91 - Tale of the Sideshow - Zipperlips

Jason selected the nearest candle. Held it in his cupped hands, elbows on his knees for an uncomfortably long moment. At last, he broke the silence.

"Let me tell y'all about

ZIPPERLIPS

We had a dancer working the pole in the regular shows. How much she took off in a show depended on the local police. If they weren't amenable? G-strings and wet t-shirts. Open? Might be a coochie-show, gyrating naked on the edge of the stage, letting the punters grope her pussy, stick their fingers in.

Her name was Andi. Frizzy brown hair, nose and face made me think she had some Mediterranean heritage, North African maybe. She was a good dancer, had lessons at some point. I think daddy had bought her implants, breasts high and perky, obviously fake but not excessive; back when he imagined she was going to college for a MRS instead of a degree. How she ended up stripping for a carny show, I don't know. Wasn't on ****, wasn't stupid or ****, though she liked the money.

What it was, I think, Andi wanted to be special. She wanted to be more than what she was. Felt her life going nowhere, and the options were slim for a woman in her mid-20s with limited education, no money, not enough skill or talent to make it as a serious dancer anywhere. There was no way she would have made it into the sideshow just on her existing act.

She approached me first. I got the idea she was trying to get sweet on me, like I had any sway with the Boss. Now, I was married then, and Xochi was pregnant and the Girlhole had given birth to her baby, so whenever I wasn't busy scouting locations or building sets or working the freak show, I was changing diapers, giving backrubs, going to Lamaze classes, and generally trying to look after everyone. I didn't have five minutes to spare for a titjob, even if I did want to step out on the sideshow girls.

Finally, I had a word with the Boss. She smiled, that kind of nasty smile she has when she has an idea. Called Andi into her office. Which is how I got assigned my new assistant.

Andi and I worked behind the scenes, mostly; but the Boss had an idea she could be a substitute Freak Fucker, take some of the stress off me for the after-hours shows. We got her in a black latex gimp mask, one of those ones with the zipper across the front. Straight jacket, boots, strap-on, and she was good to go to fuck or be fucked. It took a little while for some of the girls to get used to her—Andi was new, after all—but she seemed determined to do something other than be a stripper or a regular escort. And I was happy for the help.

So when we went to Mexico on the winter tour, Andi came along.

I know the Boss had connections with some clinics down there. No questions asked, if you've got the cash. Andi disappeared. Xochi had her baby. I was working the after-hours show three nights a week in those little run-down theaters for six weeks by myself, getting maybe three, four of sleep a night. Had a Pez dispenser full of Cialis, which I had to stop doing once the kids got old enough to get into everything.

When she came back, she wasn't Andi anymore. She was Zipperlips.

They actually delivered her in a crate, full of fresh packing peanuts. Maybe she had been ****, I dunno. She moved with this easy, languid grace as she emerged, totally naked, from the box, and...there were zippers all over her skin. Like, a part of her. Sewn in place. She had to unzip her eyes to see. Unzip her mouth to eat or suck a cock. Unzip her tits to let her hard nipples out. Unzip her pussy to piss or fuck.

Except it went deeper than that. I could see other zippers on her body. Ones that didn't make sense to me. There was one that ran all the way from her crotch and across her navel to her sternum. A zipper that ran from her chin down to where her clavicles met, right down her throat. I got the feeling that whatever they'd done to her had been more extensive than what I could see.

I'm ready.

She signed to me. I'd taught her that. That was when I learned she couldn't speak anymore.

Well, we signed to each other, and worked out a show. Part of it would be BDSM-based. A dance on the pole where she would slide up and down, slowly revealing her nips, her pussy. After a few acrobatics, she would end up on her knees. Then she'd open the zipper on her throat.

The hole wasn't a proper vagina. It was just a raw opening to her windpipe, had cut right through her vocal cords to do it. When she tilted her head back, she could a double-ended dildo into her throat and have it come out through her mouth. The Boss liked that. Said it had possibilities for other shows. A way to change things up, if the Alligator Girl or our Giant were amenable—and, you know, after they got used to it, they admitted they could work with Zipperlips on that.

The real highlight of the show, though, was when she unzipped her pussy. She would spread her legs wide and show them what was waiting in that wet, pink labia. The other, hidden zipper. The one that when she unzipped it, led to her ass.

I'll never forget the sensation, the first time she mounted me like that, and my cock popped out of her asshole. The punters went silent. Zipperlips, she just ground her hips, feeling my dick fuck its way out of her ass, the swollen glans popping out of her little asshole again and again. Which was an endurance test for me, because the teeth of the zipper were grinding on my cock, but it was, I admit, a hell of a show.

Life was different in the sideshow after that. I think the others relaxed around her now. She was one of them. Sure, she had made herself like them, and maybe she could get surgery to put her back to almost the way she had been, back to Andi...but I don't think so. I think the changes went deeper. Don't think she ever planned on being able to go back. Had embraced being different on a level I couldn't fathom.

Zipperlips had to spend a lot of time keeping herself clean, and she still helped me backstage with the other folks, and with the babies. I won't deny that things were different. More comfortable, more casual. And how she taught me what she wanted, needed. She liked to be used. Wanted me to not ask, just bend her over a crate and unzip her cunny and jam my dick in. I remember how she used to gasp when I licked her throat-hole as I pounded her pussy, her legs wrapped around me, hips bucking, eyes rolled back in her head.

Well, the zipper-teeth had a tendency to rip the condoms to shit. Wasn't anyone's surprise when Zipperlips started to show. Punters actually seemed to like it, that swollen stomach as she gyrated on the pole. The big zipper that ran over her distended abdomen tended to accentuate her curve. Xochi didn't even seem to mind, and the rest of them, well, it sort of cemented that Zipperlips was part of the family.

I guess it hit me then. Not just the sex, but the consequences of it. The weight of responsibility. I'd been caring for those women from show to show, season to season, and they'd been caring for me. Now I had kids, babymamas, another on the way.

I'll never forget one night, when Zipperlips was about five months along. She'd sleep with Xochi and me in our bed, me squeezed in the middle, like three spoons all together. I got to looking at that swollen stomach, and the zipper that held the taut flesh together. Sometimes I'd play with the zipper pull. A little bronze thing, like a tiny fertility idol. Bes, our Fat Woman, had given her that. I was playing with it and I wondered, because I had never seen her unzip that particular zipper. Had no doubt it was functional, but the thought started to gnaw at me. What I would see.

Well, imp of the perverse. I made up my mind to tug it.

Xochi's hand clamped tight on my own. More strength than I knew she possessed. With a soft, urgent whisper in Spanish, she said one word:

No.

Well, I **** my hand to relax. And we switched it up, so that Xochi was the middle spoon from that point on. Yet for just a moment, I felt capable of doing something...truly monstrous. Just to satisfy my curiosity. I remembered how Andi had been before. I felt the responsibility. Maybe I hadn't sent her to that clinic, but I could have told her to fuck off. Instead, some sick, twisted thing inside of me had wondered what the Boss might make of her.

Jason held up the candle.

"You see, the real horror isn't what happened to Andi. It was what I was willing to do to her."

So saying, he blew out the candle. Instantly, he was bathed in darkness.