Two Doms

It took me a while to find Kermit's studio, and a while longer to actually summon the courage to go inside. I hesitated by the door for ten minutes, fidgeting with my satchel strap.

Last night I was so confident about our plan – really my plan, even if the original idea was Nick’s – but now I was faced with the reality. Anything could be happening in that studio! Father had always warned me about artists, and Kermit Tsu seemed even more strange and dangerous than he had suggested. People could be doing drugs in there, or having sex, or, or… or doing communism. I wasn't sure exactly how that would work but it was still a bit spooky. 

But I was going to be brave. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I was not just a sheltered little rich kid. I was independent! I did my own laundry! I sucked dick! And I was sure there wouldnt actually be any communism happening inside. I straightened my shoulders and walked inside. 

The studio was beautiful. Like most of the buildings on campus, it was shabbier than I was used to. The doorframe was chipped, the concrete floor was scuffed and paint spattered, there was a sharp smell of methylated spirits in the air. I wrinkled my nose. Actually, the studio wasn't beautiful. The studio was gross. But the people were beautiful.

Okay the people weren't that beautiful either. I don't know! They were college students like me, but they seemed… alternative. There was a girl with a shaved head, and another girl who also had a shaved head. They were working on a painting together, a beautiful oil painting of a renaissance noblewoman. The Renaissance lady had a shaved head too.

I shivered. My father would freak out if he could see this. I grinned and walked deeper into the studio, looking for Kermit Tsu.

“Hey, short kid!” someone called out. I turned and saw a bearded man bending a tangle of wires into some strange shape. “Can you look angry for me?”

“Oh!” I said. Was this art? I gave him my best scowl.

He shook his head, “Nah, angrier than that.”

I scowled harder.

“Not bigger, angrier.”

I thought about it for a moment. What made me angry? I pictured Nick slamming the door, stomping around our room in his dirty shoes…

“Perfect!” said the bearded man. He gave his wires a final twist, “Check this out.”

He spun his creation around to face me. I couldn't tell what it was meant to be (maybe a tornado with three long legs?) but something about it really did feel angry.

“Wow!” I said, “How did you do that?” 

He winked, “Just needed the right muse.”

I blushed, and opened my mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a shrill voice calling out, “Little Dom!”

My shoulders sagged. Really? That stupid nickname had made it here?

Miel bustled over, arms full of rolled-up canvases, “Kermit said you were coming by! He said that you're the reason his hearing got postponed? That's so great, Little Dom! Genuinely, thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” I muttered.

“The world needs more people like you, who are willing to use their privilege to enact social justice,” Miel gushed, “Like, eat the rich, obviously, of course. But in the meantime, the rich should at least feed us.”

“Um,” I said. This was sounding worryingly close to communism after all. “Is Kermit here?”

“Yes,” Miel sighed happily, “He's working on his latest masterpiece right over the— oh, shit. Oh, fucking shit.”

She scrambled to catch the armful of canvases that had rolled across the floor when she pointed to Kermit. I helped her gather them up. God, that girl was hopeless. 

Miel pointed me to a raised platform at the back of the room, like a stage overlooking the rest of the open studio. The stage was backed by a large, grimy window, letting in streaks of dirty sunlight. From this angle it was a little blinding, but I could see there was someone up there, chipping away at a large marble sculpture. 

“Kermit?” I called out, “Is that you?”

“As much as anyone can be,” he drawled.

With the sun streaming in behind him, and the sculpture blocking my view, I couldn't actually see him until I climbed up onto the stage myself. I finally set eyes on him and gasped.

He was wearing a dress!

“You're wearing a dress!” I gasped.

Kermit turned to me, chisel in hand, and smirked.

“Oh, am I?” he said, “Guess I didn't notice.”

I gaped silently. I just couldn't look away from his dress. Not only was it a dress, it was pink! It looked almost like a prom dress, with puffy shoulders and a long skirt that reached the ground, but this dress was definitely not fit for prom. This was clearly not the first time Kermit had worn it. It was dusty with marble dust, but I also saw splatters of paint, charcoal, and other stains I couldn't recognise but hoped were from art supplies. The skirt was frayed and ragged from dragging on the floor and being trodden on by Kermit's heavy boots. But it was still a pink prom dress, one of the most feminine items of clothing imaginable.

