Anon On a Bike: 3

>You are Anonymous.

>You have just woken up from quite a dream.

>It went along the lines of you traveling to another universe on your bike.

>Then there was something about being chased by a lion.

>Or was it a scorpion?

>You really don't feel like trying to remember.

>You just want to enjoy the super soft sheets of your bed for a while.

>...

>Waitaminute

>Your bed isn't this soft.

>Neither are your pillows.

>And you never, EVER, sleep on your back.

>You also don't feel like you're wearing anything down there, when you usually do.

>AND you're still wearing your watch in your bed.

>Something's up.

>You try moving around, but there are heavy sheets keeping you down.

>You're either very weak, or you're just being sluggish and lazy: your typical morning self.

>You try to raise the sheets, but there's an immediate burst of pain in your right shoulder.

>That starts off a chain reaction.

>You feel a headache coming on.

>Your left arm and leg feels like they're burning up.

>Your lower back is wrought with sharp pain, like dozens of needles are sticking  into your sides and spine.

>Both of your achilles' tendons feel extremely sore.

>They feel like they're resting on wood, most likely the footboard.

>The bed feels narrow as well.

>If you splay your good arm out a little, you can feel the side of the bed.

>The bed's too small for you.

>Just great.

>You try to open your eyes.

>Dammit, that sticky shit's somehow formed and glued your eyes shut.

>You stop struggling and do your best to keep the pain from getting any worse.

>So you lie there for a while, letting your mind try to figure things out.

>/"If yesterday was a dream, how come I'm not in MY bed?"/

>/"Did we go up north?"/

>/"Maybe, the beds up there are soft, and a couple have heavy sheets and are pretty small, but that doesn't explain lying on your back."/

>/"Perhaps there was an accident of sorts that knocked you out, and your parents got you in bed."/

>/"Makes sense, the nearest hospital was about two hours away, but you don't remember going up north at all."/

>/"Yes, it was a three-day weekend, but you don't recall any plans about going up."/

>...

>Okay, for now, all you know is that you're up north, but you need to confirm it.

>If only this sticky shit wasn't on your eyelids.

>So you rest, allowing your muscles to relax and the pain to subside.

>As you lay there, you start to hear things.

>Up north, compared to the suburbs, was dead silent.

>There was the occasional car and the loons tended to sing, but other than that, you could hear the faintest of noises.

>As you slow your breathing, you begin to hear animals.

>Lots of animals.

>Birds singing, rodents chattering, and stomping feet of all kinds could've been heard.

>Your father would never allow any animal in the cottage save for the dog and injured birds.

>The door may have been left open by accident and the critters decided to pile in.

>But that would never happen with your parents around.

>Your brain can't take this constant flow of evidence denying any hard sensible logic and it begins to ache again.

>There is a consensus: /"Fuuuuuck."/

>After five or thirty minutes of throbbing headaches, you finally recover.

>You feel a surplus of strength in your left arm.

>You decide it's time to get moving.

>With a twist of the shoulders, you push with your good arm and try to throw the sheets off with a dramatic flourish.

 

>They only fold up and come to rest part of the way.

>/"Close enough."/

 

>You push the covers the rest of the way off, and you already feel a cold breeze.

>You have no idea why someone stripped you bare, but you intend to find out.

>With your arms finally free, you reach up with your good one and pinch the thin lines of sticky goo off of your eyes.

>With the sticky shit off, you slowly open your eyes and take in the ceiling.

 

>Nighttime.

>With little lighting, you can see the smooth ceiling is a light shade of earth.

>A interesting choice for a cottage.

>You strain your torso and neck to get a look at the room.

>It's definitely a cottage, but it's definitely not yours.

>There are various nicknacks, brightly painted walls, and a pretty smooth wooden floor.

>Your bed was indeed not meant for your size, and the sheets have an intricate and brightly colored pattern.

>You look to left, and see silver light from the moon outside the window next to your bed.

>You check your watch, and it's on its stopwatch for some reason.

