One Bad Wish
Chapter 2: The World Changes

Copyright© 2014 by Alan C. Zumwalt

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 2: The World Changes - Wishes can be wonderful things, but when misspoke, all kinds of bad things can happen. In this case, a young woman, who has just found true love makes a wish that changes the world forever.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Consensual   Lesbian   Science Fiction   Incest   Mother   Daughter   BDSM   FemaleDom   Spanking   Humiliation   Sadistic   Torture   White Female   Oriental Female   Oral Sex   Violence  

Becky looked stunned. She set the ring on the bedside table. "How did that happen? You said there were only three wishes."

Andrea shook her head. "I felt it. After the last wish, the ring lost its zing. It went from this living thing to just a cold piece of metal."

"Maybe it only gives three wishes to each owner."

Andrea slapped her forehead. "Of course! If it could only give three wishes, it would have been used up by its first owner.

"Now, do you remember what you wished for?"

The brunette shut her eyes. "I'm not sure. Seeing the flash of light threw me for a loop. Let me think."

Andrea stroked her hair. "Calm down and relax. You were laying here on the bed, in the afterglow of some great sex. You had the ring in your hand, and you said 'I just wish... '"

"I just wish that all women could experience the happiness we've found."

The thirty year old sat down on the bed beside her love. "This is not good. Not good at all."

"What's wrong?"

"Wishes are tricky things. The ring will take what you wish for literally, sometimes out of context, if you're not careful. That's why I spent about a half hour writing and rewriting when I wished for you." Andrea went over and picked up the pad of hotel stationery, and showed her the early drafts.

Pulling out a new sheet of paper, Andrea picked up her pen. "Let me write down exactly what you said."

Becky got up and watched her write.

"That's what you said, right?"

Becky nodded.

"At the most benign interpretation, you've just turned every woman in the world lesbian."

Her jaw dropped, "The whole world?!"

"You did say 'all women'. Wishes are powerful things. My first wish rearranged reality and my second teleported you to a different floor."

"But, to change the entire world?"

"I hope I'm wrong."

Becky's heart was pounding. "You said that was the most benign interpretation. What's the worst?"

"You wished that 'all women could experience the happiness we've found.' How did we achieve this happiness? We not only met and fell in love; we also killed your husband."

"You killed my husband."

"That's true. But it doesn't matter. The point is killing a spouse was part of the process of us obtaining happiness."

Becky gasped. "You mean..."

"Right now millions, no billions of women are killing their husband. Heck they may be killing all the men they are close to."

"What do we do? What do we do?!" shouted Becky.

Andrea grabbed her by the shoulders. "The first thing we do is calm down. We go out and look around. See what's what."

Becky nodded. They both got dressed and headed down the elevator to the lobby.

Before they left, Becky pocketed the ring.

Stepping into the lobby, everything seemed normal. A competent looking young woman sat behind the long front counter. She looked the two women up and down, as they approached. Especially Becky, who only had her evening gown to wear. "Can I help you?" she asked professionally.

"Can we speak to the manager?" Andrea asked.

"I'm sorry. The third shift manager is no longer with us. But I should be able to help you."

Andrea leaned over and saw the body of a man behind the counter. It looked like his head had been smashed in by something heavy.

She tried to suppress her shock and horror. "I-I see. We're fine right now. Thank you."

As they left the front desk clerk slipped Becky her card. "Call me if you get tired of her," she whispered.

The two went back up to Andrea's room.

"It's the worst case scenario," cried Andrea, after she had closed the door.

"Why do you say that?" asked Becky.

"You mean you didn't see behind the counter?" Andrea told her what she had seen.

"I still have two wishes," cried Becky. "I can undo what I've done."

She pulled the ring out of her pocket and slipped it on her finger. "I wish that the first wish I made never happened."

This time there was no flash of white light.

"Shit!" exclaimed Becky.

"What happened?" asked Andrea.

"The ring spoke to me, kind of. It told me that wishes could not be unmade by the person who wished it. Once spoken, they were permanent."

"Shit!" Andrea echoed.

"It did say a wish could be added onto, but not contradicted.

"It also said that I had just used up one of my wishes."

Andrea sighed, clutching her head. "So we have only one wish left."

"What can we do?" Becky cried.

The two sat on the edge of the bed, wracking their brains.

Andrea finally spoke. "The most important thing is to keep the men alive. I mean, without them the human race is doomed."

"There is cloning," said her partner.

"I try to keep up on science, and I haven't heard of any real advances in cloning lately. I don't want to risk humanity's future on possible future technology that might or might not pan out."

