Molly (Empowered Girls I)
Where were you when all the girls got powers?
Not all of them, to be fair. No one really knows how many girls are powered, not even the government. Some powers are difficult to track, others are so dramatic that they overshadow everything else. But you know how the world works now. Women are in charge, men are ... lesser. In some places, we’re property. And I was there when it happened. And ... I know when it all became real to me.
You think that’s odd, don’t you? You’re a man. Right? But you were born after the change. Your father was born after the change. You grew up in a very different world to me. Me ...?
I was eighteen, on the day of the change. It was ... different. Young men were stronger than young women. We knew we could push them around. And yet, our society was quite civilised. A man who beat up a woman could expect punishment, if she reported him. There were others that treated women as ... as you’re treated now, as little more than breeding stock. They exploded and died, shortly after the change. We thought it served them right, back then. We didn’t understand the truth. Our society was based on male power, on male supremacy, and it wouldn’t long survive the sudden collapse of our power. It died on the Day of the Change. We tried to pretend that all was normal, even after the powers burst into the spotlight, but it wasn’t. The world as we knew it was gone.
I was a teenager, at school, when it happened.
You grew up in a village. There were more students in my year, in my school, than there are people in the entire village. There were boys who harassed girls and girls who cock-teased boys and teachers who did nothing about either. I wasn’t at the top of the social hierarchy, but I wasn’t at the bottom either. I had a girlfriend and a life. Molly ...
Do I smile when I say her name? Or do I look nervous, unsure of myself? Molly was ...
She was beautiful. Her mother was Japanese, her father as American as apple pie. She had tinted skin, almond eyes, long dark hair and perfect breasts. I loved to touch them, when she let me. She was also shy, unwilling to go too far. She wasn’t as free as any of the boys, or the girls you grew up with. We were both virgins. I hoped, as we grew older and more comfortable with each other, that she would eventually go all the way together. I thought she wanted it too.
And then came the Day of the Change.
It left us reeling. One moment, we were the lords of creation. The next, we could be zapped at will. There were strong boys, boys with muscles on their muscles and very little brain worth the mentioning, lying on the ground, screaming in agony. Or worse. There were girls who could make you do anything, or inflict pain with a touch, or even turn you into a toad. The powers jumped from girl to girl before anyone realised what was happening, changing the world in their wake. There were hundreds of girls who wanted revenge, on the boys who’d groped them, on fathers and stepfathers who’d abused them ... it was a nightmare. Us boys were all shell-shocked, unable to comprehend what had happened; the girls were laughing and mocking and snapping blue sparks at us, making us flinch. I was one of the lucky ones, I suppose. I didn’t get zapped. Not then.
Molly stayed shy, at first. I wasn’t even sure she had any powers. Not that I tested her, of course. I’d seen too many boys screaming in agony. We stayed much the way we’d been until the camps were opened, offering to train woman in the use of their powers. Molly went. I was never sure why. She didn’t need it, did she?
And then she came back to me.
My parents had split up, shortly after the Day of the Change. My father drove away and was never seen again. I don’t know what happened to him. My mother worked hard to keep us afloat, a harder task now boys and men were becoming increasingly restricted in their daily lives. It was harder to go out now without a female guardian, be it mother or girlfriend. I was praying Molly would come back soon, so we could go out. A man alone risked being attacked. They called it ‘chastisement,’ the legal right for all women to put men in their place if they misbehaved. To us ... ah, you know what I mean. Of course you do.
Molly looked different, when she came home. She’d gone to camp a girl and come back a woman. She carried herself like a confident young woman, rather than a shy young girl. She had never worn tight clothing before, but she did now. I stared at her, as I opened the door and let her into my house. I was alone. Perhaps things would have been different, if my mother had been there. Or perhaps not. She’d approved of Molly long before the Day of the Change.
I moved to kiss her and she gave me the touch.
You know what I mean, don’t you? It’s tradition, now, for a young man to be given the barest flicker of a woman’s power. I felt a tingle and ... and I couldn’t move. My body was frozen and yet ... I stiffened, my cock suddenly so hard it was almost painful. Molly held me in her power for a long moment, a few seconds that felt like an eternity before she let me go. A wave of submission came over me. I slumped to my knees, staring helplessly at her feet. I believe I would have done anything she told me, anything at all. I was completely at her mercy ...
I was terrified. And yet, I was excited. I wanted to stay and I wanted to run ...
You know what I mean, don’t you? You’re more than old enough to have felt it for yourself.
She looked down at me, then spoke. “Strip.”
