A Room

You woke up on a cold, cement floor, with no memory of how You got there.

The room is lit up by a single dimly lit light bulb, making your vision limited. There is a slight breeze coming in through somewhere you cannot see, maybe a way out?

You Don't Remember your name, so lets call you Number 73, that sounded right for some odd reason.

Number 73 sat on you'r haunches and looked around, to try to observe your surroundings again, but to no avail.

Number 73 was confused, and gave a confused/aggravated look as he stared at the cold, what felt to be cement, ground.

  Number 73 looked back up at the only source of light in the room, and got to his hooves, because he is a pony, and the one thing that is certain about ponies, is that they have hooves.

Now, Number 73 was not always the sharpest tool in the shed, but he did damn well under pressure, and that made him the pony he is today, that is, if he could remember the pony he was today.

Number 73's memory problems weren't always a issue, if he could remember why it wasn't an issue, that would be great.

Number 73's eyes had adjusted to the dim light in the room, and he could now barely see what was around him.

He observed a Bed in the far side of the room, and what he thought to be a toothbrush on the ground.

Evidently, Number 73 hadn't brushed his teeth last night, or the night before, but that was based off of his memory, which in this particular case, was not being very useful at the time.

Number 73 Started to walk forward, not knowing what he was about to discover. The sound of dragging chains followed his every step, as he walked forward with ease. As he got to his tenth step, he was stopped. Not by another pony stopping him, not by a wall, but by a chain, tightly bound to his left hind leg. Now Number 73 was not fond of chains, neither was he a fan of being restrained to a walls of any kind.

Number 73 pulled at the restraints with a look of discomfort on his face.

Now Number 73 did not mind restraints, a matter of fact was that he quite enjoyed being restrained, it gave him a feeling of confinement, and Number 73 does so love the feeling of being retained, other ponies might call it a fetish, but he calls it a hobby.

In this case, Number 73 did not want to be restrained, but still got a small sense of pleasure from the feeling of being held back. This was now making Number 73 conflicted, he did not want to be restrained, but he did want to be restrained at the same time, he would need to make up his mind soon, for what was to come would require him to be unrestrained.

Number 73 trailed the chain back to where it started, which happened to attach to the wall to his close left. The chain that was attached to the certain grew wall, looked like it was rusting a bit in one place, so Number 73 took his chances and stomped on the chain, breaking it off in the middle, leaving part of the chain still attached to him.

Number 73 was now free, relatively speaking. He was now able to roam through out the room he was confined to, which actually gave him a feeling of ecstasy, because he quite enjoyed small spaces. He roamed through out his confinement, only to find that there was in fact, a toothbrush and a bed in his room. Number 73 rubbed his chin with one hoof, and pondered why he would be in such a predicament.

But to no avail, could Number 73 remember anything about the moments prior to waking up