Well, what do you expect? She's using iOS 4!

You weren't exactly surprised to see you were on the roof of the school. You weren't exactly surprised to see Tiffany was there too.

But that? Was about it. Everything else was a surprise.

Tiffany seemed to be sitting on the school edge, the ruins of her packed lunch around her. She was in her cheerleading outfit, and it was cum-stained. You realized it was probably the outfit from your epic fuck-fest in her dreams... shit was that really just last night? And in front of her...

In front of her were three floating cell phones, each almost the size of a mall information kiosk screen. One had what looked like her Instagram feed on it, full of lots of emoji and likes and links to vapid videos about makeup. The middle one looked... like she was reading some website? It looked like Livejournal or some shit like that. And the third--

The third was... an old iPhone. Like, from six years ago. Black, with a crack down its screen. And it had a single thing on it. An IM window, with a single text.

JD - well, i dont care if you have a lot of stuff. i care about you.

You stared for a long moment. You took a deep breath. You only had so long with Tiffany before one of you woke up. You had to--

Wait... wait a second...

You remembered Traci, then. Traci and her grandfather clock. Time manipulation was '101 stuff.' And she said that you had technique even if you didn't know how.

You looked around. "How do I adjust the--"

And sitting next to you, all of a sudden, you noticed a scoreboard with time clicking away on it. At the bottom there was a slider. You watched the seconds ticking, and then reached over... and pushed the slider all the way to the other side, right to left.

The seconds slowed... slowed... then almost seemed to stop.

Well all right then.

You walked over. "Hey," you said.

She looked up at you, still crying. Makeup running. "I fucked it all up," she said, hoarsely.

"Nah. It's just one day. And you recovered on social media, right?"

"You're gonna hate me. You're gonna forget all about me."

"No, I'm not. Can I sit down next to you?"

She snuffled. It wasn't attractive. But she nodded.

You sat down next to her, slipping an arm around her. She leaned against you, like the girlfriend you'd asked her to be in yesterday's dream.

"Why do you think I'm gonna forget you?" you asked. You were afraid you knew the answer.

She took a shuddering breath, and nodded to the middle phone. The one with the old website.

You looked at it. The words were largely gibberish -- dreams, right? -- but you got a sense of them. The kind of diary a kid would keep. And you got a feeling you were a part of this diary.

You reached over, scrolling. She whimpered, next to you, but didn't stop you from doing it. Scrolling... scrolling...

You came across a video link. Two kids lying in the grass at night, staring up.

You realize one of them was you. You... from before. Before middle school. The other was a cute tween in shabby clothes and warm brown hair.

Tiffany.

You two were holding hands.

Swallowing, you reached over and pushed 'play.'

"--can't believe you're gonna be gone all summer," Tiffany said.

"I got ****," kid-John said. "It's some kinda big deal. It'll be fine. You'll see."

"You're gonna go and you'll forget all about me," she said. "Pa McCallister says--"

"You just forget anything that old fucker says," Kid-John said. "My dad says he's gonna call Child Protective Services on him. He says you deserve better."

"I don't deserve anything. I have nothing. All the other kids'll have better toys an' clothes. They have phones--"

"You have a phone."

"I have your phone. And I broke it."

"Nah. Screen was already cracked. Don't worry about it."

"I'm just a mooch. Ma Mc-"

"Dad says your ma's just running a scam to cash your foster check."

"Your mom says I'm a whore."

Kid-John snorted. "My mom is a whore. I don't know why Dad stays with her. I mean -- I'm not kidding. She took like a grand from old man Giles and she fucked her up the ass and Dad caught them."

"How d'you know that?"

"Shel an' I saw it. There's a heating grate in Shel's room. You can see down into the living room from it."

"Wow."

"Forget my mom. Forget your foster parents. Just... it's okay, Tif. Really."

"You're gonna forget me. Me and my crappy clothes. If your dad calls Child Protective, either they'll put on a show and get them off their case and whup me bad after, or they'll take me away and I'll never see you or Shel again." She looked like she was gonna cry. "An' all the kids already hate me. I'm ugly and I got no good clothes or toys or--"

"That's stuff. I don't care if you have a lot of stuff. I care about you, Tif. You're my best friend. You're always gonna be my best friend."

"You're going to this weird camp 'cause you're special. I'm not special."

"You're special to me."

Tif closed her eyes. "So are we gonna get maaaarrried?"

"Oh, sure!" Kid-John said, laughing. "We're gonna get married and have like ten kids and I'm gonna be a lawyer -- on the MOON and you're gonna be a high fashion model who's also the PRESIDENT! OF SPACE!"

Tif giggled. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"What'll I do without you all summer?"

Kid-John shrugged. "Survive. What else can we do?"

The video ended. You stared at the screen. Tiffany was trembling, but didn't pull away from where she was nestled against you.

You scrolled a bit more. To another video. This one... of Middle School. That first day.

