TARZANN -Slave of Dr. Mamba-03

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TARZANN -Slave of Dr. Mamba-03

Postby mitru » November 30th, 2025, 2:44 am

The humid air, thick with the metallic tang of chemical vapors, clung to the masked worker’s skin, a constant, cloying presence within the ancient baobab’s hollowed core. Bioluminescent veins pulsed a soft, green light along the carved walls, illuminating the narrow corridor. Footfalls, muted by the damp earth, echoed with the rhythmic murmur of unseen machinery. Each breath pulled in the jungle’s heavy perfume, now tainted by something synthetic, something cold.

“She’s heavier than she looks. That strength… even unconscious, it’s like carrying a sedated panther.”

“Dr. Mamba said not to damage her. She’s the key.”
They navigated the winding passages, the air growing warmer, the hum of machinery intensifying. A faint, crimson glow bled from an opening ahead, painting the bioluminescent walls in shifting hues of violet and rose. The scent of ozone joined the chemical exhalations, a sharp, electric tang that prickled the nostrils.

They emerged into a vast, cavernous chamber, its walls pulsating with a deep, ruby light. In the center, a raised platform gleamed, surrounded by an array of consoles and intricate machinery. Dr. Mamba stood there, a silhouette against the glowing heart of the room. Her black tunic, woven with iridescent threads that mimicked snake scales, shimmered with every subtle movement. Her dark skin, smooth and unblemished, caught the red light, giving her an almost infernal glow. Her gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the approaching unconscious form.

“Lay her down. Gently. She is not prey… yet.” Dr. Mamba’s voice, a low, resonant purr, commanded the space.

The masked men stepped back, their forms receding into the shadows at the chamber’s edge. Dr. Mamba approached the slab, her eyes tracing the unconscious woman’s form. Tarzann’s limbs lay splayed, an echo of her earlier struggle. Dr. Mamba’s fingers, long and slender, danced across a tablet console, the touch almost a caress. With a soft hiss of hydraulics, metallic shackles rose from the slab, snapping around Tarzann’s wrists and ankles. They pulled her limbs taut, spreading her wide, exposing her completely to the red light. Her athletic body was stretched, vulnerable, her breasts pushed high, her hips splayed open, revealing the dark tangle of hair between her thighs.

“The jungle gave her power. I will take it. Strip it from her cell by cell… until she remembers who truly rules this land.” Dr. Mamba’s voice deepened, a note of triumph resonating within the chamber.


CLICK HERE to read TARZANN -Slave of Dr. Mamba-03:http://www.mccomix.com/members/gallery3/index.php/Mitru/Tarzann/Slave-of-Dr-Mamba

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mitru
 
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