but this isn’t about me it’s about her and she’s a good pony, Twilight, she is so please don’t- -A”

Twilight pointed her horn at Pinkie Pie and teleported her away.

“Um,” said Toaster. “Do you usually do that?”

“I eat migraine medication like candy,” replied Twilight, rubbing her forehead. “She’ll be fine. After she finishes that sentence in ten minutes or so she’ll be back in, like, thirty seconds or something.”

“So,” said Toaster. “Now comes the banishing part?”

Twilight shook her head. “We need to talk.”

Chapter 22, Epilogue: Yup, it’s an Epilogue

2 Months Later

The air smelled funny. Not enough to make Toaster laugh, of course, but enough to at least produce a nostalgic smile. She had not been to a hospital in over three years. Before then, of course, she had never left one. The smell of antiseptic and cleaning fluid reminded her of her youth.

This time, of course, she was not the one who was broken and in need of repair. Instead, she found herself sitting in semi-anxiously in the waiting room, absentmindedly picking yellow foam out of a tear in the chair and eating it.

Every time one of the doors would open- -not just to the waiting room, but most doors in the hospital in general- -Toaster would look up, feeling the calmness that came from her nostalgic memories and of chewing on tasty chair stuffing would shatter and she would look up fearfully.

Eventually, the fear got to be too much, and Toaster just laid down on the bench and slowly cried, mentally kicking herself for what she had done.

She heard the door to the hospital open, and a set of hurried hoof steps enter. Then she heard a familiar voice. “Toaster?”

Toaster paused, knowing that she knew that voice, but not knowing from where- -and then, suddenly remembering, bolted upright and onto the floor, coming face-to-face with the yellow-haired Pegasus standing in the hallway.

“Madame Tickler!” cried Toaster, trying to straightened her bangs and tail and wondering if her makeup was still reasonably intact. “What- -what are you doing here, in Ponyville?”

“I was meeting with Lacy. Remember? You introduced us.”

“Oh, the meeting!” cried Toaster. “I’m sorry! I forgot! The outgoing line- -”

“The lingerie line is fine, but I don’t care about that now. I heard you were in the hospital, so I rushed over as fast as I could.”

“You…you did?”

“Just because I had to let you go does not mean that you’re not still one of my girls. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Infected? Pregnant?”

“Oh, no,” said Toaster. “At least, I don’t think so. Different number of chromosomes and all. And the sterility. But no, I’m not here for me. It’s my special somepony.”

“Ah,” said Madame Tickler, her eyelids falling into a knowing expression. “That makes more sense. What is it this time? Burns? Broken limbs? Castration? Decapitation? Disembowelment?”

“I never decapitated anypony,” protested Toaster. She looked back into the hospital nervously, and Madame Tickler seemed to pick up on the fact that Toaster was genuinely concerned.

“Here,” she said, taking Toaster by the shoulder and leading her back to the chairs. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened?”

Toaster nodded and allowed herself to sit down, taking her folded clothing and holding it against her chest. Madame Tickler sat down beside her.

“So,” said Madame Tickler. “Let me guess. You tried to have sex with him?”

Toaster shook her head. “Oh, no. I didn’t try. I succeeded.”

Madame Tickler’s eyes widened. “You…you actually did? You really got it in?”

Toaster nodded.

“Celestia,” whispered Madame Tickler. “That must be some stallion to survive getting that far.”

“Oh, he definitely is,” said Toaster. “Bread is the kindest and gentlest and durablest stallion I’ve ever met…which is why I feel so bad…”

“What did you do?”

Toaster took a deep breath. “Well…apparently all that training you gave me really took hold.”

“I don’t understand.”

Toaster sighed and looked her former boss in the eye. “He came so hard his sister passed out.”

“Oh my…you mean you put him in the hospital…with sex?”

Toaster nodded.

“Well, that makes both glad and regretful that I fired you. Did you at least enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah,” said Toaster. “It felt weird at first. I mean, I’ve put stuff in there before, but it was different with a real stallion…”

“It always is,” said Tip Tickler, somewhat darkly.

“Although we did have a problem with finishing too fast.”

“That happens to stallions sometimes. Especially the young ones.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t Bread who had the problem,” said Toaster, quickly. “It was me.”

“You? YOU?”

“Yeah…apparently, I’m a one hump chump. She even reduced the size for me…”

“She?”

“Oh,” said Toaster. “Pronoun confusion. Sorry. My special somepony is a changeling. All changeling drones are sterile females.” Toaster shrugged. “So, I guess that makes me a filly-fooler. But I’m okay with that. Mostly because he never really uses a female form.”

“You did it with a changeling? Really?”

“Yeah,” said Toaster.

“Wow,” said Tip Tickler. “Honestly, I’m impressed. Even I haven’t pleasured a changeling, and I’ve got over forty thousand confirmed kills. I’ve had every kind of pony, griffons, goats, rams, bulls- -I even took on a whole pack of diamond dogs once- -but never a changeling.”

“It’s pretty great. He can shapeshift into anything. Sometimes we roll play. I like the one where he turns into dude-Leera. I even have a Bon Bon wig.”

“I don’t know who those ponies are.”

“Oh. I live with Leera, in her basement.” Toaster sighed. “I don’t know how she feels about living with a filly-fooler. Her coltfriend Bon Bon spends a lot of time with her, and he seems really conservative.” Toaster leaned in closer. “I think he’s Italian.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Tip Ticker. “If they’re your friends, they’ll accept you for who you are.”

“Yeah,” said Toaster. “Yeah. I think they will.”

“So, this special somepony,” said Madame Tickler, leaning closer to Toaster with a serious expression. “Did you take my advice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you give your gift to somepony that you truly care about, like I never could?”

“Yes. Oh yes,” said Toaster. “Yes. I love him. I really do. I think we really care about each other, and we’re just so similar. I mean, look.” Toaster held out the clothing that she had worn into the hospital that she was no holding in her forelegs. Tip Tickler recoiled when she saw that it was a clown costume. “We even have the same fetishes.”

“That’s good,” said Tip Ticker, hugging Toaster. She smelled nice, and Toaster hugged her back. As overbearing as her boss always had been, Tip Tickler was the closest thing Toaster had ever had to a mother. “So…are you in a long-term contract?”

“For now,” said Toaster.

“So you’re leaving the business? I would not blame you if you did. You’ve been having quite a bit of success in the modeling business.”

“It isn’t that much.”

“Not much? Don’t be a fool. Although that’s probably difficult for you. You’ve launched Lacy Leather into the national spotlight. She has subsidies in both Canterlot and Detrot already. Her wares are defintily top shelf. I mean, I’m wearing it right now.”

“You are?” Toaster looked down at Tickler. She just seemed to be wearing an ordinary if slightly low-cut suit jacket.

“Underneath, yes. When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, you always come prepared for…ahem… ‘negotiations’.”

“You mean for the 29th Street House line? But Lacy Leather isn’t into ponies…”

“Come now, little Toaster. Everypony is into me. Even you would do me if I asked you to.”

“Yeah I would,” said Toaster, leaning against Tickler’s shoulder. Tickler’s fuzzy wing went out behind Toaster, draping over her shoulders.

“It’s not just professional use either,” said Ticker. “You’ve given a lot of hope to off-color fillies all over Equestria. I’ve had triple the applicants in strange colors. Some were actually pretty good. There’s even a billboard of you.”

“Billboard…which picture did they use?”

“Not the best,” admitted Tip Tickler. “But…”

“But what?”

“But it does tend to attract significant crowds of stallions at the base.”

“It’s not the one where I’m spreading my legs, is it?”

“Let’s just say that your stumpy little tail just barely covers everything that needs to be covered.”

“It’s not that stumpy,” said Toaster, pulling on her tail. The fluff had mostly grown back after having been burned off, as had her coat, but it was still nowhere near as floofable as it had been before.

They sat together for a moment, waiting for the doctors to get back with word on Bread’s condition. Instead of doctors, however, the front door opened and a small group of ponies stepped in.

“Leera!” cried Toaster, jumping up.

“It’s…why do I even bother,” said Lyra.

“And Scootaloo, and Bon Bon!” cried Toaster.

“Which is which?” asked Tip Tickler, suddenly confused.

“Who are you?” asked Lyra.

“Oh, this is Tip Tickler,” explained Toaster, standing up and gesturing. “She used to be my boss when I worked at the brothel.

“I like your wings,” blurted Lyra, who was promptly elbowed by Bon Bon.

“Thank you,” said Tip Tickler. “They are very soft, little one. But of course, I’m a bit past my prime. Many of my girls have much softer and more ticklish wings…if you’re interested…”

“She’s not,” said Bon Bon darkly.

“And these are my friends,” continued Toaster. “Lyra, Bon Bon, and Sctootaloo.”

“This is Bon Bon?” said Tip Tickler, pointing at the earth pony.

“Yes.”

Tip Tickler looked at Bon Bon and then at Toaster. “You know she’s a mare, right?”

