"Fire him!" Allyson's voice rose to a sharp, jarring punctuation, like she'd violently coughed the words instead of speaking them. "He's gross, rude, and belittles what we work on, and I refuse to work with him."

Gene rubbed his balding head and looked over the documented incidents Allyson had brought to his office. It wasn't as though he didn't know the kind of guy Randall had been since they met in college.

He gave harsh, stone-faced ribbings to all the guys around the dorm, then would walk it back as if it were a joke. Restraining his opinions and physicality was not something he did. He was the kind of dude who'd see you at the fridge, smack you on the back, and call you a piece of shit with a smile. But he also drove Gene several hundred miles when he needed a ride. For every insufferable, dickish move, he put up as hard as he wouldn't shut up.

But Gene knew things around the business had crossed a line. They always wanted to make an indie game studio. Randall had the engine tech down and could create whatever they needed with ruthless efficiency. But their first lead artist, Tammy, quit soon after Randall kept staring at her ass, called her work "Tumblr leftovers", and did a bunch of other little things like changing her bookmarks, which Gene didn't think was that bad but which she took pretty hard.

He had to admit that for every crude, untempered, and provocative suggestion Randall made, he also fixed everyone's computer when something went wrong, and he laid off during the days when things were rough and busy. Part of Gene wanted to tell Ally that she didn't know Randall like he did and that sometimes Ally and the other women on staff could be rather hypersensitive to the least little thing from a guy like Randall.

But he was the boss and the leader, and he knew he needed to keep in mind all the management groundings he knew and not the hunches of years before. It was rough. Randall was a vital part of the business, but his not dealing with his co-workers respectfully, treating the three women on staff differently, and leaving the only restroom smelling like a junior high gym locker added up to a high cost for the questionable benefits of keeping Randall around.

Even Brit, who was tough and gave as good as she took while playing along with ass slaps, said in the document that she was tired of Randall. Tracy's section was the longest and most intricately detailed. Skimming it, Gene agreed, "I will deal with it."

He called Randall in during one of his good moods, where he fussed with the stuff on the walls of Gene's office and gave him a hard fist bump before asking, "How is it going, bro?" Then he suggestively compared the UI design to a "satisfied kitten" with just enough leeway to keep it vague about what kind of pussy he was talking about.

As Gene got into the accounts, Randall scoffed, "I bet it's all micro-aggression bullshit. Dude shows the least bit of dominance, and some chicks clutch their pearls and roll in the aisles." Gene focused on the restroom matters, and Randall went a little quiet, wringing his hands.

"Okay...okay. I get a little fired up sometimes, and I can't always be master of my domain and all that. It's meditative. If they would rather join in, they are always welcome. But I need to take a break sometimes. It's not like I'm marking my territory. I keep things clean."

Wrestling with aggravation, Gene had to admit that Randall raised charismatic points. It was hard to argue with him like this. But the three ladies on his staff of fourteen, not including himself, were of one mind when it came to Randall.

He'd even seen sour looks from the other men, as they had degrees of acceptance for his demeanor. Some would go to bat for Randall; others would be silently glad he was gone. Gene wasn't certain where he fell. He just wanted this resolved as soon and simply as possible.

After that chat, he only admonished Randall and let him know that he was on thin ice. The rest of his day was spent avoiding Ally with her long, black sweep of hair and her "emu"-like appearance (as Randall jokingly characterized it). Randall also remarked how she had "no ass" in her "boy jeans" and that her top was like "hanging a white towel on a pointy rack".

Gene spent his evening and after-work time looking for some bathroom cleanser that might better mask or remove the aroma Randall left behind. Maybe something Zen and relaxing would help everyone get along better. He knew it was a hopeless hunt, but after several pages deep into Google, he came across something that drew his eye. Flush With Pride.

The prices were shockingly good, even for a wholesaler, and he noticed a focus on deterring peeing on seats and other things. The monthly rent included a discount clause if they replaced or repaired any of the main fixtures. And the low cost of buying on this site would be a net profit. Ordering everything he could, Gene made sure to add in a long-lasting, oddly-phrased industrial spray for cleanliness, physical management, and "enjoyment".

He held out on a staffing decision until everything arrived a week later. He puzzled over the "safe to install" markings and "targeted use" notes but got everything put together without much trouble.

The first couple of hours the next day had him on pins and needles about whether there might be some psychological or at least placebo effect. A certain energy did permeate the air, but Gene wasn't sure what it meant.

A few hours before lunch, Allyson was the first to really try out the remodeled restroom. She sat and did her business, enjoying herself and feeling lightly intoxicated by the new, fresh smell. But when she tried to get up, she found something warm and needy wrapped around her groin.

Before she could process the foreign sensations, they wrapped around her. It felt like a statue come to life, a porcelain person pulling her into their embrace. But instead of hard and cold, the presence was warm and intimately wet. It clung to her engorged clitoris and drew it out like a fleshy piece of taffy. With focused pleasure, she felt her entire groin turn inside out. Her labia puffed up and dropped with a new weight between the folds.

Though her heart raced in uncertainty, her immense clit was fast becoming something else. At a point of mind-melting, erect ecstasy, a gusher of a climax surged through her new organ and into the awaiting porcelain presence, which had taken on a supple, soft girlish shape with the statue form of an eager reservoir and jiggling breasts wrapped in an anonymous, encompassing bodysuit that resembled a statue.

