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Welcome again to another homoerotic (that means +18 M/M) tale concerning a lion with dark fur and a silver mane. This one involves Bartholomew, a devious dark lion, who plans on infiltrating a family of bears by disguising himself as an old man, little does he know that the oldest son has a thing for older men. Enjoy.

~

His leather-booted hind paws lead into the tall oaks, crowned with blazing hues of orange, red, and yellow; a nigh harvest promised good reaping for the obscure town tucked away in a secluded forest. And if anyone knew of reaping, it would be this mysterious, black-cloaked stranger. Mid-afternoon sunlight glinted from the spectacles perched upon his nose bridge with the satisfying crunch of underfoot leaves, brisk breezes flapped his ominous billows and moon-silk mane with further traversing through the majestic wood. Off in the distance, viewing further than any other normal mortal, 2 bear cubs were spotted wrestling about in their shorts: one a teen and the other pre-teen, obviously brothers. A leonine smirk crept beneath his whiskers when he found them, standing just beyond their field of sense, these 2 distinguishable children of a local farmer he'd heard about, well known and liked throughout the town, one Mr. Baggardy. A mountain of a grizzly and sire of 3 boys and 4 girls, living in a farmhouse on land owned for the past 4 generations, each handed from father to son and each proud man greater than his predecessor.

'A marvelous choice,' decided the golden-eyed predator, after hearing all of the praise of that bloodline amongst his reconnaissance of the town. His feet left the ground as he darted from one tree to the next, trailing the homeward bound cubs with a shadow's stealth; his path intersected theirs, and he put into motion his plan to infiltrate the household. They'd never suspect his intentions. As the darting cubs jumped over and under the memorized trees' out-cropping, the laughing and giggling came to an abrupt stop upon colliding with a strange figure.

"Oh!" yelped young Isaac, tumbling heels-over-head into an unknown black cloak, disappearing beneath its many billows. The older Gary went immediately to the aid of his brother, attempting in vain to tear away the ebon folds, practically whipping about him like frantic spider legs, clinging to everything in reach. By fate most tragic, Gary plummeted into the nigh-abyss of the cloak, losing himself along with his brother.

"Ow!" cried a gruff, old voice, followed by the odd shuffling of tangled cloth and bodies. Isaac was on his head, propped up against a tree and shackled by some length of fabric; Gary was face first in leaves with the cloak wrapped around his waist. Both bear cubs looked up to an elderly lion with graying fur and a silver mane, lying on his back and them hopelessly woven into his dark traveling cape. He winced a bit, and they found that his leg had undergone an unfortunate collision with a root, and thus twisted at an odd angle. The aged lion gave a huff before grimacing a warm smile, though in pain, to the boys, "Well, that was quite an interesting fall," he chuckled in a grandfatherly manner.

"Gosh, mister, I'm so sorry!" wailed young Isaac, righting his position and looking on the verge of tears, untangling himself before eagerly attempted to help the lion to comfort. Gary aided to hoist up the collided elder, grabbing the nearby walking stick as he added a shoulder for support, "We're really sorry, sir! My name's Gary, and he's Isaac. Where're you headed, we'll help you get there," offered the older bear cub as quickly as he could.

"Well, my name's Bartholomew," said the lion with a subdued groan of discomfort, "And I'm not heading anywhere particular; I'm a bit of a nomad," he explained, elaborating in short detail of the day's fabricated venture, "I was headed to the inn, or perhaps sleep beneath the stars; it looks to be a nice night."

"But the inn's too far!" noted Isaac

"Yeah, and you need to get that leg up," chimed in Gary.

Bartholomew commented on what good parents they had to raise them so well. At the farmhouse, the "elderly" lion was finally introduced to Mr. Harold Baggardy himself (to which a secret glint shone behind the lion's eye). When the young cubs explained why they brought home an old beast like Bartholomew - whom ensured it was an honest mistake - the mountain of muscle and fur simply glared his brood into the floor.

"No, no," corrected Harold, crossing his thickly muscled arms over a stretching collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, he continued, "this isn't a matter to just brush aside. Oscar!" he bellowed to the second of 3 floors, looking over his broad shoulder as the head of an older brother poked out from behind a railing, "Your youngers have brought home a guest with a twisted ankle, bring him into Nana's room, and have Penny make the extra bed." Bartholomew watched with subtle admiration at the commanding respect of the father; his high expectations were not in vain. Oscar, as one could assume to be, slid down the railing gracefully despite his intimidating size, perhaps a head shorter than his father, donned in a pair of overalls barely clinging into a broad shoulder by a single strap. He gave a big toothy grin, crowned with a disheveled head of hair, stooping down and helping the grayed lion up onto a shoulder. "Jus' relax yerself, sir; I'll have you in bed in a jiffy!" Bartholomew could not help but ponder on such cordiality.

