Kicking for A Million

Kicking for A Million. By kickthem 03-04-2010

“Here is my new story. I hope you enjoy it. I really enjoyed writing it. Be aware that it is very brutal at times.”

Kicking for A Million

I was just finishing reading a chapter in my latest book when I heard the garage door open. My wife was home from work.

“Honey, I’m home,” I heard her call out.

“Up here in the den,” I answered.

Unfortunately, I have been unemployed for quite a few months now, and my wife, Paula, provides our only source of income. While she has a decent job, things are tight financially and I feel bad about not being able to provide for us. She’s been very understanding about the situation. She knows I’ve been doing my best to find work, but it’s tough out there. There’s just nothing available.

I set my book aside as I heard her footsteps approaching up the stairs. High-heeled footsteps. Sigh…

“Hi, Paula,” I said as my lovely wife entered the room. “How goes the old rat race?”

“Same old shit,” she answered. “But I’ve come up with an idea of how we can earn some money.” There was an evil grin on her face as she said this.

“How’s that?” I asked, a bit apprehensively.

“You’ve heard of that show on cable called ‘Kicking for a Million’?”

“Um, yes, I’ve heard of it.” Actually, I had seen it a few times.

“Well, you’re going to be a contestant.”

My heart sank. ‘Kicking for a Million’ was a brutal show. The premise was simple – to win a million dollars a guy had to take three kicks in the balls from one of the models. The catch was that his balls still had to be intact after the kicks. While this might not sound impossible, the fact was that they had never given away the million-dollar prize. You see, all the models on the show that do the kicking are professional ball-busters. They train specifically to kick as hard as possible. No contestant had ever gotten to the third kick.

One of the models, Melissa, is a former soccer player. She’s 5’-10” with sleek muscular legs that look as though they could crush concrete. The show opens with a close-up of a soccer ball. Then Melissa’s foot swoops through and sends it flying about 80 yards. The camera cuts to her smiling face as she asks, “Ready for some FOOT-ball?”

“Gee, Paula, I know money is tight, but do you really think that’s a good idea? You know what happens to the guys on that show.”

“Yes. Their balls get annihilated.” She said this with such indifference that a cold fear flowed through my veins.

“Do you really think I have a chance against those women they have on the show?”

“The odds are against it,” she admitted. “But the payoff is so big I think it’s worth the risk.” She smiled.

“But… you’re not taking any risk. These are my BALLS we’re talking about. I kind of like having them.”

“Why do you really need them?” she asked. “We have no intention of having any kids. The best-case scenario would be that you become sterile. If the worst happens… well, a doctor removes your balls and you move on. What could be simpler?”

“But Paula, it will HURT! It will hurt a lot!” I protested.

“It will only hurt for a little while,” she countered. “If it’s really bad, you’ll likely pass out. When you wake up the doctor will have removed your balls and the pain will be gone. And look at the bright side. You know they offer a prize of $50,000 just for taking the last kick. So if you can survive the first two it will all be worth it. Besides, your balls are tough. You love it when I kick you.”

“I know, Paula, but as strong and athletic as you are, you never let me have it as hard as you can. The women on that show are professionals and don’t hold back. You’ve seen how far Melissa kicks that soccer ball. And there’s Julie, the ex-Olympic high-jumper. How many times has she ruined a guy's balls after just one kick?”

“I know I’ve never kicked you as hard as those women will. But I think our games over the years have toughened your balls enough to take the best they have to offer. So, I don’t want to hear any more arguments. I sent in the application a few weeks ago and I’ve received the approval. You ARE going to be on that show.”

“Ohh, Paula, you know I’d do most anything for you, but…”

“No buts! The deal is done. You are going to win us some money. I’m sure you will be able to make history and take the last kick and win at least the $50,000. And you never know… you just MIGHT win the million.”

I could say nothing more. My fate was sealed. I had to hope my balls didn’t disintegrate after two kicks. I had to win some money.

“When will I be on the show?” I asked, wondering just how much longer I would be intact.

“Next week,” Paula grinned. “They had a cancellation and moved you to that slot.”

Now that I had resigned myself to my fate, I knew at least I didn’t have to wait long. In a week it would all be over.

“And to make sure you’re in top shape, I’m going to kick your balls five times every night,” Paula said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Now, get your clothes off and spread those legs.”

Reluctantly, I stood up and stripped. Paula watched with a critical eye as I stood with my legs spread and hands clasped behind my back. She moved to a position in front of me and gauged the distance for her kicks. She kept her high heels on for the deed.

