Timestopper Begins Ch 29

Chapter 29 - More pranking

Wandering along a shopping street one day, not particularly thinking of naughtiness, my eye was caught by a department store window where a girl was working on a display. It was one of those typical department store windows where the area behind is a box allowing a different display to be set up from the next window. It was probably the naked mannequin that caught my attention; you know how it is, something seen out of the corner of your eye suddenly has all your focus. The brain processes the image and automatically tells you that this is something needing your urgent and immediate attention. It might be a wild animal about to leap out of the bushes at you (thought this is a lesser problem in Croydon than it used to be) or, as in this case, the possibility of seeing a naked woman. Of course my subconscious had been fooled. I do not get excited about pink plastic shop window dummies with only rudimentary sexual characteristics!

The mannequin was just about to be dressed by a girl there in the shop window. It was slightly bizarre to see the contrast. You do not normally see people in such a window - just the static display: but here was the display being set up. The contrast of naked mannequin and neatly dressed shop assistant was interesting. What made the contrast perhaps particularly noticeable was the similarity in build and, indeed, the hair colour of the mannequin's wig to the girl's own hair. Even the style of hair was not dissimilar. It all brought thoughts to my head. I smiled and momentarily the girl smiled back before resuming her work. I looked around me. There was nobody at the window or even nearby. An idea had come to me. A very amusing idea. Can you guess? I rather expect so.

Easy enough out of time to wander into the department store. Easy enough to find the door to the right window display and step into the space.

"Hallo," I said. But of course the time frozen girl did not reply. Both she and the plastic mannequin were unmoving - the mannequin following its nature: the girl time stopped. The girl really just a soft mannequin herself.

My plan was to have the two change places. The mannequin dressed in the girl's smart uniform and standing where she was and the girl naked and where the mannequin had been standing. A complete reversal of positions and clothing! It was important to closely observe both positions: how the mannequin was currently posed and how the girl was standing.

Always pleasant to undress girls and this one was no exception. A pleasant surprise to find, as I eased her panties down, that she was fully denuded where one might have expected soft curls. It made her look so much more like the mannequin except, of course, that whilst the mannequin had a certain pubic mounding - something of a Mount of Venus - there was not even a hint of a cleft. Clearly the mannequin designer had assumed no one would want the pretty camel toe look on any displayed underwear or bikini! The girl, on the other hand, most certainly had more than a hint of a cleft, indeed had a charming little slit on display.

Not so much fun dressing the mannequin but quite a challenge to get the real girl into the mannequin's former pose and the mannequin in hers. But the job was done.

Stepping back out into the street I admired my work. Where the naked mannequin had been there was now a naked girl and where the dressed girl had been there was now a dressed mannequin. I certainly had a very big smile on my face as I restarted time. The girl seemed completely stunned for a moment, then gaped, clearly aware of her translocation, looked at me, then looked down and, screamed (I think) and her hands flew to cover her sex and breasts in that charming way girls have. The girl turned and made for the door at the back of the display area into the shop, her hand coming back to attempt to cover her bottom from my sight, and then thought better of it. She could hardly go out into the shop naked. That would be worse than staying in the window. She, turned, looked right and left and then started tugging frantically at the mannequin's clothes - or rather her own!

She dragged it over into a corner, sort of half hidden and attempted both to undress the mannequin and redress herself. But of course it was all in the wrong order. Bra first not jacket. She had to strip the mannequin first in order to begin dressing. Unsurprisingly she did not even bother about bra and panties. Her whole aim to get covered as quickly as possible.

And all the time I was there at the window watching. She was lucky. No one but me saw anything. Her eyes kept glancing at me and looking at the window to see if anyone else was stopping. My grin just stayed and I stood and watched it all. It must have been so annoying for her but it was so fun for me.

Tempting to do it all over again but there was perhaps a limit to what I could do in a department store's windows. I could hardly swop places with a male mannequin and the poor shop assistant finding she was trying to put clothes on a real and naked man especially if he was tumescent. Well, could I now? Not at all the thing for a window display and, what if a lot of people stopped and somebody recognised me? But imagine, instead, I knew she was going to be working late and alone on the mannequins inside the shop... Wouldn't she have got a shock - one of the male mannequins coming to life complete with working penis!

