The September meeting of the Gay Self-Protection League was called to order by its president, C.K. Dexter Havens III, in its usual meeting-place, the basement rec. room of the Havens mansion. The GSPL maintained a very low profile. Its very existence was known only to its members.

Every member had, in one way or another, been a victim of gay-bashing. In the case of President Havens, the gay bashers had been his own parents who had had him castrated as soon as they discovered that he was homosexual. His father, C.K. Dexter Havens, jr. had intended to cut his son out of his will and leave the entire estate to his straight younger brother Randall Kensett Havens.

However, before he got around to doing this, he, his wife Irmintrude, and the said Randall Kensett were killed in an automobile accident on the way to the airport to deliver Randall to his freshman year at Calvinist University. Thus, C.K.D. III became a wealthy young man and decided to apply some of his wealth to defending and protecting other gays from abuse. For this purpose, he had founded the Gay Self-Protection League.

The meeting having been called to order, President Havens announced "I'd like to entertain a motion to table all reports until the October meeting." Ken Jackson sang out "So moved." and Lee Witherspoon added "Second". "It is moved and seconded that all reports be tabled to the October meeting. All those in favour signify by saying Aye." There was a chorus of "Aye"s. "Contrary Minded ?" There was silence.

"The motion is carried unanimously.

The one item on the agenda is an update on the condition of Elmo Fitch and a proposal to 'discipline' the notorious gay-basher, Roger Savage. As you'll soon see, these two constitute a single item. Elmo is to be discharged from the hospital early next week. His injuries are grievous. He was viciously beaten by an 'unidentified' assailant and then nullified with a hunting knife.

I spoke to him this morning. He told me the same thing he told the police: that he had not seen his assailant's face which was concealed by a black cloth. He also told me, however, which he did not mention to the police, that his assailant had spoken to him and threatened him with death, and that he had recognized the man's voice. I told him that, if he wanted to testify against the man, we would protect him. He doubted that we could . Then he told me "All I'll say is that it was a........Savage........attack."

As a bottom, Elmo is not greatly distressed by the loss of his genitals. He still has enough of his penis to masturbate and can take testosterone if he needs it to enjoy anal sex. However, he is terrified of Roger and wants to move as far away as possible as soon as he recovers.

I want to bring three other attacks reasonably attributable to Roger Savage to your attention also. In none of them is the evidence against Roger Savage good enough to bring him to justice in a court of law. However, we are not bound by the rules of evidence. A reasonable presumption of guilt is all we need to justify retribution.

First, there is the case of the late Jerry Farrell. For those of you who didn't know him, Jerry was openly but not provocatively gay. He was never 'in your face' about it. Roger Savage threatened him before witnesses and told him "Only real men need cocks and balls, not fairies like you."

An 'unidentified assailant' beat him nearly to death in Chesney Park at twilight one evening and amputated Jerry's penis, taking it with him so that it could not be re-attached. Jerry had once told me that he considered himself bisexual and hoped eventually to marry and have a family. Whether he was deceiving himself or not, I don't know, but I think he actually believed it.

As soon as he was able to walk, Jerry walked out onto the Anantahoosic River bridge and was seen by a motorist to vault over the railing to his death on the rocks 300 feet below .

Nobody knows exactly what happened to Lenny Burnside. He was a shy, withdrawn, very effeminate boy whom Roger taunted mercilessly and incessantly. He was found badly beaten and nullified on Claybourne St. He suffered a complete emotional breakdown and has been in the state mental hospital at Northridge ever since. He has never been able to give a coherent account of the attack.

The third victim is here this evening. He will speak only on condition that everyone here unanimously agrees never to mention a single word of his account outside of this room. He, too, is afraid of being murdered by Roger Savage. Is there a resolution to keep every word of his testimony here this evening absolutely confidential ?"

It was resolved and passed unanimously with no abstentions that the testimony which the League was about to receive would be kept absolutely confidential. A tall slender young man with dull-blond hair, pale greyish-blue eyes, and a wispy unsuccessful mustache rose. "I'm Sylvan Effingham. I've tried to stay in the closet, but I was outed by a thoughtless jock I found attractive. After I'd given him the best head he'd ever had, by his own admission, he just couldn't resist bragging about it.

A few days later, I passed Roger Savage and some of his cronies on the sidewalk. Roger called out "Well, if it isn't the Fairy Queen." I gave him the finger and retorted

"Fuck you, Roger." He glared at me and said "Watch it, Pussy Boy or I may fuck you."

I sighed and replied "Promises, promises, that's all I get, just promises." Things were starting to look ugly, so I slipped away into the crowd.

