Out of the Closet: Stop the World, I Want To Get Off (mm asfr)

College freshmen Jon and Matt have a secret. While cleaning out the house that belonged to Matt's grandpa, they found a secret closet full of the old man's inventions. They haven't even had time to try them all out yet, since each one plunges them into a new erotic adventure. What will be the next surprise to come...

The sun was bright on the green lawns of Chapel College as Jon and Matt emerged into the air, energized and hungry after Sunday-morning choir. "Time for lunch!" cried slim, red-headed Matt enthusiastically. "And after that...how about some time in the closet?"

Blond, brawny Jon's eyes lit up - for them, that phrase meant anything but what it sounded like - but then he reluctantly shook his head. "Can't today. Bill's throwing a party for the football team. I'm not only the guest of honor, but rumor is that a recruiter from one of the major-league teams might be there. I can't skip it."

Matt was disappointed. He could have examined Grandpa's store of inventions on his own, but they had made a vow to check out everything together. "I wish I was going," he sighed. "I've always wanted to hang with the jocks, but no way would they ever invite a nerd like me."

"You're not a nerd," Jon reproved him, then flashed a lecherous grin. "And seems to me you've been spending a lot of time with one particular jock lately."

Matt felt himself getting a boner just at the reminder of the passionate times they'd recently shared. He still couldn't believe his big, studly friend was now his lover - and had secretly wanted to be for as long as Matt had!

A moment later his smile changed to a grimace. "Oh, great. Look who's coming." A dark-suited man was walking stiffly across the quad directly toward them, carefully sticking to the path rather than walk on the grass. His stern face showed no sign of friendliness as he recognized them.

"Good morning, Mr. Harris, Mr. Thompson," he said without a smile.

"Mr. Trask," they nodded, hoping he would keep on walking.

But he stopped and gave Jon a penetrating look. "Since you are out enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, Mr. Harris, I presume you have completed the paper you promised me?"

Jon looked baffled for a moment, then blanched beneath his tan. "Oh my god! It's due tomorrow! I completely - I mean...I've had an awful lot of stuff to deal with lately, Mr. Trask. Stuff I never dreamed would happen." (He glanced meaningfully at Matt.) "I'm sorry, I - Is there any way you could, maybe, give me more time?"

Trask smiled thinly. "Time waits for no man, Mr. Harris. You will have a paper on the Caesars for me tomorrow, and I shall expect it to be of acceptable quality. Or, to be more honest, I shall require it to be, though I don't really expect it at all."

Jon's look was pleading. "Mr. Trask, please...Another failing grade and I'll blow the whole course..."

The professor's eyes gleamed maliciously. "Exactly, Mr. Harris. And my class will once again belong to those with a genuine mentality for it - not to some musclebrained athlete who shouldn't even have been admitted to an accredited college! Good day to you!" He whipped around and stalked off without a glance back.

"Shit, man," Jon moaned. "What'm I gonna do? No way can I write something like that overnight! And if I flunk another course I'll be off the team!" He turned to Matt with a wild look in his eye. "Hey, maybe we should get something out of the closet. We could zap him with the freeze ray - or the robotizer!"

Matt thought a moment, then shook his head. "Those would work to stall him, but only for a while. And he'd remember it, too. But maybe there's something else that can help. Let's go take a look."


Ten minutes later they were seated in Matt's little apartment just off campus, examining the big box of mysterious gadgets and equipment they had salvaged from Grandpa's house. Jon set aside the freeze ray and the robotizer ray, with some reluctance. Matt lifted out a nozzle-shaped object about six inches long, with a row of buttons along its top surface. "Ultimate dust remover," he read aloud from the narrow label.

"Nah," Jon shook his head. "But keep it in mind for later. It's gotta beat the vacuum." He reached into the box and pulled out an assembly of rods and spiraling wires. "No label on this one. What the hell is it?"

Matt studied it for a moment, then grinned. "I could be wrong, but I think that's part of a still. Grandpa must have made his own liquor!"

Jon looked at it appreciatively. "A man of many talents."

"Hmm, what's this?" Matt picked up a small round metal disc, about the size and shape of a Gouda cheese. It had no label, just a single button in the center.

Jon scratched his head. "Dunno, but it doesn't look like anything dangerous. I mean, there's no gun barrel or anything. Try it out."

