Work Text:
Jon sat with his hooves inches above the floor. His hooves have been hurting for a while now, worse than they usually do. He feared he’d have to go get his hooves trimmed. Trimmed by a stranger he didn’t know with fear knowing they could be doing a poor job and he wouldn’t be able to stop them.
Jon popped the tip of his pen in his mouth and ground it against his hard palate. He accidentally bit into the barrel and ink dripped onto his chin. Jon groaned and wiped the ink off with a spare napkin Martin had brought earlier with his tea.
He stood up from his desk and made his way into the hall. With each step, his hooves felt tighter and tighter. Jon did his best to make it up the stairs to get to the bathroom but that showed an even greater challenge.
Jon was sure his hooves were not broken. Sure he hadn’t gotten them trimmed in forever but he checked, and there were no cracks.
He would just have to go to a salon.
“Jon, are you okay?”
Jon turned to see Martin standing at the end of the stairs. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re limping. Did you fall?”
Jon shook his head and pushed his hair back between his horns. “I’m fine. I’m just having some hoof issues.”
“Is it a pressure bubble? I get those- easy fixes.”
“Let me guess. . .” Jon huffed. “Trimming?”
“Do you not like trimming?” Martin asks, rubbing his hoofed palms together.
Jon turned and struggled to walk back down the stairs. “Not particularly. No.”
“Do goats have sensitive hooves?” Martin asked, his little bull ears twitching.
“No. . . I just don’t like getting my hooves trimmed. Never did.” Jon stopped for a moment and ground his teeth against his hard palate. “Don’t trust strangers to literally cut chunks of me off.”
“You know I had to learn how to trim hooves for my mom. I took classes and everything.”
Jon’s thick brow furrowed. “Really?”
Martin set a hand on his hip and waved his other. “I did! I have a salon-grade trimmer and everything! I even have one for palms.”
Jon paused for a moment. Martin was an idiot, sure. But if he was lying about this and he did mutilate Jon’s hooves Jon could press charges.
But it was an odd thing to lie about. Jon had heard in passing about Martin’s mother. It wouldn’t be impossible that sickness made her unable to go to salons regularly.
“You really took classes and really know how to trim hooves?”
“ Yes !”
“You’re not going to mutilate me, right?” Jon asks with a bit to much desperation in his tone.
“Never mutilated anyone yet! You could come by tonight and we can be done in ten minutes tops!”
“Fine. . . you don’t have a car do you?”
“No, we’d have to take the tube,” Martin says as his ears twitch.
Jon puffed and started to hobble back to his office. “That’s fine. . . ten minutes tops.”
“Ten minutes tops!” Martin echoed.
Jon made his way back to his office and sat down on his chair. He just had to wait until the workday was over. Unless someone asked him to go get something he could just ask Martin to grab things for him. He’d especially do anything Jon asked now that he knew Jon was in pain.
The day went by easier with that fact. Martin even told Sasha and Tim that he had a pressure bubble and even they were easy on him. But neither of them have hooves so they probably thought that it’s something worse than it is. Tim was even concerned that Jon needed to go to the hospital.
Tim looked rather disgusted once Jon said the way to get rid of pressure bubbles was to pop them. Jon shared the sentiment.
The day took forever to finally end. Jon found himself sitting with his feet hovering off the ground.
Martin came around and knocked on Jon’s office door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. . . I am,” Jon said meekly, getting up from his chair.
“Just take your time!” Martin chirps. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore.”
Jon took his time indeed. Walking to the train station was a nightmare. The rough surface of the concrete felt like Hell against his hooves. The train ride was worse.
The vibrations sent shocks through his hooves and legs, and Jon had to literally fight back tears. Martin urged for him to sit down, and Jon reluctantly agreed.
Sitting down, let him hold him and hover his feet, keeping them from being affected by the bumps and shakes of the train.
When they got to Martin’s place, Jon was practically crawling. Going so slow and at such a steady pace, Martin had to wait for him for many moments.
But Martin never complained. He’d ask Jon if he was okay and simply wait. Jon felt. . . bad. He felt embarrassed. He hated that he agreed to this and simply wanted to go home.
But Jon really couldn’t hold this off any longer. He needed his hooves trimmed, he needed help with this. And Martin was cheaper than a salon. Knowing how long it’d been since last he got trimmed, it’d be rather expensive with how much that had to cut off.
The inside of Martin’s apartment was small and homey. Little flower paintings littered the walls and the entire place smelled like tea.
Martin set his coat on the coffee table and motioned for Jon to sit on the couch. Jon obeyed and pressed his knees together tightly.
