Chezzy wasn’t one to complain, but he was quite literally on fire. Well perhaps that second part wasn’t precisely correct. The cherry tomato red furred feline ran his snow shaded gloves through his dark aqua blue hair, combing away sweat as the heat of the sun above baked him like a casserole. He’d removed his white top hat which also felt hot to the touch. It did its job in offering a bit of shade, but by god, the brim was too narrow to beat back this African sun.

	The tomcat of a feline stood on the back of the tour boat Matata just under an awning as almost everyone else seemed to be bearing this much better than him. His boots stayed stable under him as the Matata crawled along far slower than the sun took to set. He let out a low gah of exasperation, as he may have found himself proving the first part of him not being one to complain also not precisely correct. Mind you Chezzy had dressed for the occasion he was heading to, not realizing the transit logistics were not quite in line.

	Snappily wearing head to toe primly cut white button down jacket with a ruffled chest piece, he was dressed to the nines, which all told, the digits of the temperature were in the high nineties by his reckoning as well. Sweat dripped from the tip of his blue hued nose and along the stripes of the same coloration that ran along his body continuously, even nearly to the very tip of his tail.

	All of his clothes were some shade of white as it was a formal look when you’re arriving to show some sense of prowess to your latest endeavor. Chezzy was to receive some kind of inheritance from some of his long distance relatives. He wasn’t particularly aware of any real customs, but thought it proper to not show up in a shirt and sweatpants to some manner of ceremony. It was just his luck though, nice as he was attempting to present himself, that he didn’t quite realize his relatives lived nowhere near the airport.

	He in fact found himself on a sweltering taxi ride, that went to a scorching bus trip, a deeply blistering walk to finally make it to the waiting boat that would take him downriver to meet his relatives at their place of living. Chezzy was the first to bemuse that most distant relatives are not so far away as this, though he was rather confused how in fact they’d managed to track him down at all, given that he was warned there was no service this far out. It had been two hours since he’d last seen a cellphone bar.

	The Matata continued itself along as it pushed down through the winding riverway that hid much at the water’s edge of tall grass and reeds. All told, being able to come to Africa of all places was rather incredible. In fact based on Chezzy’s limited understanding, the area he was in was a bit disputed between different tribes, so it was a strange not quite a country at all strip that his relatives lived on, and had for a long time. A war torn kingdom long ago as they put it, Scar’s land or some sort of war scarred area. He hadn’t particularly studied much of the dialect and local history, but feline tribes had been in these parts since before history books.

The oral traditions that had passed along from what he’d overheard some of the tour guides mentioning were that there was a great war many many centuries ago, and it was some sort of familiar family bickering that came to a head. Betrayal, assassination, even hints of magic and other nonsense as Chezzy’s attention was drawn more towards the spectacular beauty of these lands. All told, the wildlife that was still around the area was rather incredible. He was warned that several feral crocodiles prowled the rivers, so as to not lean over the railing as much as Chezzy was in fact.

The feline stared at the murky waters as a pair of yellow eyes appeared beneath the surface. Massively huge, the size of dinner plates and a smile that shown an unnatural parade of teeth as the more Chezzy watched it, the more it reflected his red fur and seemed to take the shape of a lion under the water. He barely noticed that he’d begun to slowly lean down towards it, putting himself at incredible risk.

From beneath the surface those haunting eyes were disrupted as a secondary pair spotted Chezzy, splashing free of the surface as a set of jaws the size of a car door nearly came to try and break for the neck of the feline. Chezzy’s frame instinctively reacted as he let out a sharp yowl of fright that betrayed the scaredy cat that likely made up more of his heritage than he’d ever admit. Tumbling backwards on the deck, splashed with a multitude of water, Chezzy heard the laughter of the ship’s captain and a few of the tourists, who pointed and laughed. The hungry crocodile that had attempted the sudden attack was gone almost instantly beneath the water’s brim, leaving Chezzy to look back behind, searching for either pair of eyes that he’d seen. Instead, crestfallen, he saw his hat floating along the river for a moment before sinking below.

Dripping wet from the violent commotion, Chezzy brushed himself off and pulled off his gloves, squeezing them a bit, worried this may cause them to shrink. He was every bit worse for the wear save for the wetness at least cooling him a tiny bit. For the remainder of the trip, Chezzy vowed to not look over the railing again.

After three days and two pit stops at local villages, Chezzy was told he was nearing where he needed to be. This area of Africa was known locally as the Pridelands, likely Chezzy surmised due to whatever bickering happened between the monarchs long ago. Or perhaps they just took pride in tourists arriving miserably hot and in clothes that made them look like a frightful mess. As Chezzy wasn’t ever able to get a proper answer on how long it would take for the journey, he’d packed fairly lightly, a small suitcase only carrying some rather plain clothes by his otherwise high standards.

