‘And the consultant was meant to give me a quick check-up,’ I babbled to the taxi driver, ‘then I was meant to be discharged at three this afternoon. I waited all day, and I could have been sleeping because I’m exhausted. He turned up five hours late.’

‘Five hours?’

‘Just breezed in, jacket on, signed the report, said he would let me go. No apology. I’m catching the sleeper train. You were the only cab with your light on.’

He looked at his map. ‘Don’t worry, son. We’re well on track.’ So many firsts that day; I’d never been called son before. ‘How did the actual gene editing go? If you don’t mind me asking. What do you call it? A metamorphosis?’

I didn’t mind. I relished the opportunity to exercise my new, deeper voice. ‘The actual metam went great. They tell you how it can all go wrong. They have to cover their backs, of course, especially because I’m over thirty-five.’

‘I’m nearly sixty-five,’ he scoffed. ‘You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you.’

‘But I went in two days ago as a woman and now look at me.’

‘Nice job. Yeah, my niece had it done a few years ago. Took six days. She’s never been happier. I’d rather have a happy niece than a miserable nephew.’

‘Six days, huh? It’s come on a bit, even in the last couple of years.’

At Euston, I rounded up the fare to include a generous tip, grabbed my case, marched into the station, and found my train. ‘You’re lucky,’ said the ticket inspector, ‘we were about to lock and go.’

I’d paid for the cheapest cabins, which didn’t have their own toilets, so I first went to the shared one at the end of the carriage.

Standing at the toilet wasn’t alien to me. Many years before the metam became common, it was possible for any woman over 18 to have a procedure euphemistically known as The Mod, allowing her to use a urinal with accuracy. My generation was probably the first to see it as simply another rite of passage, like your first piercing or learning to drive.

The Mod came in many types, depending on your exact biology. For some, attaching a simple flap of skin was enough; for me, my urethra was rerouted through my clitoris. Regardless, it could be done with an unobtrusive gene edit.

As I washed my hands, I felt a few drops drip out of my new penis into my pants. There was still relearning to do.

Once my room door was closed, there was no opening it again until Edinburgh. There was only one task left.

I wouldn’t say I had an argument with my fiancée before I left, but we had a bittersweet goodbye. We ran a small chip shop, and she wanted to shut the business for a few days to come and support me. I understood why, but each day closed meant a chunk of takings lost, so I insisted we stay open.

I dialed the shop phone. She would always answer with, ‘Holly’s Home Fry. Would you like to place an order?’

I would always respond, ‘Deep-fried crocodile, and make it snappy.’

This time, she was taken aback by my new voice. ‘Um, Rosalind? Is that you?’

‘I know, it keeps taking me by surprise.’

‘Listen, I don’t have much time, but I’m glad you phoned because you’re one hundred percent right. It would have been madness to close. I know you can handle yourself. I hope we can draw a line under this.’

I felt a lot better hearing that, but I tried not to let it show too much. ‘Yes, of course. Let’s move on. How’s business?’

‘It turns out there’s some comics convention on tonight, and we’re packed out.’

‘That’s brilliant. Maybe I should let…’

Holly must have pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘No, no,’ she shouted to our assistant, ‘sausage for Pikachu, single fish for Dennis the Menace.’ She spoke to me again, ‘Sorry, it’s chaos. I’ll need to go. See you tomorrow morning at the station. That’s non-negotiable.’ She ended the call before I could say goodbye.

I took off all my clothes and lay back on the bed. Having touched my penis five minutes earlier, there was another erection coming on. The hospital had warned me this would happen while my body became accustomed to the testosterone.

Out of all the changes that had happened to my body, the one that made me feel most masculine was having a foreskin I could play with. My former clit hood had always been too snug for that.

My erection wasn’t going anywhere. I’d had my last two orgasms as a woman on the sleeper down to London, so it was only fitting to have my first one as a man on the way home. I quickly figured out the most pleasing speed and pressure.

I was simultaneously excited over what was about to happen and hit with the sudden realisation I would probably ejaculate. It only took a few minutes before I felt it coming on. I was always a screamer, even if I had to stifle it sometimes, but now I simply didn’t feel like making any noise at orgasm.

The hospital had said my sperm might take up to 24 hours to thicken. That first time, it was watery with only a few thick blobs, which ran over the head of my penis, the back of my hand, and onto my stomach. I reached onto the floor for a T-shirt and cleaned up as best as I could.

One of the few downsides of manhood is that I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that again for a while, whereas my female form would have gone straight back for another.

I must have fallen asleep before the train started moving. I was woken up after seven straight hours by a repetitive hammering on the door. I found the energy to sit up, momentarily expecting my non-existent breasts to slap into place. I grabbed the blanket and covered myself as I answered the door.

