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Author's Note:We are here at least, the end of this story. Its been a lot of fun. I'd really like to thank everyone for their reactions to this, it was a lot of fun to do. I appreciate any kind of feedback or comments that people might have :).
 

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5.

Kayla's bedroom was a controlled explosion of femininity that somehow managed to avoid being tacky—probably because she'd spent sixteen years refining the aesthetic. The walls were a soft blush pink, something muted and sophisticated. A gallery wall above the dresser displayed framed concert tickets, Polaroids of Kayla with friends, and one embarrassing middle school dance photo that Taylor vaguely remembered being forced into a suit for. The vanity was a battlefield of half-open compacts and lip gloss tubes, its mirror smudged with fingerprints where Kayla had leaned in too close to apply eyeliner.

The queen-sized bed dominated the space, its fluffy white comforter piled high with decorative pillows in varying shades of cream and rose. Taylor knew without asking that Kayla actually slept with exactly one pillow—the rest got tossed to the floor every night in a ritual their mother had given up fighting years ago. Beside the bed, an overstuffed chair overflowed with discarded outfits from that morning's wardrobe crisis.

"What are we doing here?" Taylor asked from the doorway.

Kayla took her hands, dragging her over to the vanity.

Kayla spun Taylor toward the vanity mirror with a flourish, pressing her shoulders down until she sat. "Phase one," she announced, snapping open a makeup case that smelled of pressed powders and teenage desperation. "Basic survival skills." Her fingers danced over palettes like a concert pianist—burgundy here, champagne there—selecting colors with the precision of a bomb technician.

Taylor recoiled as her sister brandished an eyeliner pencil like a scalpel. "You're not tattooing me."

"Relax, it's just winged liner." Kayla's knee dug into Taylor's thigh as she leaned in, her breath warm against Taylor's cheek. "Unless you want to look like a middle schooler who got into her mom's Clinique bag." The pencil touched Taylor's lash line—a sensation both alien and oddly familiar, like remembering a language she'd never learned.

The mirror reflected Kayla's focused frown, her tongue poking between her teeth the way it did during chemistry exams. Taylor watched her own face transform stroke by stroke—the subtle arch of her brows darkened, lips blotted with a stain that tasted like artificial cherries. Gamma's work became somehow more real under Kayla's ministrations, the girl in the glass settling into her features like they'd always been hers.

Kayla stepped back from the vanity, her fingers twitching near Taylor's face like she wanted to tweak something but couldn't find a flaw. "Holy shit," she breathed, her usual bravado cracking for once. The makeup wasn't dramatic—just enough to accentuate Gamma's handiwork—but the transformation was startling nonetheless. Taylor looked like Kayla's polished doppelganger, the subtle contouring making her cheekbones look sharper, her lips fuller, her eyes somehow brighter.

Kayla snapped a picture. "For the folder" she said and a second later Taylor's phone binged. "One for your Insta too"

"I don't have an Insta" she admitted.

"Not yet sis" Kayla giggled.

Taylor sighed. She had to admit though, the makeup was amazing. For a fleeting moment, she couldn't help but wonder if she could do that too?

Taylor's own phone binged again. A text from Benny:

*You Alive Still, Bro?*

Taylor cursed, realizing she forgot to update him.

"Kay, I gotta talk to Benny" she said, getting up from the chair.

Kayla waved her off. "We'll finish this later, Tay."

Taylor groaned, suddenly realizing why Kayla had insisted on calling her "Taylor".

Kay and Tay.

Shit.

She left her sister's room, moving back toward her own as she called Benny.

"Yo, you all girly now?" asked Benny when he answered.

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Hey to you too".

"Dude, you sound like a chick!" Benny gasped.

"Dude, I am a chick" Taylor said, annoyed.

The silence on Benny's end stretched just a beat too long. Taylor could practically hear the gears grinding in his head through the phone. "So like..." Benny cleared his throat. ""Wait, you actually—"

"They said 48 hours. I'm all girl as of this morning" Taylor explained.

"No shit" Benny said softly.

Benny’s silence stretched long enough that Taylor could hear the faint hum of his gaming PC in the background. Finally, he exhaled sharply. "So you like Kayla's full twin now?"

|"One sec" she said, sending him the pic Kayla had taken of her only minutes ago.

Benny's phone clattered to his desk. Taylor heard the distant thump followed by static-filled cursing. "No fucking way," he whispered when he came back on the line. "That's actually you?"

"I'm a Hottie, right?" he said, mimicking Kayla's voice and tone.

Benny’s breath hitched. “Dude. *Dude.* You look like—holy shit.” The line crackled with his stunned silence before he blurted, “You’re hotter than Kayla!”

She wasn't expecting that.

"Dude" she hissed.

Benny chuckled. "I'm sorry Ty" he said then quickly. "Is it still Tyler?"

"Taylor now" she said, still annoyed that Kayla had tricked her into it.

