My Purge, pt. 1
Date: 11/10/2017, Categories: Fantasy, Author: stratjunkie, Source: sexstories.com
No telling how many were up there, how well armed they are, anything like that. I start to slowly back up when a round kicks off against the grill of the van. Fuckers know what they're doing, trying to kill the van and make us run. I slam the brakes and tell my guys to hold tight, get their guns ready, and hunker down. I see two guys coming from the passenger side off the corner house, charging us with guns us, ready for us to run. The retards step out in front of the van and I hit the gas, slamming them both down. More rifle shots hitting the van, only now they're after the glass, trying to hit me direct. I freak a little, knowing that the glass, while re-enforced, won't stand up to a whole lot of concentrated damage. I push forward, crushing the two as best I can, dragging them along until we hit the curb where I hear a crunch far more meatlike then mechanical. “Hold tight!” I holler out as we slam into the corner of the home with the shooter on it. Once we're partially in we pour out of the front seats. Guns up and ready. The room we're in is empty, and we split to clear the rest. Find a woman and son curled up in a corner closet, grab them both and clear out. I walk out the front door with reg, my gun to the wifes head, his on the boy. “Don't shoot! You won't like what happens to your family if something happens to us right now!” I hear a whimper of anger and pain from the roof. “FINE!!, Don't hurt them!” He called out. Reg and I looked at each other. “Get your fucking ... ass down here!” I heard rustling and his head appeared from the edge. “Drop the guns down here first, I want to see empty hands or we shoot em” the scoped rifle and a handgun are dropped over the edge, and his hands show, empty and wide open. As he climbed down Reg, John and I looked at each other, nodded slightly, and turned back to watch his descent. John was turned to cover our backs when the man hit the ground and turned to face us. Reg slammed the rifle stock into him, knocking him off balance. He was cuffed and on the ground before his eyes cleared and refocused. I drew some zip ties and did his wife up, ugly cunt but I had a plan. They were screaming and pleading with us, but that was nothing new. The boy was crying and screaming, maybe 14 years old at this point. “Shut up. Shut Up. Shut Up! SHUT UP!!!!” The little bitch would not shut up, and I got tired of listening to the screaming while we dragged the parents away. I drew my sidearm, a Glock 22, and levelled it at his head. His eyes went wide and his mouth made the funniest looking face ever, almost an orgasm face. I pulled the trigger and painted the side of the house with his brains. All the fight went out of the parents, instantly. They slumped over and began bawling and freaking out. “You caused this, you directly caused your sons death. You are responsible for the death of your only child.” The father just deflated, melted into the ground in anger and pain, grief and terror. I grinned and dragged the mother into ...