Two Mugfuls of Cider Before Bed
“Ugh, Zipp! Don’t touch my phone,” Pipp said with a groggy moan as she shifted in her sleep, her hoof moving up to cover her eyes as sunlight burst through the windows of the Crystal Brighthouse.
Last night, Pipp had drifted to sleep wrapped in the cozy cocoon of her comforter with a belly full of spiced apple cider. A mugful or two before bed usually helped with the pre-concert jitters, especially when adorned with a dollop of whipped cream sprinkled in cinnamon and nutmeg. Unfortunately, nutmeg had been nowhere to be found. Hours into her rest, the incomplete treat was gurgling inside her tummy like a manticore’s roar.
Pipp’s hind leg slipped out of the warm safety of the blankets, venturing into the chilly air of the open bedroom. In the swirling dreamscape, she watched Zipp teasingly toss her golden phone to Izzy. Izzy caught it and immediately laughed at what she saw on the screen.
“Izzy, no!” Pipp moaned as she rolled over onto her side. She saw an orange pony blur into her vision. Sunny took the phone back from Izzy and scolded her disapprovingly. Sunny was a pony Pipp didn’t mind touching her phone. Sunny was nice. She could touch Pipp’s phone anytime. Good Sunny.
Pipp smiled as her leg retreated back into the warmth and she squeezed her thighs together. Happy thoughts led to a gentle laughter that reverberated, growing louder and louder.
Suddenly Pipp was surrounded by Pippsqueaks. Leagues of Pippsqueaks laughing and pointing at her as the teeter of circus music played. What was happening? Did she slip up? Sing a wrong note?
Pipp felt something dropped onto her chest and the nightmare ended abruptly.
“Surprise breakfast in bed!” Sunny called out.
“Nnn, Sunny.” Pipp groaned. Her lips smacked together involuntarily. The scent of citrus wafted into her nostrils. Her eyes opened to a platter of fresh fruit placed on top of her blanket with Sunny looking down on her.
“Happy Triple Treat Trifecta day!” Sunny said.
“Aww, Sunny! You totally didn’t need to wake up early just for me.” Pipp looked over the spread of fruit carefully sliced into rows, each garnished with a sprinkle of hazelnuts. She plucked a pineapple and brought it to her mouth. “Mmm! It’s got nutmeg on it!” Pipp said.
“I had to get some after your freak-out last night.” Sunny laughed.
“You know how to start a hype day, don’t you?” Sunny had even left her a smoothie on the nightstand.
“I’m really glad you like it. The whole thing is themed with Maretime Bay pineapple, strawberries from Zephyr Heights, and the Hazelnuts of Bridlewood.”
Pipp’s eyes lit up. Sunny had made something to represent each of the three venues she’d be singing at today. “Sunny, you’re a genius!”
“Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Zipp yelled from her bed.
Of course Zipp was up at this ridiculously early hour. “Mmm,” Pipp slurped the tray clean with a less-than-princessy lick.
“You ate that fast!” Sunny said.
“Sorry, I'm just hyped for today’s wild rush,” Pipp said as she reached down for the smoothie. It was Strawberry Ripple with added honey—her addiction ever since Hitch befriended a bunch pegabees. “And it’s hard to help when everything tastes so good. Mmm…” Pipp had already swallowed half of it down when she reached for her phone.
Hmph. It was off the charging mat. That wasn’t how she left it last night. She tapped the screen and it lit up with the time. Pipp spat smoothie. “Why is it 6:15? Did you turn off my alarm!?”
“Oh, I figured I was already up and-” Sunny said.
“Sunny!” Pipp's eyes widened, panic bubbling up inside of her.
“Sorry, Pipp.” Sunny looked down at the floor. “The time kind of got away from me with the nutmeg and the slicing, and-”
“The first concert starts in like an hour!” Pipp tossed off her blankets and jumped out of bed. She entered full-on freak-out mode. Her planned 5:00 AM start time was already going to be cutting it close. At this point she’d have to skip her morning yoga altogether and forget about any last-minute practice.
Pipp’s hooves clacked all the way to the bathroom before her comforter hit the floor.
* * *
While the Crystal Brighthouse was smaller and less impressive than the castle Pipp had grown up in, it did have one special feature that stood out: the urinal. Anypony who stepped hoof onto the cozy tiled floor of the bathroom would immediately notice the magnificent crystal flower in the center of the room with its petals nested in a tightly-closed bloom. Pipp trotted toward it and a petal lowered. Pipp felt the creamy cider ballooning in her bladder. The petal’s polished crystal groove beckoned out to her, promising to carry her release safely down into the mouth of its flower.
