Simba’s Growing Pride
Extreme musk/smegma alt

-	Part 1        -

Simba grunted, his breath becoming a faint growl as a jerk woke him. He fought it for one moment, a second, and a few more. But it was useless. Sleep had abandoned him. 

It had happened yet again. Even after reclaiming Pride Rock. Even after becoming one with his pride once more. He had trouble resting. At this point, it had been several moons since he was properly rested. Fear of what might happen, replaying what had occurred, and the dreams of his father… The dreams of that stampede. 

But that was so long ago. He had come to terms, become confident, led his pride to success. The savannah was once more full of life, the lions’ bellies were full, and tranquil prosperity was all around. 

No, these moons of poor sleep were due to one thing. One lion. The lion had brought all these nightmares back.

It was all so close to happening again. The fear of losing his loved one still lived in his chest. This time, he feared that he could lose his beautiful daughter’s life… or maybe his own. The shadow of his uncle, Scar. That shadow that had returned, as a cub, who had since grown to a powerful lion. 

Kovu. 

Kovu was nothing but a faint reminder at first. That had changed over the years. Growing from a reminder, to a fear, to a threat as Kovu, and his daughter, had come together. Now the threat was just paces away, sharing a home with Simba. 

And that had brought them back. The nightmares. Where Kovu was stealing his daughter away. Or where Kovu was betraying Simba. Just as Kovu’s father had betrayed Simba’s father. The dreams became worse and more disturbing over time; while Kovu and Kiara had become much closer than Simba had ever hoped for. 

He had been a good father. Cautious, protective. Maybe too much. But that was a father’s place. Time had provided him with reason to be so suspicious. 

But now those suspicions should be gone. Should. But they were not. 

Kovu had proven himself. Kovu was one of their pride, his betrayal revealed, Nuka and Zira’s lives passing. Kovu’s history was swept clean, and Kovu’s love for Kiara had shown true. Even then… it was Scar in their own family once more. The dark mane, dark fur, a scarred eye. But that was okay. Simba had come to peace with Kovu’s presence. At peace with the restless sleep. Ignoring the dreams. For a good while, at least. 

But days ago, Simba had scented something. He had woken late in the morning, after only a fitful sleep. The stones were already warm from the sun. When the lions of the pride woke. When the lionesses, spare a few to tend cubs, were long gone for the hunt. 

Simba had rumbled at the warmth, rolled and stretched. Nothing seemed abnormal among the lions of his pride. The cubs too young to hunt, the lionesses tending them, and the few other permitted males. He looked among them, spotting the eldest of Simba’s sons left. The once-cub’s mane was thickening, the male deep into adolescence, nearing adulthood. Simba would have to command the lion to leave, soon. To find his own pride. To spread their family further.

But the scent of his once cub’s maturity was not the cause of concern. That wasn’t the scent that had awoken him. Simba had followed the scent, wandering to the inner regions of Pride Rock, among the areas of smooth stone upon which lions and lionesses would rest. 

He passed Kiara’s stone. His daughter’s rest. And a spice he knew far too well was on the stone. A lioness’s heat. A flag of fertility. A plead for cubs in her womb. Simba had stopped there for a long while, scenting along the rock. He wasn’t shy that his arousal had pushed from his sheath. Those pheromones would do so for any lion. What concerned him was the equally present scent of Kovu. 

Simba had called the two to him at nightfall. Simba was clear. He would not accept Kovu breeding his daughter at her first heat. Simba would not accept Kovu siring cubs in his pride. Not yet. They are a family now, but it was not yet time for his daughter to have her own cubs. Kiara and Kovu were too young to start their own pride. And as the king of the pride, Simba would choose who with and when Kiara and Kovu would have cubs. 

As king, only Simba may freely sire cubs at a whim. 

Kiara and Kovu both eagerly agreed. They were not yet ready to have cubs their own. They did not want to leave pride rock now- if ever. Simba felt comfort in their eagerness to agree, the genuine love and respect in their responses. Once his daughter and her mate had sworn their loyalty, they left the chamber. Simba was left confident in their integrity. 

