The femboys couldn't wait another second.
They grabbed Toby with eager, grabbing hands and dragged him off the door, his legs buckling as they manhandled him toward the center of the dressing room.
The couch was too small for what they had planned, too cramped for the number of bodies about to be involved, so they laid him down on his back on the floor instead, the cheap industrial carpet rough against his flushed, sweat slicked skin.
His legs were shoved up and apart, knees pressed toward his chest by two pairs of hands, exposing his slick, finger stretched hole to the hungry crowd.
The lip ring femboy didn't waste a single moment. He knelt between Toby's spread thighs, lined up his modest but rock hard cocklet, and pushed inside with one long, smooth thrust. The wet squelch of lube and spit filled the room as Toby's velvety walls stretched around him, swallowing him to the base. Toby's back arched off the carpet, a loud, broken moan tearing from his throat.
"AHHHH—fuck—yes—fill me—please—"
But his pleas were cut short as the blond femboy straddled his chest, grabbed a fistful of ginger hair, and shoved his own leaking cocklet straight into Toby's open, waiting mouth. The small thick length slid over his tongue and hit the back of his throat, making Toby gag and choke, his moans turning into muffled, desperate gurgles.
GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—the wet, filthy sounds of his throat being fucked mixed with the rhythmic PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP of the femboy between his legs pounding into him.
"Take it, you greedy whore," the blond snarled, hips snapping forward as he face fucked Toby with quick, brutal thrusts.
"Mouth and ass stuffed at the same time. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you were begging for on that stage."
Two other femboys dropped to their knees on either side of Toby's head, their own cocklets hard and leaking. The one with the silver chains grabbed Toby's left hand, the one with the rainbow pasties grabbed his right. They squeezed generous amounts of lube into his palms, the cool gel dripping through his fingers, and wrapped his hands around their waiting lengths.
"Jerk us off, slut," the silver chained femboy demanded, his voice low and rough. "You've got two hands. Stop being a greedy whore and make yourself useful."
"Look at him," the pastie wearing femboy laughed, hips bucking into Toby's slippery grip.
"Can't even talk with that cock in his mouth. Just a wet little hole for us to use. Stroke faster, bitch. I want to cum all over your pretty freckled face."
Toby's hands moved on autopilot, fingers closing around the two cocklets, stroking in clumsy, desperate pulls. The lube made wet, obscene sounds every time his fists slid up and down. His wrists were already aching, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His body was no longer his own, it belonged to the ten femboys using every inch of him.
PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—the lip ring femboy kept pounding into his ass, angling his thrusts to hit Toby's prostate dead on with every stroke. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—the blond kept fucking his throat, tears streaming down Toby's cheeks, spit bubbling at the corners of his stretched lips. His hands kept jerking, left and right, left and right, the two femboys moaning and thrusting into his grip.
A fifth femboy, one with neon green hair and a lip piercing, pulled out his phone and aimed the camera at the scene. The screen lit up with the filthy image of Toby getting railed from both ends while jerking off two more guys, and his thumb moved toward the record button.
Corey moved like a viper. One second he was stroking himself near the couch, the next he had the green haired femboy by the shoulder, spinning him around with surprising strength. His white hair was a wild mess, his eyes sharp and dangerous despite the grin still tugging at his lips.
"Oi, what do you think you're doin', mate?"
Corey's Aussie accent was thick, the words coming out rough and low.
"Tryin' to record without permission? That's against the rules, you naughty little shit. We talked about this before anyone got picked. No photos. No videos. This is a private party."
The green haired femboy's face went pale. "I wasn't—I just wanted—"
"You just wanted to leak footage of my bandmates getting railed so it could end up on some porn site without us gettin' a single bloody cent of the revenue?"
Corey's grin sharpened into something almost predatory. "That's not how this works, sweetheart. You've been a baddd boy. And bad boys don't get to record. Bad boys get punished."
He spun the femboy around and bent him over the arm of the ratty couch in one fluid motion. The green haired femboy's massive ass was on full display, cheeks spread slightly from the position. Corey didn't bother with lube. He just lined up his hard, leaking cocklet and slammed in with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in that tight, unprepared hole.
The green haired femboy screamed, a high, shocked sound that melted into a desperate moan as Corey started fucking him with fast, punishing strokes. PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—PLAP—Corey's hips snapped forward with relentless rhythm, his plump ass flexing with every thrust.
