Fucking Day: Sperm Racing - Australia vs. Germany (Patreon)

Fuck right off with that. I’ve put in my Sperm Racing time. While I’m not broken enough to watch a third cum-off, I found a cameraman’s journal. Let’s peek inside.

Finally, an offer.

A Sperm Racing “Video Wildcard” makes half my normal rate, is “AI-curious,” and insured by imagination. They’ll shoot something called the Sperm Racing World Cup,” uncredited.

I typed “no,” hit backspace, and thanked them for the opportunity. Kickoff’s Saturday. I guess wildcards work weekends.

I dug up an old event for research. Surprisingly tough. They sound proud of Sperm Racing, and hype up each event. The usual podcasts gawk days after the press release goes out. But Sperm Racing: Texas footage is harder to get than a confession.

Go figure. Maybe startups hate money and attention.

Still, I’ve got the LA show. That’s Mecca for media weirdness and tech weirdness, so it should be an easy win.

Sperm Racing LA’s fun, for a mortal sin. Looks like students hated it, reporters skipped it, the internet forgot, and Ty Dolla $ign died. But no literal crimes, and that’s great for a fancy college party. We’re on the way up.

Funky concept: a kid from UCLA donated sperm, to face sperm from USC. I guess USC’s sperm is heel? Either way, the fastest donor became Sperm King and saved the white race or something. The details are fuzzy, I mostly remember Amazon Basics Awkwafina spamming gay jokes.

Must be hard to talk about sperm this much. Keeping it fresh would get weird.

Arrived early to check out the gear. Clients like to see that, and shooting the rest of the World Cup (geez) could get me through The Bubble popping.

It’s…thin. The kind of setup kids crush with a GoPro and some moxie. Not sure where all the VC money went. I mean, obviously snow, but it’s still frustrating.

More interesting: I found a dude in a suit, crying into his hands. Those hide in storage sometimes, so I keep a few tissues handy. He said his name’s Ricky.

I told Ricky it’s not all bad. We all get a bum gig eventually. He went back to crying.

I think he’s a comedian. We’ll see.

Honestly, I’m looking forward to the crowd. Watching a rocket launch in a group is special, whether it flies or explodes.

There’s no crowd.

Or anything. Just three tables, some fake lab gear, and a Best Buy green screen. I can’t spice that up.

There’s better gear in my apartment. I’d have brought it if they’d asked. The feed looks rough. If the pitch looks like this, the birthrate’s sinking below pandas.

So much for my reel.

The commentary desk’s got some life! They’re breathing. As for energy, it’s naptime. If LA’s sperm race lived on coke and hope, this is greed and Xanax.

It does answer my question: during LA, I couldn’t tell if the racial anxiety was more genuine or convenient. Now, I’m certain this is punch-in, punch-out birthrate panic. Sperm Race staff might go home to black partners, or at least chatbots with an accent.

This kid really digs sperm.

Healthier outlets for that exist, but this pays. Eric Zhu started this before freshman year, making him a pillar of Sperm Racing. Forever. Can CPS arrest systems?

He’s got one of those almost-blazers you see in startups and junior proms. And…confidence isn’t the word. Eric just hasn’t learned this is weird. He won’t learn a lot of things, I guess.

The kid/boss calls Sperm Racing “The World’s Smallest Sport” before introducing his codefendants. Two sweaty, nervous adults I judge on sight. There’s no good age to commentate Sperm Racing, but these two are old enough to prosecute it.

Like me. Embarrassment's kicking in.

Shame’s kicking in.

They want a very, very serious tone. Not sure why: “laugh with us,” was their first run’s best idea. Even if they gave up on it ten minutes in. Anyone that can read “Sperm Races” can see through the Sperm Races.

Earnestness helps events without sperm in the title. Or naked events. A clothed, straight-laced sperm event hurts. I’ve got gummies, but I can’t imagine watching this stream for free.

The rig’s heavy. Or my soul. It must be obvious: the kid asked why I don’t just use my phone. He doesn’t know that image is half the job. Which explains why all three commentators look lost at sea.

The left jizz expert’s a fertility doctor. Doc’s mic doesn’t work , so the one woman here gets cut off at random. Rough optics, but at least we’re live so we’ll never fix it.

