Primal Urges
Part One
ByJustJake051
Chapter One
Raymond Siders was drenched with sweat as he watched the men spread wide the legs of the naked native woman. The woman oddly didn't looked frightened, Raymond thought to himself as he sat next to his two colleagues in the small, dark hut in the village. A professor at a large West Coast university, Raymond and the two other professors from the Anthropology Department had been awarded a grant to study life in a remote and isolated sub-Continent village. Heretofore, the village had been totally cut off from the outside world. So, when Raymond, Carl Felton and Tom Jacobs, his colleagues in the department, convinced the tribal elders to allow them to live in the village and observe for three months, it was a major research coup.
Now, as the torches flickered in the stifling heat, the three men listened as one of the tribal elders explained. Holding up a large, green caterpillar, the elder declared that the life, fertility and family bonds of the village all centered on the green caterpillars of the region. He moved closer to the three sweating, white faces and held up the large insect, telling them to look closely at the back of the creature. There, on the back of the caterpillar, the elder said, are the "eggs of life." On the back of the large worm, the three scholars could clearly see eight tiny white ovoid eggs firmly attached. With a steady hand, the elder gently detached one of the eggs, about half the size of a grain of rice, for the researchers to see.
With a nod from the old man to another elder holding the naked girl's legs, a second tribesman took a small knife and lowered it to her exposed, hairless vagina. The woman wasn't struggling, as the three white men would have expected. On the contrary, she was smiling, aglow with anticipation at what was about to happen to her. The man with the knife reached out with his fingers and spread the woman's sex lips. With the knife, he made the tiniest of cuts, less than a quarter of an inch long, in the crease between one outer and inner lip of her vagina. With that, the senior elder chanted several words directly to the tiny egg resting on his fingertip, and then pressed the tiny white dot into the small pink cut on the woman's's vagina. He squeezed the two vaginal folds together, nodded to the woman and she rose and left the hut. That was the first of five identical fertility ceremonies the three researchers would witness that night.
When the five rites were finished, the men all left the hut and gathered around the fire as the elder began to explain what the outsiders had observed. Only one egg could be harvested from a single caterpillar, otherwise the caterpillar would die and the village would become barren. The fertility rite was only performed once a year and only by the village elders. The tiny eggs of the green caterpillar were sacred seeds that were implanted into the skin of the eligible women of the village when they reached the age to marry. Within three days, the elder explained, the eggs would make the women fertile and aid them in finding a husband. In three days, the elder said with a laugh and an obscene gesture, the young women would ripen and become "man hungry." A woman's hunger would drive her to find the right man to put out the fire in her body, a fire created by the egg. Thus, the woman would always be grateful and indebted to her husband for putting out the fire and would always be a good wife, he said. Again, the old man laughed.
Raymond, as senior faculty and spokesperson for the trio, thanked the elders for allowing them to watch the ceremony, and the three Americans retreated to their hut to make notes of the evening, talk about their good fortune at being in the village during the time of the fertility rite, and ultimately air their skepticism. They all agreed that almost certainly the eggs served as nothing more than a suggestive placebo to the young women.
The next three days in the village passed uneventfully and the researchers had frankly just dismissed the earlier event completely. Just another superstitious ritual that spawns the quaint tribal myths of village life, Raymond had decided. That is until that evening. In their hut, Raymond, Carl and Tom were discussing what they should accomplish during the remaining two weeks of the three-month grant, when a woman entered their hut. All three men instantly recognized her as one of the women of the fertility ritual. It was clear something was different about the woman, but it was only when she untied the cloth that covered her body did the scholars realize what. As she dropped the fabric and stood before them naked, the men noticed that her tiny breasts were now quite swollen, over half-again their original size. It was as if she was pregnant and her breasts had become engorged with milk. But that wasn't at all the case. The three men could also see that the woman's vaginal lips were now quite swollen and distended and of a bright pink color, bordering on red, Raymond thought, squinting through the torchlight.
The young woman smiled and playfully asked them which one of them was going to have sex with her tonight. Somewhat confused, the three politely refused her offer. Outraged, the young woman began screaming and shouting, which brought the elders rushing onto the scene. The irate woman was sent away, on to an adjacent hut as the old man laughed. The elders explained that for the next two weeks all of the young women involved in the fertility rite would have sex with any man in the village - married, unmarried, young, or old, it didn't matter. For the next several weeks the village would be the scene of a large orgy, an elder explained. As men residing in the village, the Americans would be expected to participate, the old man added. As the two weeks passed, he continued, the women would become more passionate and allow potential husbands to sample them at their sexual peak. Then at the end of the two weeks, the pairing off for marriage would be done. But for the next two weeks, the women were "crazy with the sex heat," he chuckled. With that, the elders left.
There was little sleep in the American's hut that night. The three professors spent the entire night talking about the research implications of what they had just witnessed. Their published articles would be groundbreaking, their success in academia skyrocketing. Finally, they drifted off to sleep. All except Raymond Siders, who slipped unnoticed out of the hut and into the night.
