Mufasa's Bigger Role (Patreon)

Mufasa's always been a big star, but now that he's going up for his most famous role in a Lion King remake, there's always room for more! Thanks for your patience and support, everyone- stay safe!

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Once again Scar went over his lines, reciting the iconic “everything the light touches” quote with anoble flourish and splendor. It had only been a week since the Lion King remake was announced and he was determined to play the king himself this time. This was his mission now, this time it would be him in the spotlight, and now he had twenty five years of practice under his belt; twenty five years of playing villains. Finally, this was his opportunity to break the mold he had been in for decades. Within his trailer he poured over the entire script as old memories on set flooded back. Impassioned by nostalgia, he had perfected his performance, every inflection on point and the air of a wise father upon him. When Scar left for the day, he was assured that part was his, until he made his grand entrance on the studio lot, and immediately came across a familiar face.

"Mufasa!?" he gasped in disbelief. Not now!

Strutting through the back-lot was his old co-star, the King himself. Three decades had done nothing to dim the golden feline’s handsome features and sculpted physique. Beneath a white v-neck, his chest stretched the fabric, the sleeves ready to burst against his toned biceps at any second. When he came to greet his old rival, Scar could see his sculpted thighs rolling beneath the jeans. Sporting a few grey hairs and wizened eyes, Mufasa had aged like a fine wine. The old cat put an arm around his lankier brother and grinned. “Scar! What brings you back here?"

It took him every effort to put on a grin and speak with a friendly purr. “Why, for auditions of course. I presume you’ve come for the same reason?”

“Of course,” he said proudly. “That movie launched our careers, if I didn’t give it a shot, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”

As the two strolled through the set Scar had to keep from rolling his eyes. With a snarky edge, he almost growled. “Well then, best of luck to you, old…”

Just as he was about to give a polite excuse to leave and sulk, his on-screen brother stopped. Confused, Scar peered around Mufasa’s powerful frame to see him sneaking a donut from a food table. It was a tiny thing, but just as the remake reminded him of their first days on set, it reminded him how the bigger lion had been quite the glutton back then. Naturally, it took a mountain of calories to maintain his muscles, but even back then the director had to keep him from overloading it, lest he ruin his figure. After all, a blubbery mound of lion hardly inspired the image of a mighty king.

Inspiration struck him like a thunderbolt. That’s it!

With a sly smirk, Scar hatched his plan. If he could play his cards, it would be all too easy to blimp Mufasa up and sabotage his chances for the role. As if on cue, his old costar was eyeing up the table, considering whether or not another treat could hurt. He was practically begging to be fattened up.

Voice dripping with courtesy, the dark lion put a hand on Mufasa’s shoulder and made his offer. ”Brother, it has been too long. Why don’t I treat you to lunch, and we can catch up?”

Mufasa just gave a friendly smile and chuckled deeply, “I’d love to!”

He was subtle at first. Reservations were made at Mufasa’s favorite steakhouses, 5-star restaurants and esteemed beachfront grill-houses. It was expensive, but it was just the hook to get Mufasa into a bulking mindset. Already those strained button-ups were competing with a domed paunch as rare-cut steaks slathered in barbecue sauce, catch-of-the-day and gourmet burgers disappeared into his maw. Whenever the owners heard the famous Mufasa was coming to dinner, they were all too eager to shove their choice dishes in his face for the glowing review. In mere weeks, his waistline had exploded in size, inches piling on nearly as fast as the pounds, but Scar was nowhere close to done. After each dinner came a parade of desserts. They were always dainty little art pieces that couldn’t satisfy a mouse, but it only took a taste of sugar to get the king back to old habits. Every night on their way home, Mufasa would be licking his lips and begging to stop somewhere for a milkshake or a smoothie.

Soon Scar dropped the pretense of anything fancy and simply pushed the golden feline into café’s and bakeries before, after, and even on break from work. Faster than even he anticipated the old Mufasa was buried under a bloated caricature of his old self. His once powerful chest now sagged over a mountain of a gut that hung below his knees, his toned arms had been buried under calories incarnate, and the cocky swagger with which he once carried himself had shifted into a clumsy waddle. Soon, whenever he dragged his brother to lunch it took two or three chairs to seat his bulbous rump and chunky thighs. Every time he reached a swollen paw out to grab a cupcake or ice cream his entire frame jostled, the fat competing for space with roll upon roll of fluff. And as the king started to out-eat even the hippos and elephants on set, the snack tables grew larger and more decadent to sate him, a circle of feeding that all but guaranteed Scar’s victory.

Or, so he thought.

“I- I’m sorry, what? You were cast as the King, again?” Scar’s composed façade shattered at the news. In Mufasa’s trailer, the corpulent king reclined on a wicker bed, rubbing the mound of his belly after gorging himself yet again. With his kingly physique laid to waste he wasn’t even fit to play an extra. It made no sense. Scar was barely holding back a growl. “How do they expect you to heft yourself to shoot an entire film when you can barely walk to the desert counter without losing your breath!?”

“Shoot?” Mufasa asked through chubby cheeks, a dismissive grin forming dimples as he chuckled, “Of course I can’t do anything on set, look at me!” To emphasize he gave his stomach a smack, sending ripples through his fatty middle and lard-laden love handles. “Scar, they aren’t doing any filming, the remake is animated!”

All the wind in Scar’s sails vanished. Eyes wide, his face falling, he simply stood there as the rage in him withered. Seeing this, Mufasa rolled against himself a few times to get up, the weight of his footsteps shifting the entire trailer. Throwing a blubbery arm over his once again defeated brother, he offered in his iconic, smooth voice. “Come on, no hard feelings? Tell you what, how about I treat you to lunch for once?”