#*Sorry so late again! I suck. Busy week. I bought a car!*
—–
The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Pyotr was headed to meet his best friend for lunch.
They had met in their first semester at University, and had been inseparable for nearly a year. It was a great feeling, having a “bro” to count on, after so many years pretty much alone in high school with nobody but his sisters to confide in. It had been even worse when he came to America for school, knowing nobody on the whole continent and having to navigate a new culture along with his studies.
But Jeremy was different. He was a true friend, always willing to lend an ear, and with infinite patience for Pyotr’s sometimes-thick accent. Pyotr felt like he could tell Jeremy everything, and in fact he pretty much had done so. Sometimes they would just talk or play video games for what felt like hours, but afterward only minutes would have passed. Jeremy had suggested that they just enjoyed hanging out so much that time felt different, but Pyotr had a different theory.
Pyotr was a physics student. Jeremy was more into electronics and computer science, so sometimes he didn’t see the same things that Pyotr saw. To him, the world was made up of logic and flow charts. But Pyotr’s world was filled with uncertainty on the quantum level. And uncertainty meant possibilities. Like the possibility of proving that the differing perception of passage of time could be more than just in the mind.
With Jeremy’s help, he would do it one day. He would build a time machine.
-*-*-
Pyotr spotted his friend sitting at one of the outdoor benches and headed over. He was excited to discuss the new book he’d been reading about relativity, but a flash of red in the sun made him put that on the back burner. Petra was out today.
Petra was Jeremy’s girlfriend. They had been living together for as long as Pyotr had known them. Jeremy was completely devoted to her; he called her his Princess. It was a sweet story: they’d grown up next door, been high school sweethearts, and moved away to go to school together, escaping her cruel father and overbearing mother.
There was something sad about Petra that Pyotr could never quite put his finger on, however. Something in the way her face would go blank when she wasn’t doing anything and when nobody was talking to her. Pyotr thought maybe there was more to the story, that she’d had something really bad happen in her past, but he really didn’t want to pry.
Petra tended to have bouts of depression that kept her indoors sometimes, but when she came out on the campus it was always a little brighter of a day. The lunches she made were delicious, and just being around her made Pyotr feel a little happy. He didn’t have a crush on her himself, of course. He just liked her as a friend, and he loved to see her and Jeremy together.
“Hey, Pete,” Jeremy said, smiling and gesturing to the seat opposite himself and his girlfriend. “Have a seat. We brought extra.”
Pyotr sat down and grabbed a sandwich from a plate on the table. “Thanks. You make these, Petra?”
“She did,” Jeremy said, patting her hand on the table. “She’s been feeling a lot better lately.”
“That’s great to hear. I’m sure everyone missed you.”
Petra smiled. “Thanks, Pyotr,” she said.
“Is nothing. Jeremy, I wanted to tell you about the book I am reading.” He bit into the sandwich, taking a moment to enjoy the taste or perfectly-mixed tuna and mayo. “Mm. That’s good. So anyway, this book… it’s got some really exciting theories. The author thinks that if you could find a way to generate a strong enough neutrino bubble, you could make a small machine slide out of sync with Earth’s time, since it would bend the gravity waves around it.”
Jeremy raised a brow. “You know, I really think you’ll get it done. You understand so much more of this stuff than me.”
“Do not worry, I will still need someone to build the machine. We will do it together!”
Jeremy grinned. “You know, speaking of time machines… I think it’s about time I showed you something. But you have to keep it a secret.”
“You know I can keep a secret.”
“Well… it’s a pretty big secret. Petra, why don’t you head home while I fill my bro here in on a few things.”
-*-*-
“You are messing with me.”
“I swear I’m not. It works, I just don’t know how.”
“So you have a device that manipulates time. You have had it over one year. And you are just now telling me this?”
“It’s not exactly something we like to advertise. And I don’t use it all that often. I can’t get it to run in reverse without almost killing me, and there’s just too much risk involved. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“And you think I can figure it out?”
“Pyotr, you’re a genius. I know you can figure this stuff out. I want to lend it to you for a little while, see what you come up with.” He placed a small cardboard box on the table between them. “Never mind the wires in the back. I added them so I could plug in a control device.”
Pyotr took the box, nodding solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me. I will see what I can do.”
-*-*-
Pyotr chuckled to himself, sitting in the grass on a little hill overlooking the campus. Imagine, a second-year Comp Sci student having the secret to time control in a box. What a laugh. He’d played along to see how far Jeremy was willing to go; clearly there was some sort of punchline coming. He just didn’t know what it was yet.
The box held two items: a notebook, and a remote control. The notebook was a plain gray one with a spiral spine, and the remote was one of the old universal ones that people used to spend hours trying to set up so they wouldn’t need a second control to use a VCR.
Pyotr laughed, flipping through the notebook. According to the notes, the remote could control time. What a ludicrous idea. It worked like an old VCR, too. Pause, Play, Fast Forward, Frame Skip, Rewind… although rewind was apparently very limited.
Pyotr rolled his eyes. A device like this, if it was real, would have changed everything. It also would’ve probably either killed its user or everyone else. What with the speed of the Earth’s movement and the risk of whiplash to anyone you so much as bumped into, not to mention the sonic booms you’d leave everywhere behind you. Pyotr’s dream had been to travel from one point in time to another. This was another level of fantasy beyond it. Still, he thought, it was fun to imagine. He picked up the remote, pointed it out at the campus, and pressed Pause.
The silence was what hit him first. Nobody really notices the amount of noise they live with day to day; it’s just a background ambience. The silence washed over Pyotr like a wave, deafening and at the same time clear and relieving. His ears popped, filling with the sound of his own breathing.
Pyotr stood up and took a step. The grass where he’d been didn’t spring back up; there was a perfect impression left where he’d sat. A few yards away, a bird hung in the air, frozen on its approach to a tree branch. And down the hill, dozens of students stood perfectly still.
Not stood, he realized as he walked toward them. Very few were actually standing with both feet planted on the ground. Most were in the middle of walking from one place to another, halted mid-stride by some unknown force. Halted by Pyotr, and the remote.
“Bozhe moi,” Pyotr whispered, walking out onto the sidewalk and waving his hand in front of a student’s unblinking face. “It actually works.”
-*-*-
Pyotr was a scientist before anything else. He established a safety, starting and stopping time several times to ensure that he had the effect under control, then began taking notes on the properties of the phenomenon.
Inertia seemed to be conserved in objects almost at the moment they left contact with him. A ball thrown would stop less than an inch from his hand, hanging in the air, but would resume moving when time started. A ball placed in the air would hang there, dropping to the ground when time re-exerted itself. But if the ball was stopped and picked up, then placed somewhere else, its inertia would vanish, a puzzle that perplexed Pyotr to no end. The laws of time might be broken, but that didn’t mean the laws of thermodynamics no longer applied.
Even worse, Pyotr found that if he just nudged an object instead of grabbing it, he could change its position without changing its direction. He could push a dart into position to make it hit a bull’s-eye, or even turn it around with two fingertips to make it fly back the way it came, but the moment his hand closed around it, its motion died completely. It seemed to support the idea he’d read about with the neutrino bubble; as long as an object remained at least outside his field of effect, it behaved as normal, but once he exerted enough effect on its surface it slipped out of time with him. The effect worked the same with large objects, provided he had two hands on the object, and he wondered for a moment just how large of a thing he might manage to move, since gravity was no longer making any sort of lifting difficult. It was a lot like what he imagined it would be like to live in microgravity, except that anything he let go of would stop moving, and he couldn’t float around.
The experimentation was slow and deliberate, and Pyotr soon found himself rubbing his eyes wearily. He hadn’t had a lot of sleep the night before, and now that he’d been in and out of stopped time for a few hours he was starting to get tired. He walked back to the hill where he’d originally used the remote, leaving footprints in the grass, and laid down in the sun to take a nap.
The sun was still shining when he awoke. According to his watch, five hours had passed. He stretched and rubbed his face, then stopped in surprise. He ran his hand up and down his cheek. There was no hair growth at all. He’d been using the remote long enough for at least half a day to pass, relatively speaking, and yet his hair hadn’t grown, which seemed to indicate that he was no longer aging while he used the device, which was just impossible.
And nothing excites a theoretical physicist more than seeing the impossible.
Pyotr did every test he could think of, moving solids, liquids, and gases, measuring the movement of a sunbeam to establish that time was in fact stopped and not slowed, picking up objects to bring them out of time, and even testing whether an insect on his arm and in his hand would be stopped along with him.
There was really only one thing left to do: human experimentation.