Matt hesitated a second, then firmly pressed the button. Nothing seemed to happen. He looked up at Jon, about to comment, then noticed that Jon was still watching expectantly. "Jon?"

No response. Matt waved a hand in front of Jon's eyes, but he didn't blink. Must be a different model of the freeze ray, he thought, feeling his cock harden at the sight of his statuesque friend. But no way to aim it...did this version freeze everything around the one holding it?

Suddenly he had a thought. Leaning over, he looked at the readout on Jon's watch. The time was 12:15:14. He continued to stare at the numbers...and they continued to read 12:15:14. Then he glanced at his own watch. It read 12:15:55.

Jon was timestopped!

Matt sat back on his haunches, drinking in the sight of his buddy's muscular form frozen in time, staring unseeing with those gorgeous blue eyes. This was going to be a whole new kick! Didn't especially solve their problem right now, though; Jon was even less likely to get his paper done in this condition. Too bad it was only him who was stopped.

Or was it? It suddenly seemed awfully quiet outside.

Matt rose and went to the window, looking out. A kid on a bicycle stood in the middle of the street - not moving, just standing in an impossible motionless pose, nothing touching the ground but the still wheels. On the sidewalk pedestrians were stopped in mid-stride like statues. One girl's long hair stood out in an unreal sheath, stopped dead in the midst of being blown by a breeze. Matt looked up. Yards above her head, a pigeon sat in mid-air, its wings stiffly extended. Just hovering. The whole scene was like a photograph, or a paused videotape.

Matt slowly turned back to Jon, still rigid on the corner of his bed. He pressed the button on the disc again.

Jon frowned. "Doesn't it do anything?"

Matt took a deep breath, then felt a huge smile spreading across his face. "C'mere, stud. Let me try something."

Jon looked puzzled, but obeyed. Turning him to face the window, Matt instructed, "Put your hand on one side of this, next to mine. That's it." With each of them holding one side of the disc, he pushed the button again.

And they became the only moving people on earth.


Jon was dozing lazily in the afternoon sun, his bare back sprawled on the neatly-mown grass of Bill's large back yard. Bill's Dad had money, and paid a live-in gardener to maintain the place. Of course, no one had cut the grass since Matt and Jon had been staying here, but that was okay, since the grass wasn't growing either - any more than the sun ever moved from its stationary spot in the sky.

The sound of footsteps made Jon stir in his light sleep, passing a hand across the short blond beard he had grown. Not wanting to get up, he half-turned and snuggled up to his teammate Eli. Eli didn't react. His brown eyes stared blankly at Jon's sleeping face; his nude, hard-muscled body remained in its stiff sitting posture, though in fact he was lying on his right side. "Mmm," Jon murmured, pressing his face against his buddy's curly brown chest hair. Eli had been his fuck-toy several times now, but Eli didn't know it. In his timestopped mind, he was still sitting on a lawn chair, trying to remember the punch line to the joke he had already started telling.

Matt made his way across the crowded lawn, stepping over and around the frozen figures of the team and their dates. Most were in normal positions, since the boys had made a point of putting everyone back when they were finished with them; when they finally got around to starting time again, they didn't want anyone getting wise. But since this was a pool party, about half of them were lying on the ground anyway, and most were in bathing trunks or Speedos (or, for their dates, bikinis), which made stripping them completely conveniently fast and easy.

A toasty aroma rose from the stack of fresh pizzas Matt had in his arms. That was another sweet thing about timestop: The pizza was always warm and fresh. But by now they had eaten every slice in the place, and made two trips to the nearest pizza parlor to replace them. The staff there was in for a surprise.

Matt set the boxes down, along with the bag that rested on top, and nudged Jon with a bare foot. "Wake up, stud. I brought you something."

"Mmph." Jon reluctantly opened his eyes. "Mm, okay. Y'know, we oughta get Chinese next time.  No one will complain. Will you, honey?" he asked Eli, planting a kiss on his open mouth.

"That's not what I meant," said Matt. "I brought you some videos and DVDs." He held up the plastic bag.

Jon looked mildly interested. "Oh, cool. Man, I'm glad we could make Bill's players work. I didn't think they would."

"It's like the blow jobs." Matt smirked, recalling what they'd discovered about Jon's statuesque team. "Things respond if we start them going."

Jon grinned at that, too. "So what'd you get?"

