Timestopper's Revenge

By PastMaster

As a child Phil found out he could stop time. Since he discovered it so early in life, it became a forgotten skill. It was the shock of seeing the love of his life, his wife, in bed with another man that forced this skill to resurface, and he used it well, to get his revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PastMaster
• Release date: Mar 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215261859

Book preview

Prolog

When the memory returned , I remembered that I had been able to do this all my life, or at least since I was about eighteen months old. I had a memory of myself, as a toddler, playing with a balloon, and then BANG – it was gone. I guess it was the shock of the bursting balloon that had startled me into my reaction, but I felt something tense just north of my stomach, and everything went quiet.

Looking around, I could see everything was stopped. My parents were in the process of turning towards me and the family dog’s head was just starting to come up from its paws where it was laid by the fire. There were still some remnants of the balloon hanging motionless in the air in front of me. There was complete silence. The program on the television stood frozen and I was confused and afraid.

I held out my arms to my mother, expecting her to come and pick me up and comfort me from the shock but she never moved. I took a deep breath in readiness for bawling and the tension north of my stomach relaxed, and everything started again.

For weeks after I played with this ability. Tensing this new muscle, as children are wont to do. As a toddler, though, I had a low attention span and a world where nothing moved and where there was nothing to do, was of little interest. I found a new interest that was far more entertaining than a silent still world and I forgot all about it.

I suppose I must have had shocks since that day of the balloon popping, but nothing triggered this now forgotten, and dormant ability. It was a shame really, as looking back there were times it would have been more than handy, but it didn’t surface again until my thirtieth birthday when I was to receive the shock of my life.

Chapter 1

Let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Phil, and I am, after a lot of work a CNS (Clinical Nurse Specialist) working in a busy ED.

What is a CNS? I hear you ask. Good question – it’s like a normal nurse – with extended scope of practice. I can do some small surgical procedures, order a certain number of investigations and prescribe some medications, all without the intervention of a doctor and while working in the ED. The idea is that the CNS can deal with the mundane stuff and leave the MDs to deal with the serious stuff.

That being said, I am pre-hospital, advanced trauma, and ALS certified so if I am first on scene at a trauma or medical emergency, I can deal with it until other expert help arrives.

Why did I become a nurse? Well, I kind of fell into it. I originally was going to do something with electronics or computers (I am a bit of a gadget freak and geek) but after a motorbike accident that left me on traction for nearly three months, I kind of got institutionalized and liked the hospital environment. When I was up and walking again, I decided to investigate becoming a nurse, as I had neither the grades nor the inclination to become a doctor. So off to nursing school I went.

Now let’s dispense with the stereotypes, despite what you may think or read in the press, not all male nurses are gay. However, my new roommate, Steve, was.

You couldn’t tell by looking at him, he was not what you would call a screaming queen, he stood about an inch taller than my 5’10 was slender of build but not skinny. He had medium-length brown hair which looked like it had a lot of product in it. I imagined it took a lot of time in front of the mirror to maintain that casual tousled look.

I knew Steve was gay immediately. I don’t have some advanced gaydar and he wasn’t wearing a sign, but it was how he introduced himself. He held his hand out to shake mine and said,

Hi, I’m Steve. I’m Gay. There was a challenge in his eyes, some aggression, and I thought I saw a slight touch of fear.

I shook his hand. Ok, so I guess we need some rules, I said.

He seemed to slump a little, but I continued. I will be your wingman if needed and promise not to hit on any of the boys you take a liking to if you, in turn, step up as my wingman sometimes, and leave any girls I am interested in, to me.

He smiled. Deal!

I’m Phil, by the way.

And just like that, I gained a roommate who would go on to become my best friend.

It was partway through our second year when Steve got back to the room in the early evening. He had disappeared immediately after class, and I was reading up on the lymphatic system when he came barrelling in.

Hi, he said.

From experience I knew he had something he wanted to ask or tell me. I looked at him. It amused me not to say anything when he was like this. He wanted something from me, and I was going to make him work for it.

So, he said. You know that Friday we were going to go to Flanagan’s?

We had got into a routine of alternate weekends picking our venue for entertainment and possibly romance. One week it would be Flanagan’s, a quasi-Irish bar that was a favorite for both students from the nursing school and the local college. Rich pickings for an unattached student looking for some company. The next week it would be the Blue Spot, which was the place favored by those who followed an alternative lifestyle. Both places were lively and clean, sold reasonably cheap beer but no hard liquor, and had live music (and in the case of the blue spot sometimes drag acts) every Friday night.

