Author: Killing Cure
Title: Chronos
Part: 1
Summary: A young boy inherits the power of an ancient god. 
Keywords: bF, bf, bg, ped, inc, preg, time stop

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Disclaimer:  This is a fantasy work.  The author neither endorses nor 
condones the activities presented in this work.  If you do not appreciate 
the subject matter being written about, do not read it. (c) 2010 Killing 
Cure.  Do not remove author information, or edit this story in any way.  
Do not redistribute this work without prior permission from Killing 
Cure (killing.cure@gmail.com).

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** Garrett **
     Garrett's eyes devoured the text on the screen before him.  He knew 
his young eyes were not meant for such things, but he could hardly 
resist the sweet naughtiness of the story he read.  He furiously stroked 
his small stiff member without any semblance of finesse, just the fury 
of carnal need.  His shoulder was cramping from the action, but he dare 
not stop until he felt the bliss of orgasm.  He came at last from his 
action, and slumped heavily in his chair.
     He noticed something different as he rested.  His cum, once clear 
and viscous, was now thick and white.  From his internet reading he 
knew what this meant.  He was finally a man.  He could make babies!  
He felt very proud of himself in that instant.  He was only 10 years old, 
and was already a man.
     He heard the hardwood floor creak as someone came down the 
hallway toward his room.  He quickly cleaned himself off and pulled 
up his pajama bottoms.  He had barely closed the browser window 
when his mom entered the room.
     Heather O'Leary had been an absolute stone-cold fox in her prime.  
Even at age 34 and after bearing an astounding fourteen children she 
still turned heads.  She was a bit on the tall side for a woman, standing 
5' 8" with a firm, athletic body and b-cup breasts that were just 
beginning to show the effects of gravity.  She had been pregnant 
almost constantly from the time she had married her husband after they 
graduated high school, until the birth of her youngest, Alison, three 
years past.  The process would have likely continued had her husband 
not been shot in the line of duty eight months before Alison's birth.
     She looked at her darling boy, sitting in front of his computer.  She 
scanned him with a mother's knowing gaze, recognizing the slumped 
posture and avoidant expression; and knew instantly that he had been 
doing something to feel guilty about.  The musky scent in the air was 
intimately familiar to her.  The evidence was staggering.  Her little boy 
had been masturbating.
     Heather was not as surprised as many mothers would be.  Garrett 
had always been a precocious child, and it made sense to her that he 
would develop physically more quickly in the same manner as he had 
mentally.  She thought for the briefest of moments before deciding that 
now was not the time to talk to the boy about such things as 
masturbation and sexual relations, as it would most likely embarrass 
him unduly under the current circumstances.  She took a mental note to 
have "the talk" with him at the appropriate time.
     "You should be in bed young man," she said with a smile as she 
brushed his nearly jet black hair from his freckled face.  She gazed 
lovingly into his deep green eyes.  He looked more and more like his 
father with each passing day, and she sighed emotionally as she took in 
that reminder of her lost love.
     "Awww . . . five more minutes, mom?" pleaded the young man.
     "I'll have none of that." She replied sternly.  "Tonight is a school 
night, and I still have to see your sister's to bed.  You're the man of the 
house Garrett, and you need to start to take some responsibility."
     "Oookay," he said, sliding from the chair, and slumping toward his 
bed.  He hesitantly climbed into the bed, pulling the superhero 
emblazoned comforter up around him.
     As his mother tucked him in, Garrett clandestinely gazed down her 
shirt.  Her breasts were milky-white orbs dusted with a cinnamon 
sprinkling of freckles, damnably covered with a lacy bra that reminded 
him of the frosting on a wedding cake.  She kissed his forehead, and 
bid him good-night, lightly shutting the door as she left.  Garret began 
to rub another one out thinking of his mother, but drifted off to sleep 
before he could finish.
     Garrett woke to the hustle and bustle of a house full of women 
getting ready for the day.  He had learned from experience that the best 
thing to do was simply stay out of their way.  The hardest part about 
that solution was the obligatory morning piss.  Getting into the 
bathroom was the hardest thing Garrett needed to do in his morning 
routine.  After the first time he accidentally pissed himself, Garrett 
discovered the answer to this as well.
     He quickly got dressed, and ran downstairs.  He flew past his mom 
with a quick, "Going to the station", and was out the door.  It was only 
three blocks to the closest filling station, and a much better option than 
trying to get into one of the house's four bathrooms.  He waved at Mrs. 
Schultz as he trekked his morning route.  She was one of his favorite 
things about his morning ritual.
