The Château

Chapter 1: New Found Wealth

Story Codes	: No sex, Scene Setting
Characters	: Patrick Berleand, 52

Hey all, thought I'd introduce myself before I tell my tale, now get your hands off your penises, it's going to take a while before the good things roll.

My name is Patrick Berléand, at this point in time I'm a 52 year old French man living on that old continent that centers the world map... I never got the drift why people would call Europe 'the old continent'… Speaking from first hand experience, Europe is as fresh and young as an early spring butterfly, well, except for some buildings which have a story of their own, this is one of those stories.

Living in a small village near Toulouse for forty winters had been a good yet repulsive experience on a personal level. Back then, I was a relatively successful free-lance craftsman and carpenter living in a town where the biggest event of the year would be celebrating yet another anniversary for granny Olga, a centennial Russian witch who had fled the Soviet Union. However, that was not what I wanted from life, and was in constant search for a glimmer of hope to turn my life upside down, that tiny ion of hope began to take shape around the year 1996, with the rise of the internet.

I have been a boylover for as long as my fading memory can remember, that's probably one of the very few things in life which I am sure off, the rest is nothing but a discomforting blur. Be it as it may, the fact of living in a small town my entire life in a tightly knit society, meant that I would be an utter idiot to make a move with a boy, not to mention the ethics dilemma and overall fear of the consequences. I had to abstain from seeking my true desires from the age I hit puberty till I was forty, yep, a very long time. However, being slightly bisexual, I had no problem soliciting some much needed relief from local prostitutes… In fact, I can't even remember how many times I would fantasize myself having sex with a young boy while I was actually plowing some old hag's worn pussy. Ironically, Between the years 1996 and 1998, two distinctive events had a major impact in my life that changed everything I had ever known.

The first life changing event was the growing popularity of the internet which sparked global curiosity, myself being among the herd of people flooding to understand what it was and what it had to offer. Having mastered the art of using that white and dusty beeping box in my living room, I began finding my way on the internet, becoming more experienced and more agile with every mouse click. However, the greatest event that led me to where I am today was my accidental stumbling upon Yahoo's primitive search engine.

On a boring summer night, I sat on my computer and typed the words "Peter Pan Boy" onto the white search box then clicked on the first result that appeared. Sadly I can't remember the name of that group however, what I got myself into was far greater than I had ever expected because at that exact moment, I was no longer alone. I had accidentally entered a boylove discussion group, one of the oldest on the internet and suddenly, a feeling of belonging finally swept away the loneliness I had felt myself living in since my early teenage years.

Over the next two years, I became a veteran and a well-known and respected user, engaging in discussions, exchanging my feelings and expressing my doubts, fears and aspirations with a group of likeminded people. Chemistry grew stronger between me and a few other countrymen and without realization; we were online friends, a friendship that would evolve into real life encounter, a couple of years later.

The second event that had drastic consequences and started to shape "the plan" in my head was a phone call I received on a freezing February day.

 "Mr. Berléand? Puis-je parlez avec Monsieur Berléand?"
"c'est lui qui parles"
"Ah alors Monsieur, Je suis désolé de vous dire que votre tante Annette est décédée hier"
" OK, merci de me laisser savoir"
"Attend Monsieur"
"Quoi?"
" vous êtes le seul héritier légal dans la famille, votre tante vous a laissé un manoir dans son dernier testament, il faut que tu viens a Paris si vous souhaitez devenir propriétaire "

 
"Mr. Berléand? Can I please speak with Mr. Berléand?"
"Speaking"
"Oh Ok sir, I'm sorry to let you know that your aunt Annette passed away yesterday"
"Ok, thanks for informing me"
"Wait Sir"
"Yes?"
"you are the only heir left in the family, your aunt has left you a mansion in her will, you need to travel to Paris if you wish to assume ownership"

Never in my right mind did I ever even slightly expect such a thing to happen. Annette was my father's sister and in my entire 40 years, I had met her twice, once when she came to visit and the second time at the funeral of my mom and dad who passed away in a car accident.

Long story short and after assuming property, I packed my bags and soon enough I was on the outskirts of the tiny town of Barèges, at the foot of the mighty Pyrenees, the natural borders between France and Spain. On my way to see my new property, I had learned that my late aunt had donated her large wealth to charity but decided to pass on the 'house' which I learned had been in our family for generations.

Upon arrival, my jaw dropped to the floor as I unbelievingly gazed at the sight before me. Centering a large iron fenced garden with an impressive arched gate, stood an old 18^th century three story building, the house I thought I had inherited turned out to be a large Chateau modeled in the classical French architecture.

The rectangular shaped building had a central semi-circular protruding section, defined by four impressive columns running the lengths of the three stories. A gorgeous balcony on the middle story provided cover and formed a decked patio underneath where the main door was neatly tucked. The building had a yellowish sandstone look with creamy-white Half arches decorating every single one of the many windows saturating the upper stories. At the opposing edges of the front side of the building stood two massive relief sculptures, depicting wild horses and some men yielding swords. At the very top, an awe-inspiring brown tile roof crowned  the entire structure.

Stepping inside the gate for the first time, my shock and amazement quickly turned into a frown. From afar the building gives a momentous feeling, however, getting closer I could see the extremely bad shape due to probably years of neglect, lack of maintenance and extreme weather conditions during winters. Everything was in a dire need of repair, the large garden surrounding the mansion had been invaded by weeds, overgrown plants, garbage and dead tree leaves. Climbing plants had found their way up the four corners of the house, reaching to the top floor on the eastern side of the building.

However, my biggest disappointment struck as soon as I had crossed the main door. The awe-inspiring main hall resembled a scene from some low-budget horror movie, spider-webs on most of the walls, broken wooden planks protruding from the floor, large sections of paint peeled from the wall, electrical wires dangerously peeking outside their non-existing sockets.

Inspecting every single room, nook, saloon and bathroom in this mega house, I was taken by the size and vastness of the place, even though the same hallway scenario applied; nothing was in place! not a single intact piece of furniture. Rusty chandeliers have long lost their light bulbs dangled from the ceiling, leaky pipes flooding bathroom floors… in short; the place was in a serious mess.

Distraught and somewhat disappointed by what I saw, I decided to book the first flight heading back home, leaving the place as it is, not wanting to sell nor knowing what to do with it.

---

In Chapter 2, Patrick manages to turn his initial dissapointment into a vile plan, stay tuned.