Timestopper Begins

Chapter 3 -- The change starts

A few more days of half heartedly tramping the streets, a few more days of simply not finding a good use for my power was all very disillusioning. I decided Saturday was the day off for Temporal Man of Power and he would go to the beach. The weather was glorious and the drive down very pleasant indeed particularly as I was driven by a friend - an old school friend as it happens: not that this detail is at all relevant to the story.

My eye, and indeed my friend's, was drawn to a surprisingly tall blond girl settling down to sunbathe on the sand. She did that rather enticing thing of lying on her front and then unclipping her bikini top to avoid having a white strap mark across her back. It is always the hope that the girl will forget and, when she turns over, leave the bikini top behind on the towel allowing the admiring man (or men) a pleasing view of the undraped breasts: but rarely is the girl so careless. Of course with my time stopping ability I could simply have removed the top altogether and enjoyed the consternation when she decided to turn over and found it simply missing or perhaps just out of reach. Tantalisingly just out of reach!

It was one of those cottony bikinis, not all tight but slightly loose. The girl was lying face down on the sand. As sweet looking bottom as you could hope to see uppermost or, rather, as far as you could see given the bikini sort of covered it up. It would have been as easy as anything to slip the whole thing off but I was a bit more subtle and, with just a little stopping of time from me, there it was half way down her bottom, the top of her lovely cheeks very much peeking out to see the sun. Both quite delightfully smooth - but leaving a lot still to the imagination. The girl did not notice at all - which was the idea - but the passing men did. It was quite amusing seeing how many erections it induced! Partial clothing is so often more titillating than full nudity. My friend nudged me to see if I had noticed, little realising just who was the cause of all the interest.

It was a worry, though, using time stop - or TS as I was beginning to call it - on a crowded beach. Of course no one could see me out of time. There was no problem with stopping time: the problem was with starting it. Not the original problem of simply how to re-start time but ensuring no one stared at me or asked embarrassing questions. In my alter ego of Temporal Man of Power I slipped into the shadows so I did not suddenly re-appear as if by magic but there were no shadows at all at one o'clock on a crowded beach. I had simply stopped time, got up, walked over to the girl and slipped her bikini down. It was only after the lengthy pause as I admired her bottom that I realised I had absolutely no idea where exactly I had been sitting and what pose I had been in.

Looking around me there were men, women and children looking in every direction including some looking roughly towards where I had been sitting next to my friend. At least he was not looking at me. If I sat down and restarted time to anyone watching I would seem to jerk into a different position. It would look very strange and call attention to me. Probably seeing such a phenomenon once would be put down to a misunderstanding, a poorly observed movement and not particularly noted but if it happened twice or, worse, if I simply restarted time when in a different place altogether then the disappearance or sudden appearance of me would very definitely be noticed. The eye is very good at spotting things which are not normal. I say the eye but it is of course the brain constantly scanning the world for danger. A hang over from when we needed to be very aware of unexpected movement -- perhaps by a sabre tooth tiger hiding in the undergrowth or something.

I did the best I could in trying to remember exactly where I had been sitting and quite what I was doing. I was back in position when I noticed, and noticed just in time (or just out of time), that the magazine I had been reading was lying half way to the girl on the sand. I had dropped it in my haste to get to her. Had I not retrieved it then it would have seemed to anyone watching that it had jumped out of my hands and landed six feet from me at supersonic speed - not exactly a normal happening on the beach. Not at Brighton anyway.

It struck me TS was better practiced with as few people around as possible or, else, I would have to get very good at positively noting my position and posture. Probably I, and indeed TMP, needed a standard adoptive posture when preparing to stop time. Of course I began working on my SAP straight away only for my friend to ask 'what on Earth was I doing?'

Circumspection seemed in order. After all Temporal Man of Power was there to save the World not play amusing tricks on girls or get cheap thrills. He was a man with a mission, with gravitas, with high ethical and moral standards: after all, you did not see Superman using his X ray vision to see what Lana Lang or Lois Lane was hiding away, did you? Well not in the DC Comics I read anyway.

