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.