My Little Toy

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The door quietly closed behind me, with a faint, yet distinct click and my path back had been sealed. There is no turning back.

“Clip, clop! Clip, clop!” I hear, as my hooves hit the hard, silicon white stone tiles of the room.

The floor does give me a hint of a clinical touch. Thankfully, the walls are a warm leafy green hue, in place of the cold white I am currently stepping on. The mosaic walls are permitting the beams of light dance merrily throughout the entire room.

A pair of doors slide up, on my right side. The room behind the previously unseen threshold looks as if it had been identical. Of course, on second thought; there is no way of making out any doors, or other features in this setting. I feel a cold, yet insistent shiver creep down the entire length of my spine; like a horde of minuscule spiders, trotting from the base of my skull, all the way down to the tip of my tail.

“I am Lotus!” she presents herself.

I notice that the mare before me is a light blue with just a slight hint towards a warm cyan to her coat colour. The mane and tail is a light pink, not too dissimilar to the style of a Fluttershy. This stylish pony is wearing a light eye-shadow, from what I could see, and her lashes had clearly been painted black and are glistering in the light of the room.

The doors close behind her, in the same manner the doors closed behind me; as I entered the room. I am recognizing a pattern here. Perfect privacy, even if it is a bit intimidating to the new pony. Me, in this case.

While I am not actually Rarity, she seems to recognize me as if I had been; not expecting me to present myself in any manner.

She trots up to me, hugs me warmly and kisses me on both cheeks, right and left. I even manage to catch a wink, before she is done with the warm and fairly passionate greeting ritual. Maybe I should have chosen another base, to model myself off of. Oh, well; too late to turn back now, she already greeted me. Besides, I have a chilling impression, of how I can’t step back and leave the room. Not without the treat she had in mind for me.

Maybe I should just resign? I can as well try to enjoy the treat, the treatment I had been booked for.

Just as she steps back, I feel a vibration under my hooves, as a platform is being elevated. She pulls out a cushion and places it onto the platform, winking at me.

“Mount it, it is time for your treat!” she points out, cooing insistently at me.

While the cushion does look like silk, it has a different sense of smoothness to it; almost as if it had been rubber or silicon. For now, I do not permit this to get in the way. If I don’t let anything get to my head, maybe I could actually enjoy myself. I had intended this to be a fun and enjoyable time to relax. Why back down, over a few minor and insignificant details now?

The cushion is soft and squishy. It isn’t inflated or stuffed with any regular cushion stuffing I know of or recognize. Maybe that is for the better, after all. I feel the cool touch under my belly, as the cushion is accepting and hugging me with unexpected and somewhat chilly warmth.

Maybe I could get used to how it feels, in which case I would not even feel the cushion at all. Although, I guess that could be even more chilling.

While I am distracted, she had already extracted a can of hoof polish. I could clearly see the can opened, as she is pulling out the brush with her mouth.

“Now, that is something I guess I could get used to!” I ponder, realizing what is about to happen.

She is picking up my right fore-hoof, in her own and slowly starts to brush my hoof in an experienced and efficient manner.

I notice how she manages to cover the entire hoof, and nothing but the hoof. Once she is done with the first hoof, she moves on to the next fore-hoof. She merely steps around me and continue with my hind-hooves, right and left.

While I wait for her to cap the first can and clean the brush; I try to relax, while the clear base gel is absorbed by my hooves and cures.

Once she is done, she is producing the hoof-polish, or lacquer. At least, it is what I imagine is in the second can she is opening for me. If it had been used before, or not; I do not care, it is irrelevant to the treat I am enjoying. Or, at least trying to enjoy. The treatment itself is actually quite comforting and relaxing. Maybe it is something in the privacy of the setting. I do not need to worry about anyone slipping into the room, seeing me here.

If anyone managed to enter, would they even recognize me?

“I love the warm, deep purple she gave my hooves!” I ponder, looking at her through the corner of my eyes.

“Since you put it that way, I will apply the top coat and seal the deal!” she points out.

I just nod at her, not quite realizing what she just had told me. Thinking this was merely a part of the regular hooficure. The first layer had merely polished up my hooves to a deeper gloss, while preparing for the lacquer. The lacquer added only the colour, giving it a bit more life and lustre. The third layer is sealing the deal, making the change irreversible. Once she started to apply the clear gel, the change is utterly irrevocable, final. There is no turning back, I am forever changed.

I look at her, as she is opening the can, picking up the brush and takes up my right fore-hoof in hers; before she is starting to apply the thick, clear gel. Hoof by hoof, she is applying the gel. I can see the gloss spreading over my hooves, one at the time. No turning back. If only I had known. Could I have stopped her, preventing her from sealing the lacquer in?

As the gel sinks in and is absorbed by my hooves, my hooves turns into solid rubber. Stiff, adamant; and highly elastic, but rubber nonetheless.

As I relax, my legs hang loose, limp along the sides of the cushion upon which I lie, comfortably.

“Close your eyes!” she coos, seductively.

While my eyes are closed, she applies a coat of clear gel on my eyelids and eye-lashes. While I did not know of it, but the gel has the same properties as the gel she used as top coat for my hooves. It is effectively sealing the eye-shadow and the mascara. Maybe I should not complain? I had chosen both eye-shadow and mascara, in the first place; after all. Besides, that is still irrelevant now, after I had my hooves polished.

“I enjoy being the marshmallow!” I ponder, imagining myself strutting around, as I am looking now.