The first kick came.

SMACK!

Her foot flew into my defenseless balls and scored a direct hit. While it was a firm kick, it was nowhere near what I would have to take on the show. I grunted and my knees buckled slightly, but I held my position.

The second kick was on its way.

SMACK!

This one was a little harder than the first but still tolerable. The third kick found its mark.

SMACK!

This was noticeably harder than the second kick and I went down to one knee briefly, but I quickly resumed the proper position. Paula was observing my reactions with a clinical eye.

She launched her foot into my balls for the fourth time.

SPLATT!

This one really hurt - a result of the cumulative effect of the first three kicks and that this one was the hardest kick yet. I fell to both knees, gasping. I stayed down for a few seconds, took several deep breaths, and then resumed the proper stance.

Paula nodded and smiled with satisfaction. “Very good, so far. This last kick is going to be really hard, so get ready,” she warned.

I gritted my teeth and waited. With a look of grim determination on her lovely face, Paula wound up and sent her foot crashing into my balls.

SPLATT!

I crumpled to the ground in utter agony. She had never kicked me anywhere near this hard before.

“My God, Paula!” I gasped. “Are you trying to ruin me before I ever get to the show?”

“I know that last one was really bad, but you need to be able to take it if you’re going to get to that last kick on the show. Are your balls okay?” she asked.

Very gingerly, I felt my battered nuts. As far as I could tell, they were just bruised. “I – I think so,” I groaned.

“Good. I’ll get you an ice bag to keep the swelling down. We’ll practice like this every night until the night before you appear on the show.”

As I lay on the ground in agony, clutching my balls, I wondered how I would survive the training, let alone the show.

* * * * *

Every night, for the next five nights, as promised, Paula kicked me in the balls – five times, every night. I had to admire her enthusiasm. She really let me have it. After each session, my balls ached so badly that I wished she would cut them off. But, I was learning to take an increasing level of pain and my balls were getting tougher. I began to believe that I would just be able to take the big money kick. After all, Paula was kicking me five times and I only had to take three to win the $50,000. And if I was really lucky, my balls might actually survive the third kick and I’d win the million.

The night before I was to appear on the show, Paula let me rest. As we went to bed that night she said, “Just think, honey, tomorrow night at this time we could be millionaires, if your balls are as strong as I think they are. I know I’ve been especially cruel these last few days, but if you’re going to win a prize, you have to be ready.”

I nodded in agreement. “I know, Paula. At first, I was terrified of going on that show, but now I think I’ve actually got a chance to win the big prize. I don’t know how the women on the show could kick any harder than you have this last week. Even if it’s only a little bit harder, I just know I can take it.”

“That’s my boy,” Paula said as she gave me a peck on the cheek. She reached over and tuned out the light, leaving me to my thoughts.

* * * * *

We arrived at the studio at the time the producer had instructed us to. We were shown to a dressing room and I was told to strip. There would be three contestants on the show tonight and I was scheduled last. We would be able to watch the show on a monitor.

“Well, this is it,” I said to Paula nervously. “My big chance.”

“Relax,” she soothed. “You’ll do just fine. I know it will hurt a lot, but you know as well I do it will be worth it.”

I nodded and went about my business of stripping. As I did, we heard the opening music for the show. As I looked up I saw Melissa’s foot pound the soccer ball and then her smiling face as she asked, “Ready for some FOOT-ball?”

A sudden chill coursed through my body as I realized what I was about to do.

Now the gorgeous female emcee was on stage and she explained the rules.

“Welcome, everyone, to another edition of ‘Kicking for a Million’, the show where any man has a chance to become a millionaire. All he has to do is risk losing his balls.” A wicked grin appeared on her pretty face.

“First, the rules. To win a million dollars, a man must take three kicks from one of our models. After the third kick, his balls must be intact. If they are, he wins. If his balls survive the first two kicks and he attempts to take the third, he wins $50,000. As you all know, only two men have ever survived even two kicks, but they both chickened out and refused to take the third.

“Now, let’s meet our models,” she said as she turned to the curtain at the back of the stage.

“First up we have Melissa.” A loud round of cheers erupted from the audience as Melissa walked out on stage, smiling. “Of course, you all know her from our intro. She is 5’-10” and a retired soccer player who still holds the record for scoring the most goals in the competition. On our show, she has kicked a total of 26 men. 24 of them lost their balls on the first kick. The other two took a second kick and are now eunuchs.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the audience.

