The Gender Wave had flipped the world on its head — a spontaneous, irreversible shift that turned every man into the female version of themselves, and vice versa. For some, it sparked panic. For others, reinvention. For Jacob and Chelsea, it changed everything.
Jacob had been the first to adapt. Within days, he was already figuring out what clothes felt best, how to work with his new voice, and how to style his now-long hair. The curves were unfamiliar, sure, but he embraced them with surprising enthusiasm. He wasn’t just coping — he was thriving. And, to Chelsea’s surprise, he’d even become more curious, especially when it came to the bedroom.
Chelsea, now taller and broader, still hadn’t gotten used to the scratchiness of facial hair or the weight of her deeper voice. She played along when Jacob—now soft-voiced and wide-hipped—nuzzled into her, asking to explore new dynamics. She gave in because she loved him.
But afterward, when Jacob was asleep, Chelsea slipped out onto the porch, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers.
The night air was cool, and the neighborhood was still. She stared up at the sky, wondering if the stars had shifted too, if anything would ever feel normal again. The porch creaked slightly as she leaned against the railing, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. Her hands—big, veiny, foreign—tightened around the cigarette.
Jacob seemed so happy. He looked at her with a new kind of hunger, a twinkle in his eye that hadn’t been there before. But Chelsea? She felt like a stranger in her own skin, and no matter how many times she smiled for him, it wasn’t real.
“I hope it reverses,” she whispered to the night. “God, I hope it does.”
Inside, Jacob stirred slightly, mumbling something in his sleep. Chelsea stayed outside a little longer, letting the silence speak the words she couldn’t say.
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