Tarzan – Deposed Jungle Lord
Book V “Spider-man’s Demise”
Author: L. Cross – Approx. 2010.
Moderately enhanced/embellished/expanded/edited by Rick Henry, 10-2021
Chapter 5 “Betrayal”
A scene repeats itself on the remote jungle airstrip of San Miguel. A C-130 bearing a captured young hero arrives to be delivered and payment collected. This time no chains are needed to bind the captive superhero – for his young mind is magically enslaved and the body now follows blindly. Thus a stupefied Spiderman, unmasked, striped of his anonymity, steps down out of the plane’s cargo bay. Another young man in a security guard’s uniform, nightstick and holstered pistol guides a young man in bright tight red and blue webbed spandex by the upper arm clenching the costume’s mask in the other hand. Accordingly Ryan Blake leads Spiderman away from the C-130 transport towards the edge of the tarmac surrounded by a lush jungle as power is cut to the four big turbo prop engines; subsequently the engines begin to ramp down rapidly in response.
Jake, the red-headed young co-pilot, dressed in a tight nylon jumpsuit, Buffalo Bill’s ball cap and black combat style boots scurries about the sides of the big plane chocking the wheels and performing other docking procedures. The Hunter dressed in his traditional Brown fedora hat, white pants and faux-leather jacket and idol artifact bag emerges from the plane and trots after Ryan and Spiderman.
He reaches the pair and asks, “Where’s the old fat man.”
Ryan shouts above the diminishing engine noise, “I don’t know… I probably should just deliver Spiderman to the island’s brig instead of wasting time waiting for him to show up,” replies Ryan hopefully.
“Okay, it’s a short jaunt through the jungle to the brig; hurry back – I’m not spending any more time than I have to on this island,” replies the Hunter as the engines go silent and the din of the surrounding jungle filters back onto the airstrip.
“How about Jake showing me the way… never have been to the brig,” fibs Ryan as Jake the co-pilot joins them.
The Hunter frowns and then looks at his watch, “Okay. Jake show Ryan the way to the island’s brig; we’ll prepare for departure. And keep your distance from that old fat man… he’s had his eye on you for a long time, Jake.”
Jake swallows hard; his young face turns a crimson color at the disgusting visual that enters his mind, but soldiers up and says, “Sure boss.”
“Ryan, you guys keep your wits about you in the brig… I don’t trust that old man.”
“Oh, I got Jake’s back. I’ll take good care of him,” promises Ryan as he slaps the holstered pistol attached to his security guard’s gun belt.
Ten minutes later Ryan Blake leads a fully costumed and masked Spiderman by the arm at a brisk pace past the plantation brig’s newly refurbished black iron doors. The tall ornate wrought iron doors are flung wide open expecting guests. A slender peasant dressed in white cotton pants and shirt sweeping the brig’s entrance backs nervously away as the strange trio of Gringos enter. The din of the surrounding jungle diminishes as the group steps onto the stone corridor separating a long row of small cells with sturdy black iron bar doors baring nameplates.
Ryan proudly leads, purposely manhandling a spellbound Spiderman roughly by one arm, followed by Jake who is visibly uncomfortable with the surroundings. The trio consisting of a security guard, hapless superhero, and reluctant co-pilot make their way swiftly down the brig’s wide stone corridor towards a potbellied old man standing midway. The old fat pervert is dressed in his usual garish Hawaiian shirt, straw hat, cum stained white pants and dirty loafers. He waits expectantly in front of two open cell doors for his new acquisition.
“Ah… Red… Ryan… come in… sorry I could not meet the plane today,” chirps Bill
Jake fumes at the unsolicited nickname the pervert assigned to him as Ryan stops before Bill. He roughly pushes and centers a dazed Spiderman into a stationary standing position before the Island Boss, announcing grandly, “I present to you your newly purchased property: Spiderman – fresh from the Big Apple!”
Bill licks his lips as he appraises the tall strapping masked superhero dressed in a skintight red and blue webbed spandex costume. Bill looks intently at Spiderman’s young buff body clearly outlined within the body-hugging bright spandex.
Bill has no buyer’s remorse! The old pervert studies the finely built young superhero intently. First the bright webbed mask that provides anonymity to the wearer, then the black spider emblem emblazoned across the athletic chest, then the slight bulge in the spandex between his legs and finally the costume’s matching webbed boots.