Perhaps I could have done just the same as in the shop window. Her clothes all of a sudden on one of the mannequins. She is alone. There is no one to see - unlike the shop window - and as she stands there shocked again another mannequin, yes a male one, comes to life. The male mannequin (me of course) insisting they are both mannequins and, as usual, they can have great sex whilst the store is closed. She trying to insist she is real but me having none of it. Great potential for chasing her around the store naked and using my TS ability to ensure plenty of copulation.

Or perhaps she finds herself the naked mannequin and me the shop assistant trying to dress her for the next day. Me completely unfazed at her 'coming to life,' as if it happened all the time but still trying to get her dressed for the next day and smacking her bottom for being such a naughty mannequin. "Now, will you go back to being plastic. Really this is no good at all. Stay still."

Perhaps, instead, I could have left two mannequins in a copulation pose in one of the windows but actually that could have got her the sack. Her manager would have been less than happy to see such an amusing display!

I waved and wandered on.

I am not a great ballet buff. Not really my sort of thing. I am a bit more low brow but it was nice to be invited and certainly I enjoyed the music and was astounded at how graceful and athletic it all was. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, though that is not terribly relevant to what I shall recount. It was not the ballerinas I had fun with and there was no disruption whatsoever of the Dance of the Four Cygnets.

Fun to go as a group to the ballet and even rather enjoyable to dress up for it - you know, the black tie outfit with dinner suit, funny white shirt and of course the bow tie. Well, I should have bought a clip on but I had the real thing in my drawer. Oh, the aching arms, oh, the difficulty of understanding the instructions, oh, the numerous unsuccessful attempts. I would have missed my lift had it not been for my ability to delay time. There was no panic on my part, I literally could have all the time I wanted - and it was just as well I could! Eventually, and I mean eventually, the job was done and the bow tie tied. Tied quite well actually and it gave me a warm smug feeling to know mine was a real one and I found myself sneering a little to myself at those men dressed in obviously ready tied jobs completely ignoring just how long it had - rather pathetically - taken me to tie mine!

Enjoyable seeing many of the girls in their evening gowns. All that swishy material and the gowns often rather low cut so a lot of cleavage on display. Add that to some of the girls not bothering with bras it all added to the pre show excitement in the bar as far as I was concerned.

As they moved there was the delightful sway of sometimes unrestrained boobs - just the material of their gowns, sometimes silk, restraining their movement. A really tall blond girl in a floor length green gown, first bending a little forward revealing even more plentiful cleavage and then turning so there was just such a delightful and gentle back and forth shudder of her green silk enclosed breasts. Not, though, so much as a hint of nipple. A pity because don't those little shapes just so add to the overall effect! I don't actually mean a nipple peeking out from the low cut top - though that would have been a cheeky surprise - but rather the dress material not showing any hint of nipple shape. Unsurprising as clearly she was not in any way excited or cold: isn't it funny how nipples erect in the cold - even men's. Apparently this is all muscular and not the blood pumping erection that causes the penis to swell and rise or the clitoris expand. It is just like how goose pimples form on your skin when cold so the nipples become prominent.

It was not at all cold in the bar: quite the opposite, it was jolly warm so no chance of... unless; my eyes alighted on an ice bucket. The noise of so many people talking in the bar was quite loud but all of a sudden everyone went just so quiet and, strangely enough, stopped moving.

Normally I did not 'work' in such crowded spaces. I am always a bit worried about getting back in position again for time to restart so I don't magically seem to teleport across the room or jump sideways six inches. Perhaps such movement - at least only by six inches - is actually less obvious in a crowded room than one with only a few people in but there was also the complication of people in the way of where I wanted to go and the risk of accidentally unbalancing people so they fell over when time restarted. Imagine the danger on stairs!