I don’t know why, but it had just not occurred to us that we should go out separately. I had had some small success at Flanagan’s but other than getting laid a couple of times was not attached to anyone. Steve was also similarly unattached but had far more success at the Blue Spot, and I lost count of the times I went home from there alone while he disappeared off with some guy or other. We had neither of us said that we wouldn’t bring people back to our place, but he just never did, although he was cool with me, on the very odd occasion I brought a girl back.

Yeeeeees? I drew the word out while looking at him over the top of my textbook.

Would you mind very much if we switched and went to the blue spot this week instead?

I raised an eyebrow. I had no preference as I was not really looking just now but I was enjoying making him sweat.

Why? I asked, What’s different about this week?

There’s a new drag act and I hear she’s really good, He enthused.

I smiled slightly, And I suppose that Daniel saying he might be there, has nothing to do with it?

He blushed slightly but grinned.

So, if you have a date, why do you need a wingman? I’m happy to fly solo if you are otherwise occupied. I asked.

It’s not a date, he replied. I just heard him say last week he might be back, and I need backup. I haven’t even spoken to him yet. Please?

What’s it worth?

I’ll give you a blowjob?

I laughed. This had become a stock response of his whenever he asked for a favor, and no, I never took him up on it.

Fine, I said, and he started towards me as if he were going to deliver on his promise.

I laughed again, waving him off.  Get out of here you slut!

He grinned, flopped onto one of the other chairs, and picked up a book from the side table. We spent the rest of the evening studying.

Friday came around and Steve spent even more time in front of the mirror prior to going out. I, true to form, just showered and threw on some Jeans and a t-shirt. I had a fondness for t’s with either riddles or jokes on the front and had a collection. Tonight’s read If people could read my mind... I’d get punched in the face a lot!!!

We managed to score a table near the back of the bar and started in on our beers.

A short time later it was Steve’s round, and he went to the bar.

Hi. A guy planted himself into Steve’s chair.

It was not the first time that I had been hit on in here. But since I had been coming here for almost eighteen months now most of the regulars knew me and knew I wasn’t interested.

Hi, I said.

I’m Daniel, he said.

Oh Shit!

Please don’t tell me that the object of Steve’s lust was coming on to me, not good.

I know, I said. I’m Phil. And before things go any further, I need to tell you I’m not gay.

I know, he said smiling. I was hoping I could persuade you to let me spend some time with your friend.

I noticed Steve coming back from the bar carrying two beers and his eyes widened when he saw Daniel sitting with me.

Hey Steve, I shouted to him over the noise Daniel here has asked if he can cut in. What do you think?

Bye Phil. Thanks for coming, he responded, handing me a beer.

I laughed and got up from the table. Nice meeting you, I said to Daniel and wandered to the bar to drink my beer.

Why does an obviously heterosexual man, keep coming to a gay bar?

The voice in my ear was low and sultry and I turned to regard who had spoken.

It was the eyes that captured my attention, bright green and showing a degree of appraisal. they (remember I’m in an alternative lifestyle bar so using gender-neutral pronouns until I’m sure) were about 5’ 3" with Dark Auburn hair, a slender build but with curves in all the right places. Their breasts weren’t huge, I would guesstimate b or c cup at most. They had a slim waist flaring into some very nice curves, and legs that seemed too long for their height.

Her eyes flicked to my t-shirt, and she smiled.

So! they said, If I could read your mind right now, what would it say?

I looked at them for a second before replying. If you are a guy, or trans, I think you might have just turned me.

They laughed.

I’m Bonnie, they said, and I’m natural-born female.

I grinned. Phil, I responded.

So, I continued to answer your first question, I come to a gay bar because my roomie who is currently attempting to eat that guy’s face over there is a slut and cannot go for more than 14 days without getting some strange.

And are you not enough to keep him occupied? she asked.

I laughed. We are roomies, nothing more. And despite his habit of regularly offering me blowjobs, he is not my type.

Maybe you should take him up on one, you might find you like it.

I shook my head. While the thought does not repel me, like a younger me would have thought it would, it also doesn’t really interest me. I’m also not sure he’s serious either. So that’s my reason for being here, what’s yours?

She smiled. Well, she said, "it’s one of the only places in town I can come and not