     Mrs. Schultz was an aerobics instructor at the local gym, and 
always went for a morning run.  She was of average build with a firm, 
toned body and huge knockers.  Garrett didn't know a lot about cup 
sizes, but he imagined she had to be at least a g-cup.  Garrett watched 
appreciatively as she jogged down the sidewalk, her breasts bouncing 
despite their sports bra covering.  Her cinnamon brown pony tail 
swished back and forth, occasionally pausing for a moment as it 
contacted the cord connecting hear ear buds to her MP3 player.  She 
smiled, and waved back at Garrett as she jogged by.  Garrett stole a 
quick glance back at the woman's firm flexing ass before continuing 
his way to the gas station.
     There was nothing remarkable about the gas station.  It was a small, 
four-pump station with a small convenience store.  The store attendant 
was a small, attractive lady with small breasts, a small waist, and a 
large broad smile.
     "Hey Gary," she beamed as the young boy dashed into the store.
     "Hey Cyn," he replied, pronouncing it "sin", as he made a b-line to 
the restroom.  The very pretty attendant's name was Cynthia.  She 
insisted on shortening Garrett's name to Gary, so he returned the favor.  
Garrett had never liked the name Gary and had started calling the 
young woman "sin" as a return insult.  They had become casual 
acquaintances over the last year however, and now the names were 
more like pet names between them.  Garrett didn't even mind so much 
that she called him Gary any longer.
     After dealing with his business, Garrett washed his hands and went 
to talk a while with Cynthia.  He did find the girl very attractive, 
despite the fact that he preferred large breasts on a woman.  She had a 
fair complexion, and as far as Garrett could tell was a natural blond.  
She wore her hair very short and had the palest blue eyes that Garrett 
has ever seen.  They were the kind of eyes that made a man almost 
forget to look at the breasts below.
     Cynthia casually flirted with Garrett in the condescending, 
patronizing way adult women flirt with little boys as Garrett took in 
her figure and form; caressing her body with his gaze, outlining her 
beautiful face, to finally fall into the icy orbs of her soul.  This 
continued for a few minutes then Garrett pulled himself away to return 
home for breakfast.
     Outside the filling station Garrett noticed something out of place . . . 
or rather someone.  A man was leaning against a light pole across the 
street from the filling station.  There was something about him that just 
didn't fit.  He was tall and handsome, in a girlish way, immaculate and 
exquisitely groomed.  He was far too well dressed for the area with a 
fashionable suit that appeared to be silk.  None of this caused Garrett 
to notice him.  Rather it was the nature of his gaze; cold, calculated, 
and unblinking even when the slight wind whipped his jaw-length 
auburn hair across his steel gray eyes.  Garrett stopped to look at him 
when an SUV passed by quickly.  Once the SUV had passed, the man 
was nowhere to be seen.  Garrett shrugged off a chill, and quickly 
made his way home.

** Simon Tempus **
     Simon Tempus watched the boy as he walked into the catholic 
school with his sisters.  He had waited a long time for this, and he 
wanted to make certain the boy was right. He patiently waited, nearly 
motionless sitting on the bus stop bench.  Growing bored, he sped the 
passage of time.  Forms of people and vehicles whirred around him, 
blurring in an almost indiscernible dance of color and light.  Finally the 
children came flooding from the old stone schoolhouse like a tidal 
wave after an earthquake.  He froze time.
     Simon casually crossed the street, breathing the invigorating aroma 
of still time deep into his lungs.  He drifted his hand casually through a 
high school girl's force lines just to see them ripple.  Soon he saw 
Garrett in the crown of children.  He gradually let time move forward 
until the boy had a respectable clearance around him, then stopped 
time again.  Now was the test.  If he could pull the boy fully into still 
time with him Simon's quest would finally be over.
     Garrett stopped in his tracks as all sound around him stopped.  
There was a quality to the air that was different . . . frightening.  It was 
almost metallic or electric.  He looked around him to see the universe 
motionless.  Faded trails followed the objects like pictures taken with 
the shutter open.  He sat his book bag on the pavement and started to 
take a good look around.  His wildest dreams had come true.  
Somehow he had stopped time!
     He moved quickly through the crowd looking for his oldest sister 
Mary.  He found her motionless, frozen in the process of talking to her 
hot friends.  She looked unbelievably hot in her short plaid skirt, knee 
socks, white button-up top with its black tie, and v-neck sweater.  Her 
long, luscious, red hair frozen in place where it had been swaying in 
the breeze that no longer blew.  Garrett focused on her breasts then, 
those perfect mounds he had so long wanted to kneed . . . to roll around 
in his hands . . . to suckle like a baby.  He reached for them.
     "I would rethink that, lad," said a voice behind him.  Garrett spun 
quickly trying to fathom how someone else could move in the world of 
stillness he had created.  The man stood there, nearly as unmoving as 
those around him, but with no trailer of his image.  No blur.  Then 
Garrett recognized him.
