The Zip Files Bk. 01: Zip Unzips Ch. 02

ZIP UNZIPS

Episode One of The Zip Files: the Saga of a Lesser Supervillain

Recap in Italics; skip if you don't need it: Zachary Zilch is the biggest loser in the wealthy San Cajetan Senior Senior High School. He has earned the nickname 'Zip the Unzipper' for the numerous times he has had to hastily zip back up his fly, having been almost caught masturbating. Every day his last class is AP Senior Biology, also known collectively around school as 'the Joke Class' - because it consists of twenty-nine of the hottest and most popular girls in school, and the one boy who has zero chance to capitalize on such a situation - Zip. To complete the 'joke', the teacher is the busty ball-breaker, and former model, Mrs. Denise Sablier. After forcing Zip to publicly apologize for tardiness, Mrs. Sablier opens her lesson on genetics by discussing so-called super-mutations, informing the class that they normally emerge around puberty, and while clearly genetically based, seem to manifest based on the deepest desires and obsessions of the carrier.

She then has the girls go around the class, each stating what they think their power would be. During this, Zip zones out - and becomes fixated on the top button of his teacher's dress, whose clasped state prevents him from getting a direct look at her enormous hooters. Then, to his astonishment and delight, it slides open, and her neckline flops apart - exposing the top of her deep cleavage. Unfortunately, this distracts him enough that he does not realize she has just called on him. Irritated at having caught him staring at her breasts, Denise allows the girls to propose a series of demeaning super-mutant identities for Zip, before calling the class to order. But she seems to remain oblivious of her unbuttoned button, allowing Zip to continue to enjoy the jiggling of her big cans throughout the remainder of her lesson. Our story now continues...

Note: no characters appearing in this text are under the age of eighteen. All high-school students depicted are seniors and are of legal age.

That night Zip didn't have much homework and what he had he finished quickly. Then, seeing that his mom was on her second bottle, he shut himself up in his room and spent the rest of the night edging.

He tracked down a torrent of the full video of the girl who looked just like Stacy Sussex, and watched it several times - focusing in particular at the beginning, where she pulled down her panties, and the end, where she screamed and shook helplessly upon her well-hung partner's cock. He stopped to send a link to Molly, as she had requested - and then got back to it. He interspersed several other clips with some candid footage he had taken of some of his hotter classmates, stripping out of their clothes to reveal bikinis at the pool, or bending over low at the beach so he could see their mounds peeking through their thighs.

They say man is a product of his environment. Zip was absolutely a product of his. After his father had died - which had happened early enough that Zip had no memories of him - Zip's mother had taken a hard turn towards religion. While she had eventually mellowed a bit as she found a new succor in the bottle, during his first phases of puberty all 'smut' had been banned from their house - meaning that his earliest experiences in jerking off had been to pictures of underwear and bikini models in what catalogs and magazines he could scavenge. Already an outcast due to his class, he did not have much confidence about approaching his female peers directly... and the mockery piled on him by male and female classmates alike after the few times he had worked up the courage to try had done nothing but reinforce this.

So instead he had fallen back on masturbation. Lots and lots and LOTS of masturbation. He had masturbated in the bathroom, and in the woods. He had masturbated in the pool and in the back of the bus. Since he was a dumb kid, he had been caught repeatedly - hence his nickname.

Due to his limited available material, well into full adolescence the mental image of clothing, particularly skimpy bikinis or bras or panties, coming off his female classmates' bodies was still a core part of his self-pleasuring experience.

Eventually he had managed to finagle unfettered internet access, which had broken this a bit - but mostly only overlaid it with stock pornographic tropes and stereotypes. He watched videos of dudes with monster cocks plowing their way through one girl after another without rest and, even though he knew deep down that was all done in editing, fantasized of doing the same within his curvaceous classmates.

