Hazardous Allure
Disclaimer: Don't read this if you aren't 18 or older (you're not supposed to be here in the first place, retard!) or if you hate The Lion King; why, I wouldn't know!
Ickles! It lives! NEVER have I seen a story like THIS before! Inspired by a fanart picture, one you can view at: http://www.lionking.org/~zirascar/fanart/kellogg/zira-simba.JPG, the following story. . . I can't tell you about, 'cause it would ruin the surprise!! Just a second, let me just SAVOR this moment. *inhales deeply* Okay, I'm done! Anyways, the following story, caused by the sighting of the afore-mentioned picture, (which isn't TOO good, in itself; the colors and eyes and all, and would seem really strange to be the center of a yiff!) is pretty dangerous, kind of like my Queen Tsarmina story, and probably shouldn't be read by the faint of heart, stomach, brain, eyes, blah blah blah blah. . .
On to the story!!
PS. If the hyperlink doesn't work, then just email me, and I'll get it to you somehow!
Hazardous Allure
All characters used in this story are © Disney; used, of course, without permission!
As he ran through the tall grasses toward the fire, terrified and mentally whipping himself for allowing Kiara to hunt by herself, Simba vaguely wondered if this was how his father felt, sprinting headlong through the savanna to rescue his son from a raging stampede of wildebeeste.
Unknown to him, however, Zira was heading just as quickly through the grass toward him, intent on catching the prideleader before he reached Kiara, with Vitani and another young lioness called Ezira at her heels. "Ahhh; there he is," the wicked lioness hissed to her companions. "Duck!"
Simba, hurtling through the grasses, felt his paw rake something soft, but paid it no heed until he descended heavily with a grunt into the dirt, six sets of claws embedded in his thighs and hindquarters, dangerously close to his malehood. As he lay there, however, stunned and in pain, two clawsets unhooked themselves from his flesh and Simba felt someone approach him from the left. Zira. He would recognize her scent anywhere, spicy and wild, almost arousing in its intensity.
Zira laughed wickedly above her fallen enemy, lifting his chin with a long claw before slapping him cruelly with all her talons extended. Simba grimaced, wincing in pain, and then, lifting his backlegs, kicked the dark lioness away and leaped to his paws. Yet, before he had even taken two steps, Vitani and Ezira brought him down again, biting savagely into his hindquarters, their warning growls audible in his ears. Zira, recovering from her enemy's attack, retaliated with a clawed kick to the groin, leaving Simba gasping with pain. "Fool!"
As the large, redmaned lion lay panting in the grass, Zira circled him. Simba bared his teeth angrily, but a backhand to the face left him reeling. Vitani and Ezira crouched nearby, grinning wickedly. Zira pounced on Simba, bit his throat, and rolled away, kicking him in the cheek as she did so. The Pridelands' ruler groaned and tried to attack her, but a snap from Vitani froze him in his movements.
Zira, claws extended, slowly straddled the lion, digging one set of claws into his shoulder cruelly. Glaring deep into his eyes, she grinned, flashing her long white fangs in a smile of triumph. Raising her paw, she snarled, "I have waited years for this!"
Watching in horror as his feminine archnemesis brought her paw down for the killing blow, Simba saw only one alternative to dying: Almost atop him as she was, the dark lioness's crotch was almost perfectly aligned with his. The thought of this was heated, almost erotic, somehow causing the lion's sheath to swell noticably. Simba hesitated briefly, wondering what Nala and Kiara would do if they knew, but, shoving his thoughts aside, leapt into action. It took only the work of a moment to shove Zira forward a few inches and then impale her on his firm shaft.
Zira gasped, her ploy foiled, the feel of Simba's hard spear sliding into her canal leaving her momentarily speechless and completely bereft of any murderous thoughts. "You bastard. . .!" she gasped, dropping her paw down to his other shoulder and gripping a pawful of his red mane. One moment she was shocked at the feel of the lion's shaft rubbing against her nether regions suddenly; the next she was pulled onto him with no warning whatsoever.
Likewise, Vitani and Ezira were both equally shocked, sitting down hard on their haunches as Simba raised his hips to pump the lioness they knew as mother and leader full of his huge, hot shaft. Vitani laid her ears back at the glazed look in her mother's eyes. "Mother. . .?" Zira did not answer, neither hearing nor wanting to hear her daughter's accusing voice. No rod had filled her so completely since Scar died; the feeling was indescribable!