Once alone, Simba had moved to their spots. Scenting where Kovu had sat. His muzzle wrinkled as he drew in the spice and heat of a male. Intense and pungent, sharp like spices. A rival, mature and bearing his own seed. Not unpleasant, even a touch arousing- if it were not such a threat to his daughter. Simba then turned, sniffing and lapping at the moist imprint left from his daughter’s sex. A different spice, all its own. Feminine and sweet along with the spices. A scent that made his orbs feel heavy. Simba spent time alone, there, reveling in the scent and taste, and taking care of his arousal from it. Savoring the mix of tasting his daughter then licking himself, the all-too-familiar taste of his shaft peppered with the taste of a new lioness’s heat an exotic delight. 

Assurance did little in the face of nightmares. Unconscious minds run wild. That led to Simba awakening, growling, as he had so often these days. At first, Simba was sure it was the nightmare. But as he raised himself and caught the air, perhaps the nightmare had not. A distinct scent filled Simba’s muzzle. The smell of lion and lioness in the throes of ecstasy. The scent of orgasms and the scent of making cubs. Scents that were in no way unfamiliar. Simba had sampled the scent of other males enjoying his lionesses- guests, or his own offspring- plenty before. He had not minded it in the slightest. So long as his lionesses were out of heat, or a cub was planned under Simba’s permission.  

But they didn’t have a guest lion at the moment, and it certainly wasn’t the scent of one of Simba’s sons. 

As Simba moved forward, standing and pulling away from his usual rest, he could feel Nala stir. His mate rolled to fill the space he had just left, eyes barely peeking open to meet Simba’s. 

“Your daughter loves him. They will have cubs someday.” Nala cooed quietly, eyes already closing again. 

“I specifically told them.” Simba retorted, “And they swore to me…” only to cut himself short as Nala’s eyes shown again, glaring at him. 

“If you hurt him, I’ll give you the same hurt. So don’t go bite anything off you don’t mind losing.” Nala responded, cool and quiet. It made Simba’s heart flutter, more dangerous than a snake about to strike. 

“I won’t.” Simba grumbled before turning away. A shiver passed through him and he shook out his mane and coat to chase it away. He didn’t trust Kovu, true. But to bite off… He would never. His muzzle wrinkled at the thought alone.

Simba paced away, leaving the thought behind him. He moved to the deeper chamber, where his daughter and her- another shiver- lover would be. Each step brought more of that scent, thicker, stronger. Sweat, salt, musk, vaginal fluids… cum. When they finally came into view, Simba felt his muzzle wrinkled at the pungency. At the same time, it made his sheath swell. 

What he saw caused him to falter. His subconscious was shocked by something, but his brain was falling behind figuring out what. 

They weren’t mating, to Simba’s relief. Kovu was upon his back, his tail toward Simba, his head opposite. Most of the male was hidden, Kiara laying atop her mate. Her bright fur contrasting so starkly against Kovu’s. Kiara’s tail was atop Kovu’s head, the male lapping hungrily beneath it. 

In the position, Kiara could easily spot her father. Her eyes, so similar a brown to Simba’s, looked up to him. She was panting and damp, clearly having been at this for a while now. 

It was the best possible situation Simba could have walked in on. Oral sex was common in his pride, lionesses and males engaging in it freely and openly. Of course, if Simba walked in on it, he was always welcomed to join. A king’s privilege. 

Then Simba realized what had stopped him dead in his tracks. Kovu’s shaft was a deeper, darker red than his own. Kiara had licked it several times while Simba stood there. Kiara’s muzzle wet with sheath fluids, specks of sheath grime, cum on whiskers and fur alike, all the markings of debauchery. Her chin rest against Kovu’s sheath, and the tip of Kovu’s shaft reached her nose. Smeared in a white film of saliva, cum, and a lack of grooming so frequent in the throes of heat.

The cock against Kiara’s lips dwarfed Simba’s. It made Simba’s, the shaft that sired numerous cubs, look like it was that of a cub.

Simba was larger. He was stronger. He was a king, and had countless cubs. But seeing Kovu’s shaft made him feel so small and so weak.

“Sorry if we woke you, dad. Just… you know. He can smell me and I’m just…” Kiara shivered and arched her back a little as a wet squelch came from behind her. She used her tail and smacked it on Kovu’s head. Kovu quickly pulled his tongue out and lifted his head, eyes widening as he spotted Simba. 

