The Prince and the Emperor
Emperor Leontius smiled as he looked down from the terrace, onto the empty city square below. He was pleased with the progress that had been made in such a short time; not only in scouring the city for any remaining pockets of resistance, but in so thoroughly removing the artifacts of the city's former leaders and replacing them with banners bearing his own insignia. He strolled back into the throne room, which was still quite sparsely decorated. The high-backed, golden throne sat in the center of the room, flanked on either side by a pair of purple banners. Save for a relatively simple purple carpet that was laid in front of the throne, the marble floors, pillars, and walls of the room were bare. While it wasn't what the lion was used to, it was an acceptable, temporary substitute. The worst of it was how low the ceilings and doorframes in the palace were, but that could hardly be considered a surprise, given its previous inhabitants.
He padded silently across the floor, a stern, implacable expression on his face. He was satisfied with the ongoing state of the occupation, but he would not be able to rest easily until the last stage of his plan had been completed. He was at that moment awaiting an important piece of news from one of his messengers, which concerned the location of an essential component which he needed to have in his possession before his plan could go forward. While this final piece of his grand strategy had thus far eluded him, he had been assured by his advisers that their most recent intelligence was accurate, and that today would be the day.
The king's sensitive hearing detected the hurried footfalls as they approached, even before the guards standing outside the throne room. They quickly moved to open the heavy, wooden doors, and the Emperor's muzzle spread into a triumphant grin as he recognized his messenger's distinctive gait, and just from the sounds of his movements, the Emperor knew what news the young, spry lion was bringing him well before the words left his lips. "We have him. The mission was a complete success. The prisoner was taken completely unharmed. There was not a single casualty, just as you expected. He is being brought here, now."
Moments later, Leontius was seated in his throne, watching as the small, white-furred figure was led into the room and presented before the king. The prisoner was dressed in a short, brown child's tunic, his wrists bound together behind him, and a hood drawn over his face. Despite his confinement, the figure walked proudly with his head held high and his back straight, until he was standing directly before the emperor, and the bag was pulled back by one of his captors, who then saw the dismissing motion of the lion's paw, and then bowed and withdrew, leaving the Emperor alone with his captive.
The mouse blinked in the sudden light when his hood was removed, but once he had adjusted, he narrowed his eyes as he found himself looking up at the grinning figure of the leonine emperor. His face immediately flushed pink in a mixture of fury and embarrassment, but his shock swiftly faded and was replaced with a stoic and almost regal calm, belying the situation he had found himself in. He lifted his chin and drew himself up to his full height, which would have barely reached above the lion's abdomen. But all the same, he attempted to look as confident and poised as a rather slight mouse dressed in child's clothing could manage to be. He likely succeeded, but it was not easy to notice the difference.
"Emperor Leontius," the mouse spoke, demonstrating his recognition of the lion, trying as hard as he could to sound firmly in control. He was ready to engage the Emperor as an equal, to discuss the events of the past few days, and to learn what the lion hoped to accomplish. However, as his thin, squeaky voice echoed in the lonely and cavernous room, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by his own smallness, and the next words he had hoped to say died unspoken in his throat. His posture drooped, ever so slightly, and he closed his muzzle, listening to the last echoes of his squeak fade away.
Once the room was silent again, the emperor rose from his throne and strode confidently over to where the mouse was standing. Despite his size, the lion moved without a sound across the marble floor, in a way that only a feline predator could manage. The lion had no trouble appearing intimidating and in fact would have had difficulty doing otherwise, as he towered over the rodent, wearing his regal purple and gold-trimmed robes, his grin showing off a mouth full of sharp fangs. His maned chin was dipped to his chest as he looked down at the diminutive mouse, a low rumble building in his chest before he purr-growled, "Greetings, Prince Pirithous."
The mouse seemed to take great offense to this, and he opened his muzzle as his brow furrowed, looking ready to respond with an angry and castigating rebuke, but before he could squeak a single word, the lion calmly raised a paw and took the mouse's muzzle between two fingers - thumb under his chin and index finger on his nosepad - gently but authoritatively forcing the rodent to shut his muzzle. The prince was shocked as he was so easily silenced, emitting a single, muffled grunt while the lion let out a deep chuckle and continued.
"I said Prince, not King, young mouse. Even though your father is dead, I know that there was no time to conduct a proper coronation. And so, you remain a prince." He met the mouse's eyes with his steely, amber gaze until the Prince's defiant glare melted away, at which point he released the mouse's muzzle. "Your new attire suits you, Prince. I imagine that you believed that disguising yourself by wearing a child's garb would make it harder for me to find you. Or perhaps you simply prefer the freedoms of youth to the responsibilities of adulthood?" His eyes twinkled. "No matter. I welcome you back to your former home. As you can see, I have made it my provisional residence. Living in a mouse's den is not much better than a battlefield tent, but it is sufficient, for the time being."
