Two Doms - Ch. 26 (21.5k words) (Patreon)

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi angels! Sorry this one took so long, as you can see it's long as hell :)

CWs: Lots of drinking, mild dysphoria and transphobia, reference to roofies, creepy frat guy behaviour.

Also... there may or may not be some sexual content in this chapter ;)

Hope you enjoy!!

There’s no excuse for what I did the night before the frat party. Yes, I was stressed. I was frustrated. But deep down, I knew it was a bad idea, and I did it anyway.

Things were tense after my confrontation with Karl. He and Nick were still seeing each other, in their quasi-boyfriend relationship I totally didn't care about at all, and that meant he continued hanging around the dorm. He kept up his condescending faux-friendly act in front of Nick, but his disdain for me was very clear. I tried not to let it bother me. I was used to people resenting my presence and I could give a crap how Karl felt about me. Still, it was draining, even if I got some satisfaction from knowing how mad he would be if he found out that I was sharing a bed with Nick every night. Obviously it was the exact opposite of romantic, but Karl would flip his lid if he knew. That was pretty funny. 

Other than that, things weren't going great. Miel was still busy all the time, with whatever mysterious task Kermit had her working on. She had also started a new project with ACORN, planning and organising a massive fundraiser concert on campus. I offered to help, but she showed me some of what she was working on, and it was all spreadsheets and paperwork, getting approvals from the school and budgeting and comparing quotes from vendors, and I couldn't wrap my head around any of it. Hell, I could barely keep up with my own business classes anymore. So Miel worked on her projects with her smarter friends, and I barely got to see her at all. I still spent time with my other art and ACORN friends, but Miel was my best friend and I resented having her snatched away from me. Also, Jess and Shawnee were even more lovey-dovey after our slumber party, and it was starting to irritate me. They were cute, but it was a frustrating reminder that the only person I had hooked up with in college was fucking Nick. 

I had been thinking a lot about what I wanted. Yes, I needed my own room, so I could have the space to figure out my identity. But that wasn't gonna happen for a while. So in the meantime, what did I want? Setting aside any questions of whether I was trans or gay or anything else, what did I actually want to do right now?

There were two things. The first was that I wanted to feel pretty. I liked my new clothes, and I liked wearing makeup, but I still felt like I could go further. I had been painting more, and I always felt frustrated when the piece I was working on wasn't living up to the potential it had in my head. My own appearance was the ultimate example of that. I was pretty, for a guy, for a twink, for a femboy, but I knew I could be prettier if I just had the chance. 

The other thing? I wanted to have sex.

It seemed like everyone around me was doing it. Nick and Karl, Jess and Shawnee, that bass player at the rock show for sure had gone home with someone. Meanwhile I was almost nineteen and still a total virgin. I hadn't even kissed a guy yet! I kept waking up with Nick spooning me, and sometimes I just stayed there for a while to spite Karl. Sometimes Nick had morning wood, and feeling his cock pressed up against me, digging into my butt with just a few layers of fabric separating us… it was definitely stirring up some thoughts. 

I knew what I wanted, but pursuing it was still scary. I was still adjusting to being openly gay, and I wasn't sure I was ready to be totally out-and-proud. If I actually had sex with a guy, there was a risk he could tell someone, and the news would get back to my dad. If I went out in public in a dress, someone could take a photo, and my dad could end up seeing it. There was no way I would be able to talk my way out of either of those things. I had barely managed to get away with wearing leggings. 

So neither of my goals seemed like they were in reach at all, and I got more and more impatient and frustrated, more and more feeling like I was trapped, more and more desperate to feel some kind of release, and after a few weeks it all built up too much, and I acted on my worst impulses. That night, when Miel was busy, and Nick and I were home alone, and we had both had a few of our stashed Lucy beers, I gave in to temptation and did something I knew was going to have resounding, potentially catastrophic, consequences. 

I cut my bangs. 

***

“Oh, shit,” said Nick.

“Don't be a dick!” I said, like I hadn't just spent the last ten minutes frantically saying the exact same thing over and over as I stared into the mirror in horror, “It looks good!”

“It looks…” Nick began, but I glared at him so hard it almost left a mark, and he changed course quickly, “I mean, as long as you're happy.”

“I am!” I snapped. 

I was happy. Or, at least, I had been happy, for that one split second it took to snip my scissors. And then I looked in the mirror, at the somewhat girly, extremely intentional haircut I had just given myself, and I felt like my heart was going to explode. 

A haircut was not like clothing. It wasn't even like makeup. A haircut was about as close to permanent as it was possible to get without, y'know, actually doing something permanent. I was stuck with these stupid bangs for the next couple of months. If my dad decided to visit again, he was going to see me like this. I was aware of that possibility, but it felt vague and unlikely until I actually did it, and then all of a sudden it felt terrifyingly certain. And then I realised I had a way out: I could just cut the rest of my hair short, too. Somehow that felt even worse. 

So I had spent ten minutes hunched over the sink quietly swearing and trying not to throw up, until I finally figured out a solution. I was going to stop looking in the mirror and walk out of the bathroom and just not think about it at all. A perfect plan, which Nick had immediately ruined. 

“So is this, uh,” he gestured his hand vaguely, “Like, does this mean something, or…”

“No!” I felt my face go red, “It's just for a costume!” 

Nick tilted his head, “A costume? Is this more Kermit Tsu shit?”

“Ugh, no,” I said, “Stop trying to guess what's going on in my life, you're not good at it.”

“Fucking excuse me,” Nick said, “I got my own shit going on, I never said I was interested in what you were doing anyway.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. Nick’s “own shit” was just doing research for a marketing assignment. He had borrowed a bunch of actual library books for it, like the dork he was. I had the same assignment, and I was going to start working on it soon. Totally. For sure. 

“You're always interested in what I do,” I said, “That's why you hang around here all the time, instead of doing your work at the library, or at your stupid boyfriend’s place.”

“We’re still not…” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” I rolled my eyes, “Your stupid not-boyfriend’s place, anyway. You're obsessed with my interesting life, and my schemes, and all the cool stuff I get up to while you're running in circles and reading boring books.”

“The only reason I even noticed you cut your hair is cause I know it means the sink’s gonna be a fucking mess again,” Nick said, “You know we don't have a–”

“We don't have a fucking maid, I get it,” I smirked. This was an annoyingly common refrain, but tonight it was unintentionally amusing. “You can stop whining, I cleaned up after myself. You're welcome, by the way.”

“Great, thanks, you're a real hero for cleaning up your own mess,” said Nick. He set his books aside and sighed, “So?”

“So?”

“So what's the costume? You've been standing there smirking for the last five minutes, clearly you wanna tell me.”

“It's a surprise,” I said airily, “Perhaps you'll get to see it before I go to the party tomorrow. I know you like perving at my outfits.”

“I don't perv!” Nick said, “But if you're fucking flouncing around my bedroom in short skirts all the time obviously I’m – fucking whatever. What party?”

“You're not invited,” I said, “My friend Mateus is in a frat, and they're having a costume party tomorrow night. So you and your not-boyfriend can have the room to yourselves.”

Nick scoffed, “Generous of you. But I'm good, actually. My buddy Cameron’s frat is having a party too, so Karl and I are going to that. Pretty sure it's a costume party too, actually. Anyway, it’ll probably be a lot cooler than yours.”

“Please,” I sneered, “Like I want to go to any party you're gonna be at.”

We glared at each other for a moment. 

“I mean it's definitely the same party, huh,” Nick said.

“Why wouldn't it be?” I sighed. 

I climbed into bed, and Nick paused at the ladder. 

“Hey, uh, I was meaning to talk to you about something.”

I peered over the edge of the bed, “So talk, moron. Like you’re not used to running your mouth all the time?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” Nick shifted uncomfortably, “So with the, uh, the girl’s clothes and stuff. I don’t have a problem with it or anything, it’s just… you know how Karl is kind of, uh…”

“An asshole?” I suggested, “A huge asshole?”

“Protective,” said Nick. 

“A huge protective asshole?”

Nick powered through, “So, I figure, uh, he probably wouldn’t be psyched to know that, uh, that you’re dressing the way you’re dressing, like, right now.”

I raised my eyebrows. I was wearing a cute little sleep set, that showed off my smooth slender legs and a glimpse of my tummy. It wasn’t actually all that girly, to be honest. But it was pretty revealing. 

“Is he worried you won’t be able to help yourself?” I said, “You’ve told him how much you love checking out my ass, and he thinks you’re gonna go crazy and start jacking off in front of me again?”

“Come on, dude,” Nick grimaced, “I haven’t fucking told him about any of that stuff, alright? It’s in the past. And I don’t talk to him about you, fucking, y’know, dressing up. I figure that’s your own business.”

“It is,” I said icily. Deep down I was grateful, though. 

“But I just figure maybe it’s not, uh, appropriate,” Nick finished weakly. 

“Well, that was a fascinating conversation,” I said, “Absolutely zero fucking way am I changing any of my behaviour to appease you or your shithead not-boyfriend. I like dressing like this, and if you’ve got a problem being around me you can go sleep in the hall or something.”

Nick sighed, “It’s just that–”

“I’m gonna dress the way I fucking want!” I snapped, “I don’t care what you or Karl or anyone else thinks! Okay! I’m doing what I want!”

“Then why don’t you dress like this outside the dorm?” said Nick.

“Because it’s scary, idiot!” I said. I lifted the corner of the blanket, “Now are you coming to bed or what?”

Nick shrugged, “Well, I tried.”

When I woke up in the morning we were spooning again, and I can’t deny I felt a wicked satisfaction about it. 

***

I met up with Shawnee and Jess the next day, and they were very supportive of my new hairstyle. Well, Jess gently insisted that I let her even it out a bit, and add some layers, and do a bunch of other things that I wasn't sure where she had learned considering herself and her girlfriend were both practically bald. But I couldn't deny that it looked a lot better when she was finished. 

I asked if they were going to the party that night.

“It sounds fun!” Shawnee said encouragingly, “I hope you and Mateus have a great time! We already had plans, unfortunately, so we’re going to have to miss it this time. Maybe we’ll go to the next one!”

“I would rather kill myself than go to a frat party,” said Jess. 

“That too,” Shawnee admitted. 

I wasn't too upset that they were gonna miss the party. I had big plans, especially for my costume.

Because it was a costume party, right? Which meant everyone would be dressed up, in silly costumes, just for fun. So that meant I could also dress up, and as far as anyone knew, I was just doing the same thing. 

That was the classic ruse, in a whole lot of the (admittedly not super realistic) stories I had read online. My night probably wouldn't end quite as… climatically, but there was a chance! I mean, Mateus would be at the party, and he was gay. There might be other guys there who would also be into me. The idea of hooking up with a gay guy while dressed as a girl didn't exactly feel perfect, but then maybe there were bi guys, too. Or maybe even, possibly, a straight guy would see me, and think I was so hot that he wouldn't even care that I was a guy. Some straight guys liked femboys, after all. I had seen that online. Anyway, at the very least, I was going to achieve one of my two goals. I intended to be pretty as hell. 

That was going to require some work.

“Hurry up Nick!” Nick chanted from outside the door. God, sharing a bathroom was really killing me these days, especially now that I was wearing makeup on a daily basis. He clapped his hand against his chest and repeated, “Hurry up Nick!” Clap clap clap, “Hurry up Nick!”

“Can you stop?” I yelled, “You are literally acting like a fucking child!”

“You've been in there for like an hour!” he yelled back, “Fucking hurry up already! You’re gonna make me late!”

“This is not a new development!” I replied. I misted my face with setting spray, “You know it takes me a long time to get ready! If you didn't plan around that, it's not my fault!”

“I shouldn't have to plan around you in my own room,” Nick grumbled. 

I rolled my eyes. Nick was wrong about that (it was my room, and I should always take priority) but I had probably spent long enough in the bathroom, obsessively touching up my makeup. But it was important I got it right. I had gone for something much more involved than usual, with dramatic eyeliner and dark red lips and even contour, which meant if I did a bad job it was going to be way more embarrassing. But I had done well, I was pretty sure, unless I was totally delusional. I just had to trust that I wasn't. I took a deep breath, fluffed my hair a little, and adjusted my boobs. 

That's right. Boobs. 

I told you I had big plans. 

I bought the breast forms online. I was pretty sure the Great Oaks mall didn't have a boob store, and even if they did I would've been too anxious to actually go inside. It took a bit of research (and some very uncomfortable time spent looking at online stores with words in the title I really didn't want to think about applying to me) but as soon as I tried them on I knew it was worth it. Seeing myself in the mirror, in my costume, with the new haircut Jess gave me, and the actual swell of could-be-real breasts under my dress… for about ten minutes I couldn't even form a coherent thought. I just stared at myself, turning side to side, admiring the curves of my body, grinning like an idiot. 

And then Nick started yelling and I had to snap out of it and do my makeup before he started punching the drywall or something. Still, it was a nice moment while it lasted. Something to think about, for sure. After the party. 

I double-checked my costume one last time, making sure my headpiece was on straight and my skirt wasn't riding too high. I smirked to myself. Okay, it could ride a little too high. Nick was gonna be the first person to see me all dressed up, and his reaction should be very fun to watch. I straightened my back, grinning a little at the way it thrust out my boobs, and then opened the door. 