Becky nodded. "You're right. Let's work on our addition to the wish."

After ten minutes of writing and rewriting, seeing that time was of the essence; they came up with the best possible addendum to the original wish.

Becky stood up and rehearsed the wish a couple times before she put on the ring. Though nervous, she spoke with a clear voice. "I wish that all women, though they may wish all men dead, will realize that men are necessary for humanity's future, and a substantial number need to be preserved for procreation purposes."

The ring flashed with a white light.

Becky felt the power drain away from the ring. She sat down on the bed with a sigh. "Well, that's all we could do. I hope it's enough."


All over the globe, billions of men died with no warning, at the hands of the women they trusted most.

It was 1:04 am when Becky had made her first wish.

In Minneapolis it was just after midnight. Edith Connors woke up from a sound sleep and knew what she had to do. The question was how to do it. She looked at the knitting needles in her knitting basket, but rejected them. She needed something more reliable.

The septuagenarian got up, put on her heavy housecoat, and walked as softly as her arthritis would allow to the kitchen. In the knife holder was the long serrated knife, the one she used to trim fat off of steaks, and cut chicken breasts into cubes, when she made stir-fry. She pulled it out of its wooden holder. She admired the way the stainless steel blade flashed in the dim light of the nightlight that was in the hallway.

Taking it in her hand, she returned to her bedroom. Still asleep, was her husband of fifty-seven years, Roger. He was snoring softly on his side, facing away from Edith, on the edge of their queen-sized bed.

She crawled onto the bed, and reached over, so the serrated blade was against his throat. With no hesitation, Edith pushed down hard and gave a hard tug.

Just like that, Roger's jugular vein was severed. He let out a gasp, but couldn't talk, as his esophagus had been cut too. Pint upon pint of blood spilled onto the hardwood floor. In a minute, he was dead.

It was nice of Roger to sleep so close to the side, Edith mused. Blood stains were so hard to get out of sheets and blankets.

She pulled all the covers off of her ex-husband, and pushed his body onto the floor. She put the sheets and blankets back on and crawled back into bed.

Edith lay in bed, thinking if she needed to kill anyone else. Her son, Jack, who lived just two blocks away, came to mind, but she knew her daughter-in-law could take care of him. She could help her dispose of Roger's body in the morning.

Her father was in a nursing home several miles away, in very poor health. But she knew there were plenty of women on staff to take care of him.

And what to do about her four grandsons? Two of them weren't even men yet, according to Karen. Let the mother decide, she thought.

Unable to think of anyone else, she snuggled beneath the layers of warmth, and went back to sleep.


The police dispatcher picked up the line that had been ringing. "911 Dispatch, is this an emergency?"

"Yes, I am William Young. I live at 5811 S. Elm; and my fiancée, Diane, just tried to kill me. We were having sex, and she suddenly swung a lamp at my head!"

"Are either of you hurt?" asked the dispatcher, looking at the corpse of her male colleague that still had a phone cord wrapped around his neck.

"No, but I had to tie her up, so she wouldn't hurt me again. She won't say why she's so mad at me. I haven't done anything."

"Don't worry, Mr. Young. We'll dispatch a patrol car to residence immediately."

Within ten minutes, a patrol car pulled up to the house.

When William opened the door, the policewoman shot him twice between the eyes.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

The patrolwoman stepped over the body. She found Diane and untied her from a chair.


After five minutes, Karen Connors took the pillow off of her husband's face. He had long stopped struggling, but she wanted to make sure he wasn't just faking. His dead eyes stared up at the ceiling.

She sighed. Jack was the easy one. Now came the hard part: her four sons. Jack Jr. was a football lineman. He could easily overpower her if she wasn't careful.

She looked around the house for anything that could knock him out, like ether. Not finding anything, she crept toward her eldest son's bedroom door. There were no firearms in the house, so she decided to use a knife.

As she was about to open it, a thought occurred to her. These boys came out of her. They were her legacy. With no daughters, the four were only way to send her DNA into the future. She put down the knife, went to the phone, and dialed 911.

"911 Dispatch," said a female voice. "What is the nature is the nature of the emergency?"

"I have four young ones. Two of them are prepubescent."

"We'll get a car over soon. It may be an hour. We're very busy tonight."

"I understand."

Forty-five minutes later, a silent squad car pulled up with two policewomen inside. Karen escorted them inside, warning them about Jack Jr.

Using a stun gun and mace, the officers subdued him with minimal noise and fuss. They stripped off his underwear, cuffed him, and dragged him out to the squad car through the cold Minnesota night.

