A/N: This story is dedicated to TrudiRose, who really wanted to read a fanfic that explored the idea of Gaston being secretly gay and treated it in a serious manner. She inspired and motivated me to write this story.

This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but it was getting kind of long so I decided to split it into four parts. Part two will be up soon.

Part One

As the clock struck twelve on the first day of summer, Gaston Dubois, an unusually tall four year old boy, pulled back his blankets and slowly climbed out of bed. He picked up a light coat that had been lying on the floor and pulled it on over his nightclothes. He slipped his feet into a pair of black hunting boots, gently pushed his bedroom door open a crack, and peered outside. His thirteen year old sister, Sabine, was sprawled across the settee, snoring softly. He carefully pushed his bedroom door completely open and slowly tiptoed to the front door.

He stepped out into the warm summer air and took off down the street. It was a particularly dark night, and the only light came from the tavern at the end of the street. As he approached the tavern, he noticed a light coming from a nearby alleyway. Overcome with curiosity, Gaston peered down the alleyway, which was lit only by a single lantern, and noticed two men locked in an embrace. Gaston blinked in confusion. He had never seen two men kissing before. He crept closer and recognised them as being two of his father's friends, Remi and Patrick. Patrick had both of his large, thick arms wrapped around the Remi's waist. Remi rested one hand on the other man's buttocks as he ran the fingers on his other hand through Patrick's hair.

"Hi, Uncle Remi! Hi, Uncle Patrick!" Gaston called.

The two men broke apart and glanced over at Gaston, as looks of utter horror spread across their faces. Gaston waved to them and continued on his way. He pushed open the door of the tavern and wandered inside. A cacophony of male voices and clinking glasses filled the large room. Gaston navigated around the legs of the various tavern patrons, searching for his father.

"Paul, isn't that your boy?" he heard a voice say.

Gaston looked up and saw his father, a tall, muscular man with long black hair and piercing blue eyes, staring at him.

"Gaston, what are you doing here?" his father asked. "Sabine was supposed to watch you."

"She fell asleep. I wanted to come and visit you, Papa," Gaston told him.

"Silly girl," his father muttered. "I'll deal with her when I get home."

Paul allowed Gaston to climb up onto his knee and ruffled his son's soft, dark hair. The barmaids rushed over to admire Gaston and swoon over his dimples and freckled cheeks. There was nothing Gaston loved more than attention. He basked in their praises, and didn't even mind when one of the older barmaids pinched his cheeks.

"Here, Gaston, drink this," said his father, handing him a tall glass containing an amber-coloured liquid.

"What is it?" asked Gaston, eyeing it curiously.

"It's apple juice," Paul told him. "Drink it."

Gaston raised the glass to his lips and took a swig. Whatever that liquid was, it was definitely not apple juice. The bitter taste burned his mouth and made him gag. The liquid spluttered out of his mouth and onto the floor. The entire tavern erupted in laughter

"The poor boy," cried one of the barmaids. "How could you be so mean to such an adorable little thing?"

"You better learn to handle your liquor, Gaston, or you'll never be a real man," said one of his father's friends.

"Where on earth are Remi and Patrick?" asked Paul suddenly. "They were here five minutes ago."

"I saw them outside," Gaston piped up. "They were kissing, Papa!"

"What did you say?" asked Paul, his eyes widening.

"I saw Uncle Remi and Uncle Patrick kissing," said Gaston innocently. "I didn't know men kissed each other too."

Paul stood up, allowing Gaston to fall from his lap, and strode outside, with a handful of his cronies following close behind. He returned a few moments later, holding Patrick by one wrist and Remi by the other. He hurled them both violently to the floor.

"You filthy cretins. You ought to be locked up," Paul hissed, before he turned to face his cronies. "Get D'arque! I can't have them here corrupting my son."

Six tall, muscle-bound men each pinned Remi and Patrick to opposite ends of the tavern as three smaller men rushed out of the tavern to fetch the asylum keeper.

"Come, Gaston, you need to go back to bed."

Paul took Gaston's hand and led him out of the tavern.

"Papa, what are they doing to those men?" asked Gaston, glancing back at the tavern, confused.

"Those aren't men, Gaston," Paul growled. "They're abominations. They're deviants. Don't worry. Monsieur D'arque will get them the help they need."

It had been nine years since the night that Patrick and Remi had been locked up. Gaston was now a boy of thirteen and he had grown into the young man that his father had always hoped he would be. His childhood had been a pleasant one for the most part. He had spent his days hunting with his father and exploring the forests, fields, and streams that surrounded his village with the other young boys who lived in the village. He was already an extraordinarily accomplished hunter and his father boasted about his superior skills to anyone who would listen. Gaston had earned the respect and admiration of every other young boy in the village. He had even gained a loyal sidekick in the form of a short, stocky, rotund boy named LeFou(Gaston had never bothered to learn his full name). LeFou was roughly a year younger than Gaston and followed the taller boy everywhere. He was fairly weak and insecure, and did not possess many impressive skills of his own, so he chose to follow Gaston everywhere, leaching off the multitude of attention the taller boy was given.