“No, Bon Bon is definitely a stallion.”

“I’m a mare,” confirmed Bon Bon.

Toaster gasped and turned to Lyra. “Leera! You’re a filly fooler!”

“Well, I, ah- -”

“Filly fooler group hug!” Toaster promptly leapt forward and engulfed Lyra and Bon Bon in a large hug. “You can join too, Scootaloo.”

“Um, no,” said Scootaloo. “I’m not into mares. I’m into Rainbow Dash.”

“Fair enough,” said Toaster, releasing the other two mares. “But what are you all doing here?”

“We came to see Bread,” explained Scootaloo. “We heard you bucked his brains out.”

“I assure you, his brains remained quite inside his head,” said Toaster. “At least, I hope they did.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the only thing that was in somepony’s head last night.”

“You know it.”

Toaster and Scootaloo high-hoofed.

“So, did he go for the ears?”

“Oh, no. He’s a true gentlecolt. He’d never do that. But…”

“But what?”

“Butt…”

“Oh. Yeah.” Scootaloo smiled and turned to Lyra. “Hey, now that Toaster’s a mare, do you think I’m next?”

“If anypony tries it with you at your age, I will horn them to death myself,” said Lyra.

“Kind of like Bread horned Toaster?”

“You rubbed horns?” said Lyra, surprised.

“We rubbed a lot more than horns. But yeah. It was really special.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Bon Bon. “You mean I can’t love a pony without a horn? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Bon Bon- -”

“You don’t need a horn,” said Tip Tickler. “Just put a hoof on either side, twist, and then run one right down the bottom midline real slow. Although, if you try that, you might want to bring a towel.”

Lyra blushed heavily and tried to change the subject. “Pinkie Pie would have come, but she’s real busy preparing Bread’s get-well party.”

“Really?” said Toaster. “But is isn’t she making preparations for her mom’s visit later this week?”

“She thinks this is important.”

“Oh. Well, I hope her mother’s visit still goes okay. I really want to meet her. Although I don’t know what myself and a matronly rock farmer will have in common.”

“Speaking of family,” said Bon Bon. “I believe that Twilight just acquired two new guards for her castle from the Toastmasters.”

“So?”

“So, they’re your sisters!”

Toaster gasped for quite a while but managed to stop just short of passing out. “I have SISTERS?”

“It’s part of some diplomatic mumbo-jumbo,” said Lyra. “That and to guard all those egg-boxes of inactive frost warlocks that haven’t been reformed or shipped out to Tartarus yet. Frankly, the Toastmasters are not happy with Twilight right now- -but none of them seem to want to try to assassinate you for some reason.”

“They’re not the only ones doing some ‘ass’assinating,” said Scootaloo.

“Just call me your hit-mare.”

Scootaloo snorted loudly and burst out laughing.

“He doesn’t hit you, does he?” asked Tip Tickler discretely.

“Only when we have a safe word.” Toaster ran her hoof through her bangs and short rear hair, actually feeling herself blush slightly. She liked the feel of the soft short green hairs on her head, and apparently Bread liked it to. That was one of the main reasons Toaster had chosen to keep her haircut.

“Miss Toaster?”

Toaster turned around, and saw that Bread was being brought in on a wheelchair, his wings still sticking out fully erect.

“Bread!” cried Toaster. She jumped across the room and promptly landed flat on her face on the tile floor. After much cringing by the others in the room, Toaster stood up and actually walked over to Bread and hugged him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you? I should be thanking you,” he said, somewhat weakly. “I just wasn’t prepared for you to be that…good.”

“We barely managed to get the swelling down before the three hour mark,” said the doctor. “But then he told me that he’s actually a changeling, so, well, we just shapeshifted him female. Fixed the problem right away. Then it was just a matter of fluids, electroshock therapy, and rest. It wasn’t the first time he’s been in here, and it isn’t the last. Wings still haven’t gone down, though.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Toaster, straddling Bread in the chair. “I can help with that.” She bent down and began to gently preen Bead.

“Toaster, wait- -ohhh!- -you’re making it- -ahh! Yes!- -why does being in public make this feel so much better?!”

Scootaloo’s tiny wings pomfed, and she looked back at them. “Well, turns out I’m definitely not a filly fooler.”

“Good for you,” said Tip Tickler. She passed Scootaloo a business card. “Call if you ever drop by in Canterlot,” she whispered. “My girls can do rollplay. I have a blue one you might like. We can even dye her hair.”

Toaster threw back her head as Bread moaned with pleasure and spit a mouthful of feathers back onto him. Then she picked him up by the hoof.

“What- -where are we going?” he said.

“It’s lunch time! You taste hungry! I’m pretty full, mostly of foam rubber, but you need to eat! Then we’re going to go to the pond and feed the duckies, and then muffin-making with your sister, and THEN I’ll do the most horrible pony things to your tiny shapeshifting body…but this time, slower and more gently.”

“When you say ‘muffin-making’?”

“We mean muffin making,” said Bread and Toaster sharply.

“Perverts,” said Scootaloo.

“Says the pony who drilled a whole in Bread’s wall.”

“You- -you saw?” cried Scootaloo. “Wait a minute- -you knew, and still did that stuff? I mean, what hole? There’s no hole!”

“Oh, there is a hole,” said Toaster, seductively. She stepped behind Bread and pushed him toward the door with her head. “Come on! I’ll buy us all lunch with my mostly-naked sexy clothes money!”

The other ponies laughed, and they headed for the door. Bread eventually started walking on his own without Toaster pushing him, if a little bit stiffly. Toaster followed the others, and, upon reaching the door, pushed it open with both hooves. The sky was beautiful, the air was fresh, and much of the damage that she had caused had been rebuilt. Birds were singing, ponies were also singing, and Toaster was with her friends in the first place she had ever truly fit in. Here in this place, her color did not matter, and neither did her inability to use real magic. Ponies accepted her, and she accepted them.

The doors promptly slammed back on Toaster, knocking her over. As she stood back up, though, she knew that she was truly happy.

Chapter 1: Don't Worry, I'm a Professional

Everything was ready. Quickly, Toaster’s eyes flitted across the room, taking one last final inventory of everything in her room. The bed was made perfectly, its glossy high-thread count comforter gleaming in the dim, incandescent light. The light itself had been set to 2000K at exactly 3 lux, directed toward the intricate glossy wallpaper. Mints were placed in a small bowl on the nightstand, and a several boxes of “supplies” had been placed around the room, including the black-marble lined bathroom, ready to accommodate the client in whatever he might need.

Toaster stopped at a mirror against one of the walls and inspected herself. Her makeup, as always, was done perfectly- -focusing almost hyperbolically on her eyes with eyeshadow and mascara, but conservative on the lips and cheeks. That was a common mistake, of course; reducing the lipstick to little more than a thin line of red accentuated the eyes far more, and eyes were what the stallions were really looking at.

She adjusted her clothing slightly, ensuring that her stockings and saddle were attached perfectly. Not that they would stay on for long, of course, but initial appearance was critical. Toaster sighed, seeing that even though the garments fit her perfectly, the color was still off. That, of course, was unavoidable. Virtually no color matched her deep chocolate coat, and those that did looked hideous against her green mane. She had been forced to go with a combination of purple and pastel blue, which was not adequate but not as stunning as she would have hoped.

Beside the mirror was a small bottle of perfume. Toaster lowered her horn to pick it up but, remembering what happened last time, decided that she should use her hooves instead. She picked it up and sprayed the highly floral scent onto herself, coughing from the acrid mist.

As she tried not to choke on the smell, she suddenly noticed that she had made a terrible mistake. She had forgotten to light the lines of candles that filled the room.

“Buck me,” she swore, knowing that it would not be the first time she would be saying that phrase this night. There was no time to find a match, so she had no choice.

Toaster lit her horn, the tip igniting deep red. A narrow beam shot out, sliding across the room. The candles were cut in half and instantly ignited from the heat. A long burn mark was also pyrolized through the wallpaper and into the gypsumboard behind them. That as bad, but at the angle she had cut the candles, the customer probably would not notice.

The nubs from the ends of the candles dropped onto the floor, rolling in every direction. As they did, the door creaked open. In a panic, Toaster swept up the tiny pieces of wax and wick and shoved them into her mouth.

Through the door stepped her customer for the night. He was an ordinary looking stallion, colored a light blue with wavy white hair. He was not terribly old, but not young either. He was wearing a tie and a jacket, as would be expected of any customer of Madame Ticker’s brothel.

Toaster swallowed the candle nubs and walked as seductively as possible over to the stallion.

“Oh my,” she said, feigning surprise and rubbing her shoulder past him as she inspected him, helping him remove his jacket. “Look at those muscles! Aren’t I a lucky filly!”

The stallion giggled awkwardly, and from his response Toaster could tell that he was nervous. He was probably new to the whole process of buying mares. That of course did not bother Toaster; there was no a stallion in existence that she would deny. Prostitution was, after all, her destiny.