Pyotr was dying to test how people reacted to non-temporal stimuli. He went out onto the campus again, looking around at all the students and faculty who were trying to go about their day. He had never been a big fan of unethical experimentation, of course, but then he had never held the greatest discovery in human history in his hands, either.
The basics were simple to test. Pyotr knew from Jeremy’s instructions that bumping or moving someone wouldn’t cause fatal whiplash, which was a definite concern. Changing people’s poses – an arm raised or lowered, for instance – seemed to confuse but not alarm them; they would behave as though they had experienced a twitch or muscle spasm when time started again. Moving someone to a slightly different position caused disorientation and mild dizziness. Interestingly, it was easy to move someone back to their original position and posture; Pyotr suspected it had something to do with the vacuum of displaced air where they were removed from, but the effect was strong enough that perhaps other forces were at work as well.
Checking his notes, he realized that he was going to have to be more invasive to actually view responses in the test subjects. First he tried “appearing and disappearing” – standing in the middle of a crowded area, he started time and then stopped it a second later. Several people seemed to notice that someone had been where he was, but nobody really made much of it. They didn’t fully realize what they’d seen, but anyone walking toward the place where he had appeared veered around as if avoiding an invisible person.
Auditory stimulation was less successful. Since all the noise he made was compressed into an instant, Pyotr was unable to make anyone notice more than what was probably a loud burst of sound, like a thump or a click.
However, tactile stimulus was very noticeable in his subjects. He tried tapping shoulders, nudging elbows, brushing a hand across a cheek. In all cases, the subjects felt as though someone had touched them, some even looking around for whoever it was.
Pyotr sat on a picnic table, eating french fries from an unwary student’s cafeteria tray and pondering the situation. He certainly wasn’t a Behavioral Studies major, but it was still intriguing to test people’s reactions, and the things they noticed or didn’t notice might prove useful in understanding what was going on when he used the remote.
A young couple standing under a tree nearby caught his eye. The boy was in the middle of saying something; the girl was clearly paying attention, but did not seem terribly interested. Pyotr’s mind raced with ideas for how he might test their reactions as he set the fries down and stood.
-*-*-
Ashley clenched her jaw a little tighter, fighting not to roll her eyes and holding her plastered-on smile. She really hated guys like Brad: entitled, self-absorbed, ignorant morons. Sadly, that was the price she’d have to pay if she wanted a boyfriend who could afford to give her the things she wanted. And Brad was definitely a good candidate in that respect.
All the boxes were checked off. His family was rich. He had access to his trust account. He wasn’t ugly or gross; in fact he was handsome, if you were into broad shoulders and square jawlines. Ashley preferred long hair, full lips, and a D-cup, but that was irrelevant. Besides, just because she was dating a jock didn’t mean she couldn’t play with her girlfriends when they were alone.
Still, the conversation was never-ending. It had hurt trying not to roll her eyes before when he went on about fantasy football, but now he had digressed to some backward hick rant about Mexicans and refugees. If he would just get it over with and ask her out, she could be free of this torture.
It was her own fault, she reflected. With her long blonde hair, fair skin, and thin body, she could have just flirted her way into Brad’s pants, and by extension his wallet. But that would mean putting out a lot, and she really didn’t want to do that. No, she had to be the listener, the confidante, the cute girl he could talk to. Laugh at his jokes, smile, seem interested, and he’d spend all his time boring her instead of groping her. She thought she’d found a loophole, a way out of the game, but right now she was envying some of the other girls who just acted dumb and let the guys fuck them.
She was just contemplating bailing out of the conversation when something happened. For some reason, she had a sudden picture in her mind of Brad with no shirt on. It was weird; almost like, for a split second, he’d been bare-chested, but still carried on talking to her.
Brad didn’t seem to notice anything, of course. Ashley rubbed her eyes. She must be getting tired; it wasn’t like her to have fantasies about men without-
“Hey Ash, you okay?” Brad said.
Ashley shook her head, feeling the heat in her cheeks and forehead. “I’m fine,” she lied.
“Good. Anyway, the wall will-”
Ashley took a deep breath, willing herself to stop blushing. There was no way this was happening. No way had she just fantasized about Brad Pinkton naked, with sunlight bringing out every edge and curve of his muscular body. No way had she just imagined his cock, so close she could just reach out and touch it.
A breeze or something blew by, and Ashley shivered. She could feel her nipples stiffening, poking into the padding of the push-up bra she wore to “accent” her curves. That in itself was bizarre; she usually couldn’t feel the wind through the padded cups. Even stranger, it felt warm, like someone had been rubbing and pinching her breasts instead of just the air moving across them.
The chill was barely gone when her brain messed with her again. This time, Brad was naked again, but his cock was standing at attention. It was much longer and thicker than before, with a slight upward curve. At the same time, she felt a tingling between her legs, as if something had brushed across her pussy.
She blinked, and the vision was gone. The bulge in Brad’s pants, on the other hand, was very real. She could see it outlined against his upper thigh, and it looked like her imagination wasn’t far from the truth with regards to his size.
Biting her bottom lip, Ashley stepped closer. “Hey Brad,” she heard herself say, “you wanna get outta here?”
-*-*-
Pyotr chuckled to himself. He’d had no idea that people were so easy to manipulate. Granted, it was hardly difficult to convince University students to have sex, but still, it took almost no effort at all to convince the girl, Ashley, that she was interested in her companion Brad’s body. Just a couple of flashes and a little stimulation. As for Brad, well, all Pyotr had to do was show Ashley’s breasts to him for a second and he was apparently ready to go.
Pyotr followed as they walked quickly toward the parking lot and Brad’s large black SUV. When they got in and closed the doors, he stopped time and entered the back seat. After all, a good scientist must document all the results of his experiments. Besides, what man turns down a free show?
-*-*-
Ashley moaned, leaning back in the big passenger’s seat. Brad was driving with only his left hand, taking her somewhere – she didn’t know or care where – while his right was in her panties, two big fingers pumping slowly into her pussy. She was soaking them and her panties already, although a part of her still wondered why she was even doing this.
Brad pulled her hand over and wrapped it around his dick. Ashley started stroking him without thinking about it, opening her eyes and looking over at him. He was eerily similar to her fantasy, right down to that upward curve, and he was rock hard already. She stroked a little faster, moaning again as she felt her pleasure building.
Suddenly, just as she was almost there, Brad pulled his hand away. He reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her down toward his lap and guiding her mouth down around his cock. Ashley started to pull back, groaning in annoyance at his selfishness.
She managed to get as far as the tip when something washed over her. It felt like every inch of her body was softly caressed at the same time. Her skin broke out in goosebumps, sending a shiver up her spine.
The shiver was followed by a jolt of pleasure radiating out from her crotch. Ashley moaned and sucked Brad’s cock back into her mouth, breathing fast through her nose as the haze of cumming pushed out her thoughts. By the time it passed, she found herself bobbing up and down, stroking Brad’s length with her lips, tongue, and fingers, while Brad’s hand on her head guided her to go faster and deeper.
Ashley lost track of how long she was down there, sucking, stroking, smearing Brad to the base with her spit as he tried to reach her throat. She kept her fingers in the way so he couldn’t gag her, but it was a near thing even with her hand there.
Finally, just as her jaw was getting tired, Brad pulled over and let her up. “Backseat,” he demanded, kicking off his shoes and shoving his pants down onto the floor of the cab.
Ashley pushed turned and crawled between the seats. On her way past, Brad grabbed the waist of her jeans, so she let him pull them off, revealing her ass and her little red thong.
She barely had time to get onto the seat before Brad followed her, pulling off her top and pushing her down on her back, kissing her hard and grinding his cock against the damp spot on her panties. He pushed her bra up and cupped one of her tits, squeezing it greedily, then reached down to pull her panties to the side, spreading her thighs and pressing his tip to her entrance.
“Mh.. w-wait, do you have a-” Ashley tried to object, but her words turned into cries of pleasure. Her pussy was on fire; it felt like the best vibrator in the world had just kissed her clit. She came again, shivering all over, hips bucking up reflexively.
Brad took advantage of the reflex, grabbing her by the hipbones and thrusting. Ashley cried louder as she felt herself stretch open, squeezing tight around every inch but too slick to even slow him down. Brad sank to the hilt, and Ashley could feel him pushing on the back of her passage before he pulled back and thrust in again.
-*-*-
Pyotr stopped time and adjusted himself. There was nothing worse than getting an erection when you couldn’t move to fix it, and no living man could have watched this without getting one. He shifted, stretching his legs and moving out of his hiding place on the floor of the front seat, crawling in back to get a closer look.
