Dr. Cobblestone’s Field Study on Hypnotic Animals of the Vulvaic Islands. (Animalisi hypnoticus vulvae)

Prelude, Journal of Dr. A. Cobblestone :

I have just finished the initial unpacking of our base camp and am excited to start field research tomorrow. The inner jungles of the largest Vulvaic Island, Mons Labia, are notorious for their tenacious foliage and swampy lowlands, but our spirits are high as we dive into the depths.

By we, I mean myself and my field assistant, June Hardrum. Ms. Hardrum had decided that life as a high-end porn star was too tedious and decided to seek out the thrilling, glorious life as a biologist instead. Even I must admit her previous work (both academic and film) is top-notch, but I worry she may not have the experience needed to hunt down and study these elusive and, quite possibly, dangerous specimens.

Many of the locals refuse to come to these islands, citing amusing anecdotes of people falling under the “spell of the jungle”, so my translator tells me, and are never heard of again. Still, there may be a grain of truth to these superstitious legends, as I may have stumbled upon an entire ecosystem that relies on overriding the critical mental faculties of higher life forms in the jungle, either to procure food, defend themselves, or enlist other services. If I am successful in cataloging the most impressive of these specimens, I shall surely be nominated for the prestigious J. A. Wankman Prize in Biology, to say nothing of the juicy cash endowment.

Tomorrow brings great potential, indeed.

Specimen 1: The Swampland Horned Hypno Toad (Bombinator zonkalaus)

This morning, Ms. Hardrum and I hiked down to the lowland swamps in the center of the island, where we were fortunate enough to find a knot of toads meandering on the banks. Legend had it that those who loitered too close to the swamp fell into the deepest sleep, sometimes for days. All who returned raved about a song in the swamp that turned all who listened irresistibly drowsy.

Fiddle-faddle to be sure, but all the same, we brought along noise-canceling earmuffs to properly observe all phenomena from a distance. It was my hypothesis that the soporific song of the swamp was a product of the conjoined chorus of the swampland toads, for reasons that I’ve yet to discover, but there was only one way to find out.

Which brings me to the matter of my test subject.

Ms. Hardrum and I flipped a coin the night before to see who would expose themselves to the elements of the swamp wearing a brain and heart monitor. The other would act as observer, collecting all necessary data. June lost and, after a brief argument as to the authenticity of my two-headed coin, reluctantly agreed.

Removing her earmuffs, Ms. Hardrum found a seat on a sturdy log, brushing back her long dark hair to fit the brain collar around her head.

I had just finished calibrating the brain wave and heart rate monitor when, almost as if on cue, a fat, speckled, golden toad hopped onto the side of the log. Ms. Hardrum recoiled in disgust, but I implored her to keep her composure, for the sake of science.

Ms. Hardrum was reticent, but stayed still as the frog began its song.

“Ribbibbibbidoooo….ribbibbibbidoooo…”

I recorded the sound for posterity. It appeared to resemble a deep rolling drum based on its auditory signature. I watched Ms. Hardrum stare at the toad as her eyes began to gradually grow heavier. I noticed her head nodding several times as she fought the drowsy sleepiness of the toad’s unrelenting song. She crossed her eyes and yawned comically and then, finally, succumbed to sleep.

I watched her heart settle to a low 45 beats per minute while her brainwaves dropped to delta. She was completely unconscious, sitting with her head lolling to one side, snoring along to the rhythm of the toad’s song.

What happened next positively astounded me! Several gold, speckled toads crawled out of the tepid swamp and climbed over Ms. Hardrum’s body, perching on her knees, shoulders, with one lucky toad nestled in her generous cleavage. The song intensified, and Ms. Hardrum swayed softly on her seat, her eyes closed. I began to notice a marked increase in the number of gnats, mosquitos, and other such insects, drawn to the warm flesh of my research assistant. They hardly made it within a few inches of her body before a swarm of pink tongues snatched up every one of them. The toads were using Ms. Hardrum as bait and feasting off the frenzy of bugs!

