//------------------------------// // Miserable Masseuse // Story: A Perversion of Parole // by Some Leech //------------------------------// “Oh my gosh! Did you hear about Prince Blueblood?” the svelte, supine mare asked, grinning cheekily to herself. Turning to her left, lifting a cucumber from one eye, she peered over at her companion. “I heard he was caught flirting with one of the Yak ambassadors!” The similarly pampered mare, reclining next to her friend, bolted up and waved her free hoof. “Shut up! Blueblood?!” “Ya-ha!” the first confirmed. Nodding enthusiastically, she launched into a scandalous tale about the affluent stallion’s supposedly dubious penchant for large, hairy, muscular bovines, while utterly ignoring the glowering attendant who loomed over them. Silently holding one of the obnoxious pony’s hooves, carefully administering a pedicure, Queen Chrysalis glanced over at the clock. Her brow furrowed, realizing she was only fifteen minutes into the duo’s hour-long session. For a great many of her coworkers, listening to all the juicy gossip was even better than the pay itself, but rumors and hearsay did nothing but evoke her ire. She’d initially thought that taking a job at the La Di Da Spa would be a cake walk - sadly, she’d been dead wrong. When she wasn’t catering to patrons, fetching them towels or tending to their hooves, she was stuck dolling out massages to the indulgent, spoiled egoists who assumed that their money or looks were inherently linked to their value - that wasn’t to say that beauty and money didn’t have an impact on one’s worth, but the ponies who visited the beauty salon were anything but beautiful. Compared to herself, each of the infuriating equines was a philistine, which made her position all the more demeaning. Mares would come and go, giggling about how gorgeous one another were or proudly boasting about the costly gifts they were lavished with - all the while wholly ignorant to the superior creature serving them. The entire situation sickened her to the core, leaving her nauseous on a great many evenings. Her freedom had been some sick, twisted design by that infernal Starlight Glimmer, she just knew it - why else would she have been consigned to such lowly, unfitting work. She was a Queen, a higher rank than any of the pony nobility, yet she’d been reduced to that of some unsavory, sycophantic peasant. Dwelling on her unfortunate turn of luck, losing check of her temper, she bore down just a bit too hard with her emery board. “Watch it!” the mare barked, snatching her hoof away. “Are you even trained properly? I swear, this place will hire anypony!” Literally biting her tongue, lest she unleash a scathing diatribe, Chrysalis inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, and slowly exhaled. “My apologies.” “One more slip up like that and I will speak to your manager,” the petulant pony huffed, only reluctantly offering her limb to the changeling. Though the deposed matriarch didn’t show it, the downright contempt she felt for the spa’s clientele was unfathomable. Nearly all of the business’ patrons were conceited and insufferable, with even the most humble being barely tolerable. Unlike herself, who actually deserved to be worshiped, the ponies she was constantly surrounded by were delusional beyond belief and were practically begging to be subjugated. Yes, she had plans for the loathsome equines, big plans, though she had no way of knowing if or when she’d be able to enact them. Shackled as she was, with eyes almost constantly upon her, she could do little more than grin and bear it. If she spoke out of line, she was chastised - all the ponies in town knew one another, so attempting to transform and flee would be virtually impossible - and she needed her job, unless she wanted to find herself in an even more horrible situation. As shameful as it was to admit, her tiny apartment was far, far better than eking out a living in the woods or living in a shelter. Her sole comfort, aside from the central heat and air of her abode, was the fact that she had access to all manner of sweets and pastries. As much as she despised the simpering ponies, there was no denying their astounding baking skills. Before work, each and every morning, she’d treat herself to a freshly baked scone or muffin from Sugarcube Corner. Once she was finished with her shift, depending on how terrible it was, she’d reward herself for not throttling anypony with a cupcake or brownie. She hated herself for hemorrhaging a considerable amount of her paycheck at the bakery, but their confections were therapeutic and afforded her a bit of therapeutic relief. Though their adopted daughter was particularly unbearable, the Cakes had proven themselves to be moderately tolerable, if only just. Mrs. Cake had even gone so far as to begin expecting her visits, greeting her fondly and even giving her the occasional gift on the house. The somewhat portly mare was one of the few she would spare, after she inevitably reared a new hive and razed Ponyville to the bedrock. “Hey,” one of the snooty mares arrogantly called, drawing her attention. “I need a new hot towel.” “Just a moment, Miss,” Chrysalis smoothly intoned, setting the emery board down. Trotting towards the nearest supply closet, uttering a string of very colorful expletives to herself, she went to fulfill the trivial task. When the time came that she flipped the tables, crushing Equestria under her hoof, she’d set things right. She would be the one getting pampered, ponies would worship and praise the ground she walked on, and only then would the deluded and foolish ponies know their place - save for Cozy. Thinking of the little filly, a cold chill ran up her spine. Of the malicious trio, the pint-sized pegasus had suffered the worst fate. Tirek’s job wasn’t great, leaving him weary and reeking of frying oil; hers wasn’t much better, giving her frequent migraines and keeping her in a persistently sour mood, but those paled in comparison to what they’d done for the curly maned megalomaniac. In a rare moment of weakness, she silently prayed her fellow fiend was withstanding her torturous circumstances...