Secondhand Toyfriend (English Edition) E-Book

darkviktory

• Herausgeber: FISCHER Kinder- und Jugend-E-Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 233

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

17-year-old Damian is struggling in his relationship with his girlfriend Emma. She would like to take it to the next level, but there's a problem: He is not attracted to her physically very much. When he thinks about boys, however, things are quite different. But is he really gay? And how is he supposed to find out without cheating on Emma?  He needs a sex toy – preferably one that's packaged anonymously so that his mother doesn't find out about it. He finds what he is looking for on an online marketplace: Emil, a guy his age, has just posted such a product – more or less as a joke. But as they start chatting, something develops between them that could turn everything upside down. Authentic, full of empathy and humour, bestselling authors Marik Roeder, aka darkviktory, and Kostas Kind, both content creators and activists, tell a compelling story of discovering one's own sexuality and the challenges of coming out.

Leseprobe

darkviktory | Kostas Kind

Secondhand Toyfriend

(English Edition)

Über dieses Buch

17-year-old Damian is struggling in his relationship with his girlfriend Emma. She would like to take it to the next level, but there's a problem: He is not attracted to her physically very much. When he thinks about boys, however, things are quite different. But is he really gay? And how is he supposed to find out without cheating on Emma? 

He needs a sex toy – preferably one that's packaged anonymously so that his mother doesn't find out about it. He finds what he is looking for on an online marketplace: Emil, a guy his age, has just posted such a product – more or less as a joke. But as they start chatting, something develops between them that could turn everything upside down. 

Authentic, full of empathy and humour, bestselling authors Marik Roeder, aka darkviktory, and Kostas Kind, both content creators and activists, tell a compelling story of discovering one's own sexuality and the challenges of coming out.

Weitere Informationen finden Sie unter www.fischer-sauerlaender.de

Biografie

Marik 'Mik' Roeder, aka darkviktory, is a dramaturge, screenwriter and video producer who took off in 2014 with the award-winning animated series “TubeClash”. Whether it's an animated sitcom, an interactive audio play podcast, or gay storytime on YouTube, Mik loves telling stories. In 2019, his debut young adult novel, “One Exit,” reached number 9 on the SPIEGEL bestseller list.

Kostas Weiß, aka Kostas Kind, is a trained physiotherapist and was part of the german funk-network from 2016-2019 with his YouTube channel Kostas Kind. He then became the host of the LGBTQ+ channel Okay for the ARD and ZDF network. As a content creator, he uploads entertaining videos about being gay and his relationship with Mik, and he often deals with social and emotional topics.

Impressum

Translated by Anya Lothrop

Erschienen bei Fischer Sauerländer E-Book

© 2025, Fischer Sauerländer GmbH, Hedderichstraße 114, D-60596 Frankfurt am Main

Editor: Rebecca Kuss

Coverart and Illustrations: darkviktory 

Covergestaltung: darkviktory, in collaboration with Dahlhaus & Blommel Media Design, Vreden

Coverabbildung: darkviktory

ISBN 978-3-7336-0924-5

Dieses E-Book ist urheberrechtlich geschützt.

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Inhalt

Widmung

Prologue

Chapter 01: Damian

Chapter 02: Emil

Chapter 03: Damian

Chapter 04: Emil

Chapter 05: Damian

Chapter 06: Emil

Chapter 07: Damian

Chapter 08: Emil

Chapter 09: Damian

Chapter 10: Damian & Emil

Chapter 11: Emil

Chapter 12: Damian

Chapter 13: Emil

Chapter 14: Damian

Chapter 15: Emil

Chapter 16: Damian

Chapter 17: Damian & Emil

Epilogue: Damian

Afterword: darkviktory

Afterword: Kostas Kid

For my mother and my grandparents:

Thank you for loving, accepting, and supporting me. It has allowed me to become the person I am today.

For Ivy:

Thank you for brightening each day.