“Oh, this place is a mess!” I tutted, “Someone should clean it up!”

“It's not a fucking mess, I'm literally using this shit,” said Nick, who was sitting at the desk, fucking aroud with a roll of tinfoil. 

I pouted, “You were supposed to say “We don't have a maid,” idiot.”

“Well, no shit, we don't,” said Nick, “Why are–”

He finally turned his head and his jaw dropped when he saw me. 

“Ta-da,” I twirled on the spot, letting him see my costume in all its glory. I was pleased to see the awestruck expression was still on his face when I finished my spin. Nick wasn’t good for much, but he was great for a quick self-esteem boost. 

“Holy shit,” Nick said.

“Do you get it?”

“Holy shit, Nick,” he said again.

“But do you get it?” I arched an eyebrow, “It’s like an inside joke, y’know? Because of how you always say–”

“You can’t go out like that,” he said.

I blinked, “Fucking excuse me?”

“Yeah, Nick, you can’t fucking go to the party like that,” he said, with an infuriating tone of certainty. Like it was in any way his fucking decision to make. 

I crossed my arms (fighting down the little thrill I got from feeling the way it squished my breast forms together) and glared at him, “Okay, Nick, not that it’s going to affect my decision in the slightest, but do you want to explain why the fuck you thought that was an appropriate thing to say?”

Nick looked at me like I was an idiot, which might have hurt a little if it was coming from anyone else, particularly a person who wasn’t halfway through wrapping their arm in tinfoil. 

“Have you ever been to a frat party before?” he asked, “Or any party that wasn’t some fucking black-tie gala?”

I frowned, “Obviously. I did have friends in high school, you know.”

“Sure, your fucking private school psychos,” Nick said dismissively, “When you would get together and exchange business cards and eat caviar or whatever. At fucking real parties, adult parties, you can’t just show up in a dress like that and expect everyone to be cool.”

“Oh, whatever,” I said, although admittedly I did feel a squirm of nervousness in my stomach. I had never been to a frat party, but I had a certain image of them, from movies and the like, and I was aware they weren’t famous for being a safe space to explore your queer identity. But this wasn’t a movie. “Mateus invited me, and he’s cool, and he’s gay. And you and Karl are going, and you two have your, you know, label-agnostic MLM relationship. It’s not exactly an RNC fundraiser.”

Nick narrowed his eyes, “Have you been to–”

“Not the point,” I had. They weren’t fun. “Look, I’m not an idiot. It’s a costume party, okay? I’m in costume. And it’s literally an inside joke, okay? It’s funny.”

“Nobody else is gonna get the joke,” Nick pointed out, “You walk into that party, all anyone is gonna see is the spoilt bitch from business class, dressed like a slutty maid.”

I blushed and looked at the ground as I anxiously twisted the toe of my little black kitten heel into the carpet. I had put a lot of effort into my costume, and a fair amount of my father’s money, too. I wanted to make sure that I found a maid costume (“uniform” was a bit generous) that matched the one from my fantasies, not some cheap Party City polyester junk that would make me look desperate and gross. I wanted something flattering, and cute, and, okay, maybe a little sexy. And, after a semester of hanging out with Miel, I wanted it to come from an ethical company, not some fast fashion sweatshop. I thought the costume I ended up with was perfect, a cute little black dress with just the right amount of flare and frills, a matching white apron and headpiece, and shoes and lingerie that I had bought separately to make sure they were just right. And then there was all the work I had done with my makeup and hair and boobs, and for a little while I had really thought that I actually made kind of a pretty girl. 

But Nick was right. I was just Dominic Lane wearing a stupid, perverted costume. 

My shoulders slumped, “Fine. I’ll take it off, if I look that stupid.”

“I didn’t say you look stupid, dumbass,” said Nick, “I’m just saying, you can’t show up to a frat party dressed all sexy and expect everyone to be cool.”

I looked up sharply, “What?”

“There’s gonna be a bunch of drunk frat guys there,” Nick pointed out, “And, y’know, you’re all, fucking, small and pretty, and…”

“Oh my god,” I said, “You think I might actually get some action at this party, and you’re fucking jealous.”

“No I’m not!” Nick said, way too defensively, “It’s just… y’know, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Cause of. Y’know. Safety.”

I scoffed, “This again? Fine, you can walk me to the party. Since you were so helpful when we met that guy in Batesville.”

Nick sighed with exasperation, “Fuck, you’re so fucking stupid. I can’t believe you dressed like a slutty maid.”

“I dressed like a regular maid,” I said sternly, “You’re the one projecting sluttiness onto it.”

“Is that how your maid dresses?”

“When she goes to a costume party, maybe,” I shrugged. Luisa was pretty young and cool, I was sure she had worn equally risque costumes in her spare time. I felt a little warmth in my heart at the idea that I might have something in common with an actual girl, especially someone as cool as Luisa. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” Nick muttered, “Just give me a minute.”

He returned to wrapping tinfoil around his right arm. I tilted my head, curious.

“What are you doing?” I asked, “Is this for your costume?”

“Uh-huh,” he grinned and held up his hand. His prosthesis was now fully covered in shimmering metallic silver. “Check it out.”

I glanced up and down his body. He was wearing jeans and a button-up with a few too many buttons undone, showing off his chest. As far as Nick went, this was black-tie formal, but besides his foil-covered arm there was no sign of a costume.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“Duh,” he grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the desk, flipped them open and put them on. He grinned at me, “Sexy Terminator.”

“What?”

“Terminator!” he gestured at his arm again, like it was obvious, “The one from Terminator 2, y’know? The liquid metal guy.”

“That guy didn’t wear jeans, he was, like, a cop,” I pointed out. 

“Yeah, sick, let me just grab my spare cop uniform from the dresser,” Nick scowled, “Unlike you, I gotta work for my money. I’m not spending a hundred bucks to dress up like I have a job.”

That made me a little angry, mostly at the implication my costume only cost a hundred bucks. 

“Well, are we going, or what?” I said.

“Give me five minutes,” Nick said, “I gotta shave.”

I groaned, “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”

“Someone was using the bathroom for the last fucking hour!”

“Well, hurry up already! You’re gonna make me late!”

 ***

We finished our remaining Lucy beers before we left, so I was feeling a pleasant buzz as we walked to the party. This was fortunate, because the frat house was a few streets away from campus, and even my modest heels weren’t super comfortable to walk in. But I didn’t care. I was going to a party! And I looked pretty! And girly! And even sexy, according to Nick!

I tried to keep that positive mindset as we walked, but I couldn’t deny I was nervous. As much as the bangs and breast forms helped, it was pretty optimistic to think anyone would actually think I was a girl. Which was fine, obviously, because I still probably wasn't, even if the way I felt when I saw my boobed-up body in the mirror felt worryingly good. I wasn't entirely sure what gender euphoria felt like, but it did kind of make sense that a trans person would feel the way I had felt. But then again, lots of cis guys liked looking like women sometimes. Drag queens, for example, and most drag queens weren't trans.

Some were, though. 

But I shouldn't get my hopes up. Anyway, there was no point obsessing over what I may or may not be. Tonight I just wanted to feel pretty, and the more I got used to being out in public all dressed up, the more pretty I felt. At first I had to fake it, keeping my chin up proudly even as my stomach twisted with nerves. As much as I hated to admit it, I was glad Nick was with me. It helped to have a tall, fit, intimidating man by my side in case anyone tried to start some trouble. But as we walked through campus, passing dozens of students, none of whom screamed at me for being a pervert, my confidence grew. Either I was passing better than I thought, or we had a super chill student body. 

We passed by the weed tree, and I peeked around it hopefully, just in case Miel was there. I was a little nervous about any of my friends seeing me in a dress, but if anyone was going to be supportive, it would be her. She wasn’t there, though. Probably still busy with work. 

When we finally made it to the frat house, Nick paused outside the front gate. The party had spilled out onto the lawn, with inebriated college students in costumes laughing and flirting and being stupid everywhere you looked. Suddenly I felt intimidated all over again.

“So, uh, you said you have a friend here, right?” Nick said.

“Uh-huh,” I scanned the lawn but there was no sign of Mateus. He was probably inside, hanging out with his frat brothers. Crap, I would have to go in and find him. I assumed his brothers would be cool like him, but was that naive? Mateus was gay, but he wasn't, like, flamboyant or anything. He was big and masculine and even had a beard. That was a long way off from me.

“Is he around? Do you know where he is?”

I shook myself out of my worries and eyed Nick suspiciously, “Why? Were you lying about being invited? That's sad, even for you.”

“No, dipshit,” he said, “I'm gonna go find Karl and the guys, I just figured…”

I groaned, “Oh, you figured I would be helpless without you here to protect me? Grow up, Nick.”

I stormed ahead of him, pushing through the gate and marching up to the front door where a bored looking frat brother was standing with a clipboard, trying to look like an intimidating bouncer, which was difficult since he was dressed like a banana. Nick followed me, catching up quick thanks to his freakishly long legs.

The guy at the door smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was nice to see a venue with a doorman, for a change. He looked up as Nick approached, “Name?”

“Dominic Lane,” said Nick, before I had the chance to speak, “I'm friends with Cameron.”

I scowled. The doorman checked his list and nodded, “Yeah, I got you on here twice for some reason. You're good, dude.”

I sighed, preparing myself to explain the stupid name thing yet again. To my surprise, the frat doorman stepped aside and ushered us both in. He winked at me, “Have fun.”

I followed after Nick, confused, “What was that about?”

“What?”

“He let me in without checking my name,” I said, “Maybe he recognised me.”

“The fuck?” said Nick, “Did you have your dad's assistant fucking call ahead? To a frat party?”

“No!” I snapped, “I mean from ACORN stuff, or like from around campus or something.”

“He probably thinks you're a girl, dumbass,” said Nick, “Girls always get in.”

I stopped dead, “Wait. Actually?”

“Wasn't that the fucking point?” said Nick. Even in the front hall, the music was pumping loud. A couple of girls rushed past us, giggling and holding red solo cups. Like in the movies!

“Nick, wait,” I said. He groaned and turned around, looming over me, his dark eyes burning with frustration even through his shades. I was too excited to be intimidated, though. I felt like something was bubbling and fizzing in my tummy, and that stupid grin was back on my face. “Do you actually think he thought I was a girl?”

“I mean, no shit?” said Nick, “You spent an hour making yourself look like a girl. You're dressed like a french maid, and you're like five feet tall, and you have tits.”

I looked down. I had carefully chosen a maid outfit that wasn't too low cut (this had taken some searching) so as far as anyone could tell, my boobs were totally real. Real enough to get me into a frat party, even if I wasn't on the list. 

But that was just some dumb frat guy in a banana suit. He was probably drunk already, and not paying attention. I frowned up at Nick, “I'm five five. Five six in these heels.”

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” Nick wondered aloud, “You good to find your friend?”

“Yes, fuck off already.”

“Alright,” Nick said. He turned to leave, then hesitated, “Hey, uh, if you see Karl, maybe don't tell him we came together. Especially since you're dressed like that.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, that's what I wanna do tonight. Talk to Karl.”

“Cool,” Nick nodded, “Later, then.”

He disappeared up some stairs, and I ventured further into the house, following the music. 

The living room was a sea of dancing bodies in goofy costumes, lit only vaguely by multicoloured lights from a spinning disco ball thingy mounted on top of the speakers. Most of the people were indistinct shapes, revealed only as the neon lit up the edges of their bodies. I skirted around the crowd, grateful for the darkness. A few people looked at me as I passed, but still no confused faces, still nobody laughing at my totally-just-a-joke costume. Holy shit, was I actually pulling this off?

Another banana was manning a keg. Ooh, that wasn't a bad idea. I could get a drink to steady my nerves before I went and found Mateus. The banana grinned as I approached.

“Welcome to the Gamma-Delta-Whatever Masquerade Ball!” he shouted over the music, “Love the costume! Slutty maid?”

“Thanks!” I yelled back, hoping my voice didn't sound too masculine, or that the music was distorting it enough that he wouldn't notice. I hedged my bets, “It's an inside joke!”

“Oh! Haha!” he laughed, “Haha, that's so funny! I love funny girls! I'm kind of a feminist like that!”

I blushed, smiling like an idiot. I really was passing, at least to bananas. 

“You over twenty-one?” he yelled.

“Oh!” Crap, I had been really hoping for a drink, but even if I had been old enough, there was no way I could show him my ID. 

He winked, “Y'know, I heard girls get more flexible as they get older. If you can turn around and touch your toes, you must be over 21, right?”

I stared at him, confused. I had never heard that, and it definitely didn't sound foolproof. I almost corrected him, and then it hit me what he was trying and I burst into a fit of anxious giggles. He was hitting on me! He wanted to see up my skirt!

Okay, I wasn't a total idiot. I knew that frat guys could be horny and gross. And if I had witnessed him trying something like this on an actual girl, I would've been furious. It was creepy and misogynistic and predatory, taking advantage of his limited power as Banana In Charge Of The Beer to pressure women into sexual exploitation. It was unforgivably heinous. 

But the fact that he wanted to do that to me? The fact that he thought I was a girl, and a hot enough girl that he wanted to sexually exploit me? It was almost enough to make me bend over right then and there.

“Gross, Michael!” a girl yelled. She swooped in next to me and put an arm around my waist protectively, glaring at the perverted banana, “Just give her a drink already, you creep!”

