Simba, the young and boisterous lion prince was not happy, and his expression sold it one hundred percent. His father had brought in a zebra to feast on earlier in the day, but he didn’t get enough to eat, nor would he have much time to play today, having to go back and continue his training to become king.


For most of the day, he’d been slowly walking throughout Pride Lands, looking for something, anything to take his anger off on. I am the prince after all, Simba thought, looking for a stray gazelle or something similar to eat, They all need to know I’m going to be King one day. But sadly for Simba, he’d been unlucky in his hunt, turning an awful day even worse. Realizing how far out he was from Pride Rock and how tired he had become, he decided to take a quick nap, sheltering in a nearby cave. Maybe he’d be able to do one thing he wanted today. After snooping around the area, he deemed it to be safe and sat down, wallowing in his own self-pity before closing his eyes and falling soundly asleep.


His dreams were weird, he was facing his father Mufasa, and was being scolded for something he had no memory of. The words that came out of the adult lion's mouth were incomprehensible too. They seemed like they came out from a distance away, and only as the dream progressed, they became easier to hear.


Weirdly enough, it wasn’t his father’s voice. It was higher pitched and familiar, but annoying too. He now realized all Mufasa was saying was, “Simbaaaa!” over and over again, coming in and out of focus.


The scene perplexed the young cub, trying unsuccessfully to get his father’s attention. It wasn’t until later that the voice said something else. “Oh there you are, young master!” the voice coming from his father yelled, “Wake up! You’re sleeping on the job and need to get back to your father! Your training starts in an hour!”


Hearing the word ‘training’ snapped the young lion back to reality, waking him from his deep sleep. How long was I out… Simba thought, shaking his head and looking around, fixing his dazed vision. Looking forward, he saw a pair of orange talons, leading up to a familiar white underbelly. “Ugh… Zazu…” the cub groaned, rolling over to his side “Just give me five more minutes.”


The annoyed bird tapped the boy with his wing, “Don’t you have the slightest idea on how late it is and how far away you are?” Zazu asked, puffing his chest at the ludicrous request. “You may only be a ten minute walk away, but you have to prepare! Wake up, stretch, all sorts of- Omph!!”


Simba batted the little hornbill away, “I said five minutes.” he repeated, grunting and rolling over once more, staring Zazu in the eyes. “I’ll get up after that, don’t rush me.”


Brushing himself off, Zazu’s expression turned from one of annoyance to pure anger. “Why, I never met such an insolent little br-”, realizing who he was talking to, Zazu stopped the tirade for a second, rethinking his approach. “Just wait until your father hears about this young man. Attacking one of his top royal advisers and ignoring a specific request from the king. You’ll be in big trouble!” The bird knew he couldn’t do anything to convince Simba, but invoking Mufasa’s name did much to jumpstart the cub.


Crankily, Simba made his way up, still half asleep and angry his nap was interrupted. He knew Mufasa was not happy with him, and he didn’t want to make his father any angrier. “Wait…” the cub said, seeing Zazu get ready to fly away. “I’m up, I’m up. No need to tell my dad, no need to get me into any more trouble I’m already in. I’ll follow you to Pride Rock.”


“Hmph. Well, if you didn’t need me to force you up young master, then we would already be on our way.” He looked around and grunted again, annoyed at the situation. “We have to make up time somewhere, how about you do your stretches now Simba, lets get them over with so you can report to Mufasa right away.”


Simba felt a familiar sensation, his empty light yellow stomach growling and begging for a meal. “Can we just do that when we get back? I’m hungry.” He said, pouting and whining to the bird.


“We are already so far behind schedule, and time is of the essence Simba!” Zazu said, exasperated from having to explain this over and over again. “I’ve been having to do this more and more you know? And having to cover for each of your tardiness bouts for your father is putting me in quite the pickle. I might just have to-”


The cub zoned out, daydreaming about lying back down and ignoring the annoying little hornbill’s orders. His little stomach rumbled again, and he started to think of something else, he could kill two birds with one stone, per se. Shutting Zazu up by stuffing him in his mouth and eating him right there. He licked his lips at the thought, and the fantasized feeling of having a full stomach made him even hungrier.