It still took surprisingly little “convincing” to get his subjects to keep escalating their encounter. Brad had needed none at all. Ashley, on the other hand, was clearly reluctant. When Brad shoved himself in her mouth, she had nearly ended it, but Pyotr’s intervention had overwhelmed her so much that she’d sucked him like a whore. All he’d done was trail his fingers all over her skin, then rubbed between her legs for a minute or so.
The second time Ashley had objected, Pyotr went with a more localized response. He’d moved Brad out of the way and sat, reading a book on his phone while one hand slowly and gently teased Ashley’s clitoris. He had no idea how long he’d done it for, but for Ashley it was a mere instant, and she had responded dramatically. He would have to remember that trick; women would probably appreciate a man who could make them cum in an instant.
Of course, all this observation and teasing was not without its toll. Pyotr’s cock ached in his jeans, straining to be free and leaving a little sticky spot on the inside of his thigh. He reached up and cupped Ashley’s breast, rubbing the front of his jeans while he considered the situation.
Oh well, he thought as he unzipped and started to stroke himself. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t already tainted the results of the experiment.
He knelt on the front seat, unpausing time and watching as Brad started pumping into Ashley. There was no slow build-up, either; the man went right to work, thrusting in and out, each grunt and thrust met with a cry or a moan from the girl.
They clumsily pulled her bra off, and Brad arched his back so he could suck on Ashley’s little pink nipples while he drove into her harder. Ashley’s face shifted rapidly between a masque of pleasure and a wince of pain, and Pyotr had to wonder if she was used to such forceful treatment from such a well-endowed man. Something told him she wasn’t, and the thought of it made his own dick throb in his hand.
Pyotr matched Brad’s thrusts with his own strokes, watching as the man pulled Ashley’s legs around his waist and started grinding harder into her, crushing her body under his own and moaning next to her ear.
“Baby here it comes,” Brad moaned. His thrusts got faster and became more erratic.
Ashley, apparently in the midst of her own climax, grabbed his sides and pushed back. Brad got the hint and pulled out, grabbing his cock and rapidly pumping it and groaning loudly.
Pyotr stopped time and crawled in the back seat again. It seemed that his timing was perfect; there was an inch of white cum protruding from Brad’s cock already, frozen in the air. Pyotr turned away from him and knelt over Ashley’s body.
Even in disarray like this, she was quite beautiful. Her hair had spilled across the seat under her like a golden sheet, and the sweat on her skin caught the sun in a way that made it seem like a spotlight was shining on her. Her small breasts were thrust toward the heavens; she’d been panting and frozen in the middle of a deep breath. And down between her legs, her shaved pussy glistened, coated in her own lubricants.
Pyotr’s breath caught in his throat; he realized he was still stroking his cock and was dangerously close to cumming. In fact, there was no time to stop. Stroking faster, he shot hard; streams of cum flew from him and froze in mid-air, hovering over Ashley’s face and breasts.
Pyotr sat back on his heels, breathing hard. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then took a minute to catch his breath.
There were three long strands of fluid extending from where he’d been and two shorter ones. Pyotr made a note to determine the relationship between speed and distance travelled when objects left his control, since it suggested a set amount of relative time until things froze. He readjusted, zipped up, and got into the front seat, once more peeking carefully to watch Brad and Ashley as he started time.
Pyotr’s cum hit Ashley first, landing on her face and breast with an audible splat and making her flinch in surprise. Brad’s load followed, thoroughly covering her chest and stomach.
“Whew, babe, that was great,” Brad said, leaning back on the side door.
Ashley wiped Pyotr’s cum off her face and looked up at Brad. “Y-yeah… I guess it was, wasn’t it?”
Tag: Non-consensual
[F] – Mirror Monster – Part 7 [Fsub] [bd] [nc] [sci-fi] [Tentacles]
Taylor was already waiting at a table by the time I got to the small cafe she had texted me about. I had been attempting to contact the monster the entire time during my car ride but it didn’t seem to answer the way it did earlier. And now that I thought about it, it really only seemed to talk when I was really horny. I had a hunch that it’s ability to talk and control me had something to do with that.
Entering the cafe I found it to be a fairly dark setting. There were private tables scattered throughout the small room that allowed for people to have private conversations. The lights were dim, and the walls were made of a dark brick that sort of set the mood for the place. The floor was a dark hard wood, and only made the place see more cozy. I could see why Taylor picked this place. It had no mirrors on the walls but would also allow us to talk in private without other customers listening. I went towards the back of the cafe and saw Taylor sitting in a small booth by herself with a coffee in front of her. She looked uncomfortable. Her face was strained a little, and she kept fidgeting shifting back and forth in her seat. I could see her jaw clenching as if she was trying to endure something. I didn’t even have to ask what was wrong. I already knew.
Timebenders 2: Channel-Surfing, Chapter 8 [timestop nc mf]
*Sorry for the late post! It slipped my mind yesterday. Enjoy!*
——-
“So it was an accident?” Petra asked, peering down at the screen. “That doesn’t seem very likely.”
Jake shook his head. “Something’s wrong with this. It says I… he… was displaying ‘erratic behavior’ and then just ran out into the street.”
Petra sighed. “There’s just not enough information.”
Jake leaned back in his chair and stretched. Petra’s hunch had been correct; a quick trip to one of the library’s computers had yielded an obituary with the date of death for his other self. There were a couple news articles, too, but the details were sparse.
“Hey wait!” Petra pointed at the article. “Scroll down a little.”
“He is survived by his wife, Sarah, and daughter Petra?”
“I’m alive!” Petra exclaimed. “So where the hell am I?”
“I dunno, Pet. Your room in the house looked like a shrine. Layers of dust, nothing changed since high school. You must have left in a hurry.”
“So where the hell did I go?”
-*-*-
Petra’s eyes snapped open. It took her a moment to realize that she’d been woken up by a loud noise; a door slamming open. It took her another moment to remember that she was tied up in an RV.
Jeremy barely even looked at her. He stormed past to the little table that he used as a workbench and ripped off his time control glove. “Shit,” he said. “Shit shit shit shit shit.”
“Whassa matter, dickhead?” Petra asked, shifting herself up into a more dignified sitting position. “You walk in on your dad blowing the mailman or something?”
Jeremy yanked the wires out of his sleeve and put them on the table, along with the little box that had once been Petra’s father’s time-controlling remote control. “Petra, please, can we not do this? I have to fix this… Maybe I can go back if I do.”
“Fix what? Did your shitty solder job fall apart on you?”
“YES!” Jeremy yelled, slamming his fist on the table. Petra flinched. “Yes, okay? The solder failed, a wire came loose, and things… didn’t go well, okay?”
Petra sneered. “Good. I hope you get caught, and they throw you away for life.”
Jeremy growled and shoved his chair back, raising his hand. He was close enough to reach her, and Petra closed her eyes, but the slap never came. When she opened them again, Jeremy was lowering his arm slowly into his lap.
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, looking down. “Alright? I’m fucking sorry for how this all went down. It wasn’t supposed to… well, things were supposed to go different, that’s all.”
Petra frowned. There was something in Jeremy’s voice that suddenly had her worried. “What happened?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he said. “If I can’t fix it.”
-*-*-
Jeremy worked for a couple of hours, and finally thought he’d managed to fix his glove. He went to sleep in the back of the RV, and dreamed of nothingness. Some hours later, he woke up, feeling completely unrested. A radio was playing quietly, and someone was crying. Someone young, female…
“Oh god, Petra,” he whispered, pushing himself violently off the bed and running out to her.
Petra was sitting on the floor, which made sense since she couldn’t really go anywhere. Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her face.
“Petra, I-”
“Is it true?” she asked. “The alarm turned on the radio. There was a news report. Is he really-”
“Yes,” Jeremy said softly, stepping toward her. “Yes, Petra, it’s true. Your father is dead. I tried to save him, but-”
Petra’s sobs broke out into a wail, cutting him off. She slumped back and slid down the wall, moving her head forward and back, thumping her skull on the faux wood paneling.
“Baby, baby, stop,” Jeremy said, kneeling down and gathering her into his arms. “You’ll hurt yourself. He wouldn’t have wanted you to hurt yourself.”
He wasn’t sure what to expect next. Holding Petra hadn’t been something he’d planned; it had just happened. His girl was in pain, and he needed to help. But when she got heavier, and he realized she was actually leaning into his grip, Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat.
“Shush now,” he said, stroking her beautiful hair. “You’ll be okay. Let me take care of you.”
