The Masseur

by NachoTheBrony

Chapter 8: Acute Insomnia

~Cornbread Chip~’s Personal Journal, Day 173 in ~Equestria~
~Winter 41, Year 2 of the Fourth Era~
Earth’s Date: February 3, 2013.

I just realised that I have barely written any new journal entries this past month, and while I know I won’t really be correcting my current tendency, I do need a little bit of release.
In fact, it was ‘release’ the very reason why I started this journal: so I could go back and compare my journal with my memories and have a slight reassurance that I really am walking among and holding conversations with magic-using, Technicolor ponies, rather than drooling while I stare at the walls of a padded cell.
I don’t know what to think anymore, but I do know what I see happening in me, and I know how I feel about it: My self-control, that edifice that I began to overbuild and reinforce a good decade before I even knew the term ‘sociopathy’, is slipping away like it was sand in my hands. I’m absolutely terrified.
The sign I’m getting is that my lusts, my ~carnal urges~, have gone completely astray. Almost every night I’m having these extremely vivid dreams of having sex with ~Luna~. I then wake up at the crack of dawn and feel as tired as if I hadn’t gone to sleep at all. And my underpants are a mess.
Everybody around me has noticed how I’m going down, except for the princesses: I’ve asked everybody to not remark on my condition with them, and I have more than enough acting experience to be able to ‘act’ normal. ~Key Mistress~ (1) was really displeased about keeping my secret and has warned me that if the princesses ask her, she will sing like a bird. I can’t fault her.
The duty of escorting me around has been handed back to the ~Guard~, and they are assigning nothing but beefy ~Earth~ ponies to follow me around. I’m guessing that they are betting that, at some point, I will collapse, and have me followed by someone beefy enough to pick me up.
I have also cancelled my massage services beyond basic shoulder rubs, citing that it is too hard for me to massage them properly through their winter fur. Truth be told, it’s too hard for me to force my muscles to do a proper massage, even on my own furless legs.
And the doctors have no idea of what’s happening to me.
I’m fucked.

~Cornbread Chip~’s Personal Journal, Day 174 in ~Equestria~
~Winter 42, Year 2 of the Fourth Era~
Earth’s Date: February 4, 2013.
If I’m not going to do a status report for this month, then I might as well write this now:
So far, my only ‘invention’ this month has been a pedal-powered washing machine:
Version One I had made from bronze by some blacksmiths, and it was a good proof-of-concept but a lousy tool: on one hand, it did its work as a hollow metal drum half submerged in a bath of near-boiling water. On the other hand, it was heavy and had a dangerous tendency to splash. I sent it back, and nobody misses it.
        Version Two was much more reasonable: having been made from a large ~cider~ barrel, it was significantly bigger while also being significantly lighter. Too bad it has significant trouble handling larger pieces, such as bedsheets. I wanted to take it apart and try again, but I never expected that, after only a week inside the laundry, the ladies would grow fond enough of it that they would all go ballistic from me merely insinuating that I wanted to take it apart. In fact, I’m pretty sure that ~Tea Cossy~ wanted to bite me! To date, the ladies use it to wash table napkins and facial towels, which the castle apparently dirties by the bucketful.
        Version Three was actually meant to handle bed sheets and pony-sized towels and capes. On it, I did away with the barrel and made it into something more akin to a paddlewheel with rounded pegs instead of paddles, beating on one side of a donut-shaped bath. The ladies love it, but I’m ashamed of being its inventor: while I had intended it to be operated by four ladies pushing the pedals, it jams continuously unless there’s a fifth one pushing the cloth around the donut.
        Version Four was commissioned two days ago and is supposed to be delivered tomorrow and be assembled and ready to work two days later, and is a bunch of minor improvements over Version Three: the basin is mounted on a ring of casters so it can rotate under the wheel, so there should be no more jams from undisplaced cloth. Then the wheel itself is smaller, has less peg density and the pegs are now conical rather than cylindrical, so it can move much faster and with fewer complications.  

There was this big Winter Ball like a week ago, dedicated to the Moon and to Princess ~Luna~. (2) I’m glad that shortly after the Spaniards’ goodbye, I decided to try and get myself a proper gala suit. An Aztec nobleman’s suit, passed through Imperial Rome and Feudal Japan: a parrot-green headdress commissioned from this gryphon wig-maker, mounted on a monolithic-looking silver centurion’s helmet and a little facepaint; a scarlet cape supported by jade-on-silver pauldrons; a Japanese-inspired silver scalemail shirt (that I got for free by selling the design on a for-royalties contract to the metalworkers’ guild); a pure-white loincloth that, with tails almost long enough to touch my feet, would have had me arrested under Aztec law by wearing it ‘Emperor’s length’; silver bracers and hoof-like gauntlets hiding my woollen gloves, and silver gaiters and foot covers hiding from sight the socks inside my Geta sandals.
BTW, I just don’t get why ponies make a point of not looking at my socks, or at my hands if I’m wearing gloves. (3) To each culture their own fixations, I guess, but I don’t have the benefit of having hooves to isolate my feet from the snow!
As I already said, my costume was ready long before I received the invitation two weeks ahead of the party, but we had to rush order a formal kimono for Hikaru, who apparently barely has any clothing other than the various yukatas I usually see him wearing. ~Fancy Stitches~ (4) accepted gladly the challenge, under the condition that he could only dedicate us a single day for the fitting.
I didn’t know that Robbie had received a set of formal armour. I have to talk with the castle’s blacksmiths, so we can make him a centurion’s armour rather than the ridiculous gilded riot-gear and bucket helm that he must have designed himself. I must first learn where the heck did he get those BOOTS, though: I’m sick of wearing sandals in winter!
I must mention it too: Robbie was already white and blonde, but the armour’s enchantment makes it literal. I would have paid a ton of money to see his reaction to becoming a snow-white, straw yellow blonde.
Hikaru and I tried, but couldn’t pull Good Listener to the party: with us having an extra ticket apiece, with Good Listener having two fiancées, and with none of us being capable of securing a third ticket, Hikaru and I eventually resold our extra tickets and used that money to buy gifts for ~Inky~ and ~Mouthy~.
And about the party itself: I didn’t see a lot of it, as ~Luna~ kept me by her side the whole night, and she had to stay by the door greeting guests. Thankfully, she took a few pauses and danced a few pieces with me, which kept me from freezing, but couldn’t keep me from catching a cold by the end of the night.