The Font

The internet is a wonderful thing, a veritable Font of Knowledge. It can give you hope, it can give you grief, it can inform you and dis-inform you with equal ease. I was born after it became used world-wide, and I never knew a time without it. I also had to bear the name picked out for me, whether I was a boy or a girl, I would be called Nimbus. They had decided that I would be their halo of light, blended with a flying broomstick. They had read the Harry Potter books several times.

I was raised by parents who received their parenting information on the screen. I was pre-schooled by playing educational games that kept records of my favourites and gave my parents advice on what sort of school I should go to. They were totally surprised when the girl’s school rejected me because I wasn’t a girl! They hadn’t bothered to check the result. I suppose it was inevitable, they were both history teachers in different schools. Their heads were often in the clouds, perhaps Nimbus ones!

I didn’t mind the school I ended up in, a co-ed establishment that believed that every child was created equal. The first couple of years are ones I remember most. They were filled with games, craft, messy painting, and a lot of laughter. The only computers were small things with no connection and were only good for watching ‘educational’ cartoons.

After that, things got more interesting, spoiled by having to learn things about non-related subjects, like the sciences, English, maths, and the like. Very few of the computers had connection, and these were strictly monitored. It was only when I got into higher education that I was let loose on an up-to-date piece of equipment. It was still limited in what you could look at, though, but was still better than the one I had at home. My school life was normal, for a skinny nerd. I made almost equal numbers of boy and girl friends. I also made a few enemies of both sexes.

My name was like a millstone around my neck. My detractors referred to me as Nimby, as in ‘not in my back yard’. That was funny, because their parents would ask if they would invite me to parties and when their child stated ‘Nimby!’ I would get the invite. I didn’t go to a lot of these and became quite adept at sending notes to say I was sorry, as I had another engagement. This gave me a reputation among the various parents that I must be someone who was so busy I might be good to know, so increasing the tensions at school. That’s when some of the bullies started calling me Ninny.

One boy was my nemesis. Stevo was a large lad, two years ahead of me, and kept trying to catch me alone to beat me up. I knew of this and made sure that I was never alone, or out of sight of a teacher. One day, it got too much for him. We were in a corridor when the other children went into the various classrooms, leaving him and me alone. He snarled that he was going to beat me to pulp and made a move towards me. I thought that I might surprise him, stepped forward and gave him an almighty shove, just as several students and a teacher came into view.

He always wore sneakers with the laces trailing. I had, unwittingly, stepped on the laces of his right shoe. He went to step back and, unable to move his leg, fell over onto his back, hitting his head on a cast-iron radiator on the way down. The teacher moved towards us as he lay there, starting to shake. One of the older boys was sent to ring for an ambulance as I helped the teacher save the bullies life. The teacher took a biro out of his pocket and put it between the shaking boys’ teeth, and I was told to make sure it stayed there. The paramedics arrived and took him away on a stretcher.

I got detention for rough housing. I also got a new nickname from the students who had seen the event. It was decided that, as I had defeated a bigger opponent, using nothing but his own laces and a school radiator, I would be known as ‘Ninja’. That one was one I could work with, and it followed me through the rest of my time in secondary school.

I did well enough in fourth year to get a commendation and that led to a concerted plan to force my parents to get me a computer that would enable me to become the genius that they always thought I was. I didn’t disappoint them, graduating with high marks and then going on to university. It was there that I discovered another world.

It was a world where you didn’t learn by rote but had to research your way. I was studying computer science, with electronics on the side. One day, a bit tired, I went to look up the definitions of ‘transponder’ for an essay, then found myself looking at a whole page of links for ‘transgender’. This was totally new to me. I had got this far, being myself. I never had any idea that you could be unhappy in your body. I never considered myself as a sportsman but had not thought that I was effeminate. I was just me, liking aspects of pastimes of both sexes. I cooked, repaired my own clothes, got drunk and damaged those same clothes.

I read through the listing, looked at some of the definitions, and then looked at the story sites. I lost an afternoon reading about boys wanting to be girls. I realised that I qualified to be similar on many points. I didn’t like the Superhero stories, or the mystical ones. I did read several school age ones, mainly set in America, but there were a few that were set in the UK that I could appreciate. I determined that I would ask my study group about this, the next time we met.

I was in a small study group. There was only four of us, two boys and two girls. The other boy, Garth, was a quiet lad, but totally on top of the electronics courses. He helped me with these, while I helped him to make his way around computer programs. The two girls were doing the computer course. We met on a Wednesday evening, at the home of one of the girls. Her parents had set aside a room for her study which took the four of us with ease. She, Lynnette, was determined to make her mark as a leader in the new world of computer entrepreneurs. The other girl, Sherry, was equally as determined, her speciality being computer-aided graphic design. As a foursome, we had socialised, going to the pictures and to parties, but had never paired off, being more like good friends, or even brothers and sisters.

