Overthinking Things.

The alarm blared, waking George from his erratic dream. He had been sleeping with a procession of women he’d met before, each hotter than the last. After fucking one of them, that woman would die in his arms. The final woman was Jordan, except she didn’t die when they finished. Instead, she transformed, mutating into a demonesque monster, with pink skin, red eyes, and long black pinsirs. Then, Jordan stabbed him, and he woke up.

George gasped as he woke, still able to feel a faint sensation along his stomach where the claw had gone in. He panted as he sat up in bed, trying to sort out truth from dream. Finally, his breathing steadied, and he remembered.

He’d slept with Jordan. They’d had sex for hours, rotating through a half a dozen positions over and over again, until he’d literally had to beg her to stop because it was three in the morning and he’d come four times and just couldn’t keep up. Jordan had begrudgingly accepted that their playtime was over for the night, and George had finally, blessedly, been able to go to sleep.

No, he thought suddenly, a chill washing over him. He hadn’t just slept with Jordan. He’d made her have sex with him.

He used that damn app to make her have sex with him. He had stripped away her sexuality, part of what made her her, and made her do something she never would have done normally. All so he could get laid.

Why had he done that? George wanted to throw up at the thought, but he felt dizzy and didn’t trust himself to stand up. He’d had a justification yesterday, right? Some belief he’d clung on to that allowed him to do something so reprehensible to his best friend. What was it?

Oh, right, Jordan had said that she’d always been bisexual, and had always been interested in him. So he thought that, maybe, the app had just slightly changed her, and the effect wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he had **** her to do anything, he’d just convinced her through other means. If she had been completely opposed to the idea of sleeping with him, then changing her stereotype wouldn’t have changed that.

George let out a long sigh in relief, then felt his body immediately tense up again. Was that what really happened though? It made sense, but there were a dozen other explanations he could think of. Maybe the app had changed her memories, so she thought she was a closeted bisexual when she hadn’t been the day before. If that was the case, would he be able to prove it? Did it just change her memories, or did it change history itself, and he was now living in some sort of alternate dimension where Jordan was bisexual.

The alarm blared again, and George flinched, then looked at his phone as he turned the subsequent alarms off. It was five minutes past seven, no wonder he was so delirious, he thought. He’d only gotten around four hours of sleep, maybe less.

He wasn’t in a fit state to determine the morality of his choices, George decided. And he’d be late for work if he tried.

Slowly getting up out of bed, George looked over at the other side of the bed, realizing that he’d probably woken up Jordan with his alarms. She was pretty infamous for sleeping late, since her job started at noon.

Except Jordan wasn’t there. She’d left at some point, but when was that. George felt another flash of fear and anxiety as more terrible ideas flooded his mind. Was she upset with him? Had she realized that he’d done something to her, and that her feelings last night weren’t natural?

No, he was jumping to conclusions again, George thought. He’d deal with this tomorrow, after he’d gotten some sleep. Shower first, then work, then sleep, and finally worrying.

George tried to shower and get dressed quickly, both to make up for getting up late and to keep his thoughts from drifting. After putting on a pair of gray slacks and a white button up shirt (but no tie, he hated those), he stepped out of his room and into the kitchen to make breakfast.

On the counter, there were two plates of food already there. The first had bacon, eggs, and fruit, while the second was empty, but had clearly already been eaten.

Jordan made breakfast for them, he realized. That wasn’t too strange, Jordan did cook at times, though this was different than her usual fare. And, of course, it was seven thirty in the morning, Jordan didn’t wake up that early and she certainly didn’t make breakfast if she was **** to.

Was this part of the swap? George looked around to see if she was still there, then heard her in the other room, near the TV. She was counting up, and George’s jaw dropped when he realized what she was doing.