The right jizz expert isn’t. Eric calls him a veteran of “sports” and leaves it there. Sports is a bit more human than the others: he looks panicked, barely talks, and winces during board-approved sperm jokes. My man.

Time to make lemonade.

If Sports runs for it, I’ll try a tracking shot out the building. If Eric’s parents call, I’ll zoom in on the other two’s reaction. If Doc’s mic starts working, I’ll edge her out of frame to keep us on brand.

Let’s Sperm Race. I’m not ready, but I’m prepared.

Ricky’s back–looks like he’s the announcer. He’s either a comedian or overconfident.

Either way, it’ll be nice hearing some sperm jokes from someone with a working mic, descended testicles, and hope.

Ow.

Dude’s stage voice has a certain…quality. Forget that bit about balls. But it’ll be nice hearing sperm jokes from someone who’s finished an unassigned book.

Forget that book too. Ricky’s jokes suck shit. He’s definitely a comedian–untrained failure has limits. These are bad habits. Ricky’s drilled poor guidance into reflexes.

Our best chance is fixing Doc’s mic. While she’s some kind of birthrate wacko, we need a voice that isn’t quipping or ashamed to breathe.

Haven’t shot any Sperm Racing yet.

Spermless. The sperm is overdue. Is that sentence weird? That seems weird. I haven’t shot an adult film before, but I’m not against it. My power bill grew a zero after we liberated Tehran’s oil wells.

Still yappin’.

Finally: we’re meeting the contestants. Athletes? Racers? Solo pornstars? “Sperm racers” feels mean. If I called someone a sperm racer to their face, they’d break mine.

Oh, it’s prerecorded. I’m not meeting anyone. Still, a break’s a break. I’ll take 10 mg of sanity and watch along. Maybe there’s some sperm racing.

Hmm.

The first guy’s odd: Ricky calls him “The biohacker from Berlin,” which sounds like slander. You can be a German or biohacker without being a eugenics guy. A German biohacker has friends in Argentina.

Julius says he reps science-based sperm racing, i.e. roiding out. He’s the first half of the “Enhanced vs. Natural” race theme. Half of PEDs turn your balls into ornaments, so I’m not sure about that angle. The Dwayne Johnson diet is worse for your junk than your temper.

Then again, one of our sponsors is called “PepTime,” so maybe old-school Tren’s off the menu. PepTime sells “products intended for research use only.” Anti-aging peptides are kind of dope: some of them do nothing instead of poisoning you.

This pre-rolls pretty long–I guess that’s the plan. I’d feel embarrassed by Sperm Racing HQ too. This set looks like a City 17 bachelor pad. But we’ve gotta show the live crowd something. Like Sperm Racing.

Julius opens with two hammers. One: “Risk is still overpriced.” Two: “I ice my balls in the sauna.” There’s more talking after that, but it’s all there. Spermshock doesn’t fear death, tradition, or humiliation.

Cool stance on the first two, but give humiliation some credit. “I ice my balls in the sauna” will follow Julius in search engines and AI vomit forever. Dates and interviews will ask if it works, if it hurts, and how many cubes it takes to finish.

Wait–maybe this is a Sperm Luge? Or Bobsled? Then the Master Sperm have the advantage. Unless the other guy’s Norwegian or Jamaican.

Player two’s Australian, so the race is a lock for Julius’s iced sperm. Still, this guy’s gonna try. Good attitude.

Hold up. These guys are in the building? Two adults flew from Germany and Australia to jack off on America’s corpse? Tonight can’t be all preroll, or I’d be paid even less. Imagine taking a red-eye flight from the opposite side of Earth to shoot live Sperm Racing.

I wish we’d shot in Australia. Sunlight would make all the cum talk bearable. Now I’m ashamed and cold.

“I think I might be the happiest person on Earth,” says the second sperm racer.

Quality line: combative, bold, and testicle-free. Though I saw a woman with a donut today. She’s been in zero sperm races, which puts her ahead by default. Better luck next time.

Jayden hasn’t touched a donut in a while.

Hmm.

I’m not trying to outlive clean water, but I keep it tight. You can eat a donut every week. Or day, if you like running shoes. I like Asics and red velvet. Why go crazier than that?