The rodent squeaked and shook his head, quivering where he stood, unable to contain his rage. He clenched his paws into fists behind him and yelled, "You! You assault my people, invade my kingdom, and occupy my ancestral home?" While he had hoped that his words would resound as a damning and bellowing indictment, the tone ended up much closer to that of a plaintive and puerile whine, to which the lion responded by pressing the tip of his finger against the mouse's lips. Despite the accusations that had been leveled at him, he did not look the least bit angry.
"Hush, child. You do not understand. You believe that we have come into your lands as invaders. You are mistaken. We are here as saviors. We have come on a mission of mercy. I know of what dire situation your people are in. Your forests' game is all but unhunted. You seas are not properly fished. And raiders from the north and east ride unmolested through your lands, pillaging your villages and burning your crops. You have been helpless to stop this. But this is not your fault. You have forgotten yourselves. You have simply lost your way." The lion turned his back to the mouse, a hint of indifference in his body language, but his tone still commanded attention.
"Surely you remember the old tales, young prince. You must have heard them at your nursemaid's knee, not too many summers past. The small and helpless mouse who serves a large and powerful lion in exchange for protection, guidance, and care. There is much truth in these stories, you must know. Or do they no longer tell these tales in the mouse's own kingdom?" The question, like any significant pause in the Emperor's speech, was accompanied by an austere glance which stifled any attempt the Prince considered to try to make the monologue into a dialogue. "It was ill-fated of your race to attempt to stand on its own, little one. Mice are by their very nature dependent on superior creatures, of course. You were made to live on the scraps of a mighty empire, rodent prince. An empire like ours. You belong in our fold, little lost mouseling."
"Not only will we protect your people from your neighbors, who for decades have known that your defenses were weak and your grain easily taken. We will see to it that your woods are not overrun and your seas and rivers not choked with fishes. We will see to it that your people are better fed than they have ever been. But that is not all that brings me here, Pirithous. I do not merely bring you protection, or sustenance. I will bring you and your people the one thing that every mouse desires, in the very core of their being. The only thing that can truly bring a mouse fulfillment." At this, the Emperor turned himself back to face the Prince, letting his promise hang in the air for a long moment before he revealed his final gift. "Subservience."
"You have probably never known the true joy of serving a larger, stronger, wiser species, have you? I will show you what you've been missing. I do not doubt that you have learned at the feet of the most accomplished tutors that your country can produce, but until this point, your education has been sorely lacking. You will soon see what you were meant for, and you will know what you've been missing during your entire life. You have seen twenty summers, correct? There is much to unlearn from that time, but now you have the finest teacher you could hope for. Your lesson begins now."
Without warning, the lion drew in a deep breath and unleashed a furious, bellowing roar, his muzzle mere inches from the mouse's face. The prince, suddenly faced with a ferocious and massive predator, let out a frightened squeal and tried to back away. But his legs tangled together and he fell backwards, landing on his backside on the marble floor. He sat there and quivered, whimpering in a high-pitched voice, tears dribbling down his cheeks as he panted and gasped, struggling to regain his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. As he looked up at the lion, who now seemed even larger from his position on the floor, he was surprised to see the Emperor smirking and gently shaking his maned head back and forth.
"You are supposed to be a proud and stalwart defender of your people, young Prince. But that was all it took to reduce you to a sniveling, whimpering, pathetic child? And you haven't even noticed that you've wet your tunic." Sure enough, the mouse realized his bladder had released in his spasming moment of terror, and he was now sitting in a growing puddle. The lion continued, "I would be surprised if your advisers had told you, but do you know how many casualties there have been when our armies met yours? Not a single one. It took little more than a good roar to send your soldiers bawling on their backsides and soiling themselves. At that point, they have been easy to capture. Some of your subjects have had a similar reaction when they see a lion walking down the street."
The lion reached down and with the same thumb and index finger he had used to stifle the mouse's protests, he pinched the scruff of the Prince's neck and brought him to his trembling feet, while urine dripped from his wet tunic, down the insides of his thighs. It seemed that the large, powerful feline didn't have to exert himself at all when he lifted the slight rodent. He then reached behind the mouse and unsheathed his claws, making a short swiping gesture - and all of a sudden, the mouse found the ropes binding his wrists together sliding free and dropping to the floor. When the lion saw the surprise on the prince's face, he chuckled and rumbled, "I don't think I have anything to fear from a mouse who can't even keep his tunic dry. Now, about that..."
