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Sarabi loosed a mewl of a roar as she fought the urge to stimulate herself against the rough, cold stone of the cave floor. There was no point. It wouldn't help. Nothing she could do would help. Only a male lion could sate her heat, and since her son, Simba, was the only male around, she would have to wait it out. She was hardly the first lioness to do so, but that didn't make it any easier. Still, there was no alternative to trudging through it.

She hissed as she rolled onto her side, letting the chill of the rock bite into her flank. The sharp discomfort was a welcome distraction from the cloying emptiness inside her. Yesterday, such distractions had been enough; today, not so much.

Someone padded in behind her. Sarabi suppressed a growl. She had picked this secluded spot precisely because she didn't want to be bothered. Solitude made the heat pass quickly, tricking her body or mind into believing there were no potential mates around--which was objectively true. Who was it, anyway?

As Sarabi lifted her head and opened her eyes, she caught a red mane. Her breath caught. Mufasa? No. It wasn't her mate. It couldn't be. How many times did she need to remind herself that it couldn't be?

"It's me," Simba said.

Sarabi grunted, setting her head down while she examined her son. He took so much after his late father, especially now that he was in his prime. The color of his mane was a perfect match--it was the same length, even--and he carried himself with a confidence that was surely inherited. It was hard not to feel a hundred different things when she looked at him. Especially in her current state.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," Simba said.

"Oh, it isn't too bad." She stretched and forced a smile, ignoring the burning emptiness in her loins. "Still, count yourself lucky that you'll never go through heat yourself."

"You shouldn't have to put up with this."

She huffed. "It is what it is."

"No, it's not. What it is is unfair. None of the others need to wait out their heat."

"Do you have a better solution?"

Simba took a tentative step forward. "Besides the obvious one?"

Sarabi paused as her heart fluttered. Surely she had misunderstood. There was no way he was offering to mate with her, to sate her heat like he would any other lioness. Why had her mind even gone there? The heat was driving her thoughts in a sexual direction. He was an attractive male lion in his prime, but he was also her_son_. He knew better than to offer. It was irresponsible of him to even be here.

"No, Simba," she said, doing her best to summon a stern, motherly voice between her panting. "Just go. I'll be fine. It's just a few more days."

"It doesn't need to be that long." He looked away and shook his head. "I know we're not supposed to, but I'm king now. What are rules to a king? Can't I change them to help you?"

Sarabi closed her eyes. He couldn't, could he? She knew that. Why? It was a struggle to even organize her thoughts. Simba's scent hung in the air, broadcasting his readiness, his status as a virile male. He was exactly what her body wanted. In a way, he was what her heart wanted, too. She'd have given a year of her life to have had just one more second with Mufasa. If she squinted, Simba looked a lot like him. That was an unhealthy thought.

"We can't cheat the natural order of things," Sarabi finally said. "We share blood. Those rules aren't under a king's purview. You should go."Before we make a mistake, she almost added.

"Right." Simba sighed. "I know that. Still, I've been hearing your yowls of frustration at the other end of the cave for hours, and I,"--his voice cracked--"I can't bear it, mom. How long will you keep putting up with this? How much worse will it get?"

"Oh, Simba."

"Let me help you. What's the point of being king if I can't even help you? Please, mom. I'm not a cub anymore." His voice turned into a lustful growl. "I can see you for the beautiful, mature lioness you are--"

"Simba!"

"Sorry, but your scent--oh, mom, you have no idea. It's driving me wild just standing here."

Sarabi perked her head back up and froze. Simba had a fully fledged erection dangling from his hips. Her heart skipped a beat. That erection was for_her_. She made it happen. Her rear began to rise of its own accord, presenting to him, but she forced it back down even as images of him pouncing on her and breeding her into the ground flashed through her mind.

"You always taught me to trust my instincts," Simba said as he stepped closer. "And right now, my instincts are screaming at me to breed the hot and desperate lioness before me." He was directly behind her. "What about yours?"

Sarabi shuddered, quashing the urge to fling her tail aside for him. Oh, why did her son have to come here and talk like this? Why did he have to look like his father, like her mate? Why did he have to be so hot?

Simba brought his head low and brushed her tail out of the way with a paw. "Oh," he said as he took in her slick fur and swollen folds. "You really need this, don't you?"

Sarabi's breath caught. She couldn't let him take this any further, but neither could she push him away, not when he was so close, not when relief was mere inches from her dripping sex. Not even if that relief was from her son. This damned heat.

"Please," Simba said. "Let me do this for you."

A tingle ran down Sarabi's spine. His voice had sounded just like Mufasa's. If she didn't look, if she ignored that she knew, she could pretend that the lion holding her tail aside behind her was him. It was indulgent, but maybe she deserved to indulge after those awful past few years.

Simba continued to loiter behind her, waiting for her response. Sarabi wanted to snap at him almost as much as she wanted what was dangling between his legs. He was tormenting her--not intentionally, she was sure, but she wasn't in the right state of mind. Her son was probably foolish enough to think he was doing the right thing, that giving her a choice was better than leaving her alone. Though he had grown into a stunning lion, he had not yet grown out of his naivety; she was certain he didn't even realize that all he was doing was placing the burden upon her.

