Darling, Are You Ready For Your Testicle Bath? - The Haven - Medium

Finally, contraception has been batted into the men’s court. Women, take a break. You’ve been carrying the contraceptive team these past six decades since the sexual revolution, with your birth control pill, your IUD and your sponge. Throw all that shit out. You don’t need it any more. Just give your man a testicle bath with your Dyson vacuum cleaner.

But are men really ready and willing to have their ladies shove their balls in a dyson bagless vacuum cleaner before coitus.

Of course they are. What man doesn’t like a good suck before sex?

I’ve always loved my Dyson vacuum cleaner, and the founder James Dyson’s sexy Britsh shtick: “I just think things should work prop’ly.”

That’s so sexy!

But now he’s amended his catchphrase: “I just think things should work prop’ly, except for my sperm, which should be heated by an ultrasonic device so that they lose their mobility. I don’t need any more heirs. But I want to shag loads of birds. This new vacuum cleaner will make that possible for me.”

The sperm are basically paralyzed.

“But I can assure you, they feel no pain,” explained the device’s inventor, a German named Rebecca Weiss at the University of Munich, who’s also quite luscious and delicious. I bet that horny old James Dyson would like to have a testicle bath with Frau Weiss.

The first bath must be done under the supervision of a doctor. But after that, the device attaches to your regular Dyson Cyclone V10 Animal vacuum cleaner and can be administered at home in your bedroom before coitus.

It’s all very promising and feminist, although I cannot help worrying about this poor paralyzed spermatozoa. But I did a little research. Did you know, these poor sperm get the shit kicked out of them by conventional contraception anyway?

For instance, this is how an IUD works. It makes the mucus on your cervix so thick that the sperm, which is merrily swimming its way toward fertilization, conception and an incarnation as a human being with a promising career, possibly in accounting but more likely in general finance, when what happens? The water he’s swimming in turns to quicksand, and he gets stuck.

“Help! Help! My brothers, help me!” he calls to his fellow spermies. But they’re stuck too. It’s all rather inhumane. Within a few hours they drown in the quicksand and die.

The sponge is even more horrific.

The sponge fits snugly as a barrier in your cervix that the sperm can’t get through. They get absorbed and trapped.

“Help! I’m trapped, brothers!” calls the poor spermy.

“Never mind, it will be over soon,” reply the brothers, who are also trapped.

And it will, because the sponge contains something called nonoxynol-9. Yeah, that’s nasty stuff. This is how it kills a sperm:

“Nonoxynol-9 interacts with the lipids in the membranes of the acrosome and the midpiece of the sperm. The sperm membranes are lysed; the acrosome, neck and midpiece of the spermatozoa are loosened and then detached which results in their immobilization and death.”

Read it carefully. The sperm are decapitated! Their necks are detached and loosened! Poor fellows!

There’s hope!

I read that there is a ten to twenty percent failure rate in Nonoxynol-9 spermicide use. Now, that’s a macho man. He gets trapped in a giant sponge, they try to hack his head off, but he ducks. He bobs. He weaves. He sees an opening. He slides through. He’s being played by Russel Crowe in the movie version. He’s made it through the sponge! Yay Russel Sperm! Swim Russel, swim!!!

And look! An egg! A beautiful egg! Then, crash! He goes headfirst into the wall of the egg, which shatters like a storefront window at the BLM protest, and in he goes.

The rest is mediocre history — he doesn’t do well on his O-levels. Or his plus sevens. Or his elevenses. I love the British testing system — it’s so arcane and different from our boring old tenth grade, eleventh grade, twelfth grade.

I just think testing systems should work prop’ly. And they should be bizarre and British.

At the end of the day, I guess it’s more humane just to paralyze the little buggers with the Dyson vacuum cleaner.

Boys, it’s bath time. Come on, upstairs. Now!

Then I’ll count, like I’ve heard these Moms do to get their toddlers moving.

“One, two, three…”

Sidenote: what happens if these Moms get to five and the kids still aren’t moving? Do they whack ‘em upside the head?

“Coming momma!”

Good boys. Now in you go. Hop in the nice warm bath.

Bwa ha ha ha ha ha!!!!

Alright Daddy, let’s shag!!!