Tiffany Brian, Female, Dream Partner is Cousin, Dominant Switch

A blue light bathed Tiffany Brian's face in the nighttime darkness, illuminating her wry smile.

Really? This had to be one of the stupidest pranks she had ever seen. She supposed Scarlett could be behind it. That bitch would probably think it was funny to rub salt in Tiffany's relationship wounds.

Not that she would ever know the reason there was a wound in the first place.

Tiffany sighed and moved the mouse, planning to delete the email for the umpteenth time. She almost wished she hadn't finally caved and read the damn thing. At best it was a somewhat mean-spirited but stupid prank, and at worst it was the weirdest scam she had ever seen. Or maybe those best and worst cases should be flipped. Would it be better to have an idiot trying to scam her that somehow knew her email, or to have friends that would send her something like this. Tiffany didn't exactly know.

What did the sender take her for? Some fucking idiotic lovesick teen?

Was she supposed to fall for this bullshit, to actually believe even for one goddamn fucking SECOND that this shit was anywhere close to real, that it would somehow match her up with a man from another universe? YEAH RIGHT, fuck that noise, and FUCK whoever sent this. Skulls are gonna fucking ROLL when she finds out whose heads she needs to take.

Whoa, o-kay there. Maybe take a deep breath, it's not like anyone knew why her love life was as stagnant as twenty year old, untouched pool water. She knew she was letting... other things influence her thoughts on this email.

This fucking email.

She sighed, realizing that the long gym shorts she used for pajamas were bunched up in her fists. After relaxing her hands, she looked back at the email, biting her lip.

There really was no reason to respond... right?

A sense of fatigue poured over Tiffany. She wanted to curl up in a ball, to cry dry tears, to SCREAM with dead vocal cords, but she just stared at her screen, drying out her aching eyeballs.

Five years. Five FUCKING years and she couldn't get that asshole out of her head. She was just done, so fucking done with it.

Honestly, if this was a scam, she didn't even care. The sender could have a good old laugh at her expense, and she'd get to see their next moves. It might be fun in the end. Maybe it would even let her act out some of her darker desires, let them into the open without actually exposing her, help her finally move on.

She doubted it, though.

On the other hand, this could be a prank. A dumb, stupid prank. There was so little upside to responding, and so much downside. So much that could come crashing around her.

If this went to a friend, or her fucking mom, or him, she'd be ruined. That'd be it for her, a girl brought to the looney bin and a slew of psychologists for life just because she couldn't refrain from responding to the dumbest email she had ever laid her tired eyes on.

Was she really that lonely, that to air it all out there?

Leaning back and closing her eyes, Tiffany considered her options. Her fingers rhythmically tapped on her desk in the silence. She knew her mind was already made up. She needed this, as dumb as it was.

Maybe it really would be cathartic. It's not like anything could ever happen. Worst comes to worst, she just plays it all off like a joke, as if she wanted to lure her tormentors out as fast as possible with a juicy response. Perhaps the sender, scammer, friend, or otherwise, would even understand, or take pity on her. Help her out, somehow.

God, that's fucking pathetic.

Still, Tiffany felt the need to at least write the response, even if she didn't send it. Just to see it on paper. Well, on a screen, anyway. To satisfy her own morbid curiosity. It might be fun to see what happens.

Pretending that will be case certainly makes it feel nicer, for a moment. If it weren't all so depressing she might have even gotten over the lump of despair forming in her chest.

Finally, Tiffany sat forward. She absentmindedly cracked her knuckles, then started to fill out the form.

Might as well play along.

The form simply asked for her name, gender, ideal partner, and... wait.

Fetish?

Tiffany was pretty sure that her friends wouldn't ask for that, at least. Her mom certainly wouldn't. She ran over the people she knew in her mind, filtering them out, trying to play "find the sadistic pervert", but she was drawing a blank. Maybe it was just sadism, or just perversion? This didn't exactly have to be anything but a dark prank, but it also didn't have to be anything but a pervert fishing for some... material.

Oh, what the hell. Might as well do it and hit the sack. Thinking about this shit is a problem for the Tiffany of tomorrow.

With that, Tiffany dove into the form.

Name: Tiffany Brian

Sex: Female

Description of Ideal Partner:

Hmm. God. Could she really go through with this? And should she make any changes? Might as well, both for the sake of fun and accuracy. If this was gonna help, she wanted to at least do it right. If it wasn't, then why not have some fun by coming up with new daydream material? It could even throw people off the scent, if she makes it diverse enough to be funny or something! Well, probably not, but she'd like to think so.

