Nuka's Explosive Rise- Part 4 (Patreon)

Sorry for the delay there, folks- Nuka is here to show you all what a real lion king looks like, and dares anyone to tell him otherwise, while building himself into his own Pride Rock. Enjoy!

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Nuka had thought on this for a long time.  What would he bring back to the Outlands to prove, once and for all, who was really worthy of being King? The titan of a lion had a mountain of trophies from his various conquests across the Savannah, but all of them lacked the right message he wanted to send— but then, with one last mighty boost from the amulet now entirely swallowed up by his jaw-dropping, mountain-shattering brawn, he had the perfect idea. His mother would never be satisfied with his strength and accomplishments, not when her perfect prince was still being groomed for Pride Rock— so if the Outlands pride would not get to Pride Rock, Nuka would bring a Pride Rock of their own to the Outlands.

With a mighty roar, Nuka swung his heavy fists and split a mountain down to the sediment, and then, with the all the might and power he could muster, hewed it out of the earth and carried it back to the Outlands, the lion casting a vast shadow with his prize. He had forged himself into the mightiest lion in history, he was certain— where would they ever find a match for his strength? From a gangly and weak creature, he had grown into a beast that was the ultimate apex predator; the sheer size of his overgrown muscles beggared belief.

His earth-shaking legs sent tremors with each step, thighs thicker around than baobab trees, and twice as dense, the immense boulders of his quadriceps rolling off one another. He was wider than he was tall now, thanks to the sprawling tapestry of burly, bloated muscle sprawled across his mesa of a back, engorged flanks jostling his canyon of a chest, and enormous arms, bloated triceps as heavy as lesser elephants, and biceps that rose higher than  mountaintops. 

A rich, full mane now adorned Nuka, thick tufts of black hair running deep across the gorge his beefy pecs made— the picture of a king, if ever there was one. He spotted the Outlands pride encroaching to see this walking mountain. As they drew closer, his muzzle split into a smile, his jaw hitting the crest of his pecs, as he hefted the enormous chunk of earth in one hand and flexed his arm for the benefit of his family, pumping muscles of such dizzying scale and density he could stone merely by bending his arm. Let his mother's precious prince have Pride Rock and Simba's meager scrap of glory— Nuka was here to show that whatever he wanted, he could take it— and no one was strong enough to stop him.