The banana, Michael, laughed, “Okay, Dulani. Can't blame a guy for trying!”

He filled two cups and handed them to us. I smiled at the girl who had come to my rescue. She was pretty, a short, curvy brown girl, wearing an orange cheerleader costume that left her midriff exposed. She grinned back at me. Based on her confidence, she was probably a little older than me. Maybe a junior. Or just really cool. 

“C’mon!” she said, “Let's ditch this asshole! Bye Michael!”

She grabbed my free hand and led me across the dancefloor. I looked back at Michael, who was shaking his head ruefully. I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him. He wasn't that bad. Was he really into me? 

I gulped down some of my drink and the girl turned to me with a flirty smile. 

“Hi!” she shouted, “I'm Dulani! What's your name?”

“Um!” I hadn't thought this far ahead. I didn't think I would need to, back when I was telling myself my costume was only ever going to be a joke. But I didn't want to spoil things by saying Dominic, and by now I had been taking way too long to figure out my own name, so I begrudgingly settled for old reliable, “Nick!” No, I could do better than that. “Nikki!”

“Hi Nikki!” Dulani shouted. I didn’t love it, but it was at least kind of cool to be referred to with a girl’s name. She continued, “Sorry about Michael, he's a piece of shit!”

“It’s okay!” I shouted back, “Thanks for helping out, though!”

“Any time!” said Dulani. She raised her cup in salute, then took a big sip. I followed suit. I was starting to feel more than buzzed, and couldn't stop thinking about the way Michael had been looking at me. Suddenly my secondary goal, finally losing my virginity, was seeming more and more likely. I gulped down more of my drink. 

“Careful!” said Dulani, “Don't go crazy!”

“I'm okay!” I said, “So that guy Michael, do you know him? Like, did you, like, go out with him or…”

“Ew!” Dulani laughed, “No way! I'm gay!”

“Oh!” I grinned, “Me too!”

Dulani’s eyes widened, and so did her smile, “Really? I thought I knew all the hot lesbians on campus!”

I froze. Shit. I was getting so used to being openly gay that I forgot it had a different connotation if I was pretending to be a girl. Suddenly I felt icky, like I had been leading Dulani on. It was the same creepy feeling I felt when I was in the girls’ dorms with Shawnee and Jess. 

I could keep playing along, pretending I was a lesbian, but that felt wrong. I didn't want to trick Dulani the way I had tricked Michael or the doorman. She was a girl, and she was queer, and she deserved better. 

“I'm… I'm not really…” my voice caught in my throat and I took a deep breath, “I'm actually a guy, usually!”

“Huh?” said Dulani. She studied my face and her mouth opened in a surprised O, “Oh, wow! Okay, yeah!”

“Sorry!”

“It's okay!” she said, although she looked a little disappointed, “So you're, like, for real a guy, though? Like is this costume like a joke, or what?”

“Um!” I felt suddenly very hot, and not just from the heat of all the dancing people around us, “I mean! Kind of, but also I… I kind of like looking like this? A lot?” 

“That’s cool!” Dulani shouted, “So it's just like a drag kind of thing? You're not, like, transgender or anything?”

“Um, I mean!” The answer danced on the tip of my tongue. No, right? That was the easy answer, the answer that I had planned to give when I left the dorm tonight. Sure I had some issues to explore, but until I actually got the chance to explore them in a safe, private way, it was better to just say no and avoid any negative consequences. 

“I might be? I'm not really sure!” I shouted. Shit!

Dulani grinned, “Let me know if you figure it out! You're cute!”

I blushed deep red. Dulani noticed someone over my shoulder and waved, “Casey! Hey girl!”

She disappeared into the crowd, and I finished my drink, heart racing. Oh my god! I just… I just told someone I might be trans.

Oh my god, I might be trans.

I felt a dizzying wave of dread, followed by an even more disorienting wave of excitement. I might be trans. I could be a trans woman. I might actually be able to transition! I clutched a hand to my chest, squeezing my breastform numbly. A Batman in the crowd nodded with approval and I laughed breathlessly.

I needed another drink. 

***

Michael behaved himself this time, clearly nervous that Dulani was lying in wait in case he tried to make a move. I was getting used to the taste of cheap beer, or maybe it was just easier to ignore it when I had already had a few drinks. I sipped politely from my plastic cup as I tried to get my head straight.

Was I transgender? The question had been nagging at me for some time, no matter how firmly I decided not to think about it. A trans person would know they were trans, wouldn't they? But then, surely a cis person would know they were cis. 

I needed to test it more! Sure, I liked dressing like a girl, and looking like a girl, and I liked it when people treated me like a girl. But there were hundreds of alternate explanations for that, even if none were occuring to me right now. It wasn't conclusive proof. I had spent years wondering if I was gay, too, but I only knew for sure once I actually got to test it out in the real world. If I could just test out being trans in the real world, then I would know. But there wasn't, like, a thing I could do to definitively prove it, the way sucking Nick’s cock definitively proved I liked men. The only way I could think of to confirm whether I was actually trans was to actually transition. 

But what if I didn't like it?

Everyone would know that I was so stupid that I mistakenly thought I was a girl, and then I wouldn't even get to be a girl afterwards. 

Fuck that. Fuck that so hard. 

I downed my drink and steeled my resolve. I was not worrying about labels right now! Look pretty. Fuck a guy. Those were my goals for tonight. 

I should find Mateus. He was the one who invited me, so it was only polite to say hi. Plus… he was gay. And pretty attractive. And if he wasn't interested in me, he might have equally attractive gay friends who would be. 

I wandered around the house, squirming my way between drunken partygoers. God, people had no situational awareness when they were drunk. I almost got hit in the face a bunch of times until I finally made it out of the living room and into the kitchen. No sign of Mateus, just a gaggle of Taylor Swifts doing shots and a lone Minion who ran his eyes leeringly down my legs. I blushed and smiled at him as I passed. God, it felt good to be looked at that way, by a guy who seemed to really think I was just another college girl. Okay, focus. Gay guys, gay guys…

I couldn't find Mateus anywhere downstairs, so I made my way back to the staircase, squeezing between another banana and a Joker who smelled like he’d been using the same costume, unwashed, for a few years in a row. I almost wished I had Nick with me. If nothing else, he was good for getting through crowds.

I reached the top of the stairs, and as if I had been overheard by some asshole genie, there was Nick. 

“Back up!" he yelled, in concert with three or four other drunken voices. I pulled my head back and a toilet plunger went flying past my face and bounced off the far wall, where someone had hung up a large portrait of the Dean. The voices all groaned. I poked my head out of the stairwell and glared at Nick, who was hanging around with a bunch of costumed goons I recognised from the track team. 

“You almost hit me, you idiot!” I said.

“You just came barging in out of nowhere, dumbass!” Nick shot back, “We’re doing shit!”

“Yeah, stupid shit!” I snapped, “Do you guys think you're in a fucking eighties movie or something?”

“Can you fuck off already?” said Nick.

“Whoa, hey,” said a guy in a basketball jersey, apparently dressed up as someone named James, “Go easy on her, Dom.”

“It's fine, I know h… we know each other,” said Nick. He walked over to collect the plunger, and the few other plungers scattered around it. Did the frat guys buy a bunch of plungers specifically for throwing purpose? At least that was hygienic. Nick looked over his shoulder as he passed me, “Did you want something?”

“Yeah,” I stuck my chin up stubbornly, “I want you to stop throwing plungers at people like a bunch of morons.”

“Oh, so you're allowed to protest the Dean but we’re not?” said Nick. He stooped to pick up a couple of plungers and wedged them under his right armpit.

“Oh sure, this is a totally coherent political statement,” I scoffed.

“It's practice,” said Nick. 

“The word is praxis,” I said. I actually kinda knew what that meant now. 

“Nah, I meant practice, cause it doubles as javelin training,” said Nick. 

I rolled my eyes, but before I could offer a retort, Karl had joined us. He had made even less of an effort with his costume than Nick, wearing red short shorts and a tanktop that showed off his pale, not-impressive-at-all muscles, with only a pair of plastic devil horns to indicate he was even dressed up.

“Hey babe,” he beamed at Nick, “Thought you might need some help with the plungers.”

Nick tensed, “Dude, I'm fine. I got it.”

“It's okay,” Karl soothed. He pulled the plungers from Nick’s underarm grip and turned to me with a smile, “Hey, I'm Karl, I’m Dom's b–what the fuck?”

Nick sighed and kept collecting plungers. Karl stared at me, eyes agog.

“Hello, Karl,” I said, “I thought this was a costume party.”

“He's the devil,” Nick called out. 

“Yeah, but where’s his costume?” I smirked up at Karl.

“Little Dom?” he said

“Ugh. Just Dom.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Karl said. He sounded more confused than angry, but he did sound angry. 

I blushed, suddenly not feeling quite as confident. But fuck Karl! He was the one person in the world whose opinion I cared about less than Nick’s. I stuck up my nose.  

“It's an inside joke,” I said, in my most condescending tone, “Nick is always giving me crap about how we don't have a maid, so–”

Karl turned to Nick, who had just arisen with another couple of plungers in hand. 

“You asked him to dress like this?” he said, and now his voice sounded much more angry than confused. 

“Whoa, what? No. What?” Nick stared back at him.

“Well you sure didn't look fucking surprised to see him,” said Karl. 

“I already saw him!” Nick protested, “We fucking live together.”

“Is that why you got here so fucking late?” Karl said, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I didn't think he should be walking around on his own dressed like that…” Nick muttered, avoiding Karl’s eyes as he reached for another plunger. 

“Give me the fucking plungers, Dom,” Karl snatched for them.

Nick recoiled, “Dude, I told you I fucking got it!”

“Hey, so I was just–” I started. 

Karl whirled around at me, “Get the fuck out of here, cocksucker!”

I flinched, “Jesus! Fine!”

I fled down the stairs, face burning, and kept going until the sounds of Nick and Karl arguing got swallowed up by the music. Fuck! So much for not telling him about the stuff we had done together! Just spread all my secrets around, Nick! Don't worry about giving me a heads up or anything!

Fucking Nick. Fucking Karl. Fucking Mateus not being around so I could actually have some fun at this fucking party. Stupid fucking boys!

I marched right back up to the keg, where Michael the banana was still working. 

“I need another!” I shouted over the music. 

“You okay?” said Michael, “You look pissed off!”

I crossed my arms in a huff, “I’m fine! You're a brother, right?”

Michael shrugged, “Pledging! S’why I gotta be one of the banana bitches tonight!”

“Do you know where Mateus is?”

“Beard guy? I dunno!”

“Ugh!” I stamped my foot in frustration. He was probably upstairs, blocked off by Nick and Karl and their stupid drama and their stupid plunger game which I doubted was politically motivated at all.

Michael frowned, “Are you sure you need another drink? You seem kinda, uh…”

I glared at him. Another stupid fucking boy ruining my night! Dulani was right, Michael was a piece of shit. 

Wait. That gave me a really good idea. 

“If I was drunk,” I purred, tapping into my tipsy brain's best approximation of feminine wiles, “Would I be able to do this?”

Michael tilted his head, which in his banana costume meant that his whole body tilted. I giggled and turned around, took a deep breath, checked one last time whether or not this was a good idea (it was), then bent over and touched my toes. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” I heard Michael’s awed voice behind me and grinned. Stupid fucking boys!

In my maid costume, bending over like this was extremely perilous. My skirt was so short, especially when boosted up by the little built-in petticoat underneath, that it provided basically zero coverage, allowing Michael to get a peek of my smooth, pale thighs peeking out of the top of my thigh-highs, and my pert little ass in my almost-modest black panties. But I was securely tucked, and Nick had taken enough peeks of my ass that I knew it was worth showing off. 

I straightened up and turned back to Michael with an expectant smirk. He nodded approvingly and filled up a cup.

“You're the first girl to actually do that tonight!” he shouted over the music.

I winked, “Who knows what else I'll do?” 

Michael's jaw dropped and I gave him a little wave of my fingers as I took my drink and disappeared into the crowd. 

***

The dancefloor was as dark, crowded and sweaty as before, but with one more drink in me I found I didn't mind it so much. My head was truly buzzing now, and I let it consume me, let myself get lost in the music and the lights and the people. I had always felt awkward dancing, but it felt different tonight. I could feel my skirt swishing around my legs, my hair tickling my face, the weight of my fake breasts tugging at my chest. It felt good. It felt right. For maybe the first time since I arrived at Great Oaks – maybe the first time ever? – I felt like I belonged. 

I don't know how long I spent just dancing, letting my head empty out, but I got shocked back to reality when I felt a large, strong hand squeeze my ass, rough fingers groping the bare skin under my skirt. I spun around but couldn't see the culprit, some horny college guy who blended in with everyone else. My face flushed and I grinned. I was still passing. Still looking like a girl, a pretty girl, a girl that guys wanted to touch. I felt another touch, softer, on my shoulder, and turned again. It was the cheerleader girl, Dulani, looking as hot and wired as I felt, clearly a little drunker or higher than when I last saw her. 

“Dulani!” 

“Nikki!” she beamed, “You're so hot!”

“Thank you!” 

