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Prince Marcus sat slouched in the back of the olive-colored jeep as his valet drove him through the savanna. He had been looking forward to this all year, his annual hunting trip in Africa. The red-haired young man looked out over the plains, taking in the sight of a pack of elephants lazily trudging along, hyenas lazing about in the mid-day sun.

Marcus himself cut a curious image out there. Back in his country, he had a reputation for his eccentric fashion sense and while most big game hunters in the Africa wilds preferred khaki or earth tones; the Prince wore a royal purple designer safari suit.

Made of a fine, durable yet comfortable material, the outfit had gold trim around the collar and sleeves, which coupled with the brass buttons on the outfit made Marcus look equal parts South American dictator and marching band leader. It wasn't practical and his valet, a frazzled-looking north African gentleman, told him this many times but Marcus didn't care. He was going to hunt big game in style.

When they arrived at the campsite, the driver shifted gears and the jeep lurched to a halt. The prince grabbed his pack and his gun: a hand-made German bolt-action rifle chambered in .300 magnum with a walnut stock adorned with florid gold inlay work. The gun itself cost more than most people spent on a used car, but it was one of Marcus' favorite hunting guns, having bagged him a bull moose on his last trip to Canada.

The plan was to bag a lion. He'd only need the one for his trophy room, then he could spend the rest of the trip hunting less important game, like zebra or buffalo. He knelt down and examined the tracks in the dusty earth in front of him, where constant vehicle and other traffic had worn a dirt path through the dry scrubland. To his good fortune, there was a set of fresh lion prints in the soil, leading into the undergrowth.

Prince Marcus smiled as he adjusted his sunglasses, not only would he bag a lion he wouldn't even have to break a sweat tracking the beast down.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder, taking a pair of binoculars and scanning over the level and sparse savanna. There he saw, after a minute of looking, a big male lion lazing about next to a gnarled old tree stripped of most of its leaves by grazing giraffes. Even with Marcus's privileged upbringing, he realized this sort of good fortune wasn't to be taken lightly. He crouched down and crept through the grass towards his prey slowly, taking care to both keep his movements silent as well as to not dirty his outfit.

When he got into range, he took the rifle and aimed it, looking through the scope at the feline predator. It was ironic, Marcus thought, that such a fearsome creature would be felled so easily by him. He steadied his aim, then pulled the trigger...

...only to find out that he had neglected to take the safety off. Grumbling, the Prince flicked the safety off and re-sighted the rifle only to find the lion had move behind the tree.

"Fuck's sake," He hissed under his breath. He crept around, rifle in his hands, until he was in position again. This time, Marcus would not miss; he aimed his weapon, finger on the trigger and... where did the lion go? He was sure he had seen it move behind the tree, and he was sure that, knowing how lazy male lions were, it wouldn't just leave its resting spot.

"Making it harder for both of us, huh?" Marcus whispered, he unscrewed his canteen and took a drink of water when he heard a growl behind him... close behind him. He whirled around, gun at the ready to see the lion from before, a huge specimen with tawny brown fur and a fluffy, perfectly kept mane. The big cat approached him calmly, and the Prince couldn't help but wonder if the animal was smiling at him.

"You're a clever cat, aren't you?" Marcus said with a smirk. "How'd you sneak up on me, big boy?"

And to his great surprise, the lion replied to him, speaking in a rumbly baritone: "I don't think you know where you are."

Marcus's jaw dropped, lowering his rifle as his mind processed what was going on. A lion was talking to him, of all things. The beast closed in, speaking with the kind of contempt that was all too familiar. "This is sacred land, stranger... and I am here to protect this place and the spirits that dwell here.

Marcus's mind was still reeling, wondering if his water had been spiked. "What... what are you, a magician?"

"You could say that," The lion said with a toothy grin. Then, the lion reared back on its hind legs, its musculature shifter so its front legs became broad, muscular arms, taking on the barrel chest and toned abs of an olympian as it stood on its back legs with ease. Every change, ever shift of bone and muscle was like water; smooth and quick. Marcus's brain racked itself, his sense coming to him too late as he tried to ready his gun only for the lion-man to snatch it out of his arms with the ease of a parent taking a toy from a child.

The lion turned the gun over in his paw-hands, studying it for a moment before opening the bolt and dropping the magazine. With the rifle unloaded, he tossed it aside before advancing on the stunned Prince. "Scared, are you?" The lion-man taunted. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

"I'm... I'm a Prince...." Marcus stuttered, his knees quaking. "I can get you whatever you want, whoever...whatever you are." In reply, The beast just laughed, his booming voice echoing around him.

"I'm tempted, but you really should learn not to go poking around where you weren't invited. "

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, to argue with the... whatever had confronted him, but the lion-man's eyes twinkled a curious purple color and then the Prince suddenly doubled over, clutching his gut as a flash of pain hit every part of him at once. There was a prickly heat creeping up underneath his skin and spreading throughout his body, starting at his belly and radiating outward.

Marcus's brow was slicked with sweat as he pawed at himself, undoing buttons to let himself breath. Even in the heat of the African sun he felt intolerably stuffy, hot... Only a strained moan escaped the Prince's lips as he unbuttoned his safari jacket, little tawny colored hairs sprouting like weeds all over his hands and wrists. He held his hands out in front of him, flexing his fingers as the joints popped and each digit grew thicker, his nails narrowing into sharp claws and retracting into little sheaths on the end of each finger. Rough, dark brown, leathery pads erupted from the Prince's palms and fingertips. Marcus flexed his hands in a way that quickly became natural to him, sheathing and unsheathing his claws as he looked on in equal measures fear and intrigue.