We each had our own specialities. Garth was, of course, very good at building electronic equipment, and had supplied all of us with equal computer systems that rivalled the best around, built on a budget. I was trying to develop apps and games, knowing that they could lead to income. Lynnette was taking Business Studies on the side and was gaining all the knowledge that she thought would allow her to create a successful start-up. It was just that she hadn’t yet developed any idea of what that start-up would do. Sherry was well set in her specialisation, working part time for an advertising company, creating TV adverts and print designs.

The Wednesday we were next together, I waited until we had sorted out all of the study problems that had cropped up. Lynne’s mother had brought in hot chocolate and some biscuits, our usual wind-down from the hard work.

“Friends,” I started. “I found myself, entirely by accident, on a website that gave a lot of links to transgender sites. When I read some of the things, I realised that I had a few character traits that would mark me as a candidate. I’ve never considered it in my life, before, but, when I was turning five, my parents took the advice of a kiddie’s program that I would play with, and it suggested that I should go to a girl’s school.”

“Boy, Oh boy, Ninge,” laughed Lynn. “The two of us have often wondered if you dressed as a girl, in private. You have a lot of ways about you that makes you seem like one of us. Sometimes, when we have been out, barmen would wish ‘us girls’ a good evening, including you and Garth in the girls part.”

I looked at Garth, who was blushing. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“If we’re clearing the air, I have to admit that I have borrowed some of my sisters’ things when I was home. I haven’t done that since I’ve been here.”

“Well,” remarked Shelly. “We certainly have changed the dynamic, tonight. In advertising it is called a shift, when you take a well-known product and launch it as something new, with new packaging and a new use. This is often accompanied by new wonder ingredients, things that all similar products include, but no-one spoke about. What are we going to do with this new information? If you want to try to see what life is like on the other side, I’m sure we could all help you.”

“What fun,” giggled Lynn. “We could go out as a group of girls and see what you think of it. You two are not brutish guys, that’s why we are friends. My mother thinks that we’re both as safe as houses around you. She asked me once if you were both queer. I had to tell her that I didn’t think so.”

“Well, thank you for that. Unlike Garth, I never had a sister to tempt me, if I had I don’t think that I would have even thought of it. I’m not sure about going out as a girl, though. Wouldn’t it take an awful lot of preparation?”

“Yes,” commented Garth. “But you can work up to it in small doses. Shaving your body is one, growing your hair longer is another. Make-up and clothes can only enhance a person who thinks that they’re all girl. Anything less will lead to be beaten up in an alley, maybe anally raped. I’ve never gone out dressed, but it’s something I’ve dreamed about for years.”

Lynn, being the Managing Director in the making, stood up.

“Right, I’m going to tell my mother not to bother us for a half an hour. She trusts you, and I’ll tell her that we’re working on a secret project for our future. While I’m away, the two of you should strip down to your boxers, so we can get a baseline of your measurements. You’ll also get a girls’ advice on how to look after your bodies better. Sherry, there’s a tape in the top drawer on the left.”

When she got back, the two of us were standing with just our socks and boxers on. Sherry had coaxed us as we started to strip, very slowly. Over the next thirty minutes, all of our measurements were taken. With the two columns complete, we were allowed to redress, then instructed to make sure we had shaved all over when we came back, next week.

Garth and I walked back towards our digs, together.

“I never realised that you thought yourself as a girl, do you have a girl name?”

Garth blushed. “I’ve always thought of the female me as Greta. What about you, now it may be needed.”

“That’s easy, I can be Nina, the pretty ballerina.”

We both laughed at that, but that was the first solid bit of my new personality.

When we got to his door, he stopped and turned to me.

“Ninge, do you shave with an electric or a blade?”

“What little I do is with an electric, it also has a trimmer.”

“Good, next Tuesday evening, use the trimmer on your pubes, and any other long hair, then use the electric all over. On Wednesday, come here and I will check you out and pick up any stray hairs with a blade. I’ll get a new can of shaving cream. Then you can do the same for me. That way we might impress the girls with our dedication to the cause.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“All my life, Ninge. Trust me, I’ve planned something like this for years. It’s just that I never thought that I could finally have the chance to do it. With two genuine and beautiful girls to help, it’s like a dream come true.”

I continued to my place, wondering how I got from admitting to watching a computer site, to be now starting on the path to go out into the wild world as a girl. It haunted my thoughts for the rest of the week, even as I did my midnight to dawn shifts at Maccy Ds on Friday and Saturday night. These paid well and didn’t intrude on my study. It also gave me quiet times to think about designing apps.

Whenever I had some time to spend, I used it reading more stories. I found that I didn’t like the ones with lots of anal sex or physical and mental abuse. There were plenty that were written by authors who must live in rose-tinted glasses, so sweet they were sometimes syrupy, but usually gentle. I got well ahead of the process, learning a lot about female underwear, outerwear, and make-up along the way. I approached that Tuesday with a sense of adventure.

After studies, on Tuesday, I made sure my door was locked, stripped down and stood over a wastepaper basket with my razor in my hand. I used it to trim my pubes back to short hairs, and the used the shaver part on my arms and legs. I understood why I needed to see Garth as I just couldn’t find a way to get to my back. I would do my face before I left on Wednesday. That night, I found a whole new feeling of sensitivity, as my pyjamas rubbed against my newly shaved parts.

Wednesday evening, after a second shave to my face. I walked to see Garth. He let me in, wearing a dressing gown.

“I thought that you could check me out, first, then I can get dressed. Here’s the safety razor and the can of cream. Be careful with that, a little goes a very long way.”

In his room, he dropped the gown and stood there naked. I could see that he had problems with his back as well, which I rectified. There were also places on the backs of his legs that still sprouted. After I had declared him hairless, he wiped himself and got dressed, as I stripped. I have to say that it was an odd moment for me, being in a room with a naked guy. It was as if we were baring our souls to each other. Once he had found my own errant hairs, I dressed and we walked towards the house, where our futures could well be shaped.

When we were let in, Lynn stopped us before we went in for the study.

“Guys, I realised that we couldn’t do this and keep it secret, so I have told Mum what we plan to do. She has agreed that we could get semi-naked together and wants you both to promise not to use the occasion to get up to anything she wouldn’t want us to.”

We both promised her mother that our thoughts were entirely towards becoming passable girls. Upstairs, Sherry was waiting with some packages.

“Guys, we have bought you a few things that you will need. You can pay us for them. All we plan, for the next few weeks, is for you to get comfortable as girls-in-waiting.”

We had to strip, completely. So much for the semi-naked promise! The girls carefully inspected our bodies and declared that we had done well. We both stood there, with our manhood doing absolutely nothing untoward. That was something I found extremely odd. From the packages, we were supplied with panties, which we were ordered to put on, keeping our penis down between our legs. It was amazing that I saw just a smooth front when I looked down.

Then came matching bras. Filled with silicon fillets, they changed my outlook completely. It was the turning of a corner. Over the top, we were given shift dresses to wear.

“Now,” Sherry grinned. “You now have to move without bumping those breasts into things, like half opened doors. You will have to sit like a girl, so that you don’t flash your panties. That’s enough for the moment. I think it’s time to study.”

It was surreal, working through the week’s problems, all dressed similarly. After a while, both of us guys started to relax, so drawing comments on slipping out of character. When Lynns’ mother brought us our drinks and biscuits, she commented on how well behaved we all were, and that she could see a sleep-over coming up. One of the things that I could see, straight away, was that the two girls were more open with the problems that they were having. Even Greta was admitting to some deeper problems. When we left, we did so, still wearing our bra and panties, carrying the packages that contained extra sets, in different colours, a change of shifts and a couple of our own nighties. The last was a revelation, that night, against my sensitive skin.

Over the next few weeks, we continued as we had started, wearing the underwear on the way, and changing into a dress when we got there. We paid for what we had already received, and Lynn had given us a list of the things we would need as we went along. We paid a bit each week so that it didn’t take too much out of our savings. Every time we met, Greta became more dominant, leaving Garth behind, to the extent that he had to be careful at the uni that he didn’t drop into Greta in class. I didn’t move as fast into being Nina, but, there again, I didn’t start at the same point.

As the weeks passed, we were subjected to skirts and blouses, camisoles and slips, stockings, and tights, until we were comfortable in everything. Then we were being made-up as we got there, and had it removed as we left. As we both became more feminine, the dynamic in the room changed. I found that I was listening to the girls closely, not only to discover how to talk like them, but also because they were being more and more open. We learned more about their thoughts and characters than if we had been lovers.

The only things left for us was our hair, our ears, and shoes. That’s when we started to meet on a Saturday and Sunday afternoon. We would be dressed, made-up and went out, together, to walk the shops, go to the cinema, watch the guys playing soccer in the park. We did this as four girls. We laughed, we talked, we passed judgements on other girls and their outfits. We even spoke about the boys we had seen, especially the ones who had approached us with other things on their little minds.

During the break between terms, I called my parents to tell them that I was staying put. They didn’t seem to mind. I spent the whole break as Nina, giving up my shift at the fast-food joint and getting a summer job with Greta, working in a dress shop that had a section for cross-dressers. We both made good money, with bonuses, as well as being tipped by our customers for being such thoughtful girls. At the start of our final year, we both informed the uni that we would be coming back as transgender students, and the paperwork was altered to suit. By this time, we both had a good range of clothing, made regular visits to a salon, and sported more than one piercing in our ears.

It was in that final year that our thoughts gelled. Our study nights became planning sessions. One of the things that had come out of being so open with each other, was that we had been able to express our dreams. That’s how we discovered that we had something that would allow us all to achieve what we wanted.

Lynnette registered us as a business start-up, and we got some funding from the city. We rented a couple of rooms in an incubation building and bought some furniture. We had become ‘Compuslang’. The slang bit standing for Shelly, Lynn, Nina, and Greta. Greta and I had developed a way to build a computer using SSDs linked with the latest chips to speed them up. We also developed a similar way to build server that didn’t take up a lot of room but was able to store a huge amount of data. I had developed an app, called My Town, that started out as a downloaded phonebook of the city retailers, adding website links. We only included our immediate area, as a start, to make it easier for us. Shelly provided the graphics and Lynn made sure we didn’t overspend as she went about expanding our footprint.

The income would be derived from users paying for information as they accessed it, just a few pennies at a time. We sold the new computers with yearly access to the app, paid by credit card into the future. We provided the app, free, to those with smart phones. We got income from the businesses that paid us whenever their services were used. The retailers loved it because it only targeted the local area. Each bit of income was small but added up to a reasonable amount. It all had the added bonus of being the subject to our final thesis.

When we graduated, we all got commendations. My parents, and Gretas’ parents were surprised that their sons were collecting their papers as girls. Gretas’ telling her that they had suspected it all along, seeing the mess he had made of his sisters’ wardrobe. Mine took it all in with a chuckle. That night, we all had a celebratory meal at one of our best customers’ restaurant. It was a good night, and all of the parents were brought up to speed when Shelly’s father asked her what she would be doing now she had graduated. That was when we explained that we four were directors of our own company, and that we were now about to expand.

I had developed the algorithm to work through the retail details of any city, add all the relevant links and create a My Town site that would work there. We now had the time to move outward from here. We had some five hundred customers that had bought our computer, and sales continued to climb as they made sure that their friends knew how good they were, as well as how handy it was to have quick links to eating places, cinemas, sporting arenas, theatres, and a whole gamut of shops, all within walking distance, or at least a short bus ride. On top of that, we had several thousand users of the app who bought enough to make our retail income extremely healthy.

We were not going to do the expanding ourselves, and Lynn had developed a ‘SlangTown’ franchise model, which we could sell to interested parties. With our own finances as an example, we had no problems getting the first few on board. We, at ‘Compuslang’, would trouble-shoot on demand and supply updates to the programming as they developed. Otherwise, it was up to the franchisee to sell the computers and buy the servers that we now had a third-party building for us. Each server was called Nimbus, genuine cloud storage.

Once the system was up and running, Greta had time to go through the complete transition, and, once I had perfected the algorithm, I had time to follow. Four years after we had graduated, we were faced with the problem of developing our model for foreign language sites. The four of us appeared on the front page of Time Magazine as examples of what women could do in what used to be a man’s world. That led to lots of people wanting to speak to us, and, inevitably, we all found guys who were as savvy as we were, and who we were happy letting into our world.

All four weddings made the pages of a magazine, each of us looking radiant, and our husbands all looking good. Of course, only two of us could have children, and they both excelled themselves at that. I know that I hadn’t gone down the path that my parents had expected, but I, like my friends, was happily married and very well off. The My Town model became more popular than Google, because it was aimed at a smaller area. If you wanted to find out about other places, all it cost was a single usage fee, and you were getting the information as if you were a local. The data was kept locally, as well, and was less subject to hacking.

With the whole thing now run by our franchisees, we had time to start looking at other avenues, the second project always being harder than the first, as it requires more imagination to invent. We came up with our version of the cheerful assistant, which we called Val - Virtual Autonomous Lackey. We used our skills to put a powerful computer into a small box, with just speech recognition, a speaker, and its own internet connection. It had a lot of information on board, as well as the latest My Town app. You could pre-set it with male or female voices, old or young, and with the accent of your district. It would fit into a range of items, from table lamps to teddy bears. When you asked it a question, it would give you only the local information unless you asked it to search further afield. Added to our existing range, it sold like wildfire. It also caught the attention of a multi-national, who bought Compuslang for several million pounds, thus setting us up for life.

As I said, the internet is a wonderful tool, but the trick is in using that tool to complete a specific job, and it certainly doesn’t help when you are confronted by lists of websites from all over the world. My Town took care of that, and, I have to say, took care of me and my friends, as well.

Marianne Gregory © 2023