She rubbed her professionally puffed tail past his nose, and he sneezed violently.

“That perfume,” he said, choking on it.

“You like it?”

“It smells like my grandma.”

“Oh,” said Toaster, freezing. Then she smiled mischievously. “So you’re THAT kind of pony…”

“What?! No!”

“Why don’t you just let grandma take care of you, then,” said Toaster, dropping the falsetto that she used to suppress the natural raspiness in her voice.

“Please don’t,” said the stallion.

“Fine, fine,” said Toaster. She leaned up against him, putting her foreleg over his back. “I can tell you’re a little new at this. There’s no need to worry. What you’re feeling is completely natural. I just want to be comfortable. We’re going to be spending all night together, after all.”

“Really?” said the stallion, somewhat surprised. “Because I checked the other mares, and they were all booked with several clients. You were the only one with open slots.”

Toaster’s eyes narrowed. “A clerical mistake, I’m sure,” she muttered. Her tone caused the stallion to recoil slightly, and she switched her tone back to her professional voice, internally cursing that she had let herself slip. “But this is good for you. Because my slot is only open for you tonight…”

She crossed the room and sprawled out on the bed, spreading her legs enough to be seductive but not enough to reveal exactly what was beneath her skirt and fluffy green tail. “So come on, you stud. This is all yours, every inch of this mint chocolate body.”

The stallion smiled nervously, and Toaster could see that the was already getting aroused. He climbed onto the bed and kissed Toaster deeply. He quickly recoiled, though, smacking his lips in disgust.
“Why do you taste like candles?” he asked.

“Reasons,” said Toaster, feeling herself breaking out into a cold sweat.
The stallion shrugged, and then turned her over onto her belly. Toaster looked back at him and saw him looking around the room.

“Um…do you have any condoms?”

“Of course not,” said Toaster, laughing. “I’m a licensed prostitute! We have daily testing for STD’s. It’s a requirement.”

“So you don’t have any, then?”

“Nope.”

“So, what? If you get diagnosed, do they fire you?”

“If they can’t treat it, yeah. Assuming we survive.”

“Sur…survive?”

“Oh yeah,” said Toaster, laying her head on the pillow of her bed, her rump still raised in the air. “There’s just so many…I mean, take swamp fever. It affects the blood, so you get anemic. Pale, thin, tired. Then comes the sudden death. Or, if you survive, you never walk again. Or the PIV. You waste away until there’s nothing left. Or syphilis. Your body gets all covered in sores, and your coat falls out…and then come the skeletal deformities, madness, and, well, dead. But of course most are just real gross. Like gonorrhea. Pus out the penis and all. Or that one disease that makes your balls fall off.”

“O…okay…” said the stallion nervously, his shaking hooves still on Toaster’s hips.

“Oh, but the worst is Aphrodite’s Revenge. It makes your insides, well…become your outsides. And you’ll never guess out of which orifice!”

“So…you don’t have any of those?”

“Nope! Tested negative! And those tests are right a whole eighty two percent of the time! Ain’t science grand?”

“Eighty…eighty two?”

“And I won’t get pregnant either! I’m on the best birth control money can buy!” Toaster paused for a moment. “At least…I think I took it this week. Did I? Yeah, I did…or did I? Hmm…probably. You might want to pull out just in case.” Her eyes narrowed seductively. “Or put a foal in me. I don’t mind. But you will be paying child support.” She laughed.

“I’m…I’m not so sure about this…”

Toaster suddenly felt her heat accelerate. It was happening again.

“Hey, now,” she said, shaking her tail just slightly. “If you’re really that concerned, you can plot me. I won’t even charge you extra. And you know I’m good for it. I could probably cinch pipe in there.”

“You mean…in the butt?”

“Unless I have a second plot, yessss.”

“But doesn’t that hurt?”

“Quite a bit, actually.” Toaster lifted her tail, exposing herself to the stallion. “So come on and make me scream.”

The stallion looked back to the door, as if he were planning to leave- -but it was clear to Toaster that he had already started thinking with his head instead of his brain. He smiled and leaned forward, pulling up Toaster’s skirt. It took all of Toaster’s strength to suppress her giggling. She was finally going to make some money.

Then, all at once, the pony stopped. Toaster felt his hooves on his flank- -on her cutie mark.

“Um,” he said. “Why…why is your cutie mark a toaster?”

Toaster pushed her face into the pillow, then turned back to her customer. She smiled and maintained her professionalism despite her panic. She put on her most seductive smile. “Because stallions put their ‘bread’ into me, of course. But don’t worry, I haven’t burned any of them yet.”

“Oh,” said the stallion, laughing as he gripped Toaster’s shoulders and prepared to take her.

“Well,” said Toaster, “actually…there was that one time. Or several times. But they all recovered! I’ve never burned a stallion so badly that he didn’t get better!”

“Um…”

“Well…except for that one time. But he survived! Oh, um, actually, ‘she’ now. Yeah. But I’ve never killed anypony through immolation! Actually…well…”

“You know what?” said the stallion, getting off Toaster’s back without even having penetrated her. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“What? No! Wait!”

“I’m sorry, miss…but I knew this was a bad idea.” He grabbed his jacket and reached for the door. “I mean, thank you for trying and all, and I’ll still pay you for your time, of course…”

He reached for the doorknob and jumped back as a narrow beam of red light reduced it to a flaming, molten mass.

“That’s not good enough,” said Toaster, slowly descending from the bed. Her desperation has now completely erased her professionalism. Her green eyes were narrowed, and her voice was now low and threatening.

“Please, miss, what…what are you doing?”

“I’m a prostitute. I have sex for bits. It’s what I do. It’s my special talent. Prostitution is my LIFE. I’m not just going to take your money, you fool! You are not leaving here until you take your horse dick, shove hard and deep into at least one of my holes, and get your money’s worth out of me!”

She reached out with her magic, which poured out of her horn like a plume of fire. IT stretched across the room, grabbing the stallion by his tie. He screamed as he was pulled forward and the heat singed his coat. Toaster knew that the walls were soundproofed, though. No pony would hear his cries for help.

“Please, stop!” he cried. “I have a wife and children!”

The intense heat from Toaster’s magic burned through his tie, and he suddenly fell backward onto the floor. He skittered toward the door, but Toaster was too fast. She leapt on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

“You are going to have sex with me,” she said, glaring into his terrified eyes and putting her hoof between his legs, finding him disappointingly flaccid. He tried to clench them closed.

“Please! Just- -just let me go!”

“Open your legs,” said Toaster, slowly. “Or I will do it for you…and you do NOT want to see what happens if I use my magic on a pony directly.”

“HELP! HELP!” cried the stallion.

“Quit it!” cried Toaster, feeling her tears smearing her thick makeup. “You wanted a prostitute! I am a prostitute! Just have sex with me!”

Her pleading was punctuated by a sudden surge of light as the stallion pulled down a lamp and slammed it into her head. Her thoughts momentarily skipped from the impact, but she held onto him even as he tried to escape, keeping her forelegs around his waist.

“Please!” she cried through her concussion. “I’ll do anything! It doesn’t have to be sex! I can just kiss! We can cuddle! Just let me do something! Please!”

“You’re crazy! CRAZY!”

Toaster was about to protest when a sharp pain suddenly hit her. It was not from the impact of the lamp against her head, but from inside her.

“Oh…I shouldn’t have eaten all those candles…”

Then, before she realized what was happening, a small sound broke the air. The room went silent, and the stallion stopped struggling. His eyes and Toaster’s both turned slowly toward her rump, where the sound had originated.

That was the last straw. Toaster just let go and buried her head into the hardwood floor.

“Um, miss,” said the stallion.

“Just go,” she said.

The stallion looked down at Toaster in pity, and then pushed open the door. Although the doorknob had been melted, the door itself had not been sealed; in fact, the mechanism that controlled the locking system had burnt away with the doorknob itself, meaning that the door swung freely. The stallion was just glad that it was only the door’s knob that had been destroyed. He vowed to return home to his wife and to never again look at another mare.

Toaster was left alone in the dimly lit room, her face buried into the wood. Yet again she had failed, and she just could not figure out why. The open door allowed some sound into the room: that of so many other prostitutes successfully pleasing their clients: carefully scripted moans and gasps and the creaking of mattresses. In all this sound, Toaster sat alone, sobbing into a cold wooden floor.

Chapter 9: Pinkie is the Villain in this Story

There was a general roar of generic noise as the ponies filtered into the main town meeting area outside of Ponyville town hall. Much of their mumbling discussion concerned confusion over why exactly they had been summoned, or how the summonses had somehow managed to appear inside their homes, sometimes several at a time, all attached to various household objects. Others wondered why they had been called to meet in the dark, with a few suggesting that it was more ominous.

Then, just when they all had gathered and began to mill about, Pinkie Pie appeared on the stage. She momentarily looked out at the crowd and blinked. She was used to the fact that many ponies in Ponyville looked almost identical to each other, especially in crowds, but this time she thought that for just a moment she had seen an unusual number of identical blue, gray-eyed unicorns.

