“Ok. What’s the ‘Dick Diddler’ about?” Matt asked.
“Dad suspected I was gay before I knew it myself. He says queers get off by diddling dicks.”
“I guess that makes everyone in this room a dick diddler,” Matt laughed.
Paul snickered. He was loosening up.
“When did your dad start calling you R2-D2?”
“When I was twelve. That was the year I got diagnosed. Same year dad decided I was queer.”
“That was the last time anyone called you by your given name? Six years ago?”
Paul nodded. “Until I came here.”
“Why? Why did your dad go to such extremes with this nickname?”
“He’s Paul Olson Sr. I was his junior. He couldn’t stand the idea that his namesake is a retarded queer. Deleting me was cheaper than hiring a lawyer to legally change my name.”
Harley and Todd audibly gasped. Matt saw Kevin reach a hand under his mask and wipe away tears. William shook his head in disgust.
Matt sighed with relief. His role as inquisitor was over.
Matt wanted to demonstrate his solidarity with Paul, something more than just removing a single article of clothing. Paul had stripped emotionally, baring his soul before the club. The least Matt could do was to strip off his remaining clothes as a sign of support for his friend.
The other members had the same idea. One by one they stood, quietly shedding their clothes, piling them at their feet in silent tribute to the boy who had almost been deleted.
The vote that followed was a mere formality. The members unanimously approved Paul’s candidacy.
Chapter 21: Sloppy Seconds
Saturday, September 16, 1995
Matt stood in the little group of nearly naked guys who had gathered around Paul, introducing themselves, shaking his hand or hugging him. Nearly naked because Todd had retained his red necktie. Jake still wore his blue high tops.
Paul, of course, remained clothed. Barefoot, but otherwise clothed.
Matt smiled. Paul had come a long way in a very short time. Like Matt himself, Paul was growing, evolving.
“No hard feelings?” Matt asked Paul when it was his turn to congratulate him.
Paul weighed his answer. “I still feel angry. I know that’s not fair of me. You did what you had to do—to help me.”
Matt understood. He had ripped away a bandage that concealed an ugly, festering wound. Ripped it away without warning. Such things were always painful in the short-term.
Matt leaned in for a hug. He whispered in Paul’s ear. “Look around, dude. You’re the only guy not naked. Take off your clothes. You’re one of us now.”
Paul grinned, started undressing.
Matt moved away. He had a question for Todd. Paul was in good hands.
Todd hovered near the back of the group. Without his fishnet stockings and garter belt, he was the shy, uncertain village virgin he’d seemed at Matt’s interview. Matt found it endearing this time around.
Matt noticed something he had missed when he’d seen Todd naked before. The guy was uncircumcised! His scrotum and groin were as bald as his head was thick with dark, softly curled hair. His dick, with its foreskin drawn tight over the glans, seemed disproportionately small—like the penis on Michaelangelo’sDavid. It was a short, wormy, Vienna sausage-sized thingthat rested atop the scrotum, unable even to dangle over it—a top knot as opposed to a ponytail.
Matt was entranced. An image flashed across his mind: Todd, in his garter belt and fishnet stockings, freed of his black thong underwear, standing. Matt fucking him from behind. Todd’s limp dick bouncing with each hard thrust of Matt’s cock.
Matt’s cock started to harden. There was no hiding it. It would figure out nothing was happening anytime soon—if at all. This setting—ten young, naked, gay guys with a group ethos of mutual dick diddling—was rife with cocks prairie-dogging up for a look-see, getting bored, and settling back down.
