The Pride Lands glowed like a dying fire beneath the twilight, its golden hues dimmed by time and war. Atop Pride Rock, Simba stood alone, bathed in the last breath of sunlight. His silhouette—majestic, muscled, crowned in a fiery mane—cast long shadows behind him. He had taken back the land, taken back his birthright. But the silence was heavy. The weight of his crown pressed into his skin like thorns.
His tail lashed behind him as he exhaled slowly, uncertain. He had fought, roared, bled—and yet, this part of ruling... he didn't understand it. Nala had come to him and touched him. Her breath had been warm, her body close. But something in him had recoiled. Not from her—but from himself. From the ignorance he hadn't known he carried.
"You carry the pride of Mufasa, but you move like a cub still chasing butterflies."
The voice—low, smooth, impossibly close—made his ears twitch.
He turned. "Sarabi…"
She approached with measured grace, her paws silent on the stone. Time had kissed her body, but it hadn't dulled her. She was radiant in the fading light—powerful, sleek, her golden coat catching fire in the dusk. Her eyes, always strong, now shimmered with something else. Hunger. Knowledge. Something deep and ancient.
"I didn't hear you behind me," Simba said, his voice a little tight. "You move quietly."
"I move with purpose," she replied, circling him slowly. "Unlike you."
Simba frowned slightly. "I've done everything right. I reclaimed the throne. Drove Scar out. The land is healing."
"And yet the pride is still empty," she said softly. "No cubs. No new life. You rule from a high stone, Simba, but you don't yet know how to make the earth beneath it grow."
He hesitated. "You sound like Nala."
"I am who Nala came to," she said plainly, stepping close, her flank brushing his. "She said you didn't know how to touch her. That you stiffened when she offered herself. That your body listens, but your mind runs."
His ears folded back slightly. "I didn't mean to make her upset. I just... I was raised by a meerkat and a warthog. They never taught me this."
Sarabi hummed, low and thoughtful, like a lioness appraising prey—not with malice, but with a kind of commanding patience.
"Then let me teach you," she said.
Simba blinked. "What?"
She leaned in, her muzzle brushing beneath his ear, her breath hot. "I know the laws of the pride better than anyone alive. You are king—but if you cannot mate, the pride will wither. If you hesitate, you will lose them. Nala knew this. That's why she sent me."
"I don't understand... Why you?"
Her body pressed to his—soft, hot, familiar yet wholly different than he'd ever felt before.
"Because I'm the only lioness who can make you listen," she whispered. "Because you trust me. Because I made your father a king with my mouth, my body, my heat. And because I'm in season too, Simba. My need burns as much as yours, even if you don't recognize it yet."
Simba's breath caught in his throat. Her scent was overwhelming now—heady, thick, a dizzying blend of memory and desire. His muscles tensed. His sheath stirred.
"I—I don't want to hurt you."
Sarabi laughed softly, a sultry sound full of pride. "You won't. I've had a king inside me before, remember? You are not a cub anymore, Simba. You are a grown lion. All instinct. All heat. You just don't know how to use it."
He shivered as she nuzzled under his jaw, slow and tender. Her voice dropped to a purr.
"Let me show you how a king takes what's his. How to mount. How to thrust. How to claim."
Simba's paws shifted against the stone, uncertain. "And... Nala?"
"You and Nala were just cubs—tumbling through dust, chasing shadows. But now? Look at you. Strong. Hungry. Ready. She doesn't want sweet or slow, Simba. She wants to be taken—hard. Like a lioness in heat deserves."
Sarabi turned, tail flicking against his chest as she lowered herself onto the sun-warmed stone. Her movements were slow and deliberate, a queen in control even as she offered herself. She looked back, eyes molten with challenge and promise.
"She wants you to learn," she purred. "She wants a king. And I want you to burn away everything Scar left behind. I want to feel your weight. Your roar. Your seed. No more hesitation, Simba... mount your mother."
His breath caught, heat surging beneath his fur. Her words weren't just commands—they were a ritual, an ancient rite he was only now beginning to understand. His cock twitched beneath him, thick and aching, barbs swelling in anticipation.
Below, hidden in the tall grass, Nala watched with glowing eyes and a hungry smirk. Her tail twitched. She had set the fire. Now she waited for her king to burn.
