//------------------------------// // 57. The Parlor #3 (Rarity) // Story: Short Shorts // by Coranth //------------------------------// "Is..." she swallowed, nervously, then started again. "Is it ready?" Her attendant for the night - a large, bald-headed, muscle-bound man named Nicholas - nodded, his weathered face crinkled into a smile as he replied, "Yes, the room's all yours; prepared exactly as you stated, ma'am." The white mare nodded, returning her attendant's smile. "Thank you, sir" she stated. Then, together, she and he entered the private room. It was set up similar to one of the rooms in the Ponyville Spa--there was a massage table, and away from that, a mud-filled pool one might use for taking a mudbath--but there the resemblance ended. This room, unlike that of the Ponyville Spa, was dirty and oh-so-dusty, as if it hadn't been cleaned in years. The massage table - an ugly slab of concrete topped with a thin, filthy "mattress" of bamboo - looked hard and uncomfortable, whilst the mudbath looked even worse, for the warm mud within it which seethed and roiled was not the kind from the spa. Though any sticks, stones, and other small things that might hurt her had been removed from it, it was real mud, proper mud, straight from the heart of Froggy-Bottom Bog. The mud was utterly unclean, it was filthy, it was disgusting, it was... it was... was... Perfect. A delighted whimper escaping her, the white mare moved to said bath and descended into it immediately, groaning softly in dark pleasure as the filthy mud made its way further, and further up her body the further she descended into the bath. Once she was fully immersed - the mud all the way up to her neck - she could contain herself no longer. With a gleeful scream, the mare utterly cut loose. She "swam" in the mud as best she could; she sloshed, squelched, and rolled in it--utterly ruining her normally pristine white fur, mane and tail. She didn't mind. She didn't care. In fact, Rarity Belle of Ponyville utterly adored this. Here, she thought, she would not be judged or criticized. Here in the parlor, the only one who could see her cutting loose like this, was her human attendant--and he, she knew, would never tell a soul. Thus, within the mud bath she played until the mud covered and clung to every part of her body - until her mane and tail were utterly clumped and tangled with it, until her fur was clad so much in it she could feel its warmth upon the skin beneath, until her hooves were so gunked with it she might never get it out! It was thrilling! "... the type of pony everypony should know..." she sung, a dark laugh escaping her. Then, she inhaled a breath, closed her eyes, and plunged beneath the filthy muck, wanting to feel it upon her lips and tongue and between her teeth; wanting to immerse herself so completely that there would be nothing left of the prim and proper fashionista known to her friends as Rarity. She bathed and rolled and played within that bath of muck for hours. When at last she emerged and ascended the steps of the pool - her body so covered with muck that she appeared blackish-brown rather than white, her attendant, Nicholas, greeted her with a sneer. "Look at you," he trumpeted, pointing a finger at her, "you're filthy! What will your parents think of this?!" "Fuck them!" snarled Rarity in reply, glaring at him in anger. Not all was as it seemed, however. In reality, Rarity labored mightily to contain an almost perverse thrill of pleasure. In reality, Nicholas desperately tried not to howl with laughter. A sneer infusing her expression and gait, Rarity stormed over to the massage table and threw herself upon its surface; hard, uncomfortable... and exactly what she needed. Soon, she felt human hands descend upon her form as Nicholas began to massage the muck covering her body even deeper into her fur. By Celestia... it felt so good and the thought of his hands upon her - warm, gentle, calloused, sweaty, rife with filth and germs - filled her with a dark kind of pleasure that was almost but not quite sexual in nature. "Look at you, you filthy whorse," growled the human as he continued his work. "What would your sister think if she could see you now, hmm?" "Sweetie Belle?" Rarity snarled. "Bah... I can barely stand her! Always getting in the way, always making a mess when she tries to 'help'... and I don't even want to think about those two monsters she calls 'friends'! Sweetie Belle's bad enough, but when she gets together with them those three 'fillies of the apocalypse' make Nightmare Moon a veritable angel! Why just the other day..." And so it was that Rarity let loose her normally held tongue; she cursed her sister up one side and down the other, and lambasted her friends for their failings and sheer stupidity, tension long-held that she didn't even know she had draining away with every word she spoke. "... and why didn't that Celestia-damned uncouth hick ask for help with Applebuck Season? Is that so fucking hard to do? And don't get me thinking about Twilight! I don't know what it was that Celestia did to her, but that neurotic bookworm bitch basically cast a mind-control spell upon our entire town just because she feared being late for what amounts to something less than a school report for that namby-pamby alicorn whorse..." When at last she wound down, Nicholas ceased massaging her for a moment to put on some music that she'd requested be played for her during her time here--and what music it was! It was filled with pounding drums that sounded like jackhammers, guitars that sounded more like chainsaws, than proper instruments and vocals straight from the pits of Tartarus itself. The song was, "Hard Lines, Sunken Cheeks," by the band, Pantera. One of her human friends had somehow talked her into listening to one of their songs - just one - after a particularly frustrating day working at the Boutique. Upon hearing the... thing (she'd refused, at first, to think of it as music) - a song titled "Drag the Waters," from one of their later albums, "The Great Southern Trendkill" - Rarity had, at first, been utterly appalled. This... travesty was barely fit to be called 'music'; it was hideous, it was foul, it was... was... intriguing, and... utterly unlike anything she'd ever heard in her life. Ponies... just didn't make this kind of music. Rarity had ended up listening to the entire album, much to her friend's surprise; then a follow-up conversation with her friend had revealed much about the band's history and members. Eventually, clandestine trips to the Ponyville Record Shop had netted her the band's complete discography, along with a few pieces of merchandise - shirts and hoodies and the like - all of which were safely stored away in her room where dear Sweetie Belle was forbidden to enter. But it hadn't stopped there. She'd attended their concerts live - in disguise of course, what a thrill! - had met Phil Anselmo, and when Darrell Lance Abbott - Diamond Darrell - had been killed she'd mourned in secret along with the rest of Pantera's legions of fans. Since then, she'd 'branched out' so to speak, listening to many, many other metal bands - becoming quite the metal-head - and none of her friends knew or even suspected a thing. By the time her 'massage' was done, Rarity was fast asleep. Smiling fondly down at his client, Nicholas picked her up gently in his strong hands then carried her out of the customized spa room, down a short corridor and into a proper clean bathroom wherein he proceeded to bathe her and thoroughly wash the muck and grime from her fur, mane and tail until she was once again pristine. Thereafter, the human dried her vigorously with a thick, fluffy towel, making her fur and mane as ruffled as possible. Then, picking Rarity up again in his arms - smiling as she curled into him, nuzzled him, rubbed her face in his scent and sweat - Nicholas carried the now-clean pony out into the main room where he placed her upon an empty futon-bed before the fireplace there; then he went to retrieve the specially prepared food his client had asked for... Rarity awakened to the feel of her human attendant Nicholas gently combing his hands through her unstyled, let down mane. Cracking open her eyes, she looked about - seeing that she was with him abed in the main room of the parlor - and then, she looked at herself, a whimper of sheer dismay escaping her. She was clean again - her release to be a filthy, shabby, common pony was coming to an end - and soon she would have to once again become the polite and 'proper' mare she was expected to be. Oh, how she wanted to be dirty again! Her muzzle turned down, she gazed up at Nicholas with glistening eyes as he massaged her body, stroked her mane, and dug his fingers into her... her... - "Mmmh!" - her skull and scratched behind her ears. "Hey, don't be sad, sweetheart; the night's not over yet. Look," he said, and gestured before her. Swallowing back a sob, she looked... and let out a delighted cry, for there in front of her was a tray filled with... with... well, if the food was utterly bad and unhealthy to eat then it was there on that tray! As Rarity ate - greedily scarfing down extra greasy hay fries, taboo slices of meat lover's pizza, crunchy bacon, a portion of beef hamburger, and a very unhealthy salad drenched in dressing - she rolled onto her side, letting Nicholas rub her furry belly as she imagined herself growing plump and round; fat though never to the point of being morbidly obese. '... more of me for his - ohgodshishands - to touch!' she thought as her leg began to kick. Upon finishing her extremely unhealthy meal, the fashionista pony gorged and glutted herself upon all manner of chewy sweets, donuts and ice cream drenched in chocolate syrup, some of which her human attendant fed to her by hand even as he rubbed her belly with the other. In no time at all, Rarity was finished and - as Nicholas left briefly to take the empty tray away - she let out a loud, uncouth, unladylike belch. When her human returned he was showered, and he'd dressed in comfortable sleepwear. Gently he settled into the futon bed, bringing her in with him and covering the both of them with the soft, pegasus-down filled duvet. A contented sigh escaped Rarity as she turned to snuggle into Nicholas, taking in his clean, natural scent as he buried his hands in her coat and mane and started caressing her. "Mmmm..." she murmured softly. And ever so slowly - ever so gently - her eyes closed...