“Your Majesty.” Kovu rumbled, bowing his head. Pushing his nose right into Kiara’s ass when he did. “Would you like to join us? Or I could leave, if you need Kiara to…”

Simba shook his head. Trying to clear his head of the sight. Clear away the thick spice, palpable in his nose and on his tongue. The funk of another male’s shaft. “No, do not apologize. You both are such gifts to this pride, so loyal to your king. I did not wish to interrupt, just to share how proud I am of you both.” He rumbled, careful to maintain his tone pleasant and positive. He strode forward to bump his forehead to Kiara’s. For that brief moment, he could smell it. Kovu’s shaft. Ripe with lion masculinity, fetid with sheath smemga, muted by Kiara’s saliva and sucking. It throbbed there. Inches from his lips. Heat palpably radiating from it. 

“Thank you father.” Kiara cooed back to him, lips rubbing the shaft as she spoke. 

“Thank you.” Kovu echoed, voice breathy. 

Simba nodded to them and turned. “Do continue, with my blessings.” The king rumbled out as he left the chamber. 

Then Simba walked past the area where he and his mate rest. Then to the entrance, and right out of pride rock’s cave. He turned and made his way down the stones, walking on auto-pilot. 

He was flabbergasted. He didn’t know lions could be like… that. He had seen plenty of other male lions since Simba had returned to pride rock. There were some larger than he, some smaller, but all similar, only slight differences. 

Kovu was simply monstrous. 

An elephant stomping along with a pack of meerkats.

Simba found he had made his way to the grasses beyond pride rock. He looked around, watching waves ripple through the plains. So peaceful and beautiful, compared to what he had returned to so many years ago. Surely he could come to his senses relaxing here. 

Simba sprawled to his back, looking to the cloudless sky. Stars sparkled from horizon to horizon, a beautiful sea of deep blues and purples, speckled with points of light. 

Time stretched on as the sky slowly migrated. Simba tried to enjoy the sight, to leave his nuisance thoughts behind. But the image of Kovu’s shaft burned into his mind, throbbing against his daughter’s lips. The stink of it. The heat of it. All paired to the knowledge his own- smaller- shaft was stiff between his hind legs. A little cone, slick and slimy, twitching away as thoughts of what he saw played on repeat.

Eventually, a faint humming drifted in, catching Simba’s attention. Slowly, steadily, it grew louder as it approached. 

“Greetings, Rafiki.” Simba murmured when the mandrill was close. 

“Good evening, your majesty.” Rafiki chimed back, still humming as he got closer. The primate’s head popped into view, looking down at Simba from his side. 

“Out for an evening stroll, your majesty? The night air does such wonders for the body.” Rafiki noted, looking over the king. 

“Not quite.” Simba responded dully, still looking to the sky. He shuddered, hind legs lifting and stomach contracting as his shaft was gripped. A soft groan escaped his lips, Simba laying back as the fingers started to stroke, sliding up and down with the slick sheath fluids and grime that coated his length. 

“You’re quite excited, for someone who is so troubled.” Rafiki probed. All the while his deft finger tips slid up and down Simba’s shaft, thumb teasing and pushing at the barbs. 

“I… I caught Kiara and Kovu…” Simba mumbled amid his groans, eyes closing and head laying back. With his eyes closed, he was back there. Staring at his daughter licking an enormous lion cock. Simba’s hips absently twitched into the stroking, Rafiki’s skill evident with the pleasure building so quickly. 

“Ah, yes… That could trouble any parent, your majesty. But Kiara is a good lioness, and Kovu will make a fine mate. Someday, she too will worry over her own cub’s mates. Another circle of life, your majesty.” Rafiki observed, watching as Simba’s pink length tensed between his fingers. The fluids and grime had worked into a slick slurry, lubricating the spitting and dribbling shaft. 

“That’s not it, Rafiki.” Simba growled, quickly approaching orgasm. “It’s… They were licking one another, and … Kovu’s shaft… mine is so much smaller.”