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As Ally drove her hard cock into that attentive void, she vaguely reflected on the impossibility of her change as her white top slipped snugly across her broad, toned chest. When the semen freshly pumping from inside her finally felt depleted, she staggered over to the mirror and regarded herself.

A man looked back. He still had her long, dark hair, though not quite as long. Now over six feet, Ally realized her name was Aaron, and he felt really good in those boyish jeans. Brit and Tracy gave him looks that he'd never seen them give before. They still chatted, but the tone was subtly and immensely different.

For once, Aaron felt like Randall didn't matter anymore. He had a sharp retort for his sass and kind ones for the pair of ladies at his side. Things changed even more when Tracy and Brit had their own restroom encounters. Soon emerged Bryan and Terry. The three new guys were still as thick as thieves, driven to work, and just as talented.

Despite their changes, they still behaved much as they had before, with the same interests and personalities. Randall, however, noticed something was amiss but kept it to himself.

Gene, who also recognized that he now had all men on staff instead of three women among the rest, gulped as Randall slipped away to the restroom with a barely disguised tent in his pants.

His heart racing, Randall plopped on the seat and stroked himself through his pants before nervously lowering them. With all the warmth raging through his erect cock, it didn't take long before he felt a manly pair of porcelain-toned hands enveloping his shaft as more hands teased under his shirt.

Giving in to the cascade of sensations, he squirmed as the length of his hard dick dwindled to an aching love button adorning a slick, tight pussy with engorged, drippy lips. Riding the responsive, eager dick projecting from the fixtures, she leaned into the rough, kneading tease of her rising, bright nipples, her soft, pillowy flesh stretching further and further from her chest. She embraced the unrelenting assault on her senses as wave after wave of her first female orgasm crushed her ability to think of anything else.

When finally released from the torrent of sensations, she managed to finish her regular business with her girlish bladder and a dab of paper. On uneasy legs, she slipped over to the mirror. Just a glance at her girlish shape brought a shuddering reaction from her trembling thighs.

She was several inches smaller with her now-long brown hair pulled into a clean ponytail, with stray locks adorning her rounded, gentle features. Finally, she looked just how she felt. All the manly push, bitterness, and snark faded from her spirit. This is how she wanted to be all through college—a playful, coy, fun little nymph with delicate curves and thighs hiding secret feelings that threatened to explode. His fantasy whenever he jerked off was brought to flesh.

Just seeing her was enough to nearly wash away everything. And on top of all that were her black-rimmed, silver librarian glasses, which she could bite on and tease with her full lips. And her unassuming tan dress with white dots. Like the innocent girl next door with a fire in her belly that couldn't be easily extinguished.

She squirmed even more as she realized how easily she might be exposed to all the men right outside with the barely-professional hem of her dress. She ruffled it up slightly, and her heart raced at how close her intimate secrets were to being exposed. Her plump, delicate, dancer-like legs were completely hairless and felt like a sexual invitation on their own.

And then there was the deep dive of her cleavage. Suggesting a snug bodice without any protective support, her dress had the top two buttons undone, and she could envision undoing even more. About to lose all control of her raging libido, she did the buttons up and managed to slip on her tan pumps before daintily making her way out of the restroom.

Squelching a rogue realization that she had to use the ladies' room from now on, Randall went back to the office with a new but long-fantasized name in her life. She was Angie.

Demurely returning to her desk, Angie wrapped her soft thighs together tightly as she adjusted her glasses and managed to get back to work. Of course, the new guys gave her pert ass a few smacks as a quid pro quo, but they didn't expect the breathless, shy embrace of their behavior from the new and only girl in the office.

Though she still managed to get as much work done, Angie fought with the swelling, hot, blushing thoughts that she was indeed the only woman in an office full of guys with long, hard dicks. She drooled.

It wasn't even the end of the day before Aaron and Angie made a kind of amends in the broom closet.

Gene caught himself staring at Angie more than once, especially when she came into his office alone. The energy in the workplace was accelerated and yet focused. More stuff got done with such a cohesive plan of attack that he didn't even need to call a daily meeting to get updates, let alone set things right like he normally did.

At the end of the day, only the three former girls and Angie had changed, despite everyone but him using the remodeled restroom (he used the personal one in his office out of uncertainty). As everyone was heading off for the evening, Angie slipped into his office once more and casually sat right on his lap.

Flummoxed and nervously aroused, Angie planted a warm, lingering kiss on his lips as she said, "Thank you. Thank you so much. I finally feel...right."

She explained her rush of thoughts from the restroom and her entire lifetime of frustrations. He questioned if Randall was trans, but Angie shrugged and resolved that it was more "love of oneself as a woman". His heart was, in a certain way, rough and bitter. But the notion, joy, and fantasy of being a woman felt not only like his true self but also the balance of her being. Gene didn't know what the difference was between that and trans, but he accepted Angie's explanation.

Though she ran her hands over Gene's still confused body, she restrained her full sexual feeling to a simple kiss and a repeated thank you. Playfully, she wondered if the former ladies would return to women, hoping that Aaron would choose to stay. And she also wondered whether Gene might have some secret love "she" wanted to release too. Or perhaps one of the "other sexy boys".

Giving back ownership of Gene's lap, she waved daintily and said goodnight.