“Next, we have Julie,” continued the emcee. “She is six feet tall and a former world record holder in the women’s high jump. Julie has kicked a total of 22 men. NONE of them survived the first kick.”

The audience rose in a standing ovation as Julie took her spot on the stage. She smiled appreciatively and bowed.

“Our third model is Marie,” the emcee went on when the applause died down. “She is 5’-8” and a downhill skier with several World Cup titles to her name.” Another enthusiastic round of applause rose from the audience. “Marie has kicked 18 men on our show and only one tried the second kick. He was very sorry he did.”

There was more laughter from the audience as Marie waved and took her mark.

“Our fourth model is Annie,” the emcee announced. “She is 5’-9” and held several world records in speedskating before retiring and joining our team.” Annie walked out to yet another round of applause. “Annie has kicked 24 men. Strangely, six of them survived the first kick and took the second. It’s my humble opinion she sandbags the first kick once in a while just to be a little cruel.”

Annie shrugged her shoulders as if to say, ‘Who, me?’

The audience applauded their approval.

“Our fifth and final model is Heidi. She is a professional dancer. She’s only 5’-4”, but those dancer’s legs of hers pack an enormous wallop.”

Heidi walked out to more appreciative applause.

“Heidi is our most experienced kicker. She has kicked 34 men on our show. Only four of them tried taking a second kick. And every one of them was very sorry.”

The audience rose in yet another standing ovation to honor all the models. Five beautiful women, all dressed in tight mini-skirts, snug-fitting knit shirts and, of course, elegant high-heeled classic black pumps, bowed to their admirers.

“When we come back, we’ll have our first contestant in his attempt to become a millionaire.”

As the show cut away to a commercial, my earlier confidence was rapidly evaporating.

“Paula, did you hear those numbers?” I asked. “I – I’m not so sure I’ll be able to win.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she scolded. “I guarantee you none of the other men who have appeared on this show have trained the way you have. You are ready and you can do it. Yes, I know it will hurt, and there is a chance you will lose your balls, but I just don’t think that will happen.”

“I know, but… I was counting and they’ve had 124 guys try this. Only thirteen even took a SECOND kick. No one has ever attempted taking a third.”

“Stop doubting yourself,” Paula said. “I know you’re much better than ANY of those others. You may not win the million, but I’m positive you’ll last through two kicks and get the chance.”

I was about to say something else when the show came back on after the commercial.

“Welcome back,” said the emcee. “Now I’d like to introduce our first contestant. He is 34 years old and says he’s going to win the big prize. Let’s welcome, Stan.”

The audience applauded politely as Stan, completely naked, walked out on stage. He gave a polite wave to the audience.

“Welcome to the show, Stan,” said the emcee. “You know our rules, so now it’s time to pick your model. Tammie, bring out the wheel.”

A beautiful young woman brought in a large wheel with five wedge-shaped sections. Each wedge had the name of one of the models.

“All right, Stan, it’s time to pick your kicker. Give the wheel a spin.”

Nervously, Stan stepped over to the wheel and gave it a mighty spin. Round and round it went until it came to a stop with the pointer on Marie.

“Congratulations, Stan. You’ve won the honor of being kicked by the lovely Marie. You know I’d be lying if I told you she’ll be gentle with you.”

A round of laughter rose from the audience. Stan just shrugged.

“Before we get started,” the emcee continued, “Stan, please tell us something about yourself.”

“Well,” he said softly, “I’m an accountant and I finally decided I need to try something really exciting. All my life I’ve been a total bore. I figured, why not take a shot at this?”

“Thank you, Stan. Now let’s show a clip of Marie in action so Stan gets an idea of what he’s in for.”

The clip began playing on the monitors in the studio. A previous contestant was standing naked in front of Marie with his legs spread, ready to receive her first kick. His cock was stiff and pointing up to the ceiling.

“So, I see you like the idea of what’s about to happen to you, eh?” Marie teased. The muscles in her legs rippled as she strutted back and forth in front of the nervous man. Her high heels clicked ominously on the hard floor. She moved into position and gauged the distance she needed to kick. One step… leg swing… contact. The man flinched as the toe of Marie’s pump nudged his balls.

“Scared?” Marie asked.

“A little,” he replied.

“You should be. I’m going to turn your balls into paste.”

“Here we go!” shouted the emcee.

Marie took her mark and wasted no time. She took her step and let her foot fly at a seemingly impossible velocity dead center in the man’s balls.