Remarkable!

I stayed, recording my data, safely insulated from the toad’s hypnotic song, while Ms. Hardrum snoozed obliviously inside a cloud of flies and gnats, completely subdued by the toads’ soothing melody. By sundown, the toads, which were observably fatter, retreated into the water, and Ms. Hardrum’s brain activity quickly sprang back to waking.

To be sure, Ms. Hardrum did not share my excitement of our success, complaining incessantly about the myriad of insect bites she had gotten over the course of the day. I offered to play her back the recordings I had made of the toads to further convince her that her bug bites would not be in vain. After several seconds of listening to the rolling call of the toads, Ms. Hardrum was far more agreeable and quickly fell asleep after I escorted her to her tent.

I would be sure to keep the recording on hand for any more issues on protocol.

Specimen 2: The Pendulum Snake (Anilios pendulus)

The next day, Ms. Hardrum and I made our way to the old-growth forest where people had reportedly disappeared to serve the spirits of the trees. We shall soon see if it is ‘spirits’ responsible or the work of the devious tree snakes that litter the forest here.

Ms. Hardrum insisted that I should serve as test subject this time, pointing out that it was my turn. I staunchly corrected her, reminding her that it was her turn to be the test subject, and I offered to play yesterday’s recording as proof. After hearing the croaking sound of the toads, she wholeheartedly agreed and walked into the grove of trees without any protective gear.

It was no time at all before a thin coil of vibrant, green scales dropped down from a branch above, dangling just in front of Ms. Hardrum’s eyes. She gasped in surprise as a delicate head came into view, its golden eyes locking onto Ms. Hardrum’s, and it began to sway. The young snake oscillated its head from side to side in a slow, languorous motion, and it wasn’t long before Ms. Hardrum was helplessly copying the movement with her own head. I had heard of some charlatans who claimed tp be able to charm a snake, but never had I seen a snake charming a woman.

I glanced down at the brain monitor. Ms. Hardrum’s brain activity was slow, but semi-conscious, spiking slightly with each bob of the snake’s head. The snake slowed and reared up. Ms. Hardrum’s eyes were opened wide, but unseeing, as she lifted her arm straight out in front of her, allowing the pendulum snake to slither onto her body. It wrapped around her head and shoulder, allowing its tail, sparkling with rainbow scales, to twist and turn in front of my field assistant’s face.

For the rest of the day, the snake steered Ms. Hardrum through the forest, directing her with subtle pressure against her head and neck. The snake drove her to several fruit trees and made silent suggestions to her to pick a variety of berries, feeding each one into the mouth of the snake riding on her shoulder.

I had trouble keeping up with them as they covered quite a bit of territory, the snake’s twirling tail riveting Ms. Hardrum’s attention the entire time. When the snake finally ate its fill, it slithered down Ms. Hardrum’s leg, leaving her to groggily stagger back to camp.

As it turned out, Ms. Hardrum had several serious complaints with my methods and threatened to file a formal disciplinary report. I once again showed her the fruits of our labors by playing her my recording of the swampland toads. She forgot all about the report after that.

I then enticed her back to my tent, where I demonstrated the unique powers of the wily trouser snake.

Specimen 3: The Short-haired Mountain Pussy (Felinius vibratorus)

Our next specimen took us up into the majestic peaks of Mons Labia, where several peasants, mostly women, were known to vanish for weeks at a time, reappearing severely dehydrated and with no memory of what transpired. This territory is also shared by a rare species of mountain bobcat, and the overlap of the vanishing women and bobcat territory was too significant to ignore.

Again, Ms. Hardrum voiced her concerns at being a test subject again. I explained that, as a woman, she was most likely to attract the attention of the bobcats and would be the best choice for a test subject. As I explained, I kept my finger lazily wagging in the air, very reminiscent of the pendulum snake’s dance, as I soon brought my field assistant around to my way of thinking.