The following morning, Carl and Tom were shocked to learn that Raymond had left the village and returned to the United States. They found the note he left, explaining that as a married man, he would have to leave before being unfaithful to his wife. He was returning to the University. Since Carl and Tom were single, he encouraged them to enjoy the customs of the village. What neither Carl nor Tom knew was that during the night, Raymond Siders had ventured into the brush, found one of the green caterpillars with eggs attached, and packed the creature into his belongings before leaving. The two young researchers just smiled and joked about the sacrifices they would have to make in the name of science.
Chapter Two
On the long flight home to the West coast, Raymond Siders was working the whole thing out in his mind. He would beat both Carl and Tom to the punch in publishing his article about the amazing fertility ritual, and thereby gain academic fame. Hell, he thought, this will ensure his being named the next department chairman. He would not be passed over again for promotion, not now. But academic fame was not all there was, he realized. He could take the caterpillar eggs to a chemical research group, find out exactly what it was and sell the formula to a pharmaceutical company for untold wealth. There wasn't a drug company around who wouldn't pay millions for the formula for a real female aphrodisiac. Viagra was child's play compared to the money this stuff could make him, he mused. He dozed off to sleep as the plane soared westward, and Raymond Siders counted his millions
Many hours later, as the taxi pulled away from in front of his house, Raymond handled his small carry-on bag very carefully. He rushed inside and flew past his stunned wife, Helen, on his way to the study.
"Hi, Helen. Had to come home early. Important business. Grab my luggage, will you? It's on the curb," he called to her, and disappeared into the study, the sound of the door locking behind him.
Quickly, he dug into the carry-on bag and pulled out the toothbrush container. Slowly he opened the plastic cover and his heart surged as the big green caterpillar lifted its head.
"It made it!" he thought. "It's still alive!" and he sat down and began to plan his next steps. His fortune and glory crawled slowly across the desktop and Raymond suddenly looked worried.
What if the symptoms of the women in the village were psychosomatic results of years of mythical indoctrination, he thought? What if they reacted that way because they were expected to react that way? What if the caterpillar eggs really had nothing to do with it, he questioned? He would be made to look like a complete fool if he didn't test it for himself. He had to know for sure that it worked. But how, he asked? Who could he get to test the egg on? Then it hit him.
"Of course!" he said excitedly. "Helen! I'll test it on Helen!"
With lightening speed, Raymond began to plan out the events of the evening. Helen was not a sexy woman, he rationalized, so there would be no way anything else could induce her to a sexual passion. Indeed, he thought, at thirty years old, though she was ten years younger than he, she always acted forty-five. A plain woman, she did little to make herself attractive. But then Raymond really didn't care if Helen was attractive or not, as long as she was dutiful and supportive as a faculty wife.
At dinner that evening, Raymond recounted is journey to the primitive village to Helen. She listened obediently and nodded with interest as he told her about tribal life, but omitting any mention of the fertility rite or the caterpillar. After dinner, Helen began clearing the dinner dishes and it was a simple task for Raymond to drop three small sleeping pills into her wine glass. Then, just to make sure she drank, he offered a toast, as she returned to the table.
"To my loving wife," he said lifting his glass, "who will always be an enormous help in my success."
Helen looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled and swallowed the remainder of the red wine. Raymond feigned a yawn, and suggested they turn in early. Exhausted from his trip, he said. Within an hour, Helen was asleep in the bed, deeply sedated from the pills. Working quickly, Raymond tugged down the Helen's cotton pajamas shorts, spread her legs wide apart and dashed downstairs. With steady hands, he gently detached one of the small translucent eggs from the sluggish caterpillar and ran back upstairs to the bedroom. He wedged his fingers between her vaginal lips, pushed aside the thick matte of public hair, until he found an identical spot to the one used by the tribal elders. Just as he has seen the old man do, he made a tiny surface cut between his wife's vaginal folds. Chanted the words the old man had said, more out of wishful luck than a belief in the tribal superstition. "Hell, it can't hurt," he muttered quietly. He quickly pressed the tiny egg into the small wound, press the vaginal lips together, just as he had seen done, and pulled her pajama shorts back up.
Slipping back into bed, Raymond could hardly keep from laughing. If for some strange reason this thing really did work, he found it difficult to imagine his wife in a sexually aroused state. Their marriage had always been rather chilly, cold in point of fact, and he could probably count on both hands the number of times they had sex in their eight years of marriage. But Raymond had preferred it that way. He supposed that Helen might be considered in some circles an attractive woman, but he preferred her drabness. It offered no distractions from his research, which is after all, was just what he wanted from a wife.
Helen Siders awoke the next morning feeling sluggish and with an enormous hangover. She couldn't believe that two glasses of wine could make her feel so bad. In the shower, she discovered a small tender spot between her legs. Probing the folds of her vagina, she discovered a small red patch. She must have managed to scratch herself somehow, she thought to herself, and she immediately dismissed it.