Temporal Man of Power did not drop the ice cream down the pretty busty girl's cleavage; Temporal Man of Power did not sneak the girl's bikini bottoms off in the sea; Temporal Man of Power did not follow the young couple into the dunes to see what they were up to: no, Temporal Man of Power had fish and chips with his friend; Temporal Man of Power went swimming with his friend and Temporal Man of Power finished the day with a couple of pints in the pub - again with his friend. Yes, it was a good day but lying in bed that night Temporal Man of Power's thoughts did go back to the girl with the cottony bikini and the girl almost with ice cream in her bikini, the girl in the sea and the couple in the dunes. It was a good wank; if you want the detail, but Temporal Man of Power had just a sort of nagging feeling he had missed out on something rather better.

The change was creeping closer.

What did it was the girl I had first seen that fateful morning outside my house. Yes, the girl with the dark hair, round face, sweet little button nose and perky upturned brown nipples -- and, of course, with the right one pierced with a gold ring. It was seeing her again unexpectedly and it coming into my mind just how warm the feel of her brassiere had been as I lifted it from her soft breasts. It just prompted me to feel a little more.

She was in just the same blue skirt as before, possibly the same crisp white shirt and again the black nylons. I spotted her coming out of her block of flats early one morning as TMP walked the streets (before going to work). All of a sudden she paused, slapped her head in that way that means, "I've forgotten something."

It was a decision of the moment but I was heading across the road towards her before she had even turned back and was through the main door of her flat block a little behind her as she headed for the lift. There was of course no need for more than a cursory nod in the lift. No need to explain to her why I was there and that I had a great desire to see her breasts exposed again. No, that was not something she needed to know. Out she got and as she fumbled with her key and opened her flat door she stopped completely still, indeed everything stopped except me. With time temporarily halted I slipped beneath her arm and into the private space of her flat.

It was a nice flat, though she could have made the bed but at least there were not unwashed dishes in the kitchen. I can be a little fussy! It would not have terribly mattered to me if someone else had been there but it looked like she lived alone. A quick thought and time restarted once more only for me stop it again as I heard the front door close and she came into the bedroom.

There I was, just behind the door with the girl paused in the act of coming into her bedroom probably to pick up a book or file or even a shopping list (though that was under a 'fridge magnet on the 'fridge - she was out of Marmite apparently).

I had done something much more dubious than early on when I had first discovered my super power. I had arguably broken into this unsuspecting girl's flat with every intention of taking a very intimate look at her. It had been just so easy. No sooner thought than done. It had seemed obvious to me that once the girl's door was open I would be able to get in and I had timed everything just right. As TMP I had realised how easy it was to hide from people for just long enough for them to move and not see me but now I was using that for things that were not too noble. But I just wanted a peep - another peep at those lovely breasts and what was really so very wrong with wanting that?

It was difficult to contain my excitement as, for the second time, my fingers started to undo her buttons. It seemed to me I would have to be reasonably quick, after all the girl had a job to go to and she would not want to be late for work. But just a peek would not really delay her and...

Late for work? It came to me that she would not be any later for work than I would be. Work would not start even if I delayed her excessively. There was absolutely no hurry needed about the undressing. Time was just not passing. I could take an hour over it: except it would not be an hour or even a minute! What did I mean about undressing? Surely I had only meant to look at those breasts again - hadn't I?

Effectively I had a shop window mannequin to undress: only there would be rather more detail to the chest. It had not been my original intention to do more than merely play with the girl's breasts but... my ideas were developing. The idea of the fully detailed, soft, not plastic, complete with hair, warm mannequin was interesting - very interesting. And if she was not to be late for work what harm could there be - providing I took care not to ladder her tights.

