Disclaimer:
I do not own Tarzan or related characters and am not making a profit from sharing this story here. The character was created by Edgar Rice Burroughs and is now in the public domain. Any similarity between the characters in this story and real people is entirely coincidental and incredibly hot. The story is my intellectual property and is (c) to tarzanstud1@gmail.com.
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Chapter 1: Tarzan, King of the Jungle
In the heart of the untamed wilderness, where the verdant canopy stretched as far as the eye could see, there roamed a figure that commanded the very essence of the jungle. His name was a whispered legend among villagers, slavers, poachers, scientists, and natives alike. Tarzan, they called him. A name synonymous with power, with dominion over both the wild and the savage.
Tarzan's form was a sight to behold, an epitome of primal strength and virility. His sinewy muscles rippled beneath his sun-kissed skin, glistening with the sheen of sweat and jungle humidity. But it was the attire that demanded attention--a loincloth that clung to his lithe frame, leaving little to the imagination. Skimpy, yes, but for Tarzan, it was a symbol of freedom, a reminder of the untamed spirit that coursed through his veins.
To the uninitiated, Tarzan's attire might lead them to believe him a slave, a mere plaything of the jungle. Yet, those who dared to cross him soon learned that he was no captive. Tarzan was the mightiest warrior ever known to the jungle, the undisputed king of all men and beasts.
The villagers spoke of him with reverence, their voices hushed in awe and respect.
"Tarzan, he is the guardian of our lands," they would say, their eyes glinting with admiration. "He keeps us safe, ensuring that the balance of nature remains unbroken."
For the slavers, Tarzan was a prize that promised unimaginable wealth, a creature to be captured and put on display.
"A wild man, they call him," they murmured, greed burning in their eyes. "Imagine the riches that would come from such a rare specimen."
Poachers, their hearts filled with arrogance and cruelty, viewed Tarzan with disdain. "He thinks himself above us," they scoffed, oblivious to the irony. "But we'll show him where his place truly lies."
Scientists, driven by a thirst for knowledge, regarded Tarzan as an enigma, a subject of endless fascination.
"An undiscovered species, perhaps," they mused, their minds racing with theories and hypotheses. "He could hold the key to unlocking the secrets of the jungle."
Natives, who had long coexisted with the rhythms of the jungle, regarded Tarzan with a mixture of respect and wariness.
"He is a force of nature," they acknowledged, their voices tinged with a hint of caution. "Best not to cross paths with the jungle's chosen."
And then there were those who dared to underestimate Tarzan, believing him to be nothing more than a feral creature.
"He needs to be tamed," they proclaimed, their arrogance masking their ignorance. "A bit of discipline, and he'll learn his place."
But Tarzan, with his cocky attitude and unyielding spirit, paid little heed to the opinions of others. He knew his worth, his place in the intricate dance of the jungle. He was the king, the ruler, and no one could challenge his dominion.
With each confident stride through the verdant underbrush, Tarzan left an indelible mark on the jungle, a living symbol of the untamed spirit that dwelled within him. He was Tarzan, the mightiest of them all, and his legend would echo through the ages, a testament to the true king of the jungle.
END OF CHAPTER ONE -----------------------------------------------
Thanks again for your emails! This is the first in a very long tarzan story. I can forewarn you, graphic sex is not the focus so much as good storytelling with the mighty hero of the jungle experiencing things he never has before. It's definitely racy, and always hot to me, but if you need endless graphic sex, this may not be your ideal. If you have any feedback or input, please contact me at tarzanstud1@gmail.com.