There was a flash of movement as the lion's paws ran up and down the mouse's sides, his claws still unsheathed. For a moment, the mouse was unsure of what had just happened, but he quickly understood when he felt the two pieces of his tunic separating and peeling off his body to fall to the floor at his feet. With the precision of a tailor, the lion had shredded the seams of the mouse's garment, without leaving so much as a scratch on the prince's fur. A moment later, Pirithous was standing before the lion in nothing but his underclothes: a formerly-white strip of material running between his legs, covering his crotch and undertail, attached to a cord that wrapped around his waist. This cloth was now soaked by his accident, stained yellow and dripping down his legs. The Emperor grinned at the embarrassed, nearly-naked rodent.
"What are waiting for, Prince? You ought to be cleaning up the mess you made," he rumbled, gesturing towards the puddle on the floor. The mouse hesitated for just a moment before he glanced up at the light glinting off one of the lion's fangs, and he remembered the devastating sharpness of the lion's clothes. While no threat had been voiced, there was certainly one suggested. The Prince dropped to his knees, picking up the pieces of his tunic and beginning to use them to towel up his still-warm accident from the marble floor. As he did so, his body involuntarily shivered, a motion that the lion's keen senses detected with ease.
"You felt that, didn't you? I expect that you are not used to receiving orders, being the Prince of this little kingdom. It is your species' natural state, so you have been deprived of being able to fulfill your true purpose for so many years. I expect that your body will respond very strongly to the new sensations, once you come to accept your role. You see, this is the trouble with an entire kingdom of mice. Every member desires to be given orders, to be allowed to simply obey, to trust completely, to be free of responsibility and to put control of their own lives in the hands of a smarter, stronger creature, to have their will subsumed entirely by another's. Doesn't that sound like paradise, mouse?"
"That sounds..." the mouse clenched his teeth, feeling disgusted at what the lion was describing. There was a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, but at the same time, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his crotch and under his tail, while a faint sound of buzzing bees sounded in his ears. He swallowed hard and forced himself to finish his sentence, even though his voice quavered. "That sounds terrible."
"Set your tunic aside, mouse," the lion said, in a tone so smooth and confident that it can only be adopted by one who knows that his orders will be obeyed. The Prince hesitated, but his inclination to resist was overwhelmed by some other force - possibly his fear of the Emperor, since he was a lion, after all, and had just demonstrated his skill with his claws. He placed the wet garment on the floor beside him and turned to the lion. Leontius grinned broadly, recognizing a hint of desire for approval in the mouse's eyes, as well as a need for additional orders. He nodded his head and rumbled, in the same sure and even tone, "Now finish cleaning with your tongue."
There was not much of his accident left on the floor, since it had mostly been soaked into the shredded remnants of his clothes. The last bit of his piddle-puddle was a single spot that was smaller than his palm, but that didn't mean that he could do what he'd been told. The very thought made him shudder - but was it with revulsion? Without even thinking, his head began to dip towards the puddle on the floor, but he quickly pulled back. He was panting raggedly, still breathless from being so frightened, no doubt. His whiskers twitching as he stared down at the yellow circle. He would have to obey. Who knew what this terrifying and ferocious lion would do to him if he refused? It did not seem to matter that the lion seemed entirely placid, even serene, and posed no immediate danger whatsoever. It was the thought of the lion's physical presence that was in the mouse's head as it dipped to the floor and he began to lick up the last few drops of his puddle.
But by the time he had finished his task, the mouse knew that there had been much more to his motivation than that. There had been a part of him that thrilled at being able to obey an order like this. He had felt his body shiver as he pressed his tongue into his own still-warm urine. He had heard the lion's calm, authoritative voice echo in his head, and he had wanted to please that voice, to follow its orders. He had wanted to do as he was told. And now, he realized that he was feeling the firmness of his erection pressing against the warm, wet softness of his loincloth, as he panted and whimpered, horrified at the betrayal of his own body, to be so aroused by such an action.
He didn't want to accept what he had just felt. He wanted to believe it was some kind of trick that the lion was playing on him. He blinked and squeezed a few stray tears from his eyes as he shook his head and looked back towards the Emperor. While he had been completing his task, revelling in the humility of it, the lion had casually strolled back to his throne and was now seated there quite comfortably, watching the rodent with a satisfied expression on his face. The mouse stammered, shaking his head in helpless defiance, struggling to ignore the implications and power of his realization. "Nuh-no - no, no, no, no! This - this isn't r-r-right... you c-can't do this..."
"Hush now, little one. Come over here. Crawl to me, on your hands and knees. You can do it, Prince. Come now." The mouse shivered as he slid onto all fours and began to shuffle along the marble tile awkwardly, all the whine continuing to protest the tactics that the lion was using, frantically attempting to convince himself that everything the lion had been saying was a lie, despite the fact that he was doubting himself more and more with every moment. With every shuffling step he experienced a shiver of pleasure as he obeyed the lion's command and also felt his excited mouse-hood rubbing against his underclothes. When the mouse was at the lion's feet, the Emperor bent down, and there was another flash of his claws. The rope holding the mouse's loincloth was severed, and the wet stripe of fabric was drawn up in front of the Prince's face and pressed in between his lips, silencing his protests.
