This branches into two storylines, with the alternate one marked with an A
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The Tall and Short Problems of a Cute Gamer Girl

[11]
For the Alt Branch [11A]

Neither of them wanted to let go of the little guy. He eventually decided that was enough of this silliness and opted to scamper out of their grasp and over to the cat tree on the other side of the room.

Herschel seemed somewhat skeptical about the reappearance of his littermate. He had been fooled before by old videos with the deceased kitty meowing plaintively and attempted to search around the speakers and behind the monitor for where his dear friend was hiding. It broke Jeremy‘s heart. For several weeks, he had to close the door to the loft when working on tribute videos so that it didn’t cause the poor little guy undue distress. Herschel looked between Tycho and them, as though seeking some affirmation they felt unequipped to offer.

And that still wasn’t all. The kitchen seemed particularly laid out in a way that vaguely reminded Jeremy of how his mom preferred it rather than what Rachel tended to go with. The shelves behind the living area were filled with the usual board games, titles that could stand natural light because they had printed labels rather than the originals, and all sorts of little trinkets.

Rachel‘s office at the end of the hall shifted. It no longer appeared to be her space but rather Giselle‘s. This was rather obvious from several samples of graphic design along the wall, including the name Giselle depicted in a stylized fashion. A cramped studio was set up on one side for art, stop-motion, various costumes next to a green screen, and an area for streaming.

Of course, with those alterations, they both hurried over to the loft to see what had changed there. Less of a collection existed along the wall and they trended more towards special edition RPGs, puzzle titles, and platformers. Jeremy stared open-mouthed at Giselle in cosplay as Kumatora from the Mother series. Mostly because she looked way sexier than he ever imagined.

They were soon to find out that this wasn’t even the most adventurous cosplay taken on by Giselle Conway. Yeah, Giselle took … Finn‘s family name. Finn Conway instead of Rachel Huber. The new reality was extensively altered, although Jeremy recognized several of their friends as still their friends. Change the details, but don’t shake the timeline too much because everything could unravel into paradoxes.

It didn’t take her too long to discover Giselle had ordered the toilet seat and then apparently contacted some sort of handyman instead of whatever they had run into with the meetup. That explained the second seat.

”What do we do?” Rachel asked, with her arms folded, looking up at Jeremy. Best guess, he assumed they had somewhere between thirty and forty minutes before they reverted to the state suggested by everything around them. And he understood the question she was asking.

Getting an hour of time as close to their original selves as possible felt pointless. Everything around urged them towards just accepting this shift. Heck, he noticed the Golden Play Button proudly and prominently framed in one corner of Finn’s space. Giselle‘s studio had the next-place one, but it looked older.

Clearly, this version of the two of them had bolstered success with a variety of alterations. Giselle still made the kind of videos that excited Jeremy but with interests seeded from her cosmetology and fashion-minded mom. Finn still held Rachel‘s creative side but with more of a video game focus to be the breadwinner. Swapped roles. But why couldn’t a girl like Giselle still be all about video games and editing without throwing in girly elements?

Granted, Rachel had her own approach to video games. Those she liked and those she avoided. But, they often shared joy in the same titles, no matter how much violence and what mature themes. They each bristled at being pigeonholed into rigid characteristics from the swap. No matter how appealing their new roles may appear.

But just ripping everything to pieces and flashing a middle finger at the world didn’t feel constructive either. So, they decided to make supper. Curry chicken with extra pepper flakes and sauce for Jeremy and “reasonable” spice for Rachel. It was like a blinding curtain of warmth that pushed away all the other concerns.

At this point, Herschel decided that, no matter how strange it was that Tycho was back in his life, he was going to snuggle with him in the very cramped spot at the top of the cat tree and Tycho resolved he was gonna tolerate the snuggling as they each waited on their supper.

Eventually, as they were cleaning up after supper and Rachel fed their boys the nicest-looking cans in the cupboard, the shift back kicked in. Giselle wobbled with her new perspective and a dirty plate in her hands and called out to warn Rachel that she was about to be launched into the stratosphere. They changed simultaneously.

Giselle considered putting another hour on her clock by straddling the bowl again, but instead just rummaged around in the other closets to see what sort of fashion this version of her went for. To her chagrin, there were a lot of skirts and plenty of ruffles. Finn‘s closet retained both Jeremy’s affinity for simple plaid and a collection of unique, video game-themed tops.

The distractions later included scouring Giselle‘s relocated computers for what project she had been working on last. One was a Kirby stop-motion about 2/3 done. The vlogs were nearly caught up, with just two weeks to be edited together. She also had some unfinished photo collections with a JRPG character she didn’t recognize. Looking into a face that should’ve reflected herself was like staring at another person who just happened to wear your skin the other day. She avoided dealing with that particular project for now and instead edited through a version of the morning stream which retained many of the elements of her brainwashing but with nervous Finn instead of sullen Rachel.