“I’ll go get the trimmer. Just. . . make yourself comfortable.”
“Where are we going to do it?” Jon asks.
“Oh,” Martin chirps,” his ears twitching. “We could do it on the couch, it may be a bit uncomfortable. Or we could do it in the bedroom, that might be more comfortable.”
“The couch is fine,” Jon snaps.
Jon felt embarrassed at the idea of laying on his stomach, spread out of Martin’s bed. Having to hold his legs up just so Martin can hover over him.
Martin shrugged. “Whatever works.”
He disappeared into the hall and Jon looked around.
On the coffee table was a bottle of calf’s salt bites. Jon rolled his eyes at the idea of Martin chewing on salt cubes meant for calfs. But he did feel nervous and felt the sudden urge to rub his hard palate.
Jon quickly snatched the bottle and popped three of the tiny salt bites into his mouth. The feeling of them grinding against his gums felt nice. It made him feel slightly calmer.
He set the bottle back on the table and Martin came back with a rather threatening-looking trimmer.
Jon found himself chewing rather loudly.
“Oh, you found the salt licks!” Martin says.
“Sorry, I should have asked. . .” Jon huffs.
“No, no it’s fine. Have as many as you’d like. They’re. . . super cheap.”
“Is that why you buy the one for calves?”
Martin smiles. “That and they're shaped like little stars. The points. . . feel good.”
Jon agreed. The little points of the stars rubbed against his hard palate and it did feel very good. Much better than the salt bars he’d buy on the way to work.
“Are you ready?” Martin asks.
Jon swallowed the little bits of salt in his mouth. “Yeah. . . now or never I suppose.”
Jon reached down to his hooves to take his caps off. He felt a bit of dread, it’s been so long since anyone had seen his hooves. Jon knows they don’t look good. They're far too long and curved. The bottoms are crusted and just don't look nice.
Jon swallowed as he took the caps off and set them to the side. He slid his coat off and used it as a pillow as he lay on his stomach and hung his legs over the edge of the couch.
“Oh,” Martin hushed.
Jon’s heart dropped. He felt a horrible rush of embarrassment. Jon didn’t know what to say or what to do. So all he did was say, “I’m sorry. . .”
Jon wasn’t sure who was sorry too. Or why he was sorry. He was just sorry. Is he sorry he doesn’t take care of himself? Or maybe he’s sorry someone had to see how he doesn’t take care of himself.
“Don’t be. This is easy. I can do this in a jiffy.”
Jon could hear Martin smiling. He was clearly just being nice.
“You can tell me when you're ready.”
“I’m ready,” Jon huffs.
Martin grabbed Jon’s calf. Jon felt his heart thump as the metal of the tool pressed against his hoof.
Slice .
Jon whimpered and recoiled. He bit down on his palate and gripped onto his coat.
“Oh- are you okay?” Martin asks with concern.
“I’m fine” Jon Huffs. “I just. . . I’m not used to this.”
“Salons can be scary I know. I used to hate going. Sometimes you just have to find a person you trust. Do you want me to keep going?”
Jon bit his lip and nodded. “Just be quick.”
Martin repositioned Jon’s legs and went back to work. Jon did his best not to whimper or whine but found it hard.
It didn’t hurt. Not at all. In fact, it felt rather nice, like pressure being lifted off of him.
Then Martin found the pressure bubble.
Jon moaned. He didn’t mean to but that bubble popping felt amazing. Like the pressure in his leg had never existed.
Martin made a noise and hurried into the kitchen. He came back with some napkins and hurried to clean up the mess.
“I didn’t get anything on your carpet did I?”
Martin huffed and gave a little laugh. “Nothing I can’t get out.”
Martin cleaned up and went back to trimming.
Jon found himself enjoying his time far more than he thought he would. He did feel embarrassed at his little sighs and definitely felt embarrassed at the moan he let out but Martin probably understood.
Jon’s hooves were horrible. So of course, trimming would feel good.
Martin pulled away and set the tool on the coffee table. “I probably should have put a towel down,” He said.
“I’ll help you clean up,” Jon says. “Are you done?”
“Yeah, you can do a test run if you’d like.”
Jon smiled and moved to his butt. He set his hooves on the ground and to his shock, it didn’t hurt. Jon stood and clicked a few steps forward.
It felt amazing. No pain, no pressure. Jon turned to Martin and his smile faded.
He was dramatically shorter.
He now had to actually look up just to look Martin in the face. He looked down at his hooves and looked back to Martin.