There was a horrible, sickening ‘splat’ sound as Marie’s shoe did its worst. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed in a pathetic heap, unconscious. His body convulsed as the medical staff rushed out to examine him.

The audience roared its approval for Marie, who graciously bowed.

The clip ended and Stan had turned white as a sheet.

“What’s the matter, Stan, having second thoughts?” asked the emcee.

“Uh… gee… I – I didn’t realize… it would be so… brutal.”

“What did you expect?” asked the emcee. “A love tap? Come on, man. There’s a huge prize at stake here. This is REAL.”

Now Marie walked over in front of him and brushed her fingers over Stan’s naked balls. “Come on, big fella, it will only hurt for a little while. And who knows? You might win.”

At the contact of Marie’s fingers with his balls, Stan’s penis immediately grew to full erection.

“Now THAT’S what I like to see from my men on this show, some respect,” Marie teased.

“Okay, Stan, please take your spot,” coached the emcee. “It’s time to play ‘Kicking for a Million!”

The audience cheered as Stan hesitantly stood on the designated spot. Marie went through her pre-kick routine, strutting back and forth in front of Stan, letting him get a good view of her powerful legs. To her, the man knowing exactly what she was going to do to him was a total turn-on.

She stepped up and did her distance check. When the toe of her pump brushed Stan’s balls, his cock trembled mightily.

“Whoa, slow down there, Stan. No cumming on the model’s footwear,” the emcee warned.

The audience laughed. Poor Stan was visibly shaking.

Marie stood close to Stan and said, “What’s the matter, Stan? Afraid you might lose your balls?”

“Umm… y-yes…” he whispered.

“Well, you’re right. Consider yourself a eunuch.”

With that Marie turned and took her mark. With her trademark step, she sent her high-heeled foot flying toward Stan’s defenseless balls.

The sound of her foot contacting his balls was even more nauseating live than that on the tape. Marie, of course, scored a direct hit. Stan was actually lifted off his feet a few inches, so forceful was the impact. He gasped and simply crumpled to the floor, out cold. The audience roared.

As the medical staff came out to attend to Stan, the emcee announced, “It looks like Marie’s done it again, folks. That’s her nineteenth first-kick ball destruction. When we come back, we’ll meet our second contestant.”

As the show cut to commercial, I looked at Paula and said, “Did you see what she did to that man? With only one kick? How will I ever survive two of those and be able to take a third? All of those models kick at least that hard.”

Even Paula was beginning to have some doubts. “I guess I didn’t realize just what these women were capable of. Until you see it for real, you don’t understand just how much force they generate.”

“My balls are as good as gone,” I whined. “If I survive one kick, she’ll be so pissed off that the second kick will not only turn them to mush, she’ll drive what’s left of them into my throat.”

“Calm down,” soothed Paula. “You are in much better shape than Stan. I still say you have a chance. Now, don’t think about it. Just prepare yourself as best you can.”

The commercial ended and the show was back on. I tried not to pay quite so much attention. I saw the next contestant come out and spin the wheel. It landed on Annie. As with Marie, they played a clip of Annie’s most recent performance. I tried not to watch. But I couldn’t block out the horrible sound of her foot landing in his balls at about a hundred miles an hour. I sat on a bench with my head bowed. My time was getting closer.

When I next looked up, I couldn’t have picked a worse time. Annie was taking her step and launching her foot into the man’s balls. The sound it made was unearthly. There was no way she was sandbagging today. She gave everything she had on her first kick.

The poor guy just straightened up and fell over, holding what was left of his balls. As the medics rushed out to tend to him, Annie looked into the camera, smiling, and said, “Any questions as to how it’s done?”

The emcee said, “Well, that’s two down and one to go. Can our last contestant break through and win tonight? We’ll find out when we come back.”

That would be me. It was almost time. I was terrified.

A stagehand stuck her head in the door and said, “Two minutes. Get undressed.”

I felt like a man on death row might as I slowly peeled off my clothes. I looked at Paula. She smiled at me and whispered, “You can do it.”

I had strong doubts, but I was going to give it my best. I was determined to make whoever kicked me work as hard as she ever had.

“You’re on,” the stagehand said.

I walked down the short hall and onto the stage. The audience was applauding politely, as they did for all contestants.

“Welcome to the show,” the emcee greeted me. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

“Well, unfortunately, I’m unemployed right now. My wife got me on the show to hopefully win some money.”

“Really?” the emcee looked puzzled. “Why would your wife want you to get your balls not only kicked, but likely destroyed?”

