Online Learning Glitch, Exit: On the Other Foot (Paul)

Oh, fuck!

The Prompt fades from my view. I try to call it back up, but... it doesn't respond. I can't call it up at-will. That means that... the changes I've made have been finalized, even though I haven't finished.

Time unfreezes with a lurch, like a car dropping into gear. The image of Sarah on my screen stabilizes, and I'm left staring at her face, which is now slightly flushed and wearing an expression of... confusion?

"Paul? Are you okay? The feed glitched there for a second." Her voice comes through my headphones, clear as a bell, but it's different. It lacks the professorial calm I'm used to, replaced by something younger, more earnest. She calls me by my first name, not "Mr. Matthews" as she normally would.

My gaze darts to the top of the video call window. The title has changed. It no longer reads "HIST303: Renaissance Art - Prof. Penrose." It now says "Sarah's Stream Review." My stomach drops as my eyes flick to the corner of the screen, where T.D. N1ght's stream is still minimized. The pieces click into place with horrifying clarity. The Prompt didn't just glitch; it cross-contaminated. It tried to make Sarah like T.D., and in my attempt to "fix" it, I only made things worse. I didn't restore the professor; I reforged her.

"Oh. Oh!" A flicker of disappointment crosses Sarah's face as she misinterprets my stunned silence. "Is this about the... changes?" She glances down at her chest, then back at the camera, a blush creeping up her neck that makes her look even younger. "I know it's a bit much, but you said I needed something to stand out! And with my... new assets..." She trails off, her vulnerability so palpable it feels like a physical weight in my gut.

The Prompt seems to have woven a seamless narrative. In this reality: I, the streaming 'expert,' seem to be her friend, or her mentor, even. The only 'change' she acknowledges is her breasts, and even then she thinks these are implants she got at my prompting. Which is... something on its own. I never said any of these things, but she looks at me with such earnest, trusting eyes that the lie feels more real than the truth. The guilt is overwhelming, a sickening churning in my stomach. I've taken a brilliant, professional woman and turned her into this... ambitious girl **** for my approval.

"Right. The changes," I manage to say, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears as I try to guess what she expects me to sound like, "They're... they're working. Very noticeable." I scramble to regain control of the narrative she's living in. "But maybe we should focus on the... material, like you said. The edutainment stuff." It's the only path I can see that doesn't involve shattering her world completely: I can tell she's really excited to be talking about this with me even if I can't quite tell why. The only thing I can do is try and salvage this: I'm not trying to help her become a streamer; I'm trying to restore her professor.

Sarah's face brightens instantly, a grateful relief washing over her. "Of course! Let's get back to it." Her professional demeanor snaps back into place, albeit the professional demeanor of an incredibly gifted student, not an educator. She's clearly more comfortable in an academic mindset, even if the topic is how best to sexualize it. "So, my plan is to start with a deep dive on Botticelli. The 'Birth of Venus' is iconic, and I thought for a top-tier donation, I could, you know..." She gestures vaguely towards her lower body. "...recreate the pose? Art history with a... hands-on demonstration."

She says it with the clinical earnestness of a student presenting a thesis, but the suggestion is so brazen that I can feel my face flush. If she went through with this... she'd have to stand, remove her clothes, and hold her long blonde hair over her pubic region. "I've been practicing my hair techniques for it," she adds, as if that's the most important detail. The guilt is a physical weight in my stomach. I'm responsible for this.

"Look, Sarah," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "That's... very ambitious. But maybe for your first stream, you should try something a little less... complex. Build up to the more... artistic recreations." I'm treading on thin ice here. Any attempt to steer her away might be interpreted as me rejecting her idea, and therefore rejecting her in this reality where I'm supposed to be guiding her.

"Oh! You're right!" She lights up, completely misinterpreting my concern. "I'm... I'm still getting used to my new 'puppies,' I don't want to mess up my big debut." She says, gesturing to her breasts again. "What do you think I should do instead? Just... focus on the top half for now? Or maybe something with my mouth? I've been practicing my... oral presentation skills." She winks, and I swear I can feel my soul leave my body for a second.

"No, Sarah, it's not that," I say, my voice softer now, more reassuring, trying to regain control of this runaway train. "I think you're... very sexy. But that's not the only reason I'm here. I'm here because you're smart. You're passionate. You have a real talent for this stuff. And I don't want to see you lose that in the... noise. T.D. N1ght is... T.D. N1ght. But you're Sarah. You're different. You're special. And I think you can be a star without... without all that. At least, not at first."