Undoing another person's buttons is not so easy but it was certainly fun. More and more of her came into view and then I slipped the whole shirt off and set it carefully on the bed. My mannequin was now rather more suited to the lingerie department. The theme was attractive and rather than removing the girl's white lacy bra - pleasingly new rather than being a little worn - my fingers moved to the skirt. In all my (not that many years) I had never undone a skirt but the eye and zip proved obvious to my practical and inquisitive mind. I slipped it to the floor.

Well, tights on their own could never be described as a fashion garment. Good under a skirt but not wonderful fully revealed. Stockings and suspender belt has it so much more! Carefully I slid the nylon downwards leaving her in just panties and bra -- matching white lacy items simply perfectly modelled on my mannequin.

Standing back I admired. She really did look rather good. Very much 'girl in a hurry' albeit in her underwear - an interesting shop window display. You can imagine what this all did to the contents of my trousers!

My intention had always been to view and feel the girl's breasts and I cannot say it was long before I slipped my hands around her back and undid the clasp - the clasp which, quite possibly, had only been done up a mere five minutes before in her act of dressing. I lifted and there once more in my hands were her mouldable, soft, substantial breasts. It was so good to just feel, so much more satisfying than would have been the rigid plastic of the shop window mannequin. They were not rigid at all.

How weird to have been feeling up a shop mannequin but this was just so different. A slipping of straps over arms and there were those perky brown nipples once more in my sight. How exciting to see how they really did point upwards towards the ceiling, just as I recalled. All soft and unaroused: which was hardly surprising for a girl heading to work. There through the right nipple was the remembered gold ring. At first I simply fingered the nipples but then my attention moved to the ring. It actually moved within the nipple; I could lift it and rotate it upwards and leave it standing erected. I wondered at the original insertion: the piecing must have hurt. It was not something I wanted for myself -- no, not at all. I pulled on the ring and the nipple was pulled. Again I wondered at its purpose; a bit dangerous if it got caught in something; certainly she could be tied up by it; the idea of a chain and a padlock restricting and securing the girl was exciting.

I could actually - if I had the wherewithal - chain the girl naked in her bedroom; imagine her consternation finding herself like that; the last thing she remembered was coming in the front door and now finding herself perhaps naked and chained; unable to get to work; unable to get anywhere; the 'phone out of reach. Why the single ring? What sort of whim had it been? Was it a boyfriend's request or her own strange idea? It was an interesting speculation. Was she into the tying up scene - bondage and the like? All a bit odd to me but then I was fairly naive back in those days. I certainly needed to find out and solve the mystery. The girl would need watching. It seemed a trifle creepy as a prospect. Was this really the sort of thing I did? It was certainly not what Temporal Man of Power did unless it was for the girl's own good. TMP looked after the weak and vulnerable, not the sexy and curvaceous -- perhaps, though, she needed looking after and keeping her safe from what nipple rings might lead to.

Was I fooling myself? The fact of the erection in my trousers should more than have given away the reality but did I just see that as an inevitable by-product of my interest and concern? Perhaps the real reason for removing the girl's panties was to check things had not got so bad that there was labial or clitoral piercings as well. It was certainly a necessary check. Carefully I moved and laid her on the bed.

It was almost a disappointment. I had sort of imagined long labia minora with either a single gold ring or each labium pierced and with its own little ring of gold perhaps with a chain between. I had sort of built up a little fetish about this, imagining a boyfriend similarly ringed and the two of them connecting themselves with gold chains, ring to ring, for intercourse. An expensive sounding clanking of little chains. I think I imagined them getting tangled and having to get the next door neighbour in to help with amusing consequences - certainly they were amusing to me wanking away in bed later that evening!

But there were no piercings though she certainly had labia minora to spare with plenty of space for such things. They were lovely long flaps of skin - the left slightly longer actually - lovely to pull on and then open and investigate in detail her human anatomy. All her private little bits and pieces, all her private orifices there for me to see and the little bump of her clit. Carefully trimmed dark curls - had she done it herself, or at a shop or had she a friend? I rather thought the good looking young man in the photo by her bed, and on her chest of drawers and on the notice board in the kitchen might be that very friend. A man with a sharp pair of scissors and no doubt another tool... Had he been there last night or perhaps even that morning?