But she didn’t have time to position herself and squat. She had to get to Mane Melody ASAP. She raced past the crystal bloom and into the spacious shower, flicking on two of the five shower heads before placing her phone down on the counter. Pipp stepped in and the hot water cascaded over her back. The soothing stream massage her muscles, releasing the tension from the night before. Before getting her mane wet, she removed her diadem and reached out of the shower and placed it on the towel rack. The water hit her scalp and she prepared for her atypical back to front routine. She started rubbing the first course of body wash around her hind legs and thighs before pausing, remembering the growing pressure in her bladder.
Pipp peed in the shower. At least on the mornings she needed to save time. The extra mug of cider last night had her anticipating a more satisfying release than usual. Her first pee of the day was always a richer yellow and far more pungent. The silver drain caught her eyes but it seemed like a waste, even on a day she was running late.
Discretely peeing on her older sister had been Pipp’s source of rebellion since her foalhood bath times. On days when everypony was getting ready at the same time, she would position herself near Zipp as she peed, using the flowing water as cover. She had never been caught, not even in more recent times when she’d pee right onto Zipp’s cutie mark. She loved how it ran down Zipp's thigh and she’d snicker when Zipp turned around and lathered up with it.
Pipp chided herself. All the sketchy daydreaming was making the time go by with little progress and she was alone anyway.
On days she showered alone, Pipp liked to aim her pee at the bottle of Zipp’s bottle of 7-in-one mystery junk. Body wash, shampoo, conditioner, hair gel, shaving cream, toothpaste, and mouthwash. The bottle was always in a different place every morning which made it a fun game. After months of practice, she could easily flick up her tail, pull at her labia, and score a direct hit.
Today the bottle sat on the highest shelf on the other side of the shower where the water wasn’t even flowing. That always made it a little risky if other ponies were awake. Pipp turned her hindquarters toward Zipp’s bottle and spread her legs apart. She wasn’t going to activate the showerhead on the other side of the shower just yet. She wanted to savor the moment, curious to see if it would fill the shower with the scent of apples. The pressure built up inside her bladder was its most pleasant moments from the release. It even made her pony parts all twitchy. What if somepony caught her?
As Pipp flicked her tail aside and stretched toward her hindquarters, she saw it. There was a hair. A little curled purple hair poking out from the usually smooth skin of her vulva. She had forgotten to move up her waxing appointment!
Of all the things to forget on a day she was running late. Oh well. She just hoped Jazz can work her magic in time. Pipp leaned into the perfect aiming position, spreading her (apparently slightly hairy) pussy until her peehole was exposed. She closed her eyes and began to relax her bladder muscles.
“Hey, Pipp!” The bathroom door flew open. “Any way I can speed things up for you?” Sunny said.
Pipp jumped and knocked over thirty shampoo bottles. “Ah, Sunny!”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sunny said.
“Sorry, I’m just—running out of time,” Pipp said as she dug through the bottles rolling away on the slick shower floor.
Sunny approached the crystal flower urinal and a petal lowered itself for her. “Well, if there’s anything you can think of that I can help you with, just let me know.”
Pipp was almost mad. Almost ready to blow. But she realized that her pissy private performance was less important than the all the actual performances of the day. She needed to take a breath and reorient.
Pipp clenched her hind legs together as she turned over each bottle she had knocked down. She had to find the one-of-a-kind Bridlewood Bog Blend she had contacted to make her mane perfect for today.
Why did searching for things make ponies so hyper aware that they need to pee? If being interrupted hadn’t been bad enough, she now had to search while enduring the loud, sputtering fizz of Sunny peeing. It was like a faucet, the way Sunny controlled and varied the flow, obviously trying to be quiet, only to let out another long, agonizing release that sizzled loudly. Maybe Pipp was going to scream or at least rant a little.
“Sunny, do you know if anypony moved the special Bridlewood shampoo I SPECIFICALLY set up on my shelf?”
Sunny adjusted her aim, her arc of pee finally streaming into the flower’s mouth with minimal noise. “Didn’t you give it to Jazz or something?”
Pipp’s eyes lit up. “You’re right. Oh my glitter—my mane’s not even supposed to be wet yet!” Pipp had given Jazz the shampoo to hold over a week ago and had set up an appointment (which she was already 30 minutes late for). Pipp plucked her diadem off the hook then scrambled out of the shower with her soaked body dripping a watery trail all the way to the ground floor.
Pipp glanced at the clock before heading out the Brighthouse door, a small flicker of hope igniting in her chest. She still had a little time. She trotted down the path, past the community garden, with each hoofstep a tiny earthquake against her bursting bladder. Her head pounded with desperation that actually buzzed in her ears. At this point, the juices from the fruit platter and the smoothie had already joined the party with the cider in her bladder. Every step she took could mean a very public accident. Oh gosh. What if it came out foamy? She could only imagine the headlines if ponies found out a princess had thick, foamy pee.
Peeing outside was absolutely not her style. She didn't even bring anything to wipe with. But she couldn't just hold it all the way to Mane Melody, especially with the pounding headache that only seemed to amplify the ringing in her ears. Pipp positioned herself by a bush, flicked her tail up, and finally prepared to release.