"Something to motivate you," Matt started, then killed Jon's lustful look by finishing, "to finally get on with writing that paper."

"Oh, please," groaned his partner. "What can I say about a bunch of old dead Romans? 64 B. C. blah blah blah, built the Coliseum blah blah blah..."

"Give it a chance," Matt insisted. "I mean, this is fantastic, but we don't really want to stay in one moment forever. Do we?" he added uncertainly.

Jon thought it over for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, I guess not. But I still wish you'd just write the damn thing for me."

"No you don't," Matt said with assurance. "Whatever else you are, you're not a quitter. Not ever. It's one of the things I love about you."

"But only one," Jon grinned, leaping up and flexing one huge bicep, then pulling his lover to him for a lingering kiss. Releasing him at last, he shrugged cheerfully. "Okay, so let's see what you got," he said resignedly.

They went inside and up to Bill's room, flopping down in front of the entertainment complex. "This one's a video, the DVD was out," Matt said, popping it into the machine.

"Whatever," said Jon dismissively. Then, as it started playing, his eyes popped wide open, and his jaw dropped. "Fuck! Is that a horse?"

"Hm, someone forgot to rewind." Matt stopped the tape and started it back toward the beginning.

"What the hell is this movie anyway?" Jon demanded, still stunned.

"It's called Caligula."


It was some time later when Matt went back outside - but only for the two of them. For the rest of the world, it was still 3:43. He sauntered over to the tall, bulky figure of star halfback Jack Hebel, who had been calling for another beer when he froze with raised arm and open mouth. "Hiya, handsome," Matt smiled. "Ready for more?" He leaned in and nuzzled Jack's lips, then wrapped his arms around the hunk's powerful body and his tongue around Jack's tongue. When he finally pulled out, Jack's tongue remained in its lifted position.

Matt leaned against the ramrod figure, looking into Jack's wide, unseeing eyes. "You love it, don't you, stiffo?" he asked. "I know you do, 'cause you never complain. And your cock tells me how you feel."

Slipping down into a squat, he yanked the trunks halfway down Jack's thick, muscular legs, exposing his impressive nine-inch piece and his balls. The sturdy member was still erect, just as he had left it. Half-closing his eyes in lustful bliss, Matt licked its stiff surface like a lollipop.

The jock didn't budge a hard, ripped muscle as feverish hands caressed and stroked his hairy legs. His upraised arm, as thick as some men's legs, stayed as erect as the Statue of Liberty's while an eager mouth slurped on his balls. His dark eyes never blinked and his smiling mouth never twitched as Matt gripped his erect cock and tugged hard. His mind never budged from its frozen moment; but his inner anatomy, triggered by Matt's eager attentions, responded with first an oozing, then an explosive spray of cum. Matt pulled back his red head and let it cover his face, laughing.


In Rome, the imperator's palace was the scene for an orgy. Senators and noblemen, drunken and rowdy, cavorted shameless on the floor. A young woman raced between their writhing figures, laughingly evading the arms of a lecherous young man. At last he grabbed her by the hair - which popped off, revealing his quarry as a man! The pursuer stopped and stared for a moment...then both burst out laughing, and locked lips in a passionate kiss.

"Oh, man," Jon muttered, eyes locked on the screen. "I gotta read the book..."


A pretty girl paid no attention as her beefy boyfriend was tilted backward and lowered to the grass by a grunting Matt. Dropping down beside him, the smaller man slipped one possessive arm beneath his broad shoulders, cuddling up. His other arm reached out for the jock's big, hairy hand, guiding it to Matt's crotch. "You have the best hands," Matt murmured, rubbing the stiff fingers against his throbbing cock. "Do it for me, statue-boy..."


"Is that everything?" Matt asked.

Jon looked around at the party scene carefully. "Yup. Everyone's back just the way we found them. You'd never know we'd been here."

Matt nodded, his boyish face wistful. "They're expecting you. You're the guest of honor. Me...This is the closest to meeting these guys that I'll probably ever get." He straightened. "Okay then. Let's head down to the street. When we get there, we'll start the clock ticking again."

Jon looked at him for a moment, his face unusually thoughtful. Then he shook his head. "Hold the gadget up with me. Right here, right now." He held out his hand expectantly.

There was something in his voice that made Matt obey without question. Each held one side of the metal disc, and Jon thumbed the button.