He want down dives into more esoteric genres besides. He watched cucking videos, where guys got tricked - via bets or dares other transparent pretexts - to let some other dude take a crack at their girlfriends; only to be left a shattered whimpering wreck when that dude proved himself to be far more of a man than they. He watched pickup-themed clips, where ladies on the streets got talked into sex in fifteen minutes flat, and left with their unprotected pussies filled and dripping with cum. He watched interracial conversion videos, where girls went in on one side claiming to despise everything their impending partner stood for and to be only doing it for the money, and came out the other practically begging to be his slave. And he knew, deep down, that that was all fake too - paid actors, the flimsiest of scripts, often made obvious by the most wooden performances imaginable. But that didn't matter. Those fantasies seeped into his head as well, merging into the swirling melange of unfulfilled lusts that regularly infected his dreams.

Thus for years, Zip had spent an enormous amount of time with his head lost in visions of what he wanted more than anything else on Earth. And as he masturbated, the same phrases repeated themselves over and over again, like mantras, in his head or on his lips, spoken out into the universe itself, again and again. He repeated them now, over and over in succession, like a preacher nailing the main points of his sermon time and again just to make sure his congregation 'got it'.

"Not too much for you, is it?" he asked, as he imagined the average-sized erection he was stroking was the sort of pussy-crushing monsters he saw in his videos; and envisioned the jaw of one pretty girl after another dropping in disbelief at the sight.

"Panties... down!" he growled, as he imagined one shapely beauty after another gasping before him in their underwear... and then immediately bending low and stripping naked just for him.

"Yeah, you love that don't you?!" he enthused, as he imagined one curvy classmate after another, in his arms, shivering and squealing in devastated awe, as each was stunned to find Zip the Unzipper fucking her ten times better than her boyfriend ever could.

He edged on and on into the night, until finally he came. But such was his young libido that he was soon at it again, and then again. He repeated the same words over and over into the night... until at last he fell asleep, after wiping up his last almost painfully dry discharge... and they continued to repeat on into his dreams.

Zip stayed up so late jerking off, he rolled into school the next morning with bags under his eyes. In his first class, AP World History, his eyes drifted shut repeatedly. He thought it had gone under the radar, but apparently it had not, for as he started to pack up the teacher approached.

"Could I have a word with you real quick, Zack?" she asked him.

'Oh fuck...' he thought; as the rest of the students filed out behind him.

But as he took a closer look, she didn't seem upset. And there were compensations for being held up after class by this particular teacher: she was just about the only one in school who could possibly make Denise Sablier jealous.

Zip didn't know her actual age, but he would guess late twenties - and only added the 'late' qualifier because of the framed PhD diploma on the wall near her desk. She didn't look a day over twenty-one. She didn't quite have Denise's insane figure, but made up for it by being drop-dead gorgeous, with dark red hair spilling down her back, combined with skin that seemed to naturally look the same shade as burnished bronze. Today she wore a suit of pure white, with a short skirt and a tight blazer.

"Is everything alright, Zack?" she asked, once he stood before her at the front of the class, near her desk. "I couldn't help but notice you kept nodding off."

Zip shook his head. "I'm sorry, Doctor Creed," he told her.

"I told you all, call me Cassie," she reminded him. "There's no need for the 'Doctor' either, I don't care about titles. I'm not insulted if you find the material boring."

Today had been the start of a unit on the history of farming. The digital board behind her still showed her final slide - and frankly, by the end, it hadn't just been Zip who had been nodding off.

"I just want to make sure you are living up to your full potential," she told him.

Zip groaned internally. He knew that in addition to her teaching duties, Doctor Creed also served as a guidance counselor. He had never had an appointment with her, or any of the full-time ones either - he suspected the school had quietly written him off - but he guessed she was going to take the opportunity to make up for that.

"It's not that," he said. He shook his hand back and forth, trying to dissuade any further interest on her part. "I found it fascinating actually," he assured her.

This was true - Zip was a big enough dork to have found her explanation of the difference between Mesopotamian and Medieval crop-rotation techniques quite engrossing, even as it had seemingly made everyone else in the class just want to take dirt naps.

"I just had a late night is all," he said.

Dr. Creed nodded slowly, looking at him intently. For a moment, he thought he had managed to dissuade her from any attempts at impromptu-guidance-counseling. But then she opened her lips, and revealed that he had not.

