Kota gulped. The sight of Mort standing there completely naked, his compact frame trembling, his cheeks burning crimson, his tiny cocklet hard and leaking, was doing something to him. It wasn't just the usual hunger that came with his hyperspermia or the constant thrum of arousal that never quite faded anymore.
It was something softer. Mort's angry exterior had cracked wide open, and underneath was something shy and vulnerable and desperate for approval. It was the same thing Kota had seen in Toby, in Theo, in every femboy who talked a big game but melted the moment someone showed them real attention.
He reached down and unbuttoned his slacks, but he didn't strip. He just pulled his zipper down and freed his cock, letting the heavy, thick length hang between his legs. Then he knelt over Mort, his broad frame casting a shadow across the shorter femboy's pale body.
"Lay on your back," Kota said quietly, his voice low and steady.
Mort's eyes flashed with automatic defiance. "Fuck no. I don't lay on my back for anyone. I'm not some submissive little—"
Corey cut him off from his spot against the van wall, his voice dripping with affectionate mockery. "Oh, stop being such a mean bitch, Morty. You've been eyeing that cock since the ritual night. Don't pretend you haven't. You and Gideon are the only ones who haven't tried out Kota's new bigger dick, and I know for a fact you've been thinking about it."
Mort's head whipped around, his eyes widening. "It got bigger? Bigger than before?"
Kota nodded. He reached down and grabbed his thick shaft, lifting it and letting it drop heavily onto Mort's stomach. The sheer size of it completely dwarfed Mort's tiny 1.8 inch nub, the fat head resting inches above his belly button while Mort's cocklet barely cleared his pubic bone. The contrast was almost comical, Kota's massive dark length lying across Mort's pale skin like a third arm, thick veins pulsing visibly, the tip already slick with precum that smeared across Mort's belly.
Mort whimpered. The sound was high and involuntary, completely unlike his usual sharp commands. He stared down at the cock resting on his stomach with wide, glassy eyes, his breath coming in short, shaky gasps.
Corey grinned and tossed a small bottle of lube toward Kota. "Fuck him very well, cutie. He's been waiting longer than anyone. Show him what he's been missing."
Kota caught the lube and didn't respond. He wasn't going to let Corey's commentary dictate how this went. Mort was different. Mort needed something gentler, something that acknowledged the vulnerability he was showing without making him feel weak for it. Kota squeezed a generous amount of lube into his palm and reached down between Mort's legs, his fingers finding the tight, pink hole hidden between those plump cheeks.
Mort gasped when the first cool fingertip touched him, his hips jerking involuntarily. "Cold—fuck—warn a guy—"
"Relax," Kota murmured, circling the rim with slow, careful pressure. "I've got you."
He worked one finger in, then two, stretching Mort open with patient, deliberate movements. Mort's breathing grew ragged, his hands fisting in the blanket beneath him. When Kota finally pulled his fingers out and positioned himself between Mort's spread thighs, the shorter femboy was already trembling.
Kota lifted Mort's legs onto his shoulders, the position folding him slightly, those massive cheeks spreading naturally to present his slick, ready hole. Kota lined up the fat head of his cock and pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, watching Mort's face the whole time.
"AHHH—fuck—fuck—Kota—!" Mort's moan was high pitched and desperate, completely unlike anything Kota had ever heard from him. It was the moan of a slut, raw and unrestrained, stripped of all the armor Mort usually wore. His back arched off the van floor, his hands flying up to grip Kota's forearms.
Corey clapped his hands together with pure delight. "There he is! There's the Mort I love. I knew you had it in you, Morty. All that anger was just covering up the neediest little hole in the whole band."
Kota started thrusting, slow and deep, letting Mort feel every inch of his massive cock dragging along those tight, fluttering walls. The wet squelch of lube and the soft plap of his hips meeting Mort's ass filled the van, mixing with Mort's high, breathy moans.
"Look at him," Corey continued, his voice taking on that teasing, dirty edge. "Taking that big cock like he was made for it. You know what I think, Morty? I think you're even more of a slut than Toby deep down. Toby's obvious about it. Everyone knows Toby wants to be used. But you? You pretend you're above it all, pretend you're too mean for this. But listen to you now. Moaning like a bitch in heat."