Simba's muzzle lowered to Sarabi's massive, swaying tits. His tongue—rough, greedy—swirled over her dark, stiff nipples. He suckled with a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, echoing through the hollow as her sweat-slick fur pressed into him. The savanna pulsed around them: the buzz of crickets, the musk of heat, the wild call of instinct.
Her scent was intoxicating—ripe, primal, overwhelming. His mane bristled with tension, red-gold strands flaring as his cock hardened, barbed and pulsing.
"Take me," Sarabi breathed, voice thick with a queen's authority twisted into desperate need. "Make me yours. Mount your mother."
Her claws tore through the grass as he lapped harder, teeth grazing her nipples. A moan ripped from her throat, wild and raw. Her hips rolled back against him, tail lifting high—inviting, pleading.
"You're burning, Mom," he growled, voice thick with lust. "I'll give you what you need. What the pride needs."
Their eyes locked. She wasn't just Sarabi—she was every lioness before her, every queen bred to be conquered.
"Show me you're the king now," she growled. "Make me scream your name. Make me forget Mufasa ever existed."
Her words hit like thunder, and his snarl erupted. Feral. Unrelenting.
He lunged, pinning her with a savage thrust, claws sinking into the earth. His cock—thick, barbed, throbbing—pressed against her soaked cunt. A single brutal push, and he sank into her. Her walls stretched, clung, and screamed around him.
"Yes—Simba—harder!" she gasped, voice breaking beneath his pounding.
He drove into her, wild and merciless, hips slamming with the rhythm of a beast reclaiming the throne. His barbs raked her insides, igniting sparks with every drag. Her cunt clenched tighter as if trying to trap him inside. Her heavy breasts bounced beneath her, nipples grazing the grass, her cries echoing under the starlit sky.
Simba's growls turned guttural, his mane wild, movements fevered and unyielding—the rhythm of heat, of dominance.
"You're mine, Mom," he snarled, triumphant. "This is what you begged for—take all of it!"
Her moans rose to a crescendo, her body writhing beneath him, his barbs flaring as he drove deeper, locking them together.
"Claim my womb!" she roared, commanding, desperate—her tail lashing his flank.
His climax struck like a storm. A thunderous roar tore from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, thick, hot cum spurting deep into her spasming cunt. Her walls milked him greedily, every pulse of seed claimed and drawn into her.
She roared with him, the sound of their mating echoing across the savanna, raw and victorious. He stayed locked to her, panting, mane tangled in hers, as his seed dripped from her used pussy—his heat finally matched, sated by the queen who had made him king.
A sharp growl cut through the air nearby.
Nala's paw plunged deeper into her dripping cunt, claws slick with her wetness as she sprawled in the grass, emerald eyes glowing with mischief. "That's it, Simba," she purred, voice a teasing lilt brimming with playful pride. "Make her scream for you—make the stars shake."
Her tail whipped the earth, flattening the blades as her moans rose—sharp, wild, wanton. Cream-colored fur glistened under the stars. Legs spread, her paw working her needy pussy, she watched the scene unfold, her slick folds clenching with every sound Sarabi made.
The sight of her—grinding her cunt, watching with hungry eyes—sent a jolt through Simba's loins. His cock throbbed harder beneath his fur, thick and veined, precum beading at the tip as he feasted on Sarabi's breast, growl deepening with every suck.
He pulled back just enough to snarl, his voice bold and sure—a young king's vow slicing through the night. "You're mine. Both of you," he growled, mane flaring, muzzle slick with Sarabi's scent. "This pride belongs to me. And I'll prove it."
His yellow eyes flicked to Nala, then back to Sarabi, his claws flexing as he shifted his weight, keeping the elder lioness pinned. Her tits jiggled with every pant, her growl a blend of triumph and aching need.
"Then prove it, young king," she urged, voice regal but trembling. "Breed me—fill me up with your future."
Her tail lashed his flank, her deep, earthy musk overwhelming his senses, drawing him deeper into her desire.
Nala's purr turned wicked as she rose, her paw slick with arousal, hips swaying as she padded closer—youthful fire in every step. "Watching's great," she teased, "but come on—I want in."
She dropped beside Sarabi, her eyes burning with heat as she lowered her muzzle between the elder lioness's trembling thighs. Sarabi was still spread wide, Simba's thick cum seeping from her raw, swollen cunt—hot and glistening in the moonlight.
Nala licked her lips and dove in.
Her tongue slid through the sticky mess, lapping Simba's cum from Sarabi's folds in long, eager strokes. Sarabi gasped, her hips jolting as the young lioness licked her clean, moaning as Nala pressed deeper, tasting the mix of sweat, heat, and seed.
