The Telemachus Story Archive

Tarzan and the Snare of the Witchdoctor
Part 2
By Wolfpek (Illustrated by Herodotus)
Email: Wolfpek

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Well aware of the need for haste, the wizened ancient reluctantly unhanded his charge. Now for a journey that wet his dreaming cot nightly. "Come. Oh great lord of the jungle, I must cast my spell"

He throws the helpless stud over one shoulder, his skeletal arm encircling one massive upper thigh and steps out into the late afternoon light.

What the witchdoctor's subjects saw made their mouth's dry with desire and every man fist his dick desperately.

Here was the mighty Tarzan, lord of the jungle, who had defeated the strongest men and beasts of the jungle. This great and beautiful hero, hanging helpless and limp, like prey hanging from the mouth of a lion, over the hunched shoulder of his wizened nemesis. Those great forearms swinging slightly with the laboured movements of his captor, the knuckles nearly grazing the ground. The tree trunk legs swaying with the same motion, an emaciated arm wrapped possessively around the curved upper thigh.

The ass. Those perfectly round solid globes of muscle, they had all, for years, strained to glimpse barley hidden under the loincloth. That delicious ass slung so very helplessly, exposed, finally nude for all to see over that evil shoulder next to the leering skull like face of the evil witchdoctor, being carried to it's unspeakable doom.

The very thought of what the leering villain would do to that ass, made some of the henchman cum, and others jump to action.

Still bloody from their humiliation at the hands of this luscious stud exposed to them, the three largest and most sinister of the witchdoctor's henchman block his path. "We deserve payment for helping you capture the jungle king"

"I told you, as soon as I receive payment from Dr. Nefario, you will receive compensation."

"No... we want that ass? we want it NOW!"

Tarzan can feel the many lustful eyes latched on to his naked ass, and prays for the potion to wear off.

The witchdoctor is annoyed. He knows that at any moment. The naked hunk so secure in his grasp could awake and kill them all while these greedy fools try to steal him.

"Very well, you will get what you deserve" He spies a tree stump lying in the centre of the village. He drapes the limp muscleman face down over the rough surface, barely able, himself, to resist falling on those golden round glutes presented so beautifully before him. Tarzan understands that unless he escapes this will be a usual position for him. The jungle sorcerer draws a circle in the dust around the contested prize and whispers an incantation.

"All you have to do is step through the circle and claim it" He sneers, and a battle ensues, as the angry henchman struggle for the right to take their lustful revenge on the helpless hero. Jackals warring over a bloody kill. After a long and fatal struggle, a winner emerges. His dick hardened to impossible proportions he strides toward his goal, as he steps onto the circle, Tarzan hears a scream behind him.

The evil witchman kicks the head swallowed up to its neck by the earth as a line of fire ants approach from the jungle. "Does anyone else care to challenge my powers?" This ass belongs to me! And we will all benefit from the sale of our jungle king here! Who else will come forward?"

Cowed by the screams of the buried henchman, the rest fall back. Lifting the naked stud by the hair, the witchdoctor once again drapes the muscleman enticingly over his shoulder and one hand cupping a lusciously presented buttock, continues toward his goal. The witchdoctor had meant to savour this part. How he had longed to carry this manly warrior ass slung over his shoulder just like this. The rippling muscles of the torso resting against his back, the cock trapped between his bony shoulder and the victim's abs. But now, because of this foolish interruption he must hurry. His minions following a respectable distance behind.

Villain and hero reach a bald hilltop the apex of which, surrounded by stone monoliths is found a blood stained sacrificial alter in front of some hideous and voracious stone deity. This is a place of ancient and potent magic. He lovingly lays his virile quarry across the rough and bloody stone, as he steps back to enjoy the sight of the meaty feast before him, he finds himself, instead lying in the dust several feet away his mind reeling from the devastating blow that had sent him there.

The hero had awakened, and was standing on the altar head thrown back huge fists beating savagely on those mountainous pectorals. ? and he was angry. To have been captured and humiliated by a weak and snivelling insect, and to have been violated by this disgusting creature. It was time for the witchdoctor to die.

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