They start with your feet, lifting them into the air and covering them with cold, slimy oil. They push in to your crevices inch by inch with their smooth thumbs, pushing and pushing and pushing. You twitch on occasion when their nails slip against your skin, sharp, jarring but the sensation is gone as rapidly as it came. A dull ache begins to grow underneath the skin, burrowing into your arch. They seem to spend longer on your heel, the reasons for which are completely lost to you - they have barely made a sound, let alone allow a word out of their body. They push the skin on the top of your feet towards the toes, making them feel... longer? They set your feet onto the bed, the oil sticking to the sheet laid over it, gripping them down. Your feet have never felt better.
	Next comes the legs and the same viscous oil, tickling the sides of your calves as it runs down to voraciously cover as much as ground as possible. They begin to press down in concentric circles, small at first but increasing in size every rotation. Increasing, increasing, increasing... Surely your legs weren't this big? Yet the circles keep getting bigger, harsher, harder to understand. Finally they cease, a tiny breath out lingering in the air, before they move up and begin the process again on your thighs. Larger, larger, ever larger the circles spiral out, expanding incomprehensibly to a corkscrew crescendo, then nothing. You feel their hands drag over to the bottom of your thighs, where their impossibly large thumbs push in, every sinew shifting out of the way as they push. They release and move up to do it again. And again. And again and again and again. Another breath marks another pause. Your legs have never felt better.
	You feel a brush of a hand against yours on the left... and on the right. At the same time. How could they even do that? You desperately try to crane your neck around to take a look but the required effort isn't forthcoming, leaving you motionless. The way things have been so far, the end result feels good, so you place your trust in the process. The brushing feeling grows stronger and moves up your arms, progressively moving from top to bottom, bottom to top, becoming increasingly light and gentle. In moments there's a sharp scratch, but the pain doesn't last, and each subsequent time feels more distant. The feeling to twitch your arms comes up but has no result. Your arms have never felt better.
	They move swiftly over to your back, kneading it with their palms and thumbs in equal measure, working away at those many stubborn knots and aches that brought you here in the first place. Their technique is undeniable and it feels natural to start relaxing again. This is what it's all about! Feeling soothed, comfortable, normal, happy! Every gnawing twinge, every stinging throb, being settled moment by moment, allowing your brain the clarity from pain and discomfort it has been desperately craving for years. Your back has never felt better.
	After a momentary pause, you feel some round objects being placed on your back, likely for a hot stone massage that you've heard so much about. They're definitely hot. Extremely hot. Searingly, blazingly hot. Burning through the surface of your skin, touching your spine. The pain is excruciating and unceasing. You hear a crack, the stones sink deeper, burning through your body. It's impossible to think any more, to breathe, to move. Suddenly, they seize the top of your head with their hands and begin shifting your scalp, twisting and moving it like a piece of cloth. Their head is close to yours and you can finally hear their breathing, rapid and exhausting, almost panting. You feel a stone reach the front of your chest and blister through to the bed. It's all too much.
	You awake in a plush, vibrating recliner. You have never, ever felt better.