"Still hungry," Sarabi panted, her voice rough and needful, hips rocking toward Nala's tongue. "I can still take more…"
Nala growled softly against her pussy, licking with fervent delight, clearly enjoying every drop—and every twitch of Sarabi's slick, stretched cunt. Her eyes flicked up to Simba, glinting with hunger.
"I love seeing you like this," she purred, her tongue teasing Sarabi's clit now, making the elder lioness groan with fresh need. "So fucking royal. So full of power."
Her claws dug into Sarabi's thighs, her pussy clenching around the elder's tongue, dripping hot slick onto her face. Simba rose, his mane flaring, a deep, thunderous growl rolling from his throat as he loomed over them.
"My pride… my lionesses," he growled, his voice trembling with new, ravenous hunger. "I just want to keep fucking—both of you. All day. Every inch. Over and over."
His cock swayed, thick and glistening with precum as he stepped closer, paws sinking into the grass.
But Nala wasn't done playing.
She pulled her muzzle from Sarabi's pussy, face drenched with her juices, and crawled toward Simba with a teasing purr.
"Not so fast, my king," she said, tone slick with sass. "Let's hear her beg a little louder."
She shoved Sarabi onto her side again, straddling her thigh, grinding her soaked cunt against the elder's fur. "Feel that, Sarabi?" Nala purred, her claws grazing the lioness's flank. "That's what you're missing—so go on, tell him."
Sarabi's growl turned guttural, her voice a husky plea. "Please, Simba—breed me. Make me yours. I want your cubs—I need them."
Her tits mashed into the grass, nipples grazing the blades as she writhed, aching for him.
Simba snarled, his cock rock-hard, and pounced—pinning her hips with a king's weight. Nala grinned, sliding back to Sarabi's tits.
"Let's finish her," she purred, her tongue lapping at a nipple again, claws kneading the heavy flesh as Simba's muzzle claimed the other.
"Oh—gods—yes," Sarabi roared, voice cracking, her body lost in lust. "Claim me—both of you—make this pride burn!"
Her soaked cunt dripped into the grass as she bucked, her entire body shaking beneath them—a MILF lioness overwhelmed by two relentless lovers.
Nala's eyes glinted up at Simba, her purr a challenge. "She's ours, Simba," she whispered, licking her lips. "But don't forget me. I want my turn too."
She shifted again, rubbing her slick pussy against Sarabi's thigh, leaving a hot, wet trail as she sucked harder, claws gripping tight.
Simba's snarl deepened, his jaws clamped around Sarabi's thick nipple, tongue swirling over it with hungry, relentless flicks. Nala purred against the other breast, her claws digging into Sarabi's hips as she kneaded her like prey beneath her paws. The elder lioness moaned, her voice ragged but still laced with queenly authority—"Simba… please. I need it. I need you to put your cubs in me." Her sweat-slick fur trembled with heat, her cunt leaking freely onto the crushed grass, while Nala's grinding left a wet streak along her thigh.
Their scents filled the hollow—Simba's raw and sharp, Nala's wild and heady, Sarabi's deep and musky with heat—so thick it coated the air, smothering the chirping crickets. Simba's cock pulsed, fat and twitching, dripping precum in long trails as he pulled away from Sarabi's chest, mane bristling, eyes blazing with hunger.
"No more pleading," he growled, voice rich with dominance, the weight of a young king finally claiming his throne. "You're mine. Both of you. My lionesses. My pride."
He stood tall, paws digging into the earth, his cock swinging heavy beneath him. Nala looked up at him, muzzle glistening with Sarabi's taste, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Mmm, that's the tone I love," she purred. "Come on then, Your Majesty. Let's see if you can fuck like a king."
She nudged Sarabi, who let out a low growl and rolled onto her belly, her powerful frame moving with grace and hunger. Her breasts dragged against the grass, her yellow eyes locked on Simba's cock.
"You have your father's strength," she murmured, voice thick with longing. "Now show me you've earned his place."
She crawled toward him, muzzle lowering toward his swollen shaft. Nala joined her, their bodies brushing, cream and gold fur tangled as they knelt before their king. Nala's tongue struck first, flicking over the tip and licking up his leaking arousal with a slow, sultry moan.
"Mmm, already this hard?" she teased. "You're going to ruin us, aren't you?"
