(No) Friends of DorothySoftcore 

As soon as he takes off his costume, Chrissy faceplants onto his mattress. He wants to cry, but he feels too relieved to be home, away from Josh, away from Matt and Matt’s new love interest. His apartment is cold. It’s always ten degrees colder inside when it’s cold outside and ten degrees hotter inside when it’s hot outside. But tonight, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to crawl under the blanket and sleep until next year.

Fred sits down next to him and gently massages Chrissy’s back. “Hey. You want me to go? I’ll go if you want to be alone.”

Chrissy turns his face sideways. “No. Please… Please stay.” They barely talked during the drive home. Chrissy was thankful for the silence in the car, but he knows he needs someone, at least right now.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Where to start, Chrissy thinks. He’s still vacillating between the explosive incident with Josh (which metastasized to him reliving the confrontation at Lick It) and the quiet implosion of seeing Matt, thriving and moving on, after so many months.

And the goddamn sweater. How dare that guy wear that sweater?

“Hey, you ever heard of Rifftrax?” Fred’s hand is still massaging Chrissy’s back.

“Wh… What?”

“Rifftrax,” Fred says. “You know, the guys from Mystery Science Theater 3000.”

Chrissy gets up on his elbows and looks at Fred. “MST3K? Seriously? That’s even before my generation.”

“Well, fire up your laptop.”

“Fred, I’m not sure I’m in the mood…”

“I promise if you’re not hooked in five minutes, we can switch to, I don’t know… Golden Girls. Or The Nanny. Or Murder She Wrote.”

Chrissy snorts. “Why is your taste so vintage?”

“Guess I just like them… more mature,” Fred wraps his arms around Chrissy and gives him tiny kisses on his face.

“I don’t know whether I should feel proud or offended,” Chrissy says, giggling.

“Turn on your laptop. I’ll go get our burritos.”

Chrissy sits up and watches Fred as he walks away. He feels a tug in his heart. Fred’s been nothing but kind, even without the promise of a full-on romantic relationship. He can’t help but feel guilty, as though he’s taking advantage of Fred.

He turns on his laptop. He’s not sure about this Rifftrax business. He was always open to seeing weird movies with Matt, and he wishes he could just stay in his comfort zone tonight. Going out of his bubble just blew up in his face. He’s not exactly crazy to try another new thing, but that’s the least he could do for Fred.

Fred returns with two plates of burritos. Chrissy tears into his. He relishes how the chile relleno burrito feels warm and fat in his hands, thankful for finally having a break from his usual meal of lentils or chickpeas.

“That good, huh?” Fred looks up from his own burrito, but Chrissy’s mouth is too full to give a proper response.

Chrissy puts down his plate and moves some boxes to make a table.

“We should get you some furniture,” Fred says.

“I don’t want to get too comfortable.” Chrissy sets up his laptop on top of a box.

“Fine.”

He sits back down and kisses Fred’s temple. He can’t let Fred know that money’s tighter than it’s ever been. Ever since he moved to one of Billy’s rental units, he swore he’d move out soon. But days turned to weeks turned to months, and his aspirations have become stale dreams.

Matt flashes in Chrissy’s mind. He has no right to be angry. He should be happy Matt’s moved on. On to better things. With a stuntman, no less. Someone who enjoys parties. Someone fun. Someone young who probably makes a lot of money living his dreams. Or at least doesn’t need to worry about rent.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Chrissy almost jumps from Fred’s hand on his lower back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Fred says.

“No.” Chrissy shakes his head. “Sorry. I was…”

“A million miles away.” Fred puts his plate of burrito next to him. “Come back to me.”

There’s nothing Chrissy wants more than to be held by Matt. But Fred’s the one who’s here. Chrissy’s body lurches forward, and he allows himself to be in Fred’s strong arms.

“I don’t deserve you,” Chrissy says as he lays his head on Fred’s shoulder. Fred is also so much younger than he is, so why was he admonishing Matt and his boytoy?

Fred responds with a belch on Chrissy’s face, followed by a maniacal cackle.

Chrissy laughs. “I really, really don’t deserve you,” he shoves Fred away and waves his hand in front of his face. “Geezus, that stinks.”

