Zipp always knew she was going to be in for a rough morning when she woke to the sounds of Pipp being awake. The singing that she heard echoing up from the floor below was too rambling and unspecific to be one of her sister’s recorded songs that had been left to play overnight, so it had to be her actually awake. This could only mean one of two things: Pipp Petals had gone to sleep and woken up early like a responsible mare, or her livestream had carried her awake all the way through the night and into the morning. The latter was far more plausible, and it would also quite possibly mean that she was hopped up on caffeine.
A heavy sigh huffed through Zipp’s nostrils and she laboriously began to stir. The blankets shifted over her in tall slopes like cresting waves as she twisted her hooves over the side of the mattress and pushed into a sitting posture. A low grunt escaped her—moments like these presented the rare occasion in which she struggled with bearing herself, strength inhibited by drowsiness. She yawned next while stretching out, extending her legs and raising her arms over her head and furling her wings out behind. The aches and pains did not bother her so much, as they were a reminder that she was alive, especially the faint tingling of magical power which she felt bristling through her feathers, a sensation which made every waking moment worth savoring.
She tried not to think about how only the tips of her hooves brushed against the floor before she sidled off of the mattress.
There were heavy thumps across the floor as Zipp Storm lumbered over to her dresser to fetch some clothes for the day. Some days she woke up and was momentarily confused by her environment, having been so used to living in a palace in Zephyr Heights all her life, used to huge halls and ornate decorations. Her room in the Brighthouse was so much smaller than her old bedroom, with its lavish decadence foisted upon her by her doting mother. She didn’t mind that though, not in the slightest; she preferred the coziness. To say nothing of being closer to all of her new friends.
Even if it also meant that her proximity to her sister was even closer than ever on most days, and it felt even more so while Sunny, Hitch, and Izzy were still on their trip to Bridlewood.
“It would have to be today that she chose to be up early,” she muttered under her breath while she finished shimmying a tank top and sweat pants over herself. She spared only a moment to check her reflection in the mirror over the vanity she never used—her work desk was the only one she needed—combing one hand along the lick of streaked magenta hair that comprised her mane. “Going to have to face the music sooner or later.”
Zipp left her room at a lively trot. She made no attempt to turn and follow the path along the balcony overlooking the open atrium that made up the first floor of the building. Her wings flapped once, assisting her with her jump up onto the protective banister, then unfurled as she leapt over the edge and soared. The faint tingling which she had felt before was now a coursing surge of power across her wings, billowing in her chest as she breathed, and now with fresh adrenaline pumping through her she felt truly awake. There had been times that she worried, in the years before Sunny Starscout came into her life, that the lack of magic wasn’t the only thing preventing her from flying, that her body simply wouldn’t be equipped for it. She thanked the alicorns that this turned out not to be the case, that pegasus magic was more than enough to keep her airborne.
Her hair and feathers and clothes rippled as she began her descent to the floor, a grin spreading across her muzzle. She performed a midair somersault, partly for the sake of flashiness, showing off to whatever imaginary audience she might have, but also to get a good look at the floor beneath her, making sure that there wouldn’t be anything in the way of her landing. Her velocity was carefully controlled, keeping her within safe parameters, though where was the fun in merely being safe? She kept her wings angled to catch the air only partially, so that when she landed it was with a loud THOOM that shook the floor. Her knees bent, coiling like springs, and she felt the inertia on her, nearly sending her falling over, but she managed to stay on her hooves.
She was met with a whistling call. “Wow, Zipp, now that was a landing!” Pipp’s cheering voice rang toward her from across the room.
Zipp looked up and saw the other pegasus standing by the counters of the kitchenette. She was also tapping at her phone. “Please don’t tell me you recorded that and are already posting it to Ponygram.”
“Pff, no, of course not,” she scoffed in turn with a snort of laughter, “that’s where I post photos. Videos go up on ClipTrot.”
Zipp slapped a palm to her face. “How’d you even know to take a recording of me?”
“Oh, Zipp, you know I’m an expert at this, you’ve gotta have quick reflexes when you’re in this business. You never know when there could be a viral hit just waiting to be shot.” Pipp smirked while holding up the plastic rectangle in front of her and panning about the room before shifting down to focus on her sister again. “Actually though I didn’t even need to worry about that,” she then admitted with a giggle, “I could hear when you got up. You make a lot of noise when you’re stomping around, you know.”
“Ah.” Zipp huffed exasperatedly. “Right.”
With the rush of adrenaline over and the wind let out of her sails, she walked the rest of the way into the kitchen space with far less aplomb—walking or even running simply wasn’t as enjoyable as flying, which had probably contributed to why she never attempted to leave Zephyr Heights earlier in her life. She tried to focus on her tasks at hand, the reasons that she had woken up in the first place, especially since her flight had used up what little energy reserves she’d had. She tried not to give Pipp any further attention for the time being. She tried not to look up.