For Mara and Heide:

Thank you for your time, your feedback, and your faith in us.

For all the queer kids out there who recognize themselves in Damian and Emil:

Don’t let the system get you down!

– Kostas

Prologue

“Okay, I think I’ve got it!” I’ve got a gigantic grin on my face as he skims over the ad on my MacBook.

“You really think anyone’s going to buy something like this … on Craigslist?”

“Someone once listed the nuts they sucked out of a bar of chocolate on eBay!”

“Listing isn’t selling. S’not the same thing.”

“Sucked nuts and that?” I point to the screen. “Not that much of a difference.”

He suddenly lets out a loud laugh and I know he’s as nervous as I am: “Then why’d you do Craigslist? Could have done an eBay auction.”

“Because you actually have to get in touch with the seller. Which is sort of the whole point, right?”

I’ve reminded him of why we’re doing this in the first place, and he cracks a grin: “Right. Let’s see who’s desperate enough to take the bait.”

He pulls my MacBook toward himself and clicks Publish.

A slight shiver runs down my spine and I feel a bit sick. No idea if it’s excitement or panic. What I do know is there’s no turning back now.

Chapter 01: Damian

I’m doing this.

Today.

Today, Tuesday, the 16th of April, at 5 p.m., partly cloudy skies and 59 degrees outside, as Alexa has just informed me. “You have an appointment at 5:15 p.m.: order d. If you wimp out again today, you’re royally screwed,” she adds in her monotone, lecturing voice.

“Uh-huh,” I quietly tell the emotionless plastic ball. “Easy for you to say.”

I’ve set myself an alarm to make sure I don’t chicken out. Then you’re royally screwed. The motivational message at the end, if that’s what you want to call it, may seem a little dramatic, but it’s true, unfortunately. If I want to pull this off, I have to order “it” today. “Man, this sucks!” I nervously run my hands through my short, thick hair and feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

Why is it suddenly so hot in here?

A quick glance at my phone confirms that the temperature hasn’t changed in the past two minutes, but I yank off my black t-shirt and carelessly throw it in the corner.

Better.

Jittery, I pad over to the big skylight in my room, open it wide, and lean on the frame on my forearms. The fresh air feels good and calms my pulse. At least a little.

I should probably pick up the shirt.

Damian, you’re almost an adult! Is it too much to ask that keep your room tidy?

I can hear my mother’s nagging voice in my head and feel myself grimacing. Exactly, mom. I’m almost 18. Old enough to decide something like that for myself. And old enough for you to keep your nose out of my mail.

I frown and glance over to the empty ONE VOICEdeluxe slipcase that I’ve prepared for my secret project. My hands are sweaty, despite the cold draft. Why the hell am I so damn nervous? After all, my plan is good. I’ve spent a lot of time working it out: When the thing arrives in the slipcase, my mom will think that I’ve ordered some anime junk again even if she does open the package, and she won’t see the actual contents, right? I scrutinize the black and gold box: It’s way too rare for such a silly stunt. But I don’t have another one that’s big enough.

Why does the postal system have to be so unreliable? Guaranteed delivery, will definitely arrive at the specified time. We promise. Yeah. Promise, my ass. If all of this actually worked, I could just time the delivery for an afternoon when Mom is at school longer than me, and no sweat. Then I could skip this hassle. But the risk of her catching wind of this and me having to explain to her why I’m ordering SOMETHING LIKE THAT is just too high. The thought alone makes me shiver. And as the son of a teacher in a small town like Uferheim, it’s not like you could just go to a store and nonchalantly buy a thing like that. Okay, to be honest, I have no idea whether I’d have the guts … Doesn’t matter anyhow because just about everyone knows my mom and she would definitely get wind of it. “So have you heard what Mrs. Thoma’s son bought himself?” “I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs. Thoma, that I saw your son the other day. He was just coming out of that shop, you know …” Thanks. I think I’ll pass. And getting someone else to do it for me? Not with something like this. That’d be awkward AF.