“Princess Pipp!” Three squeaky voices called out in unison.
If Sunny walking in on Pipp in the shower was a Sprout-in-a-warehouse level scare, her three favorite Pippsqueaks trotting right toward her, accompanied by five other ponies, each with their phones raised, was an Opaline level threat. An unplanned squirt of pee spritzed the leaves of the bush before Pipp slammed her hind legs together, cutting off the flow.
“Are you okay?” Glory said.
“Yeah, Pipp! What’s going on?” Peach Fizz said.
Pipp backed up defensively, her own under-tail peach fuzz fizzing with droplets of postponed pee. “W-why are you all here?”
Seashell caught up to her friends. “It’s the Pippmergency app! It said you're in trouble!”
Pipp pulled off her golden diadem and looked to the small blinking GPS that mirrored buzzing in her ears. It was the buzzing in her ears! Zipp wasn’t a tech genius. She was a tech moron. The app was only supposed to send an emergency signal to the Pippsqueaks if she ever got 300 hoofsteps away from her phone. And it was right here.
Or it was supposed to be here. "False alarm, everypony!" Pipp forced a bright smile, her voice ringing with a strained cheerfulness that masked her twisted insides. Somehow, putting on a happy face for a crowd actually made the pain in her bladder more manageable. “I just wanted to remind you all that there are only forty minutes left until the Maretime Bay concert! Time to get your hooves over to Mane Melody!”
“I thought it was supposed to be at 7:30 AM sharp” Glory said.
“You got it!” Pipp winked at the crowd.
“I know how to tell time! 7:04 to 7:30 is twenty-six minutes, not forty.” Seashell said.
“JUST GET TO MANE MELODY!” Pipp said in a totally happy, hopefully not too angry way as she vigorously flapped her wings and started to fly upward, begrudgingly turning back toward the Brighthouse.
“Pipp!” An equally angry and friendly voice called to her seconds into her flight. It was Zipp flying right toward her with the missing phone in hoof!
“You’re a life saver, Zipp!” Pipp said as she made a mental note to stop her secret shower shenanigans.
“Just take it!” Zipp said. “I’m going back to bed.” She passed it to Pipp then turned around, immediately shooting back toward the Brighthouse.
Sisters. Pipp laughed to herself, wondering if Misty would ever get this comfortable being a total paradox.
Pipp was flying. Really flying. Unfortunately for a pegasus who skips her wing exercises (for totally legit reasons of course) rigorous flying produces wingpit sweat. A lot of wingpit sweat.
Pipp powered through it as she flew over Maretime Bay. Way up there, an idea came to her. An idea that set her heart racing with a mix of relief and mischievous delight. She grinned, not with her usual stage-ready sparkle, but with the wild joy of a pony on the edge. She was actually going to do it. She was going to pee midair.
It hadn't even crossed her mind before that a pony could totally pee while flying. Just a year ago pegasi couldn’t even fly and now there she was, soaring above everypony and their prying eyes.
She could become a weathermare. A glamorous mare predicting a fruity downpour for everypony in town. The idea sounded so much more exciting than peeing on a bottle in the shower. The ponies below had already gathered in the town square, a colorful crowd of all ages and pony kinds making their way toward Mane Melody. Her tensed muscles were no longer the sign of painful desperation; instead it was the invigorating buildup to her tasty new trick.
As Pipp uncrossed her legs she felt a surge of giddy, wild energy. She was really about to bypass the bathroom break altogether and have fun whole doing it. There were so many ponies below. Ponies that she was going to pee on.
Pipp took a dive, her tail flapping rapidly in the wind as she stretched her hind legs, feeling the cool winter air against all the sticky, sweaty parts of her backside. She stuck her tongue out, enjoying the moment. At least until she realized she wasn’t peeing.
She tried to push it, force it out, but the flow wouldn’t start. Regardless if it was all the sweating, the heavy flapping, or just the pain in her bladder, it wasn’t happening. Come on! There were so many ponies below. Why was she experiencing stage fright when she’s NEVER shy? Maybe she just needed to find a pony who deserved a little pee shower.
In sheer coincidence she spotted Posey in the crowd below but the mare’s scowl causing a moment of clarity that made her come to a realization: It wasn’t right. The Triple Treat Trifecta was a celebration of unity, a day when ponies of every nation could share the joy of her music without having to travel far. No matter if they were pegasi, earth pony, or unicorn, regardless of where they chose to live, ponies were meant to live in harmony. Posey, of all ponies, needed to know that pegasi weren't rude enough to start a pee assault from above.
With newfound determination, Pipp tapped out a quick midair text as she crossed her legs and made the final push toward Mane Melody.
She landed at the alley near the back door, her fur soaked in sweat and her mane a frizzy mess.
* * *
“I’ve got Rocky on container duty.” Jazz said, guiding Pipp to a private chair, where the Bridlewood shampoo had already been prepared.