Petra’s head bowed, and her sobbing softened to an occasional sniffle. Jeremy kept holding her. He would hold her as long as she needed him to.
After all, that was what a good boyfriend did.
-*-*-
The next few weeks were difficult. Jeremy reinforced his glove with hardier materials so he could be certain it wouldn’t ever fail again. At his request, Petra penned a couple of letters; one to her mother and one to the police. They were heartfelt and mostly true, stating that she had left home and wouldn’t be coming back for a while but that she was healthy and safe.
Of course, attending the funeral was impossible, but Jeremy got some pictures and a copy of the obituary for Petra so she could say goodbye. After that, she seemed to calm down a little, accepting that she would be staying where she was. Jeremy set her up with a light ankle chain so she could move around, even letting her get outside a little, but not quite reaching far enough to mess around in the driver’s area. Never could be too careful.
Days turned into weeks, and Jeremy eventually managed to get them a little house on an acreage outside the city. The place was a little run-down, but after a few days’ worth of time-stopped repairs and several trips to the hardware store and the library, Jeremy soon had it looking like a place a person could live in. He kept the door locked and bars on the windows when he was out, so Petra could roam freely about, and lengthened the chain he’d used in the RV so she could spend time outdoors when he was home.
Jeremy experimented extensively with the timeglove. He found that he was able to jump ahead or back by fractions of a second, like a frame skip on a DVR. He was also able to fast forward or rewind by about ten seconds. Any longer than that, and he started feeling intense pain in his skull, like a migraine with teeth.
Petra turned to books to keep herself distracted. She read anything and everything that Jeremy brought for her, and soon the house had a very extensive library. Fiction, History, Science… she even started studying for her GED. Jeremy meanwhile kept going to school during the day as if nothing had happened, claiming to have found a job and officially moving out of his parents’ house. Before long, they both held high school diplomas and were ready to go to college.
Jeremy had worried a lot about what would come next. He didn’t want his princess to live locked up in a tower, but how could he trust her? Still, she seemed much more relaxed than she had once been, save for the sad look in her eyes.
He was lying in bed, running over the problem in his mind for the millionth time, when Jeremy heard his door creak open.
The house was large enough to be comfortable, and Jeremy had set Petra up with her own bedroom. She had slept there every night without fail. This night had been like any other, save for a thunderstorm that was blowing a cool breeze through the windows. It was a welcome change to the usual hot summer nights.
Jeremy’s back was to the door. He glanced at the timeglove on his nightstand, but something inside told him to wait. Letting his eyes close, Jeremy slowed his breathing and relaxed, listening to the patter of the rain on the roof.
There was only the darkness and the rain for what felt like a long time. Jeremy was starting to think maybe he’d dreamed the sound when there was a shifting and a squeak of bedsprings behind him.
Petra slid into the bed and curled up, pressing her forehead between Jeremy’s shoulder blades. He could feel the heat coming off of her, smell her sweet scent, hear the soft rush of her breath as it got slower and quieter.
Jeremy turned over, reaching around her and pulling her in closer, tilting his head and kissing her forehead. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, so Jeremy kissed her temple and her cheek, brushing her hair back from her face.
A sliver of moonlight shone through the window, lighting Petra’s skin up in a pale glow. The light was dim enough that her freckles were hidden, making her look like a fragile porcelain doll. Jeremy wiped a tear away from her eye, then leaned in again and kissed her soft lips. At the same time, he slid his hand down her back, pulling her hips in against his own.
Petra closed her eyes, and Jeremy shifted against her, savoring the warm feeling of her crotch moving along the hardening bulge in his shorts. He kissed her again, cupping his hand over her ass and sliding his other hand slowly up the front of the shirt that she was wearing.
Her skin was soft and warm. He already knew that; he’d touched her before. But somehow, it felt worlds better now, without stopping time, without tying her or binding her. Just her flesh and his hand, trailing over her ribs and gingerly up the swell of her breast.
Jeremy continued kissing his princess, noting a little quiver in her lip when his fingertips found her nipple. He circled it, teasing the skin with gentle friction, while his hips humped slowly against her. She was only wearing panties down there, and her bare legs touching his were driving him wild with eager anticipation.
Kissing down her jaw and neck, Jeremy slowly lifted Petra’s shirt and exposed her breasts. In the moonlight they looked every bit as pale and precious as her face had. She was a beautiful doll, his to hold and to protect… and now, his to enjoy, as well. He leaned in and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking softly while his right hand slid down and under the waistband of her panties.
Petra hadn’t been able to groom as well as she usually did, and her copper mound had grown thicker than the last time he’d seen it. He ran his fingers through the soft, downy hair, seeking the source of the heat he could feel rippling off of her. She made a tiny little sound when he found her slit, not really a moan but maybe something working toward one.
Jeremy gently rolled her onto her back, moving to suckle at her other breast while he slowly rubbed up and down along her, learning the feel of every fold and curve. He pushed a little harder at the top where he knew her clit was supposed to be, and was awarded with a soft little whine.
Pulling back grudgingly from her breast, Jeremy lifted himself to his knees and started tugging her panties down. Petra lay still, letting him lift her hips and slide the little garment down her legs until it was completely off. He lifted it to his face and inhaled deeply, filling his sinuses with her sweet musky scents, then set them aside, letting his eyes scan slowly up her body.
Petra lay with her long, smooth legs partly open. Her coppery muff shone almost as brightly as her skin. Her shirt was still pushed up to her collarbones, exposing her flat tummy and perfect breasts. Her hair pooled about her like fire, and her face had a pure beauty normally reserved for true innocents and beauty queens. Even her closed eyelids made Jeremy’s heart jump in his chest, to say nothing of his cock jumping in his shorts, which he removed almost without thinking about it.
Kneeling between her legs, Jeremy lowered himself down close and kissed her once more. “I love you,” he whispered, reaching down and moving to position himself against her opening.
He thrust his hips and slipped along her folds, causing Petra to wince. “Sorry,” Jeremy said, stroking her cheek and lining himself up again. This time, he wiggled the head against her until he felt it begin to move inside, then pushed more slowly.
She was tight, so tight he almost couldn’t get it in. Jeremy leaned on her, gaining ground a fraction of an inch at a time until he started to feel damp warmth. He pulled back a little, using the head of his cock to lubricate Petra’s vice-like grip, then began to push down once more.
It took a few tries, each time going deeper and pulling back with more of the wetness from inside her, but finally Jeremy felt the heat of Petra’s flesh near the base of his cock and her thighs against his own. He moaned in pleasure, staying there and leaning down on top of her, pressing his bare chest to hers and kissing her firmly. His cock spasmed and twitched inside her, reacting to her heat and grip.
After a moment of catching his breath, Jeremy began moving once more. Bracing himself on the bed, he pulled his hips back until he was halfway out and then pushed in again. He moved slowly, pushing as deep as her position allowed. He wished he could get deeper; hell, he wished he could lose himself inside her. But for now, since Petra was laying on her back, he would take what he could get.
Soon, Jeremy had worked up to a steady rhythm. He watched entranced as his princess’s body bounced slowly to the rhythm of his hips, the sway of her breasts and the swish of her hair, the way her eyebrows pulled inward when he pushed a little harder. He sped up a little, arching his back and taking one of Petra’s pale, perfect nipples in his mouth once more and suckling at it, trying to make her moan for him.
Petra didn’t moan, but she did tighten up around him.
Jeremy kept pumping into her, but the pressure coupled with the excitement crept up on him. A rolling shiver slid up his spine, making him jerk his hips a little, and he realized he was cumming. He knew he should pull out or something, but he found his body acting on its own, thrusting down hard against her while he groaned in pleasure.
Panting, Jeremy kissed Petra once more. He lifted his hips, carefully easing his sensitive and softening organ out of her and drawing a little gasp at the final jolt of contact. He smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling, then rolled off of her and onto his side once more.
Jeremy let himself fall back asleep, secure in the knowledge that, at last, she was his.
-*-*-
Petra waited a long time before she came back to herself. She knew that the moment she did, the moment she allowed herself to feel, she would start to cry, and the last part of her that was still proud refused to allow Jeremy to witness that.
As soon as she was certain that he was asleep, she breathed a long sigh and curled up with her back toward him. Tears rolled down her face, and her stomach hurt from holding back the sobs that wanted to come. She wrapped her arms around her knees and squashed them against her breasts, telling herself silently that this was what she had to do. This was how she could survive.