Only… it didn't look that feminine when Kermit wore it. The bodice stretched tight over his toned chest, and his tattoos poured out from the puffy sleeves. He went back to chiselling, moving his strong arms in firm, confident strikes. His dark eyes narrowed and he took a step back, running a hand through his messy mohawk. 

He didn't look like a pervert or a freak. He looked like a rebel. He looked cool. He looked, oh my god, actually pretty hot.

“Um,” I stammered, trying to control my racing heart, “What are you making?”

“I'm not making anything,” Kermit said wisely, “The art’s already in the marble. I’m just trying to let it out.”

“Oh, wow,” I breathed, “So… what's the art in the marble?*

“Big iPhone,” said Kermit.

I blinked, “Huh?”

Kermit set down his chisel and lifted his skirt, “Take a look.”

I blushed furiously. This was certainly not the direction I thought today was gonna take. Still though, I leaned forward and looked where Kermit was pointing. There on his thigh was a fresh tattoo, and sure enough, it was a big iPhone.

“There's a million sculptures of gods and goddesses, great soldiers, political figures,” said Kermit, “But what about a sculpture of our modern god?”

“The iPhone?” I asked.

“Exactly.”

“And… you liked this idea so much you got a tattoo?” I said. My attraction to Kermit was quickly waning. I may not be an artist but even to me this felt pretty puerile. I had to remind myself that Kermit was just a pretentious college artist, selfishly hogging the room that was supposed to keep Nick out of my hair. 

“I did it myself,” Kermit dropped his skirt and showed me his arms. I could make out some of his tattoos now, a mix of abstract shapes and intricate tableaus. I saw Ronald McDonald holding a gun. “Any project I make, I give myself a tattoo first.”

“Oh my god,” I gasped. Did that mean somewhere on his body there was a picture of a man fucking a goat? “Isn't that a huge commitment? Having it on your body for the rest of your life?”

Kermit shrugged, “If I wouldn't want it on my body, why would I want it on my legacy?”

“But…” I looked back and forth from his tattoos to the marble, “...big iPhone?”

Kermit smirked, “This is my major work for Junior year. I'm giving this school the art it deserves. They paid for the marble, and they're getting big iPhone.”

“Oh!” I gasped.

Lots of my father's office buildings had sculptures in the lobby. I wondered how many of them had been made sarcastically. There was one statue of Grandfather that I had always thought looked a little smug.

“They’re really gonna let you do that?” I said, “You don’t think they’ll suspect something’s up?”

Kermit gave me a pitying look.

“Little Dom,” he said, “It’s big iPhone.”

I sat and watched Kermit for the next three hours. The time was part of it, he explained. The fact that he had spent hours of work to give the university something that wasn't worth a second’s thought. I tried to dig for dirt a little, but I didn't have much luck. Kermit said he didn't drink or smoke – he didn't want to cloud his mind. I knew his big iPhone was subversive, but I wasn't sure how I could explain how in a way that made sense. So I just sat and watched him. Miel kept stopping by to do the same thing, before Kermit would notice her and she would blush and scurry off. He didn't seem self-conscious being watched, but after a while he asked if I had any of my own art to work on.

“I'm not really an artist,” I said, “Um. I'm just a business major.”

“Everyone’s an artist,” said Kermit, “Your mind is your gallery. The things you choose to notice are the pieces in your collection.”

“...okay.”

“Your eyes are your paintbrush. Your ears are your paint.*

He seemed confident but I wasn't sure that metaphor totally tracked. 

“Just think about it,” said Kermit, “Can you think about anything that's caught your eye recently? Stuff another artist might have overlooked?”

“Um…” I racked my brain, but I couldn't think of anything. Just stupid stuff, “I guess the way light filters through the oak leaves? The way water beads on your skin. The way the weight of your arm carries through your shoulders…”

I blushed. I sounded like a complete psycho. Art was so stupid. Of course trying to talk about it would make me sound insane. This was the whole reason I went into business in the first place. It was something actually important. Something my father would be proud of. 

Kermit grinned and tossed me a sketchbook.

“If you've got something in you, let it out,” he said, “The world needs more beauty.”

***

“If you’ve got something in you, let it out,” I breathed.

I eyed myself warily in the mirror and took another sip of beer. 