Tommy, or Thomas, as he wanted to be called, was a lot easier. He was the brains of the family, and wasn't much of a physical threat. They subdued him also, and dragged him out naked into the car.

As the officers were leaving, Karen asked "What do about the other two?"

"Take them to school tomorrow, as you normally do. The school will take care of them from there."


"Boys! Time to get up!"

Thirteen year old Jason Connors opened his eyes and looked over at his younger brother, Eric, who was still trying to sleep. Little brothers could be so annoying. He was looking forward to Jack going to college next fall. He'll get his own room then.

He swung his feet onto the floor and got dressed. He looked at the clock and gasped. "We're late! Kid! Get up!"

The ten year old groggily rolled out of bed.

They quickly dressed and headed down to the kitchen.

Their mom, Karen, had a glass of orange juice and a pop tart waiting for them. "Hurry up and eat; we're running late."

They wolfed down their breakfast and headed to the family SUV.

It was flurrying when the mother dropped Jason off at the circle drive in front of his junior high. She then drove a quarter mile to the elementary school where Eric went.

When Jason entered, a security guard stopped him. "Please come with me," she said, with her hand on her holster.

Mystified, he followed her into a large empty room where eight other boys were also waiting. Jason recognized several of them as his classmates. He asked the others what was going on, but they all had no clue.

After three more boys joined them, the security guard closed the door. "All of you take off your clothes, now."

There was a stunned silence. A couple of the younger ones snickered.

The female guard got angry. "Did I stutter? Strip, now!"

One of the oldest ones spoke up. "No, I won't..."

He was cut short by a bullet through his brain. He dropped to the ground dead.

The guard kept her gun aimed at the eleven boys. "Do I have your attention now? Undress now or I will shoot someone else. As a matter of fact, I will shoot the last boy who is still dressed."

Suddenly, all eleven sprang into action. They disrobed fearfully at a reckless pace. Buttons flew off shirts as they ripped off their clothes.

The guard nodded in satisfaction. "That's more like it. Now, pick up your clothes and follow me." She opened the door and exited the room.

Outside was another female guard, who followed the last of the train.

The boys discovered that there were no other males in the school, only girls. They all stopped and stared at the naked boys as they walked down the halls. Many pointed and laughed. Jason had never been so humiliated in his life.

Eventually, they wound up at the custodian's room. Inside was a large furnace that kept the school warm from the late autumn cold.

The guard opened the furnace door and pointed inside. "Everyone toss all you belongings in here."

One boy worked up the courage to speak. "Everything? Even my smartphone and my wallet?"

"You're right. Take out your wallets, and hand them to me. Everything else goes."

With two armed guards watching them, the boys had no choice but do what they said. Soon they were completely naked, with only their hands to cover themselves.

The head guard opened all the wallets, took out the money, pocketed it, and threw the empty wallets into the furnace. "That will be all," she said. "You better hurry, or you'll be late for class."

The stunned boys could not think of anything to say. They exited out of the furnace room. As they were leaving, they saw another group of naked boys with their crumpled clothes covering their crotches waiting outside.


The mortified thirteen-year-old walked down the hall to reach his first period English class.

When he got there, there were already three other boys, also nude, standing in front of the girls, who were seated at their desks. Mrs. Patterson, the teacher, motioned for Jason to join them. Two other joined him before the school bell rang.

Only a third of the boys were in attendance that day, while almost all the girls were there.

Mrs. Patterson was in her sixties, and had been teaching for nearly forty years. She cleared her throat, and the class immediately quieted. Addressing the boys she said "Turn and face the blackboard."

Wanting to hide their genitals, the boys gratefully complied.

From her desk the teacher picked up a foot long wooden paddle with an eight inch long handle... "When I first started teaching, we were allowed to give swats to any student that misbehaved. Soon after, the school board banned the practice. I've always thought that was a mistake. The possibility of physical punishment was an effective deterrent."

She flipped the paddle up in the air and effortlessly caught it by the handle. "Now, it seems, corporal punishment is back in style. These boys need to learn the new rules of life. They don't yet truly understand what's what yet. This period, they'll learn."

The teacher walked between the boys and the chalkboard, showing them the paddle. "Now, with each swat, I want you to say 'girls rule.' Understand? Because if you don't that swat won't count and I'll have to do it again."

One of the boys, the first one in line said, "Mrs. Patterson, I don't understand. What's...

He was cut off with a slap across his face. "It's not your job to understand why. You are just required to obey.

"Any more back talk and I'll ram the handle of this paddle so far up your ass; you'll not shit right for a week.

