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// Bonus: Feel the Burn 
// Story: Starting the Day in Short Supply 
// by Non Uberis 
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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.