Benny snorted. "Tay and Kay"

"Bite me" she snapped.

"Gladly"

"Ewww".

Benny laughed. "I call it how I see it"

Taylor felt uncomfortable. "I'm hanging up now"

She ended the call then dialed Callie's number. Callie answered on the second ring.

"Tyler?" her voice was unsure, hopeful.

"Hey Cal" she said, her voice unsure but ready.

Callie sucked in a breath. "You sound a bit like Kayla"

"I look a bit like her too" She bit her lip then sent Callie the photo.

Callie's phone clattered against her desk. Taylor heard a muffled gasp, followed by three seconds of dead air before Callie whispered, "Oh my god." The line clicked—Callie had switched to video. Taylor hesitated, then accepted, watching as Callie's pixelated face morphed from shock to something dangerously close to awe.

"Wow," Callie said, staring. "Kayla, did your makeup?"

"Yeah" Taylor said, unsure about the video call but too late to back out now. "I look ok?"

"You look beautiful," Callie blurted out before she could stop herself.

Taylor blushed.

Callie's fingertips hovered near her screen like she wanted to touch Taylor's image. "So...what do I call you now?"

"Taylor".

Callie giggled. "It's really cute. I like it"

Taylor was strangely relieved. Not just that Callie thought he was cute but also because she still made his stomach flutter. He was scared when things changed and he became a girl, that's he'd stop having a crush on her. Staring at her now---seeing her cute smile---he was glad that wasn't the case.

"You ok?" Callie asked when she realized Taylor wasn't talking.

Taylor blinked. "Yeah and I'm better than good too" She took a deep breath. "I'm happy to say I'm not a Jasmine"

He saw the visible relief on Callie's face.

"I was so scared," Callie said, tearing up slightly.

"Hey it's ok, I'm me" Taylor reassured her. "Well, except I think I'm a gym girl now."

"What?" Callie asked, laughing through her tears.

Taylor sucked in a breath. "I've got abs, Cal. The CDC was here earlier too and I did all this shit without breaking a sweat" She bit her lip. "I want to run too."

Callie's eyes sparkled through the pixelated screen. "Wait—you *want* to run? Like, voluntarily?" She leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching her camera. "You sure you're still not sick?"

Taylor stuck out her tongue. Callie giggled.

She went on to explain the whole of her day to Callie so far. The two of them talked for well over two hours. First it was about Taylor's day then it turned into Callie's day. Callie explained how her parents finally let her go back to school.

"Do they know about me yet?" Taylor asked, concerned.

She nodded. "It was on the news. The CDC also announced that it seems The Bug has moved. With you, Jas and Henry---the last patient---in isolation, there's no more worry."

"They're sure?" she asked, still scared that Callie or Kayla would get sick.

"There hasn't been any new outbreaks since you 3 days ago" Callie clarified. "We're wearing masks, getting regular blood screenings. They're being cautious but they're pretty certain its gone"

She was relieved to hear it.

Now she would just have to survive her new life.

That night, their Dad finally returned home. Taylor and Kayla were watching some mushy rom com that Taylor had no interest in. Kayla was in the kitchen making popcorn when the front door opened.

At first their father thought Taylor was Kayla: "Sweetheart" he said, tired. "I love what you've done with your hair"

Taylor was stunned, not having seen her father in actual months.

Their father was more stunned when Kayla walked out of the kitchen with the popcorn. "Oh hey Daddy" she said casually, dropping onto the couch. "This is Taylor, your new daughter"

And that's how Taylor's reunion with her father went.

Their mother met him at the door with a glass of wine. "Welcome to the Fun House" she said with a laugh.

The rest of the night it was all pretty damn awkward. Taylor felt her father staring at her all night but he didn't say one word to her.

The next morning, Taylor woke to find Kayla perched on the edge of her bed like a manic pixie drill sergeant, already dressed in athleisure wear with a full face of makeup. "Wakey wakey," she announced, tossing a pastel pink sports bra at Taylor's face. "Morning routines are sacred."

Kayla had done some more shopping for her last night. She updated Taylor's bra selection and bought her some clothes that fit her new body properly.

Taylor groaned into her pillow—it smelled faintly of the vanilla-scented shampoo Kayla had forced her to use last night—before grudgingly pulling the bra on. The fabric stretched over her chest with unfamiliar resistance, the snug fit simultaneously comforting and alien. At least this one fit.

"Today's lesson?" Kayla flourished a curling wand like Excalibur. "Basic maintenance."

Taylor eyed the contraption warily. "That looks like a medieval torture device."

"It will be if you don't hold still." Kayla plugged it in with a decisive click. "Gamma gave you the hair, but I'm giving you the skills to not look like you styled it with a weed whacker."

That's how it began and continued.

For the next week, every time she woke, Kayla was there waiting.