It was not too far to the tall girl. So nice to just walk up to her, reach and feel her warm breasts through the green gown's material. Not something I would have dreamt of doing in time before I gained my power - OK, maybe dreamt but not done! Easy enough to slip the material aside and bring her breasts out into the open. Well, well, well! What rather man like little nipples and tiny little areolae despite the well sized chest! But a man's nipples can harden and she was very obviously not a man (there was no inappropriate bulge to her dress and a quick feel confirmed she did not have male genitalia hidden away down below (that would have been a surprise). In real time, had I been permitted - and just a little unlikely in this bar - my sucking and licking might well have caused a pleasing firming of the nipples but out of time even leaving them damp from my tongue was unlikely to have the requisite effect. Taking a piece of ice from the ice bucket - nice round balls of ice rather than cubes - and stroking it against her nipples was a different matter, I suspected. Certainly my fingertips got cold and when I felt her nipples they were anything but warm.

Tucking her boobs back inside her dress I dropped the ice into someone's wine glass and stepped back into position. Oh yes, the sudden shiver from the girl was a delight. Especially how as planned, it caused her breasts to wobble sideways back and forth in such a pleasing manner and then, delightfully, I saw the appearance of two little points at the summit of her breasts. It had worked!

And if it had worked for one girl then...

I moved to the girl my first subject was talking to. Her neckline was not so low cut as her friend's and indeed other girls nearby. I soon found the reason why. It is not just the nipple that must not peak but the wrinkled pigmentation of the areolae - it is just not done for that to keep slipping into view: and did this girl have big saucer like areolae or not! Yes she did though not dark but pale coral pink. Not a great difference in colour to her breasts but certainly in texture. To get at them I had had to do some unzipping at the back of the dress, a very pleasing blue number, but once unzipped all came out into the open - all became free. Nice firm breasts; good to hold in the hand and topped with the aforementioned quite enormous areolae. Any lower cut and everyone would have seen them - though not as fully as I was able to do, nor to nibble as I was able to do - of course!

Another piece of ice in my hand and a repeat of my work on the green gowned girl. This time I held the ice in my handkerchief whilst applying it. And rather wider circles to move within! Of course it would have been more fun to apply it in time; seen the girl wriggling against the cold and particularly to have seen the muscles moving and stretching the nipple taut. Yes, to watch the movement and see the nipple firm and the areolae puff up.

Amusing to imagine taking the girl back to an imaginary lair and tying her up before subjecting her to the 'ice' in real time. The girl wriggling against her bonds as I applied the ice not just to her nipples but to 'other places'. A piece of ice actually inserted within her. The girl pleading for me to stop, yes for, something warm. A cackle of diabolical laughter from me; cue dramatic chords, she has requested just the right thing!

"How about some nice warm semen?"

"No, no, no! Not that!"

But it is all too late. My straining penis is produced; her eyes widen at the size of my knob, engorged and so shiny and purple as it gently drips the warming semen before it is slowly but firmly pushed into her ice cold vaginal entrance.

"Ah! No! You are pushing it - the ice - up me!"

And it is true. I can feel the ice being pushed ahead of me as my penis travels further into her. The feeling exquisite. Ice cold right on the end of my knob from the melting ice, almost a torture on the very exit from my body - but certainly torture to her, the rest of the knob and shaft encased in such wonderful hot wetness (oh yes, I imagine her wet despite it all) yet right at the base, right at her entrance such a cold clasp from where the earlier inserted ball of ice had rested (perhaps this is already the second inserted ball, the first having melted). Such contrasts - cold to my knob's end, warm to my shaft and a cold clasp at the base. It is all too much, too many unusual sensations all at once and the ice is blasted by, indeed no doubt finally melted by spurts of my 'boiling' hot cum as the girl goes into an unbelievable orgasm. All rather an amusing idea!

Returning to the bar from my thoughts. That melodrama was simply not me. Not me at all. Kidnapping and abducting? No, I would not like the screams and abuse and probably am not too good at gags and probably would get the duck tape or gaffer tape mixed up in her hair if I used that instead of the gag and, all in all, would make a terrible mess of the whole thing. No, too much bother by half!