Sarabi followed, her tongue dragging over his balls, then sucking one deep into her muzzle, a deep purr vibrating from her throat. Her claws flexed in the grass, her control slipping as her instincts flared.
Simba's snarl rumbled low and deep, his muscles tense as their mouths worked him—slick, warm, relentless. Nala bobbed on his shaft, lips wrapped tight around the base, tongue swirling as spit dribbled down. Sarabi licked and sucked, then took him in one hard swallow, gagging around his cock with a low, broken groan.
"Breed me, Simba—please, gods—fill me." She pulled back, panting, muzzle dripping with drool.
"She can barely wait," Nala grinned, licking his shaft with long, teasing strokes. "Better not keep your mother waiting, my king."
Simba's roar thundered through the grassy hollow near Pride Rock—deep and resonant—shaking the starlit night as the savanna's heat pulsed around them. "On your backs—now," he commanded, voice sharp with kingly fire, his red-gold mane flaring wildly, tawny fur glistening with sweat. His cock throbbed beneath him—thick, barbed, pulsing with the raw heat coursing through his veins—his yellow eyes glinting with untamed dominance.
Nala dropped first, sprawling onto the grass with a wicked, teasing smirk. Her cream-colored legs spread wide, her slick cunt glinting under the stars, dripping with her heat. "Claim your queen, Simba," she purred, low and daring, emerald eyes sparking with playful fire as her tail flicked and her claws flexed in anticipation.
Simba lunged, mounting her in one brutal thrust—his thick, barbed cock slamming into her tight, wet folds, stretching her with feral force. She arched beneath him, a sharp, wild cry tearing from her throat. "Yes—Simba—fuck me!" she howled, bucking against his savage rhythm, claws shredding the dirt as her heat gripped him—slick and unrelenting.
He pounded her relentlessly, hips snapping in fierce, lion-like bursts. His barbs raked her walls with every thrust, sending jolts through her trembling frame. Nala's growls escalated, her sleek body quaking beneath him, fur matted with sweat. "Harder—oh gods—don't stop!" she gasped, her cunt clenching tight as her climax hit—a roaring wave crashing over her, spilling slick heat around his cock. Her paws clawed the earth in ecstasy.
But Simba's snarl only deepened, his dominance unyielding. "Not done, Nala," he rumbled, voice bold and primal, thrusting deeper still—his barbed tip breaching her womb's entrance. She whimpered, overwhelmed, as he drove harder, his cock swelling inside her, stretching her limits.
His rhythm turned punishing, each thrust a claim on her core, his balls slapping her soaked folds. Nala's stomach tensed, then bloated faintly as he roared—a deep, guttural sound shaking the hollow—his thick, hot cum erupting, flooding her womb completely. Pulse after pulse filled her, her tight walls milking him dry until she overflowed, his seed dripping onto the grass, her body trembling beneath him.
"Simba—oh—fuck!" she panted, purring through her shudders, claws digging into his shoulders as her bloated belly quivered, sated but marked by his reign.
From the sidelines, Sarabi watched, lust-drunk yellow eyes glinting, a growl rumbling in her throat as her heavy breasts heaved with every ragged breath. She rolled onto her back beside them, legs parting with deliberate, regal grace, revealing her deeper, glistening cunt—ripe, aching, unsated from years of neglect.
"Me now, my son," she begged, voice velvet-wrapped steel—breathless yet commanding—her tawny coat slick with sweat. "Satisfy me. I need your cubs—please." Her tail lashed wildly, heat radiating in waves—a lioness in desperate estrus, starved too long under Scar's shadow.
Simba pulled free from Nala, her slick cunt leaking thick seed onto the grass, her whimper sharp and high. He turned to Sarabi with a teasing growl. "More horny than Nala, huh?" he rumbled, bold and mocking, looming over her, cock still hard and glistening with Nala's juices. "Begging like you've never been fucked."
Sarabi's growl caught—needy and indignant—her heavy breasts trembling as she writhed. "Fill me, Simba—now!" she demanded, regal poise cracking under her primal ache, claws tearing at the earth.
He pounced, slamming his barbed cock into her soaked pussy with a single, savage thrust, driving deep into her yielding depths. Sarabi roared, her back bowing, claws ripping at the grass as her cunt spasmed around him.