I wrinkled my nose. Ugh. Beer was so yucky. Or at least, this beer was. I wasn’t totally new to alcohol. Twenty-one might be the legal drinking age in America, but Father always let me drink wine when we summered in France. Maybe I just liked wine more than beer. But also, Father would order only the finest of fine wines. Somehow I figured Lucy didn’t have the same standards for the beer she provided to underage college kids. 

But I needed some courage if I was gonna actually do this. 

I looked at myself in the mirror again. I was practically naked, and even that was sort of a thrill. I was wearing undies, but they were girl undies, panties and a camisole that looked enough like a regular singlet that I could totally talk it off if Nick barged in. But they were still girl clothes. I turned side to side, checking out my long legs and my smooth little butt and grinned. I hadn’t had a haircut since I started college and I almost had a kind of shaggy messy bob going on. God, was the beer getting to my head or did I actually look kinda cute?

I took another sip of beer and looked at my sketchbook again. Even alone in my dorm room, it made me nervous.

I wasn’t sure what to draw while Kermit was working, so I had decided to just draw him. It was hard. I really wasn’t much of an artist, and he kept moving around the sculpture, so I couldn’t really get a good picture. Instead I just tried to capture the shapes, the taut cables of his arms, the arcing motion of his hammer, the flowing fabric of his dress. The end result was messy and scribbly and if you showed it to someone they probably wouldn’t even know what it was. But I had made it, all by myself. At the bottom of the page, I had written the world needs more beauty, and then Miel had walked up and asked to see it and I had shrieked and slammed the book shut. 

At the end of each month, I sent a copy of my assignments back to my father’s assistant so he could check in on how I was doing. I would not be sending him this drawing. 

I closed my sketchbook and knelt down to hide it in my bottom drawer. I didn’t really want Nick seeing it either. I could try to explain that it was all part of our plan to gather evidence to get Kermit kicked out, but Nick had a way of looking at me sometimes where I felt like he could see right through me. I just really didn’t want to have a whole confrontation about it. 

I shifted some clothes aside to make room for the sketchbook, then took a deep breath, and pulled out the other thing I had hidden away. 

Besides my pajamas and underwear, I hadn’t really had a chance to try on any of the women’s clothing I had ordered online. It was all still there though, buried in my drawer, waiting for Nick to buzz off and give me some space to experiment. But seeing Kermit in that dress had opened a world of possibilities. 

He wasn’t a pervert. He was cool and respected, even if he was also pretty annoying. And he wasn’t even trans, I was pretty sure! He was just a man who wore a dress sometimes, and it wasn’t even a big deal. It was artistic, and political, and anti-authoritarian. It might even be praxis!

If he could do it, why couldn’t I? I mean, I was meant to be infiltrating his studio, wasn’t I? So it actually made a lot of sense for me to try wearing a dress. And I might not even like it, anyway! So it definitely didn’t mean I was trans, and it definitely, definitely didn’t mean I was a pervert. And my dick being a little hard meant nothing! It got hard the first time I tried on panties too, and now that they were just normal clothes it didn’t do that anymore. Once I was used to wearing a dress, it wouldn’t feel kinky or weird at all.

My heart fluttered a bit at the thought of wearing a dress being normal. God, imagine. Imagine being able to walk around wearing a dress, and you didn’t have to worry about being caught, or people thinking you were weird, you just got to feel pretty and happy and…

Well, the first step was trying it on. 

I unfolded my dress and nervously slid it over my head. 

It took a moment to find the straps, and make sure it was around the right way, and then free the fabric that got bunched up around my tummy. There was a little half-slip sewn into the skirt, which was a little confusing at first, but I eventually figured it out. I smiled. A little slip under my skirt. Just like in the secret stories I read. I just needed a petticoat and a crinoline…

My smile dropped. This was not a big fancy princess dress, or a… my stomach curled… it was not a sissy dress. It was just a normal dress, like normal girls wear. And normal guys, too! I could totally wear this dress and be a normal guy. I bit my lip and made sure I was tucked back. This wasn’t a fetish. It was just new. I smoothed down my skirt with trembling hands and turned to the mirror, heart pounding in anticipation of what I could see.

I saw a boy in a dress.

I let out a slow, shaky breath. My heart was still racing, but I didn’t feel nervous now. I felt giddy.