Once the damp, impromptu gag had been firmly forced into the mouse's muzzle, bulging his cheeks, the lion pressed his finger to the Prince's lips. "You must be quiet now, pet. It is time for you to silence the voice of what you have been taught. You must listen to your body. Listen to your ancestral desires. Listen to the call that has beckoned to your species since the days of the first mice, young one. These things will not lead you astray. They will show you what is true." A pair of huge, strong paws slid under the mouse's arms, and he was lifted from the floor. He quickly found his naked body laid across the lion's lap, face-down. One heavy paw rested on his back and held him in place. The other began gently patting the backs of the mouse's thighs.
"A mouse requires direction from an external source, this is undoubtedly true. Without it, he is simply adrift. A boat with no rudder. But this need not come only in the form of orders, oh no. In addition to being led, there are times when a mouse's behavior must be corrected. Mice require commands but also punishment; they are as important to your species as food and water are to any other. We have seen how much you have needed to demonstrate your obedience, already. Shall we see how much you need to be punished, for your decades of confusion and inappropriate behavior?" The lion's fingertips slid up the backs of the mouse's thighs, until he gently patted his palm against the soft curve of Pirithous's backside. He was forced to pause, momentarily, to marvel at something. "You have such an exemplary murine figure, Prince. You are svelte and lithe from head to toe - with the exception of your thick, full rump. It is so common in your species. I believe that mice developed this trait in order to maximize the effectiveness of these punishments."
Without any further delay or preparation, the powerful lion drew his paw back into the air and brought it crashing down on the mouse prince's rear. The whip-like crack of paw against flesh echoed in the room like thunder, but Pirithous felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. Having never been struck in his entire life even by another mouse, much less a lion, the physical sensation was shocking enough. But it was mental adjustment that occurred that really turned the mouse's world upside down. The lion's sheer physical superiority was undeniable, but the sudden stinging onslaught on one of the rodent's most tender areas unstuck something in his brain, and he saw the lion's wisdom and insight as well. The lingering parts of him that resisted the truth of what the lion was saying crumbled away. He knew that he had been bad, that he had not been behaving the way he should, and that he needed someone to correct his behavior.
The punishment continued, each powerful, blistering swat shaking loose more and more of the protective shell that his high-born position and his rigorous education had allowed him to cling to in an attempt to resist the Emperor Lion's claims. With that psychic barrier shattered, he felt exposed, naked, unprotected, shivering, and pink-skinned, but he also felt free. He was bawling as blows rained down on his bottom and the backs of his thighs, but he wasn't complaining about the fact of his punishment. He had been a bad boy, unwilling to recognize his true place, and he needed this treatment from someone who knew better. But at the same time, he couldn't have been expected to keep from reacting this way, since he was just a silly, pathetic crybaby at heart, after all. He sucked on the wet cloth gag in his muzzle as he sobbed.
It seemed as if the spanking lasted for hours. The powerful lion's arm never tired. When he finally relaxed, he drew the quivering, blubbering mouseboy up to his chest. One huge paw rested underneath the mouse's reddened, stinging rump, the other cradled the back of the mouse's head. Reflexively, the rodent buried his face in the lion's mane as he curled up snugly, drawing his knees in tight to his chest. His breathing was shallow and uneven and his backside burned hotly. His whole body ached and felt raw. The sensation that hung over him was entirely new, but the closest thing he could compare it to was the dazed afterglow following a particularly heady and powerful orgasm. For all he knew, he may have had one during his punishment. The lion seemed pleased by the mouse's behavior and rumbled deep in his chest as he rose from the throne and carried the Prince across the room, speaking softly as he went.
"You understand now, don't you? No, that isn't fair to say, I imagine. It's deeper than understanding. The truth was revealed to you at a level more primal than words can express. You know your place the way a warhorse or a hunting dog knows how to behave: innumerable past generations who understood your role guiding your behavior naturally, with a force that requires no thought, no consideration on your part. You had ignored your proper inheritance for too long, and that was very naughty, mouseling. But now you have been punished for your improprieties, and I believe that you have seen your mistakes for what they are. I trust that you will now be an obedient and eager mouse for your superior." He reached one of the walls and placed the mouse down on the marble floor, his knees wobbling as he struggled to stand. He gently tugged the gag from between the mouse's jaws and turned him to face the wall.