Kayla's tutoring sessions unfolded with military precision—each morning began with skincare routines that felt more like chemical warfare, followed by hair styling tutorials where Taylor learned the difference between a beach wave and a "I slept in a dumpster" wave. By day three, she could French braid without cursing, though Kayla still had to intervene when she accidentally tangled half her hair in the straightener.

The strangest part wasn't the techniques—it was how quickly her hands adapted. The Bug had rewired her muscle memory along with everything else. Her fingers automatically twisted strands into perfect spirals, her wrists pivoted at just the right angle to blend eyeshadow. Sometimes Taylor would catch herself humming along to Kayla's playlist while flat-ironing her bangs, moving with an ease that should've taken years to develop.

"You're cheating," Kayla accused during their fourth makeup session, watching Taylor nail winged liner on the first try. She poked Taylor's ribcage. "Gamma gave you built-in tutorials or something?"

Taylor grunted. "I'm a fast study" she admitted.

It was only half right. She had a lot of focus now, more than she ever did as Tyler. What's more, once she seemed to learn something now, she picked up almost instantly.

Kayla huffed, tossing her a tube of mascara. "Try this without stabbing your eye out."

Taylor caught it effortlessly—another perk of Gamma's enhancements—her fingers moving with uncanny precision as she unscrewed the cap. The wand glided over her lashes in smooth strokes, each movement perfectly mirrored from Kayla's earlier demonstration. The mirror reflected lashes so thick and dark they looked photoshopped.

This became their week. Girl Lessons in the morning, then lunch. Followed by more Girl Lessons up to dinner. It was strange and exciting all at once. Better than that was her new relationship with Kayla. They were closer than ever now. Taylor spent less and less time in her room and more time with Kayla, just doing "stuff".

Her nights were spent texting Callie, dodging Benny's pervy texts and setting up her new socials that Kayla insisted she do. They still had to be private though, per the agreement their mother made with the government. Full media blackout until she was officially back at school. That meant no reporters, no interviews but also no TikTok, Instagram or Snapchat.

Everything was going pretty smoothly except Taylor's relationship with her father. They didn't talk and when he was around, it was awkward.

When the second week of her isolation started, Kayla did more of the same but added other little annoyances.

Taylor woke to the smell of jasmine-scented candles—Kayla’s newest obsession—and the sight of her sister contorted into what looked like a human pretzel on the lavender yoga mat they’d dragged into Taylor’s room. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Kayla chirped, her voice strained from holding some impossible pose. "Today we unlock your chakras."

Taylor groaned, pulling a pillow over her face. The fabric smelled like the rosewater toner Kayla had spritzed on her before bed. "It’s seven AM."

"Perfect time for sun salutations," Kayla said, unfurling herself with unnatural grace. She tossed another mat at Taylor’s legs. "Gamma gave you flexibility. Let’s not waste it."

Invoking "Gamma this" and "Gamma that" was starting to get on her nerves but Kayla wouldn't stop.

With yoga now added to her daily routine, she started to feel more flexible as well.

Week 2 dragged on as much as the first but with more to do.

Taylor's phone buzzed with an incoming call mid-downward dog, nearly sending her face-first into the yoga mat. Kayla made an exasperated noise as Taylor wobbled upright, nearly tripping over her own leggings—still not used to the way fabric clung to her hips now—to grab the device. Callie's name flashed on the screen.

Taylor fumbled with the phone, her Gamma-enhanced reflexes the only thing preventing it from smacking her in the face. "Hey Cal," she panted, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand—a gesture that made Kayla roll her eyes and mime proper lady-like blotting with an imaginary handkerchief.

"It's official, no more Bug in Ridgewood" Callie announced with glee. "So when are you officially coming back to school?"

Taylor sighed. "I have one more week"

She could hear the disappointment in Callie's sigh. "I really want to see you, you know?"

There was definitely something unspoken there. Taylor thought Callie was just being her friend like usual but something shifted. That something was with Taylor for years but he was certain Callie had never truly felt that way. Both of them were aware of it but neither of them were brave enough to do anything about it.

The call ended with Callie's unspoken question lingering in the air like static. Taylor stared at her phone screen—now displaying the lock screen photo Kayla had sneakily changed to a mortifying close-up of their matching manicures—until Kayla's socked foot prodded her thigh.

The socked foot jabbed Taylor again. "Earth to Gamma Girl," Kayla said, curling her toes against Taylor's leggings. "You just did the whole staring-into-space-with-a-stupid-smile thing. Callie say something good?"

"Nope, just the usual," Taylor said, turning away.

"You're blushing".

The third week of isolation began with Kayla dumping a Sephora bag onto Taylor's bed at dawn—contents spilling out in a cacophony of plastic-wrapped palettes and jingling brushes. "Advanced warfare," Kayla declared, plucking a liquid eyeliner pen from the pile like Excalibur. Taylor groaned into her pillow, which now permanently smelled of Kayla's vanilla-chai body mist from their nightly skincare routines.