All around them motion resumed, like a videotape going from "pause" to "play". Voices chattered, glasses clinked, a breeze blew...and quite a few of the team suddenly rubbed their own asses or crotches, wondering what the hell had happened to make them so sore.

"Hey, Bill!" Jon called out cheerfully, striding up to the host. "Hey, Kathy," he added, nodding to Bill's busty girlfriend.

Bill beamed. "Hey, man, I thought you were gonna stand us up," he said, only half-joking.

Jon grinned. "I've been here longer than you think. I walked right in and you didn't notice."

Bill laughed. Then, seeing Matt, his expression became slightly embarrassed. "Uh, I don't mean to be rude, but...you know this shindig is invitation-only. Just the team and their dates."

"Exactly," Jon said evenly. He put an arm around Matt's shoulder. "This is Matt."

There was a sudden silence as everyone within earshot stared. Matt was acutely embarrassed; and, more than that, a little bit scared. But another feeling rose up to overwhelm those - a swell of love for Jon, and pride that his lover would take this stand for him.

Bill seemed too stunned to know what to do. Then someone else stepped forward from behind him - a thirtyish man in a neatly-cut suit. "Jon Harris? Mark Knorr. I've seen you play," he said, gripping Jon's hand firmly. "And now I see that you've got not only talent, but guts. The kind of guts we look for in the pros."

Jon's eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir," he beamed.

Bill's girl, who at first had been looking at Matt with concern, took that in and now smiled warmly. "Hi, Matt, I'm Kathy. Can I get you a beer?"

Bill shook himself. "Uh, yeah, good to meet you, guy. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks, I will," smiled Matt, shaking his hand - the same hand he had stroked himself off with not long before.

Mark Knorr was talking quietly to Jon, and what he was saying made Jon's face glow with hope and excitement. After that a lot of the team started acting friendly to Matt - including one who whispered "You lucky bastard!", and another who slipped Matt his phone number. But it was Jon who never strayed far from his side all the time they were there...and all through the night that followed.


The class hurried out at the sound of the bell, happy to be out of Mr. Trask's sight for another day. But Jon, with Matt at his side, made his way to the professor's desk and pulled a neatly-typed paper from his binder, dropping it on the hardwood surface with a slap. "There you are," he said with genuine pride. "All done and delivered."

Trask sniffed disdainfully. "Indeed. Let's just see what we actually have here." He looked at the title page, and jerked his head up in disbelief. "'The Caesars: The Original Party Animals'?"

Jon nodded eagerly. "I did lots of research. I even read whole sections of some thick books, since, you know, there aren't any good movies with Elagabalus."

Trask was leafing through the pages, more appalled by each header than the one before. "'Caesar's Erotic Conquests'! 'The Orgies of Caligula'! 'Nero and His Monkey'! 'Elagabalus, Teen Sex God'!" His face was livid. "This isn't a term paper - this is an outrage! A calculated insult!"

"Oh, wait, I almost forgot." Jon snapped his fingers, and Matt handed him a large manila envelope. "You haven't seen the illustrations. They're the best part."

"You," Trask hissed, tearing open the envelope roughly, "you are going to be so expelled for this - !" Abruptly his voice cut off, replaced by a choking gurgle.

The illustrations were indeed remarkable. In photo after vivid photo, a naked Trask lay on a grassy lawn, his arms wrapped stiffly around a succession of brawny students. His expression looked oddly vacant, the same in every shot, almost as if he were in some trance - but anyone could see from the poses that his hands had been busy, not to mention his cock and his ass! And with the school's own football team!

"This...this is...impossible..." he mumbled weakly.

"Oh, anything's possible," Jon assured him. "Including me getting a passing grade for my excellent work."

"Or us sending copies of these to the school paper," Matt added. "But that won't have to happen, will it?"

The two boys nodded to each other, slapped a high five, and turned to walk toward the door.

"Impossible," Trask stammered helplessly, sounding close to tears. "Impossible...I never...young reprobates...no respect for the older generation..."

"Don't know what he means," Jon said cheerfully as they left. "I'm in awe of past generations! Julius Caesar - 'every woman's man and every man's woman'! What a guy! And that Elagabalus...wow!"

"And don't forget my Grandpa," added Matt with pride. "The best damned inventor ever!"