     "You're the guy from this morning," he said, "across from the gas 
station."
     "Very astute, young Garrett," he replied, donning a pair of round 
lensed, smoky sunglasses.  He had a wry half-smile on his face that 
seemed self-assured . . . no arrogant; everything about him screamed 
confidence.  "You should be careful what you do in still time boy.  
You could have seriously hurt your sister there."
     Garrett blushed brightly.  "I wasn't going to hurt her.  I was just 
going to feel her up a little.  She wouldn't even know I did it."
     "Oh I think she would have noticed when her breast exploded my 
boy," he said as he walked to a steel light pole.  Garrett's eyes opened 
wide as the horror of the image sunk in.
     "How could her breast just-"
     "Come here Garrett," said the Man, cutting Garrett off, "and I will 
explain."  Garrett slowly walked over to the man, his steps reluctant 
but determined.  "Now press your finger lightly on this poll, and hold it 
to a count of ten."
     Curious, Garrett did as he was told, lightly touching the pole. "One 
. . . two . . ." Garrett noticed the slight blur on the pole become more 
pronounced, bending out slightly where he touched.  "Three . . . four 
. . ." the blur became longer as her held his finger in place.  "Five . . . 
six . . . seven . . ." the blur became darker and longer mostly focused 
where he had his finger.  "Eight . . . nine . . . ten," Garrett removed his 
finger from the pole.  The blur was a long dark streak as though a 
painter had dragged his finger over a wet canvas; trailing out in a 
direction opposite the direction he had held his finger.  "What the . . ."
     "Those, my boy," said the man as he clapped his hand on Garrett's 
shoulder, "are force lines."  He guided Garrett, and the boy walked 
with him in a daze.  "You can tell how an object was moving before 
still time by the force lines, and my interacting with objects during still 
time you can affect those force lines."  They came back to the place 
where he had been standing before time froze.  A ghostly image that 
looked exactly like him stood motionless and transparent where he had 
stood.
     "What's tha-"
     "Your force lines, of course.  If you're going to be using still time, 
you will occasionally need to get back into the exact position you were 
in before still time.  This is a handy little tool for that.  Step into your 
force lines, and try to get into the exact position it is in."
     Garrett stepped into his image, and tried to adjust himself.  It was an 
awkward position as he has been mid step when time froze, but the 
force lines seemed to support him once the position was right.  He 
found himself in the totally unbalanced position with no problems.
     "Now you stay there, and I will restart time," said the man.  "Watch 
the pole you touched."
     Suddenly the unearthly silence was shattered with the flooding 
return of the sounds of existence, along with a tremendously loud, 
sharp ping coming from the pole he had touched.  A hole tore itself 
through the pole in the beating of an eye, and it buckled tremendously.  
The top of the pole began to fall toward the student body as the hole 
tore into a massive gash almost all the way through the pole.  Garrett 
began to run to the pole, hoping to catch it, when the world froze once 
more.  He took a few staggering steps, then looked for the man.
     "Can you imagine," the man said, "if that had been your sister?"
     Garrett swallowed hard.  "I'm sorry."
     "Why apologize?  You didn't know.  I am here to teach you."
     "But why?  Am I going to be able to do this?"
     "That depends on you, dear boy.  That depends entirely on you."
     "I don't even know your name."
     The man smiled wryly.  "You may call me Simon, Simon Tempus.  
Not my original name, but then again I have no idea what my original 
name was to tell the truth.  So now that we know one another's names . 
. . shall we begin?"
     "Hells ya!" said Garrett, jumping for joy. 

** Chronos **
     "That's it," said Simon, watching Garrett gently touch the pole 
opposite its force lines. "Very light pressure, just enough to remove the 
force lines.  Don't worry if you overshoot it.  You can always 
compensate on the other side.  You have all the time in the world."
     "I have a question," said Garrett, "why does it do that.  The force 
lines I mean.  How do we affect them so strongly?"
     Simon smiled.  "When we touch an object in real time the force of 
our touch is spread across a vast span of time compared to the rather 
infinitesimal amount of time that passes here in still time.  The longer 
we touch something, the more force it accumulates.  The power we can 
generate from simple build-up is staggering as you have seen."
     "So we can't touch anything we don't want to destroy in still time?  
That sucks!  What good is it?  And for that matter why aren't we 
blowing big holes in the ground by walking around?  And what about 
the air?  Shouldn't we be causing massive air currents just by 
moving?"
     "You know Garrett; the more I talk to you the more surprised I am 
by your diction.  I know less articulate adults."  Garrett smiled proudly 
as he continued to try to negate the force lines of the light pole.  
