//------------------------------//
// Trixie 
// Story: Affection Therapy 
// by Blazewing 
//------------------------------//

Today certainly started off in a very interesting way, but you don’t regret it in the slightest. After your talk and session with Princess Luna, you feel much more at ease with yourself. You still haven’t forgotten what you went through yesterday or that previous night, but you no longer feel weighed down by old memories. You’re ready to carry on as you did before, with a new resolve. You have another full afternoon of clients, all of them seeking affection therapy, and you need to keep your mind in the present to help them, without wallowing in the past.

You arrive at the spa before your shift starts, with plenty of time to get the office in ready condition. You’d already tidied up the office the day before, but it never hurts to give it a once-over. You also lay down a new plate of freshly-baked cookies for your clients. At least you know these won’t go to waste. Many ponies possess a good sweet tooth. They’d have to, or else Sugarcube Corner’s business wouldn’t be what it is today.

You take a look at your roster for the day, which Aloe handed to you when you came in. There are a couple names you recognize, ones you think you know, and one that you’d never heard of before. You briefly wonder if this could be another ‘Cadenza’ situation, as you don’t recall meeting a pony in Ponyville with a name like this. 

You can worry about that later. For now, it’s time to get to work.

Like clockwork, just as the clock strikes noon, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” you call.

The door opens, but instead of a pony appearing, something tiny is thrown into the room. It looks like a silvery marble, but you only see it for an instant before it hits the floor, and with a tinkle of glass and a hiss of steam, a cloud of purple smoke fills the room. Alarmed, you cover your mouth and nose and wave your hand about, trying to waft it away, wondering what in the world is happening. 

Then, a familiar voice speaks through the smoke, loudly and dramatically.

“Greetings, affection therapist! Consider yourself blessed, as you have the honor, privilege, and good fortune to have as your first client for the day…”

There’s a loud flapping noise, as though someone is sweeping a large cloth through the air, and the smoke is wafted aside...gradually. 

You can now see a figure swathed in a cape, a broad-brimmed and pointy hat atop their head, waving the cape frantically to flap away the smoke. Coughing, they finally manage to dissipate it, and you can now see that it’s Trixie, in full performance garb. Of course, her name was on the roster, so you already knew it would be her. In retrospect, you probably should’ve expected such a flashy entrance.

Wiping at her watering eyes, she suddenly spies you looking at her, draws her cape around herself, clears her throat, and says, theatrically,

“As I was saying, you have the honor, privilege, and good fortune to have as your first client of the day...the Grrreat and Powerful Trrrixie!”

She sweeps her cape aside, smiling grandly, as if she hadn’t just had a face full of smoke. You sit there, staring in bemusement at her, before you give your head a shake to bring your mind back to the present.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to make an entrance,” you say. “Good afternoon, Trixie. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

With a glow of her horn, Trixie sets aside her cape and hat, then walks over and hops up onto the couch, giving her silvery-blue mane a prim toss as she settles in. Her purple eyes spy the plate on the table and light up with interest.

“Ooh, cookies! Are these for your clients?”

“Why, yes,” you say, smiling. “Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She levitates a cookie from the plate and chows down on it hungrily.

“Mmm-mmm!” she hums in satisfaction. “A delicious treat worthy of a great and powerful pony.”

“I’m glad you think so,” you say, “even if I’m just using a friend’s recipe. Does a great and powerful pony have a very selective palate?”

“But of course,” says Trixie, haughtily. “I’m a performer, destined to wow and amaze audiences of all sorts, from the common row ponies to the most pre-eminent figures of Equestrian society. As such, I’m used to the finest and tastiest of delectables to fuel my magical prowess and stimulate my mighty imagination. Not any old treat will do.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad my baking has satisfied your great and powerful tastes, Trixie,” you say, fighting an urge to chuckle at her bluster.

“Indeed it has,” says Trixie. “Of course, not to disparage your cooking, but my first culinary love shall always be peanut butter crackers.”

Peanut butter crackers? After all of that talk about having a refined palate, that’s what she considers her #1 snack? Not that there’s anything at all wrong with peanut butter crackers, of course. It’s just that you were expecting something a little…fancier.