Suddenly, Simba snapped out of his stupor again. “Are you even listening to me?” Zazu yelled, getting right into the prince’s face. “You’re impossible! You are lazy, you don’t listen to orders, and you blatantly disrespect me. Everything you’re doing is very unbecoming of a future king.” The bird took a few steps back, turning away from Simba and stretching his wings out. “Nope, that's the final straw.” he continued, getting ready for flight, “Sleep all you want Simba, your father will hear about this.”


“N-no!” Simba yelled, running forward and pouncing on the bird, “Y-you can’t. I mean, I’ll do everything you asked, I’ll stretch right now!”


The hornbill was wheezing under the additional weight on his back; the air knocked out of his lungs when Simba pounced on him. “Get… off… of… me!” He yelled, “Once Mufasa is given word of your unprovoked attack, you will be disciplined young man!”


The young cub looked back and forth, seeing no escape other than to let the bird go. But, just as he sighed, he felt a pain in his empty stomach, and another deafening grumble from within. He was hungry and he needed to find a meal quickly. His problems only seemed to be stacking up now, until an idea came to mind. He stared down at the prone and struggling bird, annoying yapping like he always did, and he decided on what would be his ultimate fate. His heart started beating like crazy, having and wielding this kind of power. I’ve never eaten live prey before. He thought, seeing Zazu struggle and squirm under his powerful grip. Well… I guess here goes nothing.


Zazu should’ve noticed something was wrong when the cub stopped talking to him, and he really should’ve fought harder when he felt the prince’s stomach rumble above him. However, it was only when he felt a warm, wet breath touch the back of his skull he knew something was wrong. But he did not understand how wrong things were about to go. It wasn’t until he turned his head to look at the boy and seeing his opened maw descending towards him, that he panicked. “No, no, please wait!” He yelled, the warmth coming from the cub’s mouth getting hotter and hotter. “We can- we can work this out!”


But Simba couldn’t, he was scared and hungry and eating that stupid little bird was the only way out of both situations. He quickly licked at the back of Zazu’s head, his little feathers tickling the boy’s tongue. He couldn’t believe the taste he was experiencing. It could’ve been his hunger, his fear, his adrenaline, or a mixture of all three that made it taste so good, but he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this sooner. The bird’s salty sweat only complimented his taste and only sealed his fate further.


Zazu wasn’t about to give up, “I won’t tell Mufasa I swear!” he said, wiggling his body and trying to escape the boy’s claws. Simba however, didn’t look like he would stop, and he realized he had to pick a different tone. “I am the royal advisor to the King, your father, Mufasa! If he finds out that you ate me, he will… he wi-mmrph!”


The bird’s voice was instantly muffled by Simba’s paw, slamming on its beak and shutting him up. He couldn’t take his time anymore, knowing that his time was running out, and he had to be back without a hint of Zazu in less than an hour. Licking his lips he moved to face the muted bird, looking directly into his terrified gaze. He gave only an awkward smile to the bird before lifting him up by his bill, pulling him closer to his open maw.


Simba slowly directed the bird into his mouth, putting the bland, smooth beak in his mouth first. He lifted his own head in the air ever so slightly and swallowed, his muscles pulling the hornbill down and lodging it’s beak into the cub’s throat. The bird’s wonderful taste greeted Simba’s tongue once more, his saliva mixing with all the bird’s flavors was getting too much for him. At this point he didn’t care what was in his mouth, all he needed was something to hold him over until dinner.


He took another gulp and sent the rest of Zazu’s skull into his gullet. The boy’s tight throat only served to work over the bird and send him down bit by bit. But, more than half of the hornbill was still in the air, struggling and flailing around, dangling from the drool-ridden maw of the lion prince.