And in seconds, the little patches of tawny brown hairs became an even coat of short fur covering his new paw-hands and flowing up his wrists and forearms in a warm, scratchy wave. He lifted up his undershirt to see his softening abs already completely furry, with his waist feeling tight and pinched inward all over as it narrowed, while at the same time his hips and ass grew wider and fuller until they threatened to pop the seams in the seat of his trousers. A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat as his teeth grew sharper, he couldn't help but feel the changes with his tongue as the fur spread up his neck... up his chin.

Marcus heard his jaw pop and creak as his face pulled outward into a broad, blunt lion snouth, his nose turning dark brown and flattening against his muzzle into a cute little feline nose as the fur spread up the front of his face, complete with little whiskers sprouting up with a sound not unlike violin strings breaking. His ears rang as they changed shape, becoming rounder and migrating up closer to the top of his head, by that point the tawny fur had mostly overtaken his natural hair color, and he hadn't grown a mane yet which meant one thing...

The changing Prince let out a sudden yowl as a flash of pure, dumb pleasure flashed through his mind, and in an instant all his pain and discomfort became excitement, even a bit of lust in there. He was panting, his changing feet felt cramped and positively suffocated in his leather boots. He kicked them off just in time to see his new feet, his bulky paws burst through his socks. His legs bent in a way he wasn't used to, with his weight resting on the balls of his feet as his heels found themselves higher up in the air. There was another shock through his spine as another appendage pulled itself out of his tailbone, starting with a tuft of darker colored fur, followed by a thin tail... A tail very much like a lion's.

Marcus reached his paws down the front of his pants, the soft fingers touching the puffy lips of a new, moist organ. He yelped, partly out of the flash of pleasure that came from touching it and partly because of what it meant.

She was turning into a lioness. And then her undershirt started to feel tighter and tighter by the instant. A pair of firm, fuzzy handfuls ballooned beneath her white undershirt.She lifted it up, watching the two breasts, big ones, bob out. At least they were perky, she caught herself thinking. The lion-man was upon her as her changes finished, burying his nose in her chest breathing in her scent with a lusty growl. And in turn, Marcus could smell every note of his earthy, wild musk and she couldn't help but find it intoxicating, arousing even.

Her cheeks blazed as he pulled her closer to him, taking a moment to breath more of his scent in, unable to figure out why and what was happening. Her thoughts were swimming, directionless and fuzzy. Part of the changed Prince knew it was the lion shaman's doing, that he had put a spell on her... but it felt so good, felt so right.

"You've made a fine lioness. I really can't resist you..." He said, his whiskers tickling her neck, "... Shall we?"

And Marcus knew exactly what he was requesting, what he was implying, and before her mind could muster an argument against it, her mouth... her voice said "Yes, please."

She was simply unable to still her tongue as she said it again. "Please..." It was an invitation, and they both knew it was an invitation. The lion smirked, then gave her a kiss, a wet...deep kiss with their tongues meeting. She was passive, simply letting it happen and wondering why. He gently, yet firmly, pushed her to the ground, mounting her. She spread her legs as he pulled her trousers down with zealous energy, popping the button clasp off.

And for the next half-hour, Marcus the lioness's mind was a Technicolor blue of scents and feeling. The lion shaman thrust into her with a building rhythem, gentle at first but soon becoming tantalizingly, excitingly rough and the bestial quality only made her want more and more. As he licked and nipped at her neck, she felt like she had just discovered a longing to be bred and claimed by such a powerful male that had sat unrealized in her mind for years. Where had this lion been all her life?

Then, their climax hit and the lion pulled out, blasting load after load of hot spunk all over her purple outfit. His scent was on her, soaked into the lioness's very being. The two went limp on the warm grass, resting in each other's arms. Still, Marcus felt disappointed. She didn't know why but see the cum stains on her ruined safari suit made her feel like she hadn't earned yet the right for him to breed her.

"Master?" She said, huffing, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Just call me Rex..." He said, taking her paws in his own. "Don't you think that's a handsome name, Malia?"

Malia... The lioness repeated the name, and it stuck. The name felt right, feminine and graceful, fit for a queen like her... but was she a queen?

"Now... since we lions do this for a good, long time..." Rex said, and as he spoke, Malia felt her body shift once more, her breasts receding back into her chest, the fingers of her hands becoming shorter and less articulate, her thumb becoming just another digit on her lion paws... Her back popped as she stood up on her four legs, her hips rolling back... there would be no standing up in this form. She looked over to Rex, and he had regained the form of just a regular lion, and she a lioness.

The lioness looked at her beau and tried to speak, but only a wordless growl came out. The lion walked around behind her, putting his nuzzle between her back legs and probing his rough tongue between her folds, sending a ripple of dull pleasure through her. Already, she was needy again. He sensed her need, smelt it on her. He mounted the newly-made queen of his pride and with a powerful thrust of his barbed cock he began what would be several hours of off and on, in and out, bestial mating.

Hour after hour pounded by as Rex fucked the former Prince, the former human harder than she had ever conceived possible. She growled and moaned as they went on, never having felt dirtier, nor ever so good. Every once in a while he would pull out and let the both of them rest for just a while before continuing the rutting. When finally, he shot his last load into her, he dismounted and left her in a dripping pile, her purple clothing laying around her in tatters. As the lioness looked up at her new king, at his smile, she knew she would bear his cubs.

And though what happened to Prince Marcus would remain a mystery to his people, Malia the lioness would find contentment in her new life. She did not set out wanting to be a queen or a mother but it was better than nothing.