“She doesn’t think I need them anymore. But she also thinks I have a chance to win at least the $50,000. We’ve been playing ballbusting games for years and she thinks my balls are a lot tougher than most.”

“I see…” the emcee mused. “Well, let’s find out if it’s true. Let’s see if your balls are tougher than most. Let’s spin the wheel.”

I stepped over to the wheel and gave it a good spin. I sort of half-smiled at the emcee while we waited for it to stop.

“There it is… we have… JULIE!”

Oh no! Julie had never failed to destroy a contestant’s balls on the first kick! I was really in for it.

“All right,” smirked the emcee. “Now we’ll see just how tough those balls of yours are. Come on over, Julie, and show us what you’ve got.”

The tall, ravishing, beautiful Julie strutted over to me. I couldn’t help but admire the way the muscles in her legs rippled. The clicking of her high heels was like a funeral dirge for my balls. Despite my fear, my cock swelled and saluted her.

“I admire a man who gets a hard-on looking at the feet and legs that are going to annihilate his balls,” Julie said to me. “It shows me he knows his place.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” I mumbled.

“So you think your balls are tough, do you?” she asked.

“Ummm… I did until I saw what the other models did to those poor contestants. I’m not so sure any more.”

Julie just laughed. “Tell you what, sport. IF you survive my first kick, I’ll let you kiss the shoe that kicked you before I give you the second one. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Ahhh… y-yes,” I stuttered.

“How about THAT?” the emcee cheered. Our contestant has even more incentive to take a second kick.”

The audience cheered.

“All right, Julie, it’s time to play ‘Kicking for a Million’. Line yourself up and let it rip.”

I stood on the designated spot and watched as Julie gauged her step. I felt the ominous nudge of the toe of her pump in my balls. Oh my, it was really going to happen.

Terrified, I watched Julie move to her mark. I saw her step and then her foot flying at an impossible speed directly toward my balls.

SPLATTT!!

For a split second, I didn’t feel a thing. Then everything went black for a moment. My gut felt like it had been hit with a battering ram. But somehow, by some miracle, I knew my balls were still intact. I had no idea how I would face a second kick. But I was the first to earn that chance against the magnificent Julie.

I realized the crowd was going crazy. They were actually cheering me. I was down on one knee trying to catch my breath. Julie had a look of total astonishment on her face while the emcee laughed.

“So you think it’s funny, do you?” Julie glared at her. “This guy has spoiled my perfect record. He’s REALLY going to get it this time.”

“Yes, but first he gets the honor of kissing your foot,” the emcee reminded her.

“I remember,” Julie sniffed. “He’s earned it,” she said grudgingly. “It will give him a chance to see up close the foot that WILL unman him forever.”

I was not in full possession of my senses just yet, but I heard Julie’s comments. I knew that the odds of my balls surviving her second kick were slim and none.

“Get over here and claim your reward,” Julie ordered me. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and her kicking foot pointing at me.

I gingerly crawled over to her and planted a tentative kiss on her cruel shoe. The heady smell of the leather was intoxicating to me. And I couldn’t help but think about how many pairs of balls that shoe had destroyed while residing on Julie’s foot. I sighed deeply and glued my lips to her shoe. Despite the lingering agony in my gut, my hard-on returned.

“Wow! We’ve got a very special contestant here tonight, folks,” said the emcee with genuine excitement. “Not only did he break Julie’s string of single-kick ball destructions, he also appears to be in love with her kicking foot and shoe.”

Julie looked down at me for a few moments while I devoutly worshipped her shoe. Apparently humiliating myself in this manner made up, at least in part, for stopping her streak.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said calmly. “Now it’s time for the second kick. I’ll give you the option of quitting now, if you want.”

I reluctantly removed my lips from her high-heeled shoe and struggled to my feet. “Thanks, but no,” I said quietly. “I have to at least try to take it.”

Julie shrugged and said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I said.

“You heard the man, everyone,” gushed the emcee. “He’s going to let her kick him AGAIN!”

The audience roared its approval.

“All right, everyone take their marks and let’s see what happens,” the emcee directed.

I resumed my position on my spot and Julie realigned herself. Just the gentle nudge of the toe of her shoe in my aching balls hurt. As she stepped back, I wondered why I had said yes to the second kick.

I saw her step forward and I saw her foot flying toward my groin, even faster than the first time, if that was possible. Her aim was deadly accurate. Her foot scored a direct hit on my defenseless balls.