The eyeliner pen hovered dangerously close to Taylor's waterline as Kayla demonstrated the "puppy dog" technique for the third time that morning. "Hold still," Kayla murmured, her tongue poking out in concentration. Taylor blinked—bad move—and felt the cold sting of liquid liner where it shouldn't be. "Dammit, Tay!"

"Sorry," Taylor muttered, dabbing at the smudge with a cotton swab. Her reflection in the vanity mirror showed raccoon eyes that would make a punk rocker proud. Three weeks of this, and she still couldn't nail eyeliner. Meanwhile, her Gamma-enhanced muscles could do one-handed pushups without breaking a sweat. Life wasn't fair.

Kayla snatched the liner back with a huff. "Let's switch to theory." She pulled up a YouTube tutorial on contouring—some beauty guru with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Taylor's phone buzzed. Another text from Benny: *u gonna wear a skirt when u come back?* She rolled her eyes so hard Kayla noticed.

"Problem?" Kayla asked, eyebrow arched.

"Benny being Benny." Taylor turned her screen to show the message.

Kayla grinned. "Well I do have the cutest one that would work with those killer legs of yours"

Taylor grunted. "I told you, Kay, I'm not ready for that"

Her sister pouted but dropped it.

Things continued like that for another few days. Girl Lessons, online school, more Girl Lessons. Then came the day Taylor had been waiting for—her last day of isolation.

The dining room smelled like garlic butter and nostalgia—a combination Taylor hadn’t realized she missed until their father awkwardly placed the takeout containers in front of her with a stiff nod. "Your usual," he muttered, sliding the Styrofoam clamshell across the table like it might explode. The grease-stained container held the last meal she'd ever eaten as Tyler: extra-spicy General Tso’s chicken, the kind that made her chug milk halfway through.

Kayla snorted, poking at her own salad with surgical precision. "Way to commemorate the apocalypse, Dad." Their mother shot her a warning look, but Taylor caught the twitch of her lips. The whole scene was bizarrely normal—if you ignored the fact that Taylor was sitting there in a cropped hoodie that showed off her newly acquired midriff, her hair styled in perfect beach waves courtesy of Kayla’s relentless tutorials.

Taylor hesitated before popping open the container, the steam carrying memories of soccer team dinners and late-night cram sessions. She’d eaten this exact meal a hundred times before, but never with these hands—never with nails painted ballet-slipper pink, never with wrists that looked too delicate to belong to someone who could out-bench their football team. The first bite was unexpectedly painful in its familiarity, the heat flooding her mouth just like always. Except now it made her eyes water in a way that had Kayla tossing her a napkin with an exasperated, "Blot, don’t wipe."

"So excited about school next week?" Their father asked, trying small talk.

The man was struggling with all of this.

Taylor shrugged. "I'm pretty sure its going to be the same old school like usual."

Kayla snorted. "As if"

"What does that mean?" asked Taylor, scared that something new might happen.

Kayla smirked. "It means you're hot now, Tay. People are going to notice"

Taylor groaned as she stabbed at her General Tso’s chicken with chopsticks that suddenly felt too delicate in her hands. The takeout celebration dinner was supposed to feel normal—their parents had even dimmed the dining room lights like it was some fancy restaurant instead of their cramped suburban home. But nothing about tonight was normal, not with Dad avoiding eye contact every time Taylor’s newly manicured fingers reached for another egg roll, not with Mom pretending not to notice when Taylor instinctively adjusted her bra strap through the thin fabric of her hoodie.

This was their new normal now.

On Saturday morning, Taylor's mother silently entered her room. She expected to find her new daughter still asleep but Taylor was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Dr. Jones called, your isolation has been lifted. You're free to leave the house if you'd like".

Taylor's face lit up. "Seriously?" Her mother nodded, she squealed.

Finally, she'd be able to run without the stupid treadmill.

Taylor's fingers trembled as she tied the laces of her running shoes—brand new neon pink Nikes Kayla had bought her the other day. The morning air through her cracked bedroom window carried the scent of wet pavement and impending rain, making her lungs ache with the need to move. She paused at the full-length mirror Kayla had installed last week, taking in the stranger staring back: leggings hugging unfamiliar muscle definition, a cropped sports bra revealing smooth skin where her new abs were on full display.

There was nothing boy about her now.

Tyler was gone. She'd mourn him but lately, she'd felt a lot more confident and full of energy. She never realized how lonely and lazy her old life had been.

The front door creaked open with the gravitas of a prison gate—Taylor hesitated on the threshold, her neon pink shoelaces catching sunlight like traffic cones. Three weeks of isolation had rewired her perception of air itself; the suburban morning smelled impossibly green, asphalt still damp from overnight rain exhaling petrichor that prickled her enhanced senses. Her first step onto the porch felt like stepping onto the moon.

She walked to the end of the driveway, limbering up.