She had been laying in her own bed, listening to the rain and the thunder, when a sort of emptiness had risen beneath her, a gaping maw about to swallow her whole. It was like it finally clicked in her head: she was alone, she had no hope, and nobody was coming for her. Her father was dead, her mother didn’t care about her, and her captor had the power to do whatever he wanted.
She had thought that maybe, if she showed him some warmth, he would be kind in return. She kept telling herself that she had gone to his bed hoping to be held, and that him using her body was unexpected. Unfortunately, she was having trouble believing it.
She felt dirty, like a whore who sells herself for nothing more than a roof over her head. She had betrayed her memory of her father, the only man she had ever truly loved, and proved that she never deserved him to begin with.
Still, she had seen Jeremy’s temper flare when he didn’t get his way. She knew it was only a matter of time before he started hurting people. Maybe if she gave him what she wanted, he would calm down. Maybe he would stop short of doing any real damage to anyone else.
Maybe she could make her life worthwhile, somehow.
[F]ort Bragg was good 2 [m]e
I drove through the night from Florida and got to NC just in time to take my friend to her very last chemo appointment in her breast cancer battle. She finished the treatment, we went home and took a very long nap together in bed. Breastfriends. Now that she’s done stealing the spotlight and faking cancer for attention, I can finally grow my hair back out and end my virtue signaling for pity sex campaign. Here is where I’d like to mention how COMPLETELY INSATIABLY HORNY I’d gotten in those weeks in Florida. Boyfriend and I only managed to have very quiet sex a handful of times while in Florida together, as we were staying with his entire family. No nookie-nookie for me, at least… not the way I like it. I tried arranging us some fun while we were there, but all the good ones I liked couldn’t host us/me so it was moot. The ones who could host inevitably came across too aggressively, too pushy, or threw red flags up. I ended up begging boyfriend to buy me a vibrator from a sex shop so I could masturbate in the car a few times a day and relieve some of the pressure. I lasted approximately 2 weeks without a vibrator. I can go months without sex with less panic and attitude.
In Bloom, Part II – [Mf][nc][abduction][anal][breeding]
Jason struggled getting through the rest of the day. After the first two periods, he stopped worrying about Monica being discovered; she was quite obedient. The excitement was harder to manage. Between replaying what happened earlier and her smell faintly wafting from the closet, he had a lot of difficulty focusing on his lesson plan.
The school used a staggered schedule, so today was one of the days that ended two periods early. He only had 30 minutes left to endure before he could start putting his extraction plan into action. As the students in the current period were working on their essays, Jason started sketching out the plan to identify any potential trouble spots.
The first part was easy. He was going to grab one of the large boxes and a dolly from the storeroom. Monica was a fairly small girl and he was pretty sure she’d fit in one of those boxes that the new chairs for the library came in. He’d have to fold down his back seat to get the box to fit in his small car, but it should work.
Timebenders 2: Channel-Surfing, Chapter 7 [timestop nc mf]
It didn’t take Jake too long to find Sarah’s missing undergarments. They were hidden behind a plant in the living room. He wound time back to the moment that Sarah had entered the bathroom and put them back on her, then returned to his seat to let things play out, keeping an eye on everything he could.
Of course, no one else really noticed anything amiss about what had just happened. Or if they did, they stayed quiet about it. People tended to do that, he’d noticed, when unexplainable things are going on. The difference was, Jake could explain them.
It didn’t take long for the mysterious guest to strike again. Jake noticed a movement and turned his head just in time to see Sarah’s breasts fall out of her top, flashing everyone present.
“Shit!” Sarah said, crossing her arms to cover herself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Jake stopped time right there. Carefully, he wound the tape backward, watching his wife’s body move.
Sarah’s breasts rose slowly, as if drifting underwater. They pressed inward, and Jake felt a jarring sort of tug on his mind. The feeling passed, and Sarah was again fully dressed.
“Huh,” Jake said to himself, pausing things again. He let time flow forward as slowly as he could.
There was a definite break-point where it happened. One moment Sarah was covered, and the next she wasn’t. But Jake was unable to get into the exact moment when it had happened. It made sense, since it had happened outside of the flow of time, but it was maddening.
Jake considered the situation, leaning in to look at the handprints that held his wife’s breasts in the air. He couldn’t get into the stopped moment to challenge the intruder. He couldn’t stop anything from happening. He could, however, do some damage control.
“Small hands,” he commented to himself, touching his own palms over the prints in Sarah’s flesh. “But not girl-small. You’re a man, I think.” He smoothed out the prints as gently as he could and pulled the dress back up over her shoulders.
This time, when Jake let time start, Sarah just shivered as if she’d been touched. He couldn’t stop that, but he could at least keep the worst of it at bay, until he found out who was doing this.
When he found out, the worst would come back around again.
– – –
Jeremy listened on his earpiece, disappointed that there was no reaction to his baring of Mrs. Stevens’ tits. Maybe she caught it in time and covered up, he thought, but that seemed like a hell of a feat. Still, they were ignoring him. This wouldn’t do at all.
What he really needed to do was something that couldn’t be covered up. Nothing dramatic enough for the others to get curious, but enough that Mr. Stevens would feel threatened and helpless. Stopping time, Jeremy returned to the dinner party and leaned on the wall to think.
He could leave notes around, that might be interesting. But it just felt like a coward’s way out. What he really needed to do was make the man feel like he couldn’t protect himself or his friends. It was a shame that he’d already gotten off on Sarah’s thighs, or else he could have done some more mischief with the women’s’ bodies. Now it would be at least twenty minutes until he would be ready for anything like that again, and longer if he wanted to leave a lot of “evidence”. That was time he really didn’t have.
Jeremy smirked. What was he thinking? There was no such thing as “no time” for him, not anymore. He had all the time in the world. Whistling a tune, he got up and walked into the kitchen. A snack and a little patience was all he needed, and then he’d be ready to go.
– – –
“Beautiful,” Jeremy breathed, admiring his work. “Simply beautiful.”
He wasn’t sure how long he’d waited, but after his snack, sitting in the Wexlers’ silent home had grown boring fast. He’d pulled out Natalia and Sarah’s breasts and sat staring at them for a while before he got his latest idea. Of course, it wasn’t really something that would be noticed. There was no way he could leave them like this. But still, it was pretty fun.
Sarah and Natalia were completely nude. Jeremy had undressed them and carried them upstairs to the Wexlers’ bedroom, then set about posing them in a few of his favorite positions. He’d made them go down on each other, then posed them on the bed doing a sixty-nine. His latest work had them laying face to face, with Natalia’s legs wrapped around Sarah’s waist as if they were in the process of a particularly vigorous strap-on fucking. He’d even managed to move their faces into something resembling orgasmic bliss.
He’d thought about dressing the women up in something slutty, but it just seemed like a lot of hassle. Hell, re-dressing them after he was done posing them was going to be a pain in the ass.
Still, it did need to be done. Eventually. Jeremy climbed up on the bed and unwrapped Natalia’s legs, taking a moment to run his hand along the warm, smooth skin of her thigh. He pulled Sarah up and off of her, leaving her in mid-air like something from a possession movie.
It was really incredible, he thought, looking down at Natalia’s body. Here was a woman, one of his neighbors, one of the hottest women he’d met, completely naked and spread open like some kind of whore. He could do whatever he wanted, see whatever he wanted. His head felt hot and tight, rushing with excitement and power.
And then there was Sarah. She was one of those hidden hotties, the ones who don’t flaunt it. He’d never again have to wonder who they were, because now he could just stop time and have a peek. Jeremy laid on the bed next to Natalia, rubbing her thigh and looking up at the amazon beauty floating above them. His dick was so hard, it almost hurt.
“Oh yeah!” Jeremy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. He’d been so distracted playing with his dolls, he’d almost forgotten what he was here for. Unzipping and pulling his cock out, he grinned. “So, ladies,” he said, waving it at them, “who wants a taste?”
A couple of moves and turns later, Jeremy had both Sarah and Natalia down on the bed on their hands and knees. He sat between them, leaning on the headboard and pulling Natalia’s lips and tongue up and down the side of his shaft while Sarah unknowingly stared longingly up at him.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. S, are you jealous?” Jeremy chuckled, reaching for her head. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Sarah didn’t seem to mind, so Jeremy pulled her in toward Natalia’s open mouth and outstretched tongue, almost making them kiss. With a little manual encouragement, Sarah’s own mouth was soon in a similar pose, and the both of them were pressed to opposite sides of Jeremy’s aching meat.
Moving their heads proved almost impossible without more hands, but Jeremy got a good rhythm going by holding them still and pumping his hips. Warm lips and tongues enveloped him, sending shivers up his spine and goosebumps down his arms.