You'd relived that more than once, and it had been burned into your memory -- the prettiest girl you'd ever seen, but you were too scared to talk to her, and she got snapped up... but this time, this was from her... this was her point of view...

You clicked 'play.'

You saw yourself. A little older. A little scruffier. Puberty wasn't huge amounts of fun. And then the door to the classroom opened and in walked...

...a... like... thirteen year old girl. Her hair was longer than the previous video, and it had some blonde streaks, probably from a home kit. She had somewhat newer clothes because she'd hit a growth spurt. And she had a couple of dents in the front you could charitably call breasts.

You realized that the most beautiful sight of your life... was just another middle school kid. She just happened to hit the 'growth spurt' roulette in time to be the first one to look even slightly like a woman instead of a kid.

You watched kid-John's eyes get wide... saw kid-Tif turn to look at him. Watched him blush, and she giggled--

"Whoa. Hey there."

Tif turned. Another gangly looking kid -- also a bit further along the growth cycle than, say, John -- was standing there. Zeke. "Wow. You're... amazing."

"Wh-- oh my God. Um... you're Zeke Campbell."

Zeke laughed, and looked a bit smug. "Well, maybe. I think I am. I s'pose." Tif blushed hard, giggling. "Hey -- wanna... like... you know. Go to the mall? After... school? Maybe get some cookie dough?"

"Oh..." Her face fell. "Um... my... allowance isn't for a few days--"

"Wha-- oh! No, this..." Zeke shrugged. "Kind of like a date. I'd pay. You know. Date."

Tif shivered. "...really? Me?"

"Of course you. You're... you're the hottest thing in this room!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. At that point? Tiffany wasn't even the cutest girl in class. She just looked like she had tits, sort of.

You blinked, looking at the girl you were holding. She'd become the prettiest girl... the hottest girl in school since then. Sure, a lot of it was vapid and a lot of it wasn't even the real Tiffany Brian... but whatever Zeke did or didn't do? He did make her exactly what he said she was. John had to admit that -- Tif ended up at the top of the social ladder, the absolutely star of more wet dreams than anyone else in school. And now....

...and now John's girlfriend. Damn.

You turned back to watch the video. You saw a montage, then. Tif making friends. Zeke and his plastic getting her clothes. Choices. Liquor. Seven minutes in Heaven. Spin the bottle. Tif in the back seat of Zeke's brother's car. Tif the cheerleader and the video producer....

You realized at this point that you were watching the third phone. The newest looking one... and all this was streaming by on Instagram. The 'new' Tiffany Brian, in all her artificial glory. You looked back at the middle phone--

You saw a picture there... a shot of blonde Tiffany, surrounded by people who were laughing.

It looked like they were laughing at a dorky kid who'd had his books dumped and was tripped.

You realized it was you. And Tiffany wasn't laughing. She looked stricken. She looked...

She looked like she'd just betrayed her best friend.

"...stupid little ugly kid..."

You shivered, looking at the Instagram phone. Next to you, Tiffany shrieked and began shaking. You could see faces behind the scrolling text. All dead-eyed, facing forward. the text moving faster, forming an ASCII face you knew was Tiffany's. "...first thing you did right... cut that useless cock out with his broken-ass phone... your ass should be spangled in diamonds, bitch! No one wants some dumb little poor trash foster kid! Get that green, make that scene, give them what they want! Give them the real Tiffany Brian! No one will EVER want anything ELSE! And why would they? The one kid who gave a shit and you dumped him out of your life and threw him to the fucking dogs! He'll dump you and leave you behind and no one will ever fucking--"

"Shut up!" you snarled to the Inner Demon in the phone. Almost without thinking, you threw a finger forward, stabbing the screen. "Unlike! Thumbs down! Unsubscribe!"

"HEY! YOU -- NO ONE--"

"Shut up!" you snarled again. "You stay away from my girlfriend you fake ass mask. You don't even fucking exist!" You kept hitting the negative buttons, which seemed to do more and more harm to the scrolling text.

"...oh my god John what will they think what will everybody think?"

"I don't give a shit what they think." You kept stabbing with your finger, but turned to look at Tiffany, who you were still holding. "You're my girlfriend and I like the real Tiffany Brian!"

Tiffany shivered, bursting into tears again, but they didn't seem unhappy. You turned to engage the Instagram-Tiff in all her malevolent glory--

But the screen was black.

You looked at the other two screens. The still of Tiffany -- maybe Sophomore Year of high school, having been on hand for some random act of cruelty as perpetuated by the haves against the have-nots. The moment she gave up getting you back. And you realized... she didn't... she wasn't angry at you for forgetting her.

She blamed herself for driving you out.

"Oh Tif," you said. "I always loved you. Even when I didn't know it." You looked at the third phone. The broken old iPhone. The one you'd clearly given to her when she had nothing.

JD - well, i dont care if you have a lot of stuff. i care about you.

Echoing the words of the tween John to the tween Tif. The thing you couldn't remember. Except clearly... part of you could, because that's exactly what you told Tiffany.

