Naught But a Puppet King
By Aurum Toxx

The thunderpaths...streets as these twolegs called them, were filled with the furless upwalkers, moving to and fro. Monsters rode past on the black surface, roaring louder than any lion. The alleys were filled with garbage, twoleg trash, and a stench that thankfully, hid the three large cats as the stalked around.

A while back, the twolegs had built a pride on their land, and it was stretching further and further into the pridelands every day. The Herds were being chased out, yet Mufasa was not yet willing to give up Priderock. The food was scarce, but still there. Though, even Mufasa’s resolve was wavering. That was until Scar brought up the wonderful idea. He said he knew where twolegs kept their leftover prey, and it was free for the taking. That idea is what brought Scar, Mufasa, and his son Simba into the twoleg nest, hiding among the darkness of the alley.

Simba rifled through one of the bags, coming out with a banana peel on his nose. “Are you sure any of this stuff is edible? Is smells worse than Pumba after a stink bug feast.” The lion cub shook his pelt, the banana flying off and landing at Scar’s paws.

Scar suppressed a small sigh, flicking the peel to the side with his tail. “Yes Simba, but not here. I told you already. There’s a twoleg that will feed us. We just have to make it to his den.” His ears twitched irritably.

Mufasa laws a paw on his son’s shoulder. “Come Simba, It’s not far now, right Scar?” The elder lion with the red mane asked his brother.

Scar’s claws slipped out, scratching on the stone below. “Yes your highness.” he hissed out. His tail twitched, and ears perked, searching for the…. Aha! In the fence on the side of the alley, behind the twoleg trash Simba had just dug through, was the loose flat branch. A hole, barely big enough a lion, like Mufasa, could probably slip through.

The black-maned lion dug through the black mess bags, pushing them to the side as he made a path to the fence. Then he slipped through the hole, easily, as if he’d done it many times before. “It’s this way. His den is passed here.” Simba and Mufasa exchanged a wary look, before the elder lion nudged his son through the hole, then followed, squeezing his way through. The wood creaked and cracked, and for a moment, Mufasa was afraid he’d be stuck, but then his body popped through, though his fur was covered in splinters.

The other side of the fence led to a green, grass-filled area, a fence surrounding on three sides. The last side had a twoleg den flap, just barely ajar, and light could be seen from within it. Strutting with unusual confidence, Scar made his way to the door, grinning back. “Are you coming?” His tail flicked impatiently.

Mufasa looked steadily at the door, then nodded slowly. “Lead the way Scar.” The bigger, buffer lion said. Scar grinned, showing his teeth, before nosing open the door and walking in. The two other lions followed much more slowly. Atop the door, a bell rang when Scar had pushed it, and there was a clatter of wood on stone.

“Ah! Scar! And you must be his friends. Welcome welcome. I’m just finishing up, have a seat, make yourself at home!” A tall male twolegs said. He was covered in a dark blue pelt, small blue threads holding it on his forearms. Underneath, Mufasa could see a red pelt, colored much like his mane. The twoleg himself had dark brown headfur and a pair of sticks over his eyes. Something he’d seen other twolegs with before.

Simba was more focus on what the twoleg was working on, on the table. A black tiger, looking to be made of wood, and with white jagged stripes, was laying limply, his maw open, if you could call two pieces of colored wood a maw. Next to that one, another black tiger, looking almost identical to the first was laying on its belly. His paws seemed almost flesh-like though, and his muzzle was a real muzzle if a bit malformed. And then the tiger blinked at him.

Simba let out a small yowl of surprise, hiding his face in Mufasa’s fur. Mufasa looked around confused at what could’ve scared his son. The twolegs above patted the second tiger on the back, tying what looked like webs to it, then holding up a stick with those same webs tied to it. The tiger rose up on its paws, walking, well more floating its way to Simba and Mufasa. The tiger opened its mouth and asked, “What's wrong little cub? I’m just a good puppet,” in the twoleg’s voice, albeit, a higher pitch. Simba looked up, seeing the tiger made completely of wood, just like the other one. The webs leading up to a stick held by the twoleg, a stick the twoleg wriggled, causing the puppet to bounce and move.