"Careful now," commented Harold. Oscar grunted affirmatively, noting the oddly-angled leg; he turned and grabbed the lion's thighs to hoist him up on piggy-back, Bartholomew grasping about his shoulders with care, still holding his walking stick. He looked over his own shoulder at the father standing above the younger cubs, them both staring up at their intimidating patriarch, whom waited for Oscar to depart before he began scolding. Despite Oscar jumping 3 stairs at a time, the ride upwards was remarkably smooth, Bartholomew could've been fooled he floated up.

Bartholomew was laid upon a comfortable down mattress with fresh linens. His leg put into a splint and hot tea at his bedside, the "elderly" lion felt himself enjoying a night's rest for the first time in months. He hardly forgot the whole reason for infiltrating the generous ursine abode, though, and intended verily the continuation of his scheme. His dinner tray was set before him and the nigh-decrepit she-bear of the neighboring bed behind a curtain that separated the room. Letting the meat and potatoes supper sit, he watched as the silhouetted bed-ridden grandmother handled a small spoon with slow grace; she might've had molasses for blood and lead for bones. His attention turned to an electric lamp sitting on the nightstand; he beckoned it over to his tray, so it floated over and sat obediently. Glancing first to the grandmother, Bart assured that he was safe, for she seemed blind and deaf to anything more than immediate proximity.

"Blood and life of this house's modern veins, my influence shall flow through your walls to show me what I command," he instructed; his legs folding close him and his mane receding into his body, returning to the more accustomed youthfulness; the family wouldn't be checking up on them for quite some time, since they'd both be 'sleeping'. A smiled crept over his lips at the success of the enchantment, invoking images and shapes to appear in the light shone from the lamp; it returned to the nightstand and cast a display on his lap, like a hologram. He could watch the whole household through their lamps and lights, and so he did, first over the feasting bears at their dinner table; glancing about, he could only find a short yet stout female bear (whom he assumed the mother) and 4 young maidens, one of them still cradled at her matron's bosom. Oscar sat at the table, but Harold, Isaac, and Gary were not to be seen. He concisely scanned the many rooms, suddenly finding that the father was in the young cubs' bedroom, having just finished a rather instructive lecture.

Bart continued to watch, the father sitting both them on the bed beside him; one of them, perhaps Gary, dropped his shorts and hopped up onto Harold's knee, a large paw striking his bared backside with a definite force. There was little crying as Gary held the other knee, being struck a second and third time; a tear fell down the cub's cheek but he climbed off and pulled his shorts up, tying them and stepping back so Isaac would be punished likewise. Isaac's cries were a bit more audible, but the single gasp of pain aside, the youngest rode through the spanking with stability alike his brother. After both had pulled up their shorts the father smiled warmly and hugged them both. Bart followed them to the dinner table, gently rubbing his chin in thought; he watched aptly Harold's eyes, finding something of interest behind them.

Night fell fully, and Bart finally feasted upon his meal, quickly reheating the tepid food with a simple motion of his paw. He had a feeling that his time should be short at the hospitable abode; despite his dark heart, it was still warm, and the longer he sat in that bed the more he grew to love the family of bears. 'Tomorrow,' he conspired, 'I will reap the father.' His whiskers arched like quills and his legs shot to the foot of the bed, re-slinging his "injured" ankle and regressing to "old age" once more, pulling the covers up to his neck and intently watching the door as it opened.

"Well, hello, Oscar," spoke Bart as the elder son had entered from the hallway. He was carrying 2 bowls of pudding topped with whipped cream and a bucket of some kind; obviously one reason for his arrival was that of dessert, though the bucket felt uneasy upon the lion's stomach.

"Hello, Mr. Bartholomew, I brought some sweets for you and Nana," he chimed, setting the bucket out of Bart's view and sitting upon the edge of the bed, handing the graying lion a delicious treat, which he accepted. "Isn't your grandmother to have the other?" he asked of Oscar, who only smirked impishly as he took a bite from it, "Nana's fast asleep, and chocolate gums up her...well, it's not good for her. So she won't mind if I eat hers."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Respect," said the young bear simply, downing the sugary bowl quite quickly.

"How noble. Pray tell, then, why have you brought up a bucket?"

"It's for your bath, of course, Mr. Bartholomew," said Oscar, setting both bowls aside and retrieving the aforementioned item; the lion's concerns rose, but he had to remained focused on his false sincerity. 'Oh well,' thought Bart, 'It would be best that I play along until he leaves.' Oscar stood over the charcoal-furred leonine to pull back his bed sheets, "Can you sit up, Mister?" he interrogated. To the inquiry, Bartholomew smiled and grunted affirmation, propping himself up, still wearing his traveling clothes from before (especially being careful to not move his leg suspiciously).