As the still-whimpering rodent turned, he found himself looking into a polished mirror, and saw his own tear-streaked, flushed face staring back at him. There was something different in his expression, something he could not quite define. "I want you to look at yourself, Pirithous. See yourself with unclouded eyes for the first time in your life." The mouse's wide eyes wandered over his naked, quivering frame. He saw the pristine, pure, snow white fur that marked the bloodline of the royal house. He saw his softly effeminate features, his full eyelashes, his pink lips, his rounded cheeks, his understated chin. He saw his lithe build, his dainty paws, his tiny waist and his moderately pronounced hips. He saw his unimpressive - in fact, his rather small masculine endowments, meager even for a mouse. He turned and looked over his shoulder as he saw his perky behind, still shining apple-red beneath his tail. He knew he was looking at the same figure he had seen every day, but rather than seeing a noble prince mere years from taking the throne and the command of an entire kingdom, he saw an adorably helpless and hapless figure, an infant struggling to lift his father's tools and swimming in a sea of oversized adult clothes.
Suddenly, there was a clipped, rumbling roar from behind the mouse. He turned and saw that Emperor Leontius had disrobed while the mouse was inspecting himself in the mirror. The mouse's own self-image, still fresh in his mind, was overwhelmed by the naked form of the towering paragon of feline masculinity and power. Rather than a veil to hide his embarrassments, as it is for most furs, the emperor's clothing was actually needed to protect those around him from being overawed by the sheer perfection of his unemcumbered physique. The mouse knew that the lion had been in many battles, had personally led troops into the fray on dozens if not hundreds of occasions, but his body did not bear a single scar or scuff from any of those encounters. He seemed to radiate confidence and strength, as well as agility, grace, wisdom - superlatives were superfluous. The thick, heavy, breathtaking pride of his lionhood was just as magnificent as the rest of him, still impressive enough to seem large even on his broad and regal frame, somehow. Like each of the muscles rippling over his body, it was the perfect size. Any larger would seem somehow unnecessary or indecent. His golden fur was very nearly luminous. His soft flowing mane made for a better crown than any jeweler or metalworker could ever hope to craft. He was quite simply, the apex of an apex predator.
The mouse's knees gave out first, buckling and sending him slumping forward. He landed on his paws, but it still felt as if some force was pulling him down further. Before he knew what was happening, his bare chest and forehead were each pressed to the marble floor. He hadn't even known that he was doing it, but he had naturally prostrated himself before a vastly superior creature. The position felt oddly natural, even comfortable. Leontious rumbled his approval and said, "Very good, little mouse. You should remember that pose. But for now, you may rise - onto your hands and knees, and crawl over to me. I want you to remember something that is surely still written on your heart of hearts, though you do not know that it is so. I want you to demonstrate your submission to your new god-king, to show him that you recognize your place and are eager to be obedient to his will."
As he crawled forward, his face flush with embarrassment and awe, he struggled to understand the lion's words. He didn't know what demonstration he could possibly be referring to - some ancient rite that had been lost? How could he possibly have known that? Just then, the twitching, golden-brown tuft of the lion's tail caught the Prince's eye, and he began to follow it, crawling around the lion's bare legs. His eyes followed the curve of that tail up from nearby his ankle, past his bulging calves and thighs, to the point were it rejoined the base of his spine, just above the pair of rounded, well-defined rump-cheeks. Before he knew what he was doing, the mouse had his paws on the backs of the lion's legs, and his muzzle was pressed into the crevice underneath the root of the lion's tail. He felt a surge of tingling fulfillment build in his chest and spread outward to fill his entire body as he slid into place. He took in a deep breath, feeling light-headed, and parted his lips to draw his tongue over the lion's tailhole, the pleasure of utter submission overwhelming any other reaction he might feel at performing such an act.
A massive paw pressed against the back of the mouse's head as the lion let out a deep rumble of approval, burying the tip of his muzzle deeper into that valley. Even though the rodent could not have known, the feeling of having a prince worshipping under his tail was very quickly bringing the Emperor to a state of fierce arousal. He felt his lionhood swelling, as if he was drawing out the Prince's masculinity as he debased himself. Of course, once the lion had reached his full size, it was clear that the mouse hadn't had anywhere near that much manliness to start with.
A forceful tug back on one of his ears let the mouse know that he should pull his muzzle back. He gasped deeply, taking in his first breath in minutes that wasn't tinged with an overpowering leonine musk, unsure of whether he preferred the cleaner air or not. His head felt fuzzy, and all of his thoughts were clouded by influences that seemed to be coming up from parts of him that he hadn't realized existed. As the Emperor slowly turned, his impossibly thick lioncock bobbed into view, and the sight of it made the mouse squeak in surprise if not outright alarm. What had been a singularly impressive set of endowments while soft had transformed into a jaw-dropping, mouth-watering, mind-blowingly well-proportioned hard-on, something taken from the land of dreams, seeming out-of-place in the waking world, where everything else seemed hollow and tarnished by comparison to it; the Platonic ideal of an erection.
