FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story is a COMMISSION! If you want your own, personalized story, Click here

Support me on Patreon for novel chapters, snippets, and more exclusive content!

Because normal lessons are just too mainstream :P. This story has been commissioned by a person whose desire is to remain anonymous. You might wonder why. I can provide an answer for that, but I'd rather allow the story to speak for itself.

Yes, it's Lion King fanfiction, and yes, it features a few kinky kinks such as waterworks (Just a tiny bit in the beginning), and rape (Right at the very end). The story is obviously not centered around these kinks. There's quite a few laughs to be had, along with exciting lessons in mating. For those who do not wish to partake in the depiction of the (arguably) disturbing scenes, I will include a warning in the story to let you know what parts to skip.

That would be all. Enjoy, but please check the tags first. I don't want to be responsible for any unpleasant scenarios that might result from premature curiosity xP

***

Simba woke up with the annoying need to pee. He blinked his tired eyes and looked around. The luxurious vegetation was still basked by the moon's light, and every living being was asleep aside from a few pestering insects buzzing around the nearby bushes.

Simba shut his eyes and tried to ignore his embarrassing need. He wasn't a cub, especially not one afraid of the dark. He waited a minute, two, five. The sensation was pounding beneath his tail and the dizziness of waking up in the middle of the night made everything worse.

"Timon?" Simba asked softly.

The meerkat snored, lost in his blissful dreams. Simba crawled towards him and poked him in the chest, careful not to rouse the larger warthog resting behind.

"Timon!"

"Yesh, what's it?" Timon mumbled sleepily.

"I have to..." Simba licked his muzzle uncomfortably.

"Sleep, yes. Go back to sleep."

"Not that. I have to pee."

"Yish, that's dangerous!" Timon jumped on his feet and sunk his hand into Simba's chest. "Dangerous when you go at it alone. We all know what happened last time."

Simba rolled his sleepy eyes and followed Timon to a nearby tree. The darkness was not so bad when he had a friend besides him.

"Here is far enough. Do your thing," Timon mumbled.

==Waterworks scene starts==

Simba lifted his tail and turned around.

"Maybe you can turn that other way to-"

The lion cub unleashed. Warm urine sprayed from his tip, splashing in a lazy arc. It got on the leaves, the ground, and in a beady line across Timon's belly.

"Sheesh, I told you not to point that at me!" the meerkat groaned and dug his fingers into the cub's rump, pushing him closer towards the tree.

Simba was completely careless for a feline. He sat straight on his paws instead of crouching, and got his urine everywhere.

"I can't believe I have to help you with this too," Timon muttered to himself as he grabbed the cub's plump sheath and directed it away from the tree.

Simba didn't mind that. He was too sleepy to care, and with a satisfied sigh he emptied himself of all the water. It flowed in short bursts, wetting the ground and vegetation without any pesky droplets flying around.

"Done yet?"

"Almost," Simba yawned.

Once the stream stopped, Timon squeezed the sheath of any lingering droplets and wiped himself on some nearby ferns. "Always glad to help you, sire," he muttered sarcastically and walked towards Pumba's warm belly. He crawled underneath, closely followed by the lion cub.

==Waterworks scene ends==

"Thank you, Timon."

"No problem, fluff-head," Timon nodded and closed his eyes.

Simba did the same, though not before wiping the moisture off Timon's belly with a paw. He felt a bit embarrassed for that, but tiredness allowed no room for rumination. Simba yawned, then fell asleep, cuddled in a pile with his dearest friends.

***

The next day involved travel. Timon mentioned some tasty grubs hiding in the underbrush of a nearby oasis.

What he forgot to point out was the desert separating the trio from the promised meal.

"Stop flicking it that way."

Simba walked ahead of the grumbling meerkat. The ground was arid and hot under his paws. Small clouds of dust rose after every step, dispersed by the tufted tail swishing behind the lion cub's body.

"Annoying."

Simba took another step.

"Pestering. Distracting."

He didn't stop. A small breeze did wonders in this heat, and Timon's complaints were a small price to pay for the sake of convenience.

"Bothering, infuriating, fluffy and squirmier than the grubs I eat for breakfast."

"You can walk at my side, you know," Simba looked behind. "Nobody forces you to stay behind me."

"Oh, but I love to," Timon said, catching the pesky tail with a wide smile. "I like the view."