Ms. Hardrum sat down in a small mountain clearing, enjoying the view, when a small rustling in the brush made both of our hearts skip. A small, black bobcat puss tumbled into view, and Ms. Hardrum struggled to keep her enthusiasm in check, adorable a specimen as it was.

The bobcat puss made bold enough to stagger into Ms. Hardrum’s lap. I tried to remind my field assistant to keep her objectivity and refrain from stroking the pussy, but Ms. Hardrum could hardly control herself, perhaps affected already by a subliminal signal from the animal. As the small cat curled up between Ms. Hardrum’s legs, a resonant buzz, a purr really, vibrated through her body and even through the solid ground beneath me. As I was safely seated above, on a ramshack platform, I only registered the vibrations on my equipment, while Ms. Hardrum got a full blast.

The buzzing tingled through her, raising her pulse rate on my monitors. Ms. Hardrum’s eyes rolled around her head as her hand compulsively stroked and pet the pussy between her legs. She began to vocalize small whimpers and moans as she ran her hand over the pussy again and again. I registered a spike in her body temperature and noted her eyes dilating, indicating arousal and a release of oxytocin in her body. Her moans grew louder and Ms. Hardrum began to writhe provocatively as the pussy lounged comfortably in her lap.

I observed the strange behavior for the better part of the day, watching as Ms. Hardrum obediently catered to the small pussy as if she was its mother, stroking and preening it, fetching it water, and savagely beating off a by-passing vulture eyeing the small cat for its next meal. The pussy would crawl into Ms. Hardrum’s lap at every opportunity, bringing its purring vibrato to full volume, flooding my field assistant with waves of pleasure.

By near sundown, the bushes rustled and a very agitated, female bobcat arrived looking for its young. I had to scare both the cats off with my shotgun, waking Ms. Hardrum up in the process, before shutting the experiment down for the night.

The effects of the pussy’s vibrations seemed to linger with Ms. Hardrum, keeping her indolent and highly aroused all evening. I kept watch over my field assistant dutifully, offering to stroke her pussy for her, to relieve her of the lingering side effects.

She was in no position to refuse.

Specimen 4: The Jewel of Morpheus (Lepitopdera slumberus)

I was surprised this morning to discover that Ms. Hardrum had been conducting her own research on the mating habits of a certain, iridescent butterfly species without my authorization. She presented her observations on how the females use alluring displays of color and pheromones to attract loyal mates and postulated on how the powder from their wings could be used for various psychological treatments.

Sadly, I had to reprimand her harshly, reminding her that her place was a field assistant, which is much more fitting for a young lady, even one as intelligent as she. She grew most agitated and stormed off before I could lecture her further.

I must remember to write to the university head and have him screen female personnel closely for erratic, overly emotional misbehavior such as this.

Specimen 5: The Double Headed Sweater Puppy (Busteriferus boobilicious)

It wasn’t long after lunch when Ms. Hardrum approached me with another hair-brained study, this time on the notorious sweater puppies sighted in our base camp. She was kind enough to display a pair of specimens for me to admire.

She confidently explained that her sweater puppies were capable of executing a very compelling dance that proved infallible at inviting the cooperation of anything, or anyone, that observed it. I had to confess her studies were stunningly persuasive, as the sweater puppies were indeed very inviting to stare at. Ms. Hardrum went on in rather boring and tedious detail, while I studied every motion of the sweater puppies fastidiously, feeling my mind bend deliciously to their will.

By the end of the demonstration, I was completely convinced.

Dr. June Hardrum was an absolute genius for overseeing this field research. Every specimen we encountered was thanks to her impeccable research and expansive knowledge. She was clearly the smartest, most talented field biologist to ever have come out of the university, and it was my solemn duty to nominate her for the J. A. Wankman prize for her astounding field study.

I am also happy to announce that, under Dr. Hardrum’s persuasion, I would be stepping down from the University board of Academics and reapplying as a secretary for Dr. Hardrum.

That way I can happily organize files and fetch my infallible mentor, Dr. Hardrum coffees all day, content in my new role as her research slave.