The Dildo Factory Story

In honor of the contest running here to name my newly endorsed and revolutionary product and the company who’s product have inspired so much factory rejected joy, over the next week I will be reissuing the Dildo Factory series as a lead up to the unveiling of the product name and its winner.

Don’t forget to get your own chance to win by entering a name in the comment section.

dildo sign 1

As obvious as it sounds, every building has a roof on it. Eventually all of these roofs will need some kind of maintenance. Quite frankly, if they didn’t my business would be just me driving around in my truck looking wistfully at buildings and sighing a lot.

Fortunately for me I am excellent at what I do so we end up on buildings housing every different type of manufacturing and warehousing you can imagine. One of my personal favorites was a factory that recycled all things made from rubber. It’s a pretty ingenious process actually. They grind almost all types of plastic up and they are then molded into little plastic balls to be reused somewhere else. It’s not the most lucrative business but it lead into a maintenance contract that had us at the building about once a month.

I had a couple of questions for the building manager but had to wait for a scrap truck to finish unloading before I could go inside.  As I stood at the edge of the building I watched crate after crate of multi hued rubber being hauled out of trucks and carted into the building. It was after about the tenth crate something funny caught my eye. It was the shape of the products in the crates.

Dildos. Hundreds and hundreds of dildos. Every color of the rainbow. Every size, shape and texture you could think of. Ribbed, rippled and bumped. It was quite mesmerizing actually.

There was no way I could let an opportunity like this slip away.

After I met the building manager to go over our plan for the day, I watched as he left the warehouse floor and I ran as fast as I could to where the crates were stacked.  I grabbed two giant handfuls of rubber cock and headed outside. With a maniacal grin, I heaved them up on the roof.

” What the fuck is that?,” my Dad asked as I sprinted back into the building and grabbed more. One in particular caught my eye. It was an actual rubber fist dildo. Molded in the shape of a gigantic black fist, I giggled like a school girl before running outside with my new trophy raised high.

” Who wants to get fisted?,” I yelled as I climbed the ladder only to find a sight I hadn’t expected. My whole team was throwing dildos at each other. It was like a kaleidoscope of flying rubber cocks.

” Knock that shit off and get the fuck back to work,” my dad bellowed from across the building. Sheepishly, we all went back to work sweeping and shovelling gravel but the dildofest didn’t get any better. Any second my dads back was turned, a dildo was lobbed at someone or something. Every broom and shovel had a giant rubber cock stuck to the end of it.  My brother Matt used bonding adhesive and some duct tape to actually make a dildo-man that is still on the building to this day.

” Can we please get some work done around here?” my Dad asked, his voice bordering on that fine line between anger and laughter.

” Ummm, Dad?,” I asked as I nodded toward his hand. He had his hand wrapped around the end of a broom that had been topped with a semi translucent, green dildo complete with a set of dangling testicles.

He looked over at his hand and burst of laughter ripped out of him.

” I have no idea who they molded this off but he should get that set of nuts checked out,” my Dad chuckled ” That’s just not right.”

The building manager came up the ladder then and saw the mounds of dildos everywhere. He eyed us suspiciously and then let out a laugh.

” Can you believe what they send me to work with?,” he asked. ” They say its the highest grade silicone produced in Canada but these are all the ones that don’t pass quality control.”

” How exactly do they test that?,” I asked trying to hold in a laugh.

” I guess they test them the same way I do,” he laughed, ” My wife loves that black fist one.”