I bribed a biologist with mochas to show me lots and lots of cum once.
She ran a fertility clinic and our tour began in the floral infused hallway. A hallway lined with doors to very small rooms. Rooms for men to sit, watch porn and cum into plastic cups.
Then we were in a sunlit lab of microscopes and she asked if I wanted to see a heroin addict's sperm? 'Why, I would love that!'
She showed me normal sperm so I knew what normal looked like first. The heroin addict, the cocaine snuffler, the pothead and maybe an alcoholic's sperm - I don't remember all of them but they were ALL deformed. Low sperm counts, giant heads, tiny tails, super long tails and mini heads. None of them the Michael Phelps of orgasmic potential, to be sure.
When a friend of mine had conceived after trying for ages with her pothead husband, I noticed her baby had a seriously dazed and stupified look in her eyes. When mom wasn't looking, I clapped in front of the baby's face to see if she startled. Nothing. She reminded me of the zombie sperm in the petri dish. Strong resemblance. Mom didn't smoke anything, so just a guess but I think a spermazoa was high on dad's stash and happened to be loitering at the cervical 7-11 when it opened.
After the microscope adventures, she took me into a room that was dimly lit up with one halogen bulb above a long table at the end. Lining both sides of the room were giant cherry red fridges and one very attractive, energetic man whisked over on his rolling stool to shake my hand. 'The Handmaid's Tale' had been required reading for last semester's Dystopic Fiction class and all the red and sperm everywhere had gone to my head. Led Zepplin was blaring through the speakers. As in '...squeeze my lemon 'til the juice runs dooown my leg.' Hot science guy asked if I wanted to see an ovum. 'Yes, please.' We didn't exactly make love in surreal non-fiction time, but it was memorable. I got to play with knobs that moved single cellular pre-life forms around in goo and go "Aaah!".