Jake looks nervously around at brig’s cells; all have name plates. Jake swallows hard as he reads a few names on the empty cell doors: Green Lantern, Flash, Flex, Captain America and… Pig Boy of San Miguel? The last name is odd thinks Jake, as he looks away and towards the end of the island brig’s corridor past old fat Bill to where he knows the once mighty and magnificent Superman, somehow ever rendered completely powerless, is kept under lock and key!
Jake’s train of thought is broken when suddenly Ryan reaches up from behind and grabs a fistful of the top of Spiderman’s spandex mask and roughly unmasks Spiderman! Ryan immediately presents the mask to Bill like the key to a new luxury car as he makes the introduction, “Peter Parker of the Daily Bugle.” Bill in returns accepts the mask like a key to great city and then crumples it with disdain in his pudgy hand remarking, “Another reporter. Nonetheless another dream comes true… the great Spiderman… standing spellbound in my brig! What a treat!”
Bill observes the unmasked young man’s handsome but boyish face. The removal of the mask reveals that indeed Spiderman is spellbound in a deep trance — his young mind erased of its freewill. His blue eyes dull and glazed over — a telltale sign of the Moro’s spinning rings that Ryan used to ensnare an unsuspecting Spiderman.
Bill remarks, “Why there’s just a boy under that mask… wonderful!” Bill smiles snaps his fat fingers several times before Peter’s glazed over blue eyes several times but Spiderman remains fast in a deep trance. Satisfied Bill waddles backward a step or two to test his ownership, “Take off that ridiculous costume, Parker.”
Ryan still standing behind boldly unzips the webbed red and blue spandex suit down to the small of Parker’s back. Robotically Spiderman twists his upper torso peeling the colorful webbed spandex from his broad shoulders. The black spider emblem peels away from his strapping chest as he fishes his big arms from the costume’s gloved spandex sleeves. Parker automatically slides the tight spandex with fine black webbing down to his athletic waist and then leans forward shedding the webbed bright tight spandex from his upper thighs. In-turn he pulls each foot from each of the costume’s matching webbed boot and then sheds the colorful webbed costume altogether. Clad only the costume’s skimpy bright red jock, Parker robotically tosses his bright costume to floor and straightens up as if to display his buff body to his new owner.
Bill excitedly shoves the colorful mask into the pocket of his cum stained white pants and then uses his free fat hand to fiercely tear and rip the skimpy jock from Parker’s athletic waist; Parker sways swinging in place as the jock is torn away from his hips but maintains his balance, uttering no protest, as the old fat pervert strips him completely naked. Bill’s eyes lock on Parker’s man-jewels as he tosses the torn red jock to the brig’s floor. Immediately the old man uses the wooden whip handle to prod and probe the assets hanging between the young man’s legs. Spiderman remains completely spellbound, his expression blank, as the old man rolls each of Spiderman’s big balls over and over with the whip’s wooden handle.
“Fiend, he’s only a kid,” protests a man’s voice from an adjacent cell!
Bill stops his molestation, but continues to stare at Parker’s boys saying, “I believe you both know Batman,” chuckles Bill as he gestures to the cell with his bullwhip where the protest originated. Jake and Ryan both look towards the cell’s previously unnoticed occupant. Ryan laughs as Jake instinctively whispers the cell’s name plate: Batman! Then Jake gasps as finds proud Batman willingly kneeling in his small cell in submission to the island boss! Yes, the once feared Dark Knight is naked, he is down on both knees, his powerful legs are spread wide apart and his bare strapping chest is outstretched forward with his muscular arms extended straight out over his head, palms down. Batman, once feared by the underworld of Gotham City, is in a position of utter submission to the island’s master that purchased him and his ward Robin! Like a lowly slave worshipping a mighty pharaoh, Batman pays seemingly perpetual homage to the old pervert standing outside his locked cell. Batman’s powerful v-shaped bare back, muscular arms and legs are crisscrossed with both faded and bright red welts… a testament to Bill’s cruelty and liberal use of his trademark bullwhip. Batman’s handsome face is obscured, pressed against the stone floor of his cell forbidden to move until Bill allows it!
Jake can’t help but wonder, how can this be? Is there no possible escape, rescue, for such a mighty man, once more than renowned—even like the captive Superman, further away… unbelievably depowered, driven almost mindless and beyond invulnerable, anymore. A true tragedy! Something is truly wrong about all this. He thinks, at last, he must do something to stop this nightmare, this desecration and destruction of good men, now under the control of pure evil!
