Scene: “Mist on the Canopy” – Loango National Park
Setting: The emerald canopy of Loango shimmers in the late afternoon light. Vines sway gently in the breeze. Birds scatter as a shadow streaks overhead.
Action:

Tarzann swings from a thick vine, her body taut with motion. Her creamy, muscular frame glistens with sweat and sunlight. Her leopard-print bikini clings to her as she arcs through the air, every muscle alive with purpose. Her huge firm creamy breasts threaten to slip out from her tight leopard print bra...her leopard print panty narrows between her huge creamy thighs and into the crack between the cheeks of her huge firm creamy ass.

Her bare feet—calloused from years of jungle terrain—grip the vine with instinctive precision. The short, glossy nails on her toes catch the light as they curl with tension. She lands on a mossy branch, crouched, alert.


She throws back her head and unleashes her cry:

“Aaaa-AHHHHH-aaaaaa!”

It echoes through the trees, a primal call that sends monkeys chattering and poachers


(Tarzann, low and fierce, scanning the horizon)

Tarzann: “They think the jungle sleeps. But it watches. And it remembers.”

She sniffs the air—something’s wrong. A faint shimmer drifts through the trees. Mist. Not natural.
Tarzann (to herself):

“Dr. Mamba’s poison… it’s here.”

She leaps again, faster now, her superhuman speed slicing through the canopy. Below, a masked figure activates a canister. The mist rises.

Tarzann (mid-swing, voice rising):

“You’ll never tame this wild!”

Scene: “Fall of the Jungle Queen” – Loango National Park

Setting: The jungle canopy, once alive with birdsong and sunlight, is now cloaked in a thick, unnatural mist. Vines sway in eerie silence. The air is heavy, shimmering with chemical haze.

Action:

Tarzann swings through the fog, her breath quickening. Her muscles, once taut and powerful, begin to falter. Her creamy skin glistens with sweat as the mist clings to her. Her blue eyes—sharp and wild—start to dull, the pupils losing focus.
Sound:

A voice slithers through the mist, amplified by hidden speakers.
Voice (Dr. Mamba):

“Sleep now, jungle queen. Let the mist cradle you.”

Tarzann (slurred, defiant):

“No… I… protect…”

Her eyelids flutter. Her grip loosens. Her bare feet—calloused and strong—twitch frantically on the vine. Her toes curl, tense… then slowly relax. Her body sways.

Tarzann (whispering):

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh…”

She plummets.

Impact:

Branches snap. Leaves scatter. She crashes to the jungle floor, a hundred feet below, her body limp. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths.

From the mist, masked figures emerge. One kneels beside her, pressing a cloth soaked in chloroform to her face.

Another pulls down her leopard print bra...squeezes and rotates her big puffy glossy pink nipples 360 degrees clockwise...making her lactate freely...geysers of white milk shooting into the air.

Another removes her leopard print panty and probes her in her big glossy pink clitoris in the middle of her thick matted blonde pubic bush.

Tarzann: "NO...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
....HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...HH...HH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
...HH...HH...HH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...HH...HH...HH...HH...HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

She has a sequence of three gigantic orgasms and powerfully lactates simultaneously.

Her eyelids flutter weakly. Her toes flex, tense… then relax again. Her fingers twitch once. Her breath slows.

Tarzann: "Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...orgasms....make me weak...Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...have to breathe the chloroform
...it makes me...hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...hot...hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...horny...hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...helpless...got....to...sleep"

Her blue eyes glaze over. Darkness takes her.

Voice (Dr. Mamba) (softly, triumphantly):

“The jungle sleeps. And now, so does its queen.”

Scene: “The Serpent’s Lair” – Deep Jungle Compound

Setting:

A hidden facility carved into the roots of an ancient baobab tree. Vines coil like serpents around steel beams. Bioluminescent fungi glow along the walls. The air is humid, pulsing with the low hum of machines and the hiss of chemical vapors.

Action:
Tarzann’s unconscious body is carried by two masked operatives. Her limbs hang limp, her creamy bare feet trailing across the mossy floor. Her skin is streaked with dirt and mist residue. She has been stripped of her tight leopard print bra and tight leopard print panty...her curvaceous and muscular creamy body on full display....her naked huge firm creamy breasts sway freely....wide hard glossy pink areolas and big puffy hard and erect glossy pin nipples at their sexy summits. Her big glossy pink clitoris is wet and excited...throbbing in the middle of her thick matted blonde pubic bush.