Jayden’s the all-natural Sperm Racer, repping clean living, positivity, and not nuking your balls with grey market drugs. There’s a lot of footage of him working out, while he talks about his lifting split. So I guess he’s strength training his sperm? Which compound lifts make your cum stronger? Have I been skipping jizz day?

While Spermshock’s the YouTube fitness type, Whole Sperm’s more of a fitness magazine regular. Basic advice at length, sprinkled with orthorexia, followed by ads. Our other sponsor’s Brex, which makes…I have no idea. I’m gonna look that up.

AI finance! Both halves of the bubble. Everyone there should burn.

The gummy’s kicking in. We’re gonna be fine. And no one’s gotta burn, even if they really deserve it. I hope I get to shoot some Sperm Racing today, even if it’s gross.

Oh shit, they’re both here!

“Here” being a dingy office with a pro-AM greenscreen. The lab on the screen looks dope—I could get some quality footage if it existed. Here in reality, Ricky’s interviews look like Twitch hostage tapes.

We’re stuck on a buildup loop. It’s impossible to care about any of this. The hype to content ratio’s worse than a theme park ride. I’ll save my energy for the Sperm Race. If there’s a Sperm Race.

More talking. I’m not really building shots anymore. Just pointing at Ricky and waiting for my check.

Live, Julius comes off as a future headline. Between cum jokes, Ricky gave him a softball: What’s his search history like? “Will I find a bunch of scary stuff?”

Given Sperm Racing’s everything, it’s a smart question. And people get nervous around German population enthusiasts. This question clears the air, and lets fans enjoy guilt-free speed. Or at least duck the human cost NFL-style.

But it’s Julius.

The correct answer’s “no.” Or even a jokey “yes.” Instead, Julius muses on the birthrate of “the western countries.” I almost cut the feed. But no one else looked nervous, so I guess we’re rocking with it. Unscripted entertainment, right? For a guy trying to live forever, Julius really dies onstage.

But I’m easy-going. Why dwell on a Berlin biohacking enthusiast concerned about western birthrates publicly championing superior German cum? Dude’s just a character. We’re in the age of resurging characters.

Jayden’s going a bit smoother. He remembers the camera, isn’t an overt character, and sounds embarrassed to breathe Ricky’s air. Isn’t that all of us?

Seen that look before. He didn’t pack protein slurry for the road.

I get the feeling Jayden doesn’t quite get the concept. That he signed this contract between six other forms he read even less. Before rolling, his eyes reminded me of a dog staring at a fresh carpet accident. He kept that look while rolling. Sorry, bud.

Jayden credits sleep, chicken, and broccoli for his biceps and seed. So I guess this is old school roids vs. fancy new peptides. I’m on the side with fewer needles. Can’t stand needles.

Every word from Ricky drives my fee up. He’s spammed the full script of Kangaroo Jack, followed by cum. WallabeesCumSpidersCumPublichumiliationCumHelpmeCumNotlikehelpmeejeculateImeansavemysoulCumVegemiteCum. I think I hate comedy now.

Ricky’s just podcasting by himself, so I took a phone break. This gig’s weirder than I thought.

For one, I was wrong about those flights. While he reps Team Australia, Jayden has a “normal San Francisco Apartment” bigger than a sitcom house. And Julius runs the “California Peptide Club.” Germany vs. Australia is very American, which makes me want to move.

More Ricky. He’s got a whole jizz soliloque ready. It’s melodramatic instead of hack, so I guess the client wrote it.

The details are hard to hold on to, because it’s in Ricky’s voice. The gist is that you should take care of your health so that you shoot massive loads. You owe the future fat ropes of life-giving, pore-blocking udon. If you can’t fill a wine glass, you’re letting America down.

The monologue peaks with “Stop wasting your life like it’s guaranteed.” The announcer of Sperm Racing’s message to the viewers of Sperm Racing. I wish this was a snuff film. It’d sit with me less. I could look more people in the eye. Instead, I’ve lived my life like it’s guaranteed.

Probably Sperm Racing soon. Until then, I’m recording some fake scientists. It’s…great. I feel great.

Yeah.

We will never Sperm Race.

It’s time! After I shoot a little more talking. English is starting to sound like barks and squawks, but I’m good. I can hold on. I just need a few more milligrams.

Whole Sperm and Spermshock face off.