Zazu was in quite the unfamiliar territory. The cub’s warm, impossibly tight throat was pulling him in faster than he could push his way out. Simba’s tongue rubbed against every inch of his body, lubricating his feathers and flesh, only making it easier to fall deeper in. He tried to talk his way out, but his beak was forced close by everything around him. After a minute of this torture he could move his mouth the slightest bit, but the realization of why silenced him completely.


The bird was now waist deep inside the boy’s throat, and his flailing legs and talons were the only thing left visible from the outside world. Simba tried to shake his head back and forth to nauseate the prey, but it only let Zazu get a hit on him, clawing at the prince and providing a paper cut like scratch on his chin, barely cutting the skin, but shaving some of his fur right off. Simba couldn’t hold on much longer, lifting his head in the air and swallowing one last time, putting a paw up to his neck and feeling the meal slide down his throat. The only thing visible from the outside was the slight imprint of a struggling hornbill on his belly, and Hopefully, Simba thought, that’ll be gone before I get to Pride Rock. The boy wiggled his stomach a bit, feeling the extra weight in it, and started on his walk.


Inside, it was not a pleasant experience for the bird. The air was stale and the boy’s stomach acids were only rising, stinging Zazu everywhere they touched him. The cub’s stomach was very empty and somewhat spacious, if that was any consolation for the bird, but he only had his mind on one thing, escape. It would be hard though, he already felt the strength being sapped from him as the acid’s bubbled even more, almost sensing they had a meal to work through.


Zazu was panicking now, “LET ME OUT!” he yelled, slamming against and pecking at the boy’s side, wondering how much Simba could hear, or how long he had left.


On the outside, it was business as usual for the cub. He heard muffled screams or threats here and there, but just like he did when Zazu was outside of him, he tried to ignore them. He even laughed a bit as the bird ‘tickled’ his insides, feeling the hornbill press up against his sides and try to fight.


Walking home, Simba jumped once, feeling Zazu clamp down with his beak, sending a shooting pain up his side. Annoyed, the lion sat down and rolled onto his belly, “You will be a good meal and stay still, do you hear me?” he yelled at the flailing imprint.


When the cub lied down and rolled over, every part of Zazu’s world turned upside down. As he was thrown from side to side, his instinct to steady himself with his wings failed him, sending him tumbling around the stomach and being covered head to toe with digestive acids and enzymes. He heard the prince’s demand, but was in no place to carry it, fighting for his life.


He estimated he’d only been in there for a few minutes but he was already starting to shut down. The bird’s breathing slowed, and it took almost all of his effort to stand up, instantly being tossed around again when Simba rolled back to his front and started his walk back.


From Simba’s point of view, Zazu had finally given up. He was only a few minutes away from home and it was only if you looked directly at the bottom of his belly you would see the bird. The prince knew he was getting out of this scot-free, even about to show up to his training early.


Zazu didn’t have the strength to get up, his entire body was now covered by the acids and being chipped away piece by piece. He couldn’t even respond to the pain he was feeling as his feathers were falling off in lumps and his bones were poking through to the outside. He knew he only had a few seconds left, and resigned to his place, letting out his last breath as numbness washed over him.


When Zazu bit it, Simba had no clue, the only things on his mind were the full stomach he was enjoying and the hopefully good will he would have with his dad. All Zazu was now was a digesting lump of meat, feeding and fueling the young prince.


Simba walked with a strut up to his home, walking in just as his father was finishing a talk with a few lionesses. He looked serious, and a bit worried, but the cub couldn’t make out what he was saying.


The cub walked up to Mufasa and rubbed up against his leg, “Hi dad!” he said, giddily and full of energy. “I’m ready for training today, what do you have for me?”


Mufasa jumped as his son snuck up on him, “Simba!” he yelled, “Where have you been? I’ve had people looking all over for you. And now Zazu is missing, probably worried sick about you.” He turned around and looked closer at his son, seeing a small but unmistakable talon cut on his chin. Mufasa tilted his head, “You- you wouldn’t know anything about that right? You haven’t seen him?”


