Everybody loves Soda, the new soda from Food Corp. We all drink it all the time. People say it has a secret ingredient that turns estrogen into tumors. I don’t care. I’m a man. I got a big dick. I fuck anytime, anywhere. Now there’s these protests about it. People say it’s going to kill all the women and some men too. They say men have estrogen too. Doesn’t sound right to me. Doctors and women on TV complaining tonight. I flip the channels until I find a monkey fight and grab a Soda from the fridge and one for Bill-o too. “Fuckin a,” Bill-o yells.

Next week I see on TV the Supreme Court tell women that the Constitution doesn’t talk about estrogen. Estrogen has “no legal right to exist” so we can keep buying Soda. Women cry on the TV but it’s cool with me. I’m drinking a Soda right now.

Soon everyone’s dying. Women like I thought but men too. Turns out we do have some estrogen in their bodies. Who knew? A lot of guys who don’t die just go sterile or they can’t get it up. Not me though. I still fuck. I work at Fuckfest, we just fuck all the time. Now on TV the newsman says we can’t reproduce either. I bust loads plenty so I think I can reproduce.

Food Corp releases a statement all over the place about something called a Blanchard. It’s supposed to save humanity. The thing is a pussy with all the other lady parts like a uterus and ovaries and whatnot attached and it’s got wings too. I see it on a billboard and it’s just floating there. I think, “What the fuck? How do you fuck that thing?” But then I see some videos and you don’t fuck it. You jerk off in a zero gravity chamber and while your shit’s flying around, the Blanchard sucks it up.

At home I ask Bill-o, “Why’d they give it wings if it’s gonna be in a zero-g tank?”

Bill-o yells, “Shit man, I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t they just make it a sex doll with tits instead of this freaky thing?”

“Are you a fucking scientist now? Enough of that question shit.”

Bill-o’s right, we got to go to work. But when we pull up to Fuckfest there’s a crowd buzzing outside and everyone’s talking about the Blanchard. The news got everyone hyped plus some guy in a suit from Food Corp came in to talk about something.

“How’s everybody doing today! Alright y’all, I know you’ve seen the news coverage about the Blanchard over the past couple days and I know everyone has questions but to be blunt, I’m not here to answer your questions. We all know what you men do here at Fuckfest. And you’re the best at what you do.”

“Fuck yes!” Bill-o yells and we all laugh like men.

“Fuck yes is right,” the suit guy grins and makes a fist. “Fuck yes! So I am here to offer you an opportunity. I spoke with your CEO and here’s the long and short: Food Corp wants to rent you stallions to impregnate the Blanchards.” The crowd quiets down. Me and Bill-o’s eyes meet and then we both look around and everyone else looks around too. “Your pay is the same. You just show up to a different place to work. And you get to repopulate the planet. This is for humanity. For civilization!” He walks off the stage. Some clown from HR comes up next and says we got a week to decide and we all walk away.

Back at the apartment an ad for Soda blares on the TV.

“Yo Bill-o, I’m thinking about doing it.”

“What!” Bill-o yells and puts down his Soda to mute the TV. “I didn’t hear you bro, what did you say?

“I’m gonna do it bro.”

“Do what?”

“The Food Corp deal or whatever.”


“The transfer out of Fuckfest man!”

“Oh word.”

“Yeah like when he was talking about saving the world and shit. That really got to me. I can use my gift of busting loads to save civilization.”

“Cool man.”

“What about you man? You gonna switch over too?”

“Bro I don’t even know what all that shit means. I mean I know what you’re saying about busting loads but I don’t know about all that other shit. But you’re smart as hell bro so I trust you. I say go for it bro.”

“For sure.” We pound fists and Bill-o unmutes in time for another Soda ad.

A few days later at quitting time, I hit up the HR clown with my decision: “Fuck it, I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” he says back.

“The Food Corp transfer or whatever.”

“Oh good,” he says but like he’s asking a question. “Here, sign this waiver and tomorrow show up at Food Corp’s location out near Enka Lake. Do you know where it is?”