"Yes—oh, yes—fuck me!" Sarabi moaned, her voice hoarse, desperate, her body bucking beneath him. Her heavy tits bounced violently with every savage snap of Simba's hips, her claws ripping trenches into the dirt. She was nothing like the stoic queen of old—she was feral, undone, completely conquered.
Simba loomed above her, the scent of sweat and sex thick between them, his mane wild as his thrusts turned brutal. "You'll take it all, Sarabi," he growled low, each word a thunderclap in her ears. "I'll make you pregnant—again and again—my lioness. You don't need to hunt. You don't need to do anything but stay in heat for me. I'll keep you full, bloated with my seed—year after year. There won't be a season where you're not carrying my cubs."
That broke her.
Her roar shattered the air, back arched to the sky as her orgasm slammed into her like lightning. Her cunt spasmed around him, sucking greedily at his cock, milking every inch with wild, rhythmic pulses. "Yes—fuck—yes! Breed me!" she howled, juices gushing from her spasming slit as her legs kicked and twitched under the waves of pleasure. Her pussy clamped down hard like it never wanted to let him go.
Simba gritted his teeth, feeling her walls flutter and lock tight around him—hot, wet, frantic. He grunted, hips pistoning faster, chasing his peak as her climax coaxed him over the edge.
With a savage thrust that slammed his cock deep into her womb, Simba threw back his head and roared—deep, raw, dominant—his entire body tensing as his cock throbbed hard inside her. Thick, scalding seed erupted in heavy, forceful spurts, flooding her womb in hot waves. Sarabi whimpered through her aftershocks, her body twitching under the heat that filled her belly, her womb stretching slightly with the sheer volume of his cum.
"Take it," he hissed, still pulsing inside her. "Take all of it. I'll keep you like this—bred and leaking—forever."
Her belly gave a faint swell as the last heavy spurt emptied inside her, and then he pulled out with a deep, wet sound—his cock dragging through her slick folds, still hard and dripping with seed.
A gush of cum followed—thick, creamy torrents spilling from her stretched, abused cunt, the excess too much for her womb to hold. It dripped freely down her thighs, soaking the grass below.
But not for long.
Nala, eyes wide and lust-drunk, crawled close—panting, trembling, starving. "You're wasting it…" she whispered, voice cracked with heat and envy.
Without hesitation, she leaned in and licked hungrily, her tongue dragging through the messy spill of cum still oozing from Sarabi's used pussy. Her cheeks were flushed, breath ragged, tasting the lion who had just bred them both. She moaned softly, worshipful and greedy, devouring every drop that spilled from Sarabi's raw, quivering folds.
Sarabi let out a slow, pleased sigh, her body twitching with aftershocks. She reached down, claws threading through Nala's mane, guiding her deeper between her trembling thighs.
"That's it, girl," she murmured, voice a sultry purr laced with pride and cruelty. "Lap it up. Every drop."
Nala whimpered against her, lost in devotion, face smeared with Simba's seed and slick. Her tongue never stopped, sweeping eagerly over Sarabi's twitching slit, dipping in to catch what still leaked out.
Sarabi smirked down at her, then lifted her gaze to Simba—her son, her king—his cock still rock-hard, smeared with the slickness of both lionesses, glistening with fresh need.
"A queen's only duty," Sarabi said, her voice rising, rich, and commanding, "is to serve her king."
She dragged her claws lightly across Nala's back, making the younger lioness shiver.
"And in your case, that means serving me too. The savannah will call you queen, but to Simba… you'll be a whore—like me. Always wet. Always ready. Always open."
Nala moaned into her cunt at the words, licking even deeper, like a beast in heat worshiping a goddess.
Sarabi rolled her hips with a languid stretch of satisfaction, then turned her gaze back to Simba—eyes burning, lips curling into a grin.
"I hope you're not finished, my King," she purred darkly, voice thick like velvet draped over steel. "Other lionesses are waiting. Watching. Starving."
She leaned back, spreading her legs wider, proudly displaying her still-spilling sex and Nala buried in it like a priestess at the altar.
"They've waited through Scar's drought. Now they want your seed, your roar, your cock. So rest if you must…" She chuckled, low and wicked. "But not for long. Your pride is ready to be bred."
Simba stood tall, towering over them, his mane wild, cock twitching with raw hunger. A feral grin split his face as he stepped forward, muscles taut, gaze glowing with power and lust.
His pride was marked. Owned. Claimed.
And his reign had only just begun.
He let out a slow, rumbling growl—deep, final, victorious.
"It's good to be king."