“I don’t remember being this short,” Jon laughed.
Martin shrugged. “You are a goat. They don’t tend to be very tall.”
“Oh, and cows are?”
Martin motioned to himself. “I’m actually taller than the average height for a bull.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. I’m really big for someone born a cow. I know I don’t know much about goats but you seem like a fine height, especially after that much of a trimming.” Martin huffed and clapped his hands together. “Do you want me to do your palms?”
Jon looked down to the hooves on his palms. His palms were rough and jagged. He ground on his hard palate and said. “If you don’t mind.”
Martin smiled and hurried to the back. Jon sat back down and waited patiently. He smiled and clicked his hooves against the wooden floor.
Jon looked over to his hoof caps and cringed.
They were stretched and deformed. There’s no way they’d fit his freshly trimmed hooves. He’d have to walk home without caps and that sounded like a nightmare.
Jon hated walking on concrete with bare hooves.
Martin came back with a smaller kind of trimmer and a towel. He sat down next to Jon and set the items on his lap.
“Hand?” Martin asks.
Jon stuck his hand out and Martin took it gracefully. He pressed the trimmer against Jon’s palm and carefully shaved the palm smooth.
He was so gentle with Jon’s hand. Making sure not to pull or squeeze.
Jon couldn’t help but stare as Martin shaved away at his palm.
It didn’t hurt and Martin didn’t scrape his skin. Martin’s skin was so soft and his palm’s hooves were smooth and gentle against the back of his hand.
Jon sighed and Martin moved to his other hand. He finished sometime after and set the tool down.
He guided Jon to whip his hands on the towel.
“I’m guessing you don’t have any hoof care stuff at home,” Martin says, oddly kindly.
Jon shook his head. “No. . . no I don’t.”
Martin got up and motioned for Jon to follow him. Jon and Martin went to his bedroom.
Jon sat on Martin’s bed as Martin fished through his bedside. He pulled out a few bottles and then went into the hall into his bathroom. He came back with a few more bottles and set them on top of his bedside.
“So!” Martin starts. “There are a few things I use all the time. Most of it’s targeted for cows but I know it’s fine for other hoofed animals.”
“Yeah,” Jon puffs.
“Do you- mind if I-” Martin stammers.
“Go ahead,” Jon says flicking his wrist.
Martin poured some kind of lotion into his hand and gently took hold of Jon’s hand. Martin rubbed the lotion against his hooved palms.
Now that felt nice, Jon thought.
Martin gently massaged Jon’s hands then meekly pulled away.
“I like to use that every morning, there's one meant for your hooves as well. But you could use this for both your hooves and palms.”
“I’m not going to remember to pick them up, I’ll be honest.”
Martin slumps his shoulders. “I’ll get you some. I don’t really get the expensive stuff. I don’t mind.”
“Martin, you really don’t have to.”
“No! No, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.” Martin looks down to Jon’s stomach. “Do you. . . have any udder care stuff?”
Jon felt a rush of embarrassment. “I-” He stammered. “No. . . no I don’t.”
“I can get you some of that too. I know how annoying bras can be on your udder.”
Jon bit his lip. “I. . . don’t wear a bra.”
“You don’t? Isn’t it uncomfortable against your clothes?”
Jon shrugs. “I’m used to it. I guess I get some chafing here and there but it’s fine.”
“Why don’t you wear a bra?”
Jon felt his cheeks go pink. “I just. . .” He sat there and rubbed his freshly shaved palms together. “Feel uncomfortable buying one.”
“Oh. . .” Martin hushes. “I understand. When I started transitioning and I started looking like this I felt like a fish out of water buying a lot of things in public.”
Jon rubs the back of his neck. “I feel like I should be too old to worry about things like that.”
Martin smiles and sets his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Being a trans animal is hard. If you want I’ll help you buy a bra. We can measure you and order it offline if you’d like.”
Jon looked up to Martin and smiled. “Yeah. . . we can do that.”
“I don’t have anything to measure you now but we could do it tomorrow. I could pick up a tape from the store.”
Jon and Martin spent just a bit more time together, it was just awkward chitchat, but Jon was irritated by it like he usually is. Jon eventually left and spent the rest of his night rubbing his palms. He couldn’t help it. They were smooth, soft even. They felt nice to the touch for the first time in a long time. Jon couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a smile.
The next day, Jon strolls into his office and finds a little basket sitting right in front of his chair. It's stuffed with little goodies, some star-shaped salt licks meant for calves especially caught his eye. He popped a few out and groundthemn against his hard pallet with a beaming smile.