You are John Harvey Kellogg, Seventh Day Adventist and sex-repulsed asexual. You have just invented the ultimate anti-masturbation tool: the corn flake. Your life is going nowhere. Your wife has left you for another man (though he's only after her money), your children barely remember who you are, and your job as an accountant at The Urantia Foundation has become a joke to everyone but yourself. You hold in your hand the key to your freedom, out of the drudgery of your job and away from your bitch ex-wife. There's a place in Michigan you can go to get away from it all, and in between your fingers is the crispy, bland ticket to your freedom and success. But first... You open the package. Inside, nestled within a bed of crisp, dry leaves, is a corn flake. And you know what that means. It means you will never masturbate again. Not that you ever have before. As you know, you, John Harvey Kellogg have never came, and now you know you never will again. If you could only implant a large enough quantity of these into Lake Michigan, you could stop entire states from cumming! It takes some time for you to work up the courage to reach down and pick up the flake with your right hand. "Well?" asks Ingrid, looking over your shoulder. "Are they ready?" "Yes Ingrid, they are... and they're perfect." You turn to face Ingrid, holding the corn flake up into the golden sunlight. "But we need more, my invaluably hunchbacked goon! Tons upon tons more! We'll stop entire populations from enjoying their genitals!" Ingrid smiles, and she reaches down into the bag beside her chair. She pulls out a small bottle and unscrews its lid. She pours a generous helping of white powder onto the ground and then tosses in one of the corn flakes. Your blood freezes as you witness an unspeakable sin. "SWEETENER?!" you thunder. "SWEETENER ON MY CORNFLAKES?! I SHOULD KILL YOU, HOW DARE YOU! YOU'VE BEEN WORKING FOR MY BROTHER THE WHOLE DAMN TIME?!" Ingrid looks up at you innocently, and says nothing. You scream for a moment longer, but soon realize this is futile. You have no choice but to eat the sweetener. "Never..." you whisper. "You cannot make me, I will not spill my seed because of your devilish WHORE POWDER." You resist Ingrids goon strength to the best of your abilities, and in the struggle you both end up wounded. The sugar is pink with blood and the floor of the shack is slick with blood as you both stare into each others eyes, watching your life fade ever quicker . You have failed. You have been defeated by your own lust. And now, the world will be without orgasms forever. The End. *** You sit alone on the shore of Lake Michigan, staring out across the vast expanse of water.