Their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Finch, was getting her mail from the box.

"Morning Mrs. Finch" she said cheerfully.

"Oh morning, Kayla dear, I haven't see you in weeks. Not since poor Tyler got sick" She paused. "How is he?"

Taylor was embarrassed and smiled. "Actually, I'm Tyler ma'am".

Mrs. Finch's bifocals slid down her nose as she squinted at Taylor. The silence stretched long enough for a leaf to flutter between them. "Oh," she finally said, adjusting her cardigan with trembling hands. "Well. You look... just like your sister."

Taylor laughed. "Well we are twins."

The old woman nodded, turned and started back toward her house.

Taylor started her run.

The pavement blurred beneath Taylor's neon shoes as she lapped the block twice—testing Gamma's limits with each stride that sent her flying past mailboxes in a pink streak. Her lungs burned sweetly, not from exhaustion but from the sheer joy of movement after weeks of confinement. On the third pass, her feet pivoted without conscious thought, carrying her down the cul-de-sac toward Callie's butter-yellow colonial before her brain could protest.

Taylor slowed to a walk as the house came into view, suddenly aware of her sweat-damp sports bra and the way her ponytail had come half-undone during the run. Callie's bedroom curtains were still drawn—of course they were, it was barely 8 AM on a Saturday—but the kitchen light glowed warm behind the bay window. Taylor hovered at the edge of the driveway, torn between knocking and bolting back home like a startled deer.

The decision was made for her when the front door swung open. Callie's mom nearly dropped her coffee mug at the sight of Taylor panting on her porch. "Jesus—" She caught herself, eyes darting from Taylor's Gamma-enhanced curves to the faint remnants of Tyler's features in her face. "Taylor? Honey, you look..."

"Hi Mrs. M" she said, waving awkwardly.

There was a squeal from somewhere in the house, someone made dashing toward them. A moment, Callie leapt past her mother, throwing her arms around Taylor's neck.

Callie's bare feet skidded on the hardwood as she collided with Taylor, the impact sending them both stumbling backward onto the dew-damp welcome mat. Taylor instinctively wrapped her arms around Callie's waist—her Gamma-enhanced reflexes the only thing preventing them from toppling over—and suddenly she was hyperaware of the warmth of Callie's sleep-rumpled tank top against her bare midriff, the strawberry shampoo scent of her hair tickling Taylor's nose.

"You're here" Callie gasped. "You're out then? No more lock down?"

Taylor laughed. "Bug free".

Callie's fingers dug into Taylor's shoulders like she might evaporate if she let go. "Mom, can Taylor stay for breakfast?" The words tumbled out in a rush, her breath warm against Taylor's collarbone. Mrs. M's gaze flickered between them—lingering on how Callie's thumbs brushed the exposed skin above Taylor's sports bra—before nodding slowly.

Callie let go of her neck but grabbed her hand and led her into the house toward the kitchen. Mr. M was already sitting at the table, his toast halfway to his mouth when he saw Taylor.

"Taylor, I assume?" he asked, watching both the girls like a hawk.

"It is now, sir" she said as Callie dragged her to a seat.

The syrup bottle hovered between them like an interrogation lamp. Mr. M poured another precise spiral onto his pancakes while studying Taylor over the rim of his glasses. "So," he said, tapping the spatula against the griddle, "the virus thing. Did it... hurt?"

Callie kicked him under the table. "Dad!"

"No sir," Taylor explained. "I was asleep when they happened. When I woke up both days, the changes were done"

Taylor watched Mrs. M's knuckles whiten around her coffee mug. "And your parents—how are they handling..." Her gaze flicked to Taylor's manicured nails drumming against the maple tabletop.

"Mom's adjusting," Taylor said carefully, tracing the wood grain with her fingertip. "Dad's... still working through it." The understatement burned her tongue worse than the General Tso’s chicken had last night.

Mr. M cleared his throat. "We saw the CDC bulletins. The..." His eyes darted to Taylor's collarbones peeking above her sports bra. "The physical changes are permanent?"

"Yep. Batting for the other team now" Taylor said with a chuckle.

"The better team" said Callie, giving Taylor's hand a gentle squeeze.

Mrs. M's spoon clinked against her cereal bowl. "What about school records? Birth certificate?" Her questions came rapid-fire, the same practical concerns Taylor's own mother had obsessed over during week two of isolation. "Do you still use the same social security number?"

Taylor shrugged. "Got a provisional ID last week. The government seems to be handling all of that."

Mr. M leaned forward, elbows sticking to the maple syrup stains on the table. "And physically...you feel alright?" His eyes darted to Callie's fingers interlaced with Taylor's, then quickly away. "No side effects?"

Taylor had to think about it. "I'm not as lazy as before" She waved at her outfit. "I was out running. It seems I'm pretty athletic now"

Callie grinned and squeezed her hand tighter. "That's insane."