"What view?" Simba frowned suspiciously, tugging his tail from the meerkat's grip.

"Oh, the usual," Timon played with the reddish tip and looked around, acting all innocent.

"Hasn't sounded that way for the past five minutes," Simba retrieved his tail and kept walking forward. "You keep complaining about my tail when this heat is giving us no relief!"

"Relief, mhm," Timon chuckled. "That's a good word. It gives me...ideas."

He retreated further behind to share a quick laugh with his lazy warthog friend.

They were up to something, and Simba knew it.

"What are you guys plotting?" he asked, annoyed.

"Nothing, nothing," Timon waved nonchalantly. "Bother your fuzzy head with the oasis ahead."

"It's still far," Simba grumbled and trudged forward, placing one paw ahead of the other. He was tired, thirsty, and desperately needed something fun to keep his mind occupied. He looked around the dry lands, catching only dust and the sun's glare inside his eyes. He squeezed them shut, then opened them as thumping steps approached.

"Something on your mind, lad?" Pumbaa asked with his big, silly smile. Timon was standing atop his head, scanning the area with his keen eyes. Or at least pretended to. Simba caught those same pale eyes on his tail several times already. Now that was suspicious.

"Not really," Simba's ears perked suddenly and pointed a paw at Timon. "But your shifty eyes are giving me ideas."

"Shifty? There's nothing shifty about me!" the meerkat laughed.

Pumbaa couldn't stop a grumbling laughter from escaping his throat. Soon, both of them started laughing, making the lion cub even more suspicious.

"You two are on to something."

"And that something is you!" Timon leaped on Simba's neck and gripped his perky ears for extra balance. "You see, my buddy and I were talking about...things."

"Things?" Simba turned his head around, revealing his tiny fangs. "I'm your buddy too, Timon!"

"Oh, you certainly are, my dear lion, but you are still too young for certain topics."

"There are things only parents can teach to their sons," Pumbaa added.

He got an angry glare from Timon, but the damage had already been done. A tear rolled down Simba's cheek, and he struggled to suppress the sniffles.

"Now now, no need for that, my friend," Timon rubbed Simba's neck. "Past is past, no more important than the dust below us."

Pumbaa approached too, scratching the lion's neck with one of his tusks. "I'm sorry pal. I said something stupid, and-"

"I'm fine," Simba said, raising his voice as a growl rumbled in his throat. "And I will feel better if you guys start trusting me more. I am not a cub anymore!"

"Your size dares to disagree-"

"Timon!" Pumbaa interrupted.

"What? I was just pointing out-"

"Not now!"

"Yes, now," Simba turned his head around towards the silly meerkat. "You tell me right now what you laughed about earlier, or I will shake you off and run to that oasis on my own!"

"Well..." Timon and Pumbaa looked at each other, then bowed their heads in agreement. "It might have involved adult talk."

"Adult talk? What's that?" Simba frowned, confused.

"Mating. The size of the equipment hanging below your tail. That kind of things."

"Timon!"

"What? We agreed to tell him, you stupid swine!" Timon leaped off and slapped his companion over the ear.

"Yeah, but not so sudden. You will scare the poor cub off."

"I'm not a cub!" Simba snarled. "And I'm not scared. Just...curious," he admitted, looking behind and bending in all sorts of ways to see if he could glimpse something.

"Not like that, Simba."

"Then how?" the cub asked, frustrated.

"Just walk," Timon sighed." I'll talk and walk you through the details."

Simba nodded and kept on walking. Timon sunk a hand into his fur, advancing slowly towards his rump.

"You never talked mating with your parents before, have you?"

"I didn't get the chance," Simba admitted. "My father might have mentioned something in passing, but...I don't remember," he shook his head.

"Don't even have to. I had the pleasure of thinking on this topic a fair number of times."

"Why?" Simba swished his tail as Timon scratched his rump in a most bizarre way.

"Because you're interesting. And because your gender is so very obvious."

"How is that important?" Simba asked.

"Well, being male gives you extra strength," he caressed the muscle of a flank. "A mane when you grow older," he slowly advanced towards the base of Simba's tail. "And these," he grabbed the golden pouch resting underneath the lion's tail. "Those give you power."

"That tickles," Simba kicked a rear leg, brushing his sack against Timon's prodding fingers.