"Now lean forward, hands on the chalkboard. Any moving and you'll be sorry."

The six boys had no option but to do as their teacher said. Their butts were now stuck out from the rest of their body, making them an easy target.

With no further warning, the teacher lashed out. A loud smack echoed through the room. The first student cried out.

"What do you say?" said the educator.

"Girls rule," he sobbed.

"Not loud enough," she said, swinging the paddle two-handed. It landed on his ass again with the same loud results.

"Girls Rule!" he cried out.

"That's better," she laughed, getting ready for another swat.

Four more hits and she moved over to the next boy. The first boy was weeping in pain.

By the time she got to Jason, who was fourth in line, he thought he was ready. He gritted his teeth, so Mrs. Patterson would not have the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. But the first impact was such a shock; he could not help but yelp in pain. He did remember to yell the two word phrase that was required of him.

He had vowed that he wouldn't cry like the three before him. But the pain and humiliation was so intense, and delivered with such sadistic joy, he couldn't help it. Tears flowed from his eyes to the floor below.

By the time she finished with the sixth and last boy, Mrs. Patterson rubbed her shoulders. "I'm getting old. These swats took a lot out of me."

One of the girls sitting on the front row raised her hand.

"Yes, Emily?"

"Can I try?" she asked shyly.

The teacher smiled. "I don't see why not. One swat for each boy; we want to be fair.

"Who else wants a crack at these bastards?"

Every girl raised their hand.

By the time they were finished, every boy had been paddled over twenty times. Most weren't as hard as the first five, but each of them ended up with a butt colored a bright cherry red. Welts were starting to form.

When the last girl took her seat, Emily raised her hand.

"Yes, Emily?" said Mrs. Patterson.

"I walked to school in this icy slush. My shoes are a mess. Do you think one of these boys could clean them for me?"

She nodded. "Sure, why not. Anyone else have dirty shoes?"

About half the girls raised their hands.

"All right, boys, get on your hands and knees and get to work."

One of the boys raised his hand. "What do we clean with?"

"Why, with your tongue, of course. Now, get in there."

Jason crawled in front of Amy Powell's shoes. Amy used to be one of his friends. Her shoes had drying mud around the soles. He found that he couldn't bring himself lower his head and to lick her shoes.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure against her anus.

"Feel that?" asked Mrs. Patterson. "That's the handle of my paddle. If you don't start licking, you'll feel a lot more of it."

He steeled himself and lowered his tongue onto the dirty shoe. He tried not to think what was in the mud he was lapping up.

"That's better. Now, class, we're going to continue our study of easily misspelled words. Spell-check will not help you if you don't know which word is correct. Today, we're looking at 'there, ' 'their', and 'they're'..."

After about ten minutes, Jason finished his task. The grit of the dried mud was still between his teeth.

Amy looked at her shoes critically. "I suppose that'll have to do," she said with a sigh.

Standing up, he found that most of the other boys had finished their first set of shoes and had gone on the second. There were no more girls who needed him to clean her shoes.

"Just stand in the back, where I can keep an eye on you," said Mrs. Patterson. "Keep your hands behind your back."

After about five minutes, the bell rang, and the first period was over

During the break between classes, some of the boys tried to make a loincloth out of paper towels in the restroom. The first girl to see it ripped it off them, so they all gave up on any further attempts.

Jason's second period class was History. His male teacher was absent, so the whole class just sat there. The seven boys in the class clustered together, talking about what was wrong with all the females.

Jason had trouble sitting down for the first half of the period, as his rear still burned from the beating he'd gotten in English class.

The girls also huddled together. Laughing and flirting with each other. They also made snide and cruel remarks about the boys. They always said them loud enough for them to hear.

One of the boys, Frank Dobbs, whom Jason considered a not too close friend, stood up. "I've had enough. I'm getting out of here."

"But it's freezing out there," said Jason.

"I don't care. Anything is better than this." He turned and walked out of the room.

About ten seconds later, two gunshots rang out in the hall. They all ran out of the classroom.

Lying face down in a puddle of blood was Frank. Standing over him was another female guard Jason had not seen before. She simply shrugged her shoulders. "He was out in the hall without a pass."

Between the second and third period, a girl Jason had never seen stopped him. She demanded that he spread his legs and put his hands on his head. Both a security guard and a teacher holding a switch were watching, so he had no option but to comply.

When he did, the girl kicked him hard in the crotch. The guard, teacher, and girl all thought it was hysterical while he rolled on the ground in pain.

