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…”