>It's been running for over 10 hours.

>Why?

>...hell if you know.

>You look to your right, and to your surprise discover your clothes neatly folded and resting on a wooden chest.

>You even see the white cords of your headphones on top of your iPod.

>You take a few seconds to thank whoever helped you and didn't steal your music player.

>...

>Well, enough sleeping.

>Time to get up.

>You slowly raise your upper torso into a semi sitting position, careful not to strain anything.

>On instinct, you move your elbows back to use as braces.

>Your right shoulder stings in protest.

>The sudden pain makes you go "Ah!" and you pull yourself quickly into a full sitting position.

>It's your back's turn to protest.

>Under the bandages on your back, you feel something warm putting on pressure.

"Dammit, did the wound open?" you whisper to yourself.

>Whatever happened to your back was pretty severe.

>You aren't laying on it anytime soon.

>You sit there and take in the rest of the colorful room.

>There's an opening in the corner that most likely leads to some stairs.

>You're on the second floor.

>Everything's happening downstairs, and your curiosity is getting the better of you...

>Again.

>You swing your legs to the left, and you see what looks like scratch marks on your left leg.

>It doesn't hurt so you brush it off as a part of whatever happened yesterday.

>Being careful with your right arm, you slide of the bed and slowly lower yourself onto the wooden floor.

>There's no breaking of bones or sharp pain when you stand erect, just stiff joints all around.

>You do what you can in terms of stretching, but your back still feels like it's bleeding so you avoid stretching it out.

>You walk around the bed and to the chest with your clothes on top.

>You reach for your thermal underwear and...

 

>It's dry.

 

>You pick it up and put to your nose to smell it.

 

>It doesn't reek of sweat.

 

>Whoever took care of you took the time to bandage you up and wash your clothes.

>You have a mighty debt to pay.

>Remembering your sense of decency, you begin to put your clothes on.

>You do so quietly so you can hear what's going on downstairs.

>You hear a door opening.

>Maybe it's your parents coming to check up on you.

>You hear a distinctive "clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop."

>"So, Fluttershy, what exactly does he look like?"

>...

>Not your parents in the slightest.

>There is a pause, and now you hear a second set of horse hooves clip-clopping inside the house.

>Your brain is having another breakdown.

>/"What the fuck is going on?"/

>/"Who names their kid Fluttershy?"/

>/"And what's with these horses?"/

>/"WHAT, THE, FUCK?"/

 

>"Yeah..."

>She sounds definitely female.

>Sounds young, maybe early teens or somewhere around puberty.

>Another pause, and a rather lengthy one.

>This "Fluttershy" is probably soft-spoken.

>Makes sense if the name means anything.

>"Huh...are you sure he's not an ape, because that's what it sounds like."

>Are they talking about you?

>Wait...

>Two sets of horse hooves.

>The first set was first heard along with the emerging of the girl's voice.

>There's got to be some connection.

>"Okay, lead the way."

>There's more clip-clopping, only it's starting to get louder.

>Sounds like it's coming up the stairs.

>Your mind muses that you're dealing with centaurs, or everyone has a horse with them at all times.

>/"Either way you're still naked you lazy bastard!"/

>Panicking, you bend over and do a small hop to get your underwear on.

>You screw up and have one foot go into the left hole while the other steps on the underwear.

>You find yourself tumbling to to the right.

>With your hands still grabbing your undies, you fall head first into the footboard.

"Shit!"

>*Thunk*

>Flash of light, then head-splitting pain.

>You land on the wooden floor with your right shoulder.

>*Thud*

>More pain.

>/"FUCK!"/

>You can't even yell out because of the sheer agony.

>By instinct, you roll onto your stomach.

>You could only lay there, writhing in the pain caused by your head and shoulder.

>Your legs are twitching, and your hands are balled into shaking fists.

>You're close to hyperventilating.

>You almost don't hear a gasp and even louder clip-clopping.

>It doesn't help your head.

