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"Where on Earth did they even find one of these? It's gotta have some serious collectible value..."

Trent was so skilled with his fingers that he easily could have made a full time living out his hobby, but as it were, he made enough money that he could take his time with that hobby, instead, and kept it on the side to avoid dulling his passion for the craft.

During the day, he spent almost all of his time on the computer, but most evenings, he could be found at the pincushion: he loved sewing, and restoring beaten toys was a craft that he committed himself to with great care and pride.

When something so rare ended up on his sewing table, however, he couldn't help marveling at how such a thing ever came into his possession.

"Poor girl was left in this kind of condition, though...this isn't the sort of thing that happens from being snuggled up to someone at night. She nearly made it into the trash heap."

Word traveled around his neighborhood that Trent was such a skilled craftsman, and it wasn't at all uncommon for parents to come by with their children, or for collectors to bring their expensive goods to get a proper and professional refurbishment. Most of the time, there was some form of cash offered, but for Trent, seeing the light return to a child's crying eyes, or the excitement of a fan to see their character restored to their former glory was payment enough.

In the instance of this latest plush, there was no visitation: just a stuffed animal sitting on his porch, looking worse than any other he'd been offered before.

Already, the zebra went through the process of washing her several times, after pulling the majority of the fluff that could be saved from her body. Zira never looked so defeated in the movies as she did right then, but she was finally dry enough for a proper operation, and a fresh bag of stuffing was on standby; Trent was prepared to make absolutely sure that she'd be restored to her former glory.

As impressive as the process was, Trent made it seem incredibly simple: on those occasions where the children wanted to see the work being done, he allowed them to stand by the table with the parent supervising, and on some occasions, he'd even let them pull a loop of thread around a stitch, or let them pick how much fluff was going to be put back into a plushie.

Integrating them into the process added a layer of emotion that the families always seemed to appreciate, and when it came to the scrutiny of a collector, he knew his work was going to be observed from every conceivable angle.

Zira, however, was proving to be quite the passion project. There was no money involved, and no explanation at where she'd come from, but already, she was a far cry away from the tattered body, torn face, cracked eye and half-empty body that she was when she first arrived. The blue and green stains that tainted her coat were long since washed out, returning her proud and proper fur color...but that was only the first stage of the operation.

Little by little, Trent was pushing fluff into the ends of her legs and paws, making sure that they were stuffed, but not so much that her body would have an unrealistic appearance; he had a goal in mind of recreating the piece as close to the original specs as possible, and a reference image on his laptop made it easy for him to determine how much fluff to place within the cord of her tail, the berth of her hips, and the padding of her chest.

It was a painstaking process, eating up the majority of his weekend from start to finish, but as Saturday night drew to a dark, quiet close, he was pulling the needle through a seam for the final time, with scissors on hand to complete the final cut. Internal stitching hid the majority of the seams from anyone who might view his impressive work; all that was left was a final, and as far as Trent was concerned, an entirely necessary step.

His work was a labor of love, and seeing the fluff upon the top of her head restored to a proper, delicate state, he leaned in close and kissed the plushie on the forehead, deeming the restoration complete.

"For being raised in the badlands, you really are a sight for sore eyes," Trent murmured, having exhausted himself in the process of rebuilding the ruined toy. His fingertips ached from working the needle for so many hours straight, but he wanted to make sure that the toy, no matter how rough the new owners treated it, would be up to the demands of a second chance at life. "Whoever you end up with, I hope they treat you better than whoever left you like that..."

He'd take the plush over to the local hand-me-down store to donate it the next day, but right then, it was much too late for such a chore. The zebra was already prepared to fall asleep at his work desk, but he knew what a terrible strain that would put on his back; with a tired smile and another peck for Zira, he pushed back from the desk, stretched his arms overhead, and took himself to the bedroom with a sense of accomplishment that only his favorite hobby ever brought him.

He was nearly asleep before his back even had a chance to land against the comfort of his covers.

**

Sunday mornings were made for relaxing, and Trent was a student of that school of thought. He never set alarms to wake up at a certain time during the weekend, but among those days, Sunday was the most sacred time for him to relax, stay in bed until his stomach forced him out of it, and curl up in the covers with a lazy smile on his face.

That morning, while his smartphone sat idle on his nightstand, something else was very much alive, awake, and moving around in his bed, right over the top of him.

"How can you possibly be sleeping when you're already so stiff? Your body rises to the occasion before you even know that it's there..."

Still mostly asleep and blinking his eyes open, Trent was struggling to process anything that was being said to him, but as the words came across sloppy and slow, his body tensed up to a touch in a place that he couldn't ignore, no matter how tired he still was.