“Guess there’s just no other way,” I mumble to myself, “and it’s not like you have a better plan, so …” Annoyed by my own waffling, I grab the laptop, open the browser, and click on my bookmarks. There it is. The ad on Craigslist I saved a few days back. “Damn”. Fingers shaking, I move the mouse to open the link …

PLING

My cell phone vibrates. A new message from my little sister. Huh? What’s she want?

Like I’m going to tell her. I really want to just ignore her message, but knowing her, that’s not going to work anyhow.

PLING PLING PLING PLING

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Love your timing, Vivi.

“Hey, not the best time. Later, kay?” I begin to type my answer, but before I can send it, my door is flung open and Vivi bursts in.

“Hey, sure, come right in …,” I huff out.

“Dami, can you help me real quick with … Oh, you’re ordering the dildo? You’re finally doing it?” She suddenly sounds really excited.

W-What did she just say? I stare at her blankly. “What the … No?!” I jump up to close the door behind her. “And stop yelling, you little brat. Mom’s going to hear you!”

“Ooops, my bad!” she says, a lot more quietly this time. “Sorry …”

On the way back to my desk, I grab my t-shirt and put it back on.

“Maybe you should be a bit more careful with that.” As if trying to get a rise out of me, she points to my laptop which is still showing the Craigslist ad.

“Thin ice, young lady,” I grumble. She just shrugs. “And by the way: bullshit! You couldn’t even see the screen when you came in.” Still, I close the laptop far enough so it goes dark before sitting on my bed. “So how’d you find out?”

“My tarot cards told me.”

“M-hm, right.” I raise my eyebrows. “Spill.”

“Fine.” She’s tightly clutching my iPad which she always borrows for drawing. “The reminder you set yourself for today also popped up here. And a quick look at your search history was the final nail in your coffin.”

Oh my God, I’m going to lose it. That’s the fucking downside to being logged in on several devices at the same time. Emails, notifications, and photos end up everywhere immediately.

“What do you want it for anyhow? Do you want to do it with a guy or something?”

Hell, man … If only I knew. “I just want to know what all the fuss is about.”

She’s thirteen and totally into Boys’ Love at the moment. Difficult combo. But maybe this way I can get her onto my side.

She gives me the side-eye, but then she hisses, “All right, fine.”

“But you can’t tell anyone about it, okay? No one!”

“Sure. Some boys like to play Xbox. So you’re different. It’s not my business what you play with.”

A quick glance at my Switch. Different, seriously? What does that even mean? Whatever. I bite my tongue. That was a close one. Though, to tell you the truth, I’d be surprised if Vivi didn’t keep her mouth shut because even though she gets on my nerves a lot, we get along quite well. Still, I really need to remember to log out of the iPad.

“So what did you want?” I try to nudge the conversation in a different direction. “Or were you just looking for an excuse to bug the hell out of me?”

“Not this time.” Indulgently, Vivi plops down on my bean bag and points the Apple Pencil at me like a magic wand. “I need you to be my model again. ‘Cause you know, you learn best from life.”

Now?

I glance over at my laptop, then look back at her. Grit your teeth and get it over with? Maybe that’s the quickest way to get rid of her.

“Oh, and take off the t-shirt!”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to see your muscles! At least that way all that working-out you do benefits the arts too, and not only your body.”

Sometimes I really wish she hadn’t become a member of our family at eight years old. If she were my biological sister, I’m sure she’d be more grossed out by me.

“Okay, forget it.”

“Why? The stupid dildo isn’t going anywhere!”

The sass! I can’t believe her. I get up with a jerk, clamp both arms around her torso, lift her out of my bean bag like a forklift, and carry her to the door. She is kind of short, less than five feet I would say. I’m a foot and a half taller than she is, so it’s a breeze for me to push her out of the room. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“All right, all right, no need to …”

I don’t let her finish her sentence and slam the door in her face.