A thoughtful expression crosses her face as she processes this. "So... you're saying I should... hold back? At least for now?" she asks, her voice uncertain. "But... will people still watch? Will they still... like me?"

"They will," I say, trying to sound confident, like I know what I'm talking about in this bizarre new world. "Because you're good. You're really good. And you have a unique perspective. You're not just another pretty face, Sarah. You're a mind. And that's what's going to set you apart." I see the hope return to her eyes and continue, "Besides, you don't have to be a 'boring' professor. You can be sexy about it too. Make jokes, be crass, remind the viewers you're a sexy young woman in every way that doesn't literally show it off. Then, when you're ready, and you've practiced... then you can take the next step."

Her eyes light up again, brighter this time. "So... you're saying I should be a tease?" she asks, a sly grin spreading across her face. "I can do that. I can definitely do that. And I'll practice, I promise. For you." She leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh! I have an idea! What if I do a stream on the history of... lingerie? That way, I can talk about something sexy, and show it off, without... you know. Going all the way. It's educational, and it's engaging, and it's... a tease. Just like you said!"

"Is lingerie your passion, though?" I ask, trying to steer her back toward art history. "I thought you wanted to focus on the arts."

"It can be! I'll make it my passion!" she insists with such conviction that I almost believe her. "I'll learn everything there is to know about it. I'll be the best lingerie historian there ever was! So... is that a yes? Do you think that's a good idea? For my first stream?" She looks at me with those hopeful, trusting eyes.

I let out a sigh. She pivoted right back to showing herself off, albeit not as ****. Doing a purely professional stream seems to be too hard of a sell for her, given what changing T.D. has done to the stream. "Alright. Let's do it," I agree reluctantly. "And see if that beautiful, creative mind of yours can find a way to link the two subjects." I add, trying to salvage something from this mess and emphasize the part of her I think is more important than her admittedly-attractive body. And the feelings her willingness to display it gives me.

Her face lights up. "Really? You'd do that for me? Oh, Paul, thank you! Thank you so much!" She leans forward, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her shirt. I think she's about to kiss the camera, but she stops herself, her cheeks flushing. "You're the best mentor a girl could ask for. I won't let you down. I promise." She straightens up, her expression serious again. "I'll do my research. I'll make a presentation. I'll practice. And when I'm ready, I'll call you. And you can be my first viewer. My first... fan."

"Is that... is that okay?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Her head is tilted, giving me a hopeful side-eye that feels both calculated and completely genuine.

"Yeah, Sarah," I say, my voice a little rough. "That's okay." I end the call before she can say anything else, my heart pounding in my chest. I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. I feel like I've just made a deal with the devil, and I'm not sure who's going to come out on top. The minimized T.D. stream winks at me from the corner of my monitor. This is all because of that first change, isn't it? Because reality adjusted to make it so T.D's brand of streaming was some kind of 'stereotypical feminine ideal' for girls.

I need to find a way to fix this, to make things right. But what can I do? The only tool I have is this bizarre power, and using it again just feels like digging a deeper hole. Still... maybe if I found a target that was already problematic? Someone who deserved a little... reality editing? The thought is both tempting and terrifying. Maybe if I could change the source of this new 'ideal'... T.D. herself? It's a risk, but it might be the only way to restore some balance to this new world I've created.

With a deep breath, I click on the minimized stream, expanding T.D. N1ght back to full screen. She's still at it, her soft moans filling my headphones as she plays her game, one hand on her controller and the other between her legs. As she tilts her head and smiles into the camera, no glitch appears. It hasn't on any of her previous streams, so why would it now? But... it's the only option I have right now. And... well, I feel less guilty about her than Sarah, even though it's causing so many problems indirectly. So... it's certainly a way to let off some steam if nothing else.

I definitely won't keep her open in another tab again though. Damn it... No. No, there's no mood for it.

Closing the tab, I step over to my bed and roll onto the covers as I rub my forehead. I can try to gamble with destiny later, right now I just... I need to decompress. Properly.

[AN: So little time to do the things you want to do, when you find them...♫ Especially when the words don't flow, they get stuck, don't wanna go, and you can't **** it.♫ Think you've got it, but you don't, and it's been weeks...♫ So you drop more at once, and just hope, it was worth it. ]