He was not a fool though, having ruined his suit, he’d rather have clean clothes for meeting everyone else, after all it would be better than going naked. That’s just the mark of a lazy feline. Yes, it’s quite nice in the heat, but wearing clothes did make him feel rather superior to his own baser nature. After all, he was an animal, but there was no reason to act like it.

By the time Chezzy worked himself off the boat and gave a small pittance of a tip to the workers that had at least gotten him here safeish, he’d found the village didn’t actually quite meet his expectations. Not only were the low end huts that he expected fewer in number, he almost immediately spotted a few houses and a municipal building of sorts. He sneered a little bit as off in the distance, driving away, was also that of a bus. Something was lost in translation, as his three days on a boat was not at all the best route he could have taken.

However his scorn was met with a very friendly greeting from not too far away, as appearing from one of the huts, was a lioness, her own fur matching close to Chezzy’s as there was a hail and wave “Oh Chezzy! You did make it! Everyone will be so happy!”

Introducing herself as Nzuri, she was a tall lion with pierced ears. She wore a light shirt, the very same kind that Chezzy thought would be too informal to greet her with, but was tucked crumpled inside his luggage. He let out a small sigh as he approached her, at least this would finally have him out of the heat. Chezzy waved back and moved closer, his paw over his eyes to shield the sunlight. He was correct in his actions earlier, wringing out the gloves had shrunk them far too much, leaving him just looking all the worse.

“Hello, Nzuri, it has been a long journey, but yes, I have made it here, to the Pridelands, though they didn’t quite give me the name of your village correctly I suspect… or I would have come by bus. I apologize for the delay, it was avoidable.” Chezzy said with an eye roll as Nzuri moved close to give him a warm embrace. The last thing he needed was more warmth, thought Chezzy, but still he wasn’t so impolite as to not return it.

“Nzuri, you must regard my state of dress as rather … poor. I am embarrassed to say but I had a bit of a long trip and I am rather worse for the wear. I don’t suppose you have a bath or perhaps something I can wash my suit with?” Chezzy inquired as he started to follow Nzuri who beckoned him to follow moments before the question.

“The river would do well to provide you both as you ought to bathe yes perhaps before we head to the ceremony. You are just in time, I’m certain the other members will not mind you preparing yourself a bit as the heavens right now could smell you. Here… “ Nzuri said, dipping herself back into her hut for a few moments, coming out with some herbs, fruit, flowers, and odd plant leaves in a bowl. The concoction was already partially mashed and gave off a sweet smell along with a familiar one that Chezzy simply couldn’t place under his own, all too now immediate fragrance. “Make sure that you rub these on all your parts, all of them, don’t miss a single centimeter!” the lioness said before spinning Chezzy around back towards the river. 

“In fact, knowing the ceremony, this may just be what you need to feel refreshed before you receive your inheritance. Many of the elders wish to speak with you later, but we must make you presentable.” she stated plainly, offering only a quick shooing so that Chezzy could scamper out of the range of her nose. Perhaps that close hug was her mistake, but regardless Chezzy did feel all the embarrassment. He wasn’t close to what he wanted for a first impression.

Moving towards the edge of the water, Chezzy found himself leering around for another crocodile as there was a familiar murkiness. He was slightly less afraid when a pair of local children informed him there was nothing to worry about until evening came, the crocs were likely avoiding the sun or basking in it, either way, Chezzy just needed to be done with this sooner rather than later. It was as Chezzy stepped into the water, that piercing set of eyes watched him from below, as he threw his clothes to the side of the riverbank. The mud could do no worse to his white suit at this point, he himself needed the scrub. They were all but gone.

It was a little bit of stirring in the water that made Chezzy nervous, slight bubbling and then stillness, as he convinced himself it was just a fish. Never did he see those same leering orbs of vision staring fully underneath, watching from a long distance, yet they were right there only a few feet away. Gazing and judging as he began to take the sweet smelling mixture and move it along him. Nzuri must have been nice enough to place a sponge with the half churned sloppy, but nice potpourri of different things. Chezzy’s paws soaked it up and he began to scrub himself completely, his naked body taking itself to the river and letting the grime move downstream.

The sensation of deep cleansing and scrubbing really made Chezzy feel better, losing himself to the moment as he would take the mixture and work it all over his striped matted fur. This was desperately needed, he thought. In the corner of his mind, something whispered for him to continue as it was commanded. His own ego perhaps he thought, as he wanted to nail that second impression entirely. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes from the good half hour of lathering that he’d forgotten entirely about the warning of evening setting and the crocodiles coming out.