The sunlight wasn't quite breaking through the curtains just yet, keeping the room eerily dark, but in that darkness there was a figure moving upon his lap, rolling back and forth against his morning wood...and the texture, even through his boxers, was one he'd felt so many times before that he couldn't possibly mistake it.

That's...that's felt, he thought, keeping his voice to himself and doing his best not to panic at the fact that there was clearly someone atop him, but he barely felt the weight of their body, as if their insides were hollow. But it's not just felt, it feels like...almost like a series of petals made of the stuff? Like a flower?

His thought process was so close to the truth that he wouldn't be surprised when he saw what was really brushing over his cock, as much as he was shocked to see who was doing the deed.

"I knew I worked too hard last night..."

His voice was met with a giggle, and the tone of the voice was so hauntingly familiar, he felt as though he'd been sent back to a seat in the theater, watching a movie for the first time all over again.

"You certainly did work hard, and I was hoping you might understand that this gesture was one of appreciation. It seems I may have come on a little bit too strong for you...I never would have imagined such a diligent man to be so... timid."

There were plenty of words rushing to Trent's mind, but which ones to go with was proving a difficult choice: there was a lioness straddling his lap, and all the while, he could see the tips of her claws stroking down his bare chest, moving the blanket further and further down his body.

Every part of her was still effectively harmless, but the zebra couldn't turn off his instincts, and the subtle fear that came with being pinned under an aggressive predator left him paralyzed.

"Not sure if t-timid is the right word," he claimed, stammering over it and shooting his own point in the foot. "This is...t-this is impossible ; you understand that, right?"

"It may seem impossible to someone who isn't in the know, but for someone like you, who wields such skill with passion and care, very little is impossible," Zira began her explanation, but she seemed more content with the rolling of eager hips against a still-throbbing cock. "And when such skill is used for the sake of compassion and generosity, such a thing deserves to be rewarded, does it not?"

Even her manner of speaking was similar to the character from the movie, and as the sun finally peeked through the edges of the curtains, the subtle gold of her sclera and the pits of her blood-red irises flickered before him, captivating him with the first meeting of their eyes.

Save for how light and gentle she was to be pinned beneath, she was exactly how Trent would have imagined her, if the character could have been brought into reality.

"My work is its own reward," Trent claimed, though his voice continued to rattle with a sense of panic: everything happening was beyond his explanation or understanding. "And you...y-you're the plush I fixed last night, right?"

"That's correct."

"You were left in such a state that I couldn't possibly leave you like that, myself," he continued. "I felt terrible seeing how you looked when you first arrived...though...h-how you've come to be like... this...I don't really understand."

"As I said, it's a reward for your hard work," Zira claimed, though it seemed there was more to the equation than she was giving away. "Whatever gods smile on talented craftsmen like yourself surely appreciate the work you put into restoring me to my former glory!"

Even when he was struggling to accept the reality that was unfolding before him, Trent felt the edges of smooth, vinyl claws tugging at the waistline of his boxers. She giggled when his cock sprang up with such pulsing force, but for the first time, he was able to feel the unique, silky texture of her womanhood against the underside of his shaft.

She was a plush through and through, but whatever material was used to replicate her pubic mound was of such a delicate and tender make that it felt amazing when she rolled it against his flesh...and somehow, at the base of her hips dropping, he swore he could feel moisture coming from within the passage.

"Whatever happened last night, I...I d-didn't give you anything like this!" Trent assured her. He did all he could to keep from groaning aloud when she rolled up against and pressed the petals of her sex to the edge of his flared tip, but nothing could prepare him for the slick, warm brush of her folds spreading against the spot and giving him a sample of how heavenly she felt on the inside. "Not that I'm opposed to that kind of thing, but I...t-this wasn't me!"

"This was indeed beyond your actions," Zira agreed. "But every part of my body is a gift to you, now...even though it feels like I'm the one who has been blessed by your presence."

"You're really too kind," Trent suggested. Nervous and bewildered as he was, there was a subtle grin cracking the corner of his muzzle at that: he was only mortal, after all, and Zira's charms were tough for anyone to resist. "And rather...f-friendly..."

"You meant to say aggressive," she called him out, leaning closer and closer to his face. "And frankly, I'd prefer if you were honest with me about what you wanted from me, especially when your body is already speaking volumes for you."

It hardly seemed fair to Trent when he woke up with such a powerful erection, but how much of that was just his usual morning wood, and how much was to blame at the behest of the lioness, he couldn't be sure.