You don’t say this aloud, naturally.

“Oh?” you say. “Those are pretty tasty.”

“You think so too?” Trixie asks, sounding pleased. “You have good taste, my human friend. I just can’t get enough of them. Once I’m finished putting on my show, I like to relax in my wagon with a nice big plate of peanut butter crackers. I have to watch myself when I do, though. A magician has to keep her great and powerful figure, after all.”

She picks up another cookie as she says this. Not exactly showing much concern for her figure, but again, you say nothing about that. She seems in fine shape anyway.

“Of course,” you say. “So, how have you been lately?”

“Very well, thanks,” says Trixie. “Busily well, actually. I’m putting together my next magic show here in Ponyville, scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s interesting!” you say. “I’ll be sure to be there.”

“Excellent,” says Trixie. “It’s sure to amaze and astonish even my most frequent viewers.”

She settles herself more comfortably on the couch, which in this case means, without preamble, stretching herself at full length along it, so that her head is resting across your lap, while she takes periodic cookie bites. You’re a bit startled by this, not because she’s heavy, but from how suddenly and nonchalantly it was done. Usually ponies only do this when they’re ready for a belly rub. Still, this is her session. If this is how she wants to be at her comfort, let her.

“It will be a change-up to the usual formula of my magic shows,” she says, “for you see, I used to perform solo, no assistants or aid whatsoever.”

“You have an assistant this time?” you ask.

“The best assistant a magician could ask for,” says Trixie, with a gleam in her eye. “Starlight Glimmer.”

“Starlight?” you repeat, a little surprised. “I mean, I knew you two were friends, but I didn’t know she helped you with your shows now.”

“She does, and what a help she’s been,” says Trixie. “Without her, I never could have pulled off Hoofdini’s Moonshot Manticore Mouth Dive, and it was a very near thing, let me tell you.” 

Moonshot Manticore Mouth Dive? Did she mean actually diving into the mouth of a live manticore? You can’t help but shudder at the thought. Trixie seems to notice.

“Fear not, my good human,” she says, reassuringly. “As successful as the trick was, I shan’t perform it again. It’s a legendary trick etched into Equestrian history, and it’s best not to wear out its welcome with too many performances of it. Besides, it doesn’t exactly do wonders for my stress levels, or the audience’s.”

“I can imagine,” you say, grimly. “So, Starlight’s helping you with other tricks?”

“That’s right, but no less exciting or enthralling,” says Trixie. “I only wish I could help her look the part of a great and powerful assistant, but she’s balked at every costume I’ve shown to her.” 

Here, she puts on a whiny voice, which is apparently supposed to be Starlight’s.

“‘I don’t look good in a leotard, Trixie’, ‘tights make me chafe, Trixie’, ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that headdress, Trixie’. She wouldn’t even try them on!” she says, switching back to her normal tone. “How is she supposed to know how she’d look if she won’t even give them a chance?”

You have a brief mental image of Starlight on stage, wearing a shiny leotard and a feathered headdress, and looking utterly miserable. Honestly, you never pictured Starlight as a very dressy or flashy pony.

“I’m very fond of her as a friend,” Trixie continues, “but she can be very picky sometimes. I even offered to make her her own version of my magical ensemble, but she said she doesn’t want to copy me. I wouldn’t mind. It would be flattering to have her in a costume like mine. We are magical partners, after all.”

She sighs, wiping cookie crumbs from her muzzle.

“Oh well. If she wants to join me on stage as she is, I won’t stop her. Perhaps it’s better that way. Everypony ought to know Starlight Glimmer as she truly is: one of the most magically-talented ponies in Equestria, and the most willing to atone for her mistakes. It’s the same way with me: what ponies see is what ponies get.”

There again is what makes Trixie more than the boasting egotist she presents herself as: her consideration of Starlight as a friend, compounded by trusting her as a magician’s assistant. It shows that Trixie is more than loud talk and exaggeration. She truly does care about ponies other than herself.

“An admirable sentiment,” you say, genuinely, “and open-minded, giving Starlight a little free reign.”