Tiffany took a deep breath, calming her nerves. She didn't hear her mom up and about, which made sense given the fact that she typically slept like a log and it was well past midnight. After thinking for a moment, she started to type.

Description of Ideal Partner: Someone exactly like my cousin, John Doe.

Oh fuck, oh god, was she really doing this. Tiffany ran a shaking hand through her hair, bit her lip, and powered on.

Description of Ideal Partner: Someone almost exactly like my cousin, John Doe. He takes care of himself a little better than my cousin, and is more in touch with his emotions and able to express them. He has a softer side, and is very responsible. He likes me as a girlfriend, enjoys my company, and we are able to banter and have a good time. Romantic dates come easily and often with him, and he's very attracted to me.

Tiffany paused for a moment, twirling her hair around her index finger. She smiled, then added a few new lines.

Although John is willing to engage in rough and tumble activities, and to accept my arm wrestling and sporting challenges, he only kind of stands a chance. He's somewhat strong and athletic, much like my John, but unpracticed and unsure.

She chuckled at that, then moved her cursor down to the fetish section. She rolled her eyes, steeled herself, and started typing.

Favorite Personal Fetish: Being a switch. Although dominant in the bedroom most of the time, my partner and I occasionally switch, and I become the submissive. Vanilla sex is great, and appreciated, but a slightly more intense experience now and again wouldn't go unappreciated.

Tiffany reread the email. Seeing it laid out before her made her feel worse, if anything. Certainly not better. Fuck she was pathetic, pining away after someone who was a good enough human being to not lust after his own goddamn cousin.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. What the fuck, maybe it will actually be interesting to see a response, if it's from scammers. She wondered if they'd even bother or just laugh at the freak. If it was her friends, then maybe they'd get a good laugh out of it, provided she could actually convince them she was messing around. Obviously the email couldn't be real, so it's not like they could possibly expect she'd take it seriously.

With her brain shutting down from standard fatigue combined with the fatigue that only comes after intense, unadulterated emotional experiences, she just hit send and jumped from her chair to her bed.

By the time her head hit the pillow and she tossed the covers over her body, she was already falling asleep.

---

John Doe sat in front of his computer and idly pulled on his low-cut pajama top, smoothing out some bunched-up fabric. His hands felt awkward on the keyboard. He supposed that made sense. It's not like he could type all that well, let alone use the computer proficiently.

Opening emails though, that he could do. Usually. Tonight he was having a weird issue. Typically, his emails were only from his college. They were standard messages about events or his major, or invitations to their Men in the Workplace Workshops. Yeah, like those were gonna do anything.

Well, he hoped they helped someone, at least. He certainly got nothing out of the one his friend him to attend.

He looked at his emails, brow furrowed. Was this one of those spam things? He wasn't sure. It wasn't from the school, and didn't seem to be from any of his friends.

Cindy and Chris were both into this computer stuff, maybe they sent it? John was pretty sure you could have more than one email address, so that could be it.

It seemed to be in his... inbox. The other messages were all the standard stuff from his school. He shrugged, and opened the email.

What?

He reread it, from top to bottom. Okay, this was stupid. Even with his complete lack of experience, John knew that this was not how scams worked. Good scams, anyway.

Why would anyone send him this? What could they get out of it?

Well, he didn't have a clue. It didn't seem like replying to this could give the sender any information, and clicking random links certainly wouldn't give them access to anything. That'd be some crazy tech wizardry, that's for sure.

After a while, John just reread the email for the third time. The claim that he would never find love. That hurt, but he knew it was true.

How could anyone love someone who only had a thing for their cousin of all people???

He ran his fingers through his hair. Maybe it would be fun to respond to this, to get it out of his system. It sure as hell beat those dating apps. What was he supposed to say, something like: Looking for love, as long as you're family!

Yeah, that was never going to happen.

Things had just gotten out of hand. He was certain that Tiffany didn't harbor any feelings for him. How could she? He had only discovered his own feelings for her after moving out for college. She was his first crush, but the more he got to know her, the more he knew he wasn't moving on.

Even if he tried, how could he live with keeping that first crush a secret? It would ruin him. He really was the worst of the worst, a true incestuous slut, a pervert.

Besides, it isn't like he has suitors lined up in the wings. He isn't like most of the other guys, with their cute figures and ability to flaunt it. He's come to terms with it by now. To some extent, anyway.

Eh, why not just throw caution to the wind. At worst someone reads his scandalous responds and gets a good laugh or a mini heart attack. It'll be a bit of fun, something like creative writing. His own fictional world where he can just write exactly what he wants in his love life.