"And this?" he cupped the cub's small sheath between two fingers.

"Feels kind of strange," Simba said. His tail rose higher, and a shiver ran through him when his skin was gently pulled back. A presence slid inside his sheath, stretching the leathery walls and tickling his innermost flesh.

Simba growled and shuddered. His muscles flexed, and the presence suddenly pulled back.

"That must have tingled," Timon chuckled and suckled on his slimy finger.

"It did, but why are you touching me there? It's gross!" Simba turned around and dropped on the ground.

"Not when you grow older," Timon walked around him. "Everything will grow bigger, including these two," he poked Simba's balls with a foot.

"And? What if they grow?" The little lion asked, sensing there was more to be shed on that particular topic.

"You will feel the urge to mate, among other things," Timon said.

Simba frowned. Timon was being cryptic. Again!

"What is this mating you two keep talking about?" he growled with frustration.

"It's...It's... Pumbaa, help me out a little."

"No can do, pal. You agreed to teach him."

"Fiiine," Timon kneeled beyond Simba and placed both hands on his flanks, spreading them apart. "I'll need your help to demonstrate."

"Tell me already. You kept me waiting since-"

"Promise not to bite or claw my eyes out?"

"I promise," Simba sighed. "Just tell me."

"Your words, my hands," he said and gently touched Simba's sheath. The lion yucked in disgust and turned his head away.

"Hey. Eyes up here."

"It's gross," Simba protested.

"No it isn't. Felines like you are very clean."

"Did you even smell me down there? It's-"

A coarse shiver made Simba's claws leave their sheath. Something unreasonably warm traveled along his balls and climbed over the tip of his member, leaving his equipment wet in the sun's basking rays.

"I did, and now I licked it. Clean, just like I said."

"You're gross," Simba spat in revulsion.

"And you aren't paying attention. Watch and listen."

Simba was too curious to allow something so small to distract him. He watched Simon's deft fingers as they played along and between his small sack. He liked touching the twin spheres underneath, but only lingered when he reached the sheath above them. Then, he pulled back gently, forcing the flesh to retreat just a little until a sliver of pink emerged out of the moistened tip.

"Mating is when this little thing here goes into the female's other thing."

"Which is called a vulva," Pumbaa added as he approached. "Or a vagina."

"And yours is called a penis, rod, member, mating tool or whatever. Just don't use the word cock. That stands for male chicken," Timon pointed out with a raised finger.

"I know what those are, but..." Simba's words slowly trailed off as he stretched his neck towards his small nub of pink flesh. He looked at it, squinted his eyes, then gently touched with the soft dusty pads of a paw. "I still don't know how I can mate."

"You're still a cub," Timon removed his paw. "Like I said, you'll get bigger and your little rod will grow like this size!" He spread his palms, making Simba's eyes widen with surprise.

"And how does that help?"

"Well..." Timon scratched his scruff. "Lets just say females love big boys."

"What about you? Are you big?"

The question caught everyone off guard. Timon shrugged, while Pumbaa laughed out loud.

"Show him, teacher. Don't leave any page unturned."

"Yeah yeah, very funny," Timon turned his gaze away from the silly swine and crawled towards Simba's head. "Do you really want to know more?"

"Of course!" Simba said eagerly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Timon splayed on his back and lowered a hand to his tawny groin.

Only now Simba noticed the two brown spheres hidden underneath the furred sheath lying just between the meerkat's legs. He hasn't paid much attention to genders. Boys were boys and that was it until Timon started expanding that topic.

"Like what you see?" The meerkat asked with a sly smile.

"Kind of," Simba lifted a paw and pressed it between Timon's legs. He spread them apart, gasping softly at the warmth of pads pressed against his sensitive sack.

"They move...and it's warm."

"Wait until you see this," Timon stroke his sheath. A pointed rod pushed out of the shelter. Unlike Simba's, it kept expanding, shivering strangely and bobbing its way out of the expanding sheath.

"It's growing!" Simba retreated back a few steps.

Timon grabbed his erection firmly inside a hand and looked back. "This is as big as it gets, buddy. No reason to get scared."

"It's big, and..." he took an involuntary breath, then covered his nose with a paw. "It smells strange."

"You will smell strange too when you're aroused."

Simba blinked, pondering on that word.