“Hey!” cried a voice from below. “You’re not the mayor!”

“Says who?” said Pinkie Pie. “I’ve got her poofy tie.” She patted the blue-green ploof tied around her neck.

“That doesn’t count!” somepony yelled back. Pinkie sighed. After all the trouble she had gone through to get it from Mayor Mare’s closet, it did not seem to be making her any more official.

“No, I’m not the mayor,” she said. “Mayor Mare is up with Twilight in the castle discussing boring stuff…while we mere mortals have a CRISIS on our hooves!”

A green pony with a bifurcated antler for a horn raised his hoof. “Um…I’m not a mortal…”

“Then get the buck out! You’re not even in this story!”

Buttery Snake sighed, and then left, sad.

“Where was I,” said Pinkie Pie, taking out a set of notes from beneath her borrowed collar. Having straightened hair was terribly annoying in that she could not store things in it, but she needed to fit the part. “Oh yeah. A CRISIS EVERYPONY!”

“What kind of crisis?” asked a pony from below the stage. “Monster attack?”

“No.”

“A changeling invasion?”

“No…”

“Discord is back?”

“Getting colllllder…”

“Poor editing?”

“I told you to get out! And NO! Worse! We have…” Pinkie Pie took a deep breath, gaining the will to speak the horror that had befallen their fair village. “A harlot!”

The crowd was silent, and a cricket sounded somewhere in the darkness.

“Uh, I don’t know what that means,” said one of the ponies, a mare named Daisy.

“She means a prostitute,” explained Cheerilee.

“What did you just call me?” said Cheerilee’s sister, Berry Punch, drunkenly.

“Pinkie Pie,” said a white unicorn, and Rarity stepped forward. “Um…don’t you think you may be…well, just a teensie little bit…overreacting?”

“Overreacting? OVERREACTING? If anything, I’m UNDERreacting!”

“Well, its just that…having a prostitute, though repugnant and, quite frankly, distasteful if not insulting to our fair community…isn’t that big of a deal. In Canterlot, it’s not uncommon for young mares to- -”

“Well, this ain’t Canterlot,” said Applejack, pushing through the crowd, her family behind her save for Applebloom, who was too young to be hearing about sex. “This is Ponyville. And I’ve seen this…this…seductress myself!”

The crowd gasped in unison.

“Yeah! Ah did! And she very nearly forced herself onto mah big brother and cousin Brayburn. Isn’t that right, Big Mac?”

Bic Mac, behind the group, squeezed his poofy sheep wife Loving Ewe closely and with tears in his eyes responded with a single long “Eeeeyup.”

“Now just wait an apple-pickin’ minute, here!” said Granny Smith, creaking out from beside Big Mac. “I think you’re mischaracterizing the situation!”

“Granny Smith, you saw what she did! She tried to rape my brother!”

“Really? You mean a little unicorn could overpower two genuine, bona-fide, full-grown Apple stallions?”

“But she had her fancy magic!”

“If Big Macintosh wanted to, he could have tossed her halfway to Appleloosa!”

“Unwanted advances are still unwanted advances!”

“That may be well and true, and that was wrong, but she couldn’t have done a thing even if she tried! And she did try!”

“Eeeyup,” added Big Mac, still shaken but now slightly ashamed now that he realized that Granny Smith was right.

“I think you’re missing the point,” said Pinkie Pie, taking back attention from the crowd. “That was just a taste of what she’s going to do to us! Do you have any idea what a harlot will DO to Ponyville?”

Fluttershy huddled next to Rarity. “Wh…what?”

Pinkie Pie dropped down from the stage and approached Fluttershy, her eyes wild. “She’ll encourage perversion, immorality, and sin within our community, leading to the a plague of debauchery the likes of which you can’t even IMAGINE!”

“Oh my,” said Fluttershy. “That’s quite a lot of debauchery.”

“You have no idea.” Pinkie Pie looked around, then popped across the crowd, leaning against a pointy-nosed pink pony and her brown, well-dressed husband. “First, she’ll come and take all our stallions, luring them into her nethers with the sickly sweet smell of peanut butter…”

“She had better not,” said Spoiled Rich, looking angrily at her husband as though just by being male he had already committed the aforementioned crime.

“Oh, she will!” cried Pinkie, stepping back. “And once she has them all in her clutches, she’ll fill them with all kinds of horrendous diseases!”

“Not diseases!” cried a pony.

“And that’s only the half of it! Not even half! More like three eights or so!” She jumped across the Cheerilee. “Once the children see a harlot in their midst, their impressionable minds will be corrupted. They’ll start having sex non-stop, in their parents’ house, in public, in SCHOOL! They’ll all be perverted freaks, all pregnant, foals having foals and their mothers joining the harlot horde!”

“Not the children!” cried Cheerilee. “Won’t somepony please think of the children!”

“And it doesn’t end there.” Pinkie Pie appeared beside Big Mac. “Her perversion will lead to GREATER sin. Soon, bestiality will be commonplace!”

“Not that! Anything but that!” cried Loving Ewe, holding her husband close.

“That’s right!” cried Pinkie Pie. “Soon we’ll all be compelled to mate with everything that moves, and some things that don’t! We’ll all be having sex with HORSES by the time the month is over!”

“AHH!” cried Berry Punch, nearly spilling her wine. “I ALREADY have sex with horses!”

“Then it’s already started!” cried Pinkie Pie, causing the crowd to begin to panic.

“No wait a minute, Pinkie,” said Applejack, stepping forward. “All that sounds…well, a bit farfetched. But we already HAVE sex with horses. Because, you know, we are. Well- -” She looked behind her at Granny Smith’s disapproving scowl. “I don’t. But, you now, we’re all ponies and such.”

“It’s not just that!” cried Pinkie Pie, jumping onto the stage. “She’s already become violent, trying to undermine our community! Look what she did to Rainbow Dash!”

Pinkie Pie produced Rainbow Dash and lifted one of her wings, showing where her blacked flight feathers had been cut away. The crowd gasped, and several Pegasi clenched their wings and several more ponies fainted outright.

“Yeah!” said Rainbow Dash. “She shot me down right out of the sky! Burned my wings so bad, I won’t be able to fly for a whole week!”

“See!” cried Pinkie Pie, the crowd starting to grow increasingly angry at the prostitute in their town.

“Although,” added Rainbow Dash. “It WAS pretty cool dodging all those lasers. Like something out of a videogame. I mean, that part was awesome. Bu the getting hit with lasers was bad.”

“Exactly!”

“Well, except that I performed the most EPIC emergency landing EVER! I mean, you should have seen it, I was totally spiraling out of control but still managed to pull up at the last second and drop into a cloud- -”

“Dash…”

“Plus, she only burnt my feathers, so now I get a week off so I can work on dees abs,” she pointed down at her pony-gut. “You know, for core strength.”

“Dash!”

“And she DID give me all that cider. I mean, it wasn’t as good as AJs, but there were like ten bottles there and that was nice. And she was actually kind of polite when she tried to- -”

“DASHIE!” cried Pinkie Pie. Then, through gritted teeth: “Stop. Undermining. My. ARGUMENT!”

“Oops. Sorry, Pinkie.”

“But what should we do?” cried a pony.

“WAIT!” called a voice. Before anypony could see where it came from, something gray and fast moving slammed into the stage, cracking through it. The ponies nearest jumped back, and then turned to see Muffins half-imbedded in the stage.

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Not his again…”

“I came as soon as I could,” said Muffins, her voice muffled due to her head being on the underside of the stage. “But I got lost on the way. Again.”

Rainbow Dash put her hooves around Muffins and pulled.

“How do you get- -oof- -lost? It’s like- -wow, you need to lay off the muffins- -like, five minutes from your house- -” She stepped back, unable to dislodge Muffins. The latter’s wings fluttered, and Rainbow Dash turned to Pinkie. “Do we have butter or something?”

“Butter later,” said a pony, stepping onto the stage. Every pony present did a double take when they saw an exact male replica of Muffins- -even down to the derped golden eyes- -step on the stage. “Pull Muffins now.”

He reached onto Muffin’s back and grabbed her by the base of her wings.

“Oh! Bread! Not while other ponies are watching! My down- -”

With one swift yank, he pulled her free, and Muffins fluttered into the air, immediately bumping into the awnings of town hall before stabilizing.

“What do you want, Derpy?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Don’t call her that,” said Bread, his crossed eyes narrowing.

“It’s okay, brother,” said Muffins. She turned to Pinkie Pie. “I just want to say that I’ve met Toaster, and she’s not a bad pony.”

Pinkie chuckled. “Clearly, you must have hit your head. Harlots ARE bad ponies. It’s in the name.”

“Har? Or lots?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“It was a figure of speech,” snapped Pinkie Pie.

“I didn’t get it,” said Bread.

