I read that men who wear kilts have a higher sperm count than those who wear pants.

In this year, 2048, men with any sperm count at all are considered too masculine to leave the house alone. They must be
accompanied by a female household member to assure they don’t waste their sperm on some undeserving woman. They aren’t permitted to drive as it would give them too much independence.
***
I wanted more out of life than being a sex toy for my four wives, so I applied to the sperm control office for a work permit. There wasn’t one man out of the hundreds of employees there. I knew it would be an uphill battle, but I have more to offer the world than baking cookies.
The stern looking woman who called my name after a four hour wait wore a navy blue pantsuit. “I don’t understand why you’d want to work. We give you practically anything you want and we don’t want you tiring out so you can’t do your husbandly duties. A man’s place is at home where he’ll be safe.” She glanced down to see if I wore my kilt as the law commanded every male to do ever since our sperm count fell so low a doctor pronounced that the human race would expire if men’s sperm reached a point where they could no longer reproduce.
The doctor must have been a transvestite! Because of him, every man alive must wear a traditional kilt to keep their testicles cool. At least they don’t make us wear dresses. I personally don’t give a damn about how many sperm I have. I never once counted them. I don’t want to have a son who’ll have to grow up in a world dominate by women who will subjugate him to their whims and desires.
“You femdommes are all alike,” I shot back. “You treat any man with a sperm count as if all he’s good for is having sex. We have minds you know.”
“Calm down. If you’re going to be so persistent, maybe we can find you a nice safe job close to home.”
“That’s just it; I don’t want a safe job. I want excitement and danger in my life.”
She patted my hand. “Calm down, don’t want to affect your sperm count you know.”
“Sperm, that’s the only thing on your mind. I have dreams and ambitions, so it’s not fair to keep me cooped up and uneducated.”
“Men don’t need to be educated. Women will supply everything you’ll ever need.”
“I’m telling you that I want to earn my own living.” She looked at me as though I were insane.
“Tell you what Mister . . . Which of your wives name do you use?”
“I want to use my own name.”
“Okay then Mister, Christian. You can come to work here at the Sperm Control Center. We’re being forced to show that we’re not biased, so we have to have at least one male on the staff. Be here ready for work on Monday.”
Not one of my wives was happy to hear that I’d be going to work. All four of them wanted me at home so they’d be able to track me with the surveillance cameras set up throughout our house.
“How do you plan on getting to work?” Lisa, wife number one asked.
“I’ll ride my bicycle.”
“No!” shouted Pricilla, wife number two. “I don’t want your sperm count to drop and you know that’s why we don’t allow you to ride often.”
“Then, Judy can drop me off on the way to her job. It’s right around the corner from where she works.”
“How embarrassing,” Judy said. “My coworkers will think my husband has to work because I’m not taking care of him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll wear a disguise and cover my face so no one will recognize me.”
Monday came and Judy dropped me off at work. I felt her watching me until I entered the building. I went to the sixth floor to report for work and was assigned to the communications room. Probably so I’d be out of sight, but once I started work, I discovered my job was to archive all e-mails and correspondence between departments.
A month passed and I did a good job, I thought, but I couldn’t read any classified documents without knowing the password. One night I made love to Julia, wife number three and got her to tell me the secret password. The next day at work I opened a file marked classified and got the shock of my life when I read the title.
Male Eradication Program. Looking through the folder I saw that scientist had manipulated chromosomes in a way to make each individual fetus possess both the male XY and female XX chromosome creating a hermaphrodite. Hermaphroditism is a condition, enabling a form of sexual reproduction in which both partners can act as the female or male.
Holy shit, just like in The Left Hand of Darkness, they’re going to make it so women can reproduce themselves and will have no use for men in the near future. What could I do to stop this from happening?
I wasn’t sure what to do, but I had to alert all men what they were up to. I programmed a message into a robotic e-mail program and hit send. The second I hit the button, all screens went blank, lights flashed, bells rang and four women cops barged into the communications room with clubs in hand.
I awoke in a hospital bed, try to speak, but have no tongue. I look for a call button, see one and reach for it. It’s then that I notice I have no hands. Just then my boss from The Sperm Control Center enters my room with a smile on her face.
“Now you see why we don’t want men in the workforce?’
“You fucking bitch,” I wanted to yell, but could only grunt.
She put a hand on my leg. “Don’t worry big guy, we left the best part of you intact.”
My eyes followed hers and landed on my erection.