The Purge (ballbusting style)

Jack sat alone in his apartment, eyes fixated on the digital clock attached to the second-hand microwave oven perched precariously on edge of the cracked countertop. The clock read 6:58 pm. Only two minutes to go before the siren sounded city wide.

Not again, he thought. He glanced down at the barcode tattooed on his left wrist. Maybe this time he’d slip under the radar...go unnoticed..be relieved of his duty and responsibility. Yeah, like that was going to happen. 6:59.

He reached for the crusty remote control on the table and clicked on the television. Every channel would show the same thing. Thirty seconds before the siren went off, the public service announcement would begin...hah! Should be “pubic” service announcement. Here we go:

First thing to appear was the logo...the logo for the New Founding Mothers of America, that is. The NFMA. There it was on the TV. It was about to start. Then came the voice. That calm, soothing female voice describing the how the next 12 hours would be for every man in the city. And then it started…

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Monthly Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government. All weapons of any class are restricted from use. No Government officials have been granted immunity from the Purge. Commencing at the siren, any and all ballbusting will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Males may not refuse, resist, or retreat from any attempt or request at ballbusting from any female person. Males with odd number IDs are required to report to any public area immediately upon conclusion of the siren. Failure to comply with any of these terms will result in swift and severe punishment. Remember, we are watching. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will not be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes. Blessed be our New Founding Mothers, and blessed be America, a nation reborn. May God and all her wisdom be with you all.

And so it begins. Jack swallowed hard and glanced up at the government issued video camera installed in the upper corner of his small apartment. The red light changed to green. He then glanced down at the ID number on his left wrist. It was an odd number. With a sudden flinch, he tilted his head to the side. Everytime that implanted tracking beacon turned on it gave him a short but effective tingle. They were right - they were watching.

But maybe this time no one would think of him alone in his apartment. There are just too many guys in the city to notice him, right? He didn’t have many friends, certainly not many female friends. Most of his coworkers were males. He’d be safe, right? Then came the pounding. He jumped, startled by the fierce knock on the door.

A female voice called out: “Jack Willis, ID Number 2349987, you are required to report to a public location immediately. Open the door and report. You have 10 seconds to comply.”

How on earth did they find him so fast? He knew that failure to comply was a bad idea so he slowly got up off the couch. The count had reached 2 when he opened the door revealing 3 members of the local female NFMA militia decked out in combat gear and wielding assault weapons waiting for him to exit the apartment.

“Let’s go, it’s your duty to report,” said the lead officer.

Just then the door across the hall opened. Standing in the doorway was Linda, his next door neighbor of 3 years.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I’d like to take a shot or two before he goes.”

The officers stepped aside. “As it is your right, ma’am. Please proceed.”

“Hi Jack,” Linda said with a wry smile. “Do you remember all those times I asked you to turn down your music and you didn’t?”

“I...I…,” stammered Jack.

“Well this is for being a shitty neighbor,” said Linda as she stepped forward, grabbed his shoulders, and drove a fierce, and well-placed knee right into Jack’s balls.

Jack’s hands went instinctively to protect his nuts, but the attack was sudden and effective. He bent forward and fell to the ground with a moan. Linda stood over him satisfied, yet defiant. The

three lady officers laughed and cheered and high-fived. One of them said: “This is my favorite day of the month.” The others agreed.

The “Testicle” Purge was originally meant to be one day a year, but due to overwhelming support and demand it was changed to one day a month. ‘Why should only women feel crotch pain every month?’ was the call to action. The vote to change the frequency received near unanimous approval.

“Come on, Jack? You don’t think that’s all I have for you, do you?

Jack moaned.

“Open those legs.”

Jack did not open his legs. At once, three assault rifles took aim on his crotch. “Open those legs or lose those balls completely,” said the lead officer.

Jack opened his legs.

“Lie flat on your back,” said Linda.

Jack lay back, closed his eyes and waited.”

Linda straightened up, moved in close between his legs, then dropped a vicious right knee hard into his crotch.

Ewws and Ahhs rang out from the officers.

Jack rolled up into a ball and began to heave.

Linda stood back and admired her handiwork. With a satisfied grin, she turned to her door, but then stopped and looked back at Jack on the floor. “See you next month...neighbor.” To the police she said: “Go ahead, take him.”

Linda closed the door and the women lifted Jack off the floor and took him to the elevator.

“Come on buddy, your night is just getting started…”

To Be Continued...

Come back for the further adventures of Testicle Purge night...

Find out what happens to Jack, as his adventures are just beginning.

Look for additional accounts of other events around the city, such as:

Nicole and Bill. The wealthy couple whose marriage is about to take on a new direction.

Christine, Cindy and their two older brothers Mike and Joe. Family reunions will never be the same.

The ‘Ten Pound Balls’, an all female bowling team. Watch the balls and pins fly down the lane. How many strikes will they get?

And many more…

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