I saw a boy in a dress, and he looked cute! He looked cute, and smiley, and normal! 

The dress fit me, the straps clung nicely to my too-broad shoulders, and the skirt flared out around my too-narrow hips, and, oh my god, I wasn’t bursting into flames, and I didn’t look like Buffalo Bill, and the navy blue fabric looked really nice against my pale skin. I laughed and spun around, watching my skirt twirl out, like in the secret stories, and my dark hair danced around my smiling face. It really was just clothing, but it looked really good, if I thought so myself. It helped that I had picked a high-quality boutique brand, not some fast-fashion garbage. The floaty, knee-length sundress had looked good on the model online, and it looked just as good as me, even if I didn’t have anything like her body. I picked up my beer and took a thoughtful sip. 

I didn’t look like a girl. Duh. That was fine. I didn’t even want to look like a girl, right? That wasn’t the goal. I just wanted to try on a dress and see how it felt. And it felt really good! I mean, it would definitely be nice to look like a girl, but this was still a really good outcome. I felt so pretty. I was such a pretty little twink. No wonder Nick always wanted me to blow him. I smirked as I finished my beer and dropped the bottle in the trash. 

Okay, the experiment was a success. I could change back to my regular clothes. But… why rush? A dress was regular clothes too. I had proven that now. I could just keep it on and work on my accounting homework. I frowned. I didn’t really want to do that. What I would rather do is go out and show people how pretty I looked. But that was… that was a step too far. I liked how the dress made me feel, but I wasn’t ready for other people to see me like this. Not everyone was as cool as the artists at Kermit’s studio. Ugh. I sighed and started to lift my dress. I could already feel the way they would look at me, the horrible expressions on their faces. Disgusted. Hateful. Pitying. I got enough of that from Nick.

I stopped.

I did get a lot of that from Nick. He was always giving me some shitty look, or some nasty comment. But it didn’t hurt coming from Nick, because Nick was stupid. Nick’s opinion couldn’t hurt me.

And… Nick had been uncharacteristically cool about me shaving my legs. Nick said he didn’t care if I was gay. More importantly, I had dirt on Nick. If Nick went around telling people I was a sissy, I could tell people, well, he didn’t mind that I was a sissy when he let me jerk him off.

I grinned wickedly to myself and let my dress drop back around my thighs. I started some music on my phone, and helped myself to another beer as I waited for Nick to come home. 

***

I heard Nick stomping down the hall from a mile away. So loud. His muffled voice boomed through the door and I felt a momentary panic. Was he bringing someone else home? I wasn’t prepared for that! But before I could run for the bathroom I heard him say something else, and the clap of two guys doing that cool-guy-high-five-hug thing, and my heart settled. I still felt a bit fluttery in my tummy. What was Nick going to say when he saw me? Not that I cared or anything, but… Wait, what was I gonna say? Should I explain the dress right away? Should I just play it cool? The nerves came bubbling back. What should I say?

Nick entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Don’t slam the door!” I snapped.

Nick kicked off his shoes and turned to say something snarky, but stopped dead when he saw me. I shifted uncomfortably in my perch on the edge of the desk. I was scared of what he was going to say. But was I afraid that he was going to be mean? Or that he was going to be nice?

His dark gaze swept down my body, taking in my bare shoulders, the low neckline exposing my chest, my pale thighs peeking out the bottom of my skirt. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the bottle in my hand. 

“That’s my beer,” he said slowly, “You can’t just take other people’s shit without asking.”

I felt an immense wave of relief, which quickly turned into anger. Thank god, he was acting like everything was normal. How dare he do that!

“It’s not your beer,” I said, “Lucy gave it to you to make up for the room thing. And I don’t know if you noticed, but the room thing also affects me.”

“You didn’t even want any,” he protested, “When she offered you just got mad and left. You can’t act like it was yours all along.”

“Ugh, fine!” I said, “I’ll pay you back for it. Obviously.”

“It’s not about… whatever,” he said, “Are there any left?”

“Yeah, I only had, like, two,” I said. I shrugged towards the six-pack, sitting on the desk by my side. My phone kept piping soft music, filling up the room.

Nick nodded and walked past me. He helped himself to a beer and I looked around, trying to remember where I left the bottle opener. There was no need, though. Nick wedged the bottle into the thumb of his prosthetic hand and cracked it open. The lid flew up into the air and I caught it. 

