At the edge of the tarmac, Bill takes a last hungry leer at young Jake, squatting under the C-130, his buttocks clearly defined in the snug jumpsuit, inspecting the interior of a wheel well. “So, forget about Red… Red is off limits to me… Red is not for sale. Such audacity, to set boundaries for me…we’ll just see about Red,” thinks Bill. “I’ll be seeing you soon, young Red. I always get what I want. And I want you, young Red. Red’s blue jumpsuit and black boots will be on my bedroom floor sooner or later,” sneers Bill as he glares towards Jake who is out of earshot. “The hunter is not the only contractor I use to acquire items I want! Yes, I’ll have young Red hooded and on a leash, soon enough. All things in time,” cackles the old man, finally returning his attention back to Tarzan.

Bill unsnaps the chain-leash attached to Tarzan’s collar; it clatters noisily as he tosses the chain into the back of his old jeep. He walks around the dazed Tarzan several times, who stands unsteadily, breathing deeply, and shifting his weight anxiously… still tightly restrained before his unseen master. “Yes, the ugly black monkey mask is perfect for you, my very handsome friend—I’ve you into an ugly monkey. From now on, you’ll be known as Tarzan, “the Monkey Man of San Miguel.” Your handsome features are gone, you’re grotesque. No more golden blond hair or bright blue eyes for women or men to drool over. No one will ever see your handsome face again, pretty boy. It belongs to me—as does every other part of you,” sneers the old man, and he pulls a long thick piece of coiled leather cord from his pocket, and shakes it menacingly at the hooded man.

 “Bomba will soon suffer the same fate as you, Tarzan… but not as an ape. I’ve picked a different animal to transform Bomba into,” muses Bill. “What kind of animal should I make young handsome Red into, Tarzan? Let me see… I’ve got it, Tarzan. A pig! Yes, young Red will make a perfect pig boy,” decides Bill as he rubs the coiled leather on Tarzan’s hard pecs. “I’ll have a hood made of fine red leather to accent his red body hair. Yes, a leather hood shaped into the face of pig, complete with pointed ears and a flat nose. I’ll have a mud pit dug, and I’ll keep Red, “the Pig Boy of San Miguel,” wallowing naked in it,” promises the old man. And once again gets back to the matter at hand.

Bill almost drools as he slowly ambles, his belly bouncing, once more around the tall, strapping young man who has not ceased sweating in the afternoon sun. Bill gazes hungrily at the young man’s tanned muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat – the wide-hard pecs and rippling abs – muscular thighs and powerful leg calves – ample round buttocks – and large bulging biceps, folded and harnessed tightly behind a wide muscular back.

The fat old man grins wickedly at the hooded young man and then suddenly grabs the jungle man by the balls. Tarzan flinches, and the old man makes the young man heel with a sharp pull on his ball sac. “Steady, Monkey Man,” admonishes the fat old man, who quickly and expertly weaves a snug leather harness around Tarzan’s cock and balls using the coil of leather cord. “It’s time to get you to the barn, Tarzan, for your punishment… punishment for spoiling my hunting safari back in the spring. You’re going to feel the kiss of my whip, Monkey Man. First, I’m going to horse whip you to within an inch of your life—and then I’m going to fuck you hard, Gorilla Face… while you can still feel the sting of my whip,” cackles the old man, as he adjusts his raging hard-on contained within his stained pants under his fat belly.

The fat old man squeals with glee as he ties the cord attached to Tarzan’s cock and ball harness tightly to the trailer hitch of the jeep. He licks his lips and breathes hard as he squeezes back into the jeep and starts the engine. Tarzan feels the first sharp tug on the leather cord wrapped snugly around his cock and balls and instinctively follows the jeep. Bill looks back and smiles wickedly at the sight he has waited to see for so long: the mighty Tarzan, King of the Jungle, utterly his, owned and humiliated.