Mort shook his head frantically, his blunt bob haircut mussed for the first time since Kota met him. "No—ahhh—I'm not—I'm not like Toby—"
"You're exactly like Toby," Corey purred. "And soon enough, I'm going to turn you into Toby 2.0. Complete with the begging and the crying and the constant need to be called a good boy. You're already halfway there."
"NOOO—ahhh—fuck—I don't want to be like Toby—ahhh—ahhh—!" Mort's moans were growing louder, more desperate, his hips starting to roll up to meet Kota's thrusts despite his protests. His cocklet bounced against his stomach with every deep drive, leaking steadily.
Kota kept the pace slow and steady, but Mort was getting fed up. His brazen side flared back to life, his eyes snapping open with that familiar fire. "Stop fucking treating me like I'm going to break! I said I wanted you to fuck me, not make love to me! Faster! Harder! Fucking pound me already!"
Corey burst out laughing. "There's the Morty I know. Kota, give him the pile driver."
Kota paused mid thrust, his brow furrowing. "The what?"
"The pile driver position," Corey said, already scooting closer to coach. "Lift his legs higher. Push them all the way back until his knees are by his ears. Yeah, like that. Now lean forward, put your weight on your hands, and drive straight down. Don't thrust forward, thrust down. Use gravity. Pile driver. It hits the prostate like a jackhammer."
Kota adjusted his position, folding Mort's legs all the way back until his plump ass was tilted up at a sharp angle. He leaned forward, his weight braced on his hands, and drove down into Mort's hole with a deep, powerful thrust that buried him to the hilt in one motion.
Mort screamed. It wasn't a moan or a whimper. It was a full throated, gut wrenching scream of pure, overwhelming pleasure. His eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open, and his whole body convulsed as the fat head of Kota's cock bullied his prostate with brutal precision.
"YES—YES—OH FUCK—RIGHT THERE—DON'T STOP—DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE STOP—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Tears were streaming down Mort's flushed cheeks, his carefully maintained composure completely shattered. He was crying and moaning and begging all at once, his hands clawing at Kota's shoulders, his legs shaking violently in Kota's grip. "This is—ahhh—this is the best feeling ever—fuck—I've never—no one's ever hit it like this—Kota—Kota—please—!"
Kota kept pile driving into him, the wet plap plap plap of their bodies colliding growing faster and harder. The van rocked slightly on its suspension, the broken window letting in cool night air that did nothing to cool the heat building between them. Mort came untouched, his tiny cocklet spurting thin ropes of cum across his own stomach, his hole clenching and fluttering wildly around Kota's thrusting cock.
Kota followed moments later, burying himself deep and flooding Mort's insides with thick, heavy ropes of cum. Mort whimpered through the aftershocks, his body twitching and trembling, cum leaking out around the thick base of Kota's cock and dripping onto the blanket beneath him.
When Kota finally pulled out, Mort was left twitching on the floor, his hole gaping and leaking, his face streaked with tears, his voice reduced to broken little whimpers. He looked completely wrecked, completely satisfied, and completely unable to form words.
Corey crawled forward on his knees, his own cocklet hard and leaking. "So, cutie. You in the mood for some good ol' Corey action now? I've been waiting all night."
Kota shook his head, still catching his breath. "Nah. Not right now."
Before Corey could pout, there was a rustle of fabric from the corner of the van. Gideon was standing up, his towering frame unfolding with eerie grace. He set his leather notebook aside and began to undress. His frilled black shirt came first, revealing a pale, smooth chest and arms that seemed to go on forever. His corset was next, the laces loosening with practiced ease until it fell away and revealed an impossibly narrow waist. His skirt and leggings followed, pooling at his feet, until Gideon stood completely naked in the dim light of the van.
His body was breathtaking. Pale and tall and ethereal, with a waist so cinched and narrow it looked like it belonged on a Victorian doll, and an ass so massive and shelf like it defied physics. The contrast was almost surreal, those planetary cheeks projecting outward like they had been carved from marble, the deep cleft between them visible even from the front. His cocklet was small and flushed, nestled in a thatch of dark hair.
Kota grinned, his spent cock already twitching back to life at the sight. "It's cowgirl time, Gideon. Get over here."