I had my head tilted down to avoid the harsh light in the corridor. I could only see a name badge reading Scott. ‘Ten minutes,’ said the ticket inspector, ‘we need the cabin vacated.’

‘Uh, thanks.’

Which reminded me I needed to pick a new name. I couldn’t keep calling myself Rosalind, and I ruled out any variations like Ross or Rocco, but I simply couldn’t settle on another one.

I quickly packed up my case and stepped onto the platform at Edinburgh Waverley. I heard other passengers muttering about the driver braking sharply at around 2:30am. I either didn’t wake up or didn’t remember it.

‘Rosalind!’ called a voice to my left. Holly held up her insulated thermal bag. ‘I hope you’re hungry. I’ve made your favourite.’

‘I haven’t eaten since the hospital.’

The next train would take us home in 20 minutes, giving just enough time to eat our bacon rolls. It was during that journey that I told her about my decision.

‘Scott. I want to be known as Scott.’

‘Is that a definite this time? I know you’ve had trouble deciding.’

‘It’s been on the shortlist for a while, then the guy on the train was called that, and I thought about it again. It’s definite for the moment.’

‘In that case,’ said Holly, ‘I hereby dub you Sir Scott McQueen. You’ll need to remember to react when people say it. I remember when I chose Holly, but I kept turning round when people called me Nathan.’

‘It’s weird, because I didn’t know you back then, and I wouldn’t have imagined you as a Nathan. I know you’ve got the pictures, but…’ I trailed off, not knowing where to go with that thought.

She nodded, having heard me say it a hundred times.

In an almost unspoken agreement, we both wanted to do one thing the moment we were home. Leaving our bags at the bottom of the stairs, we rushed up to the bedroom and kissed deeply. Before Holly could take off all my clothes, I closed the curtains and continued our kissing.

We lived in an old-fashioned terraced house that backed onto the neighbors in the next street, separated only by tiny gardens and a narrow alleyway. We could easily see into their windows and vice versa.

I’d been worried that my orgasm the previous evening would leave me without an erection, but the testosterone was doing its job, especially when Holly took the head into her mouth.

When she finally came up for air, she asked. ‘Did you ask for an extra-long foreskin? They’ve certainly given you one.’ Now we were no longer two women; it would also fundamentally change how we had sex. ‘I suppose that’s the end of our long sessions,’ she continued. ‘It all stops when you pop.’

‘I’m still tired anyway,’ I suppressed a yawn, ‘so maybe that’s not a bad thing.’

‘And I’ve got to open the shop soon, so I agree. You’re not working tonight, all right?’

‘I’ll be fine after a quick nap.’

‘No arguments.’ Holly liked to be penetrated from behind, so she faced away from me on her hands and knees. ‘I don’t care if the entire town wants chips.’

‘Fine, but I’m going back tomorrow,’ I said as I reached into a drawer and pulled out our strap-on. ‘No arguments.’

‘And where are you going to put that?’ she asked. ‘You’ve got your own now.’

I looked at it and realised what I’d done. ‘Sorry. Force of habit.’ I placed it back in the drawer and put my focus on hardening my penis, which had started to droop a little.

Without another word, I found my mark at the entrance to Holly’s vagina. It was easier than using the strap-on because I could do it by touch, and I simply wanted to sink into her. The sensation was similar to when she took it into her mouth, but deeper and tighter.

She moaned, but I still didn’t experience the compulsion to make any noise. I just wanted to push into her, then pull back and repeat the motion. After a few minutes, I placed two fingers on her clit so she could grind against them to give her an orgasm. That part hadn’t changed.

I suspected we might orgasm at the same time. Mine was rapidly building up thanks to the subtle tightening and release around my penis from her extra-wet vagina. I thrust into her more urgently and released my second-ever load of sperm. It definitely felt much larger than the first.

I was so caught up in my own orgasm that I missed Holly’s until she said, ‘That was different. I’ve never heard you not scream before.’

As a wave of tiredness washed over me again, I could only say. ‘That was amazing.’

‘One hundred percent agreed. I’ll need some tissues for this mess.’

I reached into the same drawer for the tissues and left the box on the bed for her. I thought I heard some voices in the alleyway, so I peeked around the curtains.

The high school was a blessing because the pupils were our best customers. Yet it was a curse when they used the alleyway as a toilet, being halfway between the school and the town centre.

I saw two schoolgirls in uniform urinating against our garden wall. Behind them, a male classmate was acting as a lookout and dishing out unsolicited advice. They must have been almost ready to leave education if they were old enough for The Mod, and definitely old enough to know better.

‘Everything okay out there?’ asked Holly.

We would typically bang on the window to disperse them, but as another drop of sperm dripped into my foreskin, I decided I would let them off this once, and only this once.

‘Scott?’ she added. The name sounded so natural; that was the moment I decided to keep it.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ I said. ‘I think I just need to sleep.’