“What I mean is,” said Muffins, “if we just sit down with her and explain the situation to her, she might- -”

“There is no reasoning with a harlot!” cried Pinkie Pie. “They don’t respond to logic! They just take stallions and spread filth! We need to protect our males from themselves, and get rid of her!”

“How?” cried a voice from the crowd.

“STONE HER TO DEATH!”

The crowd immediately all turned toward Tree Hugger. She was standing in the center of a large, empty circle- -because of ponies avoiding her rather pungent aroma- -and she just stared at them for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled and blinked extra slow.

“Oh,” she said. “I get it. Righteous.”

“Not like that,” said Pinkie Pie. “As in with ACTUAL stones! Or at least rocks!”

“Pinkie,” said Applejack. “I think we can all agree that havin’ a pony of the night in our town ain’t a good thing, but we can’t stone a pony.”

“Agreed,” said Rarity.

The entire crowd nodded and murmured in agreement.

“Well, that’s the way we used to do it down in rock country,” said Pinkie Pie. “Just ask Yulbee Magnesium-Iron-Silicate-Hydroxide.”

Muffins looked down at Pinkie, at least with one eye. “Oh! You mean cummington- -”

“Don’t you say it!” said Pinkie, pointing. “Or I will hoof you so hard!”

“If you try anything with her,” said Bread, “I will hoof YOU!”

“If you don’t calm down, I’ll hoof ALL of you!” said Rainbow Dash, who promptly blushed when she realized the double entendre.

Spoiled Rich raised her hoof. “Can we stop talking about…ehem…’hoofing’? It’s causing my husband to become aroused.”

“Sorry,” said Pinkie Pie. “But actually, I expected your response.”

“You did?” said Filthy Rich, his legs crossed tightly.

“No. Not that. That’s gross. Put some pants on. No. I may be ultra-conservative, but I’m not unreasonable. So I prepared a song…”

“Oh great…” said Rainbow Dash. “Not this again…”

“…but since songs render really, really bad in text form, I will suffice to say that having a harlot in town is not at all fun.”

“But Pinkie,” said a voice in the crowd. “What can be done?”

“Simple, really- -we just need to shun!”

“Shun?”

“Shun!”

“But Pinkie, is that something we really can do?”

“Indeed it is! I can do it, and so can you!”

“But isn’t it cruel, and wrong?”

“Why is this starting to sound just like a song?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Not at all!” said Pinkie Pie. “And it the effort it takes is just so small! If you see a whore running our beautiful day, then just turn and walk away!”

“But Pinkie,” said Rose, from below. “What if she comes and wants to buy a flower?”

“Then you slam your door in her face and glower!”

“And if she comes to try to buy a quill? What if she wants to by a couch?” asked the Sofa and Quill salespony.

“Then you leave, because staying would be gauche!”

“Okay, that one was a stretch,” said Bread.

“But it’s what you’ve got to do if you want to stop a letch! You’ve got to turn away, don’t give her the time of day, don’t even talk, just make her walk!”

“Put Pinkie,” said Muffins. “That’s mean!”

“Oh, Muffins, don’t be pistachio-green! Don’t you see, this toasty slut wants to hurt you, and she wants to hurt me! We can’t let her feel happy, or at home, we’ve got to reject her until she is GONE!”

Pinkie Pie winced. “Okay, that last line still needs some work.”

“Everypony check yourself!” said Rainbow Dash to the crowd. “See if you got a cutie mark or grew a pair of wings! Trust me, stuff like that happens WHENEVER there’s a song!”

As the audience checked themselves, a pony stepped forward. “So, you’re saying that we just have to avoid her, and not talk to her or sell her anything?”

“Yup. She’ll get the message and leave on her own.”

“Second question…does she actually smell like peanut butter?”

“I was being hyperbolic,” snapped Pinkie Pie.

“Actually, she kind of smells like burnt toast,” said Rainbow Dash.

“I like toast,” said Bread.

They all paused, and then Pinkie turned back to the crowd. “So who’s with me?”

They all cheered, ready to rid Ponyville of the great harlot threat. Not all joined in the excitement, though. Granny Smith just looked disgusted and turned away. Applejack, though she agreed, felt uneasy, and Fluttershy, still hiding under Rarity, only muttered an “oh dear”. Muffins, meanwhile, looked on the verge of tears and landed next to her brother, who put his foreleg around her to comfort her.

“There are cupcakes by the entrance!” cried Pinkie, perhaps too angrily. The crowd jumped in fright, and but dispersed slowly and evenly, moving out through Ponyville. Pinkie Pie smiled, knowing that her plan for the betterment of pony kind had been set in motion.

Chapter 19: Generally Crusty

“I can’t thank you enough for helping out with this,” said Twilight as she trotted through the oversized crystalline halls of her castle, dressed in clothing appropriate for a regional warlord, complete with a smaller version of her royal crown.

“Think nothing of it, dear,” said Rarity, following alongside Twilight in a light but elegant summer dress. “I just adore socializing with all of Equestria’s elite, and I’m honored that you chose me to help welcome a diplomat to our humble hamlet!”

“He’s not really a diplomat,” said Twilight. “I think he’s some kind of official from the Equestrian military.”

“Military? Here?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. Since I’m a princess now, Ponyville is technically my fiefdom. So, pretty much I own you all.” Twilight giggled. “You’re ALL my little ponies now! But yeah, he’s been touring Equestria recently to…well…for some reason…”

“You don’t know why?” said Rarity.

“Well, I don’t even…know who he is.”

Rarity froze. “You mean you have a high-ranking official from the Equestrian military coming to visit you- -complete with a reception party planned- -and you didn’t even bother to learn WHO he is?”

Twilight shrugged. “I’ve been busy. We had a gas main explode near the castle, like, two days ago. A whole bunch of the Rich family’s employees were injured, and no one seems to be able to remember what happened.” She the leaned close to Rarity, and her actual emotions became apparent. “I have no idea what I’m doing! I’m usually so prepared, I just don’t know what to do! And…and it makes me feel really funny…”

“Well, I’m sure it will be okay,” said Rarity, pushing Twilight back. “You do have me, after all.”

“Yes, I do. All that poise and stuff. Plus, I know he’s a unicorn, and you’re a white unicorn, which means if all else fails you can ‘distract’ him.”

“Excuse me?”

“And at least I managed to do SOMETHING right.” Twilight pointed to the griffon guards that were stationed at various corners of the hallways and patrolling the halls. “I managed to beef up security…or, as Rainbow Dash says, ‘beefcake’ up security. Whatever that means. Of course, I can only afford them for a week. They charge through the nose...or beak, as the case may be.” She turned to Rarity. “I just wish I had hired them in time to stop you from getting, you know, slapped silly.”

“I only wish they had been around to stop that poor girl Toaster from being accosted in the first place,” said Rarity. “Really, after what they did to her…I just don’t feel safe at night.”

“Don’t worry, Rarity. With all these griffons, we’re sure to catch the Ponyville Pugilist any day! And when we do, I can test out the dungeon that I had Spike dig!” Twilight laughed, and her humor rapidly became more insincere. “Sweet Me, I’m nervous.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Rarity. “I’m sure this whole visit will go quite well.”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “What could possibly go wrong?”

They arrived at the meeting room chosen for the initial part of the occasion. Twilight had planned out the entire event as best as she could, and had the list tucked under one of her wings. The day would start with a royal greeting, followed by a tour of Ponyville. A reception party had been planned for afterword with the mayor and representatives of the citizens, which Twilight imagined would entail a long and deliciously dull question-and-answer session. She had it all worked out.

Knowing that with even a short list nothing could possibly go wrong, Twilight pushed open the door- -and was immediately greeted with a large, green eye inches away from her face.

“Gah!” she cried, jumping back.

“LATE!” said the raspy, gravelly voice of the pony who had been lurking on the other side of the door. Even jumping backward in fright, Twilight was able to see an irate looking stallion staring her down. His overall coat color was a light caramel, with hair that must once have been flaming red now fading to gray. He was dressed in a olive-green uniform decorated with all kinds of doodads and military things to indicate how high-ranking he was.

The stallion pulled back his sleeve, revealing six separate watches. He pointed at them. “You are exactly one minute and sixteen seconds late, Princess Sparkle! In this time-zone alone! And it’s even worse in the next one, you’re an HOUR and one minute and sixteen seconds late!”

“But I’m early if you go the other way- -”

“LATE!”

Twilight was about to burst into tears from suddenly coming face-to-face with her worst fear: tardiness. Rarity noticed this and stepped forward.

“We really do apologize, General,” she said. “We were simply ensuring that everything was prepared for your visit.” She stepped forward again, and two heavily armored unicorn guards emerged from the shadows of the room. Rarity cried out, in part from the surprise and in part from how excessively ugly their full-body armor was.

“You brought guards?” said Twilight recovering slightly.

“I always travel with enough troops to launch an invasion should the need arise!” shouted the General, as though Twilight had just insulted him.

