Becoming Fluttershy

by Hope

chapter 53. Now assume the crash position

I wake up to the feeling of pressure against my back, uncomfortably flattening my wings against me.
Instinctively I move away, though the motion causes a spike of pain to shoot from my temple through my head to my left ear, making me cringe.
The pressure against my back subsides long enough for me to notice that my legs are bound in thick, uncomfortable rope that has already managed to bite through my coat and leave the skin beneath raw, aching.

And I cannot see.

My nose picks up the taint of car exhaust and oil, a bitter smell that repels me, but I can also smell clothes, freshly washed, along with a hint of leather that makes my stomach churn.

I take a moment to prod around with my bound hooves and discover that I am not covered by a blanket, but rather a nylon container that strikes a stunning resemblance to…

“I’ve been stuffed in airline luggage.” I groan, laying my head down and doing my best not to cry out when another shock of pain strikes. Rather I just hiss, drawing a slow breath through my teeth as I clench my jaw.

The pain subsides and I bring my forehooves up to gnaw on the rope, the natural fiber surprisingly good tasting, considering the state of affairs.
After several minutes, I manage to get myself a bit of freedom, and poke around the inside of the luggage prison, finding no way to unzip myself or rip the thing, without inducing another terrible headache.

So I let myself lay there on a bed of what I have now identified as clean t-shirts, and contemplate my situation.
Another pony who looked just like me had been able to sound enough like Apple Bloom for me to give her the password to my phone. Then she had knocked me out. This does not bode well for being the one who would bring the ponies of New York together, and plan a daring victory over Discord.

No, instead it sounds exactly like something that would happen to Fluttershy. It sounds exactly like the sort of failure I’ve come to expect of myself.
I let the silence overwhelm me, as I whimper myself back to sleep, unable to gather the strength to escape, unable to find the sorrow to cry.

---

I wake up again, but this time to a pressure against my hind legs. I stand on them shakily, and realize the bag is being rolled, forcing me into a standing position to stay right side up.
This is it. I have to escape now, or they will discover that I’ve freed myself… partially.
I move forward enough to grab the siding in my teeth, and begin to chew.
Immediately I gag, as the taste of dead skin fills my mouth, and the bag stops, being laid down as I struggle to breathe, coughing despite knowing that I need to remain silent.
The bag opens with a raspy zip, and I look up, teary eyed, at my captor, through a flood of light that assaults me with the new opening in my darkened prison.

He is a big man, but not from excess. This is the sort I would expect to see in a bar room brawl, or pulling a plow if he had been a pony. His eyes are sharp and they scrutinize me carefully: he notes my partially open mouth, and the bite mark on the side of the bag, he notes the frayed ropes, and he notes my tears.
All of this without emotion. Like a wolf looking over carrion and judging it’s worth as a meal.
I look away, knowing there is nothing I can do, as his rough hands grasp me around one foreleg, and he lifts me out, cautiously looking at my element, though making no attempt to take it or touch it.

As I am taken out of the bag, I can see where we are, but not enough to help. We are in the entryway to a run-down house, the brown tiles that speckle the floor half ripped up, and the wallpaper peeling. I can hear a dog barking in the distance, the only thing breaking the silence of the night, which makes me feel even more isolated. The Earth’s moon peeks through a window, the only observer of my plight is an alien orb.

I dangle like a dishcloth from his hand, and my weight might as well be as insignificant, as he lays the bag down and takes me around the barrel like a dead dog being carried at a distance. He then takes me to a closet that appears to have been outfitted for this purpose.

“One night here, then we will leave. No screaming, and there won’t be a gag. No hurting yourself, and you will have blankets and a pillow. No trying to escape, and you will have food.”

He sets me down on the lone pillow on the bare wood floor, and he crouches to my level.

“Do you understand?”

I nod, and whisper in reply. “Y… yes.”

He nods in return, flipping a switch on the other side of the wall, which turns a light above me on. He then closes the door, and a deadbolt is slid into position.
I look around, thinking maybe there might be something here, anything to give me hope.

The closet is empty except for the pillow and myself.

