Fiction - My Masseuse
Title: My Masseuse
Words: 340
Warnings: Original crackfic involving dragons
My Masseuse
I see a masseuse named Hilde twice a month. The common wisdom holds that transformations are magical and so there are no actual bones shifting around (and potentially not shifting back to quite where they belong afterwards), but I've always been a bit paranoid about that. I used to see a chiropractor, but he was never as- well, to be honest, he was never as large, Nordic, and savage as Hilde, and when I met her during her brief internship at his office, she made a client for life.
Hilde is perfectly willing to believe I'm a dragon, too, which makes her easy to talk to during our sessions. Apparently, her grandmother knew a dragon back in the Old Country - which Old Country, Hilde's never said. Hilde herself had never met one of us before me, but when she saw me, she said it was pretty obvious. That makes her unique (it's sure as heck not obvious to Tom, and he's seen more of me than anyone else alive). Technically it also makes her a liability, but Hilde's very discrete, and anyway, she wears crystals and no one takes anyone wearing crystals seriously enough to, say, track down their draconic client with an angry mob, or worse, a process server.
We have a special relationship, Hilde and I. She pounds and manhandles me in ways that Tom raises eyebrows over - one time, one tiny bruise, but he's the worrying kind. If she lacks the viciously deadly undercurrents that would really get me going, it's not for lack of trying. Not her fault she'll never make it over 250 pounds, no matter how many chocolates I bring her, and that's probably for the best. After all, it would be difficult to explain if I suddenly sprouted wings and destroyed her office through sheer displacement, and neither of us would want to face Tom afterwards, I'm sure. No, we'll always be just friends, but twice a month, I worship her like... well, like the Female she almost is.
Words: 340
Warnings: Original crackfic involving dragons
My Masseuse
I see a masseuse named Hilde twice a month. The common wisdom holds that transformations are magical and so there are no actual bones shifting around (and potentially not shifting back to quite where they belong afterwards), but I've always been a bit paranoid about that. I used to see a chiropractor, but he was never as- well, to be honest, he was never as large, Nordic, and savage as Hilde, and when I met her during her brief internship at his office, she made a client for life.
Hilde is perfectly willing to believe I'm a dragon, too, which makes her easy to talk to during our sessions. Apparently, her grandmother knew a dragon back in the Old Country - which Old Country, Hilde's never said. Hilde herself had never met one of us before me, but when she saw me, she said it was pretty obvious. That makes her unique (it's sure as heck not obvious to Tom, and he's seen more of me than anyone else alive). Technically it also makes her a liability, but Hilde's very discrete, and anyway, she wears crystals and no one takes anyone wearing crystals seriously enough to, say, track down their draconic client with an angry mob, or worse, a process server.
We have a special relationship, Hilde and I. She pounds and manhandles me in ways that Tom raises eyebrows over - one time, one tiny bruise, but he's the worrying kind. If she lacks the viciously deadly undercurrents that would really get me going, it's not for lack of trying. Not her fault she'll never make it over 250 pounds, no matter how many chocolates I bring her, and that's probably for the best. After all, it would be difficult to explain if I suddenly sprouted wings and destroyed her office through sheer displacement, and neither of us would want to face Tom afterwards, I'm sure. No, we'll always be just friends, but twice a month, I worship her like... well, like the Female she almost is.