Right then, he only knew that she was expressing her interest in him with such a direct approach that he couldn't misconstrue her intentions, even when he found them impossible to believe, much less to understand.

"And if I were interested in...t-tha-

"Sex," she cut him off. "Interested in fucking me."

" That ," he reiterated, still too bashful to be as overt as she was. "Even if I wanted to have sex with you, I...y-you're a plush. A living one; still working on the whole believing that this is all happening part, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't even know how we would!"

"Either you're pretending that you can't feel how wet I am right now, or you're too busy worrying about the implications of getting caught to go through with what both know you want to do," Zira called him right out, grinning right in his face and exposing a set of fangs that looked too sharp and deadly to be as soft as they were against the lobe of his ear. "I assure you that no one is going to catch you in the act, and no one is going to come looking for me: I came here of my own accord, and I have plenty of plans in the works for you, Trent."

How she knew his name, how she'd come to life, and how she was literally dripping wet as she settled her mound against the flared tip of his cock were all mysteries that fascinated Trent, but none of his curiosities were strong enough to derail what she'd already begun.

Zira was going to take what she wanted from him no matter what, and so long as he kept throbbing against her petals with such intensity, she'd be convinced that he was just as interested in what she had to offer...

...But it was when the moisture of his precum disappeared between her tender petals that she knew he wanted their connection just as much, if not even more than she did.

"Hopefully you're not gonna do something that...requires f-further repairs?" he asked, wondering just how silly to be with his dirty talk when he was speaking to a living plush.

She responded by tossing the blanket aside and knocking open the curtain in the process, letting the lights illuminate the voluptuous body that she'd been blessed with: full, supple breasts were detailed with perky nipples and wide areolas, and a body that was thick and motherly spread just a little bit wider at the hips, thighs and backside.

Despite all of that, she was soft as a cloud in his lap and so light that he felt as though he could easily overpower her, if he so desired.

Judging by how still he held, breathless in awe of her beauty and realistic appearance, he was fine with letting her take the wheel for their first time.

"Trust me, Trent...this body is more than capable of handling everything you can dish out without taking any real damage," she assured him. "Though I'm sure it's gonna stretch me out a little bit when I take this delicious cock for the first time, it's nothing I can't handle..."

She was so realistic that she easily toed the line between being a plush and being a real , living lioness, but the aspects of her character that made her so memorable were all present: she was Zira, come to life, and she'd picked Trent as her next mate...but without his knowledge, she'd tabbed him for a much greater purpose than a passionate lay for time to time.

When the time was right, she'd let him know what his fate was to be, but right then, the only part she was worried about fulfilling was the reward that he'd rightfully earned, and the overwhelming pleasure that he was due.

"But, inside...are y-you-

"More than capable of handling you; I know how well-endowed you are, Trent. I spent a long time staring up at you while you worked on me, using those delicate fingertips and working your skillful needle in and out of my body..."

Her words were dripping with double entendre, but Zira still seemed to believe that something Trent had done was the cause of her coming to life.

He couldn't imagine what it was that he'd done differently for this toy than any of the others he'd worked on, and for the tiniest flesh of a moment, he worried about the moral implications of what might have happened to all of those families who went home smiling.

Come on, dude. There's no way that happened to the other toys too, did it?

"Were my words too much for your mind to handle, or are you really letting your thoughts wander when I'm practically throwing myself at you?"

She wasn't quite demanding, but her body was doing a great job of imposing itself: it was strange enough to feel the realistic petals of what could only be described as the world's most accurate, strategically placed hole, but at the very peak of her movements, Trent was sure that he could feel the tiny, rounded shape of her clit...and when his flare pressed upon it with a fresh pulse, Zira's eyes winced with such intensity that it left nothing up to interpretation.

The pleasure that she felt was entirely real, and each of the parts of her artificial body were just as receptive as they would have been if she were made of flesh and blood.

"You have to understand that this is all...n-nearly impossible for me to believe," Trent admitted, trying to decide how best to quantify the chances of the experience being real. "Sorry about all the precum I'm getting on your thigh; I...I think that'll wash out."

"You were able to clean far worse stains out of my fur than that," she reminded him. "The only thing you have to apologize for is being such a tease and wasting those juices outside of me, when they'd be better served going inside."

"But is this-

"It's real ," she cut him off, wanting to drown the last of his doubts in a defiant gesture. No longer content to roll her hips and tease the underside of his shaft, she properly straddled his lap and pushed back, forcing her petals to expand around the wide flare of his impressive cock...and though it defied any explanation he could come up with, Trent watched breathlessly as his shaft continued to disappear inside of Zira, inch by glorious inch. "And s-so...so is the pleasure I feel when I take this wonderful dick, Trent..."

