King-Sized, Part 1 (Patreon)

The Pridelands are suffering a drought, and there may be a rather unorthodox way to fix it for Simba, who starts thinking about how a king ought to look. This one got a little bit away from me in setting up the plot, but hopefully it whets your appetites as much as Simba's. Enjoy, and see you in March for part 2!

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The sun was bearing down on the Pridelands with an oppressive heat, the savannah parched and dusty. There had been no drought like this to hit the realm for many years, and the subjects of King Simba were starting to get desperate as streams and rivers dried up and watering holes turned to mud.

"Still not a cloud in the sky…" Simba muttered, scanning the horizon.

"Hush!" Nala snapped, then glanced back at Simba. "...Sorry, my king."

Nala signaled the other lionesses to close in on their prey, a massive wildebeest, a half dozen lions slinking through the tall, dry grass. Simba, now king for a number of years, insisted on coming on these hunts- it was better than sitting on Pride Rock, hearing petitions and pleas for water he didn't have. Nala arched her back, spear in hand, ready to pounce, just when the wildebeest turned its back to her…

And then Simba let out a warrior's cry, leaping from his hiding place, spear and shield in hand. The lion slammed into the wildebeest, getting in a solid hit to its side, but the huge beast panicked, knocking the king off- immediately, the other huntresses rushed to their king's side, and Nala could only stare helplessly, shoulders slumped, as the wildebeest ran away, out of reach of her spears.

She turned to her husband, trying to keep her temper in check. "Simba, I thought we agreed we would attack on my signal."

The kingly lion shrugged, reassuring the others he was unharmed. "I thought it was going to attack you!"

"It's a wildebeest, Simba! Not an enemy warrior!" Nala snapped, then groaned. "...Perhaps we should have a private discussion. To go over a new hunting strategy."

The other lionesses looked first to Nala, then to the king, who nodded, sending them away. Now alone, the king and queen of Pride Rock stared at each other awkwardly, Nala putting a clawed paw to her forehead. "Simba…"

"I know- I know. I'm not the hunter my father was," the king said quietly, slumping his shoulders.

Nala's mouth twisted. "It's not your fault. You never had the training I did. But Simba, it's not even your duty to hunt- you're the king. You protect us from outside threats- the lionesses take care of the food."

"Mufasa hunted with the lionesses," Simba said defensively. In the king's mind, if his father had done it, it was the right thing to do. He ruled exactly as Mufasa had- but then, there had never been a drought during Mufasa's days.

"Well, Mufasa isn't you," Nala shook her head. "Look, why don't you-"

"Please, Nala, don't give me a task to make me feel like I'm doing something. I'm not a kid." Simba grumbled, folding his arms as the lion leaned against a tree. "I already feel useless as it is."

Nala bowed her head. "I'm sorry. But nobody thinks you're useless, Simba. It's not as if anybody thinks you're to blame for the drought."

Simba scoffed. "Then why can't I do anything to fix it? This never happened when my father was alive. But when Scar was in charge…"

"Scar brought in whole hyena packs and overhunted. The drought that came after just made things worse," Nala said, placing a paw on Simba's shoulder. "But it's different this time. Yes, things are tight, people are nervous- but you were the one that ordered the elephants to dig that extra reservoir when the river started drying out. You've organized the tribes to make sure everyone gets fair rations- Simba, you're doing a good job. You're a good king."

Simba smiled half-heartedly as he and his queen gently bumped their heads together. "Well, thank you." He sighed. "I suppose I'll get out of your way- I'll see you back at Pride Rock."

Nala's reassurance only lifted Simba's spirits until he got to Pride Rock and could overlook his domain- and see all the dry, dusty brown plains stretching to the horizon. Zazu, still serving as Simba's majordomo, bowed low as he approached the king. "Sire, there is a lioness here seeking an audience. She's not part of our court- should I send her away?"

Simba waved the blue-feathered courtier off. "Send her in. Not as if I've got much to do…" Things were simpler when he just had to overthrow his wicked uncle.

Zazu bowed again, and then swooped down the rockface, only to return some moments later with a powerfully built, impressive lioness. She bowed respectfully to Simba. "You are King Simba, of the Pridelands?"

The lion nodded. "I am. You're not part of my pride- where do you come from?"

"I serve King Mafuta, he leads one of the largest prides in the Northern Highlands. He has heard of the Pridelands' drought, and he would offer his aid."

Simba's eyes widened. "Really?" But then, he frowned, stroking his chin. He had only ever heard of the Northern Highlands, particularly their strong mystical tradition, and his father had spoke of King Mafuta- it was ages ago, but there was a hint of disapproval, from what he remembered. Still, what other choice did he have? "I'll be happy to meet with him."