"You see, when males reach a certain age, they become excited," Timon waved Simba to approach, then grabbed his balls when he got within range. "What's inside this shelter of yours will grow big and sensitive until it releases everything that's inside here," he squeezed his balls for emphasis.

Simba flinched uncomfortably and slapped his tail. "And what's in there?"

"Seed," Timon explained. "It's like...a liquid that shoots out when you are very aroused, and it feels good. Better than anything you ever experienced."

"Sounds gross," the cub mewled, making Timon go all wry-faced.

"Will you stop with that word? It's natural, and it will happen to you, to me, to Pumbaa, and every male on this land."

Simba shook his head. "It's still gross."

"Well too bad, because that is how you were made."

"I was born and brought to my parent's den by a-"

"An eagle, yes," Timon sighed. "That's what mothers tell to their cubs when they're too young, but that is not the truth."

"Timon..." Pumbaa intervened.

He held a palm towards the warthog. "Don't. He needs to hear this."

"I'm not sure if I want to," Simba rolled on his belly and watched Timon's throbbing rod with both disgust and fascination.

"You'll know regardless, because at some point you will make little lions too."

"I won't!"

"Yes you will," Timon pressed. "You will find a nice, needy lioness, and you will forget everything you ever knew."

"That is not true."

"She will be in heat, and your instincts will overwhelm your mental chatter. Every single thought you will have will center on mating your female."

"That can't be right. I can choose what to do!"

"You can choose how to have her," Timon said, thrusting harshly into his grip. "Hard, like a king, or quick," he increased his pace, rubbing the slimy length inside his clutch. "And when your senses melt and your muscles tighten, you will roar your greatest cry and cum inside her harder than you ever did before."

Simba shut his eyes and covered them with his paws. "No no no no. It sounds too strange. I don't like this mating anymore."

"It's alright. You don't have to like it right now," Timon patted the young cub between his ears.

Simba appreciated the gesture. He sighed softly, enjoying the soft caress around his ears and the soft scratching on the sides of his muzzle. Timon's scent entered his nostrils with every breath, tangy and more savory than he remembered. He whiffed it again, and again, trying to find a similar match until the meerkat hugged his neck.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, little Simba. I got a bit carried away with my story."

"It's alright," Simba nuzzled his friend. "I can still defeat you in combat, small as I am."

"True that," Timon pulled back and rubbed an arm under Pumbaa's chin. "That's why he does the fighting and I do the thinking. When we're not running, that is."

They both burst into laughter.

"Nothing is faster than a scared warthog!'

"Or a horny meerkat!" Pumbaa quipped.

Simba joined in the merry laughter. His heart felt lighter, and he wondered how he became irritated at Timon in the first place.

"Since we're still on the topic of mating, I think it's worth inspecting my friend's arsenal."

"Don't ever think of-"

"Oh come on, you old swine. Shed that grumpy face and be happy. We're teaching Simba one of the most important aspects of survival."

"How to nudge the enemy's balls? Yeah, I'm sure Scar and his hyenas will tremble in fear when the rumors of a ball biter reach them."

Timon fell on his back, hardly containing the laughter raging out inside his clutched belly. Simba smiled too, but he was more curious on what lay underneath the big warthog. He asked Pumbaa's permission politely, and when the warthog bowed his head, Simba dashed underneath him. He pawed at the furred tuft on the middle of his belly, then followed the soft leathery cordon until it reached two heavy balls.

They were absolutely huge, larger than what Simba ever saw before. He pawed at them, then rolled on his back, clutching them between his front paws.

"Looks like you got a new admirer Pumbaa," Timon joined, peeking his head under Pumbaa's wriggly tail.

"They're so big..."

"And yours are so little!"

SImba growled as his jewels were firmly grabbed between two eager toes. He lashed out with a paw, hitting Timon straight into his own spheres.

"Yaaah! Theyre...sensitive!" The meerkat fell on his knees, hands around his groin.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know!" Simba prodded around with his nose. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I will be," Timon nodded. "Just give me a minute. Play with yourself or something."

That's exactly what he did. Simba retreated a short distance away from his friends and curled on the parched ground. He pushed his head underneath a flank and sniffed around his male parts. The stench of urine irritated his nostrils, a bitter flavor compared to the sweet miasma that graced his nostrils after Timon rubbed himself. Could it be as simple as that?