“Nice,” Nick smirked. 

I blushed stupidly. The bottle cap was cold in my hand, a little slick from condensation. I got up to toss it in the bin, but my leg had fallen asleep. I let out a cry as it buckled beneath me, but Nick darted forward and caught me. 

We stood there for a few moments, while I tried to regain feeling in my buzzing leg. Woof. My head was buzzing too, from the alcohol and all my nerves. Nick’s body felt nice, firm and warm and solid. His arms were wrapped around me but he wasn’t actually holding on. His left hand was holding his beer, and his right hand was rubber and plastic. I still had the bottle cap clenched in my hot, sweaty hand, but my fist was pressed against Nick’s chest. I could feel his taut muscles under his shirt. For some reason, I wanted to stroke them. But my hand was full.

So I let go.

The bottle cap dropped to the floor. I would have to pick it up later, we didn’t have a maid. I traced my hand slowly down Nick’s body. His t-shirt was so soft, threadbare and worn. I could feel every detail of his lithe body as I felt him up through the thin fabric. Nick set down his beer on the desk and ran his hand down my back, stopping to squeeze my ass through my dress.

I still had my beer in my other hand, and I raised it slowly to my mouth, making eye contact with Nick the whole time. I ran my tongue gently around the rim, then took a slow sip. The beer was foamy and bitter, but maybe not so bad after all. Nick’s adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he watched me drink. My other hand snuck up under his shirt, tracing softly over his abs. I took my mouth off the bottle and lifted it to his lips. He parted them willingly and I raised it higher so he could drink. He did, then slowly exhaled. I put the bottle on the desk beside his, and found my hand was conveniently waist-high against Nick. It was only natural to reach out and squeeze the bulge in his pants, so I did it. He was rock hard. 

“I’m wearing a dress,” I said, gently pulling at his cock. I tugged down his pants and boxers so I could set it free. 

“Yeah,” Nick breathed. He followed suit, slipping his hand up under my dress to cup my soft cheek.

“Men can wear dresses, you know,” I said, “Even straight men.”

I stroked his cock, up and down. It felt so good with nothing in the way. So warm...

“Sure,” said Nick. 

“It’s like a political statement,” I said. 

“Okay,” said Nick. 

I released his cock and then ran my hand over it again, pressing it firmly up against his tummy. I let go and batted it gently it side to side, using the front of my fingers then the back, giggling as it sprang back every time. Nick whined and squeezed my ass harder.

“Fuck, Nick,” he hissed, “Are you just gonna play with it?”

I giggled, “Maybe. Maybe it is just a toy for me to play with.”

“What?” said Nick.

I looked up at him cheekily, “Just cause I touched it doesn’t mean I have to suck on it. Maybe I just want to play with it. Maybe straight guys can do that too.”

I was just teasing him at this point. I was almost one hundred percent sure I wasn't actually straight, although seeing as I had never even kissed a girl it was hard to know for certain. Still, the evidence was definitely mounting up. 

Nick’s eyes darted back and forth, from my face to my little hand teasing at his thick cock. He looked confused.

“Uh,” he said, “I guess?”

“Or maybe I will suck it,” I said, “I don’t know. You didn’t tell me what you think about my dress.”

I cupped his balls in my hands and gave them the oh-so-softest squeeze.

“I fucking love it,” Nick gasped, “It’s beautiful. It looks fucking great. It’s not gay at all that you’re wearing it right now.”

“Good boy,” I beamed, “Okay. On the couch.”

Nick wriggled out of his pants and sat back on the couch, up at me with eager excitement. I giggled and took my time finishing the rest of my beer. 

“Such a brat,” Nick scoffed, “Making me wait.”

I set my beer down with a smirk, then cracked my neck, like an athlete preparing for a race, and kneeled down before him.

“That’s it,” Nick growled, “Suck my big dick.”

I rolled my eyes but wrapped my hands around his shaft and licked the tip obligingly, lapping up his salty precum. He could spout his dumb macho guy bullshit if he wanted to. I was in a good mood tonight. 

“You like that, you spoiled little brat?” said Nick.