Her voice was so thick with lust that Trent could feel it dripping over his ears as she spoke, but there was so much more to the overt sensuality of her act than her words: her inner muscles, or whatever she had that simulated them, clenched with a level of expertise that he didn't think possible...and yet, when she fully dropped into his lap, he could tell where each layer of silk was gripping him, from the bottom of his shaft to the flared tip.

As if that wasn't enough, she was cupping her breasts before him, lifting them up toward her own lips and rolling a tongue of the _softest_felt upon her own nipples; whether they were purely for appearance or not, they at least carried the function of bringing her greater pleasure.

"See? Took the whole thing...b-barely broke a sweat," she joked, wiping the back of her paw against her forehead and keeping a delighted grin on her muzzle, even when she was straining around his plentiful girth. "It's like you're a perfect fit, Trent...like y-you made me perfect for you."

He had no idea what was going to become of his life when he took the plushie inside from the front porch; Trent had no reason to think that anything was going to change, or that the plush was anything more than a donation from someone who was too ashamed to admit to leaving it in such a condition.

Already, the work that he'd put in was paying massive dividends, and as Zira lifted her backside for another thrust, he couldn't stop at sucking in a breath.

"O-oh, oh..._ooofuck..._whatever that is inside of you-

"It's my pussy, thank you..."

"It feels s-so fucking good ," Trent finally confessed, having bitten back on the words for so long that they came spilling over with a heavy, impassioned groan. "There's no way I could have made something...s-so realistic...so incredible..."

Grinning and leaning forth at the hip, Zira came to rest her full, supple breasts against Trent's chest, demonstrating a level of flexibility, both inside and out, that a flesh and blood creature could never replicate. Without losing an inch of his cock, she was able to come to rest atop him, but his shaft didn't have to bend in a painful, contorted manner to rest within the delicious warmth of her womanhood.

From there, she rested her chin on her paws, and those on his collarbone, admiring him with all the dreamy lust in her eyes of a schoolgirl ogling her first crush.

"Give yourself a little more credit, Trent. You were able to bring me to life, after all...why is it that you still doubt your own abilities so much?"

"I remember every single stitch," Trent confessed. "Every step of washing you, every single loop of threat I used to...s-sew you back up...and I didn't have a-anything to do th...this t-tight, squeezing flesh...I just know that I didn't!"

"I've been talking about a reward this whole time," Zira reminded him. "Of course you didn't do that...what kind of person has to create their own reward when he's got a lioness there to take care of it for him?"

Her words opened up even more questions, but her body left him without the breath and freedom to ask them: he was already losing himself to the unusual, but entirely blissful sensation of silky felt squeezing around his member with incredible, calculated pressure...but she wasn't stopping with that.

Every inch of her passage, no matter where it came from, was every bit as warm and tight as that of a real woman, but when bursts of precum leapt from the tip of his flare and coated her insides, the moisture didn't seem to absorb properly.

He was creating the moisture between them, but in a way beyond his understanding, her insides compounded it, until he could hear the delicate shlick of his manhood pushing the juices around.

"Isn't hard work its own reward?" Trent asked, his words hurried and even a little panicked; he was worried that he wasn't living up to the billing for Zira, but her stare told a different tale.

She knew that he was timid from the start, and she wanted to take charge, but she didn't think he'd make it so much fun for her, nor did she believe that he was capable of being so cute, sweet and innocent to boot.

"If it is, then I'm going to sincerely enjoy my reward," she assured him. "But for now, consider me to be yours...and when you feel like you're close, just let it flow, Trent. I want to feel it inside me..."

Her lips dragged across his cheek as she made her declaration, and with a brief pull away from his face, she rolled her clawtips down his neck, leaving him with the distant tickle of vinyl against his skin before she sat upright again.

Dropping herself with the full weight that she could off, her soft, light body was able to bounce with impossible vigor and still encompass the whole of his shaft in a series of brutal, rapid thrusts, without knocking the wind out of him or bruising his hips.

Had she the weight of a real lioness, she might have shattered his pelvis; instead, she was pummeling years of sexual frustration into dust and leaving Trent mostly unscathed.

"Ho...h-holy shit..."

Trent gritted his teeth together and sucked in a breath, but he refused to wince his eyes: he couldn't miss a moment of the goddess that had claimed his cock, bouncing and throwing her hips into his own with nothing short of reckless abandon...but she never tired, and for as long as she worked, her inner muscles clenched and squeezed in ways that his mind couldn't figure out.

