Email: Wolfpek
The rooftops of the primeval forest stir in an invisible breeze, but what parts the leaves is the sculpted form of a man. Not just a man. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. Sinewy muscles flex and ripple as he gracefully swings from vine to vine. He wears only a heavy necklace made of the teeth of a rabid lion he had killed in hand to hand combat, his massive biceps and triceps encircled by metal bands, a leather band secures a sheathed dagger on his upper right thigh, and a small skin loincloth which only just covers his heavy thick manhood, and perfectly round muscled ass, the lean hips completely nude. His rugged brow and square jaw set with the effort of swinging from vine to vine, cautiously making his way toward the domain of the Witchdoctor. He has grappled with this gnarled sorcerer before, and knows he must approach with care. The Witchman's magic is as formidable as his treachery.
He has learned that the Witchdoctor has been collecting rare specimens of the local fauna and selling them to a sadistic collector, who conducts unethical experiments. Last night he had overheard two of the wizard's henchman discussing his latest plot, and gathered a cryptic bit of information. They said that the Witchdoctor had been paid a fortune for a cage containing the rarest, and most dangerous beast in the jungle.
There were many unsavoury types who inhabited this region, but no other would sink so low as to capture and sell of the animals and resources of this forest to avaricious foreigners. This betrayal of the code of the jungle must not go unanswered. As much as he was repulsed by the very sight of the evil mage, and wary of his powers, it fell to Tarzan to save this beast and bring it's captor to justice.
He had put a stop to such plans before and always showed mercy to the Witchdoctor out of respect for his position in his tribe. The way the leathery skinned ancient had leered at him always left him sickened. Now he would not show mercy. The sorcerer had gone too far.
As he comes within sight of the village and compound ruled by his quarry he finds it heavily guarded by the Withdoctor's oversized henchmen. This would not be easy, the witchdoctor, who has always hated and feared Tarzan has sent many of these giants to defeat him. They have always failed to the superior strength of the studly hero.
Like a predatory animal, he selects an unwary guard who has separated himself from the group first. Silently, he dispatches the 7 foot, 250 pound giant with a sleeper hold. One down, at least 20 of these oversized monsters to go. He manages to take two more out of commission before losing the advantage of surprise. He does not like to kill unnecessarily. After a long battle he has managed to subdue all of these henchman without fatality. Leaving them bleeding, bound or fled, and finally approaches past the frightened villagers to this enemy's hut.
A snivelling, emaciated figure emerges on it's knees, covered in tattoos, bead, and bone jewellery, a bone through his nose, and despite spindly extremities, a sizeable pot belly. The most disturbing aspect of this vision is its member, a deformity really, dragging past the knees on the ground wrinkled grapefruit sized balls behind it almost three times as thick as the spindly arms raised in supplication. The complicated feather headdress flowing in the slight breeze. "Please oh great white hunter, Lord of the jungle... mercy. We must make some small sacrifices in order for my followers to survive" lies the disturbingly high pitched voice. "mercy oh great one...mercy"
In spite of his pale blond hair, there is nothing "pretty" about our jungle hero. Too many years of hard fighting to maintain his position of jungle king have made him nothing but a hard edged archetype of virility. His cold grey eyes narrow, and his square stubble covered jaw set in contempt. "There are plenty of resources for your village to live on without selling the beasts of the jungle. You have betrayed the code of the jungle to satisfy your own greed, Witchdoctor... and you must pay. Stand aside" Skeletal arms encircle the massive calf of the jungle hero, as he drags the pleading magician toward the hut. Annoyed he kicks the supplicant aside into the dung, and spits in disgust. "I said stand aside." He rips the bead entranceway aside and steps inside to find the cage. Only waist high, just enough room for a crouching man, with a square cut away from the bars on one side. It is empty.
"Where is this rare, dangerous beast?" The hero roars as he feels a stinging pain in his neck, and clutches the dart imbedded into his bruised flesh. The chuckling witchdoctor lowers the blowpipe, watching the muscleman begin to stagger. "I am looking right at it. Thank you for so perfectly falling into my trap. I have been paid an enormous sum of money for you. I will satisfy my greed... and a lot more"
Tarzan knows what is infecting him. A very light narcotic. It does not put the victim to sleep, merely paralyzing for a short period. While the mind remains completely aware, the victim has no control at all over its body. He slumps over the cage exposing the golden lower curves of his barely covered ass, which the witchdoctor cups lightly before rolling his prey over face up, bending him back painfully over the top of the cage stretching the massive man tits up toward the gloating pervert.
"Y... you will... n... ever hold... me long". Mumbles Tarzan as he struggles to maintain consciousness. "Oh... I know that, my helpless beauty. That is why I will cast a spell to make to a more... shall we say... cooperative?... specimen, in your new masters collection"
Long tentacle like fingers begin to roam lightly of the long yearned for body, and Tarzan's mind begins to perceive what this drooling insect may have in store for him, as he realizes that these roaming hands are touching him in a way that he might touch his woman... How is it possible that a male would touch another male this way? The very concept made him want to retch, and yet these clammy extremities continue to lovingly cup his buttocks and roam up to his breasts, he feels the few pointy teeth left in the mouth of his attacker close around his left nipple and begin to nibble, pull and suckle.
The witchdoctor begins to shiver with the excitement of finally touching this fantasy which has ached within his dreams since appearing in his domain. He is surprised, and delighted to learn that there is nothing on Tarzan's body that is in anyway soft. Every muscle is so defined with strain, that even the buttocks... no especially the buttocks do not give to the touch, so hard so strong, like fondling smooth, warm rock. No wonder none of his minions have ever been able to defeat him.
Unable to believe he finally has succeeded he rips away the loincloth with one tug. Reverently he holds it over his face and inhales the masculine aroma deeply, slowly licking both small pieces of animal skin. He hung his new trophy around his neck, and looked down. Tarzan's cock was well, beautiful. Even though it fell nearly to the top of the knee, and was unusually fat, it did not seem out of proportion to the sculpted body it was a part of. He took it in his hand enjoying its heaviness and stroked lightly. He leaned close in to the lightly parted lips of this prone hunk and whispered tauntingly "... Our Jane is going to miss having this to play with, I will send her a message to say that we just had to keep it for ourselves" With that he plunged his tongue past those full lips and well down that manly throat.
There was no longer any doubt in Tarzan's mind of the fate in store for him, if he could not call back control of his body. He strained his mind to command his muscles, but the potion held him still. The shame of being so defeated and molested by this effeminate worm, more than his pride can bear.
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