The Zip Files Bk. 01: Zip Unzips Ch. 06

Zip Unzips

Episode One of the Zip Files - the Saga of a Lesser Super-Villain

Recap: Zack "Zip" Zilch, the biggest loser in wealthy San Cajetan High's senior class, has discovered that he has the mutant powers to control women's clothing and to enlarge his penis. He has used these powers to seduce and fuck his buxom teacher, Mrs. Denise Sablier. But he is not done with her by a long shot, and has asked her to now come to his home in order to provide some more personal instruction.

No characters depicted in this work are under the age of eighteen.

Content Note: FYI, this is the first half of what was originally one extremely long chapter that I ended up cutting in two. As such, it is a little more plot-heavy than the last couple; it covers the aftermath of last chapter's sex scene and then bridges into the next sex scene, but does not get all the way through it; hence why it was submitted under 'Novels' and not one of the more sexually-focused categories. You will have to wait for the next chapter, which is likely to come out in 'Erotic Couplings' or similar, to get the full conclusion of this sequence. In the future I will probably try not to break up sex scenes like this as much, but Zip's first intimate encounters with Mrs. Sablier are pretty important since they represent his introduction to the 'world' of being a sex-haver, so I ended up wanting to treat them in pretty heavy detail. Hopefully that wasn't the wrong call.

Also, I could not resist covering Mrs. Sablier's own trip home in some detail, so we get our first extended chunk of narrative outside the POV of our protagonist in this chapter. These are never going to be super common, but they will occur from time to time; mostly, as now, when it allows me to throw in more gratuitous smut. Now, with that digression out of the way, on with the show.

Chapter 6: Zip starts Training

Leaving Mrs. Sablier's classroom, Zip walked straight home. His mind was so aswirl with excitement and wonder, he barely noticed anything around him as he walked. He barely noticed the doors of the school hurling to one side and then falling behind. He barely noticed the familiar old buildings march past, ornate black facades looming against the fading orange sky. He barely even noticed the occasional shapely female tourists who were now, for a duration of at most a week at a time, the closest he ever had to a 'girl-next-door' to lust after.

He barely noticed any of that because his mind was afire, racing with thought. He ran through all the tests he wanted to do with his new powers. Discrete web searches he wanted to make, to learn more about what he now was. Belated investigation into Mrs. Sablier and into her husband to learn who it was, exactly, that he had just fucked and cucked respectively.

As he walked, Zip was vaguely aware that he still had a couple of Mrs. Sablier's bright red lip-prints decorating the edges of his face; not to mention her skimpy little thong still dangling from his belt. But, if anyone noticed, none of them made a scene. There were a couple of occasions when a pretty tourist-girl, passing the other way, seemed to do a quick double-take, and he thought she might have spotted something. But, hopped up on adrenaline and excitement Zip never even bothered to turn around and confirm, much less do anything about it.

Arriving at his home, Zip thumped up the steps. Slipping through the front door, he proceeded straight to the basement where he made his lair. Then he looked around.

"Well, fuck me," he said.

It was immediately clear that all his grand plans would have to wait. Because when he had left that morning he had had no clue he was finally going to be getting a real live woman coming for sex the very next night. In fact, he had pretty much given up on that possibility for at least the last year or more. And it showed.

"Fuuuck," Zip thought as he spun his head further, taking in the mess.

Mrs Sablier was hardly his girlfriend. But still. The last thing he wanted was for her to show up, take one look around, and immediately declare that she did not care what he had over her; there was no way in hell she was going to take off her panties nor let even one square inch of her naked flesh touch a single surface within the toxic waste dump he called a 'room' - much less have sex with him in it. And, bluntly, from where he was standing, surveying a vast field of dirt and filth, he really could not have blamed her.

"I've got some work to do," he sighed.