I take a shuddering breath, closing my eyes and imagining Pinkie, Rainbow, Spike, Rarity, AJ, and Twilight in New York, without me.

For some reason, it still seems like a full picture. I can’t even imagine being missed.
So I sleep.

---

The click of the lock wakes me, as the man stands in the open doorway, his wiry frame covered by jeans and a loose shirt which seems almost designed to hide the gun he has tucked in his waistband. From normal human eye level, I would never be able to see it.

“It’s time to leave. Give me your arms.”

It takes me a moment to realize he means my forelegs, and I stick them out for him.
He ratchets a pair of handcuffs into place, tight enough that my inflexible hooves cannot slip back through. Then he padlocks a heavy chain to them.

“Come.”

I obey him, shuffling on my hind legs, using my wings to keep balance as he pulls me along towards the car, like a disobedient pet.

I take a moment to look around, and I realize that the dirty home we had been in is abandoned. Like so many houses you see in large cities these days, it sits empty and has its back to an alleyway. The only other houses I can see are either abandoned or walled off by tall cinderblock barriers.

No wonder no one found us.

He leads me to the now open trunk of the car, which I can see is a fairly new sedan, silver and well beyond the purchasing power of such a classic thug. Then again, stealing a car would not be beyond him, I would guess.
It’s a bleak feeling, to be chained to a spare tire twice your size, all the while counting the ways your captor has succeeded in hiding you away.
I also notice the pile of clothes that were roughly tossed out of the bag I had been in, and lay down on them in the trunk of the car, as he shuts it and starts the next leg of my abduction in motion.

I bounce uncomfortably as the car rolls through dirt roads and pothole infested suburbs for hours, losing track of the turns and the stops.
I give up on blaming myself, and I start to feel something I rarely feel. I start to feel angry.
However, I am at a complete loss as to what I could do with that anger, so I let it drift to the back of my mind for now.
Around noon, for all I can tell, the car stops and the engine cuts out. The trunk is opened by that massive man, and he removes the spare tire from the trunk. I do my best to fly alongside it, as he seems to enjoy the moments when I get flustered, falling over or tripping on the chain.

He sets the spare tire down by the side of the road and stares at me.

I stare back.

“Can I write a note to my family? To be buried with me?” I ask, voice wavering.

For the first time he seems genuinely confused, before shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, pony. It’s lunch time.”

He gestures to the vegetation growing along the dirt road, as he pulls a cheeseburger out of a bag in the passenger seat, devouring it while watching me curiously.

For a moment I consider refusing, but I have to be honest to myself and admit that I have survived off of natural greenery before. It wasn’t that bad, and it can’t be that bad here, right?
I carefully select the tenderest looking stalks of grass and make a little pile on my hoof, before eating them, chewing slowly.

Besides having a metallic aftertaste, and a bit too little water in them, I can’t say they are all that bad. Certainly better than some things I have seen Sweetie Belle cook.
But then I notice the man is laughing, covering his mouth as he watches me.

“Hey, I didn’t actually expect you to do that, you are funny as hell.”

He then tosses me a bag with two fast food side salads inside.

While I eat the salads, embarrassed more than upset with the situation, I wonder what it says about me that I was so willing to be degraded, I imagine that only the bit of me that was human was really repulsed by it, by the symbolism of being forced to eat weeds.
At least it saved energy and money. Talk about living off the grid.
Once I finish the salads and put the plastic clamshells into the bag, I spend a moment taking a look around to see where we are this time.

We are in the middle of nowhere. I cannot see a single building for miles in any direction, and the dirt road we are on seems to go on into the distance forever.

I shiver a little, looking up at the sky, at the slowly drifting clouds. If only somepony was about to swoop out of them and save me. If only I could be that lucky.

Comments

[Ditz]

Funny how I don't feel sorry for her. I am, however, curious as to what this strange man has in plan for her.

[Pinklestia]

Fluttershy, you are stronger than this!

[Funky Pony]

Talk about living off the grid.

That is smart thinking.

If only somepony was about to swoop out of them and save me. If only I could be that lucky.

RD is coming in for the rescue. I'm calling it.