The New Flu

In recent years, the world barely had time to recover between outbreaks. First it was the avian flu, then swine flu… and now, something people had started calling “the gender flu.” It wasn’t an official term, but it caught on — because that’s exactly what it did: it altered a person’s biological sex, permanently. Raymond was one of the many who got infected, and like so many others, his life was completely turned upside down.

When the symptoms passed, the mirror reflected a new reality: a female body, soft curves where there had once been sharp edges, a gentle voice replacing his deep tone. At first, it felt like grief — not just for the body he’d lost, but for the sense of control, the stability of self. And then came the harshest news: scientists revealed that once the transformation took place, the body developed strong antibodies. Reinfection — and therefore reversal — was impossible. This was his new normal.

The world went into quarantine again. Research teams worked nonstop, theories exploded across the internet, and people protested in the streets. But Raymond, locked inside with nothing but time and his reflection, felt something unexpected growing — a strange kind of curiosity. He caught himself spending more time in front of the mirror. Experimenting with clothes he never would have touched before. Something inside him was shifting — not entirely by choice, but not entirely against it either.

That’s when Tony called.

Tony, his best friend since childhood, had also been infected. He said his girlfriend broke up with him during a video call. She saw what he’d become and simply hung up. Raymond felt something tighten in his chest — and decided to go visit. It had been over a month since his own infection, well past the contagious stage according to the latest studies. And Tony clearly needed someone.

Raymond chose his outfit with unusual care. A bold top, maybe a bit revealing. And underneath… something delicate and lacy. He didn’t overthink it, just followed an impulse. Maybe it was about feeling confident. Or maybe he wanted to be seen. Or maybe… something else he couldn’t yet name.

Their reunion was quiet at first. Awkward. Tentative. But old friendship has its way of cutting through discomfort. Over shared memories and a little wine, the space between them slowly changed. Words gave way to silences that said more. By the time the night ended, something unspoken had happened — something that neither of them felt ready to define.

The next morning, they lay side by side, thoughtful. Not exactly in love, but not confused either. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t denial. It was something gentler — a sense that their friendship had adapted once more. That maybe they weren’t boyhood friends anymore… but something just as strong, just as lasting.

In the end, they wouldn’t become boyfriends. They’d become best friends again. Or rather — best girlfriends.

And in a world that had changed so much, that might be the most solid thing either of them could hold on to.