"You know, Mister Zilch," Cassie said. "I firmly believe that everyone has potential for greatness inside them. Everyone has a destiny. But that destiny only comes with effort. If you sit alone, wasting your potential on unproductive activities, you will never accomplish anything."

'Fuuck...' Zip thought. 'Well, at least she's hot...' he thought, his eyes sweeping up and down her. He took particular interest in the long coppery legs, which seemed to extend for miles out of her short white skirt. 'She must spend every minute outside this place doing cardio, to keep them so fine and sleek like that' he thought, as his gaze admired her thighs and her calves.

"Think of it sort of like farming," Cassie said, in the meantime.

If she noticed the actual direction of her student's attention she gave no overt sign of it, a sweet indulgent smile set upon her lips. Sweeping her arm up, she gestured towards the lesson still displayed upon the board behind her, which showed the difference between an ancient farmer scattering seed by hand on one side, and a modern mechanized seed-drill on the other.

"The farmer does not need to do the work of the seed," she said. "The seed grows on its own - that is its destiny. But regardless of that destiny it is still the farmer that needs to work diligently and plant his seeds. If no seeds are planted, there will never be a harvest. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh," Zip said.

His gaze had progressed up from her legs to her skirt. It was so short, every time she moved, he thought he was about to see the crotch of her panties. He wondered intensely what color they were. Pink? Purple? Imagining her in different cuts distracted him intensely. And while she was not quite a match for Mrs. Sablier up top, he always marveled how wide her hips were. For such a skinny girl, she had an amazingly broad belly - which still swooped back to a startlingly tiny waist. His eyes carefully noting these impressive proportions for roughly the thirtieth time in the last hour, he quickly nodded, to assure her he was paying attention.

"Yes, Doc- Cassie," he said.

She smiled. Reaching out, she patted him on the shoulder - which was a no-no for a student and teacher, but Zip was not about to complain. But it did finally get his eyes up and off her body and onto her face - although they did still linger for a moment halfway in between because, even if no match for Mrs. Sablier, she still had quite an impressive rack too, on top of everything else.

"I'll... I'll do... exactly whatever it is you said," he assured her, hastily.

But if she realized his internal turmoil, she once more gave no sign of it. She gave him a broad smile and nodded - her eyes still looking at him warmly, from amidst a billowing halo of fiery red hair.

"Go apply yourself diligently, then, to some productive planting, " she said - giving him a gentle push towards the door. "And I'm sure we can expect a great harvest from you soon."

Zip swallowed, and nodded. He was suddenly intensely aware of how much time he had spent staring at her body, and hoped she hadn't noticed.

"Right," Zip said. And, propelled by the raw force of sudden social anxiety as strong as pure rocket fuel, he turned and took off as fast as he could.

The rest of his day didn't go much better. Gym class was a nightmare as usual. Zip was naturally thin and lanky but not athletic. Changing in the locker rooms also drove home yet again that, while he was perfectly average, he didn't have anything that was about to make the snooty goddesses of San Caj High drop to their knees in wonder.

Then, finally, it came again: AP Senior Biology. The Joke Class.

"Glad you could make it on time today, Mr. Zilch," Mrs. Sablier growled at him, as he entered.

It was all he could do not to do a double-take at her, as he entered. Denise Sablier was attractive enough any day of the week; but today she was stunning. On top she wore a white silk blouse; on bottom, a tight black skirt that seemed to reach no more than a few inches down her thighs. The dark blazer that went with the skirt, forming a matching suit, was on the back of her chair. It all looked well-fitted, and made her already incredible figure even harder to ignore. He mumbled something unintelligible to her as he stumbled past, and proceeded down the aisle. Finding his place once more at the back he sank into his seat, in the classroom full of gorgeous beauties.

'Must have had an official observation today,' Zip thought, eyes still up and on his teacher. He tried to avoid getting caught staring - again - as she lifted her pointer and started up her lesson.

Her topic today turned out to be one that Zip already knew backwards and forwards from a combination of nature documentaries and Wikipedia dives. So, with no need to pay attention, even with the spectacular vision Mrs. Sablier herself was presenting, he soon found his gaze wandering to take in his classmates' bodies as well.