Simba’s eyes were closed as he admitted, out loud, what had perturbed him so. He couldn’t help but picture it again. So close to his nose as he was affectionate with Kiara. Such a deep red, throbbing and wafting its scent and heat. Putting Simba’s shaft to shame. 

That was his thought when he came. Simba lay there, picturing the cock of his daughter’s mate. Rafiki eased his stroking, switching to massaging and teasing the barbs as Simba squirted several shots. They decorated over his belly, chest, mane and face, glistening beads over his fur. The poignant bouquet of a king’s cum perfuming the air. Stronger, more bitter than Kovu’s cum had smelled. 

Rafiki grew more gentle and slow as Simba’s orgasm subsided. When the lion went lax, Rafiki lift the hand to his muzzle and licked his fingers clean. Rafiki’s expression more thoughtful, as if analyzing the taste, only a faint sign of distaste at the bitter and fetid flavor.

“I was not aware size was something lions worried about. Lions are quite… miniscule compared to many species. I know zebra and elephants compare, but lions…”  Rafiki mused, chuckling after. 

“I wouldn’t usually, but… it’s huge. And… And he’s with my daughter, and…” Simba fretted, knowing it was all pointless. It didn’t actually matter, or change anything. But it just made Kovu seem suddenly so… intimidating. Threatening. Even more than before. The thoughts didn’t fade away with his orgasm, not as his slurry-slick shaft pulled back into his sheath. They were simply omnipresent. 

“Worry not, your majesty! This is something I can help with. Temporarily, but… sometimes a king must show his dominance, don’t you think? I am sure it would soothe your mind.” Rafiki moved closer to Simba’s head. His hand reached out, stroking from Simba’s nose pad, up between his eyes. Simba couldn’t help but notice Rafiki’s shaft hanging half-hard in the corner of his vision. 

“I… that would… be nice. Maintaining the order, showing my dominance…” Simba repeated. 

Rafiki nodded, “Of course, your majesty! It would be my pleasure to assist. It will take some preparation, though. Nala’s heat will peak… in two days?” Rafiki mused, stepping around to Simba’s head. “I shall make arrangements. Come to my tree two nights from now, just as the sun sets. I will take care of the rest.”

Rafiki now stood over Simba’s head, his shaft fully erect. The familiar scent of mandrill arousal filled Simba’s lungs. Sharp, sour, vastly different from a lion’s. Simba felt a pang of disappointment as he saw Rafiki’s shaft was unused- and dirty. A drip welled up on the tip, then fell upon Simba’s lips. The bitter and salty bite of flavor spread through his mouth.

“If you wouldn’t mind, your majesty?...” Rafiki ventured, shaft flexing when he did. 

Simba took a breath and opened his muzzle, just a little. His tongue stuck out and curled against his chin. All well practiced, having plenty of experience. Rafiki was quick to set his walking stick aside, move down and onto Simba’s muzzle. In an act of absurdity, the mandrill slipped his shaft into the lion’s mouth, between all the deadly fangs there. He lowered his hips until his sack pressed to Simba’s nose and the lion gave a distinct gag. It was a mix of so many things. The taste of Rafiki’s shaft, the grime that smeared upon the barbs of his tongue, the pungent scent on Rafiki’s sweaty shaft, and from the tip probing his throat. 

Rafiki rest his hands on Simba’s chest, leaning forward over the king. One leg lifted, foot gripping the side of Simba’s muzzle. It dug the tip of Rafiki’s shaft harder at his throat, adding in the smell of earth and mandrill foot. Simba let out another little gag. Rafiki began thrusting away into Simba’s muzzle, groaning away. Simba did his best to keep his jaws still, tongue pushing back against the shaft that glided down along it. He regularly gagged as Rafiki thrust away. The taste got stronger as fluids leaked out, mixing into the saliva and the grime Simba’s tongue cleaned away, the smell stronger as Rafiki got heated and began to sweat. Then Rafiki gripped down, pushing in, balls smacking to Simba’s nose. Hot, wet with sweat. Old cum that had dried to the sack now slick with sweat. Rafiki held tight there as his cum shot into Simba’s throat, then trailed back down into his upper jaw. Simba kept licking, doing his best not to react as more and more seed released. Despite the bitter, foul taste. Less would be unbecoming of a king.