Can a fly change its gender?

Story: It starts as a prickling sensation on your skin, a strange unease that's almost as if you're wearing clothes that don't quite fit you. It's a disquieting feeling that drives you to glance at your reflection, where you realize you are no longer recognizable. You look down at your hands, or where they used to be. Instead of skin, there's now a hard exoskeleton, a glossy sheen of enchanting emerald green on the surface. It grows more intense, compelling your attention as human fingers fuse together, shrinking. They become minute, transformed into six hairy segmented legs, belonging to a creature that was not you, not anymore. A cold, instinctive panic grips you, but your rapidly altering brain soon suppresses it, adapting to your new existence. The changes continue, and it seems it's beyond your control to stop them. Looking further away from where your stomach used to be, you see a large and swelling form attached. It's your new abdomen, in a grotesque parody of human pregnancy, growing from your own body. Confusion, real and utter, grips you. An abdomen? The word seems strange, an echo from a world that you are rapidly leaving behind. In no time, you can feel an odd protrusion developing on your face. It stretches out, a slender tube-like structure - a proboscis. This sensation is strange yet so very natural, like telling a dog to fetch a stick. You test your proboscis, a newfound tool for feeding, and the sweet smell of nectar fills you with a nauseating hunger. The room where you stand begins to morph and ripple, as if you're looking at it below a water's surface. Blinking might have helped this in the past, but now you no longer have eyelids. Your eyes have changed too, replaced by multi-faceted red eyes of an insect, a striking scarlet in contrast with your green body. You can see the world in a whole new perspective, a wide-view angle seen in miniscule details. For a moment, it overwhelms you with its complexity, but the adapting mind finds it all so natural, just another part of a rapidly solidifying existence. The strangest sensation is possibly the growing feel of wings on your back. They are frail yet sturdy, capable of carrying you off. Subconsciously, your new mind knows just how to test these wings, guiding you to flutter them. The process is intimidating yet exhilarating, a sense of freedom in the inexplicably small size you've become. And then comes the changes no mirror could reveal. Deep beneath the physical transformation, your memories begin to shift and alter. You remember puddles of sweet excreta, the colors of rotting fruit. The searing sun and the chilling winter, both avoided in the safe dark nooks of a tree or a wall. Your childhood images of school and friends are replaced by memories of wriggling through maggot masses, competing for the precious little nourishment. Somewhere, you know you've changed. But any regret or doubt no longer plagues your mind. All you can think about is the delicious rot of a fallen apple nearby, the sweet smell drawing you in, the hunger compelling you to feast. You glance again in the mirror. No trace of a human figure remains. It's just a common green bottle fly, your new form is now your only form. You accept it. After all, you are a green bottle fly now, Lucilia sericata, the king of your own miniature world!