Pipp felt her cheeks flush knowing that Rocky now knew of her private biz. The nightmarish idea of piddling into a bowl in front of him could become her reality. But Jazz knew timing. If she didn’t think she'd get everything done without his help, she would trust her with her life—or embarrassing public urination in this case.
If Pipp delayed the first performance by even 10 minutes, she risked today’s third and final show in Zephyr Heights running past midnight, ruining the entire point of the Triple Treat Trifecta.
Jazz was silent and focused as she started shampooing Pipp’s mane, her hooves moving along with the bass of the pre-concert hype music pounding against the closed door. As she worked the suds through Pipp’s locks, she also sopped up Pipp's wingpit sweat with a spare towel. In less than five minutes, Pipp’s mane was styled and her body was mostly de-sweatified. A spritz of Potions By Pipp Instant Shower did most of the heavy lifting (though Pipp would admit it’s not a true replacement).
“Done,” Jazz said. “That leaves 10 minutes for a hooficure. I can make it.” Jazz said confidently, only to bite her lip as she pulled up Pipp’s chipped and muddy hooves.
“I forgot to mention.” Pipp said, her hind legs still clenched together and trembling. She leaned in to whisper. “I’m getting a little fuzzy down there.”
Jazz waved it off as she started to work on Pipp’s front hooves, removing the old polish with a low grit filer. “I’ll do a quick pluck.”
“I need a full wax,” Pipp protested. She loved to look her best in all the action shots on stage, and the stage lights easily lit up every little hair.
“It would be all swollen during the show!” Jazz protested, knowing she didn’t have time as she popped open the golden hoof polish.
“Ugh!” Pipp was ready to piss herself in frustration.
Jazz finished up the front hooves and quickly adjusted Pipp’s chair, raising the hoof rest until her hind legs were up in the air. “I need you uncrossed, Pipp.”
“I can’t, I’m gonna pee.” Pipp’s voice was strained as she started rock back and forth. Her bladder had grown from a little purple plum to the size of a pearnanamelon, all its juice included. Her tightened peehole was fighting as hard as it could to stop a leak.
“Look at me, Pipp.” Jazz said.
Pipp looked up at Jazz.
“You look gorgeous and you’re going to perform amazing. Did you do your voice exercises?”
Pipp’s eyes widened in terror.
Jazz facehoofed as her motivational speech crumbled instantly. How does a pop star forget her voice exercises on concert day? She grabbed a bottle of Potions by Pipp Voice Soother and pried open Pipp’s mouth. “Drink.”
“Are you serious right now?” Pipp felt some pee leak out as the grape flavor hit her tongue.
“Life-on-the-line serious,” Jazz said as she tilted the bottle and forced Pipp to drink it.
“WHERE THE HECK IS ROCKY WITH MY BOWL?” Pipp yelled in a gasp of gurgling grape air.
“Just pee on the floor!” Jazz forcefully spread Pipp’s legs. Surprisingly, no pee flowed but at this point Jazz’d happily accept a golden shower if it meant Pipp would stop complaining and let her do her job.
“I can hold it a little more,” Pipp said, trembling as she pressed her hoof to her crotch so the malleable folds of her labia acted as further reinforcement.
Jazz quickly ripped the hoof away and looked down. “Maybe I could do a quick wax.” It wasn’t because of the easily plucked little hairs poking out of Pipp’s plump lips, rather it was the sweat-laden garden of purple fur sprouting around the rounded muscle of her anus.
Pipp couldn’t stand it. She had to just let it go. She saw an opening as Jazz moved to turn on the nearby wax heater. Pipp started to pee, right onto the floor.
“Good girl.” Jazz’s praise was premature. The stream cut off as soon as it started. Oh well. It was time to work on Pipp’s back hooves. “I don’t mind if you want to just pee all over me,” Jazz said earnestly as she started to file.
Those words hit Pipp's ears with a strange power that made all the fuzz on her exposed parts stand up. Jazz was so focused on her back hooves, she couldn’t see the subtle twitching happening as Pipp considered the idea. Her legs were elevated and Jazz was right there in the line of fire. Could she really just let loose and pee on her? The way Jazz was turned, it’d probably splash against her neck.
Pipp broke into a small smile, imagining peeing on her friend, not caring how foamy, or smelly, or even fruity the experience would be for Jazz. What if she peed on her face by accident? What if she peed on her face on purpose? What if Jazz put her snout between Pipp's thighs as she peed? Would she lick it up and taste a little?
Pipp felt grossed out by her intrusive thoughts. Why was her diva-mind devolving? Pipp was positively pee crazy. Jazz had offered to let Pipp pee on her, not out of some freakish desire, but out of convenience and pity. She didn’t actually want Pipp to pee on her. Even worse, if Pipp did it, Jazz would have to miss the show and she’d have one less friend giving her the confidence she needed.