His eyes snapped open as he’d lost track of time, darting around with his eyes as thankfully the sun was not quite set and he plunged himself under the water one last time to wash all of the lathering away from his fur. As he went underneath the surface, something again moved in his mind, as he opened his eyes from below the water, seeing a pair staring towards him.

They did not belong to any reptile, they were now clearly visible as both feline and otherworldly, as they rippled with the motion of the water. A large smile formed as it seemed to stare at him. The two felines grew in a stillness of time, as the bathing tomcat’s body began to ache all over. Something in the mixture seemed to be reacting with them now. The eyes leered at Chezzy, watching as he flailed in the water, somehow itching. Chezzy’s claws came out and scratched at himself wildly. Something in his mind told him to get it off, but he wasn’t sure what.

Emerging soaked from the water and dropping to the riverbank on his knees, his claws pulled at his fur a bit as that mixture seemed to not only lather but cling to him now. Its pleasant scent hung to him like a necktie that was on too tight as it was all he could smell now. Crawling back on all fours to the edge of the river, what he saw was startling beyond measure.

His carefully trimmed hair, matted though it was, with its cherry coloring and shock blue striping, was falling out in front of his eyes. Underneath, the skin didn’t just look like it was having any small reaction, but it was glistening like it had been soaked for all its life in a jar of oil showcasing a ruddy tan coloration. As the sun started to set, it glowed off his body now, gleaming like that of a piece of jewelry.

Chezzy’s form continued to feel so strange now as he looked at his muzzle starting to reform, something happening that he couldn’t dare explain as his face began to protrude further than his normal feline snout, pressing along to reshape into the clear visage of a lion… no, as his eyes drew some measure, it was a lioness. Chezzy’s stomach churned in pain.

His bowels were shifting in odd ways as he gasped deeply. The air however was so strange, as it went into his mouth, he could actually feel it starting to rush through his entire body, as though somehow, it were hollow entirely. Impossible he thought as the lioness’ face stared towards his reflection. He placed his paw up to inspect his face, watching as the lioness in the water did the same. The shock on the eyes matched them both as he looked down now, his body not only perfectly smooth on his front side, but that smoothness carried on well below, between his legs, where his maleness ended. Another gasp where he could feel the air, Chezzy let out a shout.

“I’m a female!? A lioness? What kind of insanity is this??” she roared, her words carrying out into the still of the air as the sun finally started to dip beneath the horizon. Beneath the water circled danger however, as there was some mixture of blood and fetid scent to draw attention to Chezzy of a terrible variety. She was staring at her reflection long enough that by the time she turned her head to look for her clothes, it was that distraction that allowed the crocodile to breach the waterline, lunging for her.

With what Chezzy could only describe as a deep seated instinct, the attack happened in such a slow motion, that she wheeled herself around, sharper and larger than claws than ever attached to her leonine paws as they met the lunging crocodile’s throat. The spray of blood was momentary against Chezzy’s skin as it felt so slippery, she felt so slick without it to begin with.

Those eyes under the water watched as the offering of violence sank beneath the bubbling surface, a single decisive killing blow as somewhere distant, a decision was made.

“She is perfect.”

	Chezzy’s body dripped now as she tried to stand up from the river but another startling change had taken place. Her form was unaccustomed to two legs now, she was not only a female lion, but entirely built for striding on all fours, like one of her much older kin. This was unacceptable, unheard of! She huffed as she circled around, craning her head to examine her body, it didn’t just feel as flexible as a slinky, it also underneath the skin, belied a real power to her frame.

	Her ears perked however, deeper within the village, a steady loud drumming was happening, it must have been the ceremony… What was it? Chezzy was not sure, but there had to be someone that could answer her. There was chanting as her body ran towards it, singing, the bright light of a bonfire. Several of the villagers were gathered around as the pyre danced almost in rhythm with their cries. Chezzy’s tan form stalked outside the circle, staring in to just see what if anything she could before interrupting.
	“Zeeeee raaaaa Zeeeeee raaaaa Zeeeeee raaaaa” the words repeated in praise and adulation as Chezzy looked towards the villagers, every single one of them that was at the ceremony was a lion or lioness. All of them fully grown, the children must have been in bed, though the noise no doubt made sleep difficult. Chezzy watched as the adult villagers all began to remove their garments and then in something far more startling, as easy as removing a shawl, they slowly, carefully, removed their pelts.

	Their fur, their skin it seems, came off without any manner of hesitation, slipping down to the ground like one removes a pair of pants, laying there without any manner of support. The felines one after another pulled back their outer coatings, revealing in the heat of the fire, the same sheened bodies that Chezzy had now garnered, save that they were still all on their feet without issue.