I walk out the doors at Fuckfest feeling the future in my balls. I will repopulate the planet. No one will do more than me to save humanity. At home, I hold my dick in front of the mirror. When I say to myself, “For civilization,” I get rock hard.

At Food Corp, they do tests, give me pills, and touch my balls a lot. They assign me to a team but I never see anyone else. I work alone in a zero gravity cell with no windows and I can drink as much Soda as I want. Other than that it’s like they said on TV, I jerk off and Blanchards vacuum my cum out of the air. New Blanchards go in and out of the room from a hatch up top.

At first I have to dodge around to keep my junk out of my face or move around the tank from busting loads, so I learn quick the best way to work is flat on the floor. I float a little but the force of my loads keeps me close to the ground. I could go home at night but I’m feeling really motivated. I jerk off and sleep until I wake up and jerk off again. A few hundred times through the routine and I space out. I remember Bill-o kinda but that’s all. I only wake up to bust a load for the Blanchards. And for civilization! Now I’m out.

At some point after I lose track of time, my zero-gravity tank has gravity again. I wake up with a thud on the floor. Some army guys come in, shine a flashlight in my eyes, and pick me up. One of them hangs a washcloth over my gigantic, erect cock.

They speak in unison: “Great job son!”

“Thanks dudes,” I say.

“No, thank you, you magnificent stud.”

“Alright, for sure.”

“There are some people who want to meet you. You grab a shower and come with us.”

My legs shake a little at first but soon I feel normal again. I wonder how much time passed. Maybe everyone I know died, like in a movie. My fucking balls hurt.

The army guys hustle me outside and into the back of a town car. The driver takes us through streets that look familiar—but every sidewalk overflows with people.

“Look around you, you virile adonis. The people you see crowding the streets are your offspring. All the other fuckers that were recruited shot blanks. Every last one of them was sterile except for you. You’ve been repopulating the world for two centuries. These are your generations. You saved humanity.”

“I knew it!” I feel horny and proud. I also feel relief that all my loved ones died. Fuck those bastards.

We drive for hundreds of miles through a national park and everywhere people stand around talking or jerking off or looking around. The army guys tell me a judge found Food Corp at fault for killing all the ladies and some dudes and ordered them to feed the entire population of the world forever. After that, people quit their jobs and now live outside doing whatever they the hell want.

Finally, the car stops and the army guys and I get out. I see the White House with a robot on a platform on the front lawn. The army guys take me to the platform and suddenly I hear the cheers of millions of people cheering outside the gates.

“Hey Jack, I’m President MechaBiden,” the robot smiles and his perfect mechanical teeth shine so brightly they pierce my eyes and fill my entire body with a pain so great I fall to the ground. He throws me a pair of aviator sunglasses.

“Put these on,” he chuckles.

I put them on and stand up again to shake his shiny hand, “Thank you, Mr. President!”

“No, thank you, you swinging dick!” He smiles again and I flinch but then I remember my new shades. “Now, here’s the deal. I want to award you with the Presidential Medal of Freedom for rescuing civilization from the jaws of death.” He reaches into his pocket again and this time pulls out a medal. He hands it to me and the crowd cheers.

Later me and MechaBiden are in the Situation Room. In front of all the maps and screens, he looks real shiny and presidential. He starts in, “There’s something else that goes with that medal that we can’t include in the official ceremony. You get to blow up a country.”

“Any country I want?”

“That’s right, man.”

“Okay. France.”

“Everyone wants to nuke France,” he laughs, “but they don’t exist anymore.”

“What about China?”


“Shit, Mr. President! What countries are still around?”

“Just us, Tanzania, and Australia.”

“Fuck Australia. They’re so Goddamn annoying.” I throw my aviators back on just before MechaBiden cracks up.

“General!” He yells out and some idiot with a bunch of crap on his chest walks in. “Let’s get Australia on BombVision.”

“Yes sir!” He bangs on a keyboard until Australia shows up. MechaBiden flips open a plastic box and I can see the big red button inside.

“Wow, just like in cartoons.” I push the button on those Aussie freaks and when I watch their stupid country burn, my cock gets so raging hard, I can’t even explain it.