I still felt a little iffy about the name, but I definitely appreciated the compliment. Dulani took my hand, leading me into a spin. I laughed and twirled around obligingly, then took my turn spinning her, and for a while we just danced together. I copied her movements, swaying my hips and tossing my hair around. It felt amazing. Dulani was one of the few people at this party who knew my secret, but she didn’t seem put off by it at all. The more we danced together the more I felt like I really was just another girl, like we were two of the same thing. The song changed and Dulani moved in close with a twinkle in her eye.

“Did you figure out whether you're trans yet?” she asked, “I wanna kiss you, but I don't kiss guys!”

I laughed breathlessly and shrugged my shoulders, “Probably!”

"Probably?”

Fuck it! The music was pulsing and I felt light-headed and hot and free. Why overthink things?

“Yeah! I think so!”

“Yay!” Dulani squealed, and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug, “That's so cool!”

“Yeah!” I grinned. It was cool.

Dulani pulled back a little, with a cheeky smile, “So… may I?” 

I laughed, “Why not?”

Dulani’s smile widened, and she leant back in for a kiss.

It was the first time I had ever kissed a girl, the first time I had ever kissed anyone if you didn't count Nick's cock. Dulani’s lips were soft and warm and tasted sweet, like peaches, and I froze up, not quite sure what to do. I just stayed still, letting her take the lead. Her body was pressed up to me, warm and sweaty, and I heard a round of “Woo!”s from appreciative guys around us watching the show. That made me giggle, and Dulani pulled away with a rueful shake of her head. 

“You're so hot, Nikki!” she said, “But you are not a good kisser!”

I laughed, too busy taking in the lustful gazes of the men around me, “Sorry!”

“That's okay!” Dulani gave me another little peck on the cheek, then spied someone over my shoulder, “Casey! Wanna make out?”

She disappeared into the crowd. To my disappointment, the guys followed her, apparently figuring two girls were better than one. That was okay. I would find more guys. Maybe even get my second ever kiss.

I touched my lips, still warm and wet from when Dulani kissed me. Did my lipstick need to be touched up? Better check. I had a spare lipstick stuffed in my bra (it wasn't like I could feel it poking into my breast forms) so I headed to the bathroom to fix myself up. A couple guys tried to grind against me on my way there, and I was fine with that too. God, frat parties were fun!

I had found the bathroom earlier, when I was looking for Mateus, but the drinks were going to my head and I couldn't remember where it was. For a while I just wandered through the house, enjoying the silly, dizzy headspace I was in, soaking in the appreciative looks from frat boys. It seemed as least one guy was into me in every room. Maybe I was hotter now that I was less anxious, or maybe my ego was inflated and I was just imagining it. I was pretty sure it was real though, and it felt amazing. 

I turned a corner and there it was, a familiar door, with three girls lined up outside it, and Karl leaning against the opposite wall, nursing a drink. My heart sank. This fucking guy. I turned, but before I could get away Karl noticed me. “Hey!”

I could've just pretended I didn't hear him and walked off. But it wasn't in my nature to back down from a dick like Karl. I stared him down coolly, “Yes, Karl?”

Karl straightened up, looming over me again. His expression was devoid of the smug condescension I had gotten used to from him. He had clearly been drinking too. His voice was slurred, and his devil horns sat askew in his white-blond hair. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he said, “I fucking told you to stay away from Dom!”

“Oh, grow up!” I snapped back, “Do you seriously think I'm trying to steal him from you? Fucking Nick? If anything, I’m grateful for you taking him off my hands for a while!”

“Why are you here?” Karl said again, his voice rising to a frustrated whine. I couldn't help it, I smirked, which only made him more angry, “Just fuck off! Leave us alone! Don't you have shit to do?”

“I do!” I protested, “My friend Mateus invited me here! It's not my fault Nick got invited too!”

“Stop fucking calling him that!” Karl yelled. The girls by the bathroom door were staring at us now, but Karl didn't notice. “Enough with the fucking nicknames and, and the fucking…” he gestured at my maid outfit, and I popped out a hip obligingly, showing it off. He snarled, “The fucking inside jokes? What the fuck? What the fuck is that? You have some fucking joke where you dress like a slut? You found out he likes girls so now you're trying to fucking look like a girl for him?”

I actually laughed out loud at that. As if! As fucking if! Yes, maybe my costume was designed to attract attention from guys, and yes, as a dumbass horny guy Nick fell into that category, but I was not wearing it for him.

And, I thought with a swell of drunken confidence, I didn’t look like a girl. I was a girl. 

“You're fucking crazy!” I shouted.

“Stay away from my fucking boyfriend!” Karl shouted back 

The bathroom door burst open and Nick stepped out, looking pissed.

“Holy shit, can you stop fucking yelling?”  he hissed, hunching over like it was somehow gonna hide his towering body from the gaggle of girls watching us with wide eyes. “I could fucking hear you from the bathroom.”

“He started it!” I said. 

“Just admit you fucked him!” Karl snapped. 

My jaw dropped. Nick groaned, burying his face in his hand, “I told you, I didn't!”

“Bullshit!” said Karl, “I see how you two fucking look at each other!”

“I didn't!”

“We look at each other normal!” I interjected, horrified by the suggestion. “Or with loathing! Seriously, just cause I went down on him a couple of times doesn't mean–” 

Nick flinched and Karl whipped his head around, looking at me in horrified fury, “Fucking WHAT?”

“It doesn't…” I trailed off. Nick was glaring at me now, too, like I had just said something unbelievably stupid. What the hell? Karl already knew about that, he had literally called me a cocksucker like an hour ago!

It struck me now that sometimes people did just call each other cocksucker as a generic insult. Fuck. 

I didn't say anything else, but I didn't need to. For a second Karl’s face was apoplectic with rage, but then it softened, to frustration, then confusion, then a deep, humiliated sadness. 

“I knew it,” he muttered, “I'm so fucking stupid.”

“Karl…” Nick reached for him, but Karl pulled away. 

“Fuck off, Dom,” he said.

“It was before we–”

“Fuck off! I don't fucking care!”

“I knew Nick should've told you!” I said, “He wanted to keep it a secret, clearly, but I always thought–” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Karl interrupted, “Hey, you fucking want to dress like a maid? Here's something for you to clean up, bitch.”

He tossed his drink at me, and I shrieked as the cold, sticky liquid shocked my face soaked into my costume.

“What the fuck!" I squeaked, hopping away far too late, desperately trying to swipe the beer off me with my bare hands, “Do you know how fucking expensive this costume was?”

“Make your daddy buy you a new one!” Karl yelled over his shoulder as he stormed off, “Enjoy your slut, Dom!”

“Fuck, Karl!” Nick started after him, then turned to me, conflicted, “Are you–”

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, “This is your fault, you stupid asshole!” 

Nick started to say something but I ignored him and ran into the bathroom with a sob, slamming the door behind me. Fuck! I was meant to be here to touch up my lipstick a little, but now I looked in the mirror and the pretty girl I had felt like for a few precious moments was gone, replaced by a wet, bedraggled rat, with stringy wet hair and a stupid costume covered in dirty brown liquid. I cried stupidly and did my best to try and clean myself off, but it was pointless. Fuck, I was so embarrassed. The way Karl had yelled at me, like I was some desperate creep trying to steal Nick, fucking Nick, like I was some stupid idiot perverted boy…

There was a knock on the door and I yelled, “I told you to leave me alone, Nick!”

“Hey, it's me!” said a voice, but it wasn't Nick’s. I sniffled and straightened up a bit. If was another guy, someone who sounded familiar.

“Michael?”

“Heyyy, she remembers me,” Michael said through the door. I chuckled weakly. “You want company? It’s cool, one of the brothers saw what happened, they kicked that guy out.”

“Oh,” I rubbed my eyes, probably just smearing my mascara, “That's good. Um. You… You shouldn't come in. I look…” I glanced at the mirror and almost started crying again.

“Hey, I'm sure you look great,” said Michael, “I'm gonna come in, okay? Unless you're naked or something, then, uh, I'm not gonna come in but I'll be real sad about it.”

I sniffle-laughed and Michael opened the door. He smiled me, looking warm and friendly and still wearing that stupid banana costume. I giggled despite it all and he cracked a grin. 

“I told you,” he said, “Still a baddie.”

“Shut up,” I murmured, but I could feel a smile teasing at my lips.

“I like getting girls wet, but usually not like this,” Michael said. 

“Oh my god,” I snorted, then blushed and covered my mouth. Michael laughed.

“You wanna come out and join the party again?” he said, “I'll keep you safe from assholes like him.”

The thought sounded tempting. Michael was quite handsome, for a banana, with a strong jaw and some attractive stubble. I was glad he still didn't realise I was just a dumb boy in a costume. I looked in the mirror again forlornly.

“My makeup is all fucked up,” I said miserably, “And my costume.”

“No, your makeup’s fine,” said Michael, “Looks hot. Like, dirty and stuff. And your costume…”

He approached me, his hands grasping for my waist. I tensed, but let him reach out, encircle his arms around me, and pull apart my apron strings. He pulled it away, followed by the headpiece from my hair. I sniffed and looked in the mirror. The black dress was still a little wet, but you couldn't tell that well from the dark fabric. And maybe my smeared makeup did look kinda sexy, in a grungy, club girl kind of way. If I wasn’t so drunk, I might have felt a little different about it. But I was drunk, and so was everybody else, and if Michael said it was fine I was happy to believe him. I perked up a little.

“Cmon, let's get a drink,” Michael smiled. He tossed my soiled accessories in the tub and took my hand. I lingered reluctantly.

“I don't have a costume now…” I said.

Michael ignored me and pulled out of the bathroom. I followed him, my heart racing a little.

“No problem,” he said. He lead me through the corridor, and as we passed a couple making out against a wall, he reached out and plucked a cat ear headband off the girl’s head. He turned to me, gesturing for me to bow. I rolled my eyes, but leant forward so he could put it on for me .

“There,” he said, “Sexy black cat.”

I tried to stare him down but couldn't hold back a blushing smile. 

“Ayy, she likes it,” he said, “Now we got a perfect couples costume.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Cat and banana?”

“Sexy cat and sexy banana,” said Michael. I giggled and he winked, “C'mon, let's go find something fun to do.”

***

“Guys, how many times do I have to explain it?” the gamemaster groaned, “The rules are simple! We go around the circle and everyone takes turns drawing a card. Whatever card you pull, it determines who drinks, what game you have to play, what rule you have to follow, whether or not you create a new rule, whether that rule applies to the specific game you just played or to the overarching game as a whole, and whether or not you draw from the bonus deck and if so how many cards you have to draw! Any questions?”

The gamesmaster was the frat brother in charge of the drinking game we were playing. He was a bespectacled senior wearing a black hooded jacket. He had also been wearing a geometric black face mask, but he had to take it off when he tried to explain the rules the first time and everyone yelled at him that they couldn’t understand him. He had explained the rules again three times without the mask and it wasn’t helping. 

“What does a six mean again?” someone yelled out.

“Six is for chicks,” said the gamesmaster, “All the girls drink!”

“What about seven?” said someone else.

“Seven is for Kevin!” the gamesmaster groaned, “Come on, guys!”

“What the fuck does that mean? All the Kevins drink?”

“All the guys drink, cause Kevin is a guy’s name,” he said, “This is common sense.”

“How about Ace?”

“Ace is for face,” the gamesmaster announced, “Because you will face off with another player in a round of beer pong.”

“Wait, what happens if we pull an Uno Reverse card?”

“I think I know this!” an angel with smeared lipstick piped up, “It means the order changes direction!”

“Wrong!” said the exasperated gamesmaster, “Uno Reverse is for You So Perverse. Whoever drew the card has to share their dirtiest secret, and if we decide it’s not perverse enough…”

“...they have to drink?” someone guessed.

“No! They have to face off in a round of flip cup!” said the gamesmaster, “Were none of you paying attention?”

The circle erupted into chaos again. I shook my head and turned to Michael, who shrugged sheepishly. 

After he rescued me from the bathroom, Michael had walked me around the party for a little while, showing me around the house, explaining the lore behind all the stupid fratty decorations on the walls. I asked him about the political meaning behind throwing plungers at a picture of the Dean, and he confirmed that there was none. One of the brothers stole a portrait of the Dean from somewhere on campus, and they just liked that he had a big shiny bald head, which was really satisfying to stick a plunger to.

It was nice at first, feeling Michael’s arm wrapped around me, letting him take the lead, feeling small and cute and feminine. He even introduced me to some of his friends. I went with “Nikki” again, which was really getting old. It felt a bit too much like I was letting Nick win, and I hated having that hanging over me on what should’ve been such a fun occasion. Maybe that was why Michael eventually started grating on me. He was being very dominant and in-control, which was nice earlier on, when I was feeling insecure, but the more I got my confidence back the more I resented it. It was very patriarchal, as Miel would say. 

I missed Miel. 

Anyway, we had eventually ended up upstairs, and Michael had found a group of partygoers crammed into somebody’s bedroom, and the gamesmaster explaining a drinking game. He had been very enthusiastic about us joining in. 

“Trust me, I know it sounds complicated, but it’s really fun,” Michael said, “This guy’s a genius at designing games.” 

“It seems like he just crammed a bunch of different drinking games together,” I said. 