About three weeks later (I think that, in the interim, Roger was watching my comings and goings.) , on my way home from a church fellowship meeting, I took my usual shortcut through the athletic field of Weber High School. I didn't notice the darkly-clad figure sitting in the bleachers until I was nearly alongside them. Suddenly, a man with a scarf wrapped around his face jumped out and began punching me. I tried to fight back though he was much bigger than I.

My resistance seemed to infuriate him and he kicked me in the balls. I screamed and doubled over and he kneed me in the face which stunned me momentarily. I fell over backward and lay on my back, helpless for the moment. My assailant raised his foot and stamped on my groin. I screamed again and clutched at my sex organs. He was just raising his foot to stamp on me again when a police cruiser which neither of us had noticed parked at the north end of the field came roaring toward us with all its lights flashing and its siren wailing.

My attacker darted behind the bleachers where he would be hard to see and, as he did so, growled "If you rat on me, Effingham, I'll kill you." It was Roger Savage's voice. I was writhing on the ground holding my genitals with both hands, screaming and retching. By the time the police cruiser reached me, though, I was unconscious.

I guess that he decided that it was more important to get medical aid for me than to try to chase my attacker in the darkened woods behind the bleachers. I awoke in the Emergency Room of St. Martin's Hospital, still in great pain. I was soon given an anaesthetic and awoke again some hours later, in much less pain. The policeman asked me if I could identify my assailant. I told him that I never saw the man's face which was wrapped in a scarf and that I wasn't willing to accuse anyone without evidence that could stand up in court.

From what I've heard this evening, I got out of it in much better shape than most of his victims. I still have one testicle which, though damaged, still produces an adequate amount of testosterone. My sperm count is very low, but, being gay, I'm not much concerned about that. My penis is mishapen but functions satisfactorily anyhow. Unlike the victims of some of these other attacks, I KNOW for certain that my assailant was Roger Savage."

President Havens thanked Sylvan for his report and then asked "Is there anyone here who has any doubt in his mind that Roger Savage is the perpetrator of these heinous attacks ? If so, let him now speak or henceforth hold his peace. Hearing no one, I assume that we are, then, of one mind in this matter. It is time that Roger Savage was made to suffer as his victims have suffered. I have a plan which I beg your indulgence to present. This is what I have in mind................................."

On Friday evening, Roger Savage followed his usual routine. He walked to McGinnis' Tavern and proceeded to tie one on by downing six shots of rye whiskey, each followed by a Bud. chaser, in a period of two hours. Inasmuch as he wasn't driving, he could get as drunk as he liked, at least until Pat, the bartender, refused to serve him any more booze, it being illegal to sell liquor to an intoxicated person.

Leaving the tavern around 10:00 PM, Roger took his usual shortcut through Chesney Park, entering the park through a gap in the fence on Greenway Street, and walking straight (or as nearly so as he could stagger) through the woods to Serpentine Trail, which sensible folk avoided at night because of the frequency of assaults and rapes there. Roger didn't have to worry about assults and rapes inasmuch as he was their perpetrator.

He turned right and proceeded southward on the trail. Soon he came to the darkest part of the trail where, except on very bright moonlit nights, one needed either cats' eyes or a flashlight to stay on the trail. Roger relied on experience and habit to stay on the trail. He didn't need them for long. Suddenly, seven men in dark work clothes, wearing ski masks jumped out in front of him and seized him.

Roger Savage was not the kind of man to call for help, not that any would have come, anyhow. He struggled with the men, but his drunkenness and the seven-to-one odds put him at a distinct disadvantage. When he did open his mouth to yell, it was immediately stuffed with a ball gag which was tied behind his neck. Without thinking, he reached back to try to untie it. Four men grabbed his arms and pulled them behind him. His wrists were swiftly tied together. At the same time, two men hobbled his ankles with a short length of rope. Roger was helplessly hog-tied.

Two men held him from behind while five men wearing work gloves with chains wrapped around them proceeded to work him over. Punches rained on his face and chest but conspicuously avoided his genitals. In short order, his nose was broken, all of his front teeth were knocked out, both lips were split and torn, his jaw was broken, both eyes were blacked and his left cheek bone was fractured.

The blows to his chest broke five of his ribs, three on the right and two on the left, carefully avoiding the area over the heart. It was a brutal and disfiguring beating which took most of the fight out of Roger while leaving him more-or-less conscious. The men holding him from behind tried to bend Roger over at the waist but he resisted until somebody punched him in the groin and made him double over.

As soon as he did so, one of his assailants straddled his neck so that Roger was pinioned like a cow in a stall. He felt someone unbuttoning and unzipping his low-rise jeans and pulling them down to his ankles, Next his tighty whiteys were pulled down exposing his ass. Suspecting what was about to happen, Roger squeezed his buns together as hard as he could. It didn't do any good. He felt something big, stiff, and hot forcing its way between his buns and into his tight virgin sphincter.