But he was still too amped up after his walk to get right to it. So, to start off, he sat down at his desk. He transferred the videos he had taken from his phone. He quickly separated out the ones he had that could not have possibly been taken with his own hand - the one down between her legs for instance - and put them in their own separate folder. He encrypted that into its own zip file, and secreted that away somewhere very safe. Then, he got around to doing what he had falsely told Mrs. Sablier he already had: he took the other files, the ones from his own hand, zipped them up separately, and then backed them up very carefully to multiple locations online as well as onto his own spare hard drives - just in case.

But, he was still so amped up he couldn't go straight to cleaning. So, he opened up the 'safe' files, which were still on his desktop, and began going through them.

"Jesus Christ," he said, as he watched the footage of his teacher sucking him, and then taking off her panties, and then getting her poor pussy spread absurdly wide around his big cock. Whipping out the same big dick, he quickly rubbed one out to the footage of himself nailing his teacher into her own desk.

And then, finally, he got around to cleaning. He worked at it for many many hours, once more staying up well past midnight, not just cleaning but other preparations too - trying to get everything just so. Then, he finally went to bed. But not before jerking off just one more time to his videos of Mrs. Sablier, right before falling asleep.

Zip managed to keep his hands and fingers to himself all the next day. He experimented occasionally, in very innocuous ways - seeing if he could make a skirt billow up, or a flag, or a T-shirt. Seeing if he could give a jock a wedgie during gym, or untie a girl's laces. He did so from afar, and generally kept entirely to things that could happen naturally and were as non-sexual as possible.

He figured out his rough limits fairly quickly. Girls' clothes were fair game - boys' clothes not. The border was fuzzy, and seemed to be basically down to how he thought about them. When a girl strutted by smugly in her boyfriend's letter jacket, he found he could zip and unzip it at will. When, after a convenient drama-filled break-up the boy appeared later that day in the same jacket, he found he could not.

He was worried about his penis in gym class - how he would hide such a sudden monstrous growth. But it turned out, when he wanted to be normal he was normal. When he was erect, and wanted to be more so - he grew. After going flacid, if he didn't get hard again quickly, or think about staying big, then he would start to shrink again rapidly. 'Guess I'm a grower not a shower' Zip thought as he sat in a bathroom stall, having demonstrated this to himself three times in a row. Then he left and went back to Calculus, having been 'pooping' through roughly half of it.

Mrs. Sablier had done as he asked, and come dressed 'appropriately.' She wore a skintight red dress which extended no more than a few inches down her thighs. Through it he could see hints of her underwear - enough to tell she was wearing a strapless bra and a skimpy thong. Below, her long bare legs tottered back and forth atop giant black fuck-me heels.

He could tell, from every movement of her body and the slight flush that continuously appeared on her cheeks, that it thoroughly humiliated her to appear this way before her class. He would find out later she had gone to great lengths to avoid all her colleagues, ducking in and out of the faculty lounge as quickly as she could in a fruitless effort to avoid their stares.

The girls, of course, noticed right away; and as far as Zip could tell from their many smirking whispered conversations the purpose of their teacher's attire instantly and completely replaced her actual lesson as the focus of their attention. Pretty much all of them immediately concluded that their busty instructor was intending to get the ever-living shit railed out of her immediately after class - so soon after she didn't have time to change. But the exact identity of her impending despoiler was a matter of intense debate - with theories ranging from her being about to meet her husband at the airport after a business trip so she could rail him in the long term carpark, up to her having an affair with any of a dozen different male faculty members.

Curiously enough, the one person none of the girls ever seemed to suspect as being the scheduled despoiler of their busty instructor's body was the scrawny, awkward loser sitting right there in their midst. This was despite the many times Denise turned and briefly looked right at Zip, squirmed, and then suddenly looked away again - the blush deepening on her cheeks. The girls, busy debating whether the head football coach or the principal were more likely as the man who was about to give it to her, never seemed to notice.