Simba let out a sigh of relief. He was just seeing things. Wood can’t blink. It was just a twoleg toy. And he felt really silly now, being scared by such a harmless thing. Simba lashed his tail and batted a paw at the black and white, clacking maw of the tiger puppet, only to miss as the twoleg pulled it back.

“Oh no little one, it's not that kind of toy. Here. Let me put these two up and I’ll show you what I mean.” the twoleg male said with a smile. Grabbing the other tiger by the control stick, he playfully made them walk all the way out of the room.

Scar padded around Mufasa, coming to sit beside him. He had a small smirk on his muzzle. “This twoleg is one of a kind really. He really gets me. And I'm sure he’ll get you both as well, your highness.” He hisses into the other lion’s ear. Mufasa looked at scar for a bit, then looked back at the wooden animals scattered around the room. Hanging by the strange webs. Twoleg toys, like a moss ball for a lion cub. Surely a twoleg that made enjoyment for twolegs cubs couldn’t be bad, right?

There was a clatter of wood and a small surprised yelp from behind Mufasa. He turned around and let out a purr of laughter. Simba, who was pawing at some of the hanging webs, had accidentally gotten tangled in on of the moving sticks with the webs wrapped around the little cub. Simba let out a mreow of annoyance as he tried to pry himself free, only getting more tangled by the strings.

“Oh dear, You sure made yourself a mess, didn’t you little cub.” The twoleg said as he walked back in, empty-handed. He knelt in front of Simba, tugging at the control stick. “Yep, you’re stuck fast. Lemme get you untangled you little cutey.” The twoleg male said as he picked up Simba, webs and all, setting the indignant cub on the table. Simba pawed at the twolegs hands, making him laugh a bit.

“Settle down, or I’ll never get you unstuck.” He said, using a big clumsy hand to stroke the lion cubs back. Simba perked up, letting out a soft purr, before settling down on his haunches. The pets, they felt really nice, like a dry bath on his fur. He could deal with them for now. Yeah. just for a little bit. He rested his head on his forepaws as the twoleg went to work, gently unwrapping the cords from the cub.

Between the twolegs paw rubbing down his pelt, and the gentle tugging of the strings as they were pulled away, Simba couldn’t help but feel relaxed. Like all his worries were washed away. His body almost felt like a rock now, he didn’t want to move, And he easily and gratefully let the twolegs move his paws for him, unwrapping the strings. Simba let out another loud purr,

The twolegs smiled down, ruffling Simba on the head. “That’s a good cub, just sit there and let me work. Scar was right, you two are pretty used to be puppets.” He tugged at one of the strings, and Simba's front paw moved up, then down, the lion cub hardly even registering the fact.

Mufasa looked up at the twolegs, tilting his head in confusion. “Puppets? Scar? What does he…” He was stopped as a small purr left his muzzle, feeling the raspy tongue of his brother going up against his back, grooming his fur.

“Just a little joke between two puppet masters Your highness, pay it no mind.” He said, Licking the large lion's ear. Mufasa almost collapsed then and there, the feeling was so...relaxing. Scar knew how to hit just the right spots. He’d have to ask him for this more often.

With the larger lion distracted once more, the twoleg sighed with relief, going back to his work on the little cub. Simba’s eyes were droopy, hardly open, and the purring had all but faded now. Puppets didn’t purr after all. The twolegs smirked down, taking a brush, a small one meant for tending to his more life-like creation, and started to stroke the lion cub with it.

Every pass the brush made, the fur it touched got glossier, shinier. It flattened out, into a perfectly trimmed coat, made of synthetic fur. Feeling almost like the real thing, but much less shedding. At this point, the lion cub has stopped breathing. His only thoughts were of how relaxing it was, freeing, to not have to move. His master could move him. Yeah, his master could do all the work while he rested. His eyes blinked once, then froze open. There was a small crackling as they solidified from jelly-like flesh to a hard plastic marble.

The twoleg…..the master stroked the brush down his legs. Simba’s legs lost all feeling, and numbness set over. His paws became softer, plusher on him, and it felt like there were no bones left in his leg. A tug of the string proved this, as the lion cub’s leg curled up to where the string ended, embedded in his paw. Simba tried to turn his head to look, but found he couldn’t… didn’t want to move from looking straight ahead. If he was meant to see, his master would let him see.