He pulled them together hard when he came, humping against their cheeks and shooting his goo between them. Sarah’s head slipped out of his grip and pushed upward, smearing the cum that was frozen in the air across her face and taking the last spurt right in the mouth. Jeremy groaned and shook, laying back and panting while the pleasure faded away.
“Now there’s a mess you can’t ignore,” he said, looking down at Sarah’s face. It was going to be a bitch to get her dressed again without smearing that everywhere, but he could always go slow.
Some jobs, after all, were worth doing well.
– – –
Jake felt a twinge in the back of his mind. He was starting to feel the stops when they happened. It was almost like the world skipped a beat. Maybe if it kept happening, he could do something to defend against it.
Sarah and Natalia both gasped in shock at whatever sensations had overtaken them. Jake stopped time as quickly as he could, turning to look at them both.
It was obvious that something had happened. Both women’s hair was messed up from some sort of manhandling, and Natalia’s lipstick was smeared onto her cheek. Sarah, on the other hand…
Sarah was a mess. Whoever it was that was messing with them, it was definitely a male. Jake’s wife’s face was smeared with what was obviously someone’s cum, and there was a look of disgust on her face that made him suspect her tongue was similarly violated.
Growling in frustration, Jake got up and went to the bathroom to fetch a hairbrush, some tissues, and a box of wet wipes. When he returned, he wound time back to the moment that everything went wrong and got to work.
It took a while to clean them up. When he was done, Jake had a small mountain of wipes to get rid of and a black cloud hanging over his head. He’d scraped what he could off Sarah’s tongue, shuddering in revulsion at the necessity of the act. With any luck, she wouldn’t notice much. And with even more luck, Jake would be able to pull himself out of time along with the intruder soon and catch him in the act. He just needed a little more time.
– – –
“ARGH!” Jeremy yelled in frustration, kicking the little trash can as hard as he could. It flew about half a foot and stopped, hanging in the air with little wadded-up tissues frozen in the act of flying out of it.
All this time. Hours now, if you included that nap he’d taken on Mrs. Stevens’ chest after he came on her face. And all he’d managed to do was mildly inconvenience the man. He’d fucking cleaned it up!
Jeremy stormed out of the bathroom and back to the dinner table. Natalia looked a little uncomfortable, and Sarah was taking a pretty long-looking drink of wine. That was it. No confusion, no chaos. Nothing.
Stomping around the table, Jeremy yanked Sarah out of her chair onto her feet. “You wanna clean everything up, huh?” he said angrily, yanking Sarah’s dress up and baring her ass. “Fucking clean this up!”
He bent her forward, pushing her thighs apart and reaching down to unzip his pants. His dick was already hard, and with a little work bending Sarah’s legs Jeremy soon had himself positioned at her entrance, rubbing against the warm folds of skin there.
It was more difficult than it looked in the movies to shove himself inside her. On the first couple tries, Jeremy slipped and shoved himself between her legs. Grumbling in frustration, he took his dick in his hand and wiggled it against her, moving up and down until he found the place where he could slip inside. He eased the head in until he was certain he wouldn’t fall out this time, then grasped Sarah’s hips and thrust forward again.
The sensation was amazing, like nothing he’d ever imagined. Even Natalia’s eager mouth hadn’t compared to the feeling of Sarah’s hot, warm flesh wrapped snugly around him. Jeremy groaned, holding himself inside her, wiggling until he was certain he was all the way inside.
“That’s right,” he said, pulling back a little and shoving in again. “You’re mine. Anyone I want is m-ngh- mine.” He ran his hands up Sarah’s back, pushing the dress up further and grabbing hold of her waist. His thrusts became rhythmic as the anger was replaced with pleasure. “You. Mrs. Wexler. P-Petra. Anyone.”
Jeremy could feel pleasure building, but it quickly dropped off. He tried thrusting harder and faster, but the feeling didn’t last. Grumbling, he pulled back and looked down at what he’d done.
Sarah stood bent at the waist with her legs splayed wide open. Her dress was up around her ribcage, and from behind Jeremy could now very clearly see her pussy. It was gaping open, shoved in every direction by his thoughtless use of her.
“Shit,” he said, sticking a couple fingers into her. He could get them in without even touching her walls. “There’s gotta be some way to-”
The idea came to him like divine inspiration. Jeremy grinned and got down on his knees, going to work. He rubbed and teased at Sarah’s pussy, dragging his fingers along her outer folds and inner walls, smearing the moisture he found until she glistened. He pulled back her skin to find her clit, tickling it with his fingertips. From what he knew so far, this much stimulation would give Sarah an instant orgasm when she awoke from her stopped state. And Jeremy knew what would happen to her body when she had it.
He stood again and moved her, bracing her hands on the table before sliding himself into her once more. He pressed in on her stomach, shifting her insides to wrap more snugly around his cock, and then started moving back and forth once more. He wanted to have a good rhythm for this.
Once he was going at a good pace, Jeremy pointed the transmitter of his timeglove at Sarah and pulled her out of time.
Her pussy tightened immediately, snapping like a vice around Jeremy’s dick. It felt like she was rippling inside, milking his shaft and pulling it into her deeper. Sarah gasped, shocked and confused by her situation, then tensed all over. Her head started to turn, and Jeremy froze her once again the moment her face started to come into view.
“Ho-holy fuck,” he breathed, shaking all over. He was still thrusting into Sarah’s now very wet opening, but the sensation of her gripping him like that had been overwhelming. He’d almost blown it the moment she’d clenched around him.
Jeremy leaned over Sarah’s body, pulling down the front of her dress and grasping at her tits. He buried his face in her neck where she wouldn’t see it, then pulled her out of time once more.
Sarah was still cumming even as she tried to push him off of her. Her legs were shaking and it felt like he was going to get sucked inside of her. She made a noise of protest, but it was drowned out by Jeremy’s groan of pleasure as he started to cum inside of her.
Sarah screamed in anger and shoved herself back, throwing Jeremy off in mid-spurt. He stopped her in time as he flew, but it didn’t do anything to cushion the blow of his ass hitting the hardwood floor.
“Owww,” Jeremy complained, rubbing his aching tailbone and getting slowly to his feet. “Fuck, I shoulda tied you down.”
Jeremy stopped and shook his head. What was he talking about? Tying a woman down and fucking her? This was too much. He’d been a virgin a minute ago, and now he was… something else.
He grabbed a napkin and wiped his dick off, then turned to look at Sarah. She was halfway between bent and standing, and she looked ready to kill someone. Her ass was a little red – obviously he’d been thrusting harder than he thought – and there was a stream of white droplets arcing back from her ass along the path of his unexpected flight.
“Too far,” he said, shaking his head again. Tying a woman up and then waking her up to use her body was a little too much. Jeremy resolved to be far more invisible in the future. He gathered the drops out of the air with his napkin and put it in the trash can, then lowered Sarah’s dress again and set her in her chair. Making sure nobody was looking in her direction, he put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands. Maybe she would think she had fallen asleep. Of course, she had cum dripping out of her and smeared across her ass, but hell, maybe her husband would clean that up, too.
Jeremy stepped back and left the room. He needed to think about this. He’d just had sex! With a real woman! Granted, it was his girlfriend’s mother, not what he’d really wanted for his first time. And she hadn’t known it was happening. And she’d fought when she found out. But it still counted! It was sex. It was real. And he wanted more.
– – –
Jake felt another twinge. It was almost long enough for him to grab onto and stop time, but not quite. He was thinking about how he might get a better grip on the moment when he was startled out of his train of thought by a scream.
Sarah sat bolt upright in her chair, shoving back from the table and kicking her legs. Her eyes were wide with shock, and she whipped her head back and forth, looking around the room angrily.
“Sarah?” Natalia asked. “What is wrong?”
“I- I thought-” Sarah swallowed, visibly deflating in her chair. “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Wow…”
Jake stopped time and slammed his fist on the table. He knew. Even without checking, he knew. Still, he had to see for himself. He stood and pulled Sarah from her seat, moving her to sit in the air above the table. Carefully, lifting the fabric away from her skin, he pulled up her dress to see what had happened.
She was wet down there, for sure. She had probably been made to cum by the intruder. But something else reflected the light, and Jake leaned in to look closer. He spread Sarah’s legs, then softly pushed open her labia.
There was no question. There was cum inside her. Whoever it was had just fucked his wife. They took her, and fucked her, and probably pulled her out of time to feel it.
“Dammit,” Jake muttered. “Dammit dammit DAMMIT.” He pulled Sarah’s dress back down over the scene of the crime, sitting in his chair again. This shit was escalating fast, too fast.