I contented myself with cooling the girl's nipples and areolae. Annoying though not being able to see the outcome immediately. I had been sure the green gowned girl's would simply firm as little bumps but with this girl I was less sure. How big would the nipples be? Would the areolae really puff up and mound? I looked around. Such a range of breasts, so many different sizes and shapes actually. I wondered which of the women in the bar had the longest nipples when erect. It was a thought! Or, of course, who had the biggest clitoris or, indeed, which of the men had the biggest penis!

Well, my ice was not going to cause penile or clitoral erections - quite the reverse if applied - but, nonetheless, I could have a bit more fun and experimentation with the women and girls. All the women in the bar's chests were available to me and I had the time - or no time - to expose and apply ice to them all. The bucket was full of ice. There was plenty to go around. But there was no point really in applying ice to women in looser clothing or wearing brassieres: I would not see the result when time restarted.

A pretty black girl, all smiles and laughter, chatting with her escort was my next port of call. Not a pair of melons at her chest but certainly a pair of peaches. I reached with both hands into her dress and just lifted them out. So round and, yes, so peach like in shape and size. Not so much undeveloped breasts as fully developed in a rather small way. Such beautiful dark skin, soft indeed like a peach, and her nipples and areolae darker still. Had the fine young man with her already sampled them? Were they lovers?

After the ballet would they sleep together, would they roll together, would his lips suck with enthusiasm on the very nipples I was sucking? Would her pretty mouth, currently laughing at something he had said, descend and suck with pleasure on his erection? Would she delight in the feel of it in her mouth, so big, the knob so smooth, so ready to push between her legs and give her such enjoyment? Would he bring her to a delightful climax before releasing his semen so pleasurably in her wet little hole? Would they roll apart and lie there panting and gasping in the (romantic) moonlight streaming through the open casement onto their sweaty and naked bodies? Would I then step forward from the shadows as time ceased, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step, having so enjoyed watching their little show and then bury my own erection in her, possibly (it is a good image after all, if a little unlikely), steaming sex?

Well, maybe. I most definitely wished to see her again and naked to boot and was careful enough to jot down her address, obtained from a letter in her handbag, before I had finished with my ice work. Oh yes, I had not been just imagining: I had been at work on her nipples. I had a feeling her nipples were going to be prominent when cold.

Another girl, beautifully titian, with such pale skin you could see the blueness of her veins underneath. A mass of freckles to her face and chest. I was intrigued to see how far they went and, with a gentle rearrangement of clothing, the answer was - a long way! The freckles continued well onto her white breasts. Such pale pink areolae and nipples. Unsurprising with her skin colour. It would have been really nice to see them against the black girl's by way of contrast. How lovely to have seen the girls brushing their nipples against each other's. How nice to have seen them 'making out' together; yes, seen them on a bed together sucking and kissing, soixante-neuf and everything. Indeed how nice to have them as neighbours ideally with an unexpected penchant for including a male friend in some of their games - yes, please, me! How unlikely, but wouldn't all we heterosexual men like that? A friendly lesbian couple liking to play with, what I would call, the 'real thing' once in a while! A little bit bi, perhaps. Unlikely - but nice!

The titian girl's nipples suitably chilled I moved on around the bar. I had a very enjoyable time and by the time I had finished there were almost a dozen girls with their breasts nicely out of their clothing and with their nipples expertly chilled. Tempting to leave them out but I wanted subtlety - a collective shivering. Carefully I tucked the ladies away.

I was rewarded certainly and, indeed, so were the other men in the bar! Generosity on my part, perhaps!

It was not quite instantaneous but all of a sudden there was a shivering, a movement of the shoulders and, as desired, some very pleasing movements in the chest area. Twelve or so pairs of boobs within thin material suddenly in motion, seemingly being deliberately shaken. But there was more to come. As I watched, sipping my retrieved drink, two dozen or so little bumps appeared and some got very obvious and prominent. The girls and women so conscious of the sudden cold feeling and what it was causing. Some perhaps now regretting not wearing brassieres, others perhaps not caring. Arms and drinks in some cases raised a little higher to obscure.