“But…there’s only three of you…”

The General moved his face close to Twilight’s again, glaring at her with one green eye. “What’s that? Did you just challenge me? Was that a declaration of war? Do you WANT me to invade you?” He paused, looking up, considering what he had just said. “Scratch that last one. It sounded dirty.” He stepped back and began to cross the room. “Well what are you both waiting for? I’m two time-zones early! Let’s get MOOOOVING!”

Rarity sighed. This was going to be a long day.

“And that over there is the town hall,” said Twilight, pointing. They had quickly moved through the town, and already shown him several sights of the carefully-crafted tour she had designed. Doing this caused Twilight to Realize that she had actually prepared pretty well- -except for not knowing what the General’s name was, or what branch of the military he was actually from.

“You mean you don’t govern yourself?” he said, breaking what had been a characteristic and stern silence.

“Oh, no,” said Twilight. “I mostly just managed friendship problems. My seat of power is mostly just ceremonial.”

“And yet you have enough magical potential to strangle this town beneath your iron hoof.”

“Oh, well, I don’t mean to brag, but…”

“I don’t think that was a compliment, dearie,” whispered Rarity.

“Oh.”

“About how much yeast does this village have?” asked the General.

“Yeast?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? YEAST! YEAST! YEAST!” He paused. “If you say it enough, it sure does sound strange.”

“I think Pinkie Pie keeps some,” cried Twilight. “But she specializes in quick breads, really.”

“So understocked, I see.”

They went back to walking. The weather was nice- -because Twilight had submitted the necessary forms in triplicate to make it that way- -but Twilight still felt terribly nervous. The General was difficult to read; even Rarity’s charm could not make him smile. Stranger, though, was that Twilight could not place his uniform or any insignias. That in itself was odd; both her father and brother had been in the Royal Guard, and she was familiar from her reading of all branches of the Equestrian military both past and present, dating back to the early Second Era.

None of the General’s markings were consistent with any branch of the Royal military, or with the independent Unicorn Army or Navy. He was most definitely not a Wonderbolt, nor was he from any known sub-fiefdom. He was certainly an Equestiran official, but Twilight did not know which.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. General…”

“Just General. General is the general title. It is also my name. General Crusty.”

“Your name is Crusty?” said Rarity, shivering slightly.

“GENERAL Crusty. Because my parents knew what I was destined for.”

“Well, I was just wondering,” said Twilight. “I don’t recognize your uniform…what branch of the military are you from?”

The General froze, and glared down at Twilight. She actually was shorter than him- -he was both a stallion and unusually tall, and Twilight, despite having lost her coat, had not yet grown to full alicorn height- -and he felt so intimidating.

“You didn’t read the briefing, did you?” he said, almost in a whisper.

“N…no,” admitted Twilight.

“Well, it wouldn’t have helped. It was calculated misinformation.”

“You…you made a briefing that was misinformation?”

“Can’t be do careful. I don’t even know if I can trust YOU.”

“But I’m the Princess of Friendship,” squeaked Twilight.

“So what? I’ve never once had a friend, and I’m fine.”

“Never?” gasped Rarity.

“No. The Toastmaster General doesn’t need friends.”

“Toast…master?” asked Rarity. She looked to the side, and saw that Twilight was just as confused. “Does that mean you are…in charge of toast?”

The General bent down, glaring at Rarity. “Did you know that toast is Equestria’s leading export, and of vital economic importance to the state?”

“No it isn’t,” said Twilight.

“No, it isn’t, but it COULD be.”

“I guess…”

“So you…are in charge of…toast?”

“All toast! French, regular, burnt. We Toastmaster are tasked with maintaining the toast supply. As well as elite military action, which is more of a secondary objective. Imagine, picture it: the Questlords of Inverness invade this quaint and boring town. Who defends you? WE do!”

“There hasn’t been a living Questlord in over five thousand years,” corrected Twilight. “Not since they betrayed Celestia at the battle of- -”

“Well, then, frost warlocks! We are the last line of defense against frost warlocks in Equestria!”

“Frost warlocks are a myth!” cried Twilight.

“That’s just what they want you to think!”

Rarity stepped back, trying to find a way to diffuse the situation. It almost looked like the two of them were about to fight. If there was one thing that got Twilight riled, it was historical inaccuracies- -and from what Rarity knew about Twilight, this could rapidly turn into a full-out hoof fight. The two silent, masked Toastmaster guards also seemed to sense this, and were preparing for aggression.

Before Rarity could come up with a solution, she heard the sound of laughing. She looked up to the source.

“Oh no,” she said, feeling a migraine forming at the base of her horn. There, crossing the road directly into their path was Toaster- -dressed in full prostitute uniform, complete with fishnets and a tiny lacy top so small that she might as well have been naked. She was not alone, either. Next to her was Fluttershy- -still wearing Toaster’s “borrowed” clothing. “Fluttershy, why?” moaned Rarity. “Why now?”

Two extremely excited unicorn colts were running around Fluttershy and Toaster, but when Toaster got into the middle of the street, everything went silent. The General stared up at her, and Toaster stared back. Twilight continued to argue for a moment, and then turned around. The look of mortification on her face was almost painful to look at, as well as the embarrassment of now having to explain the sudden presence of the town hooker to a military official.

There was something more in her expression, though. Rarity could not place it, because she had never seen Twilight look like that before. It was something like fear and anger, a dark aggression and surprise that was completely uncharacteristic of her.

Rarity was about to intervene, to try to do something before Toaster tried to proposition the General, but she moved too slow. Toaster broke the silence first.

“Daddy?” she said.

“Daddy?” cried Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, and the two colts. Fluttershy then promptly fainted from the drama, her girth nearly crushing the taller of the two colts who tried to catch her.

“Toaster?” said the General, wide eyed.

“Daddy!” cried Toaster, rushing forward.

Rarity breathed a long sigh of relief. The situation could have gone much, much worse. Now it seemed that it would be a touching family reunion instead of a complete disaster.

“ELIMINATE HER!” screamed the General.

The two guards stepped forward, charging their horns with fiery light. The heat was enough to cause Rarity to be forced back, and the guards pointed their horns directly at Toaster.

“Toaster, watch out!” cried Rarity.

Toaster did not even try to avoid the beams. They shot out toward her- -and were immediately absorbed by a red bubble that she unconsciously projected around herself. The feedback from the failed spell sent the two guards flying backward with smoking horns and cries that indicated that they were both female, but did not even slow Toaster.

“Daddy, I’ve missed you so much!” she cried, jumping and spreading her fishnet-clad forelegs in the air. “Hugs!”

The general charged his own horn, and Twilight was partially singed as the red light lashed forward. Toaster was struck directly in the chest and sent flying backward forty feet into a brick wall, which she promptly passed through.

“Is it weird that I have an erection?” said the smaller, gray colt.

“I thought it was just me,” wheezed the yellow one, who was being partially suffocated beneith Fluttershy’s immense weight.

“What did you do?” cried Rarity to the General. She started to run toward where Toaster was, to try to help her, but she felt toasty warm red magic wrap around herself.

“It will take more than that to do any real damage to her.” He turned to Twilight, who was still gaping at Toaster. “Princess Sparkle! Teleportation spell! Now!”

“The symbols…” said Twilight absently.

The rubble of the building started to move, and Toaster stood up, coughing dust.

“TELEPORT!! NOW!!”

Twilight obliged. Rarity saw felt space distort and momentarily saw the flash of wherever it was that they went when Twilight moved them. Then, one nauseating instant later, they were back in the castle. They had, in fact, emerged in the dining room where the reception was set to take place.

“Is the reception starting already?” said Mayor Mare. She then trailed off when she detected the tension in the room.

“What was that?” cried the Genreral. He descended on Rarity. “What was SHE doing here?”

“She- -she lives here, in Ponyville,” stuttered Rarity, unable to come up with a better response. “She has for…for over a week now- -”

“And what does she do? Why was she dressed like that?”

“She…she…” Rarity could not bring herself to say it, but a wide smile flashed from across the room.

“She’s the town prostitute,” said Pinkie Pie, setting down a plate of cupcakes made fresh for the occasion.

“Prostitute?” said the General, wide eyed. “My…my eldest daughter is a PROSTITUTE?”

Rarity shuddered. The situation had gotten worse, and it had gotten worse rapidly. Her mind was rapidly churning, trying to figure a way to get out of this situation, to get everything back on track. Then, one of the guards stood, helping the other to her feet.

“We will move to eliminate her immediately,” she said.

“Eliminate her?” gasped Rarity.

The General just laughed. “Do you think you could stand against HER? After getting your plots handed to you like that? You are both FAILURES. You make me sick!”

“Now that’s just uncalled for!” said Rarity. “They were doing the best that they could!” Rarity paused suddenly, realizing that she was justifying a sudden and potentially fatal unprovoked attack on a pony that she had since realized was not actually that bad.

“YOU,” said Twilight, stepping forward toward the General. The anger in her voice made every other pony- -even Pinkie- -step back in fear.

