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.