“Thank you,” says Trixie, proudly. “I may be the Great and Powerful Trixie, but I’m also the Considerate and Magnanimous Trixie as well. All should bask in my bountiful humility.”

And there she goes again. Still, it’s actually kind of cute how vain she can be.

“Naturally,” you say. “So, did you sign up for a session out of curiosity, or did you need to unwind from your show preparation?”

“A little of both,” says Trixie. “I was intrigued when I first heard about it, and was already planning to try it for myself, but now I feel I need it more than ever.”

Here she drapes her foreleg across her forehead in a dramatic fashion, sighing wearily. It’s the sort of behavior you’d normally see in a pony like Rarity. Then again, Trixie’s a performer. Theatrics are her bread and butter. Or would that be peanut butter?

“It’s exhausting work getting ready for a big show. Magic isn’t all pulling rabbits from hats, guessing the card you drew, and poofing from one end of the stage to another. There’s a lot of effort put into making sure those tricks go off without a hitch. I can’t say how, of course. You already know why.”

“Right. Magicians can’t reveal their secrets.”

“That’s right. Otherwise, you end up looking like a fool on stage in front of dozens, if not hundreds, of ponies. I’ve had that happen before, believe it or not, and it’s experiences like those that have taught me to be diligent in rehearsing my tricks. Starlight’s been a big help with that. Magician’s assistants are the only ones who can be privy to how a magician’s tricks work. They’d have to be, or else, what would be the point of them being an assistant?”

She seems to be going off on a tangent. Perhaps it’s best to steer her back to her original discourse.

“So you’ve been very busy making sure you can perform your tricks perfectly,” you say.

“Yes, I have,” says Trixie. “On top of that, I have to make sure the performance has new material, and coming up with it can be exhausting as well. You can’t just go on stage and pull out the same tricks you’ve done a dozen times before. No matter how flashy and extravagant a routine is, if you show it too often to the same ponies, they’ll eventually grow tired of it. You have to give the audience something new, something they haven’t seen before, something they wouldn’t expect when they’re already expecting the unexpected. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, sure,” you say. “I can only imagine how difficult it must be, coming up with new material.”

“I spend whole nights wracking my brains for new ideas,” Trixie says wearily. 

“I’m sorry to hear,” you say, sympathetically. “But it all pays off in the end, doesn’t it? You get to amaze ponies with your great and powerful magic.”

To your surprise, Trixie gives a hollow laugh.

“Yes and no,” she says. “I mean, I do more so these days, but some time ago, and even with some ponies today...not so much.”

Both her expression and voice become bitter as she says this. You feel like you’re treading into precarious territory here.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you begin, slowly, but Trixie interrupts.

“I’d rather not go into that much detail,” she says, shortly. “Not because I don’t trust you,” she adds, hastily, “but because...I’m not very fond of reliving the mistakes of my past.”

She turns her head to look away from you, with a sad, wistful look in her eyes that goes right to your heart.

“Let’s just say that I bit off more than I can chew, making boasts that I couldn’t back up, making enemies by letting taunts and heckling get to me...letting jealousy of another pony get the better of me, and allowing it to lead me to two of the worst choices I could make…”

You can see a tear sparkling at the corner of her eye, one that she quickly wipes away.

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not proud of displaying myself like this, ‘off-stage’, in front of others. Ponies see me a certain way, the way I am when I perform, and I don’t like to tarnish their impression of me, not when I’ve been working hard to mend it. I’ve already made an infamous image of myself, and I’m still grappling with it. It’s one of the things Starlight and I have in common: we both have done terrible things, and are having trouble making up for it, and having others believe we’re being genuine.”

Now that’s some interesting food for thought. Starlight established a village of rigid equality, then tried to alter history when Twilight and her friends undid that. It can’t be easy coming back from all of that. What could Trixie have done to equal Starlight in what she did? She doesn’t seem willing to tell, so you don’t think you should pry.

You’d also be lying if you told yourself you weren’t struck by what she said about ponies seeing her a certain way, and not wanting to ruin that image. Now where have you heard that before?...

You compassionately place a hand on Trixie’s shoulder.

