Treat of the Tricked Pony!

I had approached her where she sat, waiting for someone she could serve. It's her job, her place and of course, it's ultimately her joy. I knew of this much.

“Could you paint my hooves black? “ I had asked her.

“Oh, but of course I can!” she told me, as she uncapped the veil of the polish.

“If you like it to last, you'd have the clear base coat first!” she then told me, and I nodded assent.

Now she slowly painted the right fore hoof, then the left, continuing with the left hind hoof, then finishing with the right hid hoof. She had lifted each and every hoof in turn, polishing not just the top, the front, but also under each hoof; in order to do, what she had promised.

The polish had been absorbed by my hooves, then cured within a mere minute, I had barely noticed. That's when she picked up the black polish. I could see it glister, as she polished my hooves in the same order as before, with the base coat.

I did not notice the difference at first, and of course when I did it is way too late, there was no turning back; since it had been fully absorbed and cured, by the time. Besides, she had already picked up the top coat by then and was polishing my hooves, all over again.

Now she had also been polishing my hooves the fourth time; coating them in the clear gel, or hoof glue, as it turned out. Yet, she had not told me, and I had failed to notice it; since the effect would only come as my hooves touched the other component of the glue. Or something magnetic? Then she applied a final coat of elastic gel on the top and front of each hoof, and with that, she had finished my first request.

“Maybe you could give me a make up?” I asked, tempting my fate.

“Certainly. What colours would you like?” she responded.

“Red lips would be great!”” I stated, as she had already started by picking the foundation.

She was slowly and very carefully covering my face with the clear gel, passing for foundation. It's a base on which to place the colours, I knew. At least, that had been my impression of her intent and my understanding of make-up.

She had picked up a clear lip gloss for base coat, slowly covering my lips with it. The gel it was based upon soon was absorbed, by eager lips. She knew of it. She continued, by applying the red I had chosen; metallic bloody red, just as I had hoped for.

Just like before, the lip stick had been absorbed easily, and then cured onto my lips. I would not be able to remove it, no matter what, just as she had intended. She was nothing but thorough. Leaving nothing to chance. Like before, she soon used the clear top coat: sealing the lip stick securely and undeniably in place.

“Anything else?” she then urged me.

“Silver eye shadows would be great?” I indicated; and she picked up the base for my eyes, applying it to my eyelids, right and left, up and down. Slowly, carefully, never missing anything; leaving the perfect result, on which to build upon. Then she continued with the silver shadow. Repeating the process, just as the base coat had been absorbed, and cured. From there, she continued, with a skin tone, just above, and below the respective upper and lower lids. Almost given the effect, the silver had been my actual colour, while the skin tone was the make up?

Looking closer, I could almost see a reflection in the silver shadow. I imagined I could, or did I actually see the reflections?

“You'd love your eyelashes black, I take it, and just slightly longer looking?” she then suggested, and I nodded.

How could she have known? She continued on schedule, with the base coat, then painted over the base with a strangely glistering black. From here, she picked up a new top coat; dipping the brush thrice, before placing it onto my now black lashes; twirling the lashes around the brush, slowly and carefully pulling at my lashes as she released them, just a little bit slower than she pulled forwards. Thus my lashes stretched out considerable; staying as long as she made them, or about an inch, but also curling up on themselves, progressively. Each lash taken individually, right and left, upper and lower. Each looking identical to the other, and exactly as I had desired them to.

“Spread your hooves as wide as you can, while still maintaining full contact with the surface of the desk!” she instructed me; without any suspicion, I did as I had been told.

I had failed to notice what she did, and my hooves soon fused securely to her desk, where I stand. Then she picked up a new gel, covering my body; which soon turned a silicon white. Then she continued with the next, repeating the process; from muzzle, to hind hooves.

Then she was finished. Only she did not say a word, and soon vanished out of site.