While the Prince was staring in awe, the lion took his index and middle fingers and gently swirled them over the head of his lionhood, smearing with a slick glob of his pre-cum, which was loaded with a heady mix of scents and pheromones. He reached forward and rubbed his fingertips over the mouse's nose, pulling him out of his reverie of mindless ogling, but at the same time filling his nostrils with the concentrated, intoxicating aroma of imperial leonine majesty. He breathed in deeply, feeling that tiny hint of the lion's potent scent filling his lungs, but spread frustratingly thin. He needed more. His mind was barely functioning now, almost entirely overwhelmed by his submissive instincts, which - having lain fallow for two decades - were now anxious to make up for lost time. The mouse's body quivered as he looked up at the Emperor with a desperate, overwhelming need to serve shining in his eyes, as he silently mouthed, "I want - I need," unable to find his voice.
The lion nodded, in no way surprised by the intensity of the mouse's reaction, and dropped a paw to the base of his erection, wrapping his fingers around the root and squeezing himself gently. "You need to serve your superior, rodent. You need to show that you deserve our protection, our care, our help in fulfilling your true purpose. But more than that, you need to please me, don't you? I can see the look on your face. You would do literally anything, just for the chance to worship at my altar. You are in luck, Prince. I am a kind master. All I ask is that you recognize that you - and all of your subjects, in time - will need to wear special clothing, to ensure that you never forget your place. Surely that is not too much to ask."
Every second that passed while the mouse was unable to wrap his lips around the Emperor's lionhood made him feel more and more like he was drowning. He was whimpering helplessly as he sat there on his knees, his paws shaking. He mouthed the words, "Anything, anything," as he first shook his head and then nodded it, unsure of which would be the right way to agree with the lion's sentiment. He could barely even see straight. Suddenly, he felt himself being laid on his back on the floor, and his legs were lifted as his knees were pressed up towards his chest. He nearly felt as if he were dreaming when he saw the lion looming over him, holding a strange, pale pink rectangular-shaped object in his paw.
"This is the symbol of your helplessness, mouseling. You have already demonstrated how dire your need for it is. But it is more than that. Every day, it will serve as a reminder of your dependence on the benevolent protection and perpetual nurturing you require from those that are much better suited to the difficulties of self-reliance and of guardianship. You will submit completely, you will embrace your inferiority and revel in it. You can already feel how intense the thrill of total surrender is, can't you? Like nothing else in your impoverished life thus far, I'm sure. No mouse would choose to be a king, a leader, or even an adult, if they were given the option to simply serve. Wear your new badge of servitude with pride, my little mouse-slave."
The Prince gurgled and rolled his eyes back, feeling powerful paws lifting his legs, positioning him, moving him like a doll. He provided no resistance. He heard rustling noises that he could not recognize, but which sounded vaguely familiar. He felt something soft slide underneath his rear, then felt his thighs pushed apart, and the powerful lion used an astonishing amount of gentle care to tug on something at each of the mouse's hips. It took him several moments of baffled reflection to realize that he had just been placed in a thick, noisy, baby pink-colored disposable diaper. He blinked in astonishment, feeling utterly emasculated as his new undergarment hid any sign his mousehood in a soft layer of absorbent padding.. Despite the fact that he should have found this new development humiliating or even comical, he could only respond with a slight nod, realizing that this was precisely what he deserved.
He had almost forgotten his promised reward, until the mouse was lifted from his back and returned to his knees, and then he felt the tip of the lion's erection pressed against his still-gaping muzzle. The lion only had to touch his flesh to the mouse's lips, and the freshly-diapered rodent immediately pushed himself forward, enveloping the first few inches of the Emperor's lionhood in the warm wetness of his maw. The action was automatic, instinctual, and profoundly satisfying. The mouse had to open his jaw wide to accommodate the lion's size, but the fit was perfect. The tip pressed his tongue flat and dribbled that enticing, addictive pre-cum, which the mouse, immediately gulped down, eager for more. His lips formed a tight seal around the lion's shaft as he began to suckle, while he raised his eyes to look up past the broad expanse of maned, muscular chest to try and see the lion's expression.
That 'muzzle-down, eyes-up' look in the mouse's face was quite pleasing to the lion, even though his own countenance remained stoic, perhaps expectant. The only outward indicator of his reaction was the deep purr-rumbling in his chest, which the mouse could feel vibrating his lips, along with the steady pulse of his powerful heartbeat. The lion reached his paw down to gently brush his fingertips through the fur between the mouse's ears, and just this small gesture of recognition and appreciation made the mouse flush with excitement. Leontius could see it in his eyes. The once proud, even haughty mouse prince was no longer there, and the only thing he saw looking back at him was a simpering sissy submissive, desperate to please, excited by its own inferiority. He saw the boy finally becoming what he had always wished to be and never known, an obedient, helpless, natural-born little cocksucker slave-mouse.