“No need to apologize, Trixie. I know what it’s like to live a certain way, with others expecting you to live up to that, and I know other ponies who feel the same.”

Trixie turns her head slightly to look at you.

“Even if I don’t know what you did,” you continue, “the important thing is that you know you want to change, and that you’re willing and are trying to change. Ponies might not recognize it at first, but give them enough time, and they’ll see you’re trying to be a better pony than who you were. The same holds true for Starlight. With how close you two are, and with the two of you looking out for each other, I’m confident you’ll give Ponyville, maybe even the rest of Equestria, the best reason to remember your names.”

Trixie stares at you for the longest time. You wonder if perhaps you were a bit too flowery in what you said, given that you had no idea what her past was. You do have a habit of doing that whenever you’re making a speech.

Finally, Trixie smiles.

“Thank you,” she says. “I really appreciate that. It means a lot to know there are ponies who believe in what I’m trying to do, even when they’re not ponies themselves.”

She cheekily boops you on the nose to punctuate this. You’re not slow in returning the boop, and she giggles, her muzzle scrunching up.

“You’re welcome, Trixie,” you say. “So, are you ready to begin?”

“Absolutely,” says Trixie. “I think I’ve talked your ear off enough for one day.”

You chuckle.

“It’s your session, so you could’ve gone on as long as you wanted, and I wouldn’t want to stop you. So, how would you like to begin, Trixie?”

Trixie ponders for a moment, then says,

“Well, the first thing Starlight told me about was the ear scratches, so I think I’d like to start with that.”

“You’ve got it.”

You start rubbing at the base of her ear, which flicks at first from your touch. As you rub, you watch for the telltale smile of relaxation that everypony gains when you start rubbing, and you’re not disappointed. Trixie snuggles deeper into you, her forelegs curling up to her chest, her eyelids drooping sleepily.

“Mmmm,” she hums. “Now that’s a magical sensation...”

Funnily enough, she’s not the first pony who thought affection therapy was like a work of magic, nor is there doubt that she’ll be the last. 

You continue on, first scratching one ear, then the other, then both at the same time with both hands. Trixie shifts and stirs with each new sensation, before becoming settled again and taking it all in with a contented smile and a sigh. With both hands scratching at an ear, her face is cupped between them, and she nuzzles against your palms in a very cat-like way. It results in giving her a squishy, chubby-cheeked face that’s adorable to witness. You compound this by rubbing her chin with your thumbs, making her tilt her head back until her horn is touching the armrest. You honestly half-expect her to start purring any minute now.

Her eyes open drowsily while she’s in this state, her cheeks pillowed against your palms. She reaches up and softly grips your wrists in her forehooves.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask.

“Oh, yes,” says Trixie, her voice slightly muffled. “I’m feeling more and more like my great and powerful self again. While I hate to break off the scritching, I think I’m ready for a nice belly rub now.”

“Certainly,” you say. “It’s your session, after all.”

You remove your hands from her face, and are about to lay them on her stomach, when she holds up a hoof.

“One second,” she says. “Let me just get myself comfy again.”

With a grunt, she sits up, then shifts over so that she’s sitting with her hindquarters in your lap. She rests her back against your front, her head under your chin, then lays her forehooves on your arms, holding them gently. You look down at her, and she smiles contentedly up at you.

“That’s better,” she says. “You may proceed now.”

Smirking at her, you place a hand to her soft stomach and begin rubbing in circles. Trixie sinks deeper against you, turning her head so that her cheek rests against your chest, giving off a relaxed sigh as she does so. It’s like holding a large dog that just wants to snuggle against you while in your lap. It’s moments like this that make you forget that these are ponies, and not just overgrown, affection-loving cats and dogs.

Your foster family had a dog.

You can remember him well: a big Labrador. Eddie was his name. He was someone you could talk to when you felt alone. Sure, he obviously couldn’t talk back, but he could at least listen. He’d grown fond of you, probably because you showed him so much attention.

You wonder how he’s doing these days.

You give your head a shake, willing yourself back to the present. You have to focus.

All of a sudden, you become aware of Trixie saying something. You hope she hadn’t been trying to get your attention while you were briefly distracted.