It was a ridiculously hot mid-summer day and Gaston was on his way to bathe in the river and, as usual, LeFou was following him. In the distance, he saw three other boys who lived in the village peeking over a tall bush, clearly fixated on whatever they were looking at.

"Gaston, look!" exclaimed LeFou. "It's Claude, Dio, and Tom. I wonder what they're looking at.".

LeFou quickly ran over to where they were standing.

"What're you guys doing?" he asked excitedly.

Tom turned around and quickly shushed him. LeFou and Gaston knelt down next to the other three boys and peered over at what they were looking at. A bare-bodied young woman with a thin waist, wide hips, and two enormous pink breasts was lying on the riverbank, dangling her two slender, lily-white feet in the crystal clear water. Gaston frowned. He didn't see anything particularly fascinating about the sight he saw before him. The female body was weak, feeble, and unimpressive. Yet the other boys couldn't take their eyes off her. LeFou was practically drowning in a pool of his own saliva. Claude had placed both of his hands over his crotch, clearly trying to hide the growing bulge in his trousers.

"Gaston!"

Gaston turned around and saw his older sister Sabine rushing towards him.

"Papa wants you to come home now," she told him. She peered behind him curiously. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Gaston said quickly. He glanced back at the other boys, none of whom had taken an eye off the naked woman, and allowed Sabine to lead him back to their house where he found his father sitting on the settee in the living room next to tall, balding, muscular man. A mess of dirty dishes and empty bottles sat on the small table in front of them. Another man, who appeared to be a good deal younger than the other and possessed a long mane of chocolate brown hair, stood staring out the window.

"Ah, Gaston," declared Paul when he saw his son enter the house. "This is Leon, an old friend of mine, and this is his son, Jerome."

The younger man turned around and grinned at Gaston, revealing a set of perfect, white teeth. He moved forward to shake Gaston's hand, allowing him to get a good glimpse of his piercing hazel eyes.

"Gaston, get your gun," ordered his father. "We're going hunting before dinner."

Gaston quickly retrieved his gun from his bedroom and hastily ran back out to the living room where the three men were waiting for him with their own guns.

"Sabine!" Paul barked at his daughter. "We'll be back in two hours. Make sure you have this mess cleaned up by then."

Gaston and the three men departed, leaving Sabine alone in the house, and started to walk towards the border of the village.

"Your daughter is rather comely, Paul," commented Leon.

"Indeed, she is quite the little housekeeper as well," said Paul proudly. "She would be an ideal wife and mother. My own wife died soon after Gaston was born, and Sabine raised her brother all by herself."

Gaston stared up at Paul in surprise. He had never seen his father compliment Sabine to her face. He usually berated her at every opportunity he got.

"I'm surprised you're so eager to get her married, Paul," said Leon. "Who's going to cook and clean for you when she's gone?"

"She has just turned twenty-two. If I don't get her married off now, she will never land a husband," said Paul. "I can pay one of the village girls to do our housework."

"What do you think of her, Jerome?" asked Leon, turning to his son.

"I haven't been able to spend much time with her, but she seems to be an agreeable, pleasant young lady," said Jerome. "And, as you said, she is exceedingly attractive. She will make a good wife."

"Then it's settled," declared Leon. "Jerome will marry your Sabine sometime next autumn."

It was a successful day of hunting overall. Gaston made off with two large stags, three geese, and a wolf, while the other three men had only managed to score a doe each. Paul couldn't help but beam with pride as he helped Gaston carry the animals' lifeless carcasses. As they were heading back to the house, they decided to stop off at the river for a swim. Leon and Paul dived in first, not even bothering to remove their clothing. Gaston pulled off his shirt and turned around to jump into the river. His jaw dropped. Jerome had removed every single item of clothing and was standing on the riverbed, basking in the sunlight. Every inch of his torso bulged with muscles. His golden brown skin gleamed with sweat. His long muscular arms were as thick as tree-trunks. His flaccid member was hanging proudly between his beefy thighs.

Gaston felt his trousers grow tight and he quickly ducked behind a bush. He stared down at the bulge in his pants in horror. The other boys in his village had often discussed the various ways their appendages reacted whenever they saw an attractive woman, but he had never heard of anyone having this reaction to a man. Men who partook in carnal activities with other men were unnatural and immoral. At least that's what his father said.

There was nothing wrong with admiring the body of another man, Gaston quickly told himself. The men that his father often spoke about were deviants who needed to be locked up in mental asylums to protect the decent portion of society. Gaston supposed that every man had these thoughts, but only the truly insane were crazy and immoral enough to act on them.