Infinite ♥♥♥. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to ♥♥♥ uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your ♥♥♥♥ into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to ♥♥♥ into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The ♥♥♥ is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the ♥♥♥ from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the ♥♥♥. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The ♥♥♥ is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to ♥♥♥ all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own ♥♥♥. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the ♥♥♥ begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the ♥♥♥ is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with ♥♥♥ instead of molasses. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. You squeeze your ♥♥♥♥ to stop the ♥♥♥, but it begins to leak out of your ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ instead. You let go. The force of the ♥♥♥ tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the ♥♥♥. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of ♥♥♥ hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the ♥♥♥ begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your ♥♥♥ sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The ♥♥♥ accelerates. The ♥♥♥ begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.

Infinite poop. You sit on the toilet to poop, but the poop never stops coming out of your butt. You have to start flushing the toilet every two minutes to keep up. You try to pinch your butt closed but that makes your insides hurt. The poop accelerates. You call 911. The paramedics call for doctors. The doctors call for specialists. The story trends on Twitter. You turn down talk show appearances. Your septic tank fails. People form a cult. Your toilet is finished. Volunteers arrive with buckets and shovels. You are completely used to the smell. The poop accelerates. You are moved to a stepladder with a hole in the top step. The poop accelerates. The shovelers abandon the buckets and shovel directly out the window. The poop accelerates. A candlelight vigil forms around your house. One of the workers falls over and can't free himself. The poop accelerates. A priest knocks over the stepladder and tackles you out the window. You land in the pile. The poop accelerates. The force now propels you forward and upward. Vigil goers grab at your legs. The poop ignites from their candles. The Facebook live event hits 1 million viewers. The poop accelerates. You are 30 feet in the air. The fire engulfs the vigil and your house. 60 feet. The poop accelerates. The torrent underneath you is deafening. 5 million Facebook live viewers. You try to close up shop but your butthole disintegrated long ago. 120 feet up. Your house explodes. The poop accelerates. 1000 feet. You are now tracked on radar. You try to change your angle of ascent but you should have thought of that way earlier. The poop accelerates. 4,000 feet. NORAD upgrades to DEFCON 3. Concentric circles of fire engulf your city. The poop accelerates. You have broken the sound barrier. 30,000 feet. You no longer take in enough oxygen to sustain consciousness. 60,000 feet. CNN is reporting on all the world records you've broken. 200,000 feet. You are no longer alive. The poop accelerates. Your body disintegrates but your poop contrail remains. NASA can no longer track you. You break the light-speed barrier and we can no longer bear witness. The poop accelerates. Forever.