My Life with the NYC Sperm Bank System

"Hey Cedrick, the sperm bank is looking for guys, they'll pay you fifty bucks minimum to donate sperm if you qualify. Me and the boys are gonna hop the subway down, you wanna go with us?"

He could get paid for jizz? Like most 19-year old guys, our protagonist had often found himself in the situation of having to pay money to get rid of the stuff. Cedrick didn't need to think about this. "Sure. I'll be with you as soon as my burrito is done."

Like a bunch of college freshmen males, they all had numerous wisecracks about this moneymaking enterprise. At fifty bucks a shot, they couldn't help but refer to the product for sale as "white gold".

They all fantasized about how this would be done--perhaps there were specially trained massage parlor girls from Bangkok, slutty nurses, or even a bevvy of sperm bank hookers. They knew this wasn't true, but it was still entertaining. One of the students on the expedition proffered the idea that more likely they had rows of identical small rooms with specifically engineered "milking machines" like they had for cows on dairy farms. This notion went over with the group like a lead balloon, and after that the conversation died and it was a long, quiet subway ride to the sperm bank.

Cedrick had the opportunity to look over his buddies. There was Eric, the long haired philosophy major. To his left was Zack, the white capped frat jock (a marketing major) whose idea this whole escapade was. To his left, there was Charles, who was actually half Samoan, and majoring in electrical engineering. On Cedrick's right was Tony who was a fellow film major and something of a goddamn hippie. To his right, and currently asleep on the train and possibly stoned, was John. John was in his seventh year of college, and (like most really hardcore fuck-ups) a sophomore in NYU's English department.

When the group got off the elevator they were ejected into a very normal looking medical waiting room.

Along with them in the room were two old men reading back issues of "Field & Stream" and a shrewish middle-aged woman who glared at them disapprovingly. Zack just stared at the two old geezers in silent horror. Cedrick imagined Zack visualizing these old men vigorously masturbating, grunting with sweaty ecstasy over the pictures of Florida fishermen proudly holding up wide-mouthed fish. The mental image, combined with a belch which brought recollections of his morning burrito, made Cedrick squirm in his seat.

The frat brothers picked through the magazines, feeling nervous. Cedrick noted with some worry how well thumbed through the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue was in this particular office. He finally settled on a copy of Reader's Digest. He skimmed through their humor columns and noted that they seemed astoundingly unfunny.

They waited for a short time before a moderately attractive blonde woman wearing pink medical clothing approached them with a clipboard. She gave the motley assortment of NYU dormmates a quick eyeball, and asked them "Are you here to donate?"

"Yeah." They muttered in sheepish unison, all looking at the floor, or feigning intense interest in the lame magazines.

"Right."

She wote something on the form clipped to her clipboard. "Well, would one of you follow me?"

The pink clad medical professional turned around, and the dorm lads glanced around at each other expectantly.

Cedrick got up and followed her when it was apparent none of the others were about to. He was a film student, and supplemented his pitiful income from the school library by selling his writing to 'zines, magazines, and web pages. As such, Cedrick was utterly nonplussed by the notion that someone would be willing to pay him to masturbate. His dormmates were impressed by his nonchalance. The combat boot wearing gothboy film student strode boldly into the back area of the sperm bank.

As soon as the doors closed behind him and he was out of sight of his friends, Cedrick was seized by a fit of performance anxiety. Yeah right, what if he couldn't pull it off? He mentally grinned.

The woman introduced herself as Susan, and guided him into a small white room with a tiny cardtable in it, flourescent lights, and an uncomfortable looking molded plastic chair. He thought that the room seemed Dilbertesque.

Cedrick sat down and discovered that the chair was both cold to the touch and not well shaped to fit a human posterior. He took a clipboard from Susan and began writing down his relevant information. It was all rather straightforward, his name, address, occupation (he pondered for a while and wrote "artist"--it sounded better than "librarian"), ethnicity (in classic hipster denial of his untrendy whiteness, he wrote "other"), religion (Cedrick thought about it and put "Buddhist"), eye color, hair color, height, weight, etc.

Susan just stared at him as he filled out the form. Then, like one of those telemarketers who have memorized the standard sales script and just repeat it like a machine, she launched into her sperm bank about-to-be-a-first-time-donor speech:

"We will accept or deny your sample based on a number of criteria. We need diversity in our specimens, so how you fit into our demographics is important. We will also look into your medical history, and our standards are high. Before you leave today we will need a blood sample and a semen sample. We have minimum standards for sperm count, sperm motility, sperm morphology, and survival rate for cryogenic freezing. Not everyone's sperm survive well when frozen, but if you pass the tests we pay up to $80 a sample. Do you use drugs?"

