Date: Fri, 29 Oct 2004 19:08:54 -0400 From: rhaven Subject: Beyond the Pale Chapter One This story contains Man/Boy situations. This is a work of pure fiction, words on a page, nothing more than fictional fancy. The phrase `Beyond the Pale' is used to describe people that live an unusual life... doesn't that depict us all? If you like this story please check out www.rhavenlore.com for more. Beyond the Pale By Rhaven CHAPTER ONE Doors are locked, windows shut. Night comes to Hitchcock Street once again. It is a neighborhood of brick and concrete, now covered in a shimmering gleam as the rain strengthens. Mason stares out of his small window and watches the rain wash down the street. Something about the rain seems sad to the young boy. Can nature cry? Mason sighs and shuts his window, bouncing back onto his bed. He doesn't like nighttime, it's at night that he realizes just how small his room is, how vacant it looks and feels. He never was much of a sleeper; it felt too much like dying. There was a time he would stay up most the night with his grandmother, listening to stories about the good old days. But Grandma died last year, leaving Mason with his stone cold grandfather. Mason didn't like thinking about his grandmother, he didn't see the good times, all he could remember was her dying, begging Mason for help. Comic books were Mason's companions, he flipped open his favorite issue of Batman and started to read. It was his favorite, only because in one panel, Batman is holding Robin lovingly. At least Mason would like to think it was a loving hug. He could stare at that one panel all night long. Mason rolled over on his side and cocked his head to listen. Grandpa had just turned off the TV. He heard the thump-thump of Grandpa's cane as the old man made his way to his bedroom. Mason wrinkled up his nose as he thought about that cranky old man. Grandpa was filled with hate and loathing. He hated everything and anyone, adding a new object or person every day to his list of detestation. Mason knew Grandpa hated him, the old man mentioned it all the time, every time he saw Mason, the old man would curse his existence. Mason avoided his grandfather as much as possible, which made them both happy. Mason couldn't complain too much, he had more freedom than any other of his friends at school. Mason sat up on the bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He pulled on the shirt as he sneaked down the hallway to the staircase. Mason's grandfather lived and slept on the first floor of their three-story house. Now that arthritis had ravaged his body, the old man couldn't venture upstairs. Mason tiptoed down the narrow stairs, listening to make sure Grandpa was indeed asleep. Once he heard the comforting sound of his grandfather snoring, Mason quickly headed to the back door. They didn't have a backyard, only a cramped alley wedged between more buildings. It was one building down where Mason headed. An oasis among a desert of bricks. The house like his was three stories, but was long ago separated into individual apartments. However, it wasn't the building he was interested in, it was the patch of grass and tall oak tree that drew him here in the rain. Only Mrs. Molino lived in the building now, the top two floors had been vacant for over a year, so Mason knew no one would see him here. Mrs. Molino was a blind and deaf eighty-year-old woman; there was no chance of her discovering him. Just to make sure, Mason checked the alley one more time before he felt comfortable enough to remove his clothes. He'd been coming here every other day or so and stripping down to the nude. It somehow cleared his mind, wiped away all the fears and worries. This was the first time in the rain though; the water washing down his body was exhilarating. It was like taking a shower outside and that gave him an extra thrill. No matter how many times he did this, he always got an erection. A lot of times, Mason could get an erection just by thinking of his nude outings. He sat down on the wet grass and leaned against the tree. With eyes closed, he concentrated on the mesmerizing sound of the rain. He loved this naked time, the feeling of the grass on his bare butt, the cool breeze caressing normally clothed parts of his body. This was the only time he felt normal. Mason jumped to his feet and strolled over to the corner of the building. From there he could see that Hitchcock Street was deserted. He took a few cautious steps towards the road, but couldn't muster up enough courage to go all the way. He wasn't angry with himself, Mason knew that sooner or later he'd make it to the street and what a thrill that will be. Mason picked up his clothes and headed back home, feeling satisfied with the night's adventure. During this time, he wasn't Mason, he was the Streaker, it was his secret identity and that made him special, even if no one else knew. Tuesdays, Mason hated Tuesdays. Mrs. Bakonyi arrived on this day. She came every week to clean the house and cook them a meal. It was the only real meal Mason got for the week, but despite that, he hated Mrs. Bakonyi. She had a look reserved only for Mason, a look of distaste and pity. He'd seen this look from most of the older people on Hitchcock Street. He was tarnished in their eyes, stained with the sin of his mother. "Mason! Get your lazy ass down here!" Grandpa screamed from the foot of the stairs. Mason reluctantly rolled off the bed, already fully dressed, he'd been waiting for this moment. Every Tuesday, Mrs. Bakonyi would complain to Grandpa about how messy his grandson was, giving her too much work for one simple old woman. Mason lumped his way down the stairs, shoulders slumped and head down. He was always blamed for the messes, it didn't matter that Grandpa was the one who created them, it was easier for the adults to lay blame on the