“Mhm!” I nodded enthusiastically, bobbing my head on his dick in the process. I rolled my eyes sarcastically and popped it out of my lips, “Sooo yummy!”

“Just shut up and suck it, man,” Nick muttered. 

I giggled and returned to my task, slurping away on his hard cock. It felt so nice, even if it unfortunately meant I was pleasuring him. I really liked sucking dick. I had fantasized about it for so long, and honestly, it totally lived up to the hype. I liked feeling in control. I liked feeling sexy. I liked the challenge of trying to get it all the way in.

“Fuuuuck,” Nick hissed, “Fucking take it.”

Even halfway in was pretty good. Nick kept grunting and growling his stupid little comments, but I tuned them out. I couldn’t believe I was wearing a dress! I felt so pretty, and judging by the little spurts of precum jetting into my mouth, Nick agreed. I was glad he hadn’t said anything weird. He was being very well-behaved tonight. 

I lifted my mouth off his cock and Nick let out a frustrated groan. I licked away at the shaft until he got tired of waiting and grabbed my hair. I flashed him a warning look, then shrugged and let him pull me back onto his dick.

Wearing the dress was a really promising start. True, I didn’t look like a girl. But there was a lot more I could try that might help! I could get a better haircut, I could wear makeup, I could even – my heart quickened a bit – wear a bra. I could probably find a bra that fit me, right? If I got, like, a super small AA cup? And if it looked silly, I could try stuffing it, or wearing breast forms. I bet Nick would like that, dirty dog that he was. I had seen him sneaking surreptitious peeks down Miel’s top. He thought he was subtle, but hello, girls noticed. And me too, also. 

Yes, Nick would definitely like it if I had boobs. I could tease him all the time. I mean, obviously it would be nothing compared to having real boobs, but… I pushed the thought down before it bummed me out. Even without boobs, I could still tease him. He was clearly very into my legs, and my ass. Maybe I could lounge around our dorm in slutty little skirts and thigh highs, the same way he lounged around with his shirt off. See how he liked it. Stupid jerk. I grinned as I sucked away at his dick. That would be a good revenge.

Nick gasped something and tugged at my hair, but I ignored him.

And, sex stuff aside, this opened so many new doors for how I could dress! If Nick was fine with me wearing a dress, I could finally buy those cute PJs I saw at the mall. Or something higher quality online. Oh my god, I could actually buy something even cuter. I could forget about pajama pants entirely. I imagined myself wearing a chemise and a robe, doing my makeup all pretty in the mirror while Nick went crazy waiting outside the bathroom. And I could wear leggings and rompers and all kinds of other stuff, stuff that wasn’t even sexy, that just looked nicer and cooler and better than boy clothes. Maybe not out in public, not at first, but I could try wearing stuff to the studio and see how the artists reacted. I hadn’t spoken to them much, but they all seemed really nice and understanding.

Nick tugged frantically at my hair again, yapping away about god knows what. 

And once Kermit was gone, I would have the room all to myself, and I could do whatever the hell I wan–

Nick came hard, blasting thick ropes of cum right into the back of my throat. 

“Gahh!” I pulled away, coughing and spluttering up cum, “Ugh! Nick! What the fuck!”

“I warned you!” said Nick, “I told you like five times I was gonna cum! You wouldn’t let go of my dick!” 

“Ewww!” I whined, “I can’t believe you just did that! I wasn’t finished sucking it yet!”

‘“How the fuck was I meant to hold it in?” Nick protested, “You kept doing that stupid thing with your tongue!” 

“Ugh, whatever,” I said. I twisted side to side, checking my dress, “Did any of it get on me?”

“Uh, let me see,” said Nick. I stood up and he inspected me closely, “Nah, you’re good. Some got on the fucking carpet though.”

“Well, that’s a Nick job,” I said, “I’m not sucking your dick and cleaning up the mess.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t hear me,” Nick said in awe. He settled back on the couch, looking smug, “I guess my cock put you in a trance, huh?”

I scoffed, “Sure, buddy. Sure.”

“Well, what was it then?” Nick said.

I shrugged, smiling to myself, “I was just thinking about stuff.”

Nick frowned, “What stuff?”

I sighed and turned on my heel, flouncing off for the bathroom. I stopped and looked back at Nick with a smile.

“All the beauty in the world,” I said. 

Nick scowled, “What the fuck?”