You looked at her. Tears were still streaming down her face. "It's okay," she whispered. "I... you offered... you gave... John, you didn't..." She choked. "You didn't chicken out asking me. I turned away and never gave you a chance. And Zeke was so... happy to pay and he said I was pretty and... it... it wasn't all bad. He... he did a lot of nice things for me. Made me feel nice. And... and look at me. I'm..." She cried a bit more. "I'm head fucking cheerleader."

"Yeah," you said. "But I don't care about that. I mean, you want to be head cheerleader? Cool. I'm on your side. But it's not this uniform I love."

So saying, you reached over and hooked the cum-stained sweater, sliding it up and off her body. She had no bra on underneath, because Dream Logic. Her breasts looked perfect, tipped in strawberry.

"...oh God John," she murmured.

You glanced over your shoulder. There was still the rooftop camera. You made it go away. That was getting easier now. You looked back at her. "Get up. Let's get this off you."

She swallowed, standing slowly.

You reached up, and pulled on her skirt... it fell to the roof. You took hold of her uniform panties -- meant to be seen -- and began to pull them down... sliding them off her inch by inch. Her shoes and socks had vanished... leaving her nude in front of you...

"C'mere," you said, pulling the eighteen year old Tiffany back down onto your lap. You were nude, too. Because why wouldn't you be. She settled, eyes glistening and wide. "Here." You took a tissue and wiped off the running makeup... then all the makeup. Symbolic? Why not. You picked up a brush then, and began to brush her hair... "That's it. I like you like this," you murmured, as strands of blonde hair drifted to the roof on either side, replaced with rich, full, brown hair...

You smiled, looking at her. "There. That's who I--"

You froze, your eyes widening.

"What?" Tiffany said, her own eyes snapping wider in alarm. "John, what's wrong?!"

"Nothing..." you murmured. "You're beautiful." But you were looking more closely...

Twice you'd ended up in the house of Traci Bryant. Once you saw her nude. The other time you talked.

Tiffany's hair had wave and texture. Traci's was straight. Tiffany's face was slightly heart-shaped. Traci's was a bit sharper. Tiffany had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Traci had them more along her cheeks. They weren't in any way identical...

...but the similarities...

You'd felt like you recognized Traci the very first time you saw her. And now you knew why. Especially having seen her naked breasts... and comparing them to the identical breasts sitting before you right now.

Traci Bryant. Tiffany Brian.

They were related. No. They were almost certainly sisters. And you had no idea how that was possible.

"...John?"

"I love you, Tiffany," you murmured, and lifted her hips, sliding her closer... and settling her warmth onto your cock. "Are you on birth control?" Having had one near-miss and knowing that all this would have impact in the waking world--

"Zeke made me get an IUD," she whispered.

"Good." You began to move with her, looking in her eyes. The world seeming to get darker... like the sun were going down.

"...oh God John... it's never... never been like this," Tiffany moaned softly, her hips pushing back... her inner muscles gripping... milking...

You laid Tiffany down... not onto the roof but into freshly mown grass. You loved that smell. You remembered....

...it didn't matter what you remembered. You knew this place. This place from the video. This smell. And so did she... you thrust into her from above. Again and again. Not the frantic orgy of the last time, but just the both of you. And yet, completely naked and outdoors in a public park, exactly as Tiffany always dreamed... exhibitionist. She loved being where she could be caught...

...especially right here...

Faster now... hearing her voice grunt and moan with each thrust. Thrusting down into the girl -- the woman -- you'd dreamt about.

"...god please john i waited so long f-for-g..."

"I forgive you," you whispered. "I love you."

And with a keening shriek of pain, loss, despair and finally joy breaking through, Tiffany came... with an intensity even Bella couldn't have matched she climaxed around your cock, arching up and shuddering and clutching you as hard as she could, and you shivered and poured yourself into her....

Tiffany was crying again -- happy tears that turned into rain falling on both of you... washing so much away...

"I love you," you repeated.

"I love you too. Oh God John I love you too."

"Now listen to me. This is important." You kissed behind her ear, ignoring the warm rain. You whispered into her ear, your cock still in her body, knowing that you were influencing her... hypnotizing her... subliminally whatever her. "You know we're dreaming, right?"

"Right," she said. No hesitation. Good.

"I won't remember the dream. You will. So you have to do that, Tiff. You have to remember the dream and believe in the dream, because you're the one who'll remember we're boyfriend/girlfriend when we wake up. You'll have to convince me -- it won't be hard. And ultimately... you're going to have to tell me about this dream, and last night's dream, and the fact that it's all real."

Tiffany looked surprised. "...how do I do that?" she whispered. "John, I can't even tell Leona Porter I hate her with a straight face because I'm so... so..."

"I know. It'll be hard. But you won't be alone. Tiffany?"

"...yeah?"

"It's time to meet Bella. You two have a lot in common."