For two days Simba had to endure. Kiara became needier as she approached the peak of her heat. More demanding of Kovu. In turn, the erotic spices and pheromones of her heat drove Kovu with need. The dark lion regularly walked around with his cock out, eager to resume his activities with his mate. Simba had found them busy plenty of times. Each time he couldn’t help but eye that gargantuan lion cock, thinking that maybe he had been wrong before. But each time it was just as big. 

Finally, the day was upon him. Simba left to walk a bit before sunset, eager to be away from those scents and sights. He took a longer path to Rafiki’s tree, looking out over the water buffalo and zebra herds. A single elephant was making a march across the plains, returning to her family, Simba assumed. Those close enough lowered their heads respectfully, though an equal number of furtive glances were sent his way. 

Simba made his way to Rafiki’s tree just before the sun was to hit the horizon. The light was orangey red as Simba scaled the tree, claws finding purchase in the bark as the lion hoisted himself up among the branches. And he emerged into a different world. Scents suddenly changed, the lighting was different, and the air felt off. Oddly damp and thick, carrying scents of strange spices and fruits. Something that smelled of rot, but Rafiki insisted was some weird word and not rot. Bones and stone, and mandrill. Lots of mandrill smell. The lights took on odd hues through leaves and baubles, seeming alien as the scents.

It was a little overwhelming at first. As Simba’s senses adjusted to the new stimuli he noted that the mandrill was at a higher branch, intently focused on a small shelf there. Simba wandered to the center of the wide trunk platform, laying down. He watched from below, musing how Rafiki might ‘help’, as he had been for the past two days. It’s not like he could shove a fruit in his sheath and pretend it was his shaft. 

Just as Simba was getting lost in his thoughts, pondering all kinds of bizarre things that might be about to occur to his most prized parts, Rafiki climbed down. Simba stood up as the mandrill climbed over toward him. Simba was glad he hadn’t had more time to think, lest the increasingly bizarre scenarios scare himself off. 

Rafiki settled in, lowering Timon to the floor. Timon was sweat-soaked and looked exhausted. His shaft hung partway from his sheath, looking hopelessly spent and flaccid. Simba stared, confused, at the meerkat. 

Timon slowly sat up, looking shakey. He lifted an arm, pointing a shaking paw at Simba. “Now look here mister. I don’t care if you’re king. This was… I don’t know if I’ll ever cum again.” Timon flopped back, panting. Rafiki chuckled at the meerkat’s exhaustion. He had also carried down a dried half-groud, holding it like a bowl. Simba couldn’t see what was in it as Rafiki headed to the shelves of his other various collections.

“Meerkats don’t do that crazy hundreds of times a day shit like you lions do!” Timon grumbled from his spot. His flaccid shaft leaking a tiny bit into his belly fur. Timon turned his head, looking over at Simba. 

“I did this because I love yah. But this ain’t happening again. And you had better not tell ANYONE I did this for you, or I will kick your kingly ass all the way back to the jungle.” Timon rattled off demandingly, panting a little after. Simba stared at Timon with a blank expression. Like the meerkat had spoken some unknown language. Without responding, Simba looked up to Rafiki for explanation. Even though Rafiki’s back was turned, he somehow seemed to sense Simba’s gaze. 

“There are many unique rituals that I know of, your majesty. There are many reasons for them. This will be a bit different, but this ritual will work under the same principals. Essentially, your majesty, I cannot just make you bigger, or stronger, or wiser, from nothing. But, if there is one close enough to you, who you share a deep connection with, who was willing to donate their essence…” Rafiki had smirk of a smile, clearly excited to try something so unusual. Always eager to learn more, when the consequences wouldn’t cause him harm.

Simba still didn’t quite get it. He turned back to Timon, lowering his head so his nose pad was at the same level as Timon’s head. He looked curiously to the meerkat, as he had so many times as he grew up. 

“The monkey milked me fer three damn days now. I think there’s more cum in that bowl than I’ve blown in all my time with Pumba.” Timon had to take a break to pant, his eyes closed. After a minute he continued, “Something about donating strength, or wisdom, or… whatever. Basically, you drink that, I get to have aching balls for weeks, you get a big dick for tonight.” Timon grumbled, clearly not so sure this would all be worth it.

Simba was struck silent, processing slowly. He looked to Rafiki again. The mandrill nodded, “If a king needed to be stronger… his kin would donate, becoming temporarily weaker, and the king temporarily stronger. This is just… a twist, on that.” He chuckled again, adding, “Half the way to the sun’s rise. Then you will revert to your original size. It would be best if you return before then.” Rafiki grinned toothily, “It wouldn’t be very effective if it happened while Kovu was licking you, your majesty.” Rafiki looked down to Timon, and pensively sighed. “I could have made it so you’d stay until sunrise, but I couldn’t collect enough essence.”

Timon lifted his arm up, giving Rafiki the middle finger. 

“Fuck you, monkey.”

Rafiki snort-laughed, returning to his work. While he added pinches of this and bits of that, stirred with some other thing, Rafiki teased, “I might have taken you up on that offer, if you had the energy.”

Timon lifted his other arm, doubling up on giving Rafiki the bird, then dropped both back to the tree. Sprawled out, sweating, panting, whining a little at the ache between his thighs. After everything finally connected, Simba leaned in, paw swiping out around Timon. Suddenly, the meerkat was stuck between muzzle tip and large lion paw. He was getting mussed up as Simba nuzzled over him, rumbling happily. 