Operative #1 (whispering):
“She’s heavier than she looks. That strength… even unconscious, it’s like carrying a panther sedated.”
Operative #2 (nervous):
“Dr. Mamba said not to damage her. She’s the key.”
They enter a chamber lit by green phosphorescent tubes. At its center stands Dr. Mamba, tall, lean, draped in a robe patterned like snake scales. Her eyes gleam behind gold-rimmed glasses. A serpent coils lazily around her arm.
Dr. Mamba (coldly amused):
“Lay her down. Gently. She is not prey… yet.”
Tarzann is placed on a stone slab lined with soft jungle pelts. Her head lolls to the side. Her breathing is shallow. Her toes flex once, then fall still.
Dr. Mamba (to herself):
“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 (softly):
“Still fighting, even in sleep. How delicious.”
He turns to a console, activating a scanner that begins to pulse over her body, mapping her DNA, her muscle density, her neural patterns.
Operative #1 (watching nervously):
“What if she wakes?”
Dr. Mamba (smiling):
“She will. And when she does… she will be mine.”

Mist of Submission” – Dr. Mamba’s Jungle Lab
Setting:

The heart of Dr. Mamba’s compound. The chamber is dim, lit by flickering green lights and the rhythmic pulse of machines. Vines press against the glass walls, as if the jungle itself watches helplessly.

Action:

Tarzann lies bound to a steel slab. Her wrists are shackled with vine-wrapped cuffs, her bare calloused feet secured with reinforced jungle cord. Her body, though powerful, is limp—her muscles twitching faintly beneath her skin. A sleek gas mask is strapped tightly over her face, connected to a tube that hisses with vapor.

Sound:

Sound:
The hiss grows louder. A sweet, musky scent fills the air—mind-altering jungle extract engineered by Dr. Mamba himself.

Tarzann (muffled through mask):
“Uhhhnn… no…”
She writhes, her toes flexing against the restraints. Her breathing quickens. Her blue eyes dart beneath heavy lids, struggling to stay alert.

Dr. Mamba (watching from above):

“Breathe deep, jungle queen. Let the mist rewrite your soul.”
Visuals:
The vapors swirl around her face. Her eyelids flutter. Her pupils dilate. Her once fierce gaze turns glassy, unfocused. Her lips part slightly beneath the mask.

Tarzann (softly, dazed):

“I… protect… jungle…”

Dr. Mamba (leaning close):

“No. You serve me now.”

Tarzann’s Struggle:

Her fingers twitch. Her toes curl, tense… then slowly relax. Her breath slows. Her body sinks deeper into the slab.

Tarzann (voice distant, entranced):

“I… am… your slave…”

Dr. Mamba (smiling):

“Say it again.”


Tarzann (obedient, glazed):
“I am the slave of Dr. Mamba…”

Final Moment:

Her blue eyes stare blankly through the mask. The jungle’s protector has fallen—her mind clouded, her will bent.

Dr. Mamba (to her operatives):

“Begin phase two. The jungle will kneel.”

Scene: “Queen of the Jungle… No More” – A Series of Controlled Missions

Setting:

The jungle is no longer safe. Villagers whisper of a shadow moving through the trees—once a savior, now a specter of fear. Under Dr. Mamba’s control, Tarzann is unleashed.

Mission 1: The Burning Grove
Visuals:

Tarzann, clad in a darkened version of her jungle garb—black vines, serpent-scale armor—leaps from the canopy. Her eyes are glazed, her movements precise but soulless.

She lands near a sacred grove, home to rare medicinal plants. Without hesitation, she hurls incendiary pods into the underbrush.
Villager (shouting):

“Tarzann! No! That grove heals our children!”

Tarzann (coldly):
“Dr. Mamba commands. The jungle obeys.”

Flames erupt. Her bare feet crunch over burning leaves. Her toes flex, but there’s no hesitation. Only obedience.

Mission 2: Poisoning the River

Setting:

A sacred waterfall, source of clean water for five villages.

Action:
Tarzann pours a vial of glowing toxin into the stream. Fish float lifeless. Birds scatter.
Her hands tremble slightly. Her toes curl against the wet stone. A flicker of hesitation.

Tarzann (whispering):

“This… feels wrong…”
Dr. Mamba (through earpiece):
“Do not think. Only serve.”
Her eyes glaze again. She walks away, leaving devastation behind.

Interlude: Cracks in the Mask
Later, alone in her chamber, Tarzann stares at her reflection in a pool. Her blue eyes flicker. A tear rolls down her cheek.
Tarzann (softly):
“I… was the jungle…”
Her fingers twitch. Her breath catches. The mist no longer feels comforting—it feels like chains

The Raid” – Mission of Sister Miriam Duval
Setting:

A quiet clearing deep in Loango. The mission is a modest structure built from reclaimed wood and jungle stone, surrounded by medicinal gardens and prayer flags. Inside, Sister Duval tends to wounded villagers. Outside, the jungle rustles unnaturally.

Action:
Tarzann emerges from the mist, her silhouette framed by moonlight. Her eyes are glazed, her movements precise. She wears her dark jungle armor, and her bare feet pad silently across the earth.

