Tarzan – Deposed Jungle Lord Book V Part 65 (2)
Jake turns, and cry-shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK…??!!”
Bill cuttingly adds, “I’m afraid Ryan has betrayed you… just like he did young Dick Grayson, aka Robin, over there.”
Jake turns, and cry-shouts, “WHAT THE FUCK…??!!”
Bill cuttingly adds, “I’m afraid Ryan has betrayed you… just like he did young Dick Grayson, aka Robin, over there.”
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.
Dar’s muscles flex and ripple as he sprints down the narrow island path to Moro’s jungle abode. Tao did not return, and the sun will soon set. His rugged brow and square jaw is set with effort as he quickly yet cautiously makes his way toward the domain of Moro, a strange old island witchdoctor.
It is midnight in Manhattan. A tower clock in the distance begins chiming the hour above the din of the sprawling city far below. Peter Parker, aka Spider-man, hides in the shadows unnoticed. The moon is full and the illumination gives the superhero an unobstructed view of the vacant rooftop of One New York Plaza.
The Hunter and company have departed for NYC to capture Spider-man, who is destined to become the 6th unwilling member of Bill’s Martin’s twisted, pervertedly abused menagerie of captive heroes, which he keeps on his private island of San Miguel. Bill ends a call and tosses his cell onto the wrought-iron table under the shade of the large, white cotton tarp which provides shade from the blazing tropical sun. His chair creaks under his prodigious weight as the old man leans back and gazes out into his brig’s sun-drenched punishment yard.
It is early afternoon on the Caribbean island of San Miguel; the contractor who can acquire rare merchandise, be it a precious stone or gem – even famous crime fighters, known simply as the “Hunter” has arrived on the secluded island. The Hunter has delivered his latest two acquisitions to Bill Martin the eccentric billionaire with a perverted and twisted taste for young men of notability.
Flash had finally finished suiting up, wondering if something was wrong with his arachnid hero friend. “Where is Spidey? Usually if he sent me something like this, he’d be over to check it out in a second,” thought the Scarlet Speedster as he continued to admire himself in the new webby, body-sock suit that Spidey had made for him.
A weakened Spider-man was moving in and out of consciousness. His “suiting” at the hands of Ivan and Dmitry had left him aroused, humiliated and utterly defeated. Desperate to escape he tried to muster enough strength to fight the thugs but the latest dose of Wasp venom was too much for him.
Spidey screamed in agony as he felt the web fluid blasting from his manhole. The rawness of his anus unbearable, as the cum loads of Dmitry and Ivan mixed with his own web fluid to push lines of webbing out his of abused butthole. The force of the web flow wracked his weakened hero body with pain, yet kept him in a semi-aroused state.
Spidey lie there on the table his anal pussy still spasming after shooting that web load. The depleted hero felt like he had just taken the biggest dump of his life. His ass wet and dripping yet his rock-hard cock still lifting him up off the surgical table. He looked like a human tripod.
Spidey moaned as his cocooned body hit the floor of the truck. His boned cock was pressed to his rock-hard abs that he had just covered with a load of his young man cream. His masked face in the cocoon was making him sweaty and, it was difficult for him to breathe. Even more troublesome for the hero was that his arms had been cocoon-webbed to the front of his body so that they were pinned to his manhood.
Spidey/Peter panicked as he saw his aunt wilt to the floor. His dick rock hard, and his hand eagerly jerking, his head spun and he lost concentration. In that split second his anal muscles relaxed and his asshole lost grip of the dildo. He collapsed to the floor in a thud.
Spidey awoke from the wild sex scene on the roof top.His ass still spasming, it suddenly felt cool. A wind was blowing and the hero was trying to get his bearings.He looked around the rooftop asking himselfwhere was the Wasp? Had he left him here without finishing him off?
Spidey lay there tormented. His hot, horny hero hole now filled with two of the Wasp’s lycra-covered fingers. He felt them filling up his fairly-tight butthole, while enjoying the arousal the feeling of the fabric caused as the villain worked his Spidey hole open. Spidey groaned as he felt the Wasp’s fat digits spread apart his asshole.
Spidey looked up groggily wondering what had happened to him. His back ached and his muscles felt sore. But at the same time he was aware of the tight sheerness all over his body. The snugness of the weblon body sock was massaging and hugging every inch of his sinewy frame. The only remnant of his suit he could feel was his mask.
Peter Parker hadn’t slept well in weeks. He was constantly tormented by dreams of his last and almost total defeat by a new villain called the Wasp. Once again Pete (aka Spidey) had failed to keep his arousal in his lycra under control and he let the hot body and outline of the villain’s fat cockhead in the tights get the best of him.