"You are doing so well, pet. I am proud of you. Yes, you heard me correctly, your superior is satisfied with your performance, so far. But you are not quite done, yet. You must show me that you truly accept your new position, that you embrace your complete and utter dependence. Show me that you love being on your knees before me, that you want nothing more than to serve me. In return, I will protect you, I will give you the chance to fulfill your ultimate potential, as a mouse. Trust your care to me, little mouse, trust yourself, and your people, and your kingdom, into my hands. I swear that you and yours will be given everything you could ever need, even if you did not know your own desires until this moment. Can you show me how pathetic and inferior and helpless you are before me, mouseling?"
The mouse was drawing in wheezing, panting breaths through his nose, each one filled with the heady scent of the lion's crotch. He could barely keep up with the Emperor's words, and at first, he could not imagine what the lion meant for him to do, and he felt a flutter of panic. But again, his body knew what was expected of him. He felt the process beginning, deep inside him, and he couldn't help but emit a muffled groan. He fidgeted on his knees, feeling one final flicker of resistance, but it faded quickly. Surely this what the lion meant. What other act could possibly be more degrading, more humbling, or more humiliating? And why else would he have just put the mouse into a diaper?
The stone-like demeanor on the lion's face cracked slightly as he watched the mouse's eyes. He was unable to keep the corners of his lips from turning upwards in a triumphant smile. He could see every thought in the mouse's head as he realized what he would have to do, felt horror and shame at the thought, struggled to resist, only to have the pitiful inner rebellion sputter out in an instant, to be replaced with resignation, and then - ultimately - a kind of perverse excitement at the chance to so crudely demonstrate his utter submission. The mouse placed his palms on the lion's muscular thighs, just over his knees, to balance himself. He arched his back slightly, bending forward at the waist and pushing his backside out behind him. The base of his tail lifted, and he let out a soft, muffled grunt and a groan.
The mess came out into his diapers, hot and soft. He was immediately filled with the shame that accompanied such accidents in his childhood, memories of countless scoldings rushed past him, innumerable attempts at forcing himself to be in control, to learn to resist his natural instincts, but when he had moved past those frightening, frustrating thoughts, he found himself wallowing in his recovered helplessness and dependence, and found that he wanted nothing else. The act, while still superficially disgusting, was also liberating. He was free from responsibility, the state of his diaper was no concern of his. His only thought was to please the lion whose erection was currently twitching in his maw and dripping all over his tongue.
The lion watched down the mouse's back, able to clearly see the bulge forming in the seat of his diaper, the evidence of his submission plain to anyone's eyes, or nose, for that matter. He rocked his hips forward once, just sightly, as his lips curled back over his exposed teeth in a broad grin. "Yes, silly little mouseling. This is only the first of a lifetime of diapers for you. Your decisions will be made for you, from now on. You will have no priorities, no goals beyond pleasing your Master. At this moment, you are forever giving up your foolish attempts at independence, at self-sufficiency, at adulthood altogether. Those parts of you are useless to you now. Rid yourself of them, of all the aspects of Prince Pirithous that you no longer need. Push them all out, into your diaper. Show me how fully you are mine."
The chance to obey was impossible to ignore. The mouse was soon panting through his nose as he grunted with effort, his diaper bulging and drooping obscenely as his yucky waste spread over his behind, still pink from his spanking, while he continued to suckle and slurp on the lion's cock, drool running down his chin. When he finally finished, he once again felt his spirit soar in a way that felt almost like sexual release, but somehow more intense, more primal. The lion bent down over the mouse and reached a large paw underneath that sagging diaperseat, hefting the weight in his palm and gently pressing the load back against the mouse's backside, reminding him of what he had just done. The small rodent shook like a leaf while the lion chuckled.
"All the vestiges of your former life are right here now, mouseling," he said, as another firm pat elicited a muffled, shivering squeak from the messy mouse. "You have rid yourself of them forever, like so much waste. Soon, I will have you cleaned and changed, and the old Prince Pirithous will be no more." The lion stood back up, slowly dragging his fingertips through the mouse's fur along his spine, until he was brushing them along his headfur, then tenderly rubbing the mouse's ear in between a thumb and forefinger, while he gazed down at the mouse with a possessive and affectionate look on his face. "You will be mine, body and soul. My obedient slave, my pet, my toy. You will experience joy like you had never imagined, little mouse. This has been your purpose, since time immemorial. I believe that you will now need a new name and a new title, mouseling, since your old ones have no connection to your new life. From this point on, you will be my Princess Sissyphus, little one. In public, you will call me Master or Lord, but I will permit you to call me your Daddy when we are alone, if you wish."
"There is still one task for you to perform for me, my precious sissy Princess. But your velvet maw is so wonderful, I simply must show you one other thing that I imagine you didn't even realize that you could do." The lion's paw slid back down from the sissy's ear, until his palm was cupping the back of the mouse's head. With careful but firm movements, he rolled his hips forward and pushed down with his paw, forcing his way into the back of the mouse's muzzle and down his throat, while the Princess let out a soft gurgle at the ease with which it happened. In no time, the lion had worked his way until the mouse's lips were wrapped around the base of his thick cock, with that little pink nosepad buried in the lion's rough, brown crotchfur. He snorted and groaned and half-roared with pleasure, his breath growing ragged as he struggled to maintain his control. "The thrill you get... from obedience, my sweet Princess pet... is nothing compared to the bliss you will feel... from bringing your Master to orgasm..."
Later that very day, in the massive village square beneath the terrace, an enormous crowd was gathered around a raised platform, where the Emperor stood before them, once again dressed in his purple and gold finery. Beside him stood the Princess Sissyphus, who had since been changed and dressed. The former prince was clad from head to toe in pink and white, a vision of lace and frills and ribbons and bows. Instead of wearing a crown on his head, a flouncy baby bonnet was tied around his chin, and a large pacifier was placed in his muzzle, which he suckled on as if he had never been weaned. His paws were held close together in front of him, attached by a short length of chain and a pair of pink cuffs around his wrists, but they would not have been very useful to him anyway, since they were covered by a pair of snug-fitting mittens. His ankles were similarly cuffed together, and above his shoes his legs were covered with pale pink tights, which ended with a row of lace around his mid-thigh, where a prominent bow was tied. He was dressed primarily in a dress with puffy shoulders, a snug-fitting bodice, and a petticoat-rich skirt that nearly stuck straight out from his waist and utterly failed to hide his diapers, which were at least two and a half times as thick as the one that he had been put into in the throne room and which were now covered by a pink pair of plastic rhumba panties, themselves covered with a bounty ruffles on the seat and the crotch. His knees quivered as he blushed bright red in abject humiliation at being seen in this state by his subjects.
"Citizens! I am here to bring you a new age of peace and prosperity," the king bellowed from his place beside the mouse princess. His voice was easily audible to everyone in attendance. "Your princess has already agreed to join our two lands together, and he has pledged himself to me in recognition of leonine superiority. Soon, you will all know the joy of submission, but for now, simply watch your princess demonstrate the rapturous delirium of becoming a lion's babydoll mousepet fuckslave." He turned to the sissy and cupped the Princess's chin in his large, strong paw, rumbling down, "Present yourself on all fours for your Master, Princess." The front of his toga was already obviously tented.
The mouse nodded, slumping heavily onto his hands and knees, whimpering as he looked out over the crowd of astonished faces. Meanwhile, the lion knelt down behind where the mouse had settled, carefully tugging the seat of the Princess's diaper down, exposing his thoroughly-cleaned backside but leaving the rest of the outfit in place. He casually leaned forward and buried his muzzle underneath that tail, giving the mouse's virgin tailhole a few wet licks. When the mouse had performed a similar action earlier that day, it had been utterly submissive, but this was entirely dominant, and even kind - the lion was priming the sissy's backside for a rather difficult task. Once he was confident in his preparation, the Emperor raised himself up onto his knees and lifted the front of his robe, taking hold of his stunning erection and placing it against the sissy's rear entrance, while his other paw held the mouse's tail up and out of the way. With a rumbling, possessive grunt, he rocked his hips forward and began to bury himself in the mouse's backside.
The ease with which the sissy was able to accommodate the lion's entry was certainly an indication that mice were predisposed to being in this position. It took very little time at all before Emperor Leontius was hilted inside Princess Sissyphus, his hips pressed against the soft swell of the mouse's ass-cheeks. The initial pain that the mouse had felt when he had first been penetrated melted away almost instantly, like a late-spring snow. It was replaced by a steadily building sensation of physical pleasure and emotional fulfillment that not only surpassed anything the mouse had experienced in his life, but overwhelmed anything he had dreamed possible. The lion fit inside him like a key inside a lock. The sissy came, powerfully, into the front of his diaper, simply from the sensation of being so completely filled. His face was filled with transcendent ecstasy, as his pacifier dropped from his open mouth and he cried out, "Oh, Daddy!"
The lion leaned forward, purr-rumbling into the mouse's ear as he began to rock his hips, back and forth. His paw slide up and his fingertips brushed over the mouse's cheek and curled around his muzzle, where a finger slid between his lips, replacing the sissy's pacifier. The Emperor chuckled, but softly scolded the Princess, "I will have to punish you for calling me that in public, my pet." While he bucked his hips against the sissy's backside, groups of lions and lionesses began to move through the crowd, their arms loaded with supplies of diapers.