“I don’t have time for this, Princess Sparkle. I have to organize a military response.” He turned to leave, but as he walked away he was picked up like a toy in violet magic and turned back to Twilight.

“Unhoof me!” he said as he was set back down.

“Oh, I’ll more than unhoof you!” said Twilight. “That pony was your daughter. Am I right?”

“Yes. My oldest, and my most shameful failure.”

“Then what was that on her head?”

“You mean her horn? She is a unicorn.”

“I MEAN THE RUNES!” screamed Twilight.

“I have no idea what you are talking about- -”

There was a resounding slapping sound as Twilight back-hoofed the General’s face.

“Did you just hit me?” said the General. “That’s an act of war!”

“I’m a friggin god!” cried Twilight. “I can smack whomever I want! Do you think I don’t know what those marks were, what those…” Twilight shivered. “What those scars must have been?”

“You…you recognize them?”

“And I know that she did not put them on herself! No pony would curse herself with that fate! How could you! She’s your own daughter!”

“Twilight, I don’t understand,” said Rarity. She, of course, had seen the marks that were just beneath Toaster’s thin green fuzz of a mane. They looked like black letters, along with a lot of scars. She had never really given them much thought, though.

The Toastmaster General sighed. “I suppose I will have to disclose some classified information…”

The ponies that would have attended the reception took seats around the table. What had been meant as a party now became a summit. Attending were Twilight, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie, as well as Mayor Mare and a representative of the Ponyville schoolboards, Spoiled Rich. The General sat across from them, his green eyes fiery with impatience.

“This is a waste of time,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” said Twilight, who was equally as angry as the General. “This is a scheduled part of the event. And you are not going anywhere until you tell me what you did to that poor filly.”

The General sighed. “I did not ‘do’ anything to her that was not part of her natural-born duty.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rarity.

“Those were enhancement runes,” hissed Twilight.

The General nodded. “The Toastmasters are a very ancient order who has protected the toast supply for generations. Creating a proper heir is important. So, when my first daughter was born, I took precautions to ensure that she would be the best that she could be.”

“By what?”

The General seemed to be trying to dodge the question.

“Answer me,” demanded Twilight.

“We modified her,” he said, at last. “To make her a better pony.”

“You mean you took her magic from her,” cried Twilight.

“Twilight, what do you mean?” asked Rarity.

“Yes,” said the Mayor. “From a laypony’s perspective, this is all terribly confusing.”

“It means he reached into her mind and changed her.”

“We made her stronger, better,” argued the General.

“No,” said Twilight. “You took away the use of her horn!”

“No. Our calculations indicate that she can split a tank in half at nine hundred yards without any great effort.”

“But if she ever tries to touch anything with her magic, or to hold a lover, she’ll burn him to a crisp!”

“A necessary sacrifice,” said the General. “She was solely intended to be a weapon. Nothing more. She is built to kill. It is her only purpose.”

“And how would you know that?”

The General smiled. “Because we achieved something novel with her. Our surgeries allowed her to develop an appropriate cutie mark.”

“You mean…”

“We successfully chose her destiny for her.”

“That’s sick,” said Twilight after a long silence.

“Clearly, you’ve never had a daughter,” said Spoiled Rich, who was watching this all with a smile on her face. “It is only appropriate for a parent to choose what her child will become in life.”

“She understands,” said the General.

“So you…you changed her magic with a surgery?” said Rarity, looking to Twilight for conformation.

“No,” said Twilight. “Oh, no. That spell on her head, those marks. That’s not one surgery.”

“That is correct,” said the General, flatly. “She has been undergoing constant modifications since birth until about three years ago, when we lost contact.”

“You mean she was in the hospital that whole time?” said Rarity as the mayor gasped.

“Oh, no,” said the General. “In a controlled laboratory. No pony in or out, save the doctors. We did not even bother to teach her to walk until she was ten. Granted, she was in a medically induced coma for a lot of that time.”

“That explains why she can hardly read,” said Rarity.

“You didn’t teach her to READ?!” cried Twilight. Rarity had to jump up to physically stop Twilight from jumping over the table. “Let me go! We’re so mad we could…and there it goes! Great! You made me use the royal ‘we’!” She turned her head and yelled loudly, “SPIKE! GET THE MOP!”

“You’re disgusting, Twilight!” called Spike’s voice back from some unseen location. “There, I said it!”

“How did she get out?” asked Pinkie, who had remained mostly silent in the darkest, shadowiest part of the table and was ignoring the bathroom humor.

“One of the staff left a gate open. She wondered out.” He shrugged. “We assumed she died.”

“You just let your own daughter walk out, and didn’t even look for her?” Twilight had ceased to struggle, but she was still tense in Rarity’s grip.

“The surgery had…downsides. Her magic far more powerful than it would have been, but a lot of her brain had to be connected to her horn to manage to control it. There was not a lot left. Besides, I have since had a pair of daughters who will hopefully manage to succeed me far more successfully.”

“So you just let a living weapon into our town?” said Spoiled Rich.

“That is exactly the problem,” said the General. “She is not meant for ordinary life.”

“Because you took that away from her,” snapped Twilight.

“Because it is her destiny.”

“That you gave to her!”

“But her destiny nonetheless.” He looked Twilight in the eyes. “I don’t much care what you think of me. But what we did was right, and it was just, even if we failed. But that…that THING is a danger to your town.”

“I agree,” said Spoiled Rich. She leaned forward. “Why, just the other night, I was dining with my husband when she and a customer accosted me! For no reason at all!”

“Not to mention what she did to Rarity,” added Pinkie.

“Rarity?” said the General. “What’s a ‘Rarity’? Is that a pony? That’s a terrible name for a pony.”

“I’M Rarity,” said Rarity.

“Oh,” said the General. “You should really consider a name change, then. That, and you are extremely lucky to be alive.”

“Wait, what?” said Pinkie, suddenly inordinately agitated. “It was just a fight!”

“And one touch with her magic, and your poorly named and unattractive friend here would have been reduced to a steaming puddle.”

“UNATRACTIVE?!”

“I call it like I see it,” said the General. “But trust me, you’re not nearly as bad as Toaster’s mother.”

“Wait, you mean…you mean that Rarity almost DIED? And I don’t mean how she dyed her hair- -”

“PINKIE!”

“- -but, like, you know, kicked the bucket? Bought the farm? Got her assets liquidated? Did the one thing Twilight can never do?”

“You mean have a night of passion with a stallion?” said Spoiled Rich, smirking.

“The second to last one in that list sounded dirty,” noted the General. “But, yes.”

Pinkie Retreated back into her seat and sunk beneith the table, releasing an unpleasant moan.

“Don’t worry, Pinkie, she’s okay now,” said Twilight. “And it’s not like you had anything to do with the whole situation anyway.”

“Yeah…”

“That fight was not Toaster’s fault,” said Rarity, trying to remain some semblance of composure. “She was confused. And other ponies have treated her terribly- -they beat her far worse than she did to me!”

“No they didn’t,” said Spoiled Rich, rolling her eyes. “Are you ignorant? She CLEARLY made that up to garner sympathy.”

“I SAW the bruises,” said Rarity.

“Then she beat herself up,” said Spoiled Rich in an infuriatingly condescending voice.

“If she was beaten- -and I don’t doubt it, what with being the way she is- - the fact that she did not vaporize every pony involved is evidence that she is only half-baked.” The General stood suddenly. “But more to the point! You need to have her removed, immediately!”

“She’s made some mistakes,” said Twilight, “but she’s done nothing wrong. Aside from the beating.”

“And causing Fluttershy to dress so…cheaply,” added Rarity.

“She is NOT harmless!” cried Spoiled Rich.

“And she is clearly breaking the law,” said The General. “I do not know how she ended up selling her body to lusty, sweaty stallions, but she is dishonoring our family and the Toastmaster order as a whole.” He turned to the mayor. “I’m surprised you haven’t thrown her jail!”

“Ponyville doesn’t have a jail,” said the mayor.

“I have a dungeon,” said Twilight. “It even has a rack.”

“Then your dungeon clearly has something that you lack.”

“HEY!”

“He’s right, dearie,” whispered Rarity. “I advise against pressing that point.”

“And, frankly,” said the mayor, “we don’t have any laws on the books against pony prostitution.”

“What?” said the General, less surprised but more as though he were actually asking a question. “Mayor, you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, you’re Generalness, please. Call me Meyer. Mayor is just my job title.”

“So we’re letting a pony like THAT get away with it?” said Spoiled Rich. “I will not have this! I simply WON’T! As a member of the schoolboard, I demand that you get rid of her! I won’t have my daughter learning such…horrid things. It is simply not acceptable to trade sex for money!”

“Says the pony who made her fortune between Filthy Rich’s sheets,” said Rarity as sweetly as she possibly could. She turned to Pinkie Pie, who usually appreciated a good burn, but Pinkie did not laugh. She just stared at the surface of the table looking terribly gray and despondent.

