Prologue
For all I know, I've always been able to do it, but I was six years old the first time I remember it happening.
My grandpa was walking with me and his dog Frank back from the park. He was a lenient old man, nice but almost negligent. More concerned with enjoying his cigar and the nice summer day than watching over his rowdy grandson chase the dog down the sidewalk. He didn't notice when Frank ran out into the street, with me hot on his tail. A car horn wailed just as I caught up to the dog. I turned and flinched, putting my hands up in front of my face, the sedan a foot away. But nothing happened.
I eventually got used to the feeling, but it was jarring that first time. I almost puked as I looked around. The world was silent, immobile, completely dead. The car was frozen, Frank inches from its bumper. The man in the car still holding down the horn, but no sound. My grandpa had just looked up and realized what was about to happen, a shocked look frozen onto his face.
I grabbed Frank, and took a few steps away from the car. The dog was a bit lighter, but otherwise felt the same. I set him down on the grass, and a moment later the world rushed back into motion again.
I'll never forget the way my grandpa looked at me that day. He saw his grandson and dog about to be hit, and then they moved. He never talked about it, probably just thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he never quite looked at me the same again.
I was cautious after that. Careful to put things roughly back where they were before starting time again. Even if people saw me suddenly move, as long as it wasn't very far, they figured they imagined it. I walked around freely. Some things still working like normal. Gravity. Light. Even people's bodies to an extent. I think because I wanted them to. But everything else, just frozen in place. I could mess with things, move things around easily. However I wanted. And when I started time again, people usually just passed little differences off as their imagination or a weird feeling.
I never found out how it happens, but over the years I learned to control it. At first it only happened when I was in a life or death situation. But if I concentrated, really willed myself, I could stop time. For as long as I wanted.
I abused my powers so much over the years that I learned to pace myself to avoid getting too burnt out, too spoiled. And I learned that starting and stopping repeatedly, or even stopping for any extended amount of time, left me exhausted afterward. Plus, I was always cautious of getting seen. I didn't want to freak anyone out, traumatize them with the sight of something suddenly moving or blinking in or out of existence. So in general, I used my power sparingly, only when I needed it.
But it gave me an easy life. Got me out of countless situations. A cheat code to get exactly what I wanted. Later in life, it made me twisted, perverse. Or maybe I always was. I made a ton of money from gambling on fights. I could stop time and mess with a fighter, making them lose. I even caused the greatest upset in the history of women's mixed martial arts, betting on the underdog and... distracting her opponent.
It's easy to see how I became so corrupt, so depraved. With nothing off limits, I gave in to my darkest desires. Anything I really wanted, if I concentrated hard enough, I could stop time and obtain it. Which usually just meant one thing. Any woman. Mine to explore.
These are first-person accounts from my life.
***
Another morning that seems to never end. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to speed things up, rather than just stop time. Stupid uncomfortable chair. Elbows getting sore from resting on my desk. And the teacher drones on and on about the anatomy of a frog. I just don't care. I stare at the clock on the wall straight ahead. Tick. God it's so slow. Tick. Fuuuck.
I'm at the back of the room, trying to hide from the teacher's line of sight so she doesn't call on me. She always yells at people. I mean, I know she just wants us to pay attention. But she's such a bitch about it.
She's a new teacher. This is her second week. Mrs. B. Karen Berzinski. Yep, she's actually a Karen. And she fits the stereotype most days too. Condescending. Stick up her ass. Uptight and unlikable. And while she acts like a know-it-all, she really doesn't. Which makes it even harder to respect her. She mispronounces the word pronunciation, saying pro-noun-ciation. And said something about Darwin I know is false, even though it's her area of expertise supposedly.
But she is fun to look at. A MILF in her mid 30s. Tall, curvy body. Long, wavy dark hair, so shiny and high-class, swirling in waves down past her shoulders. Always wears such classy, expensive clothes from her lawyer husband.
Like today, a tight white sleeveless shirt, dressy but sexy, showing off her tan arms. At least five different shiny bracelets. A giant diamond ring. Sparkly, dangling earrings. Nice white nail polish. Dark gray dress slacks, so snug against her plump ass. That fucking ass, accentuated even more by her high heels. Expensive suede shoes, which can't even be that comfortable. Their only purpose to make her look good.
She must know how she looks. Must know her tight pants ride up her crack a bit. Every time she turns to the smart-board screen on the wall, she tortures a room full of horny high school seniors.
"Hellooo, what's the answer?" She's making eye contact with me! Shit I didn't hear her call on me! I've been so distracted staring at her.
"Sorry Miss B, I can't remember," Damn, the way she glares at me makes me want to shrink into my seat and die. She's so mean.
"Missus. And pay more attention." She turns and continues babbling on. Fuck she's uptight.
I always try to refrain from using my powers at school. I don't want to get seen or freak anyone out. And using it too much leaves me so exhausted afterward that it makes the rest of a school day so difficult.