The brush rose up, stroking the cub on the nose, brushing his ears into soft, furry fabric. His nose melted into a small plastic bead, and his maw opened itself, his chin dropping to the table. The Twoleg gave his head a small squeeze, and Simba felt his head concave, collapse in on itself. And oh what a feeling it was. It was like every thought was being squeezed out. Like every worry was...was…..

“Silly cub. Puppets down need to think. That's your puppet master’s job. You just sit there and look pretty.” the twoleg said, pulling the control stick into the air. Simba rose to his paws, barely touching the ground. One limp paw over the other, he moved across the table, his head bobbing up and down in the air with every exaggerated step. The little lion puppet gazed down at his former father, and in a voice completely not his own, his maw flapped up and down and spoke. “It feels so good papa. You should try. I love being a puppet” The twolegs high pitched voice sounded from above.

Mufasa’s eyes were glazed over, he looked almost like he was melting into the ground as Scar licked his shoulder softly. He could barely raise his head up to look at his son, what had become of him. The limp, flapping body on the strings above him. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. It must be so relaxing, to not have to move, to think. To let someone else be in charge for once.

Scar hissed in his ear. “That's a good King, a good puppet king. You always were a puppet king. Following your father’s ideas, following your mate’s ideas, following MY ideals. Never contributing anything on your own. And now, you can be a puppet for real. Give up your control, serve a better master, enjoy your freedom, like the good puppet you are” Scar gave his ear another lick.

Mufasa looked up at the towering twolegs, straining to move his head enough to gaze up. A soft purr left his muzzle as he thought about it. Someone else could worry about the pride. It wasn’t his job to be king. Not unless the tw...master said so. Yeah. That would be nice. Mufasa slowly nodded to the master.

The puppet master smiled down, hanging the lion cub from a hook in front of Mufasa, letting him dangle in front of the elder lion, swaying softly, staring blankly. It looked like paradise to Mufasa. Like true freedom.

“Hmm.. you might be a bit on the heavy side. So maybe a cotton filling, that should keep you nice and big, while being so soft for children to hug, and easy to handle.” The puppet master ponders a bit. He grabbed two large control sticks from a hook on the wall, letting the strings dangle over the large lion.

Mufasa felt several small tingles. On his paws, his head, his jaw, even his long tail. The small pinprick tingles of the strings joining with him, the proof he’ll never have to move himself again. He was elated. Mufasa let his limp head fall back to the ground. He’d never have to raise it himself again. Never…..again.

The puppet master got down on a knee, setting the control sticks to the side, as he rolled Mufasa over, exposing his belly. “That's a good lion. A good puppet. Let's get you all fluffed up.” He said, pulling out a needle and thread out of seemingly nowhere. Musasa couldn’t see where, but he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his job, it was the puppet masters.

Mufasa felt a small poke, a tingle that extended from his chest all the way down. And from that tingle, he felt like air was escaping. His legs going limp, his chest fell in on itself, his broad shoulders deflated. His body felt loose, relaxed, and...empty. He was a pile of lion rags on the floor, waiting to be filled. The only parts of him not deflated, were his head and paws.

The twoleg looked down at the empty lion puppet. It looked for all intents and purposes like an unstuffed plush. And it was his job to fix him. He grabbed a large bag of stuffing. Plush stuffing, used for the softer plushies. And he started pushing handful after handful into the velcro opening he’d sewn into the lion’s stomach. Each handful carefully placed, to even out the plush, and keep the lion looking as realistic as puppetly possible.

Mufasa felt pure joy. Every handful felt like a soft, warm hug on the inside. Each push of stuffing freed more and more of his movement. Plush moved so much easier than bones. Now his master could use him so much more efficiently. His eye’s crackled, changing to emerald marbles, and his jaw hung open loosely. And with every handful of stuffing, Mufasa’s head got fuzzier and fuzzier. Harder to think with. It made sense. Cotton and wood didn’t receive thoughts well. They weren’t made to think. Or move, they were made to be controlled. To ...to...to be…..

The lion's thoughts stopped as his velcro was sealed up tightly. His body was plush and fur aside from his wood weighted paws and head. The puppet master let out a small grin. This lion would be a beautiful addition to the traveling puppet circus who commissioned him. He just needed one last touch. The twoleg brought the brush down from earlier, softly swiping it across the puppets fur. And like with the lion cub puppet, his fur turned to a glossy, synthetic fur. Soft, and realistic, but clean and shinier. It looked much better under the light and didn’t hold dirt near as well. And most importantly, It was allergy-proof, so every kid could enjoy. The puppet master set aside the brush, gazing at his finished lion on the floor. And he was a magnificent work of art, one of his best.