Jake pulled Sarah back into her chair, then got up and walked outside. He walked around the house, then around his own. He checked every yard on the street, every window with a view of Saul’s place. He broke into homes, checking living rooms and bedrooms, looking for someone clutching a universal remote. There was nothing. The Thompsons were having dinner. The Smiths were fucking in their laundry room. That Jeremy kid was still playing some video game with an earpiece in, no doubt calling some 14 year old a nazi jew lizard for beating him at it or something. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Whoever this guy was, he was covering his tracks.
Jake returned to the dinner table, cleaning his wife up a little – there was some on her thighs and ass, making her dress stick – and then started time again and tried his best to convince her that she’d just nodded off. Natalia suggested that they all retire to the living room for a much stiffer drink. Jake was the only one who seemed to notice how she looked at him when she said “stiffer,” and they all agreed that drinks were a good idea.
Once more, maybe twice. Then he might be ready. He could catch the asshole who was hurting his wife and had stolen his daughter. If the price to get Petra back was letting her mother be raped at the dinner table, he was willing to pay it. Whoever was doing it would be paying even more.
– – –
“This really isn’t scaring you at all, is it?” Jeremy asked, considering Jake’s frozen face. “I’ll have to do something more drastic. But first…”
Jeremy turned to look around. The diners had all moved into the living room, and Mrs. Wexler was in the kitchen pouring some drinks. Natalia. Jeremy sauntered in her direction, letting his eyes take her in.
She was leaning forward just a little, pouring rum into a glass of what looked like cola. The amber-colored liquid hung in the air between bottle and glass, catching the light like a cascade of jewels. It was really quite beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as Natalia’s ass, stretching the back of her little dress enough that a person could see where her panties were, if she had been wearing any.
Jeremy pulled up the back of that little dress, exposing her ass. It was round and tight, and the simple act of brushing his hand across it had Jeremy’s cock twitching in excitement. He ran both hands over it, slowly, squeezing and rubbing those perfect cheeks.
“Fuck, this is incredible,” Jeremy whispered reverently. “It’s almost a shame to do it. You don’t mind, though, do you?”
His hands slid around her body, moving up and cupping her breasts through the thin material of the dress. At the same time, Jeremy moved forward, pressing his crotch against Natalia’s ass and grinding slowly against her. “No, of course you don’t mind,” he said, pulling down the front of her dress, squeezing and playing with her breasts. “Besides, it’ll only take a moment.”
Jeremy lifted his new toy off the ground, turning her and sitting her on the kitchen island that had been standing behind them. He leaned in, standing between her thighs and sucking on her nipple while he rolled up the front of her skirt and pushed down his pants.
It took a little rubbing and feeling, but before long he was parting her folds and slipping the first inch inside of her. Jeremy groaned with pleasure, reaching around and grabbing Natalia’s ass to hold her steady while he eased inch after inch of himself past her entrance until his hips were tight against her upper thighs.
He looked down, and his heart skipped a beat. What a view! Mrs. Wexler’s perfect tits, then the messy folds of her dress, and below that… her completely bald mound, and her pussy wrapped tight around the shaft of his dick!
“Lay down, baby,” Jeremy said, placing a hand between Natalia’s breasts and pushing her onto her back. He gripped her waist, pulling back a little before pushing in again, and again moaned as the last inch of him was swallowed up inside her. She was hot and wet, and he didn’t think it was possible for his dick to fit anywhere more perfectly.
Jeremy started pumping into her, slowly at first, but picked up speed pretty quickly. He put a palm low on her stomach, and found that he was able to keep her from getting too loose by pressing down on her. He could feel a pressure under his hand, the movement of his dick as it plunged into her again and again.
Lifting her legs, Jeremy started thrusting harder into Natalia’s pussy. His impacts forced her away, and he had to use his free hand to keep her steady. All the while, she smiled up at him dreamily, completely unaware of his use of her.
Feeling his climax building, he pulled back. In one quick move, Jeremy pulled Natalia down on her knees in front of him like she had been earlier in the evening. He moved her hands to the outside of her tits and held them there, sliding his slimy, throbbing rod in between and thrusting once more, sliding in and out of the cavern of her cleavage.
He was cumming in seconds, moaning and pumping, and before long there was a thick river of white fluid filling the bottom of that canyon. He stepped back, panting, and sat down on the floor, taking a moment to catch his breath.
This was his life now. Anything he wanted, with anyone he wanted, anytime he wanted. Jeremy smiled to himself, leaning over and reaching between Natalia’s tits, pushing them out of the way so he could see his load on her skin.
He smeared and rubbed it in, coating Natalia’s breasts in a transparent layer of himself, then stood her up again. Her dress was wrinkled, but fit back in place easily enough. After a moment’s thought, he pulled the front down a little; flashing a little nipple would draw Jake’s attention to what he’d done.
Jeremy sighed, gave Mrs. Wexler a slap on the ass, and headed back to his house to take a nap before he started time up once more.
– – –
There was that tug again, stronger than before, along with a sensation of everything skipping a beat. Jake frowned, then stopped time when he heard a clatter coming from the kitchen.
Natalia was leaning hard against the counter. Her knees had buckled, and the look on her face was one that he knew very well. Someone had made her cum.
Turning her around to investigate, Jake immediately noticed that her nipples were half-exposed. From there, it was easy to see that her breasts had been coated in something wet and sticky.
Jake started time again, not even bothering to go back to where he was sitting. He caught Natalia before she could fall. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“Oh! Oh yes, I’m- I think so. How did you get here so quickly?”
“Nevermind. Just sit down.” He looked around. Whoever was doing this, they had to be monitoring things somehow. A camera, perhaps, but he didn’t see anything. “Hey asshole,” he said out loud, “can you hear me? I hope so. You think this bullshit will scare me off? I invented this bullshit!”
“Jake?” Sarah was standing in the door to the kitchen. “Who are you talking to?”
“I’m talking to the motherfucker who stole my girl! He can hear me, and I want him to know I’m coming for him!”
“Jake, stop. There’s nobody else here. You’re scaring me.”
“Whatever. I’ll just wind back time, you’ll forget all about this. But I need to call this asshole out! I need to see his face!”
“Jake, please-”
Sarah stopped talking mid-sentence. Everything stopped. Time itself stopped. But Jake didn’t stop.
He could feel it, this time. He couldn’t see or hear anything, but he could sense the rip in time, and he had his fingers on the edges.
All he had to do was pull.
– – –
“He can rewind??” Jeremy stepped up in his seat and ripped his earpiece out. “He has… I have a time machine?!”
Jeremy ran over to the Wexlers’ house and entered the kitchen. Jake was standing there, red-faced, staring at an empty part of the room. “I guess I have to do something drastic,” he said, grabbing the man by the waist and lifting him up.
Jeremy pushed Jake through the air, lifting him again when he got too low. They went through the living room toward the front door, then Jeremy stopped. He stepped back and watched Jake floating in the air.
Except he wasn’t floating. He was slowly falling.
“Oh shit!” Jeremy exclaimed, grabbing Jake’s arm and pulling him outside. He could feel the weight now, as Jake’s mass reasserted itself in time. He was breaking free!
He moved around behind and pushed instead, heading for the road. One last trick, and he would be rid of the man for good, but it had to be now, before he broke free. Just push him in front of a car, give him a little scare, and then put him back inside. Simple.
Jake was getting heavier. Jeremy gave one last heave, falling hard on the grass, but it was enough. Jake’s body slowly flew through the air, coming to rest in the middle of the road, right in front of a car that looked parked but definitely was not.
Jeremy tensed his hand, getting ready to trigger the button twice: once to start things, and then once more as soon as he knew Jake had seen his predicament.
He keyed the control and time started. The car started moving at full speed, and Jake’s eyes widened in shock. Jeremy clenched his fist, keying the timestop again.
The car kept going. Jake’s hands went up. There was a squeal of brakes and a loud thud, and suddenly Jake was gone.
Time hadn’t stopped. Jeremy looked down and cursed. Hanging from his sleeve was a single loose wire.
The glove was broken. Jeremy couldn’t stop time anymore.
He couldn’t stop time, and he’d just killed a man.