SPLATTTTT!!!!

If the first kick had felt like a battering ram in the gut, this one felt like a freight train. I collapsed to the stage floor, unable to breathe. Why I didn’t pass out, I don’t know. What I did know, though, was that she had not destroyed my balls! The pain was completely off any chart, but I was still intact.

Julie was strutting around the stage, convinced she had finished the job.

The medical people came out to examine me, and after a few moments, one of them announced, “This man has done the unthinkable. His balls have survived two kicks, from Julie of all people.”

Julie stopped dead in her tracks, a look of total disbelief on her face.

“No way!” she argued. “There’s no way a pair of balls could survive that kind of impact with exploding!”

“I’m sorry, Julie, but it’s true,” the medical man said. “His balls are very swollen, but they are completely intact.”

“Folks,” the emcee cut in. “You are witnessing history tonight. This is the first time a contestant is eligible for the big prize. To win the $50,000 all he has to do is let Julie kick him one more time. Even if she ruins his balls he’ll still win that amount. But… if she kicks him again and DOESN’T bust him, he’ll be a millionaire!”

The crowd roared in excitement. Everyone wanted to see me win the big money.

“One of the rules we never have to mention is that a contestant has five minutes to recover between kicks,” the emcee informed everyone. “So, our friend here has another minute and a half to get himself together and present himself for the last kick. Remember, he doesn’t have to take it if he doesn’t want to. He just won’t win any money.”

The clock was counting down. At thirty seconds, I could barely stand, but I had made it this far and I wanted to make Paula proud of me. I didn’t care if Julie made me a eunuch. I was going to let her kick me the third time. If nothing else, I would win the $50,000.

Staggering like an old drunk, I made it to my mark just as the time expired. The audience went crazy, yelling and applauding, urging me to win it all.

Julie just stood there in disbelief; she couldn’t believe a pair of balls could possibly take one of her kicks, let alone two, without disintegrating. And even more amazing to her was that a man lucky enough to have survived to this point was willing to take yet another kick, even if it was a chance to win a million dollars.

“Well, Julie, this is it,” the emcee said. “You have one more kick to obliterate this man’s balls. “You think you can do it?”

“Absolutely,” she said with grim determination. “His balls are by far the toughest I’ve ever faced, and I have to admire him. But, I have a job to do and I WILL do it.”

I wasn’t frightened anymore. I knew the pain could not be any worse than I’d already experienced. And I was guaranteed a prize no matter what.

“Give me your best shot,” I gasped. “I’m prepared for whatever happens.”

“Fair enough,” said Julie.

With that, she went through her gauging routine one more time. I welcomed the nuzzle of her shoe on my balls. I decided that no matter what the outcome, I wanted to kiss her shoe one more time.

Julie went to her mark. The look in her eyes was one of pure determination. There was no way I could ever be truly ready for what she was about to do, but I set myself as best I could.

There was the step… the high-heeled pump rocketing through the air… a loud sickening SPLAT… and then nothing.

* * * * *

When I woke up I didn’t have a clue where I was. Everything was foggy. Then I heard Paula’s voice.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“Mmmmm… wh-where am I,” I mumbled.

“In the hospital,” Paula answered.

I couldn’t feel anything. My whole body was numb.

“Wh-what happened?”

“You had emergency surgery. The doctor had to remove what was left of your balls.”

I smiled weakly. A wry smile. “So I didn’t win the million,” I realized.

“No, but you did win the $50,000,” Paula said. I could hear the intense pride in her voice.

“I really thought I was going to win the million,” I said. “After I took those first two kicks, I didn’t think Julie could ruin me.”

“The doctor said your balls were so close to rupturing after the second kick that something as gentle as a playful tap could have done the job. The third kick was just a formality, really.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

“Don’t you dare be disappointed with yourself. You won $50,000 and you broke Julie’s single kick streak. You really earned her respect, you know. Even though she was pissed off at losing her streak, she admitted that you were an outstanding competitor and she actually got more satisfaction in busting you than all her other conquests combined.”

“Mmmmm… that’s nice, but…” I was still groggy from the anesthetic.

“Oh, and by the way,” Paula concluded. “I spoke with her after the show. Apparently, she enjoyed your shoe worship routine as much as you did. After you heal, she wants you to visit her at the studio in her dressing room so you can pay your respects to the shoe that took your balls.”

At that point, I completely relaxed. I didn’t care that I had lost my balls. All that mattered was that I would be kissing the shoe that took them away.