>"Oh, poor dear."

>This voice is a lot softer than the other.

>"Must be Fluttershy." says your brain.

>Back to pain.

>Another gasp, but it's interrupted by Fluttershy.

>"Twilight, help me get him in bed."

>You're not even gonna question someone named Twilight.

>You're in far too much pain to ask.

>"Celestia, what is it?"

>"Twilight?"

>"It's looks an ape, but it has much less hair."

>She sound's like she's becoming giddy with excitement.

>"Twilight."

>"And its back is curved!

>No ape on record has a cur-"

>"TWILIGHT!"

>...

>"Uh, please?"

>"On, right."

>Clip-clop.

>You hear Twilight grunt in concentration.

>/"But she's not even touching youWOAH!"/

>You feel something press down on your entire body before you're lifted into the air.

>/"Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefkuck"/

>The pressure makes your arm burn more and your back goes numb.

>You're lowered into the bed on your stomach, but it does little to alleviate the pain.

 

>Here you are, naked, and being handled like an animal by little magical centaur girls.

>Your body is a sheer wreck.

>Your brain is messed up.

>It's been through so much in such little time.

>This must be a dream.

>Hell, you'll accept that you're tripping on something, even though you've been clean your whole life.

>Anything to make sense of any of this.

"Fuuu..."

>"He's talking? Is he trying to talk?"

>Why yes, Ms. Twilight.

>Anon here is just attempting to inform you that he is experiencing the most intense pain he's ever had in his short life, and you're not helping in getting rid of said pain.

>Fuck you.

"Ff...fuu-"

>"Mister ape, uh, sir, can you understand me?

>I mean, apes don't talk, and from what I've read there aren't any apes around here and-"

>She rants, rants, and rants some more at an ever increasing pace.

>It sounds like it will never end.

>At points, Fluttershy tries to intervene, but the magic girl is on a roll.

>All the while, your headache is turning into a migraine.

>Holy SHIT it hurts.

>You shut your eyes tight and slowly bring your hands to your head to try and stop to pain.

>It's not going away anytime soon.

 

>At some point, Ms. Chatterbox approached the side of the bed.

>She sounds to be a couple of feet away, well withing arm's reach.

>She just HAS to shut up.

>So you shoot your hand out towards Twilight's voice.

 

>You grab something soft.

>"Mph!"

>Somehow, you've grabbed her mouth.

>You can't figure out why his girl's mouth has fur around it.

>You feel Twilight trying to pull away frantically, but you hold on.

>She needs to get the point.

>You hear the other girl pleading to you, but you ignore her.

 

>That is, until you hear some strange sound, and you feel pressure on your hand.

>Without warning, your fingers are ripped off of Twilight.

>They're pried off so hard you feel a finger breaking.

>You pull back your hand, trying to scream but your dry throat denies it.

 

>There's only the sound of your heavy breathing.

>The breathing quickens.

>It then turns into sobbing.

>You've had enough of this shit.

>You're already sick of magical centaur kids handling you like you're a pet of sorts.

>You want to wake up.

>You want to go home.

>You're just a spoiled faggot, pampered by parents but allowed enough intelligence to see the world and just how fuckin' lucky you are.

>You know you wouldn't last a week in the real world, let alone in an entirely new place.

>Dammit, you just want to go home.

>...

 

>The pressure's back.

>Instead of pain flaring up in your wounds, the pain goes away.

>Your finger realigns itself and the pain subsides.

>Your head stops throbbing and your migraine lesses into a subtle headache before disappearing completely.

>You can think clearly again.

>/"...What?"/

>You open your eyes and try to look around, but lying on your stomach doesn't give you much to look at.

>You strain your head to the left near the foot of the bed, and in the corner of your vision you see a purple glow.

>Definitely magic.

>This has to be a dream, so you decide to go back to sleep in an attempt to wake up.

>Before closing your eyes, you try to tell Twilight, "Sorry."

>You fall asleep before you could.