Sister Duval (stepping outside, calm but firm):
“Tarzann. You don’t belong to him.”
Tarzann (coldly):
“I belong to the jungle. And the jungle belongs to Dr. Mamba.”
She raises a vine whip, ready to strike. But from the shadows, Inspector Alain M’Boko steps forward, holding a cloth soaked in chloroform.
M’Boko (softly):
“I’m sorry, my friend.”
He lunges, pressing the cloth to her face. Tarzann thrashes—her strength is immense—but her mind is clouded. Her toes dig into the soil, flexing, curling, then relaxing as the vapors take hold.
Tarzann (muffled, struggling):
“No… Alain… I… protect…”
Her eyelids flutter. Her blue eyes lose focus. Her body sways.
Sister Duval (rushing forward):
“Hold her gently! She’s not the enemy—she’s the victim.”
M’Boko (gritting his teeth):
“She nearly burned the mission. But she’s still in there. I know it.”
Final Moment:
Tarzann collapses into M’Boko’s arms, unconscious. Her breath is shallow. Her bare feet twitch once, then fall still.

Sister Duval (placing a hand on her forehead):
“We must cleanse her mind. Before the jungle loses her forever.”

Scene: “The Unbinding” – Midnight Ritual at the Mission
Setting:
Inside the mission’s sacred chamber, lit by oil lamps and moonlight filtering through carved wooden slats. Incense curls in the air. Symbols of Loango’s ancestral spirits—Nkondi figures, river stones, feathers—are arranged in a circle. Sister Duval wears ceremonial robes: indigo and gold, with a sash of jungle vines.
Tarzann lies unconscious on a woven mat, her nked voluptuous and muscular creamy body twitching as if caught between worlds. Her jungle armor has been removed.

The Ritual Begins
Sister Duval (chanting softly):
“Nzambi, spirit of the river and sky, hear me. This child was taken by force. Her soul is tangled in vines not of her choosing.”
She dips her fingers into a bowl of river water mixed with crushed kola nut and ash. She paints symbols on Tarzann’s forehead, chest, and feet.
Elders (chanting):
“Bika! Bika! Release her! Let the jungle speak truth again!”
Tarzann’s body arches. Her eyes flutter open—glowing faintly green. She speaks in a voice not her own:
Tarzann (possessed):
“I am the jungle. I serve the master. I burn the weak.”
Sister Duval (firmly):
“No. You are Tarzann. Daughter of the wild. Protector of the lost. You were not born to serve. You were born to choose.”
She places a carved Nkondi figure on Tarzann’s chest—a warrior woman with a broken spear. Tarzann gasps. Her limbs tremble.

Flashback Vision (in Tarzann’s mind):
She sees herself as a child, running barefoot through the jungle, laughing. Her mother’s voice calls her name. Then—Dr. Mamba’s lab. The injections. The pain. The silence.
Tarzann (whispers):
“I remember…”
Sister Duval (tears in her eyes):
“Come back to us, child. Come back to yourself.”
She breaks a kola nut in half and places it in Tarzann’s mouth. The elders chant louder. The wind howls. The lamps flicker.
Suddenly—Tarzann screams. A primal, guttural cry. Her body convulses. Then stillness.
Inspector M’Boko (rushing forward):
“Is she—?”

Tarzann (opening her eyes, voice clear):
“I am Tarzann. And I will bring Dr Mamba to justice.”

The Reckoning” – Deep Jungle Fortress of Dr. Mamba
Setting:
A hidden fortress carved into the roots of an ancient baobab tree. Machinery hums beneath vines. Test tubes glow with bioluminescent serum. Cages hold mutated jungle beasts. The air is thick with heat and dread.
Tarzann enters, barefoot, wearing her leopard print bra and panty again. Her eyes burn with clarity.
Dr. Mamba stands at the heart of the lab, surrounded by his creations—half-human sentinels, vines wired with electrodes, syringes filled with mind-control serum.
She leaps—fluid, feral. Her fists and bare calloused creamy feet strike, slicing through machinery. Sparks fly. Mamba’s sentinels charge, but Tarzann moves like wind through leaves. She uses vines as weapons, roots as shields.
Fight Highlights:
•     She swings from the rafters, kicking down a mutant jaguar.
•     She crushes a serum vial underfoot, letting its poison seep into the soil.
•     She wraps her whip around Mamba’s wrist, yanking him into a pool of his own chemicals.
Dr. Mamba (struggling):

“You can’t kill me. I am evolution!”
Tarzann (whispers):
“You are extinction.”
She plunges a ceremonial dagger—blessed by Sister Duval—into the control panel. The lab explodes in green fire. Vines erupt, reclaiming the fortress. Mamba screams as the jungle swallows her whole.
Aftermath
Tarzann stands in the ruins, breathing hard. Rain begins to fall. The jungle is quiet—watching, grateful.
Inspector M’Boko (arriving):
“It’s over?”
Tarzann (nodding):
“For him. But not for the jungle. I’ll protect it. Always.”
She walks barefoot into the trees, disappearing into mist. A protector reborn.

end