Simba let out a nervous laugh, “No, not at all.” he lied, taking a small step back, “I woke up and walked right here. I was only like ten minutes away!” As if on queue, Simba’s stomach let out a loud rumble from within, evident of the meal inside being worked on and sloshed about. “Did I- did I do something wrong?” the cub said, trying to hide the fear on his face.


The king sighed, seeing how worried his son was getting. I… I must be overreacting. He thought, walking over and putting a comforting paw on his son’s head. “No, you’re all right Simba, I just worry sometimes about you.” he said, moving his hand down and patting his boy on the back. “Let’s get on with training now, we have a lot to learn.”


Mufasa then got low to the ground, staring Simba down and moving his body back and forth, balancing himself on the rock. “Do you know what we’re going to be learning today?” he asked, keeping the pose.


Simba blissfully jumped in the air before striking the same pose his father was. “Pouncing!” he replied, exaggerating his movements. His little stomach rumbled again, very averse to the prince’s sudden exertion.


Neither lion seemed to notice though, and Mufasa was impressed with his son already. “Very good, Simba.” he said, moving over to correct his son’s slight mistakes in posture. He placed a paw on the cub’s rear, pulling him back and straightening his spine. “There, now it's perfect. Try to recreate that again, this time from your back.”


Simba rolled over, his stomach protesting much louder now, building up gas and air inside its tight confines. But, the cub was too focused on his task to stop now. Once his father nodded, he flipped over and got back into position, nailing the pose even better than last time. However, his body had enough of this, and a pocket of air moved its way upward, along with a solid mass.


Mufasa complimented his son on the pose, “Excellent Simba.” he said turning away and thinking of what to do next, “That one was about as perfect as you can get.” But, before he could figure out the newest exercise, he heard a loud belch from the cub, accompanied by what sounded like a rock falling to the ground, echoing throughout the room. When he turned back all he saw was an embarrassed and scared Simba, holding something close to his body.


The king walked over to his son, “What do you have there son?” he asked, genuinely curious to what had just happened. “You made quite a noise just then.”


I can’t, I just can’t hide this now. Simba thought to himself, his paws wrapped around the hard object, Maybe, just maybe he’ll let me go with a warning if I show him now. The boy sighed and stood up, removing his paws and revealing the bleached white skull of a hornbill, with only the slightest tint of orange and yellow left on it’s beak. “I- I can explain.” he said, quivering.


Mufasa was instantly taken aback by the sight. “Explain?” he roared, “How can you explain this? You ate my top advisor, my majordomo, my friend while he was ordered by me nonetheless, to find you? Simba, you don’t know the type of trouble you’re in, not in the slightest. I should’ve known when you came in with that little scar that you did something to Zazu, but not in a million years could I have imagined what you put him through, after all his service to us.”


The lion cub shook as his father’s imposing figure towered over him, “I told you I can explain!” he said, pointing to chin, “He attacked me, I was just fighting back you see?”


“Fighting back?” Mufasa questioned, “A prince, set to take over the Pride Lands too weak to subdue a hornbill and bring him back? I don’t buy the story for a second. Zazu couldn't've hurt a fly, much less a lion.” The king went up to his son and opened his mouth, descending upon him much like Simba did to Zazu. But, instead of a warm mouth encasing his head, Simba felt his father’s jaws clamp upon the scruff of his neck, picking him up and walking away, Zazu’s skull in his paw.


Simba kept his head down the entire journey, not being able to look his family and friends in the eye in such a shameful position. It felt like forever as he was being moved by Mufasa, and the time let him only wonder what would happen to him. I’ll be put in the dungeon for what I did. He thought, tears starting to form, Or even stripped of my title, I’ll be a nobody! He lamented on his fate the whole trip, hearing whispers from passing lions and lionesses about how angry his dad looked. He didn’t know what would happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.


After what felt like an eternity for the cub, he eventually was thrown into a grim, unlit room, Mufasa trailing behind him and blocking the entrance with a rock. “Now, we have to learn a new lesson. Since you just took one, we’re going to learn what it takes to create a life.” He sat on his rear end and laid his back against the wall, wiggling back and forth and settling in nicely, like he planned on being there a long while.