The heat had already tested her will, and Simba's presence alone was challenging what little she had left. That he was this close and offering to mate only made it ten times worse. Surely the others would understand.

Sarabi snarled, and before she could stop herself, said, "Just do it already."

With a growl, Simba nudged his snout beneath her tail. He inhaled deeply through his nose, drinking in her scent, and exhaled shakily. Sarabi tensed as his hot breath rolled over the source of all her frustration for the past few days.

He was actually going to do it.

Simba placed his tongue flat against her underbelly and then pulled up, grooming her. The first one might as well have been platonic, but then he did it again, and again, each time higher, inching towards her swollen pussy. And then his next lick was on it.

Sarabi squirmed in delight as her son's tongue slipped inside her. It felt good. Of course it did. Why had she imagined it wouldn't, that their relation would taint it? Simba's tongue was the same as any other's. His ravenous licks and slurps were as genuine as any mate's. Her heat didn't care who was on the other end to so long as they were doing the right things--and was Simba ever doing the right things.

Sarabi gasped as the tip of his tongue darted to her clit, giving it a moment's attention before diving back inside her. She shifted her weight back, urging him deeper. As good as it was, her heat was ravenous. Simba's tongue could pleasure her, but it could never sate her. Right now, though, she was too desperate to care.

"Oh, you're good at that," she whispered.

Simba purred at the praise and redoubled his efforts. He slurped greedily against her every quivering fold, using the rough surface of his tongue to scratch gently at her walls just as his cock would.

Sarabi's legs shook. It had been too long; her last time had been years ago with Mufasa. By some miracle, she had not gone into heat during Scar's reign. It was a miracle she was paying for now with the intensity of this one.

Simba leaned in and reached under her belly with his foreleg, both to support her and to pull her haunches closer. With the new angle, he worked his tongue in deeper, stimulating every bit of swollen flesh he could reach. The subsequent wave of pleasure wracked Sarabi from head to tail. She stumbled, but Simba held her weight and kept licking, giving her body no respite from the simulation.

Fuck. Even when her legs gave up, he kept going.

He was going to keep going until she came.

It didn't matter anymore that Simba was her son. She didn't care about that now. All that mattered was that his tongue would bring her to the edge and over it. And with the way he was lapping at her pussy, tasting her heat like he couldn't get enough, that wouldn't take much longer.

Sarabi felt an orgasm building within her. With each stroke of his tongue, Simba brought that peak higher and higher. Soon, it would grow too tall and come crashing down like a wave. Except it didn't. Simba urged it further, continued to stoke her impending orgasm until it reached an impossible height, shadowing her every thought.

Her body tensed and her vision darkened as that wave of pleasure descended--slowly, at first, before the ecstasy fell upon her all at once. She came so hard that it hurt, climaxing onto her son's face even as he kept licking, slurping up what he could. Her walls surged against Simba's tongue as her body tried to coax a litter out of it, attempting to draw from her son what they had drawn from his father to conceive him. The heat would not be fooled as easily as her body, but for now she'd ride this pleasure out to a quivering end.

As her orgasm waned, Sarabi collapsed to the ground, her fall broken by the leg Simba still supported her with. To his credit, her son's muzzle was still buried underneath her tail, ensuring sure she got every last drop of pleasure as he tasted the evidence of it.

Sarabi stayed like that, her heart hammering as she caught her breath. Her son had just eaten her out, and she had loved it. The world was not crashing down. Why did she feel so content? Was the heat masking her shame, or did she actually have none?

"Simba," she murmured.

"Mmm." He gave her pussy one last lick before he pulled away. "You taste as good as you smell."

Sarabi huffed. Those were words she never thought she'd hear out of her son, certainly not directed towards her. But she didn't have the strength to scold him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to. Maybe with a less foggy mind she would, but in this state, his licking had only delayed the inevitable. Already the heat was roaring back down her body, twice as intense as before. Only seed could put out that fire, and with a heat this strong, it would take more than a few tries to douse it.

She turned her head and found her gaze pulled to Simba's erection. The tip of his cock was drenched in pre, and the whole thing throbbed in anticipation while she watched. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was as desperate as she was now, and she was literally in heat.

Sarabi gave a toothed grin despite herself. That erection was all hers. She could finally have what she needed.

"We can stop here, if you want," Simba said without looking at her. "I didn't mean to push you--"

"No." Sarabi put her weight shakily onto her forepaws and lifted her tail high, presenting to him fully. This was it; there was no going back after crossing this line. She exhaled. Then she waggled her rear, turned to him with half-lidded eyes, and said, "Kings finish what they start."

Simba pounced. He pinned his mother to the ground, growling while he bucked his hips into hers. His erection prodded against her haunches, smearing pre into Sarabi's fur each time he missed. She wriggled with glee with each one, reveling in the feeling of that warm, turgid length slapping against her belly. Simba's mane wasn't the only thing he had inherited from his father. And it was all going inside her soon. The entirety of her son's cock. She shuddered.