Simba gritted his teeth at the feel of the dark lioness's warm and slickening slit wrapped around his lionhood. His broad paws slid down from her rump to her thighs, feeling her almost instinctively begin to ride him. "Gaaahh. . . wicked lioness. . . ungh!" Zira moaned involuntarily, rising and falling on the thick and hard member of the lion she had vowed to kill, her tail automatically raking across his furry pouch. Scar had always loved when she did that.
The lioness tried to slap Simba, tried to hurt him, tried to tell herself that this was wrong, that what she was doing now was going against everything she had ever felt and taught her pride. . . especially Kovu. Kovu! What was he doing now? Had he gone according to the plan!? Had he. . .
A wave of pleasure swept over Zira, and she bared her fangs in a roar, throwing her head back as she gripped Simba's mane, feeling him grasp her upper thighs in a similar manner. Vitani and Ezira covered their ears as the roars of the two lions voiced themselves in a deafening song of mutual delight. Both of them gasped as Simba's hot seed shot deep into her, and then Zira sent her tangy juices of climax exploding around their nether regions, soaking both their inner thighs and genitals, mingling with Simba's issue to create a sticky mixture of feminine and masculine.
The lioness moaned and sagged limply atop him, panting with the exquisite release she had just experienced, and feeling Simba's paws still wrapped around her rump. Then, with a sudden change of emotions, Zira's eyes widened and she leapt off of him, causing them both a bit of pain, as the lion's member was ripped from her and he was twisted in her. "You bastard! Filthy hyena! How dare you!"
She roared and swung out at him, but Simba dodged, shocked at her swift and unexpected mood swing. The lion scrambled to his feet, heading once more in the direction of the flames, his softening member retreating back into his furred sheath. Vitani and Ezira roused themselves and started after him, but Zira held out a paw. "No, let him go. He will make better sport for us once Kovu kills him. Come; let's go." The lioness's orange eyes were slitted and calculating as she trotted through the grasses, her twisted mind plotting fiery revenge against the lion.
Vitani and Ezira followed as silently as they could, the stench of sex still hot around them, and exchanged stunned glances with each other. "What was /that/ all about?" Ezira whispered.
Vitani had no answer.
**
Simba lay on his back inside the cave of Pride Rock. Kiara had been rescued safely. . . by a dark young lion named Kovu, Zira's son and her heir, named to the throne by Scar. . .
Zira.
His thoughts drifted back to that single heated and strange encounter in the savanna grass, with the smoke of the wildfire all around them. It had been a desperate measure he had taken, but it had ended up being pleasurable as well. Simba shifted as he remembered how the still-beautiful lioness had ridden him, her eyes soft and lustful, her paws tangled in his mane, their bodies sweaty with their encounter and the fight that had ensued just before it.
The rememberance of that evening aroused Simba. Turning his attentions to his stiffening member, the redmaned lion idly stroked his sheath until his shaft slid out into his padded paw. Caressing the base, Simba stroked the tip of it, coaxing a small drop of warm pre out. Zira, the lioness who wasn't supposed to have a single kind bone in her body, had been foiled.
What was it, he wondered, that had made Zira into such a brutal and hateful lioness? Was it simply the thought of bloody revenge toward Simba in retribution for Scar's death that had twisted her mind into what it was now? Or was it something else. . .
Simba thought back to an event he had witnessed years ago, before he had been banished from the Pridelands and before his father had been killed. One night, the evening he had spent with Mufasa and learned about the great kings of the past in the stars, Simba had watched Scar head off into the savanna by himself. Thinking that the darkfurred lion was simply going off to hunt, Simba slipped away from Pride Rock and followed Scar, wanting to see the lean lion in action, as he had never seen Scar hunt before.
But what he saw was no antelope, or zebra, or gazelle. It was a slender young lioness, dark of fur but utterly beautiful. The look in her eyes as she slipped out of the grass to nuzzle against Scar's mane told Simba all he needed to know. His uncle had taken the young lioness into his arms, kissed her, and made sweet, gentle love to her under the moonlight, a scene that would forever remain etched in Simba's memory.
