When your alarm goes off this morning, all you do is stare at it. Your mind instantly goes to work as your eyes try to make out the angry square box with weird numbers on it.

"Why?" you think to yourself. "Why is it morning? We just had morning yesterday. Why does it have to be today too? It's not fair."

You swat at the box until it stops making noise, except it doesn't. Instead, it falls on the ground and continues to scream like someone pulled the fire alarm of a small ant farm. With a groan, you rise out of bed, silence the alarm, and set it back on your nightstand.

Then, you stop, and look longingly back at your bed. It would be so easy to undo the covers and just slip back inside those warm sheets. Nobody notice if you just took one day off right? Or a week? Or a month? It's not like ponies pay attention or anything.

But, you realize that you're a 'grownup' with 'responsibilities'. So, you turn on a dime and head out of your bedroom.

You go into the bathroom and go through your normal daily ritual. You take a shower. You take your pills and vitamins. You take a spicy dump. You stare into the mirror and wonder what you did in life to deserve living in a world of candy-colored horses, and then shave. You toss on some clothes and head downstairs when you hear three gentle knocks on the door.

Dang man, you didn't even get to make breakfast. You must have stood in the shower too long, letting the warm water roll over you as you ponder if there was a smart way to use up the rest of that dijon musturd in the fridge before it went bad. You head to the door, open it wide, then slam it shut.

"No. No fucking way. There is no fucking way I'm handling this today," you say to yourself.

You turn, trying to burn the mental picture of what you saw on the other side out of your mind.

"I'm not going away until we do this, Anon!" Fluttershy calls from the otherside of the door.

"No! Just, no to all of the above. I'm not going to dignify this."

"Any fetish you refuse to directly answer to my face is an attempt to hide your hugely erect monkey dick!"

"You're just making that up!" you scream back at her. "There's NOTHING SEXY about what you're doing. This is NOT OKAY."

"Come on, Anon. This is going to be requested for forever until you finally just do it."

"Okay, but if we're going to do this. We can't make light of the fact that this shit needs to be properly discussed. This shit is sensitive."

"I agree," Fluttershy says aloud. "We need some sort of proper disclaimer saying that this isn't something that we're shaming."

"Nah, that's fucking stupid," you say, walking up to the door and tossing it open.

There, on the other side of the door, is a yellow pony that you recognize as Fluttershy, but in a hideous new form that you can only hope you will never see again. Your eye first moves to the light blue cap, similar to that of a lunchlady cap, but much more soft, made of a soft cloth, and has little ducks on it. Then, your eyes move down to the pacifier that she suckles in her mouth. Then your eyes move down to the rattle in her hoof, then to the diaper she wears. You instantly grab your nose, fearing the worst.

"Okay," you say, your voice squeaky from holding your nose. "Let's unpack this quickly, before I say something mean."

"Are diapers your fetish?" she asks.

"No."

"Is ABDL your fetish?"

"No."

"Is changing diapers, scat play, or urine play your fetish?"

"No, I think we covered those."

"How about extreme age roleplay?"

"Not in the slightest."

"How about toddler-con?"

"Not even a little bit."

"How about if our roles were switched and you were the baby for all of the above?"

"I might actually throw up. Are we done?"

"Last but not least, how about baby talking?"

"Okay," you yell to the world. "That's it! We're DONE HERE! NO! We're done. NOT ANY OF THOSE, IN ANY VARIATION, OR ANYTHING HAVING TO DO WITH BABIES OR CHILDREN."

"Including birthing and pregnancy?" Fluttershy asks.

"YES"

"How about unbirthing?"

At that point, you feel a small tickle in the back of your throat. Before you can stop it, a massive torrent of acidic bile pushes up your throat and forces itself out. Fluttershy's eyes grow wide in horror as a putrid-green torrent collides with her face, then drips down her body.

"Wow, Anon," Fluttershy says. "That's so insensitive. You realize that these are real fetishes that people have in order to relieve stress and try to find some sort of normal in their lives."

"Yeah but," you say, closing the door. "Their kink is not my kink. I said no. Please let it stay there."

You close the door, and decide that today is not a day for doing. Today is not meant to be done. That is to say, you head back upstairs, close your bedroom door, shut the blinds, then roll back into bed to hibernate.

Author's Notes:

Every Fetish in this Chapter was a request.