A sex scene Rick and Morty fans will understand
The XY-chromosomed Homo sapien approximately within the segment of space-time continuum which I, a cissexual Caucasian bourgeouis XX-chromosomed Homo sapien, transferred the upper torso section of his hylomorphic unity in my (noting the metaphorical usage of “my”, lacking metaphysical commitment, cf. W.V.O. Quine) phenomenological direction, and, implicitly deconstructing the consensual/non-consensual dichotomy through material gesture within a given spatial reference frame, pun intended, located his labia lightly upon this author (contra Barthes) vis-a-vis her labia, forgive the indecent polysemous performative which construes the death of God as the birth of Man through weary postmodern irony; his digitus secondus manus and digitus me’dius simultaneously, insofar as simultaneity exists within a relativistic framework, constructing continuous abstract two-dimensional forms wherein every point of which, vis-a-vis a closed plane curve, is equidistant from a fixed point within the curve, in the unexposed, and therefore, titillating to the male gaze, area of the vulva, a construction embodying temporal patterns rooted in the Western aural art tradition; his pollex exemplifying a resembling trajectory through four-dimensional space-time with the gratuitous but welcomed addition of fractions of a Pascal applied onto the exposed area of the vulva — a fortuitous semantic serendipity, ferez-vous un pari? His until now presently unmentioned, but nevertheless, existing despite unmentioned (contra metaphysical antirealists of various stripes, Anglo-American or continental) manibus retrieves, in a manner reminiscent of the archetypical Capitalist (cf. neo-Marxian analyses), my capillum from my caput (note the near-feminine rhyme enacted by the Latin lingua franca) such that capillum remained attached to caput, and concurrently, exploiting the double-handed advantage of the primate species, establishes the position of my caput within a constrained but erotically-charged location within space-time. His lingua – a semantic unit reflective of humanity’s capacity to transfer through behavioral modifications internal intents – mirrors – Lacanian resonances remain salient here as ever, despite the naysaying of critics whose ignorance of Freud and post-Freudian discourse is encyclopedic – the aforementioned trajectories of his digitus secondus manus and digitus me’dius, embodying unity-in-diversity within the essential boundaries, insofar as the notion of boundaries are to be understood vis-a-vis post-Wittgensteinian, and some might argue, post-Heidegerrian, discourse, of the coital act, thus aestheticizing what too often is registered in the Symbolic as the collapse of the Human into the Animal (cf. Levi-Strauss), and in so doing, again metaphorically, creating and placing both of us within a dyadic relation, namely, the claimee-claimed relation, or, more critically, the bourgeouis-proletariat relation. My crura initiated a process whose telos necessitated the subsidiary state whose phenomenology eludes articulation, but which one may tentatively baptize with the descriptor “rigid elongation” (students of Kripke will appreciate the pun) as I contemporaneously enact illicit negation of his performed intent through horizontal movement contra his manibus. That manibus, consequently or not, negates itself through the Eastern virtue of gentleness, returning me from the psychophysiological condition which can be modelled in three-dimensional space as a canyon, the falling off of which has been described poignantly as le petit mort… I instantiate the property of “reaching orgasm”, to use earthy language, “instantly”, which itself is a misnomer since instant causation has been rendered scientifically impossible since Einstein in the beginning of the 20th century, an instantiation which itself is recurrently instantiated by this substance, the horizon of being temporarily forfeited for a saturation of jouissance grounding the disassembling of the socially constructed shell of identity… after which, a significant segment of the described process, fractal-like, repeats itself… The final cause (cf. Aristotle) of the sexual act, in the full sense of the term, i.e. the intentional use of the sexual faculties in line with their proper function and in accord with virtuous rationality, breaks upon a nearby slice of the space-time continuum, accompanied in musical (but musical in an expanded, post-Cagean sense) manner by the vocalizing, melismatic, quarter-tonal melodic murmuring and moaning of my vocalis spinalis through the enwording of his attached identifier.
Consensual nonconsent. A rape fantasy. [FM]
This story begins a series of fantastic, destructive, mind-blowing, pornstar-like adventures with my friend Karen. These are all from 2012, so my memory is a bit fuzzy but I am writing it all as best I can remember. There was a blog we both chronicled things in as we played, but when we imploded (as any relationship as intense and wild as this is bound to do) she held the admin keys and locked it up.
All events are written as best I can recall, slight embellishment aside, and are true as can be. Feel free to ask questions, or comments, or encourage the next in the series if I forget to update with a new story periodically. Maybe I can give u/Ironman2000 a run for his money on here! ;)
Timebenders 2: Channel-Surfing, Chapter 6 [timestop nc mf]
*Sorry for the late posting, I had a busy day! -author*
———
“Jake, please,” Natalia said, putting a hand on Jake’s arm. She and her husband Saul had cornered him on the sidewalk outside his home. “It has been a week. You have done nothing but search for your girl. Come over for dinner.”
“Yeah, come relax,” Saul told him. “One evening won’t hurt. Besides, didn’t you say she sent you a message?”
Jake shook his head. “The notes, the phone messages… they weren’t her. The tone was all wrong, and the content… it’s just a ploy by someone to keep the police out of it. She didn’t leave. She was taken.”
Saul Wexler, Jake’s neighbor, hissed through his teeth. “They can’t track her phone?”
“I think the battery’s been taken out,” Jake replied. “It doesn’t even ring.”
Natalia sighed. “Still,” she said, “it will not harm you to have dinner with us.”
Jake nodded, surrendering to his friends. “I guess I’ve got time.”
Natalia smiled. “Bring Sarah, too,” she said. “We will have a brisket.”
Jake chuckled despite himself. Natalia was tall and gorgeous, with long, dark hair, fantastic breasts, and a vulpine smile that spoke of intrigue and excitement. How Saul, a meek accountant, ever scored a wife as hot as her, he’d never know. It certainly wasn’t because of his sexual performance. In fact, before Petra had disappeared, they had been helping Natalia with that aspect of her marriage; Jake had appeared to her in “dreams” thanks to the suggestibility of people who are frozen in time, fucking her brains out and trying to help her with her goal of conceiving a child.
They’d even groomed her, conditioning her to become aroused whenever Jake was around. That had been just for fun; he had been experimenting with coercion, learning how easy it was to convince people to do things they wouldn’t do otherwise. Like have extramarital sex with a neighbor, for instance. Judging by Natalia’s smile and the way she kept biting her bottom lip when she looked at him, it was working. Petra would be thrilled.
Petra. Jake flinched. In the week since his daughter had vanished, he’d spent months in stopped time. He’d searched entire boroughs of the city, house by house, keeping a record in a notebook of which addresses he had scoured through. So far he had discovered three sex dungeons, four drug labs, and a pretty impressive cache of money and guns that he suspected belonged to some sort of organized criminals. Several anonymous tips had gone to the local police about some of his finds. But nothing had looked remotely like a place where someone might take a kidnapped girl.
There had been no ransom note, no demands, and no sense to the situation. Petra had supposedly left a note explaining that she was leaving, and a second one in Jake’s bag explaining that she had needed to get away from him.
It didn’t add up. Petra was in love with him, and had been almost nonsensically enthusiastic about their incestuous relationship. She had initiated it, and together they had been having the time of their lives. For her to suddenly leave him over an attack of conscience was just ridiculous.
Still, a dinner with Saul and Nat could be just what he heeded. A chance to relax and recharge. And then he would redouble his efforts, searching the entire city if need be. He wouldn’t age while time was stopped, so even if it took decades, he could-
Jake twitched. Something had just touched his hand. He looked down and saw that his fingers had curled around a piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Natalia asked him.
“Nothing,” Jake said, unfolding the paper and looking at it. “I’ll see you this evening. Six o’clock?”
Natalia started to answer, but Jake didn’t hear her. He was too busy walking into his house, retreating from the situation before his hands started to shake with fear and rage, because it wasn’t nothing that he was holding. It was a note.
A note from Petra’s kidnapper.
[F] – Mirror Monster – Part 6 [Fsub] [bd] [nc] [sci-fi] [Tentacles]
Waking up that morning I could hear soft breathing beside me as well as warm breath on my cheek. I groaned slightly trying to remember what happened. As my eyes opened I was able to make out Taylor’s head laying next to me. I shuffled slightly pulling the covers a little further up covering us both, and letting her sleep a little longer, it was only 6am, and I didn’t have to be at work till 8. The morning’s after like this were so peaceful, there was no monster barking orders in my ear, or tentacles raping my body, just warm sunlight, and a warm bed. Of course this time I was sharing that bed with my best friend. Well she WAS my best friend. After what I had done to her last night, I wasn’t so sure if that would be the case this morning.
I felt her stir on my arm as she rolled onto her back stretching her naked body. Her eyes fluttered open moments later as she looked around the room reminding herself where she is. We both lay there silent for a few moments, neither one of us saying anything.