Move over wall street, semen is the new finance degree. Just like any other service, the semen industry faces ebbs and flows, and right now America is seeing the greatest influx in semen demand since 1971.
I’m staring at the surface of a mahogany coffee table that’s spangled with dried semen. A half ounce up of my own jizz rests on a pile of Playboy magazines. You may see the glass half full, or half empty. I see a mortgage payment.
Trish comes in to check on me. I’ve had her finger up my ass a few times to milk my prostate. I’ve gotten less from the VIP rooms at the Catwalk. It’s all legal, and it’s all big business.
“Are you all set Mr. Shwartz?”
She takes my specimen to the freezer as I wait in the main lobby.
Several minutes later, Trish hands me a check for $1,000.
“See you next week!”
I drive off in my E350.
I vaguely remember my high school guidance counselor telling me to ‘reap what you sow’. At the time, I thought I could build a promising career in finance, since my father owned a successful advising firm. I figured I would get a degree from any local university and then take over the family business one day. At least, that was the plan. But plans change.
I attended UMH in New Hamshire. A small liberal arts college whose most notable alum was that guy who made a million dollars off the ‘Crazy Bands’ fad in 2013. Remember those things?
I expected a similar financial fate. It was unfortunate to learn that the family business was going under the year I graduated. My father was embezzling money from clients for years. Like I said, plans change.
It was tough to swallow reality. I had a loose grasp on the future, but what I didn’t realize is that my ‘grasp’ would very well save me. When I was a frat head in college, we used to have contests. Weird brotherly, homophobic, but borderline homosexual contests. One of which was our weekly ‘jerk fest’, a competition that awarded the highest producer of semen a pool of money. $5 to enter, 100 guys in the frat, that’s $500 a week. I didn’t want to work at some scrub job like all my peers were doing, so the first time I hit the 50 ml mark on a beaker we stole from the bio lab, I was hooked on the money.
My career was decided.
I started practicing my form, eating foods that were said to produce high levels of semen, I started exercising to keep my testosterone levels high. My semen production sky rocketed. By the end of Sophomore year I was filling a 100 ml beaker every day. Some called me superhuman.
When I finally graduated, I had saved enough money to pay off my student loans. But I was still hopeless. I couldn’t find a job, and I couldn’t afford to get my own place. I felt like a scrub.
Then, a year after graduation, I saw an ad in the paper. “Looking for semen donors, tall, white, healthy men”
I was tall (6″2), I was healthy, and I was a semen machine. The ad said they were paying $10 a milliliter. I was game.
So I went up to the Semen donation center in New Hampshire and that was the first time I met Trish. She took me for a novice, a noob. When she saw my first sample she was in awe. I busted out 50 milliliters like it was my job. Boom $500 bucks.
I found out later there are over ten semen donation centers in the tri-state area. I hit about 4 a day. That’s 2k dollars I make, every single day. That’s a 6 figure salary. And it’s all because I’m white, tall, and have the thrust of an open fire hydrant.