"Believe it or not all your questions have a single answer.  You can 
bring things with you into still time . . . well mostly.
     "I am currently holding the earth and the air about us as close as I 
can get it to still time.  The same can be done with a person.  But you 
can't pull anything fully into still time."
     "What about me?  You pulled me in."
     "You are a special boy, Garrett.  I've been looking for someone like 
you for nearly three hundred years."
     "Why, what's so special about me?"
     Simon shook his head, smiling.  "The power I have can only be 
given to a person with particular qualities.  We can feel those qualities 
in people.  The qualities come and go over time, so it is important that 
once we find the person we try to transfer the power as quickly as 
possible.  I am very old, and very tired.  It's time for me to pass on the 
powers and rest."
     "Where do they come from?  The powers I mean?"
     "I'm not exactly certain.  I asked the same question when I was 
given the powers.  I guess I'll give you the same answer.  Long ago, at 
the dawn of man, the primordial entity Chronos grew tired of 
regulating time.  He chose a mortal and gifted her with those powers.  
In time she gave them to another, and he to another throughout the 
ages.  Now I have them, and may give them to you."
     "Ummm . . . I know you're impressed with my vocabulary and all, 
but you need to keep in mind I am only ten.  What is a primordial 
entity?"
     Simon laughed heartily.  "My apologies young master, a primordial 
entity is a being that existed before the creation of the gods and the 
world . . . perhaps even the universe itself.  I'm not so certain about the 
story however.  In all my centuries I have never experienced anything 
that proved the existence of the divine to me other than my own 
powers . . . and I am not a god."
     "Done," said Garrett, looking proudly over his handy work.  Barely 
any force lines showed on the pole.  "Now what will we do with it?"
     "Do?" asked Simon, "just the opposite actually.  We are going to 
`undo'."  With a flash of light and sound and a blur of motion and 
activity Garret suddenly found himself back in the position he was in 
when time first stopped.  The pole was whole and strong, with no force 
lines to speak of.  "I call that a do-over.  A bit childish, I know, but I 
hated the name my predecessor had for it."
     "What was so bad about it?"
     "Roughly translated he called it a `return to right', far too 
ostentatious and self-important for my tastes."
     "So why did I have to neutralize the force lines on the pole?"
     "You didn't really," smiled Simon.  "But it was good practice."
     Garrett knew he should be angry, but instead a laugh bubbled its 
way out of his chest.  Simon joined him, and with their laughs the 
stress Garrett had been feeling floated away.  With the stress gone it 
came to him.  With a do-over he could go back in time to four years 
before.  He could stop his father from getting shot!
     "So, what's next?"
     "I can't teach you any more until I transfer the power.  This can be 
dangerous.  I have to do it in still time.  You have to immediately bring 
the earth and air as close to still time as you can.  If you leave still time 
even by accident once I have given you the power, the centuries will 
catch up with me, and I will no longer be around to answer your 
questions."
     Garrett tried to don a sober, thoughtful look  . . . but succeeded only 
in looking terribly worried.  "How do I draw them into still time?"
     Simon rubbed his chin for a while.  "How do you make your heart 
beat?"
     "I don't know it just does."
     "And that's about as the best way I can explain how to bring things 
into still time.  You just do.  Are you ready?"
     "Yes," said Garrett as he unconsciously shook his head from side to 
side.
     Simon laughed.  "Relax, the calmer you are the more likely this is to 
go right."
     Garrett nodded, and then suddenly was filled with a feeling, painful 
and electric.  It tore through his body setting fire to his every nerve.  In 
an instant it was gone.  Before he drew a breath he felt the ground and 
air slipping from still time, and reined them in.
     "Ouch," he said, "though it was easier than I thought it would be."  
It was only then that he realized he was on one knee with his hands on 
the pavement.  Slight force lines rose from the pavement.  "Uh oh . . . 
is this a problem?  Maybe you should teach me how to do a do-over."
     Simon shook his head, a bright smile across his face.  "It shouldn't 
be a big deal, there isn't much power in those force lines.  Beside you 
couldn't do over that.  You can only go back to the first time you 
possessed the power."
     Garrett recoiled as if struck. "But . . . but I was going to go back and 
save my dad!"
     Simon hung his head low, his hair masking his expression.  "I know.  
I could see it in your eyes.  I'm sorry."
     "But you could have done it," tears poured from his eyes as his 
heart burned like the first time he lost his father.  "Before you gave me 
the power you could have saved my dad!"
     "If I had done that you would have certainly changed . . . and I 
would not have been able to give you my power . . . I would not have 
been able to rest."
     "Damn you!" screamed Garrett.  "God damn you!"
     Garrett returned to real time.