Fred reaches for Chrissy’s laptop and searches for the Rifftrax episode.

Chrissy puts on his glasses. “Don’t get my laptop dirty with your oily burrito paws.”

Fred chuckles and wipes his hands on his pants. “Yes, Mistress.” He leans back on the wall as the video starts to play.

“The Wonderful Land of Oz?” Chrissy looks at his laptop and then at Fred. “Really?”

“Fits tonight’s theme.” Fred takes a bite out of his burrito. “Give it a chance. Now shush, it’s starting.”

The film begins. At first, Chrissy just snorts. Then a giggle. Before long, Chrissy’s laughter bounces off the walls. By the end of the movie, he’s just shaking his head.

“What in the world of Oz,” Chrissy says.

“Right? Told you.”

“Thank you. That was… Well. That was that.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Chrissy climbs on top of Fred and starts kissing him, but pulls away after a moment.

“Curious. That movie didn’t have either Dorothy or the Cowardly Lion.”

“Well,” Fred says as he puckers his lips and scrunches his forehead. “Maybe the Cowardly Lion is out there bashing Dorothy’s skull.”

Chrissy snorts and giggles. “You’re fucked up, you know that?”

He kisses Fred, but pulls away again.

“Fred, I like you.” Chrissy holds Fred’s hand. “I do. But I… I don’t think I’m ready to be in love again, and I don’t want to lead you on.”

Fred intertwines his fingers with plays with Chrissy’s. “Baby, you’re not leading me on. I’m here because I really like spending time with you. And yeah. My feelings for you, they grow every day. But I understand and respect your boundaries.”

“Thank you.”

“But I still get to fuck you, right?” Fred pinches Chrissy’s nipple.

Chrissy moans and giggles. “Yes, please.”

“And you’ll still send me sexy pics and videos, right?”

“Or you could just take them. You’re the photographer.”

“Dirty slut.” Fred laughs and kisses Chrissy’s lips. With one move, he lays Chrissy underneath him and takes off his Tin Man sweater. He plants his lips back on Chrissy’s and spreads Chrissy’s legs. “Someone’s horny,” he says as he grabs Chrissy’s tiny, hard dick. He smiles as Chrissy moans and puts his fingers in Chrissy’s open mouth. With his wet fingers, he traces Chrissy’s body, circling his nipple, flicking his dicklet, before roughly inserting them in Chrissy’s cunt.

Chrissy’s moans become louder as Fred’s fingers assault his hole, jamming in and out, in and out, before removing them and putting them in Chrissy’s mouth again.

“You like that, bitch?” Fred grins as he looks straight into Chrissy’s eyes. His other hand pulls at Chrissy’s pink hair. “Yeah, you like that, dontcha? Dontcha, skank?”

Chrissy can only nod. His mouth is full of Fred’s fingers. His brain breaks the moment he tastes his own cunt juices.

“Nasty whore,” Fred says and jams his wet fingers back into Chrissy’s cunt. “What a nasty, nasty fuckin’ whore you are.”

Chrissy moans, urging Fred to fuck him harder with his fingers, then he opens his eyes and screams. “Billy! What the hell?”

Fred turns around and sees Billy grinning by the mattress. “Dude, can’t you knock?”

“I texted the two of you for like ten minutes. The door was unlocked. And I can hear you moan from outside.”

Chrissy and Fred exchange a look and laugh. It feels like a déjà vu. They sit upright. Fred covers Chrissy up with the blanket.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen him buck naked, Fred.” Billy rolls his eyes and sits down on the floor. “Jeez. We should get you some furniture.”

“I told him that,” Fred says.

“It’s fine,” Chrissy says, tying back his hair in a bun. “It’s not like I have guests often.”

For a moment, the room falls silent. Billy sits cross-legged, staring at his feet. Chrissy suspects Billy wants to discuss what happened earlier with Josh. But his encounter with Matt weighs more on his mind.

“Chrissy, I…” Billy says. “About Josh. I’m so sorry. I…”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do your research on him,” Fred says. “I mean, you’re usually so good at this.”