Then, surprising Simba, he did something he hadn’t done since his son was a tiny, tiny cub. Mufasa took his paw and patted his leg, “Come on.” Sternly speaking, and inviting him over, “You got a lesson to learn, and it's going to happen now. Don’t make me get up.”


Carefully, Simba walked over to his father, pleading with his eyes to not get in any trouble. Mufasa was still staring daggers into his son, his anger not fading as quickly as Simba would’ve hoped. Slowly he made his way onto one of his father’s hind legs, just like he did when he was a baby.


“Now,” The larger lion said, his eyes never diverting from his son, “I am at the end of my rope here. You have disobeyed me time and time again. You have made me look like a fool in front of all species of animals. And now you’ve eaten my top advisor, not only hurting my Kingdom, but hurting a friend that I held dearly. If you were any other animal I would’ve eaten you twenty times over for your insolence, do you understand?”


Simba only nodded in response, his breaths becoming heavier each moment he was trapped here.


“At least you got one thing down, now onto our lesson.” Mufasa continued, spreading his legs even more, and prominently showing his sheath and sack to his son. “I’m sure by now, you know what these are.” he said, taking a free paw and lightly batting his sheath, a small pink tip making its way out. “Your little buddy here probably hasn’t fully developed yet, such a shame.” the king teased. He played with himself in silence as Simba nervously watched, the boy hearing little moans slip out of his dad’s mouth every so often.


As Mufasa’s member stopped growing, and pre formed on his tip, he stopped. Instead, looking at his son and letting out an annoyed grunt, blowing air through his nose and slightly warming the two up, only for a second. “I would like you to put your paw on this.” Mufasa said, spreading his legs even further and letting a rogue beam of light hit his body, presenting his pride in it’s full glory.


Simba looked down at the cock, then back up at his father. “I- I really don't see how this relates to the lesson dad…” he said, his voice breaking.


Mufasa’s eyes grew large, and he let out a huff of air, growing angrier with each passing moment. “Don’t disrespect your King, boy.” he said, leaning forward, “Touch it.”


Doing what he was told, the cub reached over with a paw and worked over the shaft, just like he saw his father do before. He listened to his father moan as he did it, sending shivers down both of their spines, one of lust, and one of fear.


“Higher.” Mufasa ordered, blissfully taking in all his son was giving him. “The tip, try to stick a finger in there.” The king knew exactly what he was doing, even if his trusting son didn’t. He never wanted it to end this way, but after years of insubordination and now the death of Zazu, he needed to get rid of this prince and hopefully come out of this with a much better one.


Unaware, Simba kept doing what he was told, having no proper choice in the matter. He worked his way up his father’s throbbing member, seeing it grow in size the closer he got to the tip. Simba didn’t notice, the growth being barely noticeable, but big enough for the job it was about to do.


Getting to the top, he placed a single finger on the tip of the king’s wet, pre soaked cock. Almost instantly Simba noticed a change, a slight pulling motion became a force on the boy’s finger, instead of the pumping motion he’d just gotten used to.


“Stick it in.” Mufasa ordered again, seeing his son’s apprehensive face meet his stern glare. “You need to learn your lesson.”


Trusting his father’s words, he pushed against the tapered edge helping the pulling force down instead of fighting against it. The pull grew tighter and harder the second he started, his digit now sinking in, and not stopping. Not wanting to anger his father even more, Simba kept quiet, thinking this was all that the lesson had, even though it was far from over.


The cub let out a sigh as he felt his entire finger get pulled in, stopping as the rest of his paw blocked any more progress in slurping him up. Mufasa was less impressed though, feeling the boy’s slight tugs and futile escapes. “Put your other fingers in, your whole paw.” the king said, his tone the same from when this all started.


Simba let out a slight whine, but did as he was told, bending his fingers and paw so the tip could work on that. He hoped it would be over soon, but as his fingers sank into the tip, his paw went with it, moving up all the way to his wrist.