All Pipp’s machinations made the time pass in a blink. When she looked down to her hooves, they were already all polished to perfection and Jazz had the cup of melted wax in hoof, right above her crotch. Typically, Jazz would wax each area one part at a time with a thin layer of wax for a gentle removal of hair. This was not a typical appointment.
The hot wax spilled over Pipp’s perineum and she sprayed pee. It was only a little spurt; a little fruity, foamy spurt right onto Jazz’s belly.
Neither mare dared to comment as Jazz poured even more onto Pipp.
The hot wax had only been on her for a few seconds but it felt like it was baking her sweat, pee, and ‘juices’ into a musky Pipp Pie. “It’s so hot!” Pipp freaked out as she felt as if it was going to burn.
“Just another second.”
“Please!” Pipp said as it roasted her labia and kissed her butthole with a fiery lick.
“It’s cooling!” Jazz said.
“Please, Jazz! I can’t!” Pipp would have plastered pictures of her prickly parts to every pony in Equestria if she had known this was Jazz’s idea of an emergency wax.
“Now!” Jazz yelled as she ripped it off like a piece of duct tape.
It wasn’t the pain in her bladder, or even the sting of her most sensitive skin being pulled up like royal astroturf that made her scream. What made her scream was the quick release of a thick, heady piss that shot out like a hose directly toward the opening door. It washed over Rocky’s mane and ran down his chin before messily splattering into the bowl he had gripped in his jaw.
Pipp would have honestly been okay with that being the end of the saga. Her sitting there, peeing on Rocky, into his bowl, watching his nostrils flare up as she marked him with her scent. She would have been okay with the awkward fact that she had caused something surprisingly big to unfurl under his stomach, forever basking in the shame of giving him the feelings for the wrong pony in front of the right pony: the pretty hooficure expert that Pipp so desperately wanted him to notice. Heck, she would have even been okay with canceling all three concerts and rescheduling.
But that wasn’t the way it all played out.
Pipp did not actually all that much onto Rocky. What fell into the bowl was a few droplets of froth. Pipp’s bladder was still full as it ever was, with all the lost pee replaced and then some by the whole bottle of Voice Potion that Jazz had forced her to drink.
It was 7:31 AM and Pipp was late.
To get the obvious out of the way: yes, Pipp immediately headed to Mane Melody’s bathroom. And as expected, it was packed with concert goers with a line out the door with fillies squatting over the sinks, and moms holding up cups for colts. Even the private employee only bathroom was occupied—having already had its dividing wall taken down in preparation for the show. Of course the Pippsqueaks noticed Pipp’s peril but as the clock ticked on and on, Pipp knew that the start times and flight times would never match up even if she skipped the lines.
The paparazzi’s cameras flashed as Pipp squatted over a bowl in the corner by the massage tables. She cried, masking her tears with a forced smile. She even lifted up her tail for them, showing off her vulva which was still puffy and red from the waxing as if it was for a bold new trend. But she couldn’t actually pee.
* * *
At 7:36 AM Pipp took the stage. The curtains finally opened as the crowd cheered for a performance that might as well have been a HOOF talk featuring a live demonstration of a medical emergency.
We'll figure something out. It was the last thing Jazz had said before she went backstage. Jazz’s voice had at least some confidence that Pipp could cling to. Even in the worst-case scenario, Jazz would be around during this catastrophe. The show must go on—even if her bladder did not.
The stage lights blared blindingly bright, but Pipp barely registered them. All her attention was focused inward, on the agonizing balloon that was rearranging her organs. The squeals of the Pippsqueaks, usually a source of hype instead pierced her ears like a cacophony of impending doom. With phone in-hoof, Pipp opened the Stage Magic app and tapped on her predefined set. She took a shaky breath, her whole body quivering before the backing track for the first song kicked off, making her jump.
She had no choice but to belt out the first note, her body moving on pure muscle memory, wi every step, spin, and move another attempt to forget the pain. Entitled Besties got your Back, the song was her most recent single, admittedly not her best but serviceable. However she could only phone it in as she scanned the crowd. So much for besties. It wasn’t that she expected to see any of her friends—Izzy and Misty were in Bridlewood preparing for her next set, Zipp had to get enough sleep to pilot the Marestream for nine hours in one day, and Pipp didn’t expect Sunny and Hitch stick around for her self-inflicted nineteen-hour day—but it hurt not seeing Jazz and Rocky cheering her on.
However, one pony Pipp did notice among the fans was Nurse Yellowheart. Yellowheart always had a medical kit in her saddlebag, used for any bumps and scrapes ponies might get during the day-to-day fun of Maretime Bay. Could it possibly contain a catheter? Pipp had never needed one herself, but she could recall the night she had seen one for the first time.