He sat forward, and began to awkwardly type at the keyboard without even reading the whole form.

Name: John Doe

Sex: Male

Description of Ideal Partner: A girl who's just like my cousin, Tiffany Brian, but she has romantic feelings for me. She should be a good friend and a good lover, as comfortable as me with the kind of relationship that we have.

John stopped typing. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. He could make this dream girl just like Tiffany, but he could just as easily alter a few things. It's not like Tiffany would feel more angry about him crushing on an altered version of her than she would feel about him crushing on her. Maybe it would even be better? He slowly moved his eyes, back to the screen, and then began to peck at the keyboard.

Description of Ideal Partner: A girl who's just like my cousin, Tiffany Brian, but she has romantic feelings for me. She should be a good friend and a good lover, as comfortable as me with the kind of relationship that we have. She doesn't give me different treatment just because I'm a guy. She's confident in herself, and able to be expressive. Although she's still strong and able to be professional, she feels more at ease and happy, able to be the person she wants to be and to say the things she wants to say without excessive fear.

Yeah, okay. Tiffany might get pissed at that, if she ever found out he wrote it. Hopefully that never happened, God. It's not like she could really blame him though! As much as he tried, it was just so hard to drag her out of her gruff shell sometimes. When he did it was always nice, like he was getting to interact with the real Tiffany, the one she wouldn't let anyone else see. He just wanted her to be happy, to feel good in her own shoes.

And if he was being honest, his ideal version of Tiffany would be all of things.

He looked down the form, and frowned. Fetish? That seems a bit odd. Whatever. He had come this far, he wasn't going to let something so... lewd... stop him.

Wow, this was hard to say. His mouth closed into a thin line, and he had to remind himself to breathe. It's supposedly okay to have things you like in the... bedroom.

Okay, he can do this. Might as well, at this point. It can't be harder than admitting that his cousin was his love interest. Ugh, that's a whole thing to think about.

Okay, time to write, definitely not time to think. Nope, not at all.

Favorite Personal Fetish: Submissive to Tiffany as Domina. Sometimes we might even

Fuck this was hard. Okay, just gotta push through it.It's totally worth it, this fake email that's going to some scammer is definitely important enough for this level of mental effort.

Favorite Personal Fetish: Submissive to Tiffany as Domina. Sometimes we might even switch. Having my nipples rubbed.

Alright, that's definitely not at all embarrassing. Time to just send that and pretend that it doesn't exist... aaaand... done.

Alright, that was fun and stressful enough for one day. John put his computer to sleep, and left to get ready to do the same himself. He needed his rest after all that, and he had to do some reorganization before school, so all the time he could scratch out of the night would be well worth it.

---

Billy clicked away at his keyboard at lightning speed. The ten monitors in front of him flashed too quickly for most mortal eyes to process, but as a Tralfamadorian he was able to manage at this breakneck speed. He already knew most of the decisions he would make anyways, since he had already made them.

Suddenly, he paused, and the ten screens froze. Tiffany Brian's form had been expanded to fill an entire screen. Billy read the description, then read it again. Could he really be so lucky?

Suddenly, the other nine other screens become a flurry of activity, names and forms flying by faster than ever before. After several minutes, Billy began to narrow down his search. This was something that was actually unexplored for him, something that he hadn't experienced in advance. Is this how some of his colleagues felt every damn day?

One by one, the monitors on Billy's desk and wall fell still. Finally, he was staring at one last monitor, clicking and reading faster and faster. His hand cramped, but he barely even noticed. The screen slowed to a crawl, then stopped.

Billy wiped sweat from his brow. That was a first. He gazed at the options before him, considering. The boss might say some baloney about the fabric of time and space and how nothing is worth making the big collapse possible, but it was just so interesting. So new.

Besides, look at the upside! It was absolutely insane, something never before even dreamed of. Billy didn't know how these unimportant, normal humans could be so damn special, but he wasn't about to complain. This would be the weirdest set up of his career, and he hoped to god it worked out. If it did, he might even become the boss's right hand man.

If it didn't, well, he might not have to worry about that for too long. Or maybe he would have to worry about it forever. It was hard to know.

A guy can dream about being appreciated, even if that guy already knows that he won't be. Though this whole... thing... threw a wrench in the works of time and space, so hey, maybe recognition and the perks of office that came with that would be forthcoming after all.

Billy copied the standard email he would send to matches, and made a handful of tweaks. Feeling nervous for the first time in... ever, he crossed his fingers and hit send.

Well, back to the grind. Ten monitors began to flash, moving just as fast as before, but the being looking them over felt something different. Something unfamiliar.