“That, and I really have nothing against prostitutes,” said the mayor. “I mean, back in my days in the Royal Army, I met a lot of them. Not that I used their services, though. But they definitely helped my friends through some hard times. I remember one time when one of my friends ordered a pair of bulky, sinewy stallions with a month’s pay to give her the most passionate night of her life, and event which she still clops to every…” she saw all the other ponies looking at her, and promptly cleared her throat. “But that was defiantly NOT me who did that. Nope.”

“I didn’t know you were in the army,” said Twilight. “What rank were you?”

“Oh, I was a major.”

“Major Mayor Mayer Mare?” said Pinkie Pie, barely able to smile at the ridiculousness of the joke.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that gag much better executed in a book once…” said Twilight.

“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of things better executed in books than you can in real life,” said Spoiled Rich.

“Well, of course, although I’m usually good with- -hey!”

“The law is quite clear on this,” said the General. “This region falls under the jurisdiction of Canterlot proper. Freelance prostitutes are not permitted. I demand that she be arrested immediately!”

“Not so fast!” said a voice from the edge of the room. Every pony turned toward its source, and all of them were momentarily confused as to why Muffins was suddenly a dude.

Bread stepped forward to an empty spot on the table and set down a briefcase as he adjusted his glasses.

“Oh, well that’s just great!” said Twilight. “I’m spending, like, a four thousand nine hundred and fifty eight bits an hour for a veritable griffon army, and ponies are STILL just walking into my house?”

“You really could lock the doors,” noted Pinkie Pie.

“What the hay are all those griffons doing?! What am I paying them for in the first place?!”

“I believe,” said Rarity, “that Rainbow Dash demanded that they be hired for the same reason that Spoiled Rich hires barely of-age pool colts.”

“I may be rich,” said Spoiled Rich, “but I am not above smacking a mare!”

“Ladies,” said Bread. “And Spoiled Rich. My name is Bread, Esquire, her to advise on the legality of these issues.”

“You are a Derp,” said Spoiled Rich. “There is no way you are a real lawyer.”

Bread said nothing, but flipped open his briefcase and removed some papers. He passed them to Twilight, who read them over quickly.

“Wow,” she said, wide-eyed. “He actually does have a law degree. And a master’s degree, too.”

“In what?” asked the mayor, desperate to get a line in.

“Herpetology,” said Bread.

“So, does that make you a herp-Derp?” said Pinkie.

“Pinkie!” cried Twilight. “Do not insult the lawyer!”

“I can insult whoever I want. Especially the town whoremaster.”

“That’s a conflict of interest!” cried Spoiled Rich.

“It kind of is,” said the Mayor.

“I will admit, I am dating Toaster.”

“You’re dating my daughter?” said the General.

“You’re Toaster’s father?!”

The whole table went silent with awkwardness. Somewhere, a griffon sneezed, and Twilight wondered how that was possible.

“Annnnyway,” said Bread, pulling out a number of documents. “What the General said is wrong.”

“So you aren’t dating my daughter?”

“Oh, no. Not that part. I definitely am. I’ve even seen her naked.”

“Dear me!” cried Rarity, nearly fainting.

“Rarity,” said Twilight, “we’re ponies. We’re usually naked. Male-Muffins is naked right now. So is Pinkie.”

“But the shock of it all!”

“Nevertheless,” said Bread, “Ponyville, as a royal fiefdom, is subject to a hierarchal law structure.”

“Which means what?” said the mayor.

“It means that town laws function in general, but can be overruled at any time by royal degree. And in the absence of any necessary law, the situation reverts to royal decree.”

“Wait, you mean I can just make laws whenever I want?” said Twilight. “That doesn’t seem very democratic.”

“Our nation is ruled by a pair of immortal goddesses. You are an immortal god-ruler with the magical capacity to level a small city. We live in a racial autocracy, not a democracy.”

“Oh…neat…I guess…”

“So then decree,” said the General. “Banish her…or better yet, demand an execution.”

“Nope,” said Twilight.

“Nope? What is this nope?”

“Nope. I believe it is what Big Mac says for a negative.”

“It’s what he says when she asks him for a date,” said Spoiled Rich.

“I’m going to ignore that,” said Twilight, making a mental note to tax the Rich. “But it means I’m not going to force her to leave.”

“WHAT? You fool! She’s a living weapon! She is a curse, a blight, a disease on my family!”

“She is a PONY. It was YOU who did unspeakable things to your own daughter. You make me sick, General. Also, you made me wee, and I do NOT like weeing!”

“She really doesn’t,” said Pinkie Pie.

“I will not stand for this!” said Spoiled Rich.

“You don’t have a choice,” said Bread. “Your goddess has spoken.”

“Like Tartarus I don’t!” cried Spoiled Rich. “I will take Satin’s gold-plated hoof up my plot to the shoulder before I give this up! I have influence! I will make her life a living torment! She has to know that dirty things like her are not welcome in this town!”

“And I will help her develop friendships and find a loving place in Ponyville that she can call home,” said Twilight, calmly. “She may be violent, and her magical condition is…untreatable…but I will do everything in my power to help her.”

“You…you will?” said Bread.

Twilight turned toward him. “Yes you…you…I’m not really sure what you are or where you came from…but I promise that your fillyfriend is safe here in Ponyville, and I will not send her away.”

“Thank you, Princess,” said Bread, bowing.

“Seconded,” said the mayor. “First thing in the morning, I will call a meeting of the city council to draft laws governing the mechanisms of prostitution in Ponyville. Perhaps…yes, perhaps we can start an initiative for study stallions to get into the business….oh yes…”

“And we will vote it down!” cried Spoiled Rich. “Pinkamena, back me up on this!”

“Twilight,” whispered Pinkie. She looked up, with tears running down her face. “How could you?”

“I can’t turn away a pony in need,” said Twilight. “And I’m tired of your moping. Pony up and at least try to get along with her.”

“I will NEVER get along with a harlot,” said Pinkie, standing up and stepping toward the door. “Even one that’s a virgin…and has a steady coltfriend…”

“Well, I imagine she’s not going to be a virgin much longer,” said the mayor. “Isn’t that right, Bread?”

Bread looked slightly panicked as the General glared down at with unabashed and unlimited hatred.

“But you, Twilight! You were supposed to be my friend! Can’t you see what she’s doing to Ponyville? She’s ruining its innocence!”

“Pinkie, if you have a problem with her, why don’t you just go tell it to her?”

“Tell…tell…well, that would never work….um…because…” Her eyes widened, and she face-hooved. “Because I didn’t think of that.”

The meeting came to an end pretty quickly after that. The ponies did not stay for the reception, largely because Pinkie’s heart was no longer in it. The mayor went back to wherever it was she lived, and Spoiled Rich stormed off. Pinkie just seemed to disappear. Spike came with the mop, and Rarity went to “freshen up”, which Twilight assumed meant she was pooping. Or, as Spike called it, “sitting on the royal throne”.

With the day now over and the sun starting to set, Twilight made her way into the dark hallways. As she did, though, she saw that the General was waiting for her in the darkness.

“I’m surprised,” he said to her. “You are not nearly as weak and useless of a leader as I expected. Very decisive indeed, even if you are horribly incorrect. I suppose I have slightly more respect for you now.”

“Thank you,” said Twilight, curtly, walking past him as though she were actually going somewhere.

“Which is why I am willing to let you choose.”

“Choose?” said Twilight, turning back. This pony was starting to annoy her, and she wanted him out of her house. “I already chose.”

“Not with all the information,” said the General.

“I had all the information. I even got a lawyer in here. For some reason.”

“A lawyer who knows Equestrian laws, yes. But not ours.”

Twilight felt a sudden surge of tension in the air. Something was wrong.

“What do you mean ‘ours’?”

The General stepped forward. “I am the Toastmaster General. We are an independent military force. Which means that it is within my jurisdiction to have any of my Toastmasters liquidated.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you choose Toaster’s fate. Either you use that royal decree ability of yours to banish her from Equestria for the remainder of her life…or I have her toasted.”

“You can’t be serious!” gasped Twilight. “You would have your own daughter…killed?”

“Of course. In an instant. I have soldiers ready to mobilize.”

“But she’s your daughter!”

“And she has gone astray. I accept responsibility for this failure, and am willing to clean it up.”

“I will not let you kill one of my subjects- -”

“You can’t stop me. Even if you could, that would put you at odds with the Toastmasters…and that would end poorly for everypony.”

Twilight looked into his green eyes, and knew that he was serious. “You truly are a monster.”

“No. She is. I really, really want her dead. I think I would even have her head stuffed and mounted on my wall to remind her sisters to be better ponies. But, of course, as royalty, you get to choose her fate. Death or exile. You pick.”

“You know I can’t exile her,” said Twilight.

“Then the choice is made,” said the General, walking past Twilight to where his two guards seemed to materialize out of the darkness. “Do not worry, there will be very little mess. And not a drop of blood on your hooves.” He started to walk away.

“Wait!” cried Twilight. “Wait…”