They’ve almost learned to control their hands. Almost. But during the Sperm Racing Oath, they’re back to cradling themselves. How do I make that look Olympian? The green screen’s already stolen my pride. The angle’s slanted, because that’s all the strength I’ve got left.

Also, there’s a Sperm Racing Oath.

I wrote it down. Just to make my therapist’s life a little easier later:

Ricky: For fairness and tradition, both Julius and Jayden will be required to say an oath, to make sure the sample they provide is theirs.

Jayden: I solemnly swear that my children are mine and not anyone else’s.

Julius: I hereby solemnly swear that I have not tampered with my kids.

Weird, but also wrong. Tampering with his sperm is Julius’s entire thing. It is tampering vs. not-tampering. And there’s no such thing as a false sperm champion. Just a heel.

I’ll get through this.

Setting Ricky up for the commentary cam. I guess someone else is shooting the actual race? They must have some kind of electron microscope feed, or at least a nice animation studio. Maybe a goofy live-action recreation, with human-sized runners? Anything less would add confusion to humiliation.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s the same. They’ve added nothing since LA but Rickey’s face. Why is this happening? Why are we like this? I’m fine living through WW3 and arctic water parks, but why do I have to record Ricky proving we deserve it?

It’s the same shit. I wish I’d been slower.

The first round of The Same Shit’s called “The Sprint.”

It’s the LA race again.

Ricky shouts over it, and Nina would’ve done better. Nina. Jayden won, proving…sperm. He’s up six points.

The second round of The Same Shit’s called “God, My Father Wanted More Than This.”

During God, My Father Wanted More Than This, we count the sperm per sample. Not racing, by the dictionary or popular or abstract definition. But our other sponsors are Surface, Kled, and Rockridge. Invest while they exist.

The graphic looks like balls, if you drink.

I’m rethinking mine. They do funny things to your brain.

There’s no craft to the lies. After Jayden won the Normal Sperm Race, Juliius came back during God, Father Wanted More Than This. We have to shoot a third round, or give back all that VC money. Which is gone. Sperm Racing hired me instead of Ty Dolla $ign.

Ricky said “Dan-kee-shun,” because it’s the German word he knows. I think he mouthed “KMFDM-Cum-Currywurst-Cum-AfD-cum-WeirdStaring-cum” before recalling Julius’s connections. Smart guy, when it counts. None of this counts.

The tiebreaker’s called the Return to Mother. Multi-cell life’s hard. So the racers, announcer, and video wildcard imagine easier times. But the womb’s a dead memory, like the nation. Sperm Racing’s our present reality.

After that, there’s “The Full Field.”

It’s a sperm relay race. The earlier each sperm finishes, the more points it earns. With the Calvinball twist of this round being worth double points. So the first two gifs meant even less. We stole viewer time for more Brex ads.

First, a countdown. It looked like random, amateur-ish cuts for drama, but I threw the camera. Full force, with everything. And picked it up. And hurled it again. Sperm Racing’s not as cheap as I thought—the damn thing was rage-quit proof. Made of diamonds or despair.

They thank me for just snapping once, and ask me to keep the jump cuts coming. Dutch angle, if possible. I obey. There’s nothing left.

The Full Field takes three minutes. Four more than I can cope with. I keep the reaction cam running, so that the racers’ faces aren’t forgotten. So that they can’t hide. Though Julius knows a bit about ducking justice after a loss.

Jayden wins.

PepTime’s checks must bounce, because the only lesson a human can take from this is “peptides ruin your cum.” That’s not even true, but it’s what Sperm Racing taught me. What it taught the world.

Everyone on the bus home looked past me. I don’t know how, but they knew. Something salty in the air. One of the panhandlers left me some change. Maybe I’ll buy a drink.

I watched the mirror for a while. There’s a new face in there. An old one. Maybe he’d make a good Sperm Racer.

New message from the client. Payment’s coming on “team player time.” Until then, there are five Sperm Racing World Cup events on the books.

We’re getting closer to a real World Cup–only eight of the next ten racers are American. Until then, Sperm Racing is an American STI.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: RedWyneTyme, who was told to fill the wine glass and would like a quick rule clarification.

You can read this article and every other one on the much better in every way 1900HOTDOG.COM