Michael shook his head and patted my thigh condescendingly, “Don’t worry, Nikki. I’ll explain the rules as we go.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered. Michael’s hand lingered on my thigh, squeezing gently. He had been touching me a lot, and I couldn’t remember him ever actually asking first. I didn’t want to seem like a buzzkill by pointing that out, though. Instead I said, “I think I’m gonna need a drink to play this game, right? Could you go get me one?”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael looked around, “I’m sure one of my buddies could…”

“Aww, but Michael!” I batted my eyelashes at him, “You’re so good at serving me drinks.”

Michael puffed up his chest a bit, looking proud, “Hey, that’s why they put me on keg duty I guess.”

“Bleh,” I stuck out my tongue, “That cheap beer is so nasty, though. Do you think you could find me something nicer?”

Michael frowned, and then a thought seemed to strike him, and he grinned, “Yeah, I’ll get you something real special, Nikki. You wait here for me, okay?”

“Sure thing!” I smiled, “Chop chop!”

Michael left the circle and I sighed and wiped my thigh clean of his sweaty handprint. That should take him a little while. If he was going to mix up a cocktail or something, I assumed he would have to go downstairs to the kitchen, or back to wherever the pledges lived, which I assumed was down in the basement somewhere. 

Honestly, Michael wasn’t so bad. Okay, maybe he was kind of dumb, but all boys were kind of dumb. And he was also kind of charming, and quite good-looking, and he definitely wanted to have sex with me. That thought made my tummy fill with butterflies. It would be really, really cool to have sex tonight, to make a guy horny and desperate until he was begging for me to touch his dick, to stroke it, to take it inside me… I shivered. Yes, it would be really cool. But Michael might not be the best choice. He didn’t know I wasn’t a real girl. I mean, not that trans girls weren’t real girls. But I had only been trans for, like, an hour. And I wasn’t even necessarily totally sure that I even actually was…

Now that I was away from the pumping music, my head was starting to settle, and I was feeling a little depressed. I was overthinking again, obsessing over labels instead of just going after what I wanted. I was trans, I wasn’t trans, whatever. Tonight I was a girl. But I was a girl with a penis, and I wasn’t sure how well Michael was going to take that. Maybe he would be cool with it, but it seemed like a long shot. No, if I wanted to get laid tonight, my best bet was to find Mateus and the cool open-minded queer friends I assumed he had. I still hadn’t managed to spot him when Michael was showing me around, but at least now I was upstairs. I scanned the circle, just in case Mateus was sitting somewhere in the room. Michael had been distracting me when I came in, after all. But I couldn’t see any sign of his bearded face. I sighed. Okay, I would stick around until Michael got back with my drink, then make an excuse to leave. 

“So, wait,” said a confused frat brother dressed as a skeleton, “If I pull a jack, I gotta pour some of my drink in the cup?”

“Nope,” the gamesmaster sighed, “That’s if you pull a king. Jack is for Jack,” the gamesmaster pulled his hair back flat against his head and put on a weird drawly voice, “Like me, Jaaaack. Y’know, Jack Nicholson. So if you pull a Jack…”

He pointed to the far wall, where a little projector was displaying an old movie, paused on the opening scene. 

“...if you pull a Jaaack, we watch five minutes of The Shining, and every time it’s peak cinema, you take a drink.”

The bedroom door opened behind me. I turned eagerly, hoping it was Michael with my drink. But instead it was a gaggle of Nick’s track buddies. I recognised James, in his basketball jersey, and a blonde cowgirl I was pretty sure ran long distance. They crowded in the doorway.

“What are y’all playing?” said the cowgirl.

“It’s a drinking game,” said the gamesmaster.

“Oh, sick,” said James, “What are the rules?”

There was a chorus of groans, and the gamesmaster shook his head, “No way I’m explaining this again. You wanna play, just join the circle and figure it out as we go.”

The runners agreed and piled in, aiming for the gap next to me that Michael had recently vacated. People shuffled out of the way to make room, and I followed suit, taking care so that my skirt wouldn't ride up as I wiggled along the floor. When I looked up I saw that James was sitting next to me. The cowgirl was on his other side, and right next to her was, god damn it, a sullen-looking Nick. 

“Un-fucking-believable,” I muttered. 

“Yo, sorry for squeezing in,” James said, “We’re just tryna cheer up our buddy.”

I did not feel any sympathy for that, and certainly not any guilt. Whatever had happened between Nick and Karl was not my business and not my fault. 

“Eight!” someone announced, holding up a card. The game had begun.

“Eight is for great!” said the gamesmaster, “So you’re going to play a great game called Truth or Dare or Drink or Make Up A New Rule!”

That led to a whole bunch of ruckus, which I tuned out. I fiddled with my thigh-highs, tryna get them straightened out. Ugh, I could see the beer stains on them.

“Whoa, smells like you had a few,” said James. 

“I didn't ask you, James,” I said testily.

James tilted his head, “James?”

“Your jersey literally says James on it.”

“Oh yeah, haha. I'm dressed as LeBron,” James laughed like that should've been obvious. I glared at him. Why wasn't he wearing a jersey that said LeBron, then?

“New rule!” the gamesmaster shouted, “Anytime this game passes the Bechdel test, take a drink!”

The next person drew an ace and began laboriously setting up cups for a beer pong match. The already crowded bedroom was feeling even more cramped. Some of the senior brothers’ bedrooms had ensuites (which wouldn't usually have impressed me, but I was continuing to lower my standards for accommodation) but even with some of the circle crammed in there, we were still pressed for space.

“Hey, you look kinda familiar,” said James, or LeBron, or whatever his actual name was. “We met before?”

“Nope,” I said. James had probably seen me on the bus when we went to Batesville, but I didn't want to have that discussion. I pointed to the beer pong set up, where the guy who drew the ace was looking for an opponent. “You should go shoot some three pointers, LeBron.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he hopped up eagerly, leaving me sitting next to the cowgirl. Crap. Now I was only one spot away from Nick, who was still scowling sulkily at the floor. 

“Heyyy!” said the cowgirl, “I'm Sienna.”

“Nikki,” I muttered. Nick snorted and I glared at him, but he still wasn't looking my way. 

“Does this game make any sense to you?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said, “But I haven't really played any drinking games before.”

The gamesmaster’s head whipped around. 

“Everyone take a drink!” he said.

“What the hell?” said the confused skeleton. 

“Why?” said the angel with smeared lipstick.

“I just told you! We got that new rule!”

“God damn it, dude, this is why your video game didn't make any money,” the skeleton groaned. 

“My game made a ton of money,” the gamesmaster protested, “I just got sued a bunch. C’mon, everyone drink!”

The skeleton grumbled but acquiesced, and the rest of the circle followed suit. Sienna the cowgirl took a sip of a hard seltzer, and gestured to me. 

I shrugged, “I'm all out.“

“You can have some of mine,” she offered, then smirked, “If you don't mind swapping spit with another girl.”

I laughed, “Wouldn't be my first time tonight.”

Nick looked up, suddenly curious. I ignored him and took a sip from Sienna’s proffered can. 

“Ooh, good for you,” she said, “You like girls?”

I almost corrected her, when I noticed that Nick was very unsubtly trying to listen in on our conversation. I smirked to myself and shrugged innocently.

“Oh, I don't know,” I said, “It was pretty fun. But I like guys too. I've been dancing with so many hot guys tonight, which is really nice, cause the last guy I hooked up with was a total loser.”

“What’s number ten?” said a witch, holding up her card. 

“Ten is for hen,” said the gamesmaster, “Which is like a duck, as in Duck Duck Goose. But our version is called Sip Sip Shot.”

The witch got up and made her way around the outside of the circle, squeezing against the walls of the crowded room as she tapped people on the head to make them drink. The two guys in the middle of the circle were still playing beer pong. 

Sienna shook her head, “Dumb game. Anyway, you were saying about this loser guy?”

“Oh yes, he sucked,” I counted out a list on my fingers, “Annoying, naggy, arrogant, no sense of style, not funny at all, total nerd but also really dumb, always slammed the door super hard for no reason…”

“Ugh, yeah,” Sienna nodded sympathetically, “Sounds like a real jerk.”

“He sounds cool,” Nick interjected, “Dude sounds cool as fuck actually.”

“Excuse you,” I said, “We’re having a private conversation.”

“Oh, this is Dom,” said Sienna, “Dom, have you met Nikki?”

Nick smirked again at my fake name, and I gave him a warning look. He glared back at me, but before he could say anything, the witch tapped him on the shoulder and he had to take a sip from the brown bottle he was holding. 

“Actually,” Sienna squinted at me, “I feel like I've seen you bef–”

“Shot!” the witch yelled, bopping Sienna on the head. She made a break for it, and Sienna leapt to her feet.

“What do I do?” she said. 

“For fuck’s sake!” said the gamesmaster. He held up a bottle of vodka, “Chase her down! If she gets away, you take a shot. If you catch her, you get three immunity tokens! This is basic stuff!”

The witch was still clambering her way over people, and Sienna took off after her.

“There’s no use running, witch!” she yelled, “I’m a marathon runner, I can keep this up all night woops oh fuck sorry shit ahh!”

She stumbled over a sexy nurse and tumbled into the bathroom and out of sight.

“Oh shit,” said Nick, “Sienna, you good?”

“I'm gonna have a little nap!” she called out. 

The witch turned back to check on her, then let out a shriek as Sienna grabbed her ankle. The gamesmaster dutifully doled out her immunity tokens, whatever the hell those were. 

There was no longer anyone left sitting between me and Nick. I eyed him warily. He still looked pissed off, and I wasn’t sure if he was gonna start yelling at me about what happened with Karl. If I was honest, I knew I had kind of fucked up by mentioning the blowjobs. But no way would I ever give Nick the satisfaction of–

“I'm sorry about what happened with Karl,” Nick muttered, “You didn't deserve that.”

“Oh,” I said, “Um. Me too. I know I fucked up, talking about the, um. You know. I seriously thought you told him already.”

Nick rolled his eyes, “Yeah, cause I'm so eager to brag about hooking up with you.”

“You should be so lucky,” I said airily. Nick snorted. “For real though, I'm sorry if I messed things up with your not-boyfriend.”

“Guess he's my not-not-boyfriend now,” Nick sighed, “Whatever. Things weren't going great.”

We sat in silence for a moment, watching a few minutes of The Shining (somebody had pulled a Jack while we were talking). After a while, the door creaked open again. I looked back, and saw Michael, holding a colorful mixed drink in a tall glass. I scrambled to my feet. Whoa. My head was spinning a little as I got up. I was still drunker than I thought. 

“Hey Nikki,” Michael grinned, “I told you I would make you something special.”

He held up the drink, which was a mottled mix of blue and red and brown. I took it gratefully. I might be drunk, but after sitting next to Nick for five minutes I was always ready for more. 

“Thanks!” I said, “I still have no idea how this game works, by the way.”

Michael laughed, “Hey, just stick with it. Trust me.”

“Are you not joining in?”

“I gotta do some Pledge stuff,” he grimaced, “By which I mean the cleaning product. Someone threw up on the pool table. But I'll be back in like ten minutes.” He winked, “Drink up.”

He left and I made my way back to the circle, sitting down as delicately as I could with my wobbly legs. Nick stared at my drink, then at me. 

“You're not drinking that,” he said.  

I blinked, “What?”

“It's not safe,” said Nick. 

I looked at the drink in disbelief. It was a weird mix of colors, sure, but there wasn't, like, a snake in there. 

"Nikki, a guy you don't know just handed you an open drink at a frat party," said Nick, "Don't fucking drink it."

"Fuck you," I scoffed, "Don't tell me what to do."

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Nick said, "What if he put something in it?"

I rolled my eyes, “He did. It's called alcohol. I'm not gonna get roofied, Nick.”

"Why not?" he hissed, "Because you're Dominic Fucking Lane, heir to the Lane family fortune? He doesn't know that. Right now you're just a dumb hot girl at a college party."

If it was anyone else, I would've been shocked by the audacity. Instead I was just pissed off. 

"And you think I’m the judgy one?"

"I'm just saying don't fucking risk it!" said Nick. He reached for my drink. I pulled it away.

Across the circle from us, a shirtless guy (costume unknown) drew a card. 

“Six!” he shouted, “Chicks gotta drink!”

“Fucking finally!” said the gamesmaster, “Someone who listens.”

I raised my drink. Nick was just being a paranoid idiot. Although… maybe part of me was a little nervous. Michael had taken a really long time to make it, and he had been a little pushy before…

“I'm telling you,” Nick said firmly, “Don't drink it.”

He grabbed my wrist.

“Fuck you!” I said. 

I swapped the drink to my other hand, a strategy Nick was not equipped to deal with. He swiped for it with his prosthesis, but I was too quick. I threw my head back and chugged as much of the drink as I could. It was sweet, sour and bitter all at the same time, full of some kind of syrup that was overwhelmingly sugary and yet still not quite enough to drown out the taste of the alcohol.

I slammed my glass down and turned to Nick triumphantly. He looked horrified. 

Almost immediately, I felt a wave of intoxicated nausea and dizziness.

“Oh, shit,” I said. 

“You fucking idiot,” Nick groaned. 

“Oh my god,” I grabbed for his arm, but I got the one on his right and my fingers scrabbled uselessly, tearing at the foil wrapped around his prosthesis.