only kid in the house. "You should be ashamed of yourself." Mrs. Bakonyi said with a wicked smile. "Your grandfather depends on you to help out here..." "Worthless piece of shit. Doesn't do anything but sulk around like the world owes you something." Grandpa muttered under his breath, playing the perfect neglected old man. "What do you want me to do?" Mason asked quietly, still looking down at the floor. Mason stumbled to the floor with a yelp. He hadn't seen his grandfather move, the old man had swung his cane and struck Mason across the side of his head. The sudden shock of the attack hurt more than the cane itself. "You show some respect." Grandpa growled. Mason heard Mrs. Bakonyi snicker as he pulled himself up off the floor. "Yes sir." Mason whispered. "Here's a list of items I need from the grocery store. Once you get back, I'll have something else for you to do." Mrs. Bakonyi handed Mason a small piece of paper and gave Grandpa a satisfying nod. "Don't you lollygag around, young man. Get the fucking groceries and get back here!" Grandpa thumped his cane on the floor to emphasize that he was serious. Mason nodded and raced out the front door. Every Tuesdays, the same play, the same lines, the same hate. Mason spent all his time avoiding his grandfather, putting all his energies into being invisible, only to have Mrs. Bakonyi screw it up on Tuesdays. He knew she did it on purpose, finding some sick delight in tormenting Mason. Morning on Hitchcock Street, with the sun glorifying the perfect sky, sharing its warming glow to the people below, an apology for the rain, making everyone smile. Mr. Fong who owned the Chinese food restaurant swept away the remains of the night's rain and whistled a haunting tune. Mrs. Patinkin of Patinkin Flowers, decorated the front of her store with the fresh bouquet of flowers. Brenda Morgan pushed her twin boys in a stroller down the street, waving to everyone she saw. Teddy Gambini flirted with Susie Haysbert on the steps of their apartment, with Susie trying her best to look disinterested. Mason loved watching people; he had learned so much about life, but watching others. It was amazing what you could uncover by just watching and listening carefully. He knew that Brenda Morgan pretended to be the perfect housewife, loving mother to her twins, but Mason discovered that she visited the liquor store everyday and bought a large bottle of whiskey. He'd seen her sneak a drink before returning to her apartment, he'd seen her slip and show her true face when she thought no one was watching. Teddy Gambini liked men, though he tried very hard to act like a playboy, Mason had seen how Teddy stared at other men, there was no mistake that he hungered to be with them. Everyone on Hitchcock Street had a secret identity, everyone had something to hide. Mason slipped the grocery list into his pant's pocket and entered the coffee shop. Mr. Schultz, a pudgy man with a face that glowed from his constant grin, instantly started pouring a glass of milk for Mason. "Tuesday again huh?" Mr. Schultz laughed. "That old bat got you doing her work huh?" Mason sat down on the stool at the counter and took a sip of the flavorful cool milk. "Every Tuesday." Mason said with a weak grin. "Not a lot of people here this morning." He glanced around the small coffee shop. Only two tables were occupied, one with Mr. Keegan, who was engrossed in the morning paper and the other person, was someone Mason didn't recognize. Mason did a double take on the stranger, there was something very familiar about the man, but Mason couldn't figure out what it was. "It's still early..." Mr. Schultz said and started wiping off the counter nervously. "Would you like a chocolate chip cookie, huh?" "Yes, please." Mason said quickly, licking his lips hungrily. Mr. Schultz had the best cookies in the neighborhood. Mason sighed as he chewed the soft cookie, rocking back and forth on the stool as he finished it off, savoring every bite. Mason caught the stranger watching him, smiling as if he'd seen something wonderful. Mason quickly sat up straight and stopped rocking, feeling his face flush from being caught acting like an idiot. "Mr. Schultz..." Mason whispered. "Who is that?" Mason tried to point to the stranger without pointing. "Never seen him here before today, drinks French roast with sugar, nothing odd about that, huh?" Mr. Schultz returned to his wiping of the counter, leaving Mason still wondering where he'd seen this person before. Mason finished off his milk and waited to see what the man would do. From the way he was looking out the window, it appeared he was nervous. Mason waited as long as he could, until he finally surrendered on this investigation, if he didn't get the groceries soon, his grandfather would kill him for being so late. Reluctantly, Mason said `goodbye' to Mr. Schultz and headed down the street to the grocery store. Mason ran as fast as he could with his arms full of grocery bags. He knew it didn't matter if it had taken him a minute or an hour, he'd get yelled at for taking too long. "It's about time!" Mrs. Bakonyi yelled as he walked into the kitchen. "I'm been working my butt off." Mason rolled his eyes at the obvious lie. Mrs. Bakonyi was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, how hard could she be working sitting down? "Is that little son of a bitch finally home?" Grandpa yelled from the living room. "Take out the trash and then you can help me finish cleaning the kitchen." Mrs. Bakonyi said sternly. "I asked if the bastard was home!" Grandpa yelled again from the living room. "He's home... I've got him working!" Mrs. Bakonyi yelled back. Mason shook his head and did as he was told, quickly grabbing up the trash bag and heading back outside. How he hated Tuesdays, he couldn't wait to become invisible again, hiding from his