What a pain in the ass.

***

With one hand, I hastily dig the headphones out of my school bag and shove the cable into my seriously old phone. “Okay, now don’t act up,” I threaten the piece of shit as if it will make a difference. I’m in luck, it connects immediately, and my ears are blasted with music.

I really need to get a move on. It’s almost six o’clock. If I don’t order the stupid dildo today, it might not arrive in time before the short trip with Emma, and I definitely need an answer before that. The upside to being under the gun is that it keeps my nerves in check. I’m done stressing out over this. I just want to try it without mom throwing a fit or having to talk to Emma about it. Chop-chop, Damian.

I click Reply.

I’ve been racking my brains about what to write to the seller for days. How the heck do you say something like this without it feeling super weird?

Dear Sir or Madam,

This may sound a little strange, but could you send me the article in a special box of my choice? It would be great if I could get it past my mom because … Well, I don’t think I need to explain it, do I? Haha, oh boy … Do I feel stupid! 😜

I’m not sure if that last sentence comes across as awkward, but the whole thing is so strange that I thought it might help to lighten the mood a bit.

The price is fair and I’m fine with paying for the shipping. You are literally saving my ass and helping me avoid getting into a whole uncomfortable thing!

If you have any questions, you can reach me here or at this email address: [email protected]

I would appreciate a prompt response. It is urgent.

I take one last deep breath and then click on Send with surprising resolve.

Chapter 02: Emil

“I am seriously disappointed, guys,” Coach’s raspy voice murmurs, “but not surprised either, given the shape you’re in. Fifth place at the indoor tournament? That’s just crap!”

I’m not feeling that. Fifth out of eight is better than last. I look into my boys’ faces. Coach’s words don’t seem to be affecting them as much as usual.

I smirk to myself. That’s all my doing. The air crackles with anticipation; some are impatiently rolling the practice ball back and forth between their feet while we are all sitting on the floor.

An elbow in my side. “Are you ready?” Ben, our goalie, whispers excitedly.

I just nod, but he can hardly keep it together. It’s funny, because a year ago they were all still giving me that look. The new kid. The city boy. Today, none of them doubt that I’ll pull this thing off. I keep glancing inconspicuously past Coach to the scoreboard behind him and then toward the equipment room. One minute to go. I guess I’m not the only one, because Coach barks: “Are you slackers even listening to me?”

On the other side of the dividing curtain, girls’ yapping can be heard and suddenly a smug grin spreads over my face. That is why he only let us dribble and make passes for the first half hour. Because we had the gym to ourselves. Now that the girls are waiting for dance class within earshot, he can start roasting us. Guess he’s hoping our hurt male pride will kick in and fire us up. Lucky for him that you don’t need a teaching license to be a soccer coach.

“30 seconds!” someone behind me hisses. I dig my phone out of my gym shorts and confirm the time. A notification pops up:

1 new email.

From Craigslist.

Huh?

Suddenly, hearing my own name in Coach’s rant jolts me from my thoughts.

“… should thank our goal scorer Emil. Four goals by our Blond Bullet. That’s twice as many as our team captain scored.”

A huff behind me. I can imagine who it came from. I give a nervous laugh, but dude just won’t stop talking.

“When he joined us at 16 years old, he was scrawny and inexperienced.”

Excuse me? I was a runner on the track team in Berlin. Okay, I couldn’t have cared less about soccer, but I was definitely in shape already.

“But Emil kicked his way to the top despite being … well, a bit different than the other boys.”

I can see Ben laughing impishly from the corner of my eye. “A very special boy,” he whispers, and I hear snickering.

I roll my eyes and grin. “Shut up already.”

“If someone like him can be the star player on our team these days,” Coach rambles on, “then what’s your excuse? Well?”