At that point, however, he'd finally embraced the message that Zira was trying to impart on him all along: he needed to lay back and enjoy himself instead of trying to figure every little thing out, and now that he was, he was spiraling into a climax faster than he ever thought possible.

He wasn't a virgin, but as Zira worked his length with such internal skill and passion, he could remember how it felt; being totally outclassed by his partner and overwhelmed by them, only able to hope that he was doing enough by pushing his hips back against her inner thighs and doing his best to meet her neck-breaking pace.

"That's it, Trent...t-that's the way, baby! Pump that f-fucking cock into me," she demanded, keeping a grin on her lips that would have been more comforting, if not for the absolutely sinister gaze of lust that she draped over him. "Harder...y-you can go harder than that, Trent! Prove it!"

What she demanded, she received, and after minutes of nervous hesitation, the zebra threw his arms up around the plump, full backside of the lioness and held on, keeping her closer to his body and forcing her to ride his length a little faster.

His ass clenched up and his muscles pushed forth, doing all they could to drive every last inch of his length into her, but the growing heat and moisture in the pocket of her depths was already more than he could handle...

...Picking up the pace, even that little bit, proved his downfall.

"Zira, I-

" Love hearing you gasp my name like that..."

"I'm cumming!" he belted out, throwing his head back into the pillows and clenching her rump tight in both paws, squeezing the fluff so tight that it crumpled under his grasp. His hips threw themselves into the lioness with such force that his grip was the only thing that kept her from bucking off of his hips, but her ankles locked under his own, keeping her right in place and putting a lust-drunk smile on her lips as she felt the first overwhelming gush of his seed inside. "O-oh, oh gods...I don't...t-think I've ever... cum this fucking hard!"

He was coming unglued in the way that Zira so desperately wanted to see from him, but she wasn't singing out a chorus of praises for him, right then.

She was bucking herself as rapidly as her artificial hips would allow, letting her insides be utterly drowned by the flood from his equine member.

"Good thing someone finally came along to show you how it feels when you fuck a real woman," Zira teased, tugging that train of thought back onto the tracks, even when she knew he wouldn't be able to properly address it. "For the record, big guy...y-you made me cum a few times already..."

Trent's eyes widened at the thought: his confidence surged and a final, tremorous throb ran through the length of his cock as the last of his cum poured into Zira's passage. She could only absorb so much of the creamy treasure, and as it spilled back out of her body, she found an immediate appreciation for the warm mess, pooling against the settled nub of her clit.

She'd worked the young craftsman into a panting, whimpering mess, but it took only the slightest roll of her hips to leave her head against his chest...and a series of tender, comforting purrs soothed Trent to sleep before he'd even come down from the aftershock of his climax.

**

Having sex in the twilight hours of the morning was a thrilling experience, but an exhausting one: when Trent awoke, it was the morning proper, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

He almost didn't remember what had happened to him only hours before, but thinking of Zira, he abated his panic and realized that someone hadn't broken into his house to cook him breakfast.

"I see you're finally awake. Even being a lion, I feel like I could learn a thing or two from you about cat naps, Trent."

He stumbled out of the bedroom and down the hall to see Zira standing over the stove, prepping the last of the breakfast sausage he'd been keeping in the fridge and acting as though she was a proper housewife, more than a wild lioness. The scent was delightful, and the sight of her naked body was still enticing; the trickle of his seed between her thighs was finally dried out, but he could see the stain that was left behind...and just in front of that, there was the presence of another ruined plushie.

"I'll be sure to share my secrets with you when you tell me where that came from," he murmured, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and pointing at the tired, ruined toy.

"It's not a that ," Zira explained. "It's my daughter, Vitani...and you will be restoring her, the same way that you did for me."

"I...y-you...what now?"

"Why else do you think I was preparing breakfast for you? You've got a long day ahead of you, and the ruler of the pride needs to keep his strength up."

Trent immediately gulped, unsure of what he'd actually gotten himself into. "Ruler of the...w-what?"

Looking over her shoulder with a wide, fang-addled grin, Zira turned and presented Trent with both his breakfast, and his task for the day. "The pride, Trent. Usually, when there's more than one lion, that's what we call it. Having a zebra at the head of the table will be a bit of a change of pace, but I've got a feeling my daughter will warm up to you just fine, once you've fixed her up..."

Zira was only the first; Vitani may have been the second, but Trent was quickly realizing that she wouldn't be the last.