But despite their rampant speculation on the fate of their teacher's vagina, not a single one of these girls were actually big enough losers to hang around the school on a Friday afternoon to try and find out. So the moment the bell rang the room emptied out as fast as ever... leaving just Zip and Mrs. Sablier staring at each other once more across a sea of empty desks. Once they were alone he rose, picked up his things, and approached her. And after stewing in her own emotions for the entire class Denise took a deep breath, and seemed to try and calm them.

"Shall I drive you?" she asked. She, like everyone else, was well aware he didn't have a car.

"No, too obvious," he said. He had thought about this during the day and, as much as he loved seeing her humiliated in public, had decided he needed to work very hard to keep their actual relationship as discreet as possible. He handed her a slip of paper. "Meet me here in an hour."

She looked down at it then back up at him.

"Zip," she said. "I agreed to come teach you at your home - not a bar. That's too public. If you want me to buy you alcohol I can, but let me just go to-"

"It's not a bar," Zip told her. "That's my house."

Denise's eyebrows went up. Her gaze leaped down at the paper, to make sure she hadn't misread, then leaped back up to his face. "But... nobody actually lives there anymore!" she protested. "I haven't had a student from there in years!"

"You have one," Zip corrected her. "Is there a problem?" he followed up, sharply.

She took a deep breath, and then shook her head. "No..." she admitted. "But..."

"Then I'll see you there in an hour," Zip said, firmly, and turned and strode away.

Denise watched him go. Then the moment the door closed, she put her hand on her buxom hip and glared.

"Who does he think he is, dictating schedules to me?" she demanded, of the empty air of her classroom. Then, she shook her head and, picking up her things, she left.

Sort of like a spy going to a clandestine meeting, Denise took a circuitous route to Zip's. She made repeated detours to drive aimlessly around random neighborhoods, to make sure she wasn't accidentally followed. And as she drove, she could not keep from reliving her exit from the school the previous night, over and over again, inside her head.

Having finished cleaning her desk she had tidied herself up as best she could, using her own powered-off board as a mirror. With her hair put back in an approximation of her bun, her blazer tightly closed, and her high heels back on, she almost appeared 'normal'... from a distance. If you didn't look closely enough to see the naked vagina exposed several inches below her hem; or the huge nipples poking out through her blazer, as her bra-less breasts heaved and jiggled inside. But it had been the best she was going to do. So, with a deep breath, with the night outside having grown as dark as it would yet not so late as to guarantee suspicion, she had turned... and gone for it.

Every strutting step through the dark hallways of the school she had been intensely aware of her own gigantic buns hanging out of the bottom of her blazer and swaying back and forth as she walked. Every step of the way from the door to the parking lot, she had been acutely aware of her own naked pussy, exposed before the entire world and everything: with distant highways whirring, distant buildings glowing, and distant mountains looming all seeming to have a direct line of sight on its leaking contents. And through every twist and turn of her drive home she had been continuously aware of her own large bare breasts, still tender from having been repeatedly grabbed and squeezed during sex, heaving back and forth just behind the steering wheel.

In the end she hadn't seen a soul - but of course she had not known that setting out, nor at any point during the long and excruciatingly half-naked trip back to her own door.

And then, last but not least, had come the most nerve wracking part of all: sneaking into her own house. Contrary to her students' avid speculation her husband was in fact home. And if she rounded a corner to find herself face to face with him, bottomless and with her pussy completely filled with another man's cum... well, that would have pretty much been that. She had run through that scenario over and over in her head, and never come up with a response that didn't leave her completely and utterly screwed. Standing outside she had taken off her high heels, the better to tiptoe past if she had a chance, took a deep breath, then once more just went for it.

But the actual result had been a complete anticlimax; on par with the lack of climax she had experienced while pinned beneath her horrid but unexpectedly well-hung student. Her husband, it had turned out, had been ensconced in his office, on a call. He had only seen her briefly, from halfway across the house, over the kitchen counter. Never seeing her from the waist down, he had had no reason to suspect she hadn't been wearing anything besides the blazer. They exchanged two words each, and a wave, at a distance of several meters - and then she had safely escaped into the door to their master bedroom and he had turned back to his call.