The next time I look at my watch, relief floods my body. It’s time. 6 p.m. on the dot, and as happens every Tuesday the loud music from the next hall over starts playing. But the girls cheer excitedly because it’s not the usual pop playlist they always warm up to. Aggressive lyrics and hip-hop beats blare through the hall at top volume. Coach in his red and white tracksuit is completely lost as all of his boys suddenly jump up and the dividing curtain rises amid the chaos. While some of the guys drop to the ground to look under the curtain, others are swaying their hips and doing dorky dance moves in front of the barrier which rises bit by bit until it no longer separates anything.

It's my turn now. I use my phone to switch all the smart plugs I distributed all over the gym before practice to ON. Each plug holds an open cable, which sounds dangerous but isn’t, because with a bang, all the fuses blow, and the power is out. Darkness. Shrieking girls and boys singing at the tops of their lungs, but the music has stopped.

Damn. That was not how I’d planned it. I thought we’d exempted that circuit.

“Can somebody please tell me what’s going on here?!” Coach roars over the chaos.

And then, dozens of string lights seem to float through the gym from the equipment room. The boys hand them out and drape them around the girls’ shoulders like jewelry.

I press Play and “Under pressure” by Queen blasts from the Bluetooth speakers I was smart enough to pack. Never rely on plan A if you want something to work. In no time, everyone is dancing and hopping, all pumped up in a sea of blinking lights. Not a trace of the tension which was dominating the room a few seconds ago.

Coach looks around with wild eyes, snorting out of control while looking for the culprit. “Emil …” But as soon as he spots me, a bunch of boys and girls gather around me.

“We figured instead of roasting us for only making fifth place, we could celebrate that we moved up two spots from last time.” I grin.

“Have you gone out of your mind? The damage …”

“There won’t be any damage,” I reply to calm him down while I set the plugs back to OFF. “As soon as you turn the fuses back on, everything is Gucci.”

Coach is fumbling for words, but when Felix and Ben head towards him from the equipment room with a filled beer boot glass wrapped with sting lights, his face relaxes. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last year, it’s that in a small town, any occasion is a good enough reason for boozing it up.

“Okay, Coach, time to party, right?”

***

It’s getting dark as I limp down the road outside the gym, using my bike as support. Damn shin, I curse to myself.

The partying lasted exactly fifteen minutes. Then Jessica, the girls’ dancing instructor, got herself all worked up about not wanting to risk no one paying for the lesson or parents complaining. So we quickly cleaned up and put everything back to normal.

When I stop to shake my leg, I think about my team and how hyped up the boys were today. Every single minute was absolutely worth it.

We spent the rest of the time practicing one on one, in pairs. Didn’t end that well for me this time … My clothes are soaked in sweat. Super sexy, huh?

At least the weather has gotten its act back together. It’s almost absurd. This morning, everything was frozen solid, now there’s only a mild breeze, making me almost too hot in my running jacket. If we’d played outdoors instead of in the gym, we would have done better. I’m a runner. The bigger the field, the more freely I can run, and the better I play.

Suddenly I hear a bunch of familiar voices approaching from behind.

“Hey, Emil, you good?” Kevin, our team’s captain. I can literally hear the wide grin in his voice. “You sure lost steam quickly today!”

“Funny, I heard that’s what Buffy said to you the other night.”

The other guys crack up laughing. Bullseye. With a peace-making grin I turn and see Kevin looking at his friends, his face bright red. They’re circling him and laughing their heads off.

“Shut the fuck up, guys!” Buzz cut, broad shoulders, and the eyes of a predator: That’s my captain. And he’s fuming. Normally, this alpha behavior would intimidate me, especially in someone with his build, but he’s dating my best friend. So I’m safe.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” I point to my beaten-up leg. “Don’t worry, it’ll be good again in no time. Just give me a heads-up the next time I’m in for a good pounding.” I throw him an exaggerated wink and despite the immature snicker coming from the others, his face remains stony.