But that would have to wait until Simba figured out where exactly her pussy was. His frantic thrusts were misaimed; he had yet to learn to control that youthful eagerness of his. If he only slowed down and took his time, he'd have found his way inside her already. Yet even in the cloying throes of heat, Sarabi didn't mind. It turned her on to know Simba wanted her so badly that he couldn't even think straight.

By the time her heat-addled mind registered that Simba had found the right spot, his quick thrust had already buried his cock balls-deep inside her. She gasped, clenching involuntarily on it and urging him deeper. All she managed to do was scrape wonderfully against those barbs of his and squeeze a groan out of him.

"Simba," she whispered.

Her son took a shaky breath. "Sarabi." Then he pulled out and began to thrust.

In that moment, Sarabi knew that the spirit of Mufasa lived within her son. Maybe she'd call herself a fool later. She didn't care. Everything was right: the weight of his bulk atop her, the way his red mane brushed over the back of her neck, even the cadence and gait of his thrusts. Her mate was_right there_, breeding her in her heat just as he ought to.

Sarabi's mind went blank, lost in a storm of ecstasy. All she cared about now was reveling in that sensation of fullness and pleasure as her mate's cock slid in and out of her, granting her the satisfaction only breeding could give. There could be a pack of starving hyenas circling them and she wouldn't care. She could worry about the little things later, like how the body of the lion on top of her was that of her son's; right now all she wanted was to drown in the feeling of him pinning her to the ground, of the pleasure from clenching onto him until she squeezed out every last drop of seed he had to offer.

"Breed me," she breathed.

Simba rumbled out a growl. "You're so hot." He nipped at her nape. "Oh, fuck, your pussy is so"--his voice turned to a high-pitched whine as Sarabi clamped down on him, letting those barbs of his work their magic on her just as much as him.

"What?" she said between gasps.

"Tight!" he squeaked. "Not going to last."

"Good." She rolled her hips into his. "Don't pull out. I need this."

Simba's next thrust went deeper, and soon the sound and smells of sex filled the cave. Sarabi wondered if he'd be able to pull out if she asked. If her heat wasn't demanding to be quenched, it would have been fun to see him try. But today, she wanted to be bred properly and thoroughly.

The cadence of Simba's thrusts changed. "Mom," he warned before pushing in all the way and not pulling out.

At that moment, it became real. Mufasa's spirit or not, her son was inside her, balls deep in the pussy she had pushed him out of, demanding to seed the very place of his conception. In an abstract context, she might've found the closing of such a loop to be poetic. This was anything but. She_knew_ better. She knew they ought to stop. They had crossed many lines, but not the final one. There was still time to rip away and take everything back.

But it felt too good to be wrong.

"Simba."

His cock exploded, flooding Sarabi with the virile seed of her son. She failed to contain her yowl of pleasure as he gave her body the breeding it had been begging for these past few days. She had forgotten how_good_ this felt. There was something about mating in heat that transcended ordinary pleasure, unlocking this deep satisfaction that was unlike anything else, one that she had been starved of for years.

Simba had been right: she needed this.

He whined in release as his cock continued to jump, adding spurt after spurt to Sarabi's already inundated pussy. It was too much to contain. As it leaked out, the fur between their hips became a sticky, matted mess. And still Simba bred her.

"Fuck," Sarabi said as she curled her toes and mindlessly ground against him. His seed was like a balm, soothing the burning of her heat until there was only warm contentment. Temporary contentment, she sensed, but that was irrelevant. Right now, she needed it the same way she needed air, and Simba was giving it to her in abundance.

"Fuck." Simba agreed, chest heaving. He kept their hips locked together while he twitched a few more times, the torrent dwindling to a trickle as his orgasm subsided.

Sarabi lowered herself shakily to the floor, letting Simba's cock slip free as she did. A cold dribble of her son's seed oozed out of her. It was refreshing, but nowhere near enough. Maybe a dozen matings would sate her. Or perhaps his seed would take. Whichever happened first. Hopefully the former. She wouldn't envy the cubs.

She sighed. That was it, then. She had mated with her son. She still felt no shame, oddly enough. Regret, but not shame. Maybe the universe would take pity on her. Was she too old to bear cubs? No--Simba's seed had taken within Sarafina as easily as any lioness, despite her being equally aged. Sarabi was only fooling herself. If she could go into heat, she could have cubs. Perhaps Simba's seed wouldn't take anyway, but all she could do was persevere and hope for the best.

Simba licked the back of her neck. "Better?"

"For now." However much her body welcomed it, the relief would be short-lived. It took more than one mating to get through heat.

"Well, I'll need a few minutes, but then I'll be ready again." He nuzzled into the size of her head. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Sarabi shivered. There was that twinge of Mufasa, again, but as she studied Simba's face, it fell apart in her imagination. Regardless of how the experience had felt, she and her son had just bred. The responsible thing to do would be to send him away and stop things here, but his seed was inside her already. There was no turning back. She would forever be a lioness who had mated with her son, whether she did so once or a hundred times. Since she had already come this far, she might as well get her heat taken care of, too.

"Good," she finally said, turning her head away until all she could make of him was that red mane. "You have a legacy to live up to."