After that it was all over. Her blazer had been discarded in her closet, with no clue - unless he did a complete inventory of her wardrobe - that she had returned without wearing the matching skirt nor blouse she had left in. That was to say nothing of the bra and panties she had worn underneath. They had been an expensive matched set too, one of her sexiest - though she doubted he would miss them either.

And then she herself had been in the shower, her nudity no longer remotely mysterious. All the tell-tale clues still left on or in her sleek supple flesh had been rapidly scrubbed away by her sponge, flowed down her long bare legs, and finally swirled away down the drain between her feet.

But she had built herself up so much that in the end she almost felt a tremendous let-down. The entire time she had been coming home she had been running through scenario after her scenario within her own head. What if she suddenly ran into a strange man? Or a whole gang? What if she was pulled over, and a cop strutted up to see her in her car? How might they react, and what might happen afterwards? So many naughty, filthy fantasies had run through her head that to have them all just end in the tepid caresses of a soapy sponge, well...

Suffice to say, she had spent much much longer in that steamy shower than had been strictly necessary, just to clean herself. She spent a long time carefully scrubbing every inch of her big breasts. She spent an especially long time on her large tender nipples, squeezing and caressing them tenderly to make absolutely sure they were spotless. And she spent over a half hour alone with her detachable massaging shower-head parked directly between her thighs, scouring out every tiny bit of her pussy. She did this even though she knew, as a biology teacher, that for the single most important purpose it was useless.

Well... second most important purpose, she thought to herself as, biting her lip to avoid moaning, and with her bare toes twitching, she pushed the gushing head even harder up against herself. At several points a little later an outside observer would have been forgiven for thinking she was now attempting to clean the shower itself using nothing but her own big round buns - as they squished and pressed repeatedly against one of clear glass wall after another, while a series of interesting whimpers and coos echoed up out of the hot roiling steam that otherwise filled the little stall.

After over an hour in the shower and then another half hour of steamy self-care at her mirror, Denise had finally emerged looking completely immaculate and impeccably beautiful... to find her husband still on the phone. She had sighed and got on with it. It was too late for her usual workout - her time getting worked over by Zip would have to suffice. So, coming back out of the bedroom she had instead proceeded to the kitchen - wearing a tiny pair of pink panties and a white T-shirt small enough to expose a broad expanse of taut flat midriff. She had prepared herself a salad, and then eaten it in tiny bites at the counter. Then, seeing he was still busy, she had left some out for him and retreated back to their marriage bed. There, retrieving a less watery replacement for the shower head from her bottom panty drawer, she had proceeded to spend a great deal of time working through some emotions all by herself.

Much later, when her husband finally came in, he gave her a little kiss on her neck and then rolled over to his side. But even long after he was asleep, she lay awake, her eyes blinking at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Finally, while he had still slept she had gotten up. She had gone into the very back of her closet. She had pulled out that dress, taken it out... and put it in the back of her car. Then she had gone back to bed and lain there some more, still not sleeping - still blinking at the ceiling as she was lost in thought.

She had left over an hour early the next morning - telling her husband she had a staff meeting, not that he bothered to ask. She had been dressed in a conservative pantsuit - not wanting him to see what she was actually going to be wearing. Once on the road, instead of heading into town, she had instead turned and driven out of it. She had gone a ways out until she found a store both remote enough no one would recognize her, but big enough to carry all the supplies she was after. Then, not wanting to be seen changing in either the store or at school, on her way back she had turned down a little lonely side road she knew. Pulling off just past the first bend, she had picked up the dress and slipped into the brush, to change there. She had been slightly nervous about that... but on the other hand she had just spent much of the previous night running around half naked, and gotten away with it fine... so what the hell.

And there, alone in the woods - or so she hoped - using the surrounding branches as hangars, she had stripped down to her extremely skimpy underwear, and then slowly shimmied into what she was already thinking of as 'the little red whore's dress.'