“Better watch it, Emil,” Ben says, “my cousin’s friend is gay too and he was chained to his bed and robbed during a sex date!” He sounds more interested in telling his wild story than worried about me.

“Damn!” I give an awkward laugh, but I think: I wish! At least then I’d be seeing some sort of action. I’ve been living in a state of celibacy since we moved here. Go ahead and clear out my entire room if it means I finally get some …

Honk! Honk!

As the red-and-white van Kevin’s dad drives approaches us, I push my bike to the side and try to hide the pain in my shin the best I can. The van stops and he leans out the window: “How’s the leg, Emil? You okay?”

“Sure, Coach.”

He keeps nodding while Kevin and his crew get in the car. “Good, good. And one more thing!”

“Yes?”

“You plan anything like that again and I’ll bench you! I mean it this time!”

“Aye, aye!”

“Dad, let’s go already,” Kevin whines from the rear seat, “I’m starving.”

I half-lift my hand by way of a good-bye and turn.

Dude, the timing? Epic!

Sure, everybody’s cool with it, but there are definitely more enjoyable things than talking about gay sex with your soccer bros, okay? Especially when you’re the only out one on the team. Thank God there are places where there are more of us. And the closest one is … the internet.

I pull out my cell while I continue to limp down the road, leaning hard on my bike. Even though my phone suggests “Hilarious things only #gays will get” on TikTok, I suddenly start feeling down.

I hate when that happens. Sometimes it just hits me and kills my mood. And then I think Kevin slammed into my leg that hard on purpose because he’s worried about losing his place as the team lead. When I’m in possession of the ball, I stay in possession. But if I’m so good, why hasn’t Coach made me captain? Or co-captain? Or at least not the last person to be chosen when we scrimmage? I get along fine with everyone. We laugh. I mean, they do all like me.

I flinch because I’ve taken a weird step and almost drop my phone.

On the screen, two dudes are exaggeratedly acting out typical scenarios from their relationship. None of the scenarios require them to be half naked, but that’s not stopping them.

A tired smile, then I think: Fuck it. Fuck being down, that’s not helping anyone. Be like those two! Chill, good vibes only, and don’t take yourself too seriously. Guess I’ll just have to put in some more work. Maybe waste less time with half-naked strangers on TikTok. Most things still happen offline around here, after all.

Then van has just disappeared in the distance when my phone vibrates. It’s Buffy.

It was obvious that Coach was going to chew us out after the tournament. Buffy knows this. All this drama is just small talk. It’s only a matter of time before she spills the real beans.

Bzz. Bzz.

There’s not much that irks me more than random usernames. Some may think that’s a bit overboard. I don’t. I mean, a name says something about the person behind it. Normally, they tell you about the desires and dreams parents projected onto their offspring. But you choose your own online nickname. Who would just pick any old name? Let’s take AU-Worlds, the fandom platform Buffy and I hang out on: You can find stories and illustrations for just about any franchise: comics, games, anime, movies, you name it. A nickname that makes you look good is essential in a place like that! Even if it’s just the name of your fave character and a few numbers, maybe your birth year. Or a 69 as a joke.

My brain is in overdrive. Maybe something like DarkVenom69? Simple but meaningful: I like Spider Man, I’m edgy and I also laugh at bad jokes! No, bad idea. Could also be read as: I was born in 1969 and liked the Venom movies. I suppose the part about laughing at bad jokes would stay the same, though.

SlayQueen sounds cool, but it only works as an inside joke if you know her real name and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So I’ll only give it a B to a C- as a username because it doesn’t really tell you anything about her. It probably isn’t supposed to. Buffy is scared AF that someone will find out she’s still posting on fan pages at 19. As if anybody cares about her age. It’s not like you stop being a fan when you reach a certain age. She’s always telling me to live out and proud, but then she hides her inner geek like Peter Parker hides his spidey powers.

“Shit!” Tripped again.

Put the damn phone away, Emil.

I’m about to lock the screen when a notification catches my eye: