“Aaarghh…” you groan as you slowly come around. You’ve been to some hardcore parties before, but whatever gave you a headache this bad must have been awesome. Seriously, it’s like somepony took a hammer to the inside of your head while you were asleep (or out cold, whatever). Stallion, does that hurt! So does most of your back, and this cold, hard thing you’re lying on doesn’t relieve any of it. Eyes still closed, you try to pick yourself up, on to find your front hooves refusing to budge. All you can guess is that you, or somepony else, has fallen asleep on them and they’ve gone dead. Curious as to whom you might have fallen asleep with, you crack one eye open and take a peek.
There’s no pony lying on your right hoof, and you realise that it’s not even numb. It’s tied down, pinned in place by a wide, elasticated band around your ankle. It’s tight, far too tight to consider trying to slip your hoof through it. You turn your head and look to your left hoof, to find it pinned down in a similar way. Both are held straight out to your sides. After a little struggling, you work out that both your hind legs are tied down too, as straight behind you as your haunches will allow. A few thoughts run through your head as to what might be going on here, and you quickly become intrigued by one thought: this is a bondage scene. All the right things are in the right places for it, although maybe cold steel isn’t the best kind of table for such and act, but still, tied down on your back in a way that allows easy access to your stallionhood? Bondage, no doubt. Of course, such a scene doesn’t work with only one pony, so who and where is your partner?
You glance upwards, or behind you, and find no one. However, there are some… interesting looking things back there in the gloomy room, mostly looking like machinery, each piece being centred around a steel table with straps on poles – much like what you’re strapped to now. Except these don’t look like the sort of devices you’d find in a kink basement. These look like the kind of devices you’d find in some sort of torture chamber. Of particular note is one blood-splattered piece, with knifes and saws held in long mechanical arms, unpowered but allowing the blades to be manoeuvred easily with one hoof. Panicking a little, you look above you and see that your bed is fitted with similar extensions, as well as being surrounded by a few tables that present gleaming, more manual instruments upon white cloth that’s been stained red in more than a few places. Trying to find some sort of relief from your growing fears, you look down. And immediately wish you hadn’t.
There’s a huge hole in the skin of your underbelly, which easily extends up to your sternum. You can clearly see your breastbone moving up and down with each panicked breath, gradually getting faster and faster as you start to hyperventilate. Your guts lie in a twisting clump in the hollow of your belly, occasionally shifting with a soft squelch. Perhaps worst of all, no, definitely worst, is the way your heart is thumping away in you opened chest, broadcasting you panic to the entire room. And, as if somepony was listening to Radio Terror, the double doors at the far end of the room are pushed open.
“Oh goody, you’re awake!” a scarily cheerful voice notes, as a shockingly pink filly trots her way through the room towards you. “That makes things a whole lot better! I mean, I did start while you were asleep, but it was BOOO-RING! It really helps if you can talk to somepony while you work, don’tcha think?”
“Who the… where the… what the…?” is all you can manage to answer with.
“Wow, aren’t you the talkative one?” the floss-maned filly says as she takes position next to you, “So many questions you can’t help but trip over them all, right? Well, don’t worry! You’ll find out what’s going on soon enough!” She turns away, fiddling with something on one of the table, before turning back to you, her right hoof now adorned with some sort of bladed claw gauntlet. “Oh, this is gonna be a scream!”
If you weren’t so terrified, you likely would.