	Chezzy stepped forward and tried to speak, but what came out was a loud roar that startled even Chezzy as the rest of the villagers looked towards her with no surprise, as if she was in fact, exactly where she needed to be. They chanted as her mind felt like a ball bouncing in a room, the chanting and drumming growing louder now as the pyre flared up as she entered into their circle.

	“Zira! Zira! Zira! Zira!”

	That wasn’t just a word thought Chezzy, something in her mind really started to say it again and again, with a familiarity. They weren’t merely repeating it. It was directed at her. She was being addressed. Zira was her name or her title. As soon as that thought hit her mind, Zira realized some deeper truth, as her jaw dropped, the very same eyes appearing in the fire so many times as she’d seen in the water as well. She stood there dumbfounded, Zira… Chezzy… why did Chezzy sound so distant… Was it someone she knew? Zira lost all sense of time as the eyes grabbed her gaze again. The pyre spoke with the voice of a king.

	“And so with the spilling of blood in our river, mistakes washed away, Zira you have your promised inheritance. We were cursed to never walk these lands again on our own feet. But after much waiting, we have found a lovely pair that had never set foot here before today. And now they are yours. And with that, bid me forward my pride, let your king reclaim what is his. These Pridelands, my kingdom… your lands!” The proclamations, the odd phrasing, shaking Zira’s ability to focus as the rest of the glistening villagers walked steadily towards the fire. Their limbs lifted towards it without fear as Zira watched some of them almost sweating on what should have been a terrible flame. But the more they stood without pain, the more their bodies dripped, the fire itself began to battle against the shared mixture of all their glossy forms. Soon enough, there was a sizzle of smoke as the fire was engulfed by the will of the tribe.

	From that very bubbling pile of dark black ash and their oiled red skins, a shape began to shift and move from under the soot and embers. The fire itself was snuffed out, but Zira watched in shock as those very real eyes she’d seen again and again, emerged into reality. The shape of a giant of a lion, towering seven feet hunched over, and nearly just under the size of a small room, only his presence lends itself to more size. The very smoke swirled around him as his mane wetly slapped against his body. Scar was finally alive in the Pridelands and he was eager to see his prize.

	With no hesitation, Scar’s terribly large frame stepped forward, the smell of the mixtures finally hitting Zira’s nose as she only recognized it once there was a bit of fire. That scent that was just under the sweet fruits and flowers, those roots and leaves, as they burned, it hid what it was from. Some strange concoction of rubber trees as that was what she felt like… that is what she smelled and as Scar moved to give her a lick on her muzzle, that is what she tasted. Zira, these villagers, Scar, they were all rubber entirely.

	“I do say, Zira, it’s been so long since I’ve thought of you. I know you’ve had your own dealings and misgivings, but at least it seems, for the first time, we are united. I know things are a bit muddled there, but allow me to put any doubts to rest.” Scar’s voice purred as he dragged his body past her own, letting it squeak now as he quickly moved behind, letting her feel the tease of a rather formidable shaft forming under his legs, brushing her own thigh. “You and the rest of these lionesses and I will say lions, I’m not that picky, do all belong to King Scar, that is to say me.” 

	Zira’s mind felt what must have been generations of planning and plotting somehow come crashing together as Scar moved to mount her. His shaft entered into her tight pliable entrance with a long slippery thrust as he took that pointed feline head and drew it to target. The thick barbs would ensure Zira could go nowhere, as Zira grinned, not only from the intense pleasure, but also from Scar falling exactly for this longer plan.

	Rutting and filling her with glorious ropes of rubbery seed, he lay there feeling so deliciously fulfilled as he just huffed in her ear. “Scar, my dear king. It would seem you need a queen and I would say you’re in no position to argue.” Zira’s claws extended, her powerful blood soaked claws rested up along his throat as this need to rut had left him directly under her rather swift action as she growled. Her insides squeezed his shaft for another surge of rubbery seed as she rattled back behind him, his throat to his claws. “Now then, do you agree, my king?”

	Scar quivered a bit, pleasing Zira’s insides as her muzzle smirked. Her own eyes glanced back at him, they were unwavering, unblinking as he slowly began to thrust again, feeling her warmth building and inescapable. Her threats were far too delightful, however could he refuse? “My darling…. Queen Zira, I shall give you all this and more, as our kingdom will grow.” The rubber lions of the village cheered and roared.

A resurrection and a coronation in a single day, all was going according to Zira’s plans that she had laid out so many years ago. Their king was back in a land he was banished from and now their queen was there to guide them and give them the bounties they so desperately had waited for.

By the time the sun rose in the morning again, the two lions would lay watching it, Zira dripping with seed and Scar licking her clean purring. The sun would rise in Zira’s vision and as the temperature rose, she would not feel it. She could only look towards what the light touched and grin broadly, as it was hers for the taking.