There is nothing wrong with curiosity and as I saw it I was only there satisfying a curiosity. TMP needed to know about people he might need to help. Had she been with her boyfriend recently? I could check on that. Of course it was rather nice to push my finger into her and watch it disappear. Nice but necessary. How funny girls are compared to boys to have an extra orifice - nice though - and it is certainly a source of endless fascination to boys. But there was not a trace of semen on the finger even when I pushed it in again and out and in several times just to make sure. I am thorough like that. The boyfriend had not been there -- or at least had not had that sort of sexual relation with her -- as far as I could tell!

Lovely to have a real girl, a lovely warm pliable real girl that you can just play with without having to worry about what she wants or does not want. It would have been nice to have had her moving though; perhaps in a sort of drugged state just saying 'yes' to everything; not that such a thing was really necessary for TMP's research. My hands roamed exploring.

Temporal Man of Power now had all the information he needed.

It was a shame I did not have my camera with me to take pictures for my database. TMP needs an information database because, unlike Superman, he does not have Total Recall. TMP may well have had all the information he needed but he was loath to redress the girl.

My penis was rock hard in my trousers you see, and what I really wanted to do was wank; indeed, what I really wanted to do was cum looking at this lovely naked dark haired girl - yes what I wanted to do was cum on her. Obviously I would have liked to fuck her but that would have been so wrong and be taking advantage of my super power and not at all the sort of thing Temporal Man of Power would do. But what would be the harm of a little wank - she would never know and was not going to be late for work - what harm would that be? TMP had his own needs as well and would it not be fun to be naked with her?

I should, of course, have resisted the temptation but I didn't - the change had started. Fantastic to undress as she lay there; lovely to imagine her looking on impressed at what I revealed. Shirt off, socks off, trousers down and then the impressive bit - down with the pants and there I was standing naked and erect looking down on this girl whom I did not know. Such a feeling of dominance as I stood there with my erection straining. I pulled her to the edge of the bed so I could stand right up between her splayed thighs and began to wank right above her open sex. It would not have done to let go of time and restarted it just then!

Fuck, I was just so excited. Just a few strokes and I was ready to cum. A pause, a bit more touching, and then a few more strokes. There in front of me and below was this lovely open sex, just so inviting. I could so easily have got on the girl and slipped in, naked flesh to naked flesh - just for a few strokes: not cumming. But I resisted. I was Temporal Man of Power sworn to protect the weak and vulnerable - very vulnerable in her position...

The act was lovely, the fast hand movement, the holding back and then watching the ejaculation fly - and fly it did right up onto her chest and making little pools of cum all the way down to her dark curls - just so exciting seeing it flying and landing all over her naked body. A wonderful free release. A beautiful thing I thought.

I stood gasping as my cock began to droop just staring and staring. Fuck, that had been good but now there was a bit of clearing up to do. Actions have consequences and I could not dress her like that. The box of tissues by her bed was pressed into use but whilst cum wipes up from skin it is not easy at all to extract it from curly pubic hair. She was still a bit smeary and messy but it would have to do! Blast - I'd dripped on the carpet as well.

Getting a mannequin dressed and positioned is not that easy. I did not make a bad job of it but it was not easy remembering, let alone moving her into the position she had been when she had been just coming into the bedroom. I did my best and then got myself dressed which was a lot easier. Standing at the front door I restarted time and watched her stumble almost badly - clearly I had not got her in quite the right position at all - before she regained her balance and walked into the bedroom. A quick open and close of the front door and I was away.

Post coital tristesse I suppose, well post ejaculation anyway, but I was a bit cross with myself for a time. I really should not have done that -- it was just not the sort of thing TMP the super hero should have done -- though there had been no harm to her really. But the damage was done to me. I was not going to be the same again.