The inside of his father’s cock felt slimy, tight, and uncomfortably warm. The cub’s hand was coated with a sticky substance that only sped up his descent, pulling him up to his forearm in showing no signs of stopping.


Thankfully for the cub, Mufasa held up a paw, stopping his son just as his elbow was about to be taken in. Wordlessly, he used his free paw to grab Simba’s other arm, guiding it to join the other and forcing his son to press his fingers up to his tip and let them get sucked in. “Dad?” Simba said, asking for his father’s attention, “When is this over?” He couldn’t help but look forward in terror, his head being so close to being pulled in as well.


The king just laughed at the question, taking a hand and putting it against the back of Simba’s head. Instead of comforting him, he pushed the cub in deeper, squishing his face against the enlarged member and locking his skull in it.


Inside, it was just as bad as he imagined. It was unbearably hot and tight, his body only being able to move downward and inward. A thick musky smell attacked his nose, and it forced him to cough, a painful experience with how tightly squeezed he was. Another sense activated there too, as his father’s salty cum leaked it’s way into Simba’s mouth, the unfamiliar taste making him gag and try to spit it out, but only allowing more to find its way in. Still, above all else, the worst part of it was how dark it was. He couldn’t see a thing, and he did not understand where he was going, or what the rest of the lesson would entail. The only positive Simba could think of was that now he had control of his fingers, as the pressure on his front paws seemed to cease.


With the kid’s head now deep in his shaft, Mufasa was free to do what he wanted with him. He didn’t have to listen to the boy’s whining, or deal with any of his messes anymore. Simba’s fate was sealed, and the king couldn’t think of a better way for him to go out, the same way he came in.


Mufasa grabbed his bloated member and sunk lower onto the floor, resting his shoulder blades on the rock, watching his own son sink down and start to fill out his sack, the boy’s little paws batting back and forth as they stretched out the skin. The cub was halfway in, his little feet kicking in the air with a hint of worry to them, showing how little clue Simba had of what was happening to him.


Just as he was gaining movement in his arms, the tip of his muzzle started pushing through the end of Mufasa’s shaft. The same, musky smell blasted his nose as before, but this time it was much more concentrated, assaulting every inch of his nostrils. He tried to steady himself as he was slipping into this new room, but all that he felt was a fleshy wall that expanded when he pushed against it. As more of his head slipped in, and his eyes were free, he still couldn’t see a thing. The new prison he was approaching was dark and damp, and he felt a pool of the wet, sticky substance he encountered in his father's member at the bottom.


On the outside, only Simba’s legs and tail remained, the cub’s hind legs too squished together to fight, even if they could. Mufasa caught a glimpse of the boy’s small balls peeking out from between them and let out a sigh. Such a shame… he thought to himself, All this effort into raising him, and this is how he turns out. Hopefully, he can be of some use now, used in creating a better, more fit king. He watched as the cub’s little balls and rear slipped down; the rest following suit with his fuzzy tail being last to enter.


Simba was still too scared to speak up, but his mind raced with thousands of questions he needed to know the answer too. Slowly, as he was filling up his father’s sack, he dipped his hands into the thick, sticky liquid bubbling below. He didn’t notice any different from what he had encountered in the shaft, but it was already working away.


Soon, the rest of his body joined him in the sack, his legs falling in and splashing into the pooling cum, covering every inch of the cub. The pool started to sting the lion, but he didn’t dare speak up, not wanting to anger his father even more, and trusting him that he would be out of there soon. Waiting there for a moment, Simba’s ears perked up as he heard a voice from the outside, “Why aren’t you moving around in there?” Mufasa asked, muffled from the layer between them, “I know you’re still alive, put up a struggle or something.”


Alive? Struggle? I must have heard that wrong… Simba thought, taking a paw and pressing it against the surrounding walls. If he could see, he would’ve noticed that the color on his fur had already left. His cum-matted mane and coat were turning grey, and anywhere under the pool was already pure white. “Oh yeah!” Mufasa moaned from the outside, “Keep that up, you’re really working me up.”


