Imagine getting fisted by mag Hank. Imagine the electricity stimulating your prostate while Hank drives his massive fist into the deepest recesses of your gaping anus--the feeling of his thick forearm, followed by his even thicker bicep as it slithers across every ridge and every slick crevasse. You're impressed that you could even bear such a thing, and the thought of it only makes you harder and harder. You don't want to, but you have no choice. You submit to the girth of his slimey appendage, cumming to the point of excruciation. Even as you writhe in painful ecstacy, even as you beg for death, you know deep down inside that you will only be revived to relive, over and over, the relentless thrusting of Hank's throbbing, mucous-encapsulated fist. Eternally, you are locked in a state of confused bliss.