Looking down, your hand still at her belly, you can see that her eyes are closed. It looks like she drifted off. However, she seems to be mumbling in her sleep, while feebly raising her hooves up.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” she murmurs, “prepare to be amazed by the Great and Powerful Trixie…Watch in awe as Trixie shows you magic like you’ve never seen…”

It sounds like she’s dreaming about putting on a show, and is already in front of her audience.

This is certainly new. You’re used to ponies drifting off for a nap while being scritched or belly-rubbed, but until now, you’ve never had a pony who talked in their sleep. Perhaps performing is so deeply ingrained in Trixie’s subconscious that she rehearses even while dreaming. You’re torn between admiration at her commitment and worry over how much she’s putting herself through to rehearse somnambulistically. 

At the very least, it’s a good thing she’s only dreaming about talking to her audience, and not actually performing tricks in her sleep.

You sit with her and continue petting her belly as she dozes on, occasionally murmuring another grand dramatic address while feebly gesturing with her hooves. The effect is a bit dampened by her saying these things so drowsily, truth be told, but you’re sure it’d sound perfectly impressive if she were fully awake.

After a time, you hear her say, sleepily, but distinctly,

“Thank you all. You’ve been a wonderful audience.”

She dips her head forward, clearly giving a bow, but so suddenly that, had you not acted quickly in holding onto her, she would’ve tumbled to the floor. You pull her back up into her original position, and with a grunt, she stirs, blinking her eyes up at you.

“Oh, hello,” she says, yawning. “I must’ve dozed off. I never realized how powerful a simple tummy rub was.”

She doesn’t seem to realize what she’d been saying. Maybe she’s unaware of her sleep-talking.

“You’re not the first to realize that,” you say, grinning. “It tends to be a favorite among ponies wanting affection therapy. How do you feel, Trixie?”

Trixie raises her forelegs up and stretches. You hear the crick of her joints.

“The most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time,” she says. “I feel like I could put on a dozen shows in a single stretch, encores and all.”

“Er, maybe you should still pace yourself,” you say, cautiously. “You don’t want to burn yourself out.”

“I know,” says Trixie. “I was only being metaphorical. No reason to wear myself out when I only just got a nice energy boost. All the same,” she adds, with a smile, “I really appreciate you doing this for me, and for other ponies. Now I see why Starlight spoke so highly of you.”

You feel your cheeks go warm at this. No matter how many times ponies compliment you on your practice, it still makes you feel bashful.

“I’m happy to help, Trixie,” you say. “It might not be magic in the usual sense, but I’m glad it has such a positive effect for ponies.”

“Well said,” says Trixie. “And now, before I depart, I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

Trixie flares up her horn, and her hat comes floating over. From inside it, she inexplicably pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to you. Upon closer inspection, you find that it’s not actually a paper, but a glossy black and white photograph of Trixie, in full garb, winking at the camera. It’s autographed, too, with Trixie’s fancy signature, the ‘I’ dotted with a star.

“Your autograph?” you ask, looking from it to her.

“A priceless treasure for anypony to possess,” says Trixie, proudly. “Consider it a gift for the service you’ve done for me.”

“Well, thank you,” you say, genuinely. “This is very generous of you.”

“I know it is,” says Trixie, smugly, before adding, in a kinder tone, “but you’re welcome, and thank you again.”

With that, she hops off the couch and summons her hat and cape to her, putting them on with a grand flourish.

“Until we meet again, o Kind and Compassionate Affection Therapist,” she says. “See you on Saturday?”

She’s even given you your own ‘Trixie-fied’ title now. Grinning, you give her a bow with your hand to your chest, and say,

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, o Great and Powerful Trixie.”

Beaming, Trixie magically doffs her hat, then, with a flap of her cape, takes her leave.

Well, you can honestly say that might have been your most interesting session yet. At any rate, it was the most conversational you can remember, at least when it didn’t involve you explaining your sudden fits of painful remembrance. Still, Trixie’s a performer, so loquacity is only natural for a pony like her, and you’re glad you got to help her relax in the midst of her preparations. At least she didn’t drop another smoke bomb to make her exit.