Bill chides, “Without the anonymity of a mask, or the concealment of the shadow of darkness, his utility belt with fancy gadgets, and armored bat suit, Bruce Wayne, aka Batman, is but an wimped-down ordinary man. If Gotham City could see their Dark Knight now—groveling on his knees naked, with his impressive cock and balls freewheeling between his spread legs!”
Jake grimaces at the humiliating remarks the obese old man hurls at Batman. Bill glares hatefully down at Batman with distain at the thought of Batman still possessing even a sliver of his former spirit and backbone. He’d thought he had long ago whipped all the Dark Knight’s strength of character away! He commands imperiously while shaking his coiled whip, “Insolent dog! Milk yourself, or I’ll horsewhip your precious ward Robin within an inch of his life before your very eyes!”
Batman’s swallows hard and his big hands clench into big fists and pounds the stone floor hard simultaneously – one time. Seconds later his bared, big chest rises from the floor; he sullenly sits back on his knees and stares angrily at Ryan and Bill. In return, Ryan smirks and blows a kiss to the powerfully built man he was instrumental in capturing. Bruce is seized with repressed anger at Ryan Blake, as an unnoticed Boy Wonder cowers deeper into the corner of his own cell next door, trying to stay out of the fray.
Ryan takes a step forward and boldly shouts tapping his nightstick menacingly, “You heard your master… OBEY!” Bruce’s face turns beet red with humiliation, but he slowly unclenches his right fist. Batman swallows hard and then lowers his eyes downcast to the stone floor. He sighs heavily and then cuffs his cock in his big hand. Unseen tears well up in his eyes as he obeys and starts stroking his limp-heavy meat into life for the pleasure of his master!
Ryan laughs smugly aloud as Batman starts to stroke his finely proud cock for all to see. Jake sighs uncomfortably at the debauchery that is transpiring, and looks awkwardly towards the brig’s floor, proposing, “Come on Ryan…we delivered Spiderman…the Hunter wants wheels up ASAP,” reminds Jake.
“Hold on dude… I want to see Batman shoot…” insists Ryan;
Bill cuts across Ryan and gestures to the cell opposite Batman, “I believe you both are acquainted with Robin, the impressive, young, playful stud-muffin once known as “Boy Wonder” around town in Gotham City.
Jake is silent and continues to look at the floor as Ryan smiles and greets his old boyfriend flippantly, “Hey Dick. What’s up, dude?” His callousness is worse than shocking; how he could have done what he did, once his bedmate… turned instrument of destruction for both parties of the Dynamic Duo—and all so much easier than grease on a hot skillet.
Robin is naked, too -– unmasked, his handsome face revealed — balled up in a fetal position, cringing in fear in one of the corners of his cell. Robin looks shell-shocked. His once bright blue eyes are vacant and devoid of any happiness. His powerful arms with bulging biceps, chest and muscular legs are covered in a fine shine of sweat. Beads of sweat dot his attractive face and his short-cropped hair is matted down with perspiration.
“Spoiled little rich brat,” sneers Bill as moves and brushes the bars of Robin’s cell with his coiled whip. “You’re not such a big shot anymore, are you muscle fuck. No mask to hide behind, hey, boy?”
Robin’s body shakes with fear in response but he does not answer his master; he only stares at the stone blocks of his cell wall, wearing a blank-cringed expression.
“Bah… sniveling brat,” shouts Bill at Robin, before he turns away from Robin and levels his gaze back towards Batman’s cell opposite of Robin’s. Bill continues his rant as Batman stokes his stiffened sizeable male rod. “Thanks to Robin’s sexual orientation, it was easy to bring down the big bad Bat man! As I imagined, Batman is very protective of his handsomely desirable young male ward… the Boy Wonder. Thus, as you can see, I can force Batman to do anything, anything… I want. As he has, and will continue to!”
Bill kicks the discarded torn red jock he ripped from Parker’s waist through the iron bars of Batman’s cell saying, “Use the superheroes’ jock to clean your mess up when you’re done… and then stick the soiled jock into your big mouth. That will keep you quiet for the time being.”
Batman’s body shakes, grimacing with barely controlled, pent-up anger, but he remains silent and continues to diligently stroke his fully masterful cock. (One he actually had craved to spear Robin with eventually, hardly admitting such to himself, not sure of Robin’s true nature, until too late. And now urgent to spare his still craved-for, never indulged-with, young paramour any cruelty whatsoever… at his own expense).