The pale pegasus pursed her lips while she leaned over to reach for one of the kitchen cabinets. There was only some solace to be had in that this step of the process was less strenuous for her than many other ponies. More difficult was actually positioning herself in such a way that she could get her hand to the drawer and get it open; it had to be an arrangement in which she could reach around herself while also not standing in the way. The panel nestled into a narrow crook along her side and she leaned in to take out her boxes of cereal (shaking them reflexively to make sure they hadn’t been emptied without her knowledge) which were then deposited upon the center counter.
Of course, she’d had to do much the same procedure as this when interacting with her dresser just minutes ago, the cumbersome process of sidling up beside furniture. There was a great deal more apprehension to be had, however, when in a public space, where somepony might be watching her. Especially when that somepony was her sister. Pipp had yet to say anything else to her, and she chose not to investigate those circumstances, not to pursue that which she had no desire to be involved with. If she didn’t see the phone that was in all likelihood trained on her, she could pretend it didn’t exist.
Getting the milk from the refrigerator was a similar process, though at least the doors and handles were higher up. Zipp leaned forward to pull the panels open and welcomed the cool air that came wafting over her, pressing upon her chest. The milk carton had been left a little farther into the shelves than she’d like but she was able to retrieve it without much difficulty.
The cabinet which contained the utensils was just the right height for her to reach out to the side and extract a spoon without her hip getting in the way.
But getting a bowl was always the hardest part. Zipp’s neck craned up toward the cabinets suspended over the countertop, and she exhaled a hot huff of air from her nostrils. She spread her wings again and—
“You know we got you a stepping stool for this,” Pipp commented, her amused smirk audible in her tone.
Zipp scowled to herself. The stool in question was collecting dust in a closet, buried beneath Izzy’s art supplies. “I don’t need that when I have these.” She flapped her wings emphatically before once again spreading them to their full span, a cape of white and violet and cerulean, in the same way that a pony (such as Zipp herself) might flex their arms to show off their biceps.
Pipp only chuckled.
Without any further interruptions, Zipp performed another flight-assisted jump and then proceeded to hover in the air. Her powerful wings sent gusts of air which buffeted through the kitchen, but she wouldn’t need to maintain this for long. Reaching from the side was not an option like this; she had to bend and twist forward in order to get her hands on the cupboard. Amid the stacks of dishware, there was one bowl that was set by itself, done to make it more convenient for her to remove—having to take one from out of a stack would have just been another complication to add to the pile, risking the whole tower toppling over.
Now that she had all the implements and ingredients she needed, Zipp was finally able to settle down to eat. After one more little hop. The stools that stood around the counter all had rather broad seats to accommodate ponies with sizable hindquarters, though their height was less accommodating. It presented a bizarre dichotomy of making her feel all the more like a filly even while her chest pressed into the hard edge of the counter in front of her and her rear mashed against the back of the seat.
While she poured her milk and cereal, Pipp asked “So what’s on Zipp Storm’s agenda for today?” The other pegasus was leaning forward, effortlessly clearing the countertop, her own chest serving as cushions to prop her elbows upon while she held up her phone, camera trained upon the mare on the opposite side of the table. Zipp wondered if she was also using it as a shield, a ploy to obscure her face as much as possible. The glittery dark plum makeup that Pipp was wearing did a serviceable job of hiding the bags around her eyes. Definitely an all-nighter stream, then.
“The usual,” she grunted back. Once her bowl was full, she picked it up from the counter and held it over her bosom. It might have meant that there was more of a risk of making a mess of herself, but that was more likely if she were to try ferrying the spoon to her mouth over and over again. All she had to do was be careful, and she’d had a lot of practice with this. She swallowed a spoonful of rough wheat and oats, only slightly moistened at this point from being submerged in milk—not exactly the tastiest food one could have for breakfast, but she wasn’t eating this for its taste.
“Ooh, intriguing!” Pipp chirped, and her own wings, pink and fluffy, fluttered. She leaned closer still, getting her phone right up in Zipp’s face. “Can we expect another day of Detective Storm hot on the case, sussing out the mysteries of Equestria? Unraveling the enigma of the new magic which has come into our lives? Uncovering the identities of the nefarious figures who threaten our very existences?!”
Zipp kept eating with a stony straight face. “You know those investigations are supposed to be confidential,” she muttered plainly.
“Come on, you know I’d never be so careless that I’d leak highly secretive information like that,” Pipp scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.
One of Zipp’s eyebrows quirked upward.
“I’m just recording this for posterity, you know,” she insisted while tapping at the screen, “just like you do all the time when you’re talking to yourself.”
“Those are personal memos, Pipp,” Zipp replied, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what these are, memos. Except I can put filters on them.” Another few taps and then she cooed to herself. “Ooh, that fade looks real nice on you.”