Trying to resist rape, Roger began to struggle. The man straddling his neck squeezed his thighs together compressing Roger's carotid arteries so that he nearly fainted. As he began to faint, the boner in his behind breached his sphincter and was forced painfully into his rectum. And so, Roger learned how it felt to be raped.

As the boner was forced further and further into his insides, Roger began to feel strange erotic sensations which filled him with consternation.

As the rapist's penis touched a certain especially sensitive spot in Roger's rectum, the sensations peaked and he found himself fighting an impending orgasm. Whatever parts of his face weren't bloody became crimson with embarrassment. Worse yet, he was fairly sure that he was getting a hard-on. The rapist was now rubbing the head of his cock back and forth over that sensitive spot [Roger's prostate gland, of course] driving Roger to the brink of a very unwelcome orgasm.

Try as he might, though, Roger could NOT resist the orgasm. Suddenly, cum bursted out of his rigid cock and spurted in long rope-like streams between the ankles of the man pinioning his neck. The man who was raping him could feel the contractions of Roger's aching sphincter and his prostate gland. Roger heard a deep masculine voice behind him say,"Hey, he's enjoying it. Looks like we got us a crypto-faggot here." Roger was so mortified that he wished that the Earth would open and swallow him up.

Finally, the rapist began to shake and grunt. Roger guess that he was cumming, but didn't feel any liquid being shot into his gut. He realized then that the man was wearing a rubber [not to prevent transmitting an STD but to avoid leaving any identifiable DNA in Roger's ass] . As the gism-filled condom was pulled out through his sore sphincter, Roger was glad that THAT was over. He soon realized, though, that this was only the beginning. He was to be gang-raped.

After each of the six men had had his way with Roger, five of them returned for sloppy seconds, so that Roger was raped 11 times in all and, during this ordeal, had experienced four orgasms. His asshole was bleeding and felt as if it were on fire, but, now that they had had their way with him, surely, they'd let him go.

But, no, they dragged him over to a large oak tree and pulled up his tighty whiteys and his jeans. For a moment, his hands were untied, but they were immediately pulled around the trunk behind him and tied again. His feet were similarly briefly untied and pulled apart and back around the tree trunk and retied, so that he was tied to the tree with his thighs widely separated and his crotch wide open and vulnerable. The tight briefs and the even tighter low-rise jeans packed his genitals together into a compact package .

Now, the men who had beaten him before wrapped the chains around their gloves again . Roger realized with growing horror what they were about to do, and that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. One of the men approached Roger, brought his chain-wrapped fist behind his hip, and then drove it up under Roger's package. Roger screamed through his nose, which was audible only about five feet away. As the men filed past Roger they unleashed a flurry of low blows onto his genital bulge, rapidly flattening it. Soon, his package, originally about the size of a baseball, had been reduced to a structureless, flat, bloody spot on the front of his jeans.

Between screaming through his nose and retching, Roger had been frantically swallowing his puke to keep from drowning in it. About the time that his sex organs had been smashed into an unrecognizeable pulp, Roger passed out. One of the men removed Roger's cell 'phone from his pocket with his gloved hand and entered 911 on the keypad. Quickly, he told the dispatcher where Roger Savage was and in what condition and then signed off and put the 'phone back in Roger's pocket.

Roger's assailants left him tied to the oak tree and walked up the Serpentine Trail to the north end of the park where they quickly exited and filed into a van which was parked under a dead street light.

One of the male nurses in the Intensive Care Unit at St. Martin's Hospital was a member of the GSPL and at the October meeting was able to give the members a fairly complete report on Roger Savage's condition and prognosis.

Before the attack in Chesney Park, Roger had been fairly handsome. Nurse Chester Fairbairn reported that he now bore a family resemblance to Quasimodo. He would probably look better when the extensive bridgework was done to replace all of his front teeth, but that had to wait on the healing of his broken jaw which would never be straight again.

Roger's nose was displaced to the left above the bridge and the right below it. The fracture of his left cheekbone distorted his left eye socket so that his eyes looked in different directions and he would have to wear an eye patch for the rest of his life. Unless he had expensive plastic surgery, the scars across his lips would always show.

On the other hand, his ribs had healed quite well and were giving him only minor pain. Roger's external genitalia had been totally obliterated. Nothing could be saved. His urethra had had to be re-routed into the perineum so that he would have to sit to urinate.

Roger had expressed the strong desire to sell his home and move to another city as soon as he was able to travel which would probably be in about five more weeks. It was generally agreed by the members that Roger Savage no longer constituted a threat to the gay community.

As so often had happened in the past in such cases, Roger Savage could not identify any of his assailants. Neither could he give the police any motive for the brutal attack. In fact, he had told Lieutenant Carluccio "I didn't realize that I had an enemy in the world." The meeting was adjourned after a solid ten minutes of laughter.