Simba noticed each breath he took was becoming more and more labored. He had to say something, even if he would regret it later. “Um… dad?” he asked again, looking up into the darkness, “What- what’s the lesson that I’m learning in here?” He pawed at the fleshy walls again, this time his arm’s noticeably weaker than before. “Whatever is it, I… I think I learned my lesson right?”


At first there was silence from the outside, but just as quickly as it began, it ended with his father’s distinct laughter. It was usually infectious, leading to Simba joining in, but he didn’t this time. “Lesson?” Mufasa incredulously asked, “You really think there is still a lesson to be learned here? You killed my top advisor, need I say it again. You’ve been a thorn in my side since the day you were born, and to be honest, I should’ve done this much sooner.” The king put a paw on his balls where he thought the boy’s head was, giving it a slight push to see just how soft it was getting. “You’re going to be churned and digested just like Zazu. Dying in my sack just like that poor hornbill met his end in your belly. All you are to me now is a nice load of ball batter. I’m going to pump you into a lioness that’ll hopefully make a better son than what I have here.”


Simba didn’t understand a lot of what his father just said, but he knew enough to realize just how screwed he was. He already felt weak from his time in the sack, but the young cub had to fight with every ounce of strength he had left if he wanted a slight hope of survival.


Mufasa felt his son start to struggle now, his little body slamming against its new prison and his weak claws bounce off the fleshy walls. It took all the King’s discipline to not bust right there, shooting out his half-digested son onto the cave walls and ruining any chance for Simba to become useful. The thought crossed his mind, but he decided better of it, giving his son the smallest hint of dignity.


He didn’t feel like he had any though, trapped, and slowly fading away as each agonizing minute passed with no sign of escape. His white, glossy fur was now falling off in patches, and his front paws, the first to touch the bubbling cum inside were boney and thin. His mind was wondering too, not able to focus on simple tasks. Each time he hopelessly clawed at the walls surrounding him, he had to remind himself of where he was, and what he was doing.


The king was having the time of his life on the outside. His cock throbbed and leaked pre all over the rocky floor. Mufasa felt each punch and kick grow weaker and weaker, soon becoming pathetic, even for someone in Simba’s position. Mufasa decided to have one last bit of fun before it was all over.


Simba felt a weight press against his head, guiding him down to the rising pool of cum. He realized it was his father’s paw pushing him down, and he sighed in resignation, a wet gurgle being the only thing to come out of his throat. In any other circumstance, he would try to fight it, but his body was too weak to even put up any resistance. As he was lowered down by Mufasa, he felt something snap in his body, but he couldn’t tell what, nor did he remember it happening a second later. His skull was now submerged fully in the pool, softening by the moment and being pushed on by the large lion.


Mufasa took a deep breath and pushed, ending whatever life the cub had left in him. The move sent shivers down his spine, finally able to relish in the fact that it was all over, and he could begin anew soon. He let the limp, dead body of his son sit in his sack for a while, watching as pieces got stripped of fur, digested, and turned into cum. The life-like bulge Simba made in his sack soon was only a pile of lumps, and even then they were smoothing out by the minute.


Taking a single paw, Mufasa spent the rest of his time in the cave breaking and mushing pieces of the dead lion’s body into what he truly was meant to be, a pool of the king’s warm, sticky cum. Mufasa took every bone and bulge poking at his sack and easily kneaded and pushed them down, liquifying and joining the growing pool. By the time he was done, the former prince smoothly filled his balls with what he hoped would be a suitable heir.


Everything that once was Simba was now swimming in Mufasa’s full sack. He only lingered for a moment before trying to get up. While he was standing up though, Mufasa struggled to find balance with his bloated, full balls swinging behind him. He rested a paw on the rock that covered the room’s entrance and pushed. Slowly, but surely moving it out of the way. As he walked out of the cave, a very welcome sight greeted him. Every lioness in the kingdom was waiting, ready to bear the next prince.