Kota pushed through the heavy curtain that separated the backstage area from the main showroom, and immediately walked into chaos.
Toby was on his knees in front of Mort, his ginger hair a mess, freckled face twisted in pure desperation.
His soft, curvy body was still squeezed into those impossibly tight black leggings, and his plump ass was pushed out behind him, cheeks jiggling every time he shifted his weight. His hands were clasped together like he was praying, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.
"Please, Mort, please please please give it back. I need it. I can't go on stage without it. My nerves are going crazy and if I don't have something inside me while I drum I'm going to mess up the tempo and everyone's going to hate us and it'll be all my fault and I'll never be able to show my face again. Please. I'm begging you."
Mort stood over him with all the authority his five foot five frame could muster, one hand planted on his hip, the other holding a bright pink dildo high above his head like a trophy.
The shiny black parachute pants swished with every irritated movement, and the skull graphic on his crop sweatshirt seemed to glare down at Toby with matching disgust.
"Fuck no," Mort snapped, voice flat and merciless.
"I already told you. I'm not letting you suction cup this thing to my drum chair so you can get fucked while you play. That's the most unprofessional, desperate, slutty thing I've ever heard."
"But I need ittt," Toby whined, voice cracking higher with every word.
"Corey said it would help with my stage fright and it does. When I'm full I feel so much more confident. Please Mort. I'll do anything. I'll clean the van for a month. I'll stop apologizing so much. I'll even let you pick the setlist next practice. Just give it back. Please."
Mort raised the dildo higher, his arm stretching as far as it could go. Toby scrambled to his feet and lunged for it, but Mort sidestepped easily, the shiny pink silicone bobbing just out of reach. "No. You're going to learn to drum without having your prostate milked for once in your life. It's called being a professional. Look it up."
Kota sighed.
The scene was so ridiculous it barely registered as unusual anymore. He walked up behind Mort with three easy strides and simply reached over the shorter femboy's head, plucking the dildo from his raised hand like taking candy from a toddler.
Mort spun around so fast his blunt bob haircut swung like a blade. His dark eyes blazed with fury. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Give that back right now!"
Kota raised the dildo high above his own head, a full foot higher than Mort could ever hope to reach. Mort's five foot five frame was no match for Kota's six foot one.
The height difference had never been more obvious or more satisfying. Mort lunged for it anyway, rising onto his tippy toes, fingers stretching toward the pink silicone with desperate, furious determination. His crop sweatshirt rode up, showing a strip of pale midriff and the top of his own plump, shapely ass.
"Give me the fucking dildo right now, you oversized tree!" Mort snarled, jumping slightly. His fingers grazed empty air. He jumped again. Nothing. The dildo bobbed tauntingly above him, completely out of reach.
Toby's eyes lit up with desperate hope. He scrambled to Kota's other side, hands still clasped in that pleading gesture, his soft cheeks flushed pink.
"Kota, please, pretty please, can I have it? I'll be so good. I'll drum perfectly. I'll make you proud. Just give it to me. Please please please."
Kota looked between Mort's furious glare and Toby's desperate, watery eyes. Then he turned toward where Corey was lounging against a stack of amps, watching the whole scene with obvious amusement. Kota tossed the dildo underhand across the room. Corey caught it one handed, his grin immediately stretching wider.
"Hide it," Kota said.
Corey's eyes sparkled with pure mischief. He turned the pink dildo over in his hands, examining it like it was the most fascinating object he'd ever seen.
"Hide it? Like, somewhere nobody will ever find it?" His grin turned wicked, one eyebrow arching suggestively.
"Because I know a place. It's warm, it's tight, and it's currently empty and waiting for something to fill it up."
Kota squinted at him. "Is that place up your ass?"
"Yes," Corey said without a shred of shame.
"Then no."
Corey's face crumpled into an exaggerated pout, lower lip jutting out dramatically. His plump ass shifted as he crossed his arms, the baggy gray jeans doing nothing to hide the way his cheeks bounced with the movement.
"You're such a buzzkill, Kota. I swear, ever since you got that boyfriend you've been all rules and boundaries and no fun at all. The old Kota would've let me hide it up my ass. The old Kota would've helped me put it there."
"The old Kota was running on adrenaline and sexual frustration," Kota said flatly. "The current Kota just wants you to hide the dildo somewhere that isn't inside a person."
Corey sighed dramatically, as if Kota had asked him to move a mountain. "Fine. Fine. I'll hide it somewhere boring and non sexual. But I'm not happy about it."
He turned and sauntered off toward the green room, the pink dildo swinging from his fingers, his ass swaying with every step.
Kota looked around the backstage area. Gideon was seated in a folding chair in the corner, his impossibly long legs crossed at the knee, a small leather bound book open in his hands. The towering gothic femboy looked completely unbothered by the chaos around him, dark red eyeshadow making his calm expression seem almost otherworldly. His corset creaked faintly with each slow breath, and his frilled black shirt ruffled slightly in the breeze from a nearby fan.
"When does the show actually start?" Kota asked, walking over to stand near Gideon.
Mort was still fuming, but he managed to answer through gritted teeth. "In a moment. We're just waiting for the confirmation to get up on that stage." He was smoothing down his crop sweatshirt with sharp, irritated movements, his pride clearly still stinging from the dildo incident.
As if summoned by his words, a lanky stagehand with a clipboard and a headset poked his head through the curtain. "Pure Despair? You're up. Right now. Get on stage."
Mort's entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The irritation and embarrassment vanished, replaced by a cold, focused intensity.
He turned to Kota, jabbing a finger toward the side of the stage.
"You. Wait backstage. We'll be done in about sixty five minutes. Don't wander off, don't cause any problems, and don't let any random groupies touch the equipment."
Kota nodded. "Got it. Good luck out there."
Mort didn't acknowledge the well wishes. He just turned and marched toward the stage, his shiny black pants swishing with purpose. Gideon closed his book with a soft thud, unfolded his towering frame from the chair, and glided after Mort with that same ethereal, unhurried grace. His frilled shirt caught the backstage lights, casting dramatic shadows across the concrete floor.
Toby, still sniffling slightly from the dildo drama, scrambled to his feet and hurried after them, his plump ass bouncing with every nervous step. He paused at the edge of the curtain, took a deep, shaky breath, and disappeared into the bright lights of the stage.
Corey reappeared at Kota's side, slightly out of breath but grinning triumphantly. His white hair was messier than before, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
"Alright. The dildo is officially hidden. I had to test how it felt first, you know, for quality assurance. But I put it somewhere that isn't ass related."
Kota raised an eyebrow. "Somewhere that isn't ass related. That's suspiciously specific wording."
"Hey, you said no ass. You didn't say anything about other places."
Corey winked, then clapped Kota on the shoulder. "Anyway, wish me luck, cutie. When I get back, I expect you to be right here waiting. And maybe we can discuss that stress relief you promised." He turned and jogged toward the stage, his baggy jeans slipping dangerously low on his hips, revealing the top of his crack before he yanked them up with one hand.
The stage lights flared bright white, then shifted to deep purple and blue. The crowd beyond the curtain let out a roar of anticipation that vibrated through the concrete floor. Kota leaned against a stack of equipment cases, crossing his arms, and settled in to wait. Sixty five minutes. Then the real fun would begin.