Third period was gym. The substitute teacher, a woman, had all twenty of the boys sit in a circle. For the next fifty minutes they just sat, looking at each other. Any talk resulted in a zap from the teacher's stun gun. Several boys who got zapped lost bladder control and peed on the floor.

Fourth period was lunch. When he entered the lunchroom he was directed to one of the cook personnel. "We are short staffed today. So you will be helping with cleaning the trays."

When each girl was done eating, she dumped the uneaten food into a trashcan and then put the tray on a conveyor belt. The belt led to a room where Jason sprayed water on each tray, then put it on its side in a plastic rack. When a rack was full, another boy slid it into an industrial washer that cleaned and sterilized the trays in thirty seconds. Another boy pulled the rack out the other side, stacked the trays, and took them back to the serving line.

Under the careful supervision of a lunch lady, they did the repetitive task all lunch period long.

When the last tray went through, his supervisor asked what his name was. When Jason told her, she said "I'll ask for you again tomorrow."

That was the closest he had gotten to a compliment that day.

"Where is our lunch?" he asked.

The supervisor pointed to the trashcans full of half-eaten food. "Knock yourself out," she said.

Jason decided he could skip lunch.

The rest of the day, which included Math, Science, and German went as well as could be expected. Sure he was teased by the teachers and girls, but at least no one assaulted him. None of the teachers gave him or any of the boys any homework, or expected anything from them.

When he worked up the nerve to ask his science teacher why this was so, she shrugged and said, "You aren't going to be here long. As soon as you hit puberty, you will be transferred over to join the adult men."

When the final bell rang, Jason was never so glad for a day to be over. He hoped his mom would park her car close to the exit, so he wouldn't freeze before he got in.

The same guard that greeted him in the morning blocked his exit. "You aren't going anywhere; report to the boys' gym."

In the gym were the hundred-odd boys who were what remained of the original five hundred that went to school the day before.

For the first time, they felt free to talk. Many talked about how they had seen their mother kill their father and older brothers in cold blood. They had fled to school, only to find it just as bad there. Jason realized that he hadn't seen his father or older brothers that morning.

A quick survey showed that almost all of the survivors had older brothers, or at least a father. The missing boys were either the oldest child, or from a family that was fatherless.

Jason told his fellow captives about what his science teacher had said about them waiting for puberty.

"I can't wait until I join the men," said one of the boys. "It's got to be better than this."

Jason was so sure.

About half an hour into this bull session, the head security guard walked into the gym. Her gun was prominent on her hip. "Everyone line up against the back wall."

They all hurried to comply.

The female guard paced in front of them. "You may not know this, but we have lost most of our custodial staff. You boys are going to take up the slack." They counted the boys off into four teams.

Jason ended up pushing a big wheeled trash can down the hallways, going to each classroom and dumping the small waste cans into the big one. When the big can got full, he took it out to the dumpster outside.

Outside, it was well below freezing. Being out there, nude, for even a few minutes was intolerable. With the weather only to get colder in the coming months, the prospect of getting away from the school was remote, at best.

After other teams finished their sweeping, mopping, and buffing, they all gathered in the cafeteria. The head guard pointed to the trash cans that still had the leftovers from lunch. "Before we take this out to the dumpsters, we thought you might want to get your supper out of it first."

Jason's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. Hunger finally trumped his disgust. He scanned a bag and found a half-eaten pizza slice that was in pretty good shape. It was soggy in spots from spilled milk, but he ate it anyway.

All the other boys joined him in scrounging through the trash.

When they were done scavenging, Jason and the other members of his team took the remaining trash outside. When he got back, they were all taken back to the boys' gymnasium.

"This is where you'll sleep, from now on. We'll try and get you some cots, but don't hold your breath. Until then you'll have to sleep on the floor."

The lights in the gym were turned off, leaving just a few emergency lights on. Each boy found a place to sleep. Jason laid down on the hard wood floor, facing the bleachers. As they were still naked, the low temperature of the room got more and more unbearable. Jason started to shiver.

Some boys went into the locker room and found some towels. They used them as improvised blankets and pillows. Jason didn't think it was prudent.

A half hour later he was proved right. A guard came in, and saw the towels. She called in the other guards. "What made you think you could steal school property?!" They proceeded to punch and kick the offenders, leaving them bruised and battered. The guard took the towels then left.

The assaulted boys started to weep. Others, including Jason, joined them. The shock and trauma of what they had gone through that day finally caught up with them. They all ended up sleeping cuddled together, conserving body heat. They all felt scared and alone. The physical contact comforted them, and allowed them to sleep.

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