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 not present. Simba wandered to the center of the wide trunk platform, laying down. He mused how Rafiki might ‘help’, as he had 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 returned. 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. Simba stared, confused, at the meerkat. 

Timon took charge, striding over to Simba, one fist on his hip, the other waving one finger pointedly at the lion’s nose. 

“Now look here mister. I don’t care if you’re king, I’m doing this because I love yah. And you had better not tell ANYONE that I’m doing this for you, or I will kick your kingly ass all the way back to the jungle. And do NOT shove me in someone’s ass.” 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. 

“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 make… more of you. I cannot just add to you from nothing. But, if there is one willing, close enough to you, who you share a deep connection with…” 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. 

“He’s gonna shove me in your sheath and bam! I’m your dick. You go and wag me in Kovu’s face and make him lick it or whatever yah weirdo lions are up to. Then I get to be me again.” Timon gesticulated some very lewd actions as he explained it. He then stopped, lifted his arm, and shoved his finger against Simba’s nose pad. “Do NOT shove me in that little nincompoop lion’s ass. No! Asses!” he half-shouted, emphasizing the words with a prod to Simba’s nose.

Simba was struck silent, processing slowly. He looked to Rafiki again. The mandrill nodded, adding, “Half the way to the sun’s rise. Then he will revert to his own body. It would be best if you return before then.” He grinned toothily, “It wouldn’t be very effective if it happened while Kovu was licking you, your majesty.” 

Simba nodded slowly, then looked back to Timon. He leaned in, paw swiping out to get Timon’s back. 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. “And no asses! I promise.” Simba added, pulling back so he could see Timon again. “And I’ll owe you. I’ll owe you so much! I bet I could even talk Nala into…”.

Timon had raised a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it some other time. For now, let’s get this done and over with. I need enough time to wash in the oasis after. Like, five washes. Or ten.” Timon grumbled. 

Rafiki was already in action. He went to one of the many branches and pulled down a gourd. He opened it and poured something into two split gourds, long ago dried to function as bowls. Simba couldn’t fully keep up as Rafiki worked, mixing various things. The mandrill even yanked a few strands of fur free from Simba and Timon each, adding them into the vessels. 

By the time he was done and approached the two, Rafiki had both bowls full of a mix of many strange things. The bowl he held up to Simba had plenty of liquid in it, while the other was a small quantity. It smelled strange. 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. Within seconds his 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. 

Simba hardly registered a ‘ugh’, Timon’s response to the drink. Shortly after Rafiki came, holding a very limp Timon in his paw. The meerkat looked so limp, his body curved into Rafiki’s palm like he had melted. 

“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’s jaw hanging slack. He was breathing slow and deep, Timon’s eyes dilated so his eyes were mostly dark black. 

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 walked on three limbs to straddle Simba’s tail. The mandril’s deft fingers took Simba’s sheath, pulling it 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 one of Timon’s feet, then the other. An intense heat flared up when each of the soles 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 slipped Timon’s tail in, under his soles. While the soles rest atop the shaft, the tail slid beneath, against the belly of Simba’s cock. The same intense heat flared up where the tail touched. 

Rafiki started pushing, gently working Timon into the sheath. The sheath stretched wider, a little longer, as Timon’s knees and thighs slid in. Simba absently noted that Timon was hard, the small shaft lazily throbbing against his belly. Then that was gone, slipping into Simba’s sheath. The heat had spread, filling Simba’s groin. Somehow, this all wasn’t right. His sheath should have been stretched huge by Timon, but it was like the meerkat was sinking in and the majority of his body disappearing. 

Timon’s hands were fed into the sheath while resting atop the meerkat’s belly. Simba could finally see something happening as Timon sunk deeper. Timon’s fur vanished in a wave up along him, his skin turning slick and the pink of Simba’s cock. As shoulders slid in Timon’s mouth closed, his lips puckered forward into a circle. His head tilted back, looking straight up. His neck swelled as his head narrowed to a conical tip, barbs growing just as the Timon’s muzzle slid down into Simba’s sheath. 

The sheath was larger now. Not a ton, but noticeable. It was stretched tighter and fuller, but also certainly bigger. Rafiki held the sheath tip closed atop Timon’s head. The heat grew 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. 

Rafiki let the sheath go. It quickly stretched open as a pink shaft pushed free, jutting out like the proud branch of a tree. Senses returned to normal, Simba gaped at his now huge shaft. 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. Out of what used to be Timon’s mouth. 

“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. Timon 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.