With a sigh, Zipp returned to finishing her cereal. It was better than thinking about how her investigations into the magic of Equestria and the ominous threat which lay on the horizon were at a standstill at the moment. More than a few times she had wished that her friends would show just a tad more initiative in looking into these matters alongside her. She lifted the bowl to her snout and tilted it back, slurping up the last of the milk.
“If you really need to keep tabs on me that much,” she said while she hopped back down from the seat and went about putting everything away. Normally she would hand-clean her bowl and spoon, but on a day like this she was more interested in getting on her business as quickly as possible, so she just put them in the dishwasher. “I’ve got my daily exercise regimen to go on, and then I’m going to fly a few laps around the bay.” She stretched her arms and legs out once again. “Figure that should be enough to keep me busy until lunch time.”
“Lunch?” Pipp’s eyes flicked slightly, looking toward the time display on her phone’s screen. “Isn’t that really far away? It’s not even eight now.”
“Yup!” In that moment Zipp had the confidence that she needed to look up at the other mare towering over her and flash a toothy smirk. “Got a looootta lifting to do, you know; this sweet bod can’t maintain itself if I spend all day sitting around.” She planted her hands on her hips and pushed out her chest.
“Yeah, I…guess that makes sense, that there’s, uh…a lot of…work involved,” Pipp replied, visibly unsteadied. When she wasn’t maintaining a posture that showed off the statuesque shapeliness of her figure, she seemed so fragile and unwieldy, a tower that was poised to fall over. She allowed the phone to slip to the side, removing one layer of separation between them (her bosom still posed a considerable obstruction) so that they could regard each other more clearly. “But maybe…” She put on a hopeful smile, beaming face framed by her amethyst mane, and for as simple a gesture as it was, there was a more genuine kind of beauty in that expression than there was for any of her streams or performances. “I could still tag along…if you don’t mind?”
The pale pegasus stared at her, squinting in disbelief, almost finding herself contemplating the idea that somepony was masquerading as her sister. She would usually be loath to do so, but she let her gaze flick downward, just momentarily, to inspect the other mare’s body. It seemed too real to think that she could be dealing with some kind of fake, for better or worse. She was certainly already feeling the usual sensation of inadequacy welling up within her, the immune system of her unconscious self-esteem automatically rising in turn to quash it back down.
Zipp Storm liked to believe that she wasn’t that short. It was harder to believe that while in the presence of Pipp Petals, who was tall even compared to the average pony. Despite being the younger of the two siblings, Pipp had continued to grow taller over the years while Zipp seemed to stall out early on in her adolescence. At least it could be said that they had each been gifted in their own way with the endowments of the royal family. Whenever Zipp found herself envying Pipp for the supermodel physique that had been instrumental in her rise to stardom, she could at least take solace in her own broad and sturdy frame, powerful and no less curvaceous.
“And it’s not just so you can get me on camera for some extra views?” Zipp asked while crossing her arms over her expansive chest.
“Well, you know, maybe a little,” Pipp admitted with a bashful smile, caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. “What can I say? The fans love you, Miss Storm. You’ve got a following all your own.”
“Don’t I know it.” Zipp sighed and shook her head but still smiled wryly. It was never exactly pleasing to her whenever she checked Pipp’s various social media feeds and saw a new recording of her, usually taken out of context. She felt a meager sense of validation, though, whenever she saw how those appearances tended to draw in a lot more viewer engagement than average. A Pipp Petals stream VOD might have radically more views than average for no reason other than a clip of Zipp barging into the room to ask what pizza toppings she wanted. It wasn’t uncommon for Pipp to try cajoling her sister into doing a fuller collaboration, but suffice to say she generally wasn’t interested. Maybe that was ultimately what today’s endeavor was all about too, yet Zipp felt like this time she’d be able to turn it around in her favor. Or maybe she simply thought it would be better to play along with her sister for once rather than stonewall her.
“So your fans really want to see what the Zipp Storm experience is like, huh?” she finally said, and she started to saunter in an arc around Pipp, orbiting her. “Alright, we can see about that.”
“Wh- really, you mean—!”
Zipp cut off Pipp by clapping a hand against the small of her back. Standing this close, the other pegasus towered over her, and it took precise positioning to get close enough to reach for her while not pressing together. “Make sure you don’t fall behind now,” she added in a jeering whisper, “I know how important it is for you to tap into the secret of my popularity, and I’m going to see you sweat for those likes.”
There was already sweat on Pipp’s brow as she smiled nervously. “…W-well…if it’s with you, then…I’m sure I can do it!”
Zipp smirked back. “That’s the spirit.”
“Hang on, though.” Now Pipp reached back to place a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “We gotta start this off on the right hoof!”