"Here, let me help you with that," said the boy, undoing the cloak and pulling it from Bartholomew's body. While his cheeks did not flush, he certainly felt a bit embarrassed from disrobing. He sat in his birthday suit with his desire to enact the dark scheme quickening in each passing moment. Oscar stood slightly bewildered at the 'elderly' lion sitting in the buff before him, as buff would accurately describe him. Bartholomew hadn't the time to properly age his body when Oscar barged in unexpectedly; the lion feared the niceties about him was dulling his senses and clouding his judgment. Luckily, the bear seemed to blush as he took in the sight of the decently built feline before him, so there didn't seem to be much in the way of suspicion.

"Uh...I'll just go ahead and get you cleaned, then," he seemed clumsy with his sentences, setting the bucket upon the nightstand and reaching in to extract the sponge. Bart carefully watched Oscar for the instant his back was turned; the bear's breath deepened, his heart quickened, and his body temperature rose, all by minute but noticeable amounts. At this point, Bart suspected a hidden agenda from Oscar's visit that evening; while a bath was appreciated, he didn't need to wash him entirely, and he wagered it was the daughters who frequently took care of Nana, since Oscar made no attempts to prepare the bed to bathe someone in it, and he locked the door behind after entering the room, however sneakily he went about it.

The cub's paws ran the sponge across Bart's aged yet defined chest, Oscar's eyes drinking but the image of the lamplight accentuating the dark-furred musculature. The lion admitted himself a subtle mixture of purring and rumbling, for not even someone as dark as he could resist such tender affections; Bart grew not only content but also intrigued, especially when Oscar climbed atop the dark-furred feline and straddled his waist. Such thoughts could prove useful, and Bart became more willing to allow the bear his way with him - within reason, of course.

Oscar's mind clouded like early morning haze, his deepest desire, the darkest of his secrets, were being fulfilled, and he had his little brothers to thank. He let the sponge slip from his grasp so his bare paws could caress the older lion's manly physique, amazed that someone his age could feel like someone so young. He leaned forward carefully, lips parting gradually, Ol' Bart seemed more than willing to let the horny bear fulfill his urges without resistance; he took the chance, pressing his lips to the lion's, kissing him foolishly but passionately. Images of being thrashed by his father and banished by his family swam through his mind, but it all seemed moot, if he had this moment to share with the handsome, graying beast. Oscar had hoped that his first kiss was someone closer to his own age, but something about Bart felt right, like he was a young man who's seen many years.

His body jerked when a large paw grasped his posterior, and he loved the old lion even more for his generous gesture. Flexing some farm-built muscle, Oscar leaned back against the more experienced paw, trying with all his might to keep from moaning out in lust. His heart fluttered with the descent of that paw into his loose-fitting overalls, sliding them from his shoulder to be easily pulled away. Oscar pulled up from the kiss, amazed his advances were allowed - if not encouraged - so far. An untold agreement (though for different reasons) was made between the lion and the bear, Oscar's face brightened with a smile upon recollection of the many sexual acts he'd seen when spying on his parents. Scooting down, he letting his claws comb through the stiff gray fur; Oscar's erection was evident, but Bart's was yet to arise, and not that the young bear had it an inch from his face, he could revel in the uncut slab of manhood. Finally, after dreaming of touching the penis of another male, one larger than his own, he was given the chance to truly enjoy the thick, musky appendage.

Paws better skilled to hoist crops moved with clumsy grace, rolling about the hefty orbs that churned with hot cum; caressing the fat length to lift it up, the remarkable sensation of rich blood pumping through the veins it housed, invoking growth of length, girth, firmness and heat. Oscar could hardly believe himself that such an elderly man still had so much life left in his limbs, amazed yet when the lion's pride stood at an impressive height, the foreskin pulled back to reveal a plump, slick gland. "Bigger than Pa..." muttered Oscar, sitting up a bit more to caress and lick across the throbbing pillar of flesh.

Bart never considered himself sizable or sexually attractive, such thoughts rarely crossed his mind, even amidst mating seasons; however, observing Oscar lavish his junk with caresses and attention presented a distantly plausible consideration to the possibility that he could perhaps allow such fanciful whims as permitting the notion to, maybe, offer volunteering a reasonable portion of his time to the prospects of breeding, if he had nothing more constructive to do.