Scar had called her Zira, and she had seemed to be his true love, the only beast he had ever shown affection to. He had been in love with her, Simba remembered, his throbbing shaft forgotten, deeply in love with her, and she with him. The thought brought stinging tears to his eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt lump into his throat. That was it. That was what had killed Zira's soul, the sight of Scar's nephew hurling her beloved to his death.
"Oh. . ." Simba moaned, putting his paws to his eyes. "Father. . . what have I done!?" The lion wept, tears streaming down his face, wetting his cheeks and lips.
It was his sobbing that drew Nala into the mouth of the cave. "Simba, what is it?" Taking her mate into her arms, Nala held him as he sobbed on her shoulder, stroking the back of his head reassuringly. "What is it, darling?" Simba, tasting the salt of his tears on his lips, managed to sob out, "I killed him, Nala. . . I killed Scar, my own uncle, Zira's mate. Oh, what have I done!?"
He dissolved into sobs once more. The golden lioness holding him closed her eyes, gathered her weeping mate closer, and began to sing in a clear, quiet voice:
"Deception
Disgrace
Evil as plain as the mark on Scar's face
Born in grief
Raised in hate
Helpless to defy her fate
Let her run
Let her live
But do not forget what we cannot forgive
And she is not one of us
She has never been one of us
She is not part of us
Not our kind
Someone once lied to us
Now we're not so blind
For we knew she would do what she's done
And we know that she'll never be one of us
She is not one of us"
"You see, Simba?" Nala asked, once she had finished her calm song. "Scar's greed for power destroyed his reason and sanity toward anything else. Had he been allowed to live, he would have corrupted his sons and daughters, and kept the cycle of grief going. He had to die, Simba, or the circle of life would have been disrupted, and with disruptions, comes anguish."
"As for Zira, I can understand her pain. I felt the same way when Mufasa died, when it was said that you had died, too. But I put it behind me; I went on living, although it wasn't easy. I felt as though my heart had been ripped out; I just wanted to die. But, instead, I went on. Zira's held onto her grief. But now it's destroyed her reason, and look what she's become. Tortured by demons, driven by her lust for revenge, fueled by her memeories of Scar, Zira has fed her cubs the same thing that she fed herself when Scar died: "You are the enemy, Simba. Everything she has had to go through, every hardship she has had to endure is because of you." This is her belief, and she will go on living it to the end.
"If only she would give it up, put it behind her," Nala continued, "then her heart could be mended. But she has refused to do that in waging war on you, and so that will be the death of her, her rejection of the truth in favor of the lies she believes."
Simba was listening intently to his mate's words, the tears drying on his cheeks. He had never heard Nala speak so eloquently as she did now, and the golden lioness, seeing his resolute expression, finished her little speech: "You did right in taking Scar's life, Simba. I only hope that, through Kovu, this cycle of grief can be ended once and for all."
The redmaned lion smiled, rising and cupping his mate's chin in his paw. She was right, and so beautiful. He was lucky to have her love. "Thank you, Nala. Thank you so much." Gathering her into his arms, he embraced her, kissing the side of her neck as he did so. "I've had so many doubts, but you have chased them all away."
Pulling back a bit, he cradled the lioness against his chest. "There's something else I have to tell you, Nala. . ." he murmured. The golden she-lion gazed into his eyes. "Yes, Simba?"
The redmaned lion told her about his unusual tryst with Zira in the savanna, expecting to be met with flames of jealous hatred, but was shocked when Nala began to laugh. "Oh, Simba!" she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You must have been pretty desperate to escape!" Simba began to laugh with her, but his chuckles were suddenly stifled by Nala's mouth covering his.
She bore him down to the floor of the cave, laughing when she broke away and saw that her kiss had stimulated him to an erection. Simba blushed like a cub; Nala did that to him more often then naught nowadays. "Well," the golden lioness purred, straddling her mate, "don't let it happen again or I'll have to 'punish' you." Simba smiled, about to ask what the punishment would be, when Nala dropped down onto his stiff shaft, making him jump and gasp in shock.
Grabbing two pawfuls of his thick, dark scarlet mane, the lioness began to ride him expertly, bucking back and forth on his leonine pole and squeezing him with her nether muscles. "Unngh. . . I'm gonna ride you until you beg for mercy, you naughty lioncub," Nala growled as Simba grabbed her rump. Flicking his tongue out at her peaking pink nipples, the lion grinned mischievously.
"When that happens, you'll be an expert swimmer," he groaned.
The End