The other room was smaller, a secondary green room that had probably been used for storage before someone shoved a few ratty couches and a folding table inside. The overhead light flickered occasionally, casting the space in uneven washes of yellow that made everyone look slightly sick. Mort didn't care. Mort was too busy being absolutely furious.
He sat on a low stool in the center of the room, surrounded by the remaining fans who hadn't been picked for Corey's special group. There were about ten of them, a mix of eager femboys who had been more than happy to settle for the angry little guitarist after the main event slipped through their fingers. Mort's blunt bob haircut was perfectly still even as his hands moved with brutal efficiency. His dark eyes swept across the room like he was calculating exactly how much force it would take to bite through every single cock in his immediate vicinity.
"You," Mort snapped, pointing at a lanky femboy with a nose ring and trembling hands. "Get over here. Now. And don't fucking talk."
The femboy scrambled forward, his massive ass jiggling with every hurried step. Mort grabbed his tiny cocklet without ceremony, fingers wrapping around the modest length with zero gentleness. He started stroking immediately, fast and hard, the dry friction making the femboy gasp and buck into his grip.
"Ahhh—Mort—that's—your hands are so—"
"Shut up," Mort said flatly. "I didn't give you permission to make sounds."
Another femboy approached from the left, this one shorter with bright purple hair and a nervous smile. Mort's other hand shot out and grabbed his cocklet too, stroking in the same rapid, punishing rhythm. The short femboy moaned instantly, high and breathy, his hips jerking forward.
"I said shut up," Mort growled, squeezing harder on both cocks until the femboys whimpered. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, staring at nothing, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek. The rhythmic schlick schlick schlick of his hands filled the small room, wet with the steady drip of precum now slicking his palms.
A third femboy shuffled forward, positioning himself directly in front of Mort. He was thicker than the others, soft all over with a round belly and plump thighs, his tiny cocklet hard and leaking as it bobbed inches from Mort's face. Mort stared at it with pure, unfiltered hatred. The kind of look most people reserved for traffic jams or surprise bills. The cocklet twitched under his gaze, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.
"You're all so fucking pathetic," Mort muttered, his hands never slowing on the two cocks he was stroking.
"Standing around with your tiny dicks out, moaning like bitches, waiting for someone to touch you. It's disgusting."
The chubby femboy in front of him whimpered. "Mort, please, I've been waiting all night, your hands look so strong, I just want—"
Mort leaned forward and swallowed the femboy's cocklet to the root in one rough motion. The chubby femboy screamed, his whole body jolting as Mort's mouth enveloped him completely. The blunt bob haircut barely moved as Mort started bobbing his head, fast and aggressive, the wet gluck gluck gluck sounds joining the schlick schlick schlick of his hands. His cheeks hollowed with brutal suction, his tongue pressing flat and hard against the underside of the tiny shaft.
"MORT—OH GOD—MORT—YOUR MOUTH—IT'S SO HOT—AHHH—!"
Mort pulled off just long enough to snarl, "I told you to shut the fuck up," before diving back down.
The chubby femboy's legs trembled violently, his hands hovering in the air like he wanted to grab Mort's hair but was too terrified to try.
On Mort's left, the purple haired femboy was getting close. His breath came in short, desperate pants, his hips thrusting into Mort's relentless grip.
"Mort—I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum—please—can I cum—?"
"You don't need my permission to cum, you brainless slut. Just do it already so I can stop touching your worthless little—"
The purple haired femboy came with a high, keening cry, thin ropes of cum spattering across Mort's knuckles and dripping onto the floor. At the same moment, the nose ring femboy on Mort's right hit his peak, his cocklet pulsing hard in Mort's grip as he moaned Mort's name like a prayer.
And the chubby femboy in Mort's mouth, triggered by the sounds of the other two losing control, buried his hands in his own hair and erupted down Mort's throat with a broken sob.
All three came simultaneously, their cries overlapping into a chorus of desperate, fucked out bliss. Mort swallowed on reflex, throat working around the pulsing cocklet, his hands still stroking the other two through their aftershocks.
Then he felt it. Wetness in his hair. Warm, sticky wetness dripping down the side of his perfectly styled blunt bob.
The nose ring femboy had accidentally aimed too high in his climax, and a thick glob of cum was now sliding slowly down Mort's temple, matting the carefully straightened strands to his skin.
Mort pulled off the chubby femboy's cock with a wet pop. His hands released the other two cocks so fast the femboys stumbled backward. The room went dead silent. Mort's dark eyes blazed with a fury that made all three of the spent femboys take a collective step backward.
"You," Mort said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "came in my hair."
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—it was an accident—your hands were so good and I couldn't control—"
Mort's fist shot out and punched the nose ring femboy directly in the balls. The crack of knuckles against sensitive flesh echoed through the small room. The femboy doubled over with a sound that was half scream, half moan, his cocklet twitching violently and spurting another weak rope of cum across the floor.
"AGHHH—FUCK—MORE—PLEASE—HIT ME AGAIN—!"
Mort's eye twitched. He turned and punched the purple haired femboy in the balls too, the same sharp, efficient strike. The femboy crumpled to his knees, clutching himself, but his cocklet was still leaking, still hard, and the moan that tore out of him was pure, unfiltered pleasure.
"YES—YES—THANK YOU—MORT—THANK YOU—!"
The chubby femboy, still standing with his spent cocklet dripping, looked at Mort with wide, eager eyes. "Me too. Please. Hit me too. I've been bad. I moaned when you told me not to. I deserve it."
Mort stared at him for a long, deadpan moment. Then he wound back and delivered a third ball punch, this one even harder. The chubby femboy's eyes rolled back, a long, shuddering moan spilling from his lips as another orgasm ripped through him untouched, his cocklet spurting weakly onto Mort's stool.
All three femboys were on the floor now, writhing and twitching, their balls aching and their cocks still leaking. They looked up at Mort with expressions of pure, blissful devotion.
"More. Please. We'll be good. We'll be so good. Just keep touching us. Keep hurting us. You're amazing, Mort. You're the best."
Mort wiped the cum from his hair with the back of his hand, his expression caught somewhere between disgust and reluctant, deeply hidden satisfaction. "You're all fucking insane," he muttered. "Every single one of you. Deranged. Absolutely deranged sluts."
He grabbed the nearest femboy by the hair and yanked him back to his knees. "Fine. But if anyone else cums in my hair, I'm using my teeth next time."