Trixieville Part 1

>Day 42 in Trixie Ponyville. Now known as ‘Trixieville’
>Twilight’s attempts at dethroning Trixie have failed and failed again. At least once a week she comes back to try and take Ponyville away from Trixie. Each failure worse than the last.
>Hope for a regular Ponyville was lost once Princess Celestia herself was defeated by Trixie. That Alicorn Amulet is a lot more frightening than anyone could have ever imagined.
>After a few uprisings that were all quickly stamped out, things leveled out. While Trixie’s magic may be destructive, it is also great.
>Trixie would easily generate enough food to make Ponyville happy. She is not one to skimp out. The catch? Serve her. If you refuse, you get no food or water until you do.
>Rarity would work tirelessly making fancy new dresses for Trixie. The apple family would be forced to joust each other for Trixie’s entertainment. Many pegasi, including Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash would be forced to fly her golden throne around. No one has seen Pinkie Pie for ages. There are rumors about that she is organizing the small resistance and has somehow survived without a mouth for so long. You’re not the kind to believe in such rumors.
>The cakes, now out of business, are forced to put up Trixie propaganda everywhere. The mayor is forced to walk around town with a sign around her neck, ‘Mayor Mare No More’. Foals. They have it easy. Trixie simply adores them aside from Snips and Snails. Those two are her personal servants.
>And what about you?
>”Mmph. Higher.” Trixie commands shortly before letting out a quiet coo.
>You are her personal masseur. It’s the job you had before the takeover and Trixie put your skills to her pleasure.

>Every evening just before the sun sets, Trixie commands you to help her unwind from the day.
>It goes without saying that you have thought of ways to hopefully end it all. You tried pulling the amulet off once before you knew she had to do it herself. No food for two days. After that, you’ve been on your behavior. For some time, you’ve considered breaking her neck or choking her, but pony necks are way too thick for that to be done so easily. Trixie would stop you in an instant.
>Ponies have complained to you for not taking advantage of Trixie’s vulnerability, but they don’t know just how dangerous it is for you. Trixie nearly dislocated your finger just from going over a muscle wrong. Granted, it was on purpose, but still.
>So now you play it cool. Play it safe.
>And rub just a little bit higher.
>Trixie lets out a quiet sigh.
>”As Trixie was saying, the ponies of Las Pegasus deserve to be stricken from Equestria. They’re dirty, cheating, lying scumbags and every single one of them should pay.” She says it so calmly, it’s like she’s complimenting them.
>That’s the advantage of your job. You catch what’s left of Trixie’s good side. Many ponies have it much worse than you. You’re not thankful for the luck, but you are in no way cursing it.
“Is that so?” You pick this response from the metaphorical hat in your mind.
>”Absolutely! Not any better than those barbaric griffons! If Las Pegasusians began eating meat, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference!”
“Oh my.”

>”Quite. Stop.”
>You immediately stop what you’re doing and take a step back.
>She stands up on the massage table and flexes and rotates her withers.
>”Much better. That’s quite a talent you have there, human.”
>Was… was that a compliment?
“Thank you, Trixie.”
>”Ah, ah, ah!”
“Ahem, my apologies. Thank you, The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
>She lets out a light chuckle in response to your obedience.
>”The pleasure was all mine.”
>She takes her cape that hung from the coat rack, and exits the spa, leaving you alone in this small white room. The Ponyville Spa has more or less become your home. It’s honestly a hell of a lot better than that piece of junk you rented on the outskirts of town. Aloe and Lotus have been drafted into the Trixie workforce, making this spa a very lonely place.
>However, with Trixie out and about the streets once more, ponies are more apt to visit to trade information and stories. No one comes to visit you since you’re forbidden from giving massages to anyone else, so it’s you who has to seek out company. It’s not as difficult as one would think. Not everyone can serve Trixie all at once, so several ponies wait in their homes until they are called upon.
>But you know of one pony who works in her home. She’s constantly working herself to the edge, day in and day out, doing something over and over to the point of uselessness.
>And one you haven’t spoken to in a while.

>An hour later after grabbing a small dinner and freshening up, you find yourself in front of the boutique. Just from standing outside you can faintly hear the sewing machines chittering away at whatever Trixie wants to wear or hang up around the town.
>You give the door a light knock and you hear an intelligible voice respond. Seconds later you hear trotting from behind the door.
>The harsh sliding and clinking of locks are heard before the door opens up to reveal an immaculate, but very tired looking white unicorn.
“Evening, Rarity.”
>She breathes a sigh of relief.
>”Thank heavens. I was worried it may have been Trixie. Please, come in. It’s as cold as ever, dear.”
>Trixie keeps it a cool 50 fahrenheit during the day, below freezing during the nights. Just a little warmer than her heart.
>You follow Rarity inside and into the kitchen as she puts on a pot of tea. Once again, you are the one who must listen to a mare’s problems, except Rarity has legitimate things to complain about and you don’t use cut and paste responses. She talks about everything she has to do, how often she accidentally pricks herself when being as tired as she is, how cruelly Trixie treats her more than others. It’s the same stuff she complained about a month ago, the last time you visited her, but she needed an ear to drain her worries into.
>After two cups of tea and a reheated croissant (Rarity is such a wonderful host.) she finishes with her problems.
>”That’s enough out of me. What have you been up to lately?”
>You only give her a light shrug before responding.
“You know. Keeping up with Trixie’s daily massage demands and not much more.”
>”Oof, what I would give for a deluxe special with the additional mud bath. Or a normal massage, really.”

“You know I’m not supposed to-“
>”IknowIknowIknow! I wouldn’t dare ask you to put yourself in danger for a little of my own relief.”
“Mmm. If everything goes back to normal-”
>”WHEN, Anonymous. Twilight will figure something out.”
“Right. When everything goes back to normal, I’ll get myself, Aloe, and Lotus to give everyone one free massage or something.”
>”I’m going to need a lot more than one to work out all this stress, darling.”
>You and Rarity share a light chuckle before another knocking at the door interrupts the two of you.
>”Oooh drat. That’s probably Trixie. Excuse me and p-please keep quiet.” Rarity whispers in a worried tone.
>You don’t have time to agree before Rarity quickly gallops towards the door. Soon enough you hear Rarity greet,
>”Ah, Trixie-“
>Trixie loudly clears her throat.
>”T-the Great and Powerful Trixie! I assume you’re here for your dress and I must say, it’s quite fabuloooous!” Huh. Rarity is a pretty good actor.
>”Hmph! Spare me the song and dance.” There is a small scuffle before the sound of trotting enters the main room. “Where is Trixie’s gown?”
>”It’s nearly finished. Would you like to see it so far?”
>”Nearly?! Trixie COMMANDED you to have it finished by tonight!”
>”I-I-It will! Only a few more hours and I’ll have it delivered to your door!”
>”… Very well. Trixie will forgive your tardiness IF and only IF she has her dress tonight.”
>Well done, Rarity. Although it seems you do have a night of work ahead of you.
>You take a semi-triumphant sip of your tea, even if it wasn’t your victory, before setting the cup down on the table.
>The clattering noise is so light. You swear it is.
>”What was that?”
>Son of a…

>Trixie pops her head into the kitchen a moment later, locking her eyes with your own. Both of you wear a shocked expression. Only hers is mild and yours not so much.
>After a short silence, Trixie speaks up but not before scoffing at you for something.
>”If you’re going to wear clothes all the time, at least wear something that is not an eyesore.”
>… You like your clothes.
>”Fashion pony!” Trixie calls back to Rarity. “After the dress, make a suit for the human. He needs it more than anyone else! Besides Trixie.”
>”A suit… for Anonymous?”
>”Was Trixie not clear enough?”
>”O-of course you were!”
>”Good.” Trixie turns back into the main room and heads for the exit. “That one can be done anytime. Trixie’s requests always take priority.”
>”Understood, The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
>You hear Trixie titter lightly before she exits the boutique while slamming the door shut.
>The other room is silent for a moment before you hear Rarity’s soft hoofbeats against the carpet approach.
>As she enters the kitchen, she refuses to take her eyes off the floor.
>”It was nice having you over, Anonymous. But I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
“Rarity-“
>”P-please. I must return to my work if I… if I want food.”
>She’s right. Rarity is obviously hurt from being talked down to like that, but she needs to sit down and concentrate.
“If there’s anything I can-“
>”I cannot allow mistakes and you are… inexperienced. I appreciate it, but please,”
“Right, right.”
>You sigh as you push yourself to your feet.
“It was a pleasure, Rarity. Thank you for the tea and food.”
>As you walk by, you brush a hand down the back of her neck and over her wither in hopes to comfort her a little.

>Hours later back at the home-spa thing. It still feels odd calling it your place of residence even if that’s exactly what it is. You find yourself winding down for the night. The sun has set and temperatures are dropping. Just as you’re about to call it a night, you hear a knocking at the door. Confused as to who could be visiting at this time of the night, you casually beckon them in.
>And as your luck has it, it just happens to be Trixie.
“Er… Great and Powerful Trixie!” You quickly scramble to attention. “What can I do for you this evening?”
>She is without her cape and looking much less malevolent than usual.
>”Hmph. You live here?”
>Yes, the white walls, dark aqua carpet, and pink trim aren’t exactly manly.
“Indeed I do, ma’am.”
>”…  Not bad… Now,” She turns to you with quite an evil grin. “Trixie is here for her Trixie tax.”
“Trixie… tax? I haven’t heard of this.”
>”Of course not. Trixie just enacted it today.”
>Trixie begins searching cabinets and shelves, looking for something.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but no one has money anymore…”
>You’re nervously twiddling your fingers now.
>”Trixie knows that. She isn’t looking to collect what isn’t here.”
“Then what-“
>”What ever I feel like.” She picks up a small, crude wax carving of a Dragon from high up where several shampoos used to lie. “What is this?”
>Is she seriously going to take whatever piques her interest? God damnit.
”Just something Applebloom made for me.”
>”Applebloom, is it?” She suddenly becomes much more invested in the mediocre statue.
“Yeah, I think she was trying to get a cutie mark in wax sculptures?”
>”Oh. She’s one of the fillies.” Trixie tosses the candle wax figure in a random direction and continues her search.
>She soon comes across something that to your displeasure, she really takes interest in.

>An autographed picture of you and Spitfire from the Wonderbolts. You didn’t really consider yourself attracted to these ponies yet, but Spitfire oozed with sensuality and not even you could deny it. How could you NOT get a photo when she last visited Ponyville?
>And when Dash got behind the camera and joked about making it a photo you wouldn’t forgot, she flittered up to your chest, rested a foreleg on your chest, and wrapped a hindleg around your waistline. How you weren’t blushing furiously and completely distracted is a mystery. But that confident grin on your face says you were having fun that day. And you were.
>Trixie noticed it as well.
>”My, my. Trixie had no idea you were so close to a member of the Wonderbolts.”
“Heh, yeah I-“
>Your words are stopped by the knot that forms in your gut when Trixie removes the photo from its frame.
>”Trixie likes it. That is, after she…”
>Trixie then rips the photo in half.
>“Much better.”
>She tosses the side with you on it by your feet.
>”This would look better with a picture of Trixie, don’t you think? I should make a spell that alters photos…”
>Trixie begins chatting with herself as she leaves your home with half of your favorite photo.
>Fucking Trixie tax.
>Fucking Trixie.