It had been a night where her mom welcomed young Pipp to sleep by her side after a bad dream, all while the queen was facing a nightmare of her own. Pipp had pretended to be asleep when a strange stallion wearing a golden stethoscope flicked on the lights. She wasn’t able to follow their conversation, but she could see the way her mom was shaking as she touched her lower belly like she really needed to pee. The stallion pulled out a straw and rubbed slimy stuff all over it. Before Pipp knew what was happening, he slid it up inside her mom’s peehole. Pipp didn’t even know mares had a separate peehole! The stallion held up a pan as her mom peed, but closed her eyes in fear as the stallion pushed down onto her mom’s tummy. She heard her mom giggle like a filly as he squeezed it out of the straw like he was emptying a juice pouch. Pipp didn’t just hear it fill the bedpan, she smelled it fill the bedpan. It smelled just like the expensive grape juice her mom loved to drink. In her filly mind, she wondered if the stallion was just helping her get her money back.
The gross memory almost seemed pleasant now. A handsome knight sliding something into her peehole was everything she wanted right now. But a competent pony nurse was all she needed. A plan formed in her mind. It was a ridiculous and extremely desperate plan but a plan nonetheless.
As the first song ended, the crowd erupted into cheers. “Thank you everypony!” Pipp said, her voice a little too loud, a little too manic. "Hope you're loving the morning buzz! I know I am.” She took a deep breath. “For my next song, I need a little volunteer to come up and dance with me!”
In an instant, all the Pippsqueaks were bouncing on their back hooves. “Me! Pick me!” Their little hooves waved in the air, a mass of prepubescent eagerness. The older fans were happy to stay settled in place, letting the little ones have priority. "Woah, lots of volunteers," Pipp said, feigning surprise. “But I’m thinking we need to wake up some of you older folks.”
Pipp pointed to Yellowheart. “Oh, is the doctor in the house? I bet Nurse Yellowheart can really bust a move! Come on up!”
Nurse Yellowheart gave her the look of a dragon in the headlights.
“Yeah, Yellowheart! You know you got it!” Pipp did a little dance, which in her state was more of a pee-pee dance.
Yellowheart shook her head, no.
Pipp felt a sting from the rejection, now realizing that Yellowheart may not even be a fan. Knowing how selfless Yellowheart was, she could just be around to help out ponies in need.
Pipp also had a bit of a selfless streak, famous for respecting her Pippsqueaks and doing everything she could for their comfort. She made sure the shy fans got backstage access while the boisterous ones get their shot at the spotlight. But selflessness can be as fleeting as a pee into the wind.
“Come on everypony, cheer with me: Yellowheart! Yellowheart! Yellowheart!” Pipp started chanting.
“Yellowheart! Yellowheart! Yellowheart!” The Pippsqueaks were all glaring at the terrified mare as they joined the chant.
The nurse, unable to deny the mob, stepped forward through the parting sea of fillies. As she got close to the stage, Pipp pulled her up. Yellowheart stared at Pipp with a bewildered nervousness plastered on her face. “I—I don't really dance.” Yellowheart mouthed quietly, knowing this would only end with her making a fool of herself.
Pipp pulled out her phone and started up her current biggest hit, Every New Day (is the Best Day Ever).
Yellowheart stood awkwardly by Pipp’s side, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. Pipp shot her a reassuring smile but after positioning herself under the stage lights, the nurse only seemed to shrink even more.
“♫ A brand new day,” Pipp started to sing. “You all know this one! Sing it!” Pipp said as she turned the mic around toward the crowd.
“♫ A brand new chance, a brand new way,” the Pippsqueaks’s out-of-sync voices started to sing along.
As soon as the familiar beat began to pulse through the stage, Yellowheart’s posture straightened. Yellowheart tapped her hoof to the beat.
Pipp turned to Yellowheart. “I need to ask you something.”
Pipp watched as the nurse's head bobbed and a small giggle escaped her lips. And then, the unthinkable happened. Nurse Yellowheart threw her head back and began to dance. Not a dainty two-step or a polite sway, but a wild, uninhibited dance that came from months of Pipp’s playlists blasting through wireless PonyPods during the slow times at work.
This was going to be harder than Pipp thought.
“I’m having trouble peeing!” Pipp said, trying to dance along to the song.
“Bumble Being? I love that song too!” Yellowheart nodded in acknowledgment as she danced wild and free.
“Trouble Peeing! I need to pee!” Pipp said.
“I can’t hear you, dear!” Yellowheart closed her eyes and sang along, “♫ Everyday’s so bright, everyday’s full of magic”
Pipp watched both the crowd and Yellowheart, searching for the perfect moment. Some of the Pippsqueaks in the front were looking up with confusion on their faces. Pipp realized she needed to continue. “♫ Just when I think it can't get any better.”
Pipp noticed Yellowheart becoming winded. In that moment, their eyes met. This is it, Pipp thought.
“♫ Every new day – I NEED A CATHETER!” Pipp’s heart skipped a beat, and a splatter of pee hit the stage.
The Pippsqueaks went quiet. There were only faint whispers of “What’s a catheter?” as the beat continued with no lyrics.