“You are the best Timon. Thank you so much!” Simba exclaimed, his voice dripping with affection and sincerity. “I owe you so much! You’re the best dad!” Simba cooed, nosing and rubbing over Timon. He paused, muzzle wrinkling. Simbra grunted and pulled his muzzle away and laughed, “Jeeze. You stink.”

Timon had raised a hand, patting on Simba’s nose. “You see how you smell after three days of masturbation and milking and having a monkey finger shoved up your ass.” Timon grumbled, lounging back in the warmth of Simba’s soft paw pads. He could distinctly hear a hushed chuckle from Rafiki. Timon rolled his eyes. “And don’t worry about it. You don’t owe me. Did it cause I love yah. For now, go get this done and over with. Afterward you can groom me. And carry me back to Pumba. And find me the biggest, juiciest bugs around.” Timon grumbled. 

Rafiki was still rooting around. Simba couldn’t fully keep up as Rafiki worked, mixing various things into the bowl. The mandrill even yanked a few strands of fur free from Simba and Timon each, adding them into the vessel. 

By the time he was done and approached the two, Rafiki had a bowl full of many strange things. The bowl he held up to Simba had plenty of liquid in it. Simba looked from the milky goo in the bowl, to Timon, and back. “Wow.” He mumbled, humbled by just how productive Timon had been for him. 

The fluid smelled strange. An all too familiar meerkat cum, but also of fruit and flowers, that faint rot smell- fermentation, Simba suddenly remembered for some reason- and something that made his nose itch. 

“Drink, your majesty.” Rafiki encouraged.

Simba nodded and held his muzzle open, to the lip of the bowl. Rafiki lifted and tilted the bowl, pouring its contents into Simba’s mouth. The taste was even more bizarre than the smell. It had a sliminess to it, like when he would slurp snails back in the jungle. Simba quickly swallowed before he allowed himself to spit the concoction out. 

“Ugh! Wow, that… It’s better fresh from the tap.” Simba grumbled, tongue flicking along the roof of his maw, his fangs, and over his lips. Trying to clear the taste away.

“Everyone’s a critic.” Timon grumbled, watching from where he lay. 

Suddenly, Simba’s body started to feel heavy and his head dizzy. Simba lowered himself from sitting to laying. Rafiki’s space in the tree suddenly seemed so much brighter and more colorful. Rafiki came close, watching studiously. He set the bowl aside, taking a seat near Simba’s head. 

“Roll to your back, your majesty.” Rafiki instructed, patting at Simba’s shoulder. 

Simba could hardly roll over. Control of his body felt weird, like someone else was moving it for him. But the world rolled, and flopped. It was suddenly upside down. It took Simba a moment to realize he had, indeed, rolled over. He looked back to Timon, the meerkat giving a little encouraging smile and thumbs up. The meerkats giving him thumbs up- dizzy and spinning, Simba could see many Timons at once. 

Rafiki lifted Simba’s head up, pushing a mat of woven leaves under it to keep it propped up. That made Simba’s perspective change from the branches and leaves above to looking down his own body. Rafiki scooted down and around to straddle Simba’s tail. The mandril’s deft fingers took Simba’s sheath, gently squeezing it. Then he pulled the sheath up and open. Simba’s sheath looked so elastic and stretchy, and he could hardly feel Rafiki touching it. A weird tingling spread within it as Rafiki slid in a finger. An intense heat flared up when the finger pushed down on Simba’s shaft hidden within the stretched sheath. The heat felt like a rock under the mid-day sun, but without the pain. 

Rafiki worked Simba’s shaft out, the limp lion length resting in his palm. The same intense heat flared up wherever his shaft was touched. Rafiki started pushing, gently massaging the shaft and sheath. As all three watched, the sheath stretched wider, a little longer, as the shaft became erect and grew. It continued to grow, inflating longer and thicker and Rafiki massaged it. The sheath grew tight, then stretched further, as though it were growing along with the shaft. Simba’s balls grew thicker and his sack fuller as well, even though Rafiki wasn’t working there.

The shaft grew larger, and larger. Rafiki held it in his hand, squeezing the now impressive length, another pulse increasing the size. Finally, Rafiki moved his paws away, admiring his work. The heat had grown steadily more and more intense- then suddenly faded. As it faded, Simba’s disorientation seemed to fade too. The lights of the space dimmed to their usual, mellow glow. A pressure built between Simba’s legs as arousal ran to his balls, then up along his spine. 

Simba slowly rolled to his side, lifting a hindleg. He curled in, admiring the pink shaft jutting out like the proud branch of a tree. Senses returned to normal, Simba gaped at his now huge endowment. Easily bigger than Kovu’s, and then a little. Barbs crowned proudly around it. He breathed quickly, watching as the shaft throbbed and oozed pre. He leaned in, sniffing at the length, then licked it. The smell was his own, with a hint of meerkat. It smelled kind of like when Timon and he fooled around. The taste matched. The intense pleasure that ran up Simba’s spine was familiar. 

Spare the hint of meerkat, it was just like his own shaft. Bigger, more powerful, intimidating. But it felt the same and spit pre over his own muzzle the same. 

“Your new pride, your majesty.” Rafiki proudly announced, eyeing his work. It was gorgeous. A perfect cock that would reign king among all lions. 

“T… thank you, Rafiki.” Simba murmured, staring at the length. He flexed it, as he would flex his own shaft. It pulsed upward, thickening, oozing more, then retracting as he relaxed. 

“Now go, your majesty. You will not stay like this for long.” Rafiki advised, gesturing to Pride Rock in the distance. 

Simba nodded, rolling over and standing. His groin felt heavier as he stood, his balls aching for release. He leaped from the tree, landing powerfully on the ground and running to Pride Rock.