As the immortal Timon and Pumbaa once sang: In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle...
The Lion Stinks Tonight by senshi05
Simba groaned groggily as he woke up from his slumber unpleasantly and found it hard to breathe. A very heavy weight seemed to press him to the grass while he had fallen asleep on his back and even pinned his fore-arms to his chest. He struggled sluggishly before his night vision finally cleared and gave him a dreadful sight in the form of Pumbaa's buttocks. The warthog had rolled over in his slumber on the former prince of the Pride Lands and practically crushing him.
Simba's eyes shot open in sheer shock with Pumbaa's butt only less that a foot from his face. "Pum... baa..." he strained to shout but found it far more taxing than it should've. Breathing alone proved far more trouble than it was worth with the warthog's fat upon his chest. The lion cub gritted his teeth as he rocked his head and shoulders all about to try wriggling himself out. However, it was clear that his free limbs were his hind legs where his friend's head was between.
Simba could tell that Pumbaa was deep in a food coma after binging on nothing but beetles, especially with that snore. He knew from experience that it knocked the warthog out all night and that this meant he was pretty much reduced to a glorified mattress. He could hear Timon sleeping like the dead just to his left and could tell that he was probably not going to be much help. The once prince tried to struggle again to little avail, both hind paws wriggling helplessly.
Simba scowled in humiliation. He might've ran away from royalty but he still carried some princely pride in himself. That the once prince of the Pride Lands was pinned beneath a smelly warthog was disgraceful. The lion cub could vividly imagine Nala gloating over his predicament and smirking so smugly from up high. She probably remark how she wished she could pin him down just as easily. Worst part would easily be how he'd never be able to stay mad at her sassy looks.
"At least... it can't get... any worse," Simba grunted out to himself before Pumbaa's tail rose up.
"BRRAAAAAAPPTT!" Pumbaa's posterior proclaimed with a brass toot. Simba found himself blasted with a noxious gas out of the blue and groaned deeply from the stench embedding itself in his nostrils. He felt his guts churning by reflex and shut his mouth to repress the urge to puke. The lion cub's face turned as green as the trees above while he tried to hold his breath. With any luck, this nocturnal emission would rise up into the air. Luck that would soon turn... stinky.
"BRAAAAAPPPTTT!" Pumbaa's hefty hide emitted loudly and proudly. Simba attempted to wriggle out once and for all desperately but found that doing so made him gasp for air. Said air was currently tainted by the warthog's flatulence, causing the lion cub to cough as though he was really being poisoned. The lion cub could only assume that this was fate punishing him for his father's fall, a disgraceful ordeal befitting for a former prince. Now he'd wished he died in that desert.
"BRAAAAAAAPPPTTTT!" Pumbaa's butt bellowed in agreement.
It's gonna be a loooooong night for poor Simba.