She then held up her phone over them, poised for a selfie. Zipp tensed up semi-unconsciously. Whether she noticed this or not, Pipp appeared to reconsider, and she knelt lower, bringing the two of them closer to each other, bosoms and hips touching. The phone’s screen, oriented horizontally, showed their faces and an expanse of cleavage under each of them. Pipp was still higher up, but Zipp was clearly winning the battle of their breasts vying for space. She found that she didn’t mind flashing a full smile as Pipp took the picture.
Maybe this morning wasn’t going to be so rough after all.
Author's Note
This had been a prompt simply about the concept of a shortstack going about their routine, and amidst multiple possibilities for characters to use I decided to settle on Zipp and Pipp, so this is my first time writing G5 content.
The way things ended up progressing, I ended up not really going for any concrete physical descriptions, so you're free to imagine just how stacked these characters are.
I don't understand the interior layout of the brighthouse at all.
This story was a prompt suggested and voted for by my supporters on Patreon. Consider pledging your support if you enjoy my work and would be interested in participating in these selections in the future.
I also have a Ko-Fi for one-time donations.
Zipp was accustomed to the sound of her own strained grunts while she was pumping iron. It wasn’t a particularly dignified noise for one to make, but she knew that it was simply a part of the process, a sign that she was making progress toward her desired goal.
She was less used to the hoarse, gasping breaths and the whimpers and the sobs that were presently in the background.
The brighthouse exercise room had originally been Hitch’s idea, and Zipp had wholeheartedly agreed to it, since staying physically active was vitally important to both of them. She was only slightly disappointed that the space wasn’t quite as expansive as the royal guard barracks gym back in Zephyr Heights in the end, but alas their budget could only go so far. Sunny also came in on occasion to keep herself healthy and in shape. Even Izzy would visit every now and then, though she practiced her magical capacity for lifting weights more than physical. Zipp was fairly certain that Pipp had never once set hoof in the room since it had been furnished, and now she was reaping the rewards for her idleness (or idolness, even).
The pink pegasus was perched on a bicycle machine across from Zipp, and she no longer looked nearly as confident as she had when she started pedaling. Her posture drooped, slumping forward, her face was haggard, jaw hanging agape as she huffed for breath, and she was scarcely managing to continue the motions of pumping her legs up and down. Unlike her sister, she didn’t have a dedicated set of exercise clothes, so she’d pulled out a random pair of shorts and blouse, and Zipp hoped for her sake that they hadn’t been designer because they were now thoroughly dampened with sweat, the cloth clinging to her form. The makeup she’d applied earlier was running over her cheeks and her normally carefully styled mane was hanging in stringy tangles. It wasn’t a great look for her followers, who would eventually be seeing the recording from her phone, currently set up on the machine’s center console. They probably wouldn’t mind too much, though, given the view of her breasts hanging heavily from her chest and swaying about with her motions.
“Zipp…” Pipp croaked wearily, “am I…done…yet?”
Zipp eased her weights back and reached for her own phone, which was standing on a stool set up in front of her. She looked at the time and pursed her lips. “Pipp,” she muttered flatly, “you’ve only been going for a minute.”
“Whaaaaa?” she cried, the question more like a prolonged, exasperated exhale.
“Come on, I know you can do better than this,” the older mare asserted gently, “try for five minutes and then we’ll see about negotiating.”
Pipp collapsed forward, and she might have faceplanted on the machine console if her bosom didn’t get in the way. The pliant flesh muffled the prolonged, anguished groan that rose from within her. Impressively, though, she managed to continue weakly pedaling with her ass pointed out behind her.
Zipp sighed and shook her head before returning to her reps, tensing through her arms and thorax as she pulled on the machine’s handles. With her diminutive stature, she might have looked almost like a filly nestled within the hulking arms of the butterfly press, were it not for her muscles and burgeoning assets. Her rump overflowed the skinny seat in the center of the assemblage, and when she brought the arms forward they creased into the sides of her breasts. She had already started by the time Pipp finished preparing herself, after much hemming and hawing over what she’d want to do first, and she could feel the sweat dampening her fur and clothes as well.
What really made this exercise session different—aside from the sounds of her sister’s struggle in the background—was the phone set up in front of her, recording her actions. They had come to the agreement that it would be for the best if they each made their recordings separately this time, as opposed to Pipp filming Zipp for her. Zipp had to admit that there’d been some apprehension at first, but now, after getting into her routine, she found it tantalizing to imagine other ponies watching her at work. Tensing. Squeezing. Pumping.
She could get used to this, perhaps.
Author's Note
The nature of how I'm trying to do these made it kind of difficult to do more than just the breakfast scene, so to make up for that a bit I did an extra miniscene showing some of the exercise shenanigans.
This story was a prompt suggested and voted for by my supporters on Patreon. Consider pledging your support if you enjoy my work and would be interested in participating in these selections in the future.
I also have a Ko-Fi for one-time donations.