“Fucking idiot,” Nick said again, but he took my hand and helped me up to my feet, “It’s okay, I got you. You’re gonna be alright.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” I said. The people sitting near us quickly shuffled aside. 

“Ah, fuck. Actually, that’s probably good,” said Nick. He glanced at the gamesmaster’s bathroom but shook his head when he saw the crowd of people in the way, including the two idiots still playing beer pong. “Okay, come on. We’ll find another bathroom.”

My stomach roiled. “Quickly, please…” I groaned. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick muttered. He helped me out of the room and hurried me down the corridor. There was no sign of Michael, already long gone to clean up someone else’s vomit. Probably another stupid sheltered kid who got too big for his boots. Nick checked through different rooms while I focused on trying to stop myself from throwing up. God damn it. My first college party and this was how the night was gonna end? 

“In here,” said Nick. He hustled me through another frat brother’s bedroom and into the bathroom. I knelt down in front of the toilet, fighting off another wave of nausea.

“Okay,” said Nick, “So if you wanna make yourself puke, what you gotta do is..”

I didn’t hear the rest of his advice, because I was busy throwing up. 

***

There was a shower in the bathroom, which was good, because once I was done barfing my guts out I really felt like I needed to clean myself off. I was still sticky from stupid Karl’s stupid beer attack, and sweaty as all hell too, and even though I was sure I didn’t get any puke on me I still felt disgusting. Nick insisted on staying in the bathroom just in case I suddenly passed out, but I made him face the opposite direction while I showered. I struggled out of my dress, took off the undergarments which had seemed so sexy when I put them on but now just felt embarrassing, and sadly detached the breastforms from my chest. I let the shower wash away the grime of the night, as well as the remnants of my makeup and any last remaining trace of dignity I had left. 

I didn’t feel nauseous anymore, but I still felt sick. I tilted my head back, letting the water fill up my mouth like I was trying to drown, I was so stupid. This whole party had been a fucking mess. Just thinking about it made me cringe. Tonight was supposed to be about taking control of my life, but all I had done was let other people push me around. Dulani, Michael, Karl, Nick. What was my big achievement tonight? Letting a bunch of gross frat guys feel me up? Making out with a girl to get male attention? Flashing my panties for free beer? Way to go, Nikki, you feminist hero. Miel would be so proud. 

I spat the water out bitterly, then repeated the process a few times, clearing the gross taste from my mouth. The frat guy had a bottle of 12-in-1 Men’s Cleaning Liquid, and I set to work. I wanted to be as clean as possible, inside and out. Right now I just felt dirty. I came to the party with two goals: look pretty and lose my virginity. Well, having sex was definitely off the table, and I felt less pretty than I ever had. 

I finished my shower, towelled off and patted my hair dry with the frat guy’s towel, which was probably infested with some bacteria that had never before been discovered by science. It was hard to care. 

“You good?” said Nick, still facing away. 

“I’ll live,” I sighed, “Can I have some space? I promise I won’t pass out.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the bedroom.”

Nick left and I got dressed again, slipping my breast forms into my bra with resignation. They wouldn’t be enough to make me look like a girl again, but what else was I gonna do with them? 

I went to leave, then stopped myself. I shouldn’t bother, but… part of me still hoped there was some trace of the beautiful girl I had been for a few brief, shining moments. I turned to the mirror, heart heavy with dread. 

I didn’t see a girl. 

I didn’t see a boy, either. 

What I saw looked more like a drowned rat. Or a drowned cat, considering the ears.

Tears pricked at my eyes and I turned away again, storming out of the bathroom. All I wanted to do was leave this stupid party, yell at Mateus if I bumped into him on the way out, and go back to my dorm to sleep. 

Nick was sitting on the bed, looking at his phone. He had pulled the rest of the foil off his prosthesis, returning it to its usual too-pale, too-small appearance. I glared at it. Stupid thing. Stupid Nick. He wasn’t even wearing a costume anymore, he was just a guy with sunglasses on top of his head. I sniffed, and he looked up. I braced for another petty, cruel remark, knowing that whatever it would be, I probably deserved it. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

I burst into tears. God damn it. God fucking damn it! Why was I such a wreck? Why did tonight have to go so wrong?

“Oh, fuck,” Nick said, awkwardly, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

I wiped my eyes, trying to hold back tears. I started towards the door, but I took a bad step, my ankle buckled and my stupid little heels tilted me sideways. I tumbled forwards and landed in Nick’s lap. The tears kept coming. 

“Shit,” Nick tried to steady me, but my body was shaking too much, “What’s wrong?”

“F-fucking everything!” I sobbed, “I’m so f-fucking stupid and ugly and useless.”

“Hey,” Nick soothed, “That’s not true. Well. I mean. You’re not ugly.”

I sobbed harder, “I just w-wanted to feel like a f-fucking g-girl for once.”

“Uh. Fuck,” Nick patted me on the back, “I mean, you look like a girl. All my friends thought you were a girl. Except Karl, obviously, but…”

I thunked my head against Nick’s chest. Thunk, thunk, thunk. 

“Jesus, Nikki, can you stop that?”

“That’s not my name,” I whined. 

“For fuck’s sake. Dom,” said Nick. I couldn’t help but smile, just the tiniest little bit, at him giving in like that. I rested my forehead against his chest and wiped my eyes again. Nick sighed, “Did someone say something to you? The fucking banana asshole?”

“No,” I mumbled. 

“What is it, then?” 

I closed my eyes, “I’m so stupid.”

“Yeah, but why do you think that?” said Nick. 

Oh, fuck. I started crying again. Of all the dumb things I had done tonight, one stood above the rest. 

“Dom?” said Nick. 

“N-Nick,” I sobbed, “I told th-this girl that I’m transgender.”

“Oh,” Nick said, “Okay. Shit. Do you know her name? I can go find her, and tell it was a joke, or you lost a bet, or…”

“No!” I sobbed.

“No?” Nick said quietly.

“No,” I whimpered, “I don’t want to.”

Nick hesitated. 

“So… are you?”

I pressed my face against his chest. It was solid and warm, even if it was part of a jerk. 

“I don’t know,” I murmured, “I guess so.”

“Damn,” said Nick, “Okay. Cool. That’s cool, Dom. Uh. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said softly. 

“Does anyone else know?”

I grimaced, “Just her. And you, now.”

“Wow,” he said. He rubbed my back soothingly, “Okay. So, uh. Why the fuck did you tell some random girl at a party instead of your fucking friends?”

“I don’t know!” I snapped, “I didn’t want it to be a whole big thing, okay!”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “Yeah, the way you went about it tonight was clearly chill as fuck.”

I wiggled around on his lap, sitting upright so I could glare at him. Nick’s body tensed as I moved. 

“Can you stop being an asshole for like one second?” I said, “I just fucking came out to you! Why the fuck are you criticizing me?”

“You just said you didn’t want it to be a big fucking thing!” Nick protested.

“That doesn’t mean you have to be a dick!” I pouted. I sat back on his lap, jabbing a finger into his chest, “And you better not fucking tell anyone, okay? I’m not ready to be out-out yet.”

“Why the fuck would I tell anyone?” said Nick, “I’m not the fucking Little Dom Weekly News! Hey, you gonna fucking change your name now?”

“Oh you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you?” I sneered. I shoved his chest, momentarily forgetting how big and strong he was. Mostly it just pushed me further back on his lap. I wriggled forward again so I wouldn’t fall off. “Of course that’s your first fucking concern. I just shared a huge personal breakthrough with you, and immediately you’re trying to spin it so you can steal my fucking identity.”

“It’s my identity!” said Nick, “Why do you wanna be called Dominic anyway? You’re a fucking woman!”

I tried to keep up my glare, but being called a woman, even looking as bedraggled as I knew I was right now, really perked me up. I rocked back on his lap again, crossing my arms. 

“Oh, so you think because I’m a woman, I have less of a right to…” I trailed off. Something was poking uncomfortably into the underside of my thigh. Was that Nick’s phone? No, his phone was right there on the bed. So what was…

Oh my fucking god. 

“Nick!” I yelled, “Are you fucking hard right now?”

“Fuck off!” said Nick, “It’s your fucking fault! You were wiggling around on it!”

“I was crying, you fucking sadistic freak!” I scoffed, “What the fuck is actually wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Nick protested, “There’s a fucking girl dressed like a french maid sliding around on my dick! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I’m dressed like a cat now, idiot,” I said, “Don’t you see the fucking ears?”

“Yeah, fuck I’m a fucking dipshit, I guess!” Nick threw his arms in the air and fell backwards onto the bed, “Can you get off my fucking dick now?”

I huffed and folded my arms. Stupid Nick. Such a freak. A smiled tugged at my lips again. Stupid Nick already thought of me as a girl, and apparently it was turning him on.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I said in a low, sultry voice. I rocked my hips against him, grinding against his stiff, trapped dick. Nick gasped and looked up, locking eyes with me. I smirked, “I bet you really want me to get off your dick. Or would you rather I get you off with your dick?”

“Stupid fucking joke,” Nick muttered, but his left hand reached for my ass, slipping up under my skirt and squeezing my soft cheek through my panties. I hissed and kept rubbing up against his hard cock through his jeans. 

“Such a dumb, horny boy,” I murmured, “You act like you’re so much better than me, but you’d do anything for me to suck your cock again right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuuuck,” Nick sighed, “Keep fucking riding me, you little bitch.”

I frowned, “I don’t like that word.”

“Bitch?” said Nick.

I nodded, pressing my little bulge up against his long, thick cock. 

“It feels sexist now that I’m a girl,” I said.  

“Fuck,” Nick said, “Keep riding me, you fucking… brat?”

I grinned, “That works.”

I picked up the pace and Nick groaned. His other arm reached up, and I felt a dull pressure against my chest, like Nick was trying to push me off of him. I looked down, and saw that he was pawing at my boob with his prosthetic hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I said.

“What does it look like, idiot?” said Nick, “I’m feeling your tits.”

“My fake tits? With your fake hand?” I said, “How stupid are you? That’s not doing anything for either of us!”

“It’s fucking visually stimulating!” said Nick. His dick was still hard, pressing up between my soft thighs, “It’s like foreplay or something!”

“Oh, foreplay? You want to fuck me?” I scoffed, “Or are you just gonna stick a dildo in a fleshlight and call it a night?”

“I’m tryna be fucking nice!” said Nick, “I thought it would help you feel like they’re real!”

“If they were real I’d be able to feel it, dipshit!” I snapped, “All you’re doing is reminding me they’re not real!” 

“Fine! Take them off, then!” said Nick. 

“I will!” I got off his lap and struggled out of my dress, standing before him in just my heels, stockings, and lingerie. Nick’s jaw dropped and I rolled my eyes, “Make yourself useful and help me with my bra, okay?”

“Fuck, can’t you do anything for yourself?”

“Do you want to fuck me or not?” I snapped. 

Nick glared at me, then got off the bed and spun me around. I waited for him to fumble with my bra, but in a split second he had already unhooked it. 

"What the fuck?" I said. I took my bra off, pulling the breastforms away from my chest. I turned to Nick "How did you do that?"

"You just have to pinch it," he said. He held up his hand and mimed the action, "It's easy."

"Wow," I said, "You don't fuck around when it comes to undressing a girl."

"No shit," he growled.

Nick was looming over me, swaying a little. Huh. With all the chaos, and how much I had been drinking, I hadn’t picked up on the fact that Nick was pretty drunk himself. He was staring pretty intently at my chest. I blushed. I had seen Nick shirtless dozens of times, but this was the first time it had ever been the other way around. Now he could see, really see, just how flat-chested and boyish I looked. I folded my arms across my chest defensively, my padded bra still hanging from my left hand.

"You don't have to fucking stare at me like that," I said.

Nick reached out and put his hands on my upper arms. He pulled my right arm away from my chest. I let my left arm fall to my side and dropped my bra. Nick kept holding me, his prosthetic hand cool against my bare skin, and leaned forwards, lips slowly parting. I froze. He wasn't going to fucking kiss me, was he?

No. He wasn't. He leaned further down and slowly dragged his tongue across my right nipple. I gasped. Goosebumps raced across my skin.

“Oh my god,” I murmured, “That’s… ah… that’s actually pretty good.”

Nick stopped licking me and looked up with a glare, “You don’t gotta say it like it’s a big fucking surpise.”

“Shh,” I said, “Keep licking, bitch.”

“Oh, so you still get to say it?”

“Uh-huh,” I smirked, “Back to work.”

Nick rolled his eyes but obliged, licking my nipple again, sucking on it, even biting it a little. I gasped and whimpered as electric thrills raced through my body. Fuck, I had enjoyed sucking Nick’s cock, but this was something completely new. I never thought I would like Nick going down on me (it still didn’t sound appealing), but having him pleasure my body like this was pretty fucking incredible. It was definitely a much better way to use his mouth than talking was. 

Nick wrapped his arms around my waist. I shivered at the feel of them against my naked skin, the warm muscle and cool plastic of his mismatched forearms. He switched to my other nipple, nipping at it with his teeth. 

“Fuck,” I gasped, “Oh fuck, Nick. Are we doing this?”

He looked up, “Doing what?’

I sighed with exasperation, “Having sex, idiot.” 

“Fuck,” he said, “You wanna?”

“Nooo,” I groaned, “As you can see I’m not fucking horny at all right now. Yes I want to!”