As a matter of fact, I am indeed enjoying myself, quite Royally at that.

Since she is done with the make-up, the associated items had been slipped out of site. Out of site, out of mind; out of the way. How convenient.

I feel a pair of cool, hooves, slippery with massage oil on the back of my neck. Her hooves slowly working my muscles to a comfortable relaxed state, as she is undoing the effect of a stress full week. Life is tough, but a session at the spa could undue the harm, at least for the duration of a week-end. Even if the stress will return, my muscles had been saved from the toll; for now. I enjoy the touch of her hooves; much more so, than I had been expecting.

Of course, I had never been aware of even booking the massage, in the first place. Then again, why ruining the effect, of what I had been given. I had been imparted the treat, and I would be damned for refusing the treatment now.

I find her hooves quite hot, even if they are cold after repeatedly being dipped and coated by the cool oil of her trade. The oil does not spill or drip, but it is slowly spreading out over my back, as she is continuing down my spine. There is the intermittent sense of a stabbing, as she is hitting a particularly hard and resistant knot in my back-muscles. I could not blame her, but comes to enjoy this after a while. I am reminded of where I am and why I am here.

This is her place, and it is her specialty. She had dedicated herself and her life, to giving me and every other pony coming her way. I am not offended by merely being the last in line. Then again; to her, I am a dear friend by the name of Rarity. She had demonstrated it more than enough, to me. The greeting spoke volumes, and I guess I still do enjoy it. She is such an endearing mare, in her very own right.

“Why do I find her so lovable, I have after all ever seen or even heard of her; before I arrived here, and she greeted me like a long-standing, dearly loved friend!” I ponder, unable to prevent a part of me and the Rarity-persona bicker in the back of my head.

Two slippery, oil drenched hooves, sliding all over my back as they explore me. I feel her hooves sliding down and over my luscious rump, continuing down my legs, all the way down to my freshly polished hooves.

She trots around me, from my back, to my face. She starts low, at the fore-hooves and works her way up to my chest and belly. I feel hooves moving up my rump. For a moment, I imagine her hooves slipping, or slipping in; but this never really happens.

Once more, she is trotting around me, before she is giving me the attention she thinks I deserve. Her hooves, slowly, gently prodding my face. The massage soon is at an end.

The oil slips away and vanishes; after she capped the jar in which she found it in the first place. My entire body is coated in slippery and glistering oil, from muzzle to rear hooves.

“You can open your eyes now, please!” she coos from behind me, while she is carefully brushing my tail from the tip and all the way up

“Oh!” I respond, and open my eyes as she is suggesting it.

“That feels good!” I then add, feeling my entire body relaxed and relaxing after the efforts she had just put into the massage.

“I think you will need this!” she then points out, as she is applying a lubricating, clear and glossy gel to my rear orifice.

“Oh!” I exclaim, as I feel the cool gel sliding over the rim of my orifice.

The gel has special relaxing properties I had not been prepared for. While it is making my muscles relax, it is also enhancing the sensitivity; I just do not know of it yet, because she is not engaging me to let on what is afoot.

How could I have forgotten?” she is cooing, in a teasing manner.

With that, she is applying gel to my lips. She is spreading the gel, quite generously; making me feel the gel spread into my mouth and all the way a few inches down my throat.

“What was that for?” I inquire.

“Nothing, just lip gloss!” she is teasing me, holding up a mirror before me.

She is putting the mirror away, once I had seen the reflection; before she is once more holding a brush in her right hoof, only to brush my mane carefully.

“This gel, or lip-gloss does feel a bit strange!” I soon realize.

While the gel does lend my lips that special high gloss finish of a wet look, but something is just off. I could not put a finger or hoof to exactly what is off, or wrong. Most gels and lip-glosses I know of, are supposed to make your lips soft, smooth and feel just a little bit wet; but this does still go just a bit over the top, in the regard. Just not enough to raise a warning, or red flag.

“I am done now, Rarity; you can come down, now!” she coos.

“Thank you, Lotus; this was divine, my dear!” I exclaim, as I slide down from the cushion and land on the floor.

There is a curious squeak, as my hooves hit the floor; yet, I pay it no heed, at the moment. Maybe I should have? Yet, I could not be bothered, lest the moment would be lost. I had after all enjoyed the treat and massage far too much, to chance it and spoil the moment on something this trivial. Besides, I am a Lady, I do not complain about everything. Even if I could whine like a little filly; if and when I was in that mood, and felt it right.

While I had made an effort, in separating myself from the Rarity model; I seem to become more and more just like her, the longer I am exposed to the setting in which I am currently finding myself. Is it in the treatment by Lotus, or in the products she had been using on my behalf, on my person?

The squeaks does not go away, but they are clearly drastically diminished, when I am taking my gentle, ladylike steps. I could always use this effect, as a cue; as to how I can move, as a lady. While it is silly, I am taking this serious as I am enjoying myself. It is still endearing, in my opinion, if I could say so myself.

A door is appearing before me. I am trotting slowly towards my new destination.

“Good buy and welcome back soon, Rarity!” Lotus exclaims.

She makes an effort in repeating the ritual of seeing me off, on my way out of the room.

“See you soon, Lotus!” I respond, returning each of her moves; the kisses and the hug.

I step through my door. The door on my right opens once again, and Lotus is trotting out of the room; to where she came from. The doors are closing behind me.