"I'll be damned if this band ends up on some porn site without us seein' a single dollar of the profits," Corey growled, grabbing a fistful of neon green hair and yanking the femboy's head back. "We're already broke as shit. We're not givin' away free content. You wanna watch this later, you pay for it like everyone else."
He fucked harder, faster, the couch creaking under their combined weight. The green haired femboy's moans grew louder, his fingers clawing at the cushions, his untouched cocklet leaking steadily onto the fabric. Corey's dirty talk kept coming, alternating between scolding and taunting.
"That's it. Take it. Take your punishment like a good little rule breaker. Next time you'll think twice before tryin' to record my bandmates without askin'. We're not just a couple of sluts for you to exploit, mate. We're artists. We're professionals. We're—ahhh, fuck, your arse is tight—"
He came hard, burying himself deep and pumping thick, hot ropes into the green haired femboy's ass.
The femboy moaned and shuddered through it, his own cocklet spurting weakly onto the couch cushion below.
When Corey finally pulled out with a wet pop, the femboy slumped to the floor, his ass still raised, cum leaking from his stretched hole in slow, creamy trails. He twitched there, face down on the carpet, completely spent.
Corey wiped his brow with the back of his hand and turned back to the main event.
Toby was still getting fucked six ways to Sunday.
The lip ring femboy had cum inside him and been replaced by the dark skinned femboy with the silver chains, who was now pounding into Toby's sloppy, cum filled hole with long, deep strokes.
The blond had pulled out of his mouth and been replaced by another femboy, this one with buzzed hair and a nose ring, who was holding Toby's head still while he fucked his throat.
Toby's hands were still working, jerking off two more femboys who had taken the place of the first two, his wrists slick with lube and precum.
The remaining femboys who hadn't had a turn yet were growing impatient. They crowded around the edges, stroking themselves furiously, their voices overlapping in a chorus of desperate demands.
"Hurry the fuck up, I've been waiting forever!"
"You've been in his ass for like ten minutes, let someone else have a turn!"
"I want his mouth next, I've been edging this whole time!"
"No fair, I called dibs on his mouth!"
"Fuck you, I called dibs before the show even started!"
"Get off him, I want to fuck him missionary!"
"No, I want missionary!"
The two femboys currently fucking Toby showed no signs of speeding up. If anything, they seemed to be going slower, savoring every tight, wet stroke. The dark skinned femboy grinned down at Toby, rolling his hips in lazy circles. "You hear that, slut? They're fighting over you. You're that good of a fuck."
Toby, with a cock still buried deep in his throat, reached up and gently tapped the thigh of the femboy fucking his face.
The buzzed hair femboy paused, confused, and pulled out with a wet pop. Strings of spit and precum connected Toby's swollen lips to the head of his cock. Toby gasped for air, chest heaving, face flushed and streaked with tears and drool.
"Please," Toby said, his voice hoarse and wrecked but somehow still earnest.
"Please stop fighting. I'll be a good boy. I'll make everyone cum really fast so everyone gets a turn. I promise. Just please be patient with me. I'm sorry there's so many of you and only one of me. I'm sorry you have to wait. I'll do better. I'll be better."
The femboys fell silent. The bickering stopped. The desperate, grabby energy that had been building shifted into something softer, almost tender.
"Did he just apologize for not being able to take ten cocks at once?" the silver chained femboy asked, still buried in Toby's ass but no longer thrusting.
"He's so innocent," the blond murmured, his voice almost reverent. "He's getting absolutely railed and he's still trying to be a good boy for us."
"What a sweetheart," the pink haired femboy added. "Toby, you don't have to apologize. We're the ones being greedy."
The fans exchanged glances, and something unspoken passed between them.
They had come here hungry and demanding, ready to use Toby like a toy.
But his soft, trembling plea had reminded them that he was a person, a sweet, anxious, desperately eager to please person who just wanted everyone to be happy.
"Alright, sweetheart," the dark skinned femboy said, pulling out slowly and patting Toby's hip. "We'll be patient. Anything for you."
The buzzed hair femboy nodded, stroking Toby's cheek with surprising gentleness. "Yeah. We'll wait our turns. No more fighting. You're too cute to stress out."
The femboys who had been arguing moments ago fell into an orderly line, their earlier aggression replaced by something almost protective. They were still hard, still leaking, still desperate to fuck, but now they were willing to wait. Because Toby had asked them to. And they would do anything for Toby.