“Such a fucking brat,” Nick muttered, then he grunted as he clinched his arms tight around my waist and lifted me up off the floor. I shrieked as he carried me to the bed and laid me down on my back. 

“A little fucking warning?” I said.

“Shut up,” Nick muttered. He whipped off his shirt, not bothering to undo the buttons, and started working at his fly. I waited patiently as he fiddled with the button with one drunk hand. He was clearly not quite as good with buttons as he was with unhooking bras. Priorities, priorities. 

I rubbed my legs together as I lay in bed, enjoying the feeling of silky stockings sliding against each other, and the sight of Nick’s toned torso. He had such a hot body. Shame about his broken brain. He eventually managed to get naked, then hunted through his jeans for his wallet. 

“Tonight’s on the house,” I said drily. 

“Fuck off,” Nick said, “I’m getting a condom.”

“Oh. Good idea.”

Hmm. That was a good point, actually. I had experimented with my ass a little over the past few months, and thankfully I had cleaned myself very thoroughly in the shower just now, but I wanted my first time to be as comfortable as possible. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, arching my back until I heard an appreciative grunt from Nick, then searched through the frat guy’s bedside cabinet. Score – he had lube. I squirted some into my hand, then paused. 

“Nick,” I said.

“What?”

“Take my panties off for me,” I said sweetly.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, but he did as he was told. I wiggled my ass for him as he tugged my panties down my thighs. I rolled over and raised my legs, pointing my toes like a ballerina so he could take them off. In this position, my own little dick was exposed, which made me feel a little weird. Nick didn’t seem to mind, though. And oh, holy shit, his own dick was right there for me to see, and there was really no comparison. 

“Fuck,” I whispered, “That’s going in me.”

Nick grinned, rolling the condom over the tip of his dick. This was something else he was very adept at doing with one hand. What a slut. 

I worked some lube into myself, smirking up at him. He pulled off his prosthesis and set it on the bedside cabinet, along with the sock he wore underneath it. He shuffled into position, leaning over me, steading himself with his hand on the mattress next to my head. He exhaled slowly, His breath smelled like beer, but mine probably smelled even worse. 

“You sure about this?” he said. 

I hesitated. Did I really want my first time to be with Nick Lane?

His cock bumped against my thigh, feeling like a burning iron rod. Another wave of goosebumps rushed through me.

Fuck it. There would be a second time. I’d make that one special. 

“Put it in,” I said. 

Nick frowned, “I can’t just put it in. It’ll hurt.”

“Oh fuck off,” I said, “I’m not a complete fucking wimp. I can handle it.”

“Alright” Nick shrugged a shoulder, “But I still can't put it in.”

I almost told him off again, until I caught the tone in his voice and understood what he meant. His hand was still next to my head, holding himself in position, his strong, fit body blocking out the light. I took a deep breath and reached for his cock, shivering a bit as I felt it pulse against my palm. It felt strange, through the rubbery texture of the condom, but it was still burning hot, hard, and straining to be inside me. My breath quickened as I guided it into position. 

“I’m really doing this,” I whispered.

“It's okay,” Nick said gently, “I've done this a bunch of times. I’ll go real slow for you.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but all it did was remind me of how passive I had been all night. 

“Change of plans,” I said, “Get on your back.”

“What?”

“On your back!” I snapped, “We’re doing this my way, or not at all.”

Nick grunted but rolled off me. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, and got another handful of lube ready. Better safe than sorry. I reached behind me and stroked his dick a few times, making sure it was as slippery as possible, then pulled it back into position, jabbing in between my soft cheeks. 

“That's right,” Nick breathed, “Take my fucking cock.”

I looked down at him. There he was, the same stupid jerk who had been tormenting me all semester, naked and eager, his body dark and manly and powerful, his eyes burning with lust as he took in my soft, feminine form. He was going to fuck me. 

No.

I was going to fuck him.

He was so tall, so athletic, his body sculpted for peak performance. But right now, he was laid out helplessly underneath me, letting me push him around, position him right where I wanted. For the rest of the night, the only thing he would use his powerful body for was bringing me pleasure. 

“That's right, Nick,” I purred, “Give me that big, stupid dick.”

I relaxed my muscles as best I could and pressed down onto the head of his cock. 

“Oh, fuck. Mmf. Fuuuuuck.”

This was harder than I thought. Oh, god. He was thick. Was he this thick when I blew him?

“Fuck yes, Nikki,” Nick hissed.

“Shut up, Nick!” I whined. I exhaled and pressed down again, and slowly, steadily, I felt his cock stretch me open. I whined softly as I sank down deeper, deeper, deeper…

It took a while, it hurt more than I hoped, and it wasn't totally dignified. But before long, I had the whole thing inside me. Well, most of it, anyway. Enough that I was basically sitting on Nick’s lap. He shifted underneath me and his cock pressed against my insides. 

“Fuuuuuck,” I moaned, “Okay, shit. I see why Karl put up with you.”

“Can you not fucking– oh, fuck…” Nick hissed, “Time and fucking place.”

I smirked. Shakily. Okay, yeah, maybe not the best thing to talk about in this situation. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't give me a sick satisfaction to be fucking Nick so soon after Karl accused me of trying to steal him. 

I didn't need to steal anything. Whatever I wanted was mine for the taking. 

I raised myself up slowly, moaning at the feeling of Nick's thick, lubed cock sliding against me, the fat head dragging against my walls. It caught against something inside me and I gasped at the pulsing, electric feeling. I had read about this. My g-spot, or p-spot, or whatever you called it. He was pressed up against it, and it was sending the most amazing, blissful pressure radiating out along my stiff little leaking dick. 

“Oh my god, Nick,” I whined, squeezing my eyes shut right in the throes of ecstacy. I shifted the slightest bit, rubbing myself against him, “Oh my god!”

“You like that?” Nick gasped.

I opened my eyes, "Obviously I fucking like it! I wouldn't be moaning and squirming if I didn't like it!”

“No shit!” said Nick, “It wasn’t a genuine question!”

“Then stop saying stupid shit and just fuck me!” I said.

“Fine!” said Nick, and he grabbed my right hip and pulled me down on his cock. 

My ass slapped against his lap and his whole huge cock rammed up inside me. 

“Oh my god!”

I just about cried, from the shock and the impact and the fact that it felt so, so fucking good. If pressing against my p-spot felt like a blissful pressure, this felt like an explosion, like a jolt of electricity rushing through my body. I could swear my hair stood on end. I slapped Nick’s hand away and lifted myself up again, bracing my hands against his chest for leverage, then brought my ass back down again. 

“Oh my fucking god, Nick!” 

“Fuck yes, ride my fucking cock.”

“I'm fucking doing it! Ugh!”

I bounced on Nick's cock again and again, gasping and whining at the waves of pleasure it sent through me. God, why was he wasting his time with hurdles? This was what he was made for, for fucking me, fucking my ass, for making me feel so good. He brought his hand back to my hip but I let him this time, let him pull me down harder against him as I stared, wide eyed and breathless, against his pleasure-stricken face. Clearly this felt as good for him as it did for me, not that I could care less. 

“Fuck, Nikki,” he grunted, “Take my fucking cock! Take it! Take this cock, you spoiled fucking brat!”

“Fuck me harder!” I panted, “And don't you fucking cum, Nick. Don't you dare fucking cum until I'm done with you, you fucking asshole!”

My ass slapped against him, again and again, as I did my best to pound him into the mattress and he did his best to pound me back. Fuck, I was getting so close, I could feel it, feel my orgasm building inside me. I sped up even more and Nick’s breath quickened. His grip tightened on my hip.

“Don't you do it!” I warned him, “Don't you cum, Nick.”

 Nick’s eyes closed, his face contorted as his cock grew inside me, “I'm gonna–”

“No you're not! Hey!” I leaned down and grabbed him by the chin. His eyes snapped open, glaring up at me, dark with hate and lust. “Don't you cum, Nick Lane. Not until I cum f-f– fuck!”

My hips bucked desperately against him and I felt myself go over the edge. A wave of heat crashed over my body, and my whole abdomen clenched down hard, from my tummy down to my tight, wet little asshole, and my cock spurted helplessly against Nick’s chest. 

Something in that did it for Nick – the pressure, or the sight of me cumming, or the fact that his job was done, and a split second later his eyes widened and I felt his cock swell again, and a strange throbbing feeling as he came deep inside me. 

I collapsed onto him, panting desperately. 

“Damn,” Nick breathed, “That was… damn.”

“Good work,” I murmured. I patted him on the cheek, then dragged myself off of him, his cock sliding out of my asshole with a sound like a wet slurp. I was too exhausted to be embarrassed, even besides the fact that my body was still thrumming with pleasure. 

I rolled off of him and immediately sank into the bed. God, somehow the frat boy’s cheap sheets were the most comfortable thing I had ever felt. I could sleep for a week. 

“Fuck,” Nick muttered, “Messy.”

“Messy?”

“I mean, nothing gross, but… lube, cum…” he grimaced, “Messy.”

“Real nice,” I said.

“Fuck off,” he said, “I'm just saying it's messy.”

“Well, clean it up,” I yawned, nuzzling into the pillow, ready for a nice, long sleep, “We don't have a fucking maid.”

***

When I woke up in the morning, my head hurt. My butt hurt. And I was lying on the scratchiest pillow I had ever felt in my life. 

“Oh no,” I moaned. 

I ran through my memories of last night, trying to ignore my aching head. Dressed up like a maid, danced a lot, kissed a girl, got beer thrown on me, played the world’s dumbest drinking game, drank poison, threw up, came out as…

Fucked Nick. 

“Oh, noooo…”

“Mmf,” Nick grunted.

I rolled over and grabbed him by the short arm. He turned his head towards me blearily.

“Nobody can know, Nick," I said, “Nobody can know.”

He squinted at me in confusion, then his eyes widened. 

“Nobody can know!” I said again. 

“Yep,” he said.

Part of me wanted to go back to sleep, but every second I stayed in bed made it more likely that we would be caught together. I clambered over Nick’s body, shivering a little in the morning cold. I was still completely naked, except for my stockings, which were laddered all to hell. The bedroom door was open, and I hurried over and closed it. Halfway there I stepped on Nick’s jeans, and heard a weird splintery noise. Oops. Whatever that was, I would buy him a replacement. 

God, we had really made a mess of this room last night. Or, actually, maybe it just looked like that already. I searched around the room for my clothes. I found my panties on one side of the bed, and my bra and breast forms on the other. My dress was lying in the middle of the floor, and I picked at it unenthusiastically. It was somehow grosser than I remembered. It smelled like beer and sweat, and was amazingly still damp. I glanced back at the bed. Nick was massaging his temples, probably feeling as bad as I was. His shirt was on the floor by the bed, and I snatched it up and hurried to the bathroom. 

After a quick clean up, I was as close to dressed as I was gonna be that morning. Thanks to Nick’s ridiculous height, his button-up shirt was long enough that it actually came down lower than my dress had. I had to roll the sleeves up a few times so that they didn't cover my hands, but it was kinda cute, honestly. Wearing the oversized shirt, with my stockinged legs sticking out the bottom, I looked like a girl borrowing a shirt from the guy she hooked up with the night before. 

Which is exactly what I was. 

I felt the same mix of regret and excitement I had felt after the first time I went down on Nick. If there was any doubt that I liked men, it was gone now. Last night had been incredible, even with my less-than-ideal choice of partners. My poor butt ached almost as bad as my head, and I shuddered a little as I remembered just how… vigorous I had been. Next time, when I wasn't drunk and was doing it with a guy I actually liked, I would take things a lot slower. Even still, it was pretty great. Look pretty, fuck a guy. I had gotten exactly what I wanted.

The other thing I was less sure about.

I had told Nick I was trans. Not only Nick, I had told someone else, too, a girl I didn't even know before last night, and whose name I couldn't remember this morning. What the hell was I thinking? I had a concrete plan to stop worrying about labels, to leave the trans thing alone and just do whatever made me happy. Why was I going around coming out to people?

I wasn't even sure that I actually was trans, anyway. Yes, I enjoyed being a girl last night, at a party where I didn't know anyone, and got to dress up in sexy costumes, and had no responsibilities besides having fun. I was pretty sure the reality of being a transgender woman was very different. My stomach roiled at the thought, and maybe also because of the hangover. I would have to tell my friends. My lecturers. I would have to tell my father.

I eyed myself in the mirror. God, my hair was a mess. I thought I had cleaned off my makeup last night, but clearly that was only by drunk person standards, because there were still smears of black around my eyes. I hadn't grown much stubble at least, and if you squinted you might still think I was a girl. Maybe it would be better to write it off, to masculinise myself as much as possible and leave the party as a regular guy. Then again, it wasn't like I had pants to wear. And it would be nice to be a trans girl for just a little bit longer. 

I touched up my lipstick (I found the tube on the floor, where I must've dropped it when I got undressed for the shower) and primped my hair as best as I could. I sighed. It was better than nothing. But I was going to have to tell Nick not to–

“What the fuck?”

Nick was yelling from outside the bathroom again. Some things never changed. 

He sounded a lot more panicked this time, though. 

“Fuck! Where is it? Nick!”

“What?” I asked. Nick was frantically pacing around the room, searching for something. He had put his jeans and shoes back on, but hadn't put on his arm yet. Or, notably, a shirt. Typical Nick, always had to flaunt his body.