Traveling to meet with Mafuta would take a day; with Zazu in tow and two of his closest confidantes, Timon and Pumbaa, to join him later. The lioness sent by Mafuta, Mwindaji, served as their guide across the dry plains of the Serengeti. As they traveled out of the Pridelands, Simba noticed the trees and grass were a degree healthier- the land wasn't flourishing, but hadn't suffered as much as the Pridelands.

"Have you seen rain here, Mwindaji?" he asked.

"Not as much as we would like, sir," the lioness replied. "But our King is certain that will change soon- we all remain optimistic, he's never been wrong about these things before."

Simba's brow arched. "Really?"

Mwindaji looked back to him. "Not once, sir." She looked about the area; they had stopped by a small stream, near an outcrop of rocks. "This is as good a place as we'll find to set up camp for the night- with your permission, King Simba."

"This will be fine, yes," Simba nodded.

Mwindaji bowed her head again. "I will go and hunt something for dinner, by your leave. We've heard of your prowess in battle, so I can assume I need not worry about your safety until I return."

"Right- of course." Simba sent her off, and Zazu perched himself on one of the nearby rocks.

"Well, at least they understand proper etiquette in the Highlands," the majordomo commented. "She's been a model of good manners- but still, I will warn you, sire, the Northern Highlands are… strange."

"Strange how, exactly?" Simba asked. "I only know they've never threatened the Pridelands- wasn't father on good terms with them?"

Zazu nodded. "His Majesty was friendly with them, but there was something about them he found… disarming, I believe. They carry out many rituals in the North- of a mystical nature, so I understand. Nothing disturbing or savage, Sire, but… strange."

"Do you know anything about Mafuta?"

The bird shook his head. "Alas, no- I came to my position shortly after the last time King Mufasa ever met with this Mafuta. At the time, he seemed to view him as… indulgent, I believe. I rather got the impression Mafuta let his lionesses run the kingdom for him."

"Well… what sort of help do you think he's offering?" Simba asked.

"Oh, undoubtedly he'll send food, or help divert some water to us- but be warned, Sire, there's almost always a price to these dealings with other monarchs," Zazu counseled. "I personally suggest never accept the first offer he presents- it allows him to set the price."

Simba nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Mwindaji soon returned with a fresh kill, and they ate well. It was a quiet and still night, so Simba was able to slip into a deep sleep with little effort.

He was comfortable- too comfortable to move. He was sprawled out on soft, lush fronds and grass, his eyes half-lidded. The only thing that brought him out of his stupor was a sound he hadn't heard for a while- the sound of rolling thunder. He opened his eyes and tried to stand, but something was weighing him down.

"Oh, you're awake!" Nala purred. She pressed herself against Simba's side, and instantly, the lion was struck by just how much give his side had- how hard was she pushing into him? "Have a nice nap?"

"I…" Simba's nose twitched, smelling something delicious.

"Hah, don't worry," Nala said, patting his stomach- and again, that feeling of how much give she had on him. Was she slapping him? "I have just the thing for you to keep up your strength- after how hard you've worked to bring the rain back, I'm not surprised."

"I- I did?" Simba blinked, and then, as he tried to sit up, it struck him- he was enormous! His belly alone was a gigantic boulder of soft, doughy fat, his chest two inflated masses that sagged over the crest of it. Every part of him was bloated and prone to jiggling at the slightest provocation- his arms were swaddled in layers of fat, and his plumped up legs slumped listlessly at the side, splayed apart as his stomach demanded as much room as possible.

Simba breathed in sharply. How did this happen? He grabbed two fistfuls of his own flab and let out a small whine when he saw how much they rippled across the profound expanse of his belly. He was starting to panic as he started rocking back and forth, squirming as he tried to stand- but as the wind was knocked out of him from the effort. He fell back, landing on his opulently cushioned rear end, and a strange sense came over him. Again, his nose twitched as he recognized the smell of zebra- his favorite.

Right, yes, he was remembering properly, now. The drought was long in the past, and he had saved the Pridelands again- and now, he could do what any proper king did in a time of peace and plenty. He chuffed softly, idly rubbing at his oversized lovehandles, his mane hiding his multiple chins. He grinned, dimpling his round cheeks as he relaxed, and tossed a chunk of meat into his hungry maw…

"King Simba? King Simba!"

Simba snorted awake, looking up at Mwindaji. "Huh? Sorry- I was… deep in a dream." He glanced down at his athletic build, and breathed a sigh of relief- even if he could go for some of that zebra right about now.

"It's just after dawn- if we want to reach the Highlands on time, then we should get moving."

"Right, right," Simba muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "Don't want to keep Mafuta waiting…"