“♫ Cant bring me down!” Jazz hopped up on the stage, continuing the song, “Come on everypony!" Jazz turned her head to Pipp, "Help is on the way," Jazz whispered.
Jazz was a lifesaver.
Yellowheart finally looked down at the droplets of Pipp's pee on the stage. “You have to pee, dear? How long has it been?”
"Since last night," Pipp whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you have a catheter with you?”
“I don’t think we need to go that far. You’re probably just excited from the concert.”
“I need a catheter!” Pipp said.
“Why don’t you try taking a break and just relax. Once you take away the nerves, you'll be able to pee."
“I really can’t stop the concert, not even for a second! Pipp reiterated her desperation, her voice cracking.
Yellowheart moved closer to Pipp and put her hoof up to Pipp’s abdomen, touching the inflated bump that was indicative of a massively distended bladder. “I don’t have a catheter on me, but I’ll go back to the office and get one.” Yellowheart said. “It might be a few minutes, but don’t worry. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
Pipp’s mind raced as Yellowheart climbed back off the stage, trotting out the door. A few minutes was impossible. The nurse’s office was at least a twenty-minute round trip by tramcar.
As she performed the next song, the fantasy of the catheter, with its cool, smooth plastic became her only solace. She moved through the choreography with a forced smile, her muscles screaming, and her legs fidgeting. Would Yellowheart make it? She had to, she just had to.
In some irony formed out of the sweat and pain of the dance, Pipp felt thirsty. The last of the Voice Potion had been processed through her kidneys and her body was desperately looking for something to make her sweat. Two mugs of cider and cream, an entire fruit platter, a large Strawberry Ripple complete with honey, and a full bottle Potions by Pipp Voice Potion had impossibly stretched out her tiny princess bladder. She could hear the slosh of pee crashing from side to side over the music. And every time the dance forced her to turn to her side, she knew the Pippsqueaks could see it; a bulge that was not an announcement of a little foal nestled in her tummy, but a pouch of juice so large it could fill fifteen baby bottles.
She didn’t know if it was practicality speaking or just a sick fantasy, but Pipp’s eyes crept toward a mother in the back row. She had a little blue foal sitting in a carrier, its strap secured below her neck. She could just imagine borrowing the mom’s bag of supplies. Pipp would keep her backside hidden behind the curtain as she sang. Yellowheart would slide the tube up inside her and she'd fill the foal’s bottles one by one. At the end of the assembly line, Jazz would put the nipple back and squeeze it until pee dribbled down the side.
More than desiring the comfort of her friends, Pipp wanted to cuddle with her mom. It wasn’t just the immediate pain that made her want to cry, but she had a primal fear of something going seriously wrong. She tapped her phone’s screen, overriding the next song once again. The Bounce House. Her mom’s favorite.
The song was positive, upbeat, and had a wild dance that kept her mind off her pulsing peehole. It wasn’t until Pipp rolled the exercise ball out from the behind the curtain that she realized she had made a mistake.
Straddling the ball wasn’t the problem. Really, the rubbery plastic pressing up against her swollen vulva served as a pleasant distraction. It wasn’t even a big deal that she found herself rocking her hips, grinding her nub against the ball, lubricating it with her juices as she lost herself in a fantasy.
The real problem was the final chorus of the song; a choreographed that required her to gain considerable height on the three powerful bounces as she swiveled around.
The first bounce onto the exercise ball went about as expected. She flopped against it, a shooting pain in her bladder as it was crushed like a balloon underhoof. Pipp flew up and turned midair before dropping down onto the ball again. The second hit was a shockwave to her entire core. It forced out pee onto the stage and the momentum slingshotted her back up. However, the third bounce, even in normal circumstances, had always a little flirty.
It wasn’t a secret that Pipp took good care of the parts under her tail. The Canternet was full of pictures that showed off the smooth, supple lips of her hairless vulva, some depicting the modest uniformity of her labia while others teased the darker, more inviting flesh nestled inside. She’d had no problem including her bits in selfies, or even posing for the paparazzi. Heck, she even let their lens get right up to her butthole, which she always kept clean enough to eat off of. Her nakedness was natural and beautiful. Ponies had no reason to be shy about somepony seeing under their tail.
But Pipp got shy about sex. It wasn’t that she wasn’t into it, but rather she saw herself still near the start of her journey. There were times when she’d be in bed, rubbing herself under the covers, wanting to tell one of her friends what she was doing. She even thought about filming it for her Pippsqueaks. But she always shied away from going all the way and even shied away from finishing her practice bouts.
There was one time Pipp had even gotten brave, taking up a pseudonym online and asked a stallion if he could stream himself cumming on a picture of her face. She had rubbed herself silly thinking of him popping like a cream cake, but got scared and ghosted once she saw his throbbing erection show up on stream. Since the few years since she hit puberty, Pipp couldn’t figure out what form her first orgasm would take. It was a game of teasing where she’d work herself up and wonder if she’d find herself in the right moment.