Oh, wait. Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair.

Nick barged past me into the bathroom, hunting around desperately.

“Fuck!”

“Oh my god, calm down!” I said, “Whatever you lost, I’m sure it's not that big of–”

“It's my fucking arm, Nick!” Nick burst out of the bathroom again. I froze. He was clearly still angry, but he was also scared, in a way I hardly ever saw him. “My fucking arm. If this is you making a fucking joke–”

“It's not, I swear,” I said, “I wouldn't do that. Never.”

Nick exhaled, “I know. Fuck. Nick, that's… my parents had to save up so long…”

“We’ll find it,” I said firmly, “One of these frat douchebags must have stolen it last night. We’ll split up and get it back.”

“Fuck. Yeah. Right,” said Nick. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, “Sorry I freaked out, it’s just… that’s part of my body, dude.”

“No, oh my god,” I said, “That's, like. Yeah. Of course.”

“Yeah,” Nick sighed, “Alright, fuck. Let's go.”

Nick took off down the corridor. I gingerly gathered up the rest of my things, perched my cat ears on top of my head, and followed after him. I still felt a bit wobbly, so I just carried my heels along with my dress, padding carefully through the post-party mess in my stockinged feet. 

The frat house was a disaster. Trash and hungover college students littered the hallway. Nick rushed past me again, going from room to room at a speed I couldn't hope to match, so I headed downstairs. It wasn't any better down here. As I reached the bottom of the staircase, an empty keg bounced past like a tumbleweed in the old west.

I turned a corner and nearly slipped on a discarded banana costume. That reminded me of my own costume, and the accessories I discarded after I got beered last night, so I made my way to the downstairs bathroom. I kept an eye out for Nick’s prosthesis on the way, but it was nowhere to be seen. I flung open the bathroom door and stopped dead. 

“Heyyy!” slurred Mateus, “Lil Dom!”

He was lying in the bathtub, with a bottle of mysterious purple liquid in his hand. He was very clearly still drunk – if it wasn't clear from his voice, the fact that the bathtub was full of water  and he was fully clothed (wearimg chainmail, in fact) would've been a giveaway.

“Mateus!” I said, “I was looking for you all night!”

“Awww no,” Mateus blinked, one eye after the other like a frog, “What for?”

“Um,” I blushed, “Never mind. It, um. It ended up working out.”

“Thass great,” said Mateus.

“Hey, um, have you seen a white apron?” I said, “Or a prosthetic arm?”

“Above th’elbow or below?” said Mateus.

“Below.”

“Ahhhh, no dice,” he shook his head solemnly, “Apron’s over there, though.” 

He pointed at the towel rail and I gladly gathered my things. 

“Wassup with th’arm?” slurred Mateus. 

“Ugh, it's my roommate’s,” I said, “Some dick stole it while he was asleep.”

“Yooo, thass fucked!” said Mateus. I giggled. He was usually so calm and composed, but it seemed like he got very worked up when he was drunk. “Fucken ass! If thass one of the brothers imma givem a real…” he flailed the bottle aggressively.

“As you should,” I nodded primly.

“Fucken hate people juss take whathey want,” growled Mateus, “Don't care how’t affects other people.”

He took a swig from the bottle again and I nodded, “Totally.”

“Like my fucken ex,” Mateus muttered, “Fucken did what he wanted… dint care who he hurt… who he fucked over… who’s boyfriend he stole…”

I hesitated, “Um. Wait, what happened?”

Mateus sighed and turned to me, “Kermit. We used to date.”

“Did he… cheat on you?”

Mateus snorted, “Nah. Open thing. But… found out he had this habit’f… going after guys in relationships… fucker. Always had to feel like he was th’best…”

“Oh,” I murmured numbly. 

Mateus looked at me, unsteady but steely eyes, “Who’d be with an asshole like that?”

“I should really go find this arm,” I said. 

Mateus saluted with his bottle, “Good luck Lil Dommayyy!”

I turned and walked away from the bathroom as quickly as I could. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Mateus had a point. A very obvious point, in retrospect. Maybe Kermit’s worldview was not all it was cracked up to be. Maybe, actually, going after everything you wanted without caring what anyone else thought was the exact kind of worldview you would expect a spoiled rich kid to grab onto. Crap, crap, crap.

Okay. I could think about that later. Right now I was looking for Nick’s arm. I heard noise coming from the dancefloor, and hurried over. 

The room looked so much smaller in the daytime, without the flashing lights and writhing bodies. It was, of course, a total wreck. One of the speakers had a hole right through it. That was fine, though, because nobody was dancing. Instead a bunch of still-drunk college students were sitting in a circle, arguing over each other. 

“Enough!” shouted a guy I recognised as the gamesmaster from the night before, “I’m only gonna say this one more time. If you land on a ladder, you gotta say the alphabet backwards, or drink. If you land on a snake, you gotta play a round of charades, or do a shot. And if you land on Go To Jail, you gotta conduct a seance… with this severed hand.”

He raised a pale, plasticky hand into the air, and the audience oohed.

“Hey!” I yelled, “That's not yours!”

“Silence!” said the gamesmaster, “Only he who holds the hand may speak. I've just decided that's also a rule.”

“Give me that, you asshole!” I snapped, “Do you know how fucking expensive prosthetic limbs are? Give it back!”

The gamesmaster raised an eyebrow, “Pretty sure it's not yours, kitty cat. You already have two hands. Don't be greedy. Now, the rules of the seance–”

Okay. I’d had more than enough of this. I marched up to the gamesmaster and jabbed a finger in his face.

“You listen here, gameboy,” I hissed, filling my voice with all the spoiled, entitled rage I could muster, trying to match the vicious way mother spoke to valets, “My father is an extremely important businessman, with an army of the best lawyers the country has to offer. If you don't give me that hand back this fucking instant, I will sue the shit out of you, and your family, and this whole fucking frat, until you don't have a shiny penny to play heads-or-tails with. Do you hear me?”

The gamesmaster blinked, “Whoa, I was just–”

“I said, do you fucking hear me, you pathetic gamer troglodyte?” I sneered. 

The gamesmaster gulped, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” I said. I held out my hand, and he passed me Nick’s prosthesis. I stuck up my nose and strode away. 

Hopefully Mateus didn't see that. 

I heard Nick thundering down the stairs from three rooms over, and I caught him in the hallway to return his prosthesis. The relieved smile on his face was almost enough to make him look cute. Almost. 

“Oh, fuck,” he said, “Thank you. Where was it?”

I hesitated. It would probably be polite to save Nick the embarrassment of knowing part of his body had been commandeered for some stupid party game. Then again, he wasn't a baby who needed me to protect him.

“That dumb guy who was running the drinking game had it,” I said, “He was trying to use it for another game.”

Well, there went the cute smile. Nick’s face curdled into a thundercloud of rage again. But he took a deep breath and let it out. 

“What an asshole,” he said, “People think they can just take shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, guiltily thumbing at the shirt I had stolen while he was sleeping. 

Nick smirked, “Uh-huh. But you'll give that back.”

“I'll have it dry-cleaned.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Nick laughed, “C’mon, let's get back to the dorm.”

We started down the hallway.

“So, last night…” Nick started.

“One time thing,” I said firmly.

His shoulders relaxed, “Hell yes. Okay. Good."

“Oh, you thought I was gonna fall in love with you?” I teased, “You wish.”

“You seemed pretty keen last night,” Nick smirked. I shoved him and he laughed.

We exited through the front door, and I winced at the bright sunlight. On the lawn, pledges were moping about, picking up garbage and tidying up the property. A frat brother barked orders at them from the porch. 

“Keep it moving, pledges!” he yelled, “We need this place clean as a whistle! A new whistle, without a bunch of gym teacher spit in it!”

“Yes, noble brother!” chanted the pledges. 

“Oh, shit,” Nick tucked his prosthesis under his short arm and pointed, “Isn't that the guy who spiked your drink last night?”

He was pointing at a pledge over by the boundary fence, wearily pushing a manual lawn mower through the grass. I frowned. Didn't these guys have a gardener? I put that thought aside and looked closer. He had ditched the banana suit for a t-shirt with the ΓΔW logo, but that was Michael alright. 

“That's him,” I said. 

“Motherfucker,” Nick snarled, “Hold this.”

He passed me his arm and stormed across the lawn. 

“Whoa, what?” I said, frantically jugging my costume and shoes to make sure I didn't drop his arm. 

“Hey! Asshole!” Nick shouted, “What the fuck did you put in her drink last night?”

Michael looked up. His eyes widened as he took in all six-foot-six of Nick, and then as he saw me hurrying up behind him. 

“Whoa, hey!” he said, “I didn't do anything!”

“Bullshit,” said Nick. 

“Seriously!” said Michael, “Just vodka, I swear! Maybe a lot of vodka, but I figured she could handle it!”

He looked at me beseechingly. He seemed genuine. To be honest, I had been drinking a lot last night, and I didn't really feel any ill effects after I threw up.

“I think he's telling the truth, Nick,” I said. 

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and I suddenly felt extremely exposed. In the cold light of day, Michael seemed to notice something about me, in my face or my voice, that he hadn’t picked up on last night. His expression soured and he turned back to Nick with a sneer. 

“Like I'd wanna do anything with that little freak anyway,” he said. 

Nick grabbed Michael by the collar and slammed him up against the fence. 

“Nick!” I yelled. I dropped my costume and ran up to him. 

“You need to stay the FUCK away from her,” Nick snarled. 

“Oh my god, Nick, it's fine!” I said. I was still holding the prosthetic part of his right arm, but I grabbed the real part with my other hand, trying to pull Nick away. 

“Oh, I’m real fucking scared,” Michael laughed, “What are you gonna do? Hit me with your stump?”

I let go of Nick and kicked Michael in the dick as hard as I could. He let out a high-pitched shriek and his knees buckled. Nick let go of his collar and Michael collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. 

“Let that be a lesson to you, pledges!” yelled the frat brother on the porch, “Gamma-Delta-Whatever does not condone exclusionary behaviour on the basis of disability or gender identity!”

“Yes, brother!” chanted the rest of the pledges. 

Nick gave me a look.

“You know, I'm not a child,” he said, “I don't need you to stand up for me.”

“Me neither,” I crossed my arms, “I kicked him because he called me a freak. Obviously.”

We glared at each other for a moment, then Nick shrugged, “Good kick.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. 

I gave him back his prosthesis then stooped down to pick up my costume. Nick moved behind me, and I realised after a second that he was making sure nobody could see up my dress. Well, up his shirt. I straightened up and turned to Michael, still curled up on the floor.

“Thanks for all the drinks last night,” I said. I pulled the stolen car ears off my head and hung them on the fence next to him, “If you see the girl you took these from, please give them back.”

“Hrnngh,” grunted Michael. 

“My dad has a bunch of really good lawyers, by the way,” I warned him.

“Hngh,” Michael said. 

“Let's go home,” said Nick.

We left the frat house behind us, following the streets back to campus. The sun was already high in the sky, and when we stopped at an intersection I took a moment to take us both in. 

I was still just wearing Nick’s too-big shirt over my lingerie, holding a pair of heels and a bedraggled french maid outfit in my hands. My poor stockings were definitely not going to survive the trip home. Nick leaned against a street sign, still shirtless, carrying his own arm. He pinned it under his armpit for a second, reached into his pocket and put on his sunglasses. One of the lenses was cracked, but the effect still worked, and he looked as lean, mean, and ruggedly handsome as ever. 

Fuck. Okay. Sexy Terminator. I could see it now. 

“Hey,” Nick said, looking down at me over the top of his shades, “Last night, do you remember you told me…”

I squirmed under his gaze. I really didn't want to have this conversation. Not with Nick. Not with a pounding headache. Not after what Michael just called me. 

“I'm probably not transgender,” I said, “I'm just… just figuring stuff out right now.”

“Huh,” Nick said. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “It's your life, Nikki.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I walked briskly across the road. Nick jogged after me, and even without looking I could tell he was smirking. “You are not calling me that.”

“Great joke costume, by the way!” he called after me, “Did it get a lot of laughs?”

“Fuck off, Nick!”

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Lots of big developments this chapter! I hope you liked it. To be honest I think I bit off a bit more I can chew this time... a 21k word chapter is a bit unwieldy haha. Hopefully it had a somewhat satisfying arc and wasn't too, like, repetitive or circuitous!

I'm going to take a little break from Two Doms for a while. I know where I want the story to go next (Chapter 27 should be another fun one!) but I'm a little burnt out on it after this chunky boy. Instead I'm going to focus on Backup Girl, Don't Feed the Trolls, and hopefully putting out a few more smutty oneshots (along the lines of Sex With Two Women, although the first one I have in mind would be a het story...).

I've been having a lot of fun brainstorming story ideas on my Discord, so if you'd like a sneak peek (or to suggest your own ideas!) come join us there!

As always my schedule is totally up in the air. I can say for sure though that there will not be a new chapter of Two Doms in February, so if that's the main thing you're here for, totally get it if you wanna, y'know, plan accordingly. I'll make sure to post a status update on Scribble Hub when I write the next chapter!

I think that's about all I have to say. Thanks again for the support! Oh and please share your reactions to this chapter in the comments, I'm a FIEND for comments!!!!