But there was one thing missing. The desk directly in front of him was empty. Swinging his eyes about and doing a quick survey of the luscious beauties around him, Zip realized who was absent: Tiffany Lord. Then, a couple minutes into the class, she burst into the door, looking like a fashion plate.

"You're late," Mrs. Sablier said.

"Yes, ma'am, sorry," she said. She fluffed up her hair - which didn't need it - and smiled. "I had to visit the little girls' room."

One of the other classmates near Zip leaned over close to a third. "More like visit the back of Luke Palmer's car," she whispered.

The two nodded knowingly, and giggled. But, if Mrs. Sablier noticed, she gave no sign of it.

"Just go to your seat," she directed the tardy Tiffany, and turned back to the board.

"Thanks!" Tiffany said, in a sing-song voice. She was dressed in a tight beige sweater and a denim skirt that reached halfway down her thigh. Sashaying down the row, she swung over into her seat.

"God... damn..." Zip thought to himself.

Trying once more not to get caught staring, he nevertheless could not help himself as her rotund bottom swung out before him and then began to settle down, directly past his gaze, into her seat. As she bent over the hem of her shirt lifted and that of her skirt sank, and he caught a hint of two little bands of bright pink arcing up over her buns. Then they vanished, as she sank down to wiggle on her seat in front of him.

'Was that a... thong?' Zip thought, a little dazed.

Tiffany was not the sort of girl one might naively expect to own such a garment, let alone wear one; particularly not the bright pink and skimpy kind that what he had briefly seen had implied. She always wore a Promise Ring, plus a prominent gold cross on display just above her ample cleavage. Her discussions of after-school activities always involved bible study meetings, or choir practice, or church functions. And if any conversation she was nearby strayed even into the vicinity of sex or dating, she would without fail pipe up to interject that she was saving her virtue for her future husband and could not imagine being as free with it as all those other hussies - by which she meant any girl not in her little youth-group clique.

Naturally enough this meant that, after Stacy, she was one of the leading figures in giving his friend Molly shit.

Zip, being of a cynical nature, had naturally always suspected her whole act was one giant pile of bullshit. But he had never been in position to confirm that one way or the other...

'Is Miss Churchy-Church really wearing a fucking thong?' Zip asked himself again, still staring.

Tiffany wiggled back and forth before him, her curvy hips visible clearly in the back of her seat... but having returned to its natural position her fetching outfit now gave away no clues. But her skirt zipped up in back. The zipper was right in front of him, arcing down her curvy bubble-butt, offering access to all of her secrets.

'C'mon...' Zip thought, staring at it. 'Unzip... just a little.'

And then, to his shock, it did. The brass clasp of her zipper wiggled and then slid downwards, a fraction of an inch. A tiny gap opened up in the top of her skirt... but it still wasn't enough to see anything.

Zip breathed deep, suddenly feeling his heart hammering in his chest.

'She... she was squirming around an awful lot...' he assured himself. 'Of course it was going to move a little...'

But he kept staring.

'Just... just a little bit farther...' he thought.

And then, his eyes going wide, Zip stared in awe... as Tiffany's zipper obeyed him. It shivered back and forth for a second or two, and then slid ever so slowly downwards. One inch, two inch, three... gradually it treaded its way down her ass. The back of Tiffany's skirt flopped open, before him... and revealed to him everything he had wanted to see and more.

Tiffany's tiny thong arched upwards clear as day, between her buns. At the top of her curvy ass it formed a little whale's tail, before arcing out to either side. Where it went down inside her skirt, it was practically a bit of pink floss between her cheeks. Tiffany's ample buttocks bulged out of her opened skirt, jiggling back and forth each time she squirmed.

Midway down her right cheek, to one side of the bright pink floss, lay a fainter print, also in light pink, upon the surface of her exposed, rounded, and silky-smooth left ass-cheek. It looked nothing so much like the outline of a hand. The size looked about right for Luke Palmer's palm - not that Zip had any way of knowing for sure one way or the other.

Panting softly, taking in the entire tableau of scantily-clad bubble-butt suddenly laid out before him, Zip stared in disbelief. Then he quickly got his eyes up, and looked around to see if any girls were staring at him in disgust, or horror.