“♫ And the excitement makes us,” Pipp’s tail flipped up as her body swiveled around the ball during the third bounce. With her glittery bits exposed to the crowd as she made her descent, Pipp looked to the crowd and realized everything she had seen in her peripheral vision for the past few moments had been real.
“♫ Bounce,” Pipp said as she came. The cameras flashed, not only capturing the swollenness of her reddened vulva, but also the proud throbbing clit that commanded an expulsion of fluids that shot in a viscous spray at the audience. It combined with a firehose of deep yellow pee into a mixture that could only be labeled and bottled as Pipp’s cum. And Pipp’s cum splattered onto Glory. Glory, a filly whose birthday was next week. The thought not yet having picked out a gift crossed her mind, before realizing that cum was probably a weird present for an eight-year-old. Pipp’s eyes rolled back and the outro of the song was replaced by Pipp’s spasming moans.
The photographers captured Pipp’s gift in action. It splashed Glory’s wings. It splashed Glory’s mane. It splashed Glory’s face. And Pipp didn’t stop there, she let her foamy pee wash over her filly fans like a hose, the evidence of her first orgasm marking Glory, Peach Fizz, and Seashell as they held up their sign. A sign that said Pee on us!
Pipp thought everything she had seen was just a vision brought on by the pain and delusion of the strained morning. As Pipp was grinding against the ribs of the exercise ball, she watched Sunny sifting through the audience. Watched Sunny talking to ponies. Watched Sunny giving markers to the ponies who were holding signs.
The thought of Sunny made Pipp want to cum. Cum hard. She had heard Sunny’s little leader voice telling ponies that the front row was a splash zone while guiding some ponies forward while others went back. Jazz stayed in the front, slurping away at Rocky like one of Sunny's smoothies. The pretty hooficure expert had her tongue running up the slit of her coworker's peehole before fully taking his cock into her throat (Jazz’s little gags were so adorbs!)
The Pippsqeaks flipped their signs around, baring newly written mottos as Pipp barely registered that she had slipped into full on moaning and masturbating in front of the crowd.
You can pee now!
Pee all over us, Pipp!
Let it go! Let it fly!
The third bounce made her realize: it was all for real. She had just came onto her fans. Came to Sunny. Came to the idea of peeing on everypony.
For once the music didn’t mock her as the next song started to play.
“♫ I’ve been holding on to something far too long,” Pipp sang as she bounced off the ball and landed at the edge of the stage with the clack of her golden hooves. Her heavy bladder was no longer painful. Her muscles were no longer tight, no longer scared. Pipp had all the confidence in the world. And as she leaned off the edge, over the crowd, she peed. Just peed.
“♫ Release.” She peed onto Dahlia. She peed onto Sugar Moonlight. She peed onto Fifi.
Her thick, frothy spray of pee stretched her urethra as all the long built up pressure finally released.
“♫ Release.” The Pippsqueaks opened their mouths. She peed on their tongues. She peed on their moms. She peed on their dads. She peed on their brothers and their sisters and all their friends too.
The room was filled with the scent of cider and citrus and sex. Pipp peed onto Rocky. She peed onto Jazz, her mouth and nostrils now bursting with white cock cream.
“♫ Release.” Pipp peed so hard that it fired over the splash zone and onto Posey’s face (she only got a little mad). Pipp peed so much that it soaked everypony: the mares, the stallions, the fillies, the colts, the blue foal at her mom’s breast, and even the dragons. Sparky got a warm morning bath and Hitch a hot shower. She peed onto Zipp who jigged with weird glee, dancing and singing covered in her sister’s pee.
“♫ Let it all go, let it all go.”
And as Pipp hindquarters stretched a deep squat, she felt Sunny’s tongue push up inside. The sweet mare’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking as it throbbed and the pee sprayed down her throat. She savored it as Pipp came. Came her little Pipp juices and came her little Pipp pee. Her peehole tasted like cider. It tasted like grape. It tasted like Pipp and it tasted like pee. Sunny pressed under Pipp’s tummy, forcing cider onto her tongue. She swallowed Pipp’s fourth and she swallowed Pipp’s fifth; little orgasms that pulled her in and kissed her right back. Each moan reverberated in the mic with the cameras flashing, and the crowds cooing as Pipp’s peeing finally ceased.
“♫ Let it all go, let it all go.” Nurse Yellowheart danced and sang with a smile.
Author's Note
"What does CIYC mean?" Hitch said as he tapped the like button on Pipp's latest ClipTrot sensation. He really didn't know what to make of all the acronyms in the description.
"You never know when it comes to Pipp." Sunny winked as the little vibe inside her gave her a bigger vibe, one that splattered down her hind leg and sent droplets onto the Brighthouse floor. With a few hooftaps she posted Your most exciting vid yet! in the comment section.