Healthy strands of the lion's fluids jetted from the tip, much to even his own surprise as the clear essence splashed upon the scraggly, curly silver mane that reached to his abdomen; soon enough, he had let his disguise waver and descend, leaving his fur darker, his muscles firmer, and his mane shinier. Oscar blinked at the slight change of smell, looking up to the young adult lion staring back at him, his eyes no longer a pale gold but righteous and bright as noon suns; he felt his body quiver in unbridled lust, unable to comprehend this sudden change but it made his anus clench all the same. "All this time I just imagined you were younger...and you are! You...you must be magical..." his breathing quickened a bit, his eyes filled with both fear and admiration for the dark-furred lion before him. He scampered onto Bart's chest once more, straddling his hips so both of their erection pressed firmly together, his eager paws felt all over the new chest, the silky mane and fur, the rock-hard muscles. His face buried into the broad chest, inhaling the kingly, intoxicating musk on his way upward; he stole another kiss, much more passionate, now, grinding his hips slowly in heightened desire.

"Bart, let me be your lover..." he moaned, panting softly as he lifted his haunches, so desperate to attempt something he saw his mother do. Sitting up a bit more, paws bracing on the lion's shoulders he positioned the pulsing lionhood right between his cheeks, shivering as warm pre shot across his flesh, "Let me be yours..." he shuttered.

"Hush now, Oscar, you mustn't sound," replied the lion, touching his index and middle finger to the bear's voice box, and with ease he temporarily removed his speech. Oscar felt himself moan but couldn't hear anything, then nodding, he sank back and in an instant impaled his virgin backside on the lion's mighty shaft. He cried softly in a pain that quickly succumbed to pleasure, the intrusion upon his anal ring of muscle shot powerful ecstatic bolts up his spine and down his limbs, and never had he felt such grandness. With heated pants and moans, Oscar willed his ass to accept the burning meatpole sinking into his body, gritting his teeth and growling with abstract, enchanted silence; further still was Oscar stretched and skewered, but the process was slickened plentifully, thanks to Bart's pre-cum. The bear could only get halfway before he leaned back, grabbing the lion's shoulder with one paw as the other squeezed his own needy erection, bouncing on the half-cock embedded between his anal walls and against his prostate, Oscar brought himself to a tremendous climax. If his voice hadn't been stolen, the whole house (even Nana) would awaken from his erotic roar, firing thick ropes of his young spunk across his heaving chest, and some even landing upon his chin.

Bart growled softly, looking upon the orgasmic bear cub pleasuring himself upon his dick. He could never suspect how fantastic it all felt to have such tight and hot flesh encasing his rigidness, but even amongst the thick musk in the air and the throws of pleasure coursing in his veins, the lion kept a cool head - otherwise the consequences would be most severe and irreversible. His orbs pulled close to his body when the apex of his pleasure hit, and at such a crucial moment his paws grabbed the bear's hips and pulled him off just enough to pop out. Oscar gasped and moaned in protest, but then moaned in slutty desire as Bart shot wave after power wave of creamy seed across his butt and back. He ground his chocolate buns against Bart's erupting lion-cock, a large paw holding his haunches as the other stroked the thick erection shoved between his cheeks and aside his tail. When both had finally descended from their awesome heights, Bart removed the seal from Oscar's voice box, allowing him to speak once more.

"Oh Mr. Bart..." trilled Oscar, rubbing his lover's shoulders tenderly. The lion lightly smirked to the bear atop him, rubbing his sides, "Do me a favor?" requested Bart, "Clean this stuff off us, before it dries." Oscar was in too much of a daze to object, acting swiftly with a sponge and rag and some still warm water (courteously of Bart) to wipe down every last drop. The lion sat up and re-robed as denim overalls found once more the ursine body. Oscar sat beside and snuggled against his new found lover, then casually went limp.

"Thank you, Oscar," spoke Bart in a sinister tone, his large paw grasping the cub's forehead, thumb and pinky at his temples, "I now have the data I need to perfect my intent." Oscar's eyes fluttered and blanked, unable to speak as the dark-furred lion removed from him all memory of what happened in the last half-hour, a softly glowing ball of magic transitioning between the bear's forehead to the lion's palm. He flicked his wrist and the orb of light shrank to the size and shape of a vial, quickly stowed inside the lion's robes for later use. "This will have all seemed like a wonderful dream," he continued, his voice softening as his image aged, "Now, head off to bed, I'm sure you have lots of chores to do tomorrow."

Oscar nodded and picked up the bucket of dirtied water, smiling cheerfully to the elderly lion before exiting the room, "That was a great story, Mr. Bartholomew; I can't believe you actually flew on the back of a wild griffin!" And with that, Bart was left alone in the dark with his roommate, the snoring silhouette of Nana; closing his eyes and slipped into a light "sleep", going into his own mind to concoct the final component of tomorrow's reaping.

~

There'll be a second one coming.