Date: Fri, 29 Oct 2004 19:08:54 -0400
From: rhaven <rhavenlo@rhavenlore.com>
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?