Mrs. M cleared her throat. "And medically? Are you..." Her voice dropped. "Fully functional?"

Taylor blushed. She wasn't really sure how to answer that. She knew the answer from what Dr. Jones had told her but saying it aloud.

"Mom!" Callie chastized her mother. "And with that, interrogation is over. Taylor and I are going to my room now!"

Before any of them could say a thing, Callie grabbed her hand and pulled her from the kitchen.

"Keep the door wide open, young lady!" her father shouted but the two girls were already out of the kitchen.

Callie's bedroom door swung open with the faint creak Taylor remembered from childhood visits, but the space beyond had transformed into something entirely foreign. Posters of boy bands had been replaced with moody indie film prints, the twin bed upgraded to a queen with a wrought-iron frame that looked suspiciously adult. A vanity dominated the far wall, its surface cluttered with more makeup than Kayla owned—which Taylor hadn't thought possible. The air smelled like the vanilla candle flickering on the nightstand, layered with something citrusy from the diffuser humming in the corner.

Taylor noticed some Kpop posters as well.

Callie kicked the door shut with her heel—not quite closed enough to earn parental wrath, but enough to grant them the illusion of privacy. Taylor hovered near the bed, suddenly hyperaware of her own sweat-damp skin and the way her neon running shoes clashed violently with Callie's muted lavender bedroom decor.

"Its really nice" she said as Callie took her hand and sat down on the bed with her.

Callie bit her lip. "If I do something right now, will you freak out?"

Taylor's pulse thudded in her throat—she could feel it against her collarbone where Callie's fingers had brushed moments ago. The morning sunlight through Callie's curtains painted stripes across the comforter between them, highlighting the space where their knees almost touched. "Depends on the something," she managed, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears.

Callie's fingers twitched against the comforter before darting forward to hook around Taylor's pinky—a gesture so small it shouldn't have sent Taylor's heart ricocheting against her ribs. "Like this," Callie whispered, her thumb brushing Taylor's knuckle in a way that made the scar from Tyler's bike accident feel brand new.

Taylor's breath caught as Callie's pinky curled tighter around hers—a childish gesture that somehow felt more intimate than anything she'd experienced pre-Gamma. The morning sunlight caught the gold flecks in Callie's brown eyes, making her eyes look like amber trapped in honey.

"I want to kiss you so much right now" Callie found herself saying, catching them both off guard.

"Wait, what?" asked Taylor, surprised.

Callie bit her lip again. "You're absolutely gorgeous. I mean I've always had the tiniest bit of a crush on Kayla but you know, she's Kayla. But you, I liked Tyler a lot..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "And now..."

Taylor stopped Callie talking with her lips.

Callie's breath hitched against Taylor's mouth—a startled little gasp that tasted like maple syrup and morning toothpaste. The kiss lasted longer than she expected. Callie pulled away gently, a big smile on her face.

"That was so not like you" she said, brushing hair behind her ear.

"Sorry".

Taylor was certain she fucked up. She wasn't sure what happened but something inside of her told her to kiss Callie. She'd been scared about her sexual preferences for awhile now. Ever since she changed actually. She'd been doing some research online about it. A lot of Bug girls kept the same sexual preferences as before but some did start liking guys. Many of them ended up bisexual. She wasn't sure how things were going to turn out. She knew she'd been attracted to Callie as Tyler and after their "flirt calls" as Kayla called them, she was convinced she still felt the same.

Now she just confirmed it.

"I'm not mad," Callie finally said. "In fact, I kinda like this new, impulsive person you've become"

Callie leaned in and kissed her again. It was longer and more sensual than before.

Taylor melted into the second kiss. Callie's fingers tangled in the hair at Taylor's nape, the slight tug sending an electric jolt down her spine. When they finally broke apart, Taylor realized her hands had migrated to Callie's waist entirely on their own, thumbs brushing the sliver of warm skin between her sleep shorts and cropped tank top.

"If we don't stop, we might go a little too far" Callie gasped, her arms around Taylor's neck.

Taylor's fingers twitched against Callie's waist—part of her wanting to pull away, the other part wanting to press closer. The logical side of her brain screamed that this was reckless, that they were in Callie's childhood bedroom with her parents just downstairs. Finally she sighed and moved her hands away.

"Hormones suck" she pouted.

Callie giggled, pressing her forehead against Taylor's. "Yeah, well, welcome to girlhood." She traced a finger down Taylor's arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

A dinging text on her Taylor's phone finally broke the mood. Taylor pulled it from the carrier on her arm, checking it.

"Its my Mom. She's wondering where I am"

"I guess I can give you back," Callie said, taking her hand and walking back downstairs with her.

At the bottom of the stairs, she let go, not wanting to alert her parents. Callie was still very much in the closet.

"I'll see you at school on Monday?" Taylor announced. Then as she was going out the door, she shouted. "CYA MR. AND MRS.M!"