She idled more than usual, especially when Dale showed up online and they chatted for a while. What bothered her was how Dale seemed polite but aloof. Only when she questioned… Finn… Rachel later did she piece together the disparity. It seemed that Giselle and Dale still knew each other as friends but apparently Midwest Finn hit it off with the college group far better and had many in-jokes that poor Rachel just didn’t understand. Rachel managed to pass it off.

Who were her friends now? Would she even like them? What about Rachel? She had lifetime-quality friendships with the girls from her dorms. Some of those may have even saved her life. The world just couldn’t be edited around that. She wanted to scream that fact to the heavens, so that whoever was in charge of this rewrite would throw up their hands. Neither of them dug that deep into the people they knew before shifting to bedtime.

Washing boobs on her body had started to be passé for Giselle. Sure, they were boobs, and some innate part of her original mind and even soul felt a certain inescapable amusement. But, even before, seeing Rachel in her natural state migrated from something of enraptured newness to calm familiarity. They had long gotten used to dealing with the everyday in stages of nudity as a couple. Giselle was still dealing with the scope of Finn though.

She toyed around with a nightgown from her alternate’s favorite stock. Finn had his shirt off and stripped down to a pair of lengthy boxers. He turned his lanky figure with ease towards her. It didn’t take much before he had his arm around her narrow waist.

Giselle‘s head swam. Seeing someone above her like this, especially a man, lit nervous flares in her racing heart. He was dominating her, over her confidently, and that heady helplessness felt like it was turning strange knobs inside her. He bent down and pressed his lips against hers. She was kissed. She was small. She was there with her breasts so obvious, and her form so stripped down. It was a romantic cluster of nonsense shoved inside of a cliché, but she was drunk on the possibilities even though Jeremy never drank.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and lingered, as he set the tempo. Hot, insistent feelings dove deep inside her and pressed against her threshold. It was all going so fast, too fast. She was going to drown in herself. Before the need for a yell or a cry, Finn receded and touched a strong, warm hand to the side of her cheek. Despite the anxiety of a moment before, all that vanished, and she wanted to be lost again, dizzily sinking beneath the waves of his love.

It was so internally frustrating because she wanted to dive under and still painfully floated above. She was so desperately afraid that if she embraced the depths, then there would be no going back from this version of herself. Before that torrent of swinging emotions could rise to the surface, Finn cradled her delicately and told her it was all right. Also, he whispered that she should go get the crab toy on a string from the closet because Tycho used to love to play before he went to bed.

He still did. He flew from his resting spot in the living room to bolt on top of the bed and hunt down that little crab. Herschel marveled and surveyed the bed with Tycho taking up the space. When they had two cats, Herschel was always the more timid one. He didn’t want to intrude on Tycho’s space, so he tended to sleep on the floor a little ways from the bed. But that changed when it was just him. Finn reached over to lift him up and keep him in his lap. But that was one thing too many for the little guy. He scampered away and cozied up against the far wall with his head down and his eyes swiftly shut.

Even though it didn’t take long for Tycho to tire himself out playing, Herschel still kept his distance. Finn sat up in bed a while before saying he was going to take a shower. Giselle’s eyes slid close with a yawn.

“…We appreciate your obedience.” Giselle tried to shut her eyes, but she felt locked in, as though in a dream that she could only watch. Slowly, a new shadow spilled over from the ones that should’ve been there. A spindly, spidery form stretched so high that it seemed to reach the ceiling. Giselle recognized its face. The strange man they got the seat from. He looked broken and reformed, like an insect.

Firmly, his narrow fingers clasped her chin. “Just don’t wake her up. Let her cries go unanswered.” She thought at first he was wearing rounded sunglasses, but as he closed the distance, she realized his eyes were like liquid obsidian staring and plunging through her skull.

Desperately, inside her thoughts, Giselle wanted to scream, “Who are you?!? What are you?!? Why are you doing this!?!” But silence was all that echoed.

Turning over a rumbling growl, the emaciated creature responded, “Cerberus isn’t the right name. I just like it. I have another. I’ll spare you it… For now.” Through the shut door to the master bathroom, Giselle could hear high screaming that sounded unnatural, too frantic to be anything human, too primal.

”Play along. Be quiet. Don’t make waves… and maybe you can have what you really want.”  Clawed hands pressed at her throat, as though trying to dig the air out of her as she swallowed it.

Giselle gasped and struggled to breathe. She was awake. But it didn’t feel like she’d been sleeping. One breath after the other still felt like a trial, and she could still almost hear that inhuman screaming from far off. When Finn returned, he had no idea about the voice or anything else. He wrapped her up in a hug. Giselle wanted to feel comforted, she wanted to feel safe, but it still felt like a twisted hand with endless limbs and a gaunt, hungry body rested just outside the house, waiting for its moment to slip back inside.

No way she could sleep.