Billy sighs. “I did. And… after that incident with Chrissy. I mean… Not that we lost any customers…”

“Yeah, I don’t think people who need dildos or lube really care about what’s happening in the Middle East.” Fred squeezes Chrissy’s shoulder.

Chrissy’s body tenses. That one point in his life, that viral video, that confrontation at Takeshi’s ice cream store, it’ll haunt him for the rest of his life. And what’s worse, it’ll continue to haunt people close to him. The blowout with Josh proves it.

“No, you’re right,” Billy says. “But… I thought Josh, with his leftist persona, would kind of… widen our audience, you know?”

“How did you even get him to agree to come to the party anyway?” Fred says. “I mean, he obviously should’ve known that Chrissy used to collab with Priapus.”

Chrissy can feel the tension growing in his tiny bedroom. He looks at the two men back and forth as they volley sentences like some kind of tennis match.

Billy clears his throat. “He wanted to go to the party to network. I… I told him I’d pay for his ticket.”

“Did he even ask who was going?” Fred says. “I mean, he should’ve known going as Dorothy would mean having at least three other people.”

Billy lowers his gaze again. “He did. I… I said we’d be going with my staff from Priapus.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Billy.” Fred smacks his own forehead.

“Fred, please…” Chrissy squeezes Fred’s hand.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Billy says. “I didn’t think he’d do something like that. I thought I could…”

“What? Control Josh?” Fred scoffs.

“Fred, please,” Chrissy says, a little bit louder. He squeezes Fred’s hand a bit harder.

“It’s not like that!” Billy’s voice is raised, almost pointed.

“So what is it? You dragged Chrissy into all of this because you wanted some more business?”

“Jesus, fuck. Just stop, you guys. Please.” Chrissy can’t stand it anymore. Billy and Fred are thick as thieves. They’re friends first, business partners second. But now they’re arguing. Because of him.

He takes a deep breath.

“Look, Fred, thank you for defending me, but Billy didn’t drag me into all this. I dragged him. I dragged Priapus down. Billy, I understand it’s just business, and I accept your apology. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Josh.”

The room falls silent again for a moment.

“You need to stop blaming yourself,” Fred puts his arm around Chrissy and squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m not. I promise I’m not. I mean, I do, but not in this context. I was just stating a fact.”

Billy rubs his eyes and yawns. “For what it’s worth, I really liked our costume.”

Chrissy forces a smile. “Yeah, they turned out okay.”

Maybe one day he can wear it and make better memories with it, ones that don’t involve a chance meeting with an ex and seeing that ex moving on with life.

But the tension has melted away. The two men are friends again. And Matt returns to Chrissy’s thoughts. Billy (or Fred, Chrissy’s mind is elsewhere) says something dumb and everyone laughs.

After Billy’s gone home, after Fred’s fallen asleep next to him, Chrissy swipes open his phone. He dreads checking his bank account. He can’t remember the last time he put money in it.

He looks at the message a user sent him on OnlyDolls earlier, just before the night unraveled.

Fifteen bucks were attached to the message. Plus a promise of more. A lot more. A thousand dollars more.

A thousand dollars will get him a long way.

Fred’s arm feels heavy, but secure. Like a deadbolt. It’s different from the way Matt, or Wade, used to spoon him.

Matt.

Chrissy never worried about money when he was with Matt.

He cringes. Has he always been so materialistic? Did he like Matt for the life he provided? No. It couldn’t be. He’d been with Matt long before any of this.

The OnlyDolls message shows a photo of a paper: a phone number and the words “text me.”

He memorizes the phone number and opens his messaging app. He knows it could go both ways.

Some creators were able to build their brand away from OnlyDolls. Some faded back into obscurity. It’s like Schrodinger’s cat but for porn. The image tickles his brain, a brief respite from the realization that he could be homeless anytime soon.

A thousand dollars means something else to eat other than canned chickpea sandwiches.

For a while, the blank screen of his messaging app stares back at him, the glow assaulting his eyes.

A thousand dollars means second-hand furniture for his bare, Spartan apartment.

He types the phone number.

But most importantly, a thousand dollars means rent.

He blinks and takes a deep breath.

“Hey, stud. It’s Chrissy/OnlyDolls.”