But having dealt with Batman’s pointless protest, Bill turns from Batman feigning disappointment. “Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted… ah yes,” remembers Bill, as he returns to fondling Parker with the handle of his whip.
“You’ll feel the sting of my bullwhip soon spider boy…the price you pay here for parading around in tight bright spandex, flaunting your “capabilities,”” promises the old fat man.
Jake shifts restlessly from boot to boot as Bill leers at Parker’s nicely also bared muscly chest, abs, and arms intently. Then Bill begins rubbing the whips handle the length of Spiderman’s cock several times until it twitches and stirs slightly. “Yes… a fine piece of virgin muscle meat,” whispers Bill hotly, beginning to use the handle of his coiled bullwhip to trace the outline of Parker’s defined six pack abs, amply curved pectoral muscles, hard-dotted by a pair of eraser-fine nipples, before proceeding to the twin biceps. “But, this young sweet morsel will have to keep until later. I have another iron in the fire to attend to.”
With that said, Bill finishes his cursory inspection of Spiderman and decides to put his new boy away; he toddles behind Parker, breathing hard at the exertion, his gross pot belly jiggling. The old fat man rubs and then cups his fat hand around Parker’s firm bare buttocks several times testing each cheek’s solidness. Then Bill uses the handle of his bullwhip to prod Parker in the small of his bare back, signaling the spellbound superhero to enter his cell adjacent to Robin’s. Bill drags the whip’s wooded handle playfully between Peter parker’s moving taut butt cheeks several times as the young man walks slowly, probing the divide. “It looks like Spiderman won’t give me much trouble,” chuckles Bill as he withdraws the whip handle and slams the cell door shut exclaiming, “Cheers to Moro, and his effective island magic!”
Then he waddles around in place. “Pedro! Andale – Arriba… take this garish red and blue spider costume along with the boots and mask to the storage room with the others,” demands Bill. “The young man will have no need for that spandex junk anymore.”
“Si Senior,” answers a young man in broken English as he drops his broom. A tanned, slender young man in white pants, shirt and sandals scurries about picking up Spiderman’s bright red and blue costume-suit, webbed boots… and in an instant is quickly gone.
Bill smiles as he eyes up Parker through the iron bars of his cell. Like a book in its proper position on a shelf, Parker stands prime-naked in his imprisonment. His good-looker’s head is slumped forward on his chest, and his toned muscular arms still ripe with spider-strength hang harmlessly at his sides. Parker is a 10. A seven-plus soft cock and two beefy balls, set above a set of long sturdy legs that rise to a powerful athletic chest, with perfectly proportioned muscles…and the young man is drop-dead handsome, too! Bill adjusts his stiffening hard-on below under his gross potbelly as he contemplates the fate of young Spiderman, now that he is part of his erotic menagerie of subjugated superheroes. Though the nearby Jake is even as much or more alluring in true reality, standing less than a stone’s throw away. Bill grins at the prospect.
“Spiderman… Peter… is incredibly strong… his tensile strength is intact… handsome, too… but his young mind is erased of freewill and spirit—what a combination!”
“Let’s go,” announces the unsettled Jake, having seen enough of the brig’s debauchery.
“Ah, Red… I’d almost forgotten… well… not really,” announces Bill.
Suddenly Bill’s attention turns uncomfortably towards Jake! Red or Jake is a 10, too. Actually a 12. He’s part of the Hunter’s crew. Jake is in his mid-twenties and has short-cropped red hair, green eyes, and a fair complexion. He’s over 6 feet tall and has a big athletic frame beneath the light blue nylon flight suit he wears. He’s got a boyish face mixed with the Irish good looks, and sports a Buffalo Bill’s ball cap. (Part of his adopted, “manly” costume, one could suppose… as necessary as a 24-inch cock on any man. Truth be told, thinks Bill. Like spandex on heroes.)
Jake looks around uncomfortably at the enslaved crime fighters, then answers with a tinge of annoyance, “The name is Jake.”
“Not anymore! Ryan… it’s time now to get started with young Red’s transition into the Pig Boy of San Miguel,” decides Bill.
Ryan, having prepared for the betrayal, moving behind the worse than suddenly startled Jake, draws a revolver from his gun belt and drives it into the small of Jake’s back, apologizing, “Sorry, dude… but I am going to need your flight suit.”
To be continued…