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…”