I obeyed, without hesitation. I wasn’t sure if she’d made me obey—or if it was a strange combination of fear and lust driving me onwards—but it didn’t matter. I undressed quickly, standing naked in front of her. She stared, her eyes lingering on my swollen cock. I wanted to take her in my arms and yet I didn’t dare. I’d never been afraid of Molly until she’d given me the touch and yet, I wanted her to do it again. And again.
She reached out and ran her hands down my chest. I could feel her power prickling at me, holding me still. My heart beat so loudly I was sure she could hear it as she turned me around, her hands lingering on my bare buttocks for a long moment. Her fingers stroked my bum, then I felt a jolt. I’d put her over my knee once, for a joke. Now, it didn’t seem anything like so funny.
The pain shocked me out of my trance. “Hey ...”
She gave me the touch, again. I fell silent, unable to resist as she steered me to the bedroom. My legs moved of their own accord. I honestly wasn’t sure if she was controlling me or if she was just pushing me, making me move without conscious thought. My cock was rock hard as I stumbled onto the bed, bent over in perfect position for a spanking. I expected one—or another jolt—before she directed me to roll over, to lie face up on the bed. Her face was cool, yet ...
I shivered. I couldn’t move. Her dark eyes held me in place. I couldn’t do anything without her permission. I was hers ...
Molly had always been shy. I’d never seen her naked before. Even topless had been too much to ask, before the Day of the Change. Now, she undressed with an ease and confidence that held me spellbound. Her breasts bobbled in front of me, her dark nipples as hard as my cock. Her long brown legs were perfect. Her pussy was shaved, already gleaming with moisture. I wanted her. God, I wanted her. But I couldn’t move.
She straddled me, her hands on my cock. The first time she’d touched me, I’d come within seconds. This time, I felt her power reaching into my groin, taking control. I was hard, permanently on the brink of climax without exploding. She lifted her hips and pressed down on me, taking me inside her. I felt my body shift of its own accord, starting to move within her. I gasped as waves of pleasure and pain overwhelmed me, driven by a dull realisation I was being fucked. She had taken me, as surely as ... my heart spun, even as she rode me to her first climax. I wanted it and I didn’t want it and it was all consensual and I was being raped and ... her breasts bounced in front of me, her nipples shining as sweat dripped from her skein and fell onto me. She came, again and again, then looked at me and smiled. I felt myself near the brink and ... my thoughts were swept away in an orgy of raw feeling, her power carrying away the last of my will to resist. If I hadn’t been lying down, I would have collapsed in a heap. She had made me hers.
“Molly,” I managed. “What ...?”
She touched me, again. I lay still. And quiet.
It was wonderful. It was terrible. We spent most of the day in bed together, her in charge. Always in charge, my cock hardening at her command. She touched me whenever I tried to take the lead, sending me spinning once again into helpless submission. I loved it and I hated it and ... I knew, as we showered before my mother returned to join us for dinner, that it was going to be the rest of my life. I hadn’t realised, until it was too late, that my position was now dependent on a female guardian. I was moving from my mother’s household to Molly. I was her husband. I was her property.
Did I try to resist? Yes, I did. I tried to maintain some degree of independence, of the rights I and my peers had once taken for granted. It didn’t get me anywhere. Molly would sometimes tolerate it, sometimes not. When she didn’t ... she’d bend me over the bed and zap my bottom, or send me to the corner like a naughty little boy. Molly never hurt me permanently, but she didn’t have to. I was her property. The internet—gone now, lost in the apocalypse war—was filled with horror stories about what happened to men who ran away from their wives. The lucky ones were brought back home and chastised. The unlucky ones were simply killed, their bodies left to rot. I was lucky. It could have been a great deal worse.
We had children eventually; two boys, two girls. The boys knew their place, right from birth. The girls ... I never dared raise a hand to them, swallowing their disrespect helplessly. I had no choice. I watched the boys get the touch, get married, move out ... one of them, I never saw him again. His wife didn’t believe in letting him out the house.
You think this is normal, don’t you? You have very little freedom. You can be chastised at any moment. Your sisters are your superiors, ready to zap you if you go too far or if they’re simply in a bad mood. Maybe it is normal, to you. To me? The world turned upside down, on the Day of the Change.
I don’t know why I’m still alive. I’m old enough to be your great-grandfather. Molly died years ago. I don’t know why my daughters haven’t claimed her property for themselves. It isn’t as if I could stop them. But I’m the last person, as far as I know, who remembers the world before the Day of the Change.
You want my advice, young man? Choose your wife carefully, because you’ll be stuck with her. You will be at her mercy. But you know what? Before the Day of the Change, this was what it was like for young women. They were at our mercy. And now we’re at theirs.
Who knows? Perhaps, many centuries in the future, it will change once again.