"Nope," Cedrick lied.

Cedrick was given a routine phisical examination, after which Susan drew a blood sample. After that, she offered him a small glass container. "You know what to do, right?"

"Yeah, I've had a lot of practice."

"All right, if you have any trouble you just let me know. Some men have difficulty doing this, and I want you to know that if you need help producing a sample we can electrically stimulate your prostate gland. That usually does the trick."

Cedrick looked over at Susan. He imagined her imagining him dropping his trousers and spanking his monkey into the little vial he was presently holding in his moist hand. He was not sure how he'd describe the unique feeling he was experiencing. Awkward did not begin to cover it.

Cedrick wondered how she would react if he asked her out right at that moment.

"No, I think I've got this covered. Thanks, though."

So, with a little imagination, and a couple knuckle shuffles later, Cedrick had that vial filled to the brim with a mighty sample, which he presented to Susan. After that, he washed his hands and waited for his friends while sipping at some delightful herbal tea which the office employees offered him.

It seemed at that point, all the NYU lads could do was return to the campus and wait to see if their sperm was up to snuff. Oddly enough, despite their initial trepidation, Cedrick and his brothers swaggered out of the sperm bank like they were leaving a brothel. It felt like a male bonding experience, but on acid. They had proven their masculine potence. They were virile. After sowing their seeds into small but eager glassware containers, there was a very real chance that their genetic codes would be passed down to future generations. In that moment, they were gods.

So finally it was judgement day for the prospective sperm donors. It was just after a fine meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, string beans, apple sauce and imitation cheesecake for dessert. The boys filed out of the cafeteria and into the NYU post office. They all received thin envelopes from the sperm bank, and clustered together. They decided not to open them right there in the post office, but to go back to the privacy of the dorm where they could down the pints of Newcastle ale they'd purchased for just this occasion.

They took the beers out of their dorm fridge, and popped them open. After a toast to easy money, they opened up the envelopes.

"I didn't pass," said Eric, not elaborating.

"This says I have abnormal sperm morphology," said Zack.

"They said I should stop jerking off so much and come back for a retest in a year," said Charles.

"This says I have syphillis," said Tony.

"I didn't pass either," monotoned John.

Cedrick said nothing.

"Yo Cedrick, did you pass?" inquired Zack.

"Yeah, they said they'd be willing to pay me seventy dollars a sample."

"Gimme that!"

Zack grabbed the letter and read it. He compared it to his own.

"DUDE! Look at these numbers! You have super-sperm! According to this, you're like their golden load!"

"Fuck that man, Cedrick is a spunkatronic jizzlobber," said Charles, with a half-jealous smile.

John laughed. "Cedrick, you're the Sperminator!"

Tony was about to add something, but Cedrick jumped in.

"Fuck you guys! You're just jealous because your sperm didn't pass muster. Look, I'm going back over there to make some cash."

Eric grinned as their frat brother, soon to be nicknamed "the Wadfather", left. When Cedrick was gone he said:

"Right, now he's too cool to talk with us. Do you realize that Cedrick is a professional wanker?"

It was far, far from the last Cedrick would hear of it.

Now over the next few years Cedrick donated sperm on average four times a week. Cedrick was one of the bank's best producers, and with his nearly superhuman sperm count this meant he produced through his career nearly three hundred billion highly motile sperm. Now, not all of them survived being cryogenically frozen, but even so with Cedrick's sperm, they could have easily repopulated the planet several times over.

Since the United States and the Soviet Union never did get around to having that nuclear war, this was deemed to be unnecessary. On the other hand, since the New York City sperm bank is the biggest in the world, they do ship off particularly potent sperm specimens to other parts of the world. Cedrick was one donor whose seed was exported frequently.

Within six years, his donations have been used to sire exactly three hundred and twelve youngsters worldwide. This was a subject Cedrick chose not to reflect on overly much, but his college buddies would tease him about it mercifully.

One of their jokes is that since he donated all this sperm fairly young in life, in about twenty years he could end up dating one of his own daughters. Disgusted by this thought, Cedrick had since taken a vow only to date older women.

Still, one nightmare which haunts him is the image of himself as a middle-aged, overweight, balding professional--he is lonely and far from his family. Cedrick knows that under these circumstances, he would like to avail himself of the comforts of a prostitute's services. But could he? He could he know if he was snogging his own daughter? He couldn't be sure, and this doubt would ruin the fun of it.

click the logo to go back