She ran back home, making it there in no time.

She was surprised to see Benny sitting on the porch.

Benny leaned against the porch railing with his usual cocky slouch, but his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the wood—nervous energy betraying his casual facade. His gaze locked onto Taylor's Gamma-enhanced figure the moment she rounded the corner, tracking her movements with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

Taylor slowed, not sure how this was going to go.

Benny was Tyler's friend but he was a bit of a horndog. She'd been avoiding him mostly, keeping their texts and calls pretty short. She wasn't sure how to act around him anymore. They became friends out of convenience, both of them bullied by the assholes of the school like Jason. Benny was that short, heavy set kid that everyone liked to use as a punching bag. He wasn't a bad guy but he talked an awful lot about wanting to "bang" this girl and that.

Upon seeing him there, she felt her skin crawl slightly.

Benny's fingers twitched against the porch railing as Taylor approached, his Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy in choppy water. "Damn, T—Taylor," he corrected himself with visible effort, eyes darting from her neon running shoes, up her running attire to the sweat-damp tendrils of hair clinging to her neck. "You look...wow."

"Was out for a run" she said, absently stretching.

"You run now?" he asked, incredulous.

Taylor shrugged. "Jason became an airhead, I became a runner"

Benny was staring at her exposed abs. "Those are real, right?"

Taylor fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

Taylor crossed her arms over her stomach, suddenly self-conscious under Benny’s stare. "Yeah, they're real. Just like the virus that gave them to me." She edged past him toward the and sat on the top step.

Benny sat down next to awkwardly, making sure there was at least a whole person of space between them.

"I don't bite" Taylor laughed, Benny awkwardly chuckled.

"Just trying to give you your space" Benny said nervously.

That's right. She forgot about that little bit. Even though Benny talked the talk as it were, he was actually terrified of girls. Well not terrified but he generally kept his distance from them. Pretty girls were even harder for him. Which meant...

Poor Benny.

Benny's fingers drummed against his knees—an erratic staccato that matched the nervous flicker of his eyes. "So uh," he cleared his throat, staring resolutely at the porch steps between them, "does it... you know... feel different?" His Adam's apple bobbed violently. "Down there?"

Taylor snorted, flicking a pebble off the step with her foot. "Yeah Benny, it feels exactly like having an entirely different set of genitalia would feel."

He paused for a moment. "What about up there?" He grabbed at imaginary boobs in front of his chest.

Taylor was annoyed and feeling devious. "How about I kiss you and you can find out yourself?"

Benny recoiled, almost falling off the porch.

Taylor burst out laughing.

"I'm not contagious anymore, bozo".

Benny recovered quickly but instead of sitting back down, he stood a foot away. "You're a horrible person, you know that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy who just asked a girl about her boobs and..."

Benny waved his hands, interrupting her. "Ok, ok. I get it".

Taylor smirked. "Its a shame, I think you would have made a cute girl."

Benny took another step back, making the sign of the cross with his fingers "How do you know you're not contagious?"

Taylor smiled. "Well one they told me so and two, if I am, you'll have a new male bro to hang out with"

Benny looked confused for a second before it clicked. "Callie? You kissed Callie?" Taylor blushed. "When? How?"

Taylor threw a pebble at him. "A girl doesn't kiss and tell."

"Aww, c'mon dude" Benny whined, getting a look from Taylor. "Ummm, dudette?"

Taylor rolled her eyes, this time letting him see. Nope" she said, getting to her feet. "And don't go asking her either or else I might have to kick your ass".

She flexed a muscle to prove her point.

Benny stared. "Wait, you're ripped. Well not like ripped ripped but you've got one of those bods. How the hell did that happen?"

Taylor shrugged. "Woke up like this."

"Maybe I should get infected," Benny mumbled under his breath.

"I wouldn't try it" Taylor said "I can get periods now."

"Shit" Benny said, taking another step back.

"It could be worse," Taylor admitted, thinking of Jasmine.

Benny seemingly read her mind. "Have you seen her latest stream?"

Taylor nodded. While she didn't want to, it was like watching a car crash over and over again. Every stream, Jasmine seemed to slip further and further away from her previous self. It was scary to see her de-evolution. It was even scarier to think that a twist of fate could have made her the same way.

She shuddered. "The thought terrifies me."

Benny nodded. "It should terrify us all."

Taylor got a text from her Mom: *Dr. Jones called. They want to meet with you at the hospital tomorrow.*

"All good?" asked Benny.

Taylor shrugged. "Just another step in my new life as Taylor apparently."

******

The hospital corridor smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee, the kind that had been sitting in the pot since Friday. Taylor's sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as she followed her mother past the nurse's station—a sound that made her flinch every time. She'd never noticed how loud her footsteps could be before, how the sound bounced off these sterile walls.

They were supposed to meet Dr. Jones with another doctor from the CDC named Dr. Morris.