There was only one way to find the answer. Simba rested further back and slid a paw along his silky belly until he reached his tip. Then, he started rubbing softly. He felt nothing for the first minute. Then, five minutes passed, and his fingers felt tired from all the flexing and kneading. No matter how he touched, he could not bring more than an annoying itch to his small, sheltered tip.

He growled his frustration and scrambled on his legs. Timon and Pumbaa were in a heated conversation over something. Simba didn't pay attention to the words. His eyes were too focused on the pink growths dangling below their bellies, and his nostrils too busy in analyzing the bizarre scents.

Simba shook his head and approached. Timon's hand retreated from Pumba's cock, letting his spiraling rod fall unceremoniously under his tangled tuft.

"What were you guys doing?"

"Just sharing some opinions."

"And theories," Pumbaa said between heavy breaths. "Timon thinks you are ready for your next lesson, and..."

"And he agreed," Timon nudged him hard in the snout.

"What is the next lesson?" Simba approached tentatively.

Timon stroke his pink shaft until he reached the base, then grabbed his balls inside a cupped fist.

"It's quite...ahh...easy," he said through a soft gasp. "You got acquainted with the sight and feel of a male, and now you have to experience the smell and the taste."

"Yes," Pumbaa smacked his lips together. "That's important. Vital. Start with him."

Timon didn't know if he was being made fun of, but he took the lead. He closed the distance between him and Simba and lowered his tapered cock until it met the lion's pink nose.

"Be gentle," he said, and with that he released his grip.

Simba closed his eyes when the moistened flesh slapped the top of his nose. He drew back, involuntarily inhaling that tantalizing aroma of male musk. His blood quickened a little, and something inside him urged a different course than running away scared.

Simba had no idea what to do. It seemed too gross to clean another male's equipment, but at the same time so exciting and different. He took another breath, delighting upon the strange tide of Timon's aroma before he touched the tip of his tongue to Timon's pointy tip.

Flesh met flesh in a jolting touch. Simba drew his tongue back, while Timon's member bobbed upwards, stirred by the unexpected stimulation.

"Try...try again. More tongue this time."

Simba complied. He dashed out his saliva coated tongue and slid it across half of Timon's length. A surge of heat surged through the hardening flesh, forcing the meerkat a step back.

"G-good. Keep going."

Simba needed no further encouragement. He pushed the erratic member against Timon's belly and assaulted it with repeated licks. Timon shivered and gasped, digging his hands into Simba's short fur. He scratched hard every time he licked, melting in the intense stimulation with drawn out huffs. The barbs were particularly stimulating to his flesh. Simba attacked with long, drawn out licks, rolling his tongue all the way from Timon' squirming balls towards his thin, pointed tip.

He only lasted a few strokes before he stumbled and fell on his back, moaning fiercely.

"Too-Too much," he whimpered, clutching his privates.

Simba licked his muzzle. The taste matched the scent. It was equally sweet, and somewhat enticing. Hardly what the young cub expected from such a dirty spot.

"You did good...too good."

"But I-"

"Shush," Timon scrunched his eyes shut and pointed towards his companion.

"Go to him and do the same. See if he lasts as long as I have."

Simba went towards Pumbaa. The warthog already dropped on his side, presenting his half aroused member in all its glory.

"You don't have to go easy on me, lad. Clean it thoroughly."

Simba nodded and started from the warthog's humongous balls. He liked how squishy they felt compared to their size. He licked the soft skin with quick dabs of his tongue, tasting the bittersweet aroma coating them. It was somewhat salty, a taste Simba didn't particularly favor. He used his paw to massage the orbs instead. Pumbaa grunted approvingly, kicking a hind leg. His member too throbbed something fiercely.

Simba took interest in those silent, powerful throbs. He pressed his muzzle against Pumbaa's hard sheath and licked quickly. The flesh underneath was tougher than Timon's, and far larger and smellier. Simba closed his eyes and slowly advanced towards the tuft ahead. Even through the messy hair he noticed the pink of Pumbaa's cock. He advanced quickly, determined to finish his task.

The scent vastly increased when he found slimy flesh under his tongue. Simba bit back the cough and slid his tongue back out, flicking it quickly over the twitching baton. It was a mess of curls and spirals that throbbed out of their own accord. Pumbaa enjoyed every lick, slapping his cock against Simba's hungry tongue each time he tensed.

"Closer. Take the head."

Simba shook his muzzle. His whiskers were thoroughly coated in slime, and Pumbaa tasted something fiercely. He held his breath while he glided above the straightening tip, then cleaned it with broad strokes of his barbed tongue.

The warthog surrendered to the unchained bliss with a mighty squeal. His cock tensed and pierced inside Simba's muzzle. The little cub panicked. He pushed the fleshy mass out, rubbing the oversensitive tip all over in his desperate rush. Pumbaa hardened, and hardened, until his cock became stone.

Then, he pulled back. Simba too jumped behind, spitting the warm liquids that filled his muzzle. They looked like saliva, but tasted sweeter.

A lot sweeter.

Simba swallowed everything and cleaned his muzzle. He was half dazed from the intense musk, and his eyes had problems focusing. He saw Pumbaa scrambling on his legs, followed by an eager Timon.

"He's ready," the warthog grunted between heavy huffs.

"Yes...yes he is," Timon agreed.

They both walked towards Simba, their erections as obvious as their drooping balls.

"Ready for what?" Simba asked.

==Rape scene starts here==

Timon reached him first. He ruffled the cub's head, gripping behind his ears. Simba liked the massage. He noticed Pumbaa walking around him, sniffing eagerly for something. Those sniffs stopped once something warm poked Simba right below his tail.

"The final lesson," Timon said, then pushed Simba's head towards his hard, throbbing cock.

Simba opened his muzzle to mewl, but instead got a full load of flesh inside his mouth. He choked, barely making sense of what happened when a weight pressed against his back. Simba didn't have to crouch. He was already small, and only noticed a brown shadow before something hard prodded at his tailhole.

He looked back. Tried to, if Timon's hands didn't hold him into place. Simba slapped his tail, but the presence barely faltered. Once it aligned itself to his sensitive hole, it pierced in deep, shattering any resistance.

Simba yowled in pain. It was big. Too big, and far too long. His muscles stretched to their very limits, forced to accommodate the thick presence invading the young cub's sanctuary. It slid unrestrained, gushing out slimy squirts with each throb of its moving, wriggling shape.

SImba took another breath. It was easy now once the cock retreated from his throat. Yet the promise of freedom fled as quickly as a heartbeat. Simba's breath was hot, and his tongue overflowed with slick saliva. His muzzle was firmly secured, a tight and perfect place for any eager male to fill. Timon thrust and moaned, grunted and huffed as he explored the fleshy reaches of Simba's throat. He pushed back with all he had, yet his tongue only added to the meerkat's pleasure.

"I'm going-going to..." Timon drawled out.

"Not before me. Gah, he's so tight!" Pumbaa gasped with delight and thrust deeper into Simba's virgin hole.

The pressure took him like an arrow. It split his insides with crackling pain, and Simba cried out in agony. He was too small and sensitive for the fleshy mass filling him. The throbs were bad enough, pushing and pressing against his overly stretched muscles, but the gushes of fluids were the worst. Those built up inside with no way of oozing out. The added head and the unbearable tightness made the warthog explode with a blissful grunt. His seed rushed out in a drenching wave, pressing deep into Simba's squirming tunnel.

The cub's breath caught. Hotness enveloped him, and for a few seconds pain was replaced by an eerie, tingling pleasure. He tightened hard, forcing out the excess seed between the smallest of crevices. Pumbaa's fertile ooze gushed out in straight, hard spurts, overflowing from Simba's tailhole like a fountain of cum.

Timon noticed that. With a long yowl, he buried him as deep as he could and unleashed his own load. Simba choked on the sticky fluid as soon as it came out. Ropes smashed and fell down his spasming throat, swallowed promptly by the desperate cub. The need for air became dire, and the seed came out quicker than he swallowed. Timon had too much inside him, and Simba spat hard, splattering the meerkat's gooey seed everywhere.

Timon didn't mind. He pushed out, then slid back in, scratching his heated itch on SImba's tongue. The poor cub had no choice but to take it in. He was being filled from both ends at the same time. Seed dribbled from his tailhole and seed flowed down between his teeth, dribbling on either side of his muzzle until the tumultuous rivers turned into small trickles of lingering fluids.

Pumbaa pulled out, quickly followed by the spent meerkat. Simba blinked. His paws gave in immediately after, and the hot sand embraced him.

** ==Rape scene ends==**