grandfather. Mason threw the bag into their dented trashcan, looking down the alley and though he couldn't see his green paradise, he could feel the grass on his bare bottom. The thought made him smile and shiver from the wonderful imagined sensation. "Dang it." He cursed quietly; Mason quickly adjusted his instant erection and hoped that Mrs. Bakonyi wouldn't notice. His penis wanted to be freed of its confining clothes, it wanted to feel the fresh air caress its delicate skin. Mason squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else, something to distract him from this wonderful dream. "Batman!" Mason screamed. The man in the coffee shop looked just like Bruce Wayne from the comic books. That was why he looked so familiar. Mason kicked the trashcan angrily. He should have stayed in the coffee shop and watched him, found out what he was doing in the neighborhood. Could the comic books be true? Could Bruce Wayne/Batman be a real person? He had stared at Mason, was he looking for a new Robin? Mason kicked the trashcan again; he wanted to run back to the coffee shop so badly that his body shook. However, Mason knew there was no way he could leave now. Between his Grandpa and Mrs. Bakonyi, he was trapped. Hours passed as Mason cleaned, swept, dusted and wiped. After all that, Mason retired to his bedroom, falling on his bed from exhaustion. He had left Mrs. Bakonyi making stew, but he'd lost his appetite, as his mind haunted him with imagines of Bruce Wayne. In desperation, Mason grabbed his favorite Batman comic book, flipped to his favorite panel. He focused on the concerned smile across Batman's face, as he held Robin. He could read so much into that faint smile. Mason slipped his hand into his pants and touched his erect penis as he stared at the comic book. He so wanted to be Robin, to have Batman there always to protect him, to share secrets and solve mysteries. Mason moaned and threw the book across the room. He was sick of dreaming, that was all he ever did. Mason rushed to his bathroom and stripped, his clothes suffocating the breath out of him. He stood at the sink and stared into the mirror, examining the naked boy looking back at him. He could have been Robin; he did have brown hair, though longer than the Boy Wonder. He was skinny and thought he looked somewhat muscular. Mason lifted his arm and made a muscle for the mirror to see. He wished the artist had drawn Robin naked, so he could really compare their bodies. Halfheartedly, Mason pulled his clothes back on and returned to his room. Mason lay on his bed refusing to look at any of his comic books. He lay there staring up at his window waiting impatiently for the sun to set. He was hungry now, but didn't dare go downstairs and take the chance of running into his grandfather. After Mrs. Bakonyi, it would take days for Grandpa to cool down. If they did run into each other now, Mason risked being hit by the deadly cane. Not that any other time was better; Grandpa hadn't been in a good mood since he returned from Vietnam or a least that's what his grandmother used to tell him. Mason was pacing his room anxiously waiting for the TV downstairs to turn off. Once it did, he had to stop himself from running out of the house; it wouldn't do him any good being caught by Grandpa sneaking out. It felt like he had to wait hours, before he was positive that his grandfather had gone to bed. Once outside, Mason let out a heavy sigh of relief. He looked up at the night sky and smiled at all the stars sparkling above him. Mason almost danced to his favorite spot, he felt so pleased to see his tree and patch of grass, as if there had been a chance it was no longer there. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and sat down on the cool grass, spreading his legs to let the air kiss his private parts. Mason relaxed against the tree and ran his fingers through the blades of grass. He was so happy to be here, all the crap from the day melted away until all there was, was grass and one oak tree. Finally, Mason stood and walked to the corner of the building. Hitchcock Street was completely abandoned; Mason tiptoed a few steps and stopped, tiptoed a little closer until he finally found himself standing at the curb. He looked around at the rows of buildings and houses; they seemed so different at night, so lonely. He jumped up in the air at his victory and sat down at the curb. Here was the Streaker, for the entire world to see. Mason laughed and rubbed his erection. How exhilarating this was, Mason didn't want it to ever end. He lay down across the cold sidewalk and continued stroking his penis, thinking about all the people that would walk here tomorrow morning, oblivious of the existence of the Streaker. It only took him a minute to ejaculate, squirting cum onto his stomach. Mason laughed again, wiping the cum next to a crack in the sidewalk so he could find it later. It was his signature, his mark of triumph. Mason stood and headed back down the alley, feeling very brave for his new victory. Suddenly, Mason heard voices, he almost screamed, but stopped himself as he ducked behind Mrs. Molino trash can. He held his breath and listened again. Two voices, a man and a woman. Mason carefully moved closer to the corner of the building, still holding his breath. He was shocked to see a couple standing next to his oak tree. The man was holding up Mason's Batman underwear and laughing. The woman was rummaging through his pants pockets. Mason didn't recognize the two people, which didn't matter. Whether he knew them or not, they were invading his favorite spot, touching his clothes. He was horrified to see them sit down under the tree and pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels. The Streaker was trapped, in danger of having his secret identity discovered. What would Batman do in this situation?