They met the two doctors in a secluded office room, probably belonging to one of the other doctors at the hospital.

Dr. Morris turned out to be a woman who looked like she'd been assembled from contradictions—early forties but with laugh lines deeper than her professional demeanor should allow, designer heels clicking against hospital tiles while her lab coat flapped with the urgency of someone perpetually late. She smelled faintly of lavender hand sanitizer and something sharper underneath, like burnt coffee left too long on a hotplate.

After they sat on a gray couch, Dr. Jones introduced her colleague.

Dr. Morris leaned forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. "First off, Taylor, I want you to know this isn't an evaluation." Her voice carried a warmth that clashed with the clinical white of the walls. "I'm just here to help people navigate what happens when their outsides stop matching their insides overnight." A chuckle escaped her, sudden and unexpected. "Though I'll admit, 'overnight gender-swapping virus' wasn't in my graduate school curriculum."

Taylor stared at the woman.

She was a shrink.

"You're a psychiatrist?" she asked, concerned.

Dr. Morris smiled. "Psychologist actually. I've been asked by the government to speak with you and others like you. To make sure you're adjusting properly"

Taylor leaned back into the couch, arms crossed. "I'm fine."

"I can see that and normally this would have been sooner but Dr. Jones felt you didn't need as much help because you had your sister guiding you" Dr. Morris was smiling as she talked.

"We're not here because we think you're not adjusting" Dr. Jones quickly added.

Dr. Morris' pen hovered over her notepad—the hesitation more telling than any note she might write. "Most Gamma patients experience some degree of dysphoria," she said carefully, eyes flicking to where Taylor's fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against her own knee. "But your file suggests you've adapted remarkably well. Almost... instinctively."

Taylor felt Dr. Morris' observation like a pinprick between her shoulder blades. She uncrossed her arms, forcing her hands to still against her thighs. "Guess I got lucky," she said, aiming for nonchalance but catching the edge of something sharper in her voice. The lavender sanitizer smell suddenly felt cloying.

"Very lucky" Dr. Morris admitted. "The virus has a way of rewriting some patients, making them completely different".

Like Jasmine, Taylor thought but didn't say it.

"Why didn't it change me?" she asked, curious.

Dr. Morris sighed. "Honestly we don't know." She set down her pad and pen. "As you're aware, there are three strains of the virus---Alpha, Beta and Gamma. In the beginning, Alpha was the only strain. It was slow and caused us a lot of problems. Then came Beta, faster but not nearly as effective as Gamma. Gamma is the real beauty. It only started to show its face a year ago and what's more, it has variants."

"Like me and Jasmine?" Taylor asked, Dr. Morris nodded.

"We're not entirely sure how it happens or why" Dr. Morris admitted. "Its why we're here now. The government is trying to figure it out. Between the three variants, yours does the least. You could almost say you and Jasmine are polar opposites in that regard."

Taylor quickly pictured Jasmine, on stream, acting like a ditz. 

She shuddered. "I can't imagine how she must be feeling".

"Normal actually" said Dr. Morris. "The virus rewrites you completely. She knows she was Jason, she knows how she was before but to her, it's like waking from a dream. Her new life is her life now."

Taylor thought about that. "Why didn't it happen to me?"

Dr. Morris sighed. "We don't know"

Taylor caught on quickly. "And that's why I'm here."

Dr. Morris smiled. "You're a smart one." She picked up her pad again. "I want to meet with you twice a week for the next few months. At the beginning and end of your school week. Three times a month we'll also meet as a group"

"A group?" she asked, confused. 

"You and the other two" she said "Jasmine and Henry from your school and the two others from Huntsville".

Henry? So that's what happened to what's-her-face. She felt bad not remembering the other victim but they'd never met before. 

She also wasn't sure she was so thrilled about being in a room with Jasmine.

Her mother grabbed her hand, sensing her unease.

"We don't want to put pressure on you" Dr. Jones finally spoke. "We just want to better understand what's going on. Even after all these years, we still don't understand it."

The way she said "years" made it sound like this had been going on forever. Taylor was sure The Bug had only been around for a decade or so.

She decided not to press it. 

Ok" she finally said. "I think they might actually help honestly. There are some things I'd like to understand too."

Her mother patted her hand, the doctors smiled and nodded. 

The meeting ended there. Dr. Jones and Dr. Morris thanked her and her mother for their time. 

They left the hospital. 

"You hungry?" her mother asked.

"Starving," Taylor admitted, feeling her stomach rumble.

Her mother smiled. "I'll go get the car and bring it around."

As her mother walked off, a text message dinged. Taylor pulled out her phone, expecting it to be from Kayla or her friends. What she didn't expected was a text from an Unknown Sender. She almost didn't open it but curiosity got the better of her.

She opened the text and almost gasped as she read:

I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO BE GORGEOUS. 

A chill ran up Taylor's spine as realization dawned on her.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF