Becoming Paula

I work in an office with 15 coworkers about 11 of them are women. I get along well with my coworkers and go out of my way to be helpful. I find it is more fun to work with friends than to work with strangers. My name is Paul and I work in an insurance claims office processing claims and making recommendations for our supervisor who signs off on the claims. In the office I am well respected and enjoy my coworker’s support. There is nothing I would not do for the people I work with. I also help my coworkers with their workloads when we are swamped, as I am a fast, accurate worker. I only wish that support extended to my life away from work.

I am basically a lonely guy once I leave the office. I can’t seem to impress women with my masculinity. I am 25, 5" 4' and about 115lbs with dark auburn hair and green eyes and I don’t cut a dashing figure, my voice even betrays me. My coworkers are more likely to refer to me as somewhat pretty, rather than handsome or dashing.

The “girls” as I call them at work often lunch with me. It is hard to believe but they treat me like one of the girls, and they involve me in their “girl talk.” You know what I mean they talk about clothes, makeup, sex and guys around me they will even elicit my opinions, but let some other guy sit down with us and the timbre of their conversation changes. They are more than somewhat protective of me from guys who use to poke fun at me. There is even a mother figure named Ginny, we all love her, she is about 38, and leads the “girls” in an assault against anybody who would torment any of us. She has read the company harassment riot act many times. Things settled down since I have proven my value and gained their respect or at least they fear the wrath of Ginny.

Our supervisor Charles encourages us to get to know each other when times are slow and anytime we are on break. The “girls” would often ask about how I was doing, my love life and family and such. It was easier for me to smile and lie saying things were great, and such.