He grabbed the two control sticks, holding the massive yet lightweight lion up. “That you puppet master,” The puppet’s maw clacked in the puppet master’s voice. He chuckled softly, before reaching up and hanging the control sticks on special hooks on the ceiling for his larger puppets. Speaking of larger puppets…

The puppet master turned to Scar. “Why thank you for the merchandise Scar, and for your reward. You get to be king, king of my shop.” the puppet master smiled.

Scar let out a small snarl. “You are not turning me into one of your puppets, master!” He bared his teeth at the puppet master.

The puppet master just laughed. “Why, my silly little lion. You already are my puppet.” He said. Strings seams to rise from Scar, attaching to a pair of control sticks on the ceiling. His paws rose up from the ground as the lion squirmed around.

“But. But how! It would take someone of great intelligence and power to best me! You must be an amazing puppet master! I concede to you!” Scar’s maw clacked, and with every word, his voice changed from his normally gruff voice to the deep, false baritone of the puppet master’s mimicking voice.

“Why Scar, I already got you when you first visited. But now, I think you’ve done enough work, getting your friends for me. So you’ll get to hang in my shop and watch over it from now on. Aren’t I so nice?” The puppet master asked, smirking at the hanging lion as he sat on his table. He didn’t have to do any work on this puppet, it was already done. He just had to watch and maybe have a little self-motivation therapy. That was always fun.

Scars body crackled and snapped, stiffening. His fur seemed to melt down. Smoothing into hard wood. Painted on him, rather than growing from him. That was silly, wooden puppets didn’t have fur. It defeated the purpose.

Scar’s joint’s cracked and changed. Becoming little more than balls and hinges of wood. His body made for a more exaggerated display rather than realistic movements. His jaw fell open, his teeth becoming little more than jagged spikes of wood. His mane deflated slowly, becoming little more than a circle or synthetic fur, that would blow in the wind as he was moved. His eyes flattened into a painted pair of amber eyes. And finally, his tail fell limp behind him, dissolving into what looked like sausage links of wood.

And with that, his first lion puppet was back in his rightful place. As a puppet in his shop. The dark brown cherry wood, working wonderfully with the synthetic black mane. And each twitch of the string moved the former lion so easily. The joints were well maintained, as all puppets should be.

The puppet master smiled as he looked at his happy family of puppets. Together forever with him. Or at least until tonight when the commissioner came for the two synthetic lions. At least they could be a family until then.

Several months later The traveling puppet show was stopped at a small town. The play of Hamlet was being done, with lions instead of Humans. And it was such a hit, the puppet master was considered a genius. He turned a dark and brooding story into one fit for children, will all the same lessons. And it was all thanks to his two new puppets. They hung from the wall in the room with the rest of his puppets. Each one with glossy clean fur. They were his stars, so he took care of them every day. Groomed them, cleaned them, had them dry cleaned when needed. The big one was a favorite to the kids, always getting grubby from the hugs and cotton candy filled hands. He had to get him cleaned nearly every day, but It was worth it. He was getting rich off the two lions.

He sat back, gazing at his two lions, gently brushing the bigger one's paw to get the last bit of grime and dust, free. In two months, he’d have enough money to retire these two and start a new play, maybe something based on Romeo and Juliet. These two...no all the puppets from this play deserved a good long rest from the daily shows. Unless of course, he could sell them off. Many schools would buy a set of puppets for their own plays...Yeah, that would work. They were puppet s after all. What did they care?

And Hanging in the window of the Pridelands Puppet Parlor was a cherry wood lion, with a black mane. One either side of him hung two black tigers, with jagged white stripes. The ‘guardians’ of the shop, as the owner liked to call them. They were his favorites as well. Anytime he wasn’t working on a new puppet, he could be seen cleaning his shop’s ‘king’ and its two ‘disciples’. Keeping them nice and shiny, grub free and ready for the children.

And as for the puppets. Well. They’re puppets. They don’t care. What did you expect?