Don't try to escape

There's no need to make rash decisions. How could you even escape, encumbered by a million-ton genital tumor. You trust that Dr. Coitus is a sensible man and that he won't resort to **** measures unless absolutely necessary.

As the evening dies down and turns to night, you are given an armchair to rest in. In such a comfy seat, the bundles of tension from today's ordeals slowly unspool, lulling you into a deep sleep.

During the night, your loinbound mountain of sex makes a startling revelation about itself: it was not even erect. And, as almost every male is surely keenly aware, REM-sleep is nearly without exception accompanied by an erection. The sparse amount of guards on watch are given a rude wake-up call as a minor earthquake rustles them awake from the still of a summery midnight. The sound of your erection growing.

As a precaution, almost every house in the entire tri-state area has been, or at least is undergoing evacuation. Thus, your glans steamrolling blocks upon blocks of houses at least doesn't cause further casualties. Picking up speed, it trailblazes onwards like the bastard lovechild of a bullet train and a wall-of-****. The guards are helpless in stopping the mayhem, as are any of the sparse emergency personnel that they manage to contact.

Even worse is the fact that your erection extends to girth too: your hyper cock ring, built to withstand twenty metric tons of **** per square centimeter, soon begins to buckle from the pressure. As a last resort to prevent a cataclysm, the guards engage the final available failsafe: a quadruple hydraulic press which physically squeezes down on your seminal tract to prevent cumming. These however, pose no resistance, and they are in fact pushed backwards until each of the compressed air tanks explodes in a series, like buttons on the blouse of a buxom woman.

Sophie: "Ah... Ahmmmm..."

The worst-case scenario is occuring: you are having a wet dream. Leaning forwards and hugging your own bulge like a massive fleshy teddy bear, you coo and caress it gently in your sleep. A report from a military osprey following the progress of your tip comes up: you are leaking pre.

The guards have a singular chance to prevent the apocalypse. They have to kill you before you ejaculate. Both of them are military men - however, neither served overseas, and both are kindly, gentle people by natue. Nor did either ever considered that some day, some day the fate of the world would be in their faltering arms.

While trying to fruitlessly pin the responsibility of offing you on one another, you spare them the anguish of indecision and cum. This happens with such incredible **** that you are propelled backwards, penis and all, through the city. This gives you a rather rude awakening, but for some unfathomable reason you've failed to die despite flying through dozens of buildings back-first.

Meanwhile on the other end of this ridiculousness, your flailing flagellum shoots enough cum to fill out the Great Lakes in a matter of seconds.

Then, in the most unfortunate of events, the chaotic movement of your firehose-like erection smashes you against the ground. Due to its gargantuan girth, you are pressed miles down into the earth, pulling your cock down with you. Your previously partially-flaccid penis then goes fully rigid, standing up from the ground like a monolithic fountain, spilling immeasurable amounts of seed into space.

So much **** is expelled, in fact, that it begins to effect the Earth's trajectory around the Sun. Even more unfortunately, as it's the nighttime, your excess propellant causes the entire planet to shift towards the Sun.

Soon the people of Earth make note of what's going on. Despite their valiant attempts at nuking you in hopes of destroying your penis or at least redirecting it, you remain completely invulnerable to feeble human weaponry, and embedded far too deep in the Earth's crust to be dislodged.

Eventually, the planet strays too close to the Sun and fries out all life. Even you yourself die upon the entire planet falling directly into the Sun.

ENDING 60 -An Unfortunate Series of Events-