Mechanic - Suiting Up

“It’s like I said on the phone – it’s just making a rattling noise”, Michael said, feathering the throttle to demonstrate his point. The old engine growled, and as the revs decreased, there was a soft rattle that briefly filled the mechanic’s workshop before fading. “I was just worried it was something dangerous, you know?” he said, looking to the mechanic, Alex, who had her brow furrowed in thought. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know car stuff-“

“No, it’s fine”, Alex said, smiling, the woman taking the keys from him. “To be honest, it’s a nice change. Usually, I have guys walk in here and tell me exactly what’s wrong with their rides. They’re almost always wrong”, she said, smirking.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Michael asked.

“Probably. Once I know what the issue is, of course”, Alex said, opening the car’s bonnet.

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess”, Michael said, stepping out of the car. “Sorry I can’t be more help”, he added, sitting down on one of the chairs that were arranged on the edges of the garage for waiting customers to use.

“Don’t be. If you knew how to fix it, I’d be out of a job”, Alex said cheekily. Michael sat back and let the woman work. He looked over the magazines that were stacked on an old tool chest next to him – all filled with the kind of motoring jargon that washed right over him. He had never been a car guy, and it had never really mattered, except for now when his car had broken down. The mechanic, Alex, had come highly recommended. Michael appreciated her friendliness and the lack of the nonsensical masculinity that seemed to infect every other garage. Above all this, he knew she was good at her job. He watched her work curiously as she poked and prodded around his car’s engine with all manner of tools – the purpose of them lost on Michael. The woman muttered quietly to herself as she worked, testing out one theory, discounting it, before moving onto the next most logical one. Now and then, he heard the engine ticking over as she listened intently for the tell-tale rattling.

“Got it!” Alex said, delighted. Michael looked up from his daydreaming to see the woman grinning, slowly pulling a rod out of the engine block, the other end of it buried deep inside the machinery of his car.

“Got what?” Michael asked.

“The source of the rattling!” Alex said, grinning. The woman looked ecstatic. Michael realised then that she was in the right profession. That thrill of problem solving was what she lived for.

“What is it?” he said, coming closer.

“No idea. I’ll let you know when it’s out! Come see”, she said, nodding towards the rod that was slowly being removed, her oil-stained hands dexterous and precise. Gradually, Michael could hear a faint metallic jingling as the rod was removed. On the curved end of it were a pair of golden wedding rings, their shine piercing through the grime of the garage.

“Wedding rings?” Michael said, incredulously. “How did they even get in there?”

“Beats me”, Alex said, placing them in her palm. “Not yours, are they?” she asked.

“No, I’m not married. Even if I was, I don’t think I’d leave my rings inside the engine of my car.”

“Well, regardless of how they got inside, at least they’re out now. That should stop the rattling, I hope”, Alex said, inspecting the rings closer. She held one out to him, slipping the other easily over her oily finger.

“Oh sorry, I-“ Michael mumbled. Alex scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not proposing to you, get over yourself”, she said teasingly. “Besides, you’re very far from my type”, Alex added, chuckling. Michael laughed nervously, slipping the ring on.

“Thank, I guess”, he said. The ring slid down smoothly, as if it was perfectly made for his ring finger. “It’s weird. Maybe I’ll check the service history and get in touch with the previous owners? It could be their rings”, he said, attempting to pull it off. Alex did the same, pulling at the ring that was now firmly bound around her small finger. Despite the oil, they were stuck fast.

“How did it get on so easily but now I can’t get it off?” Alex said, frustrated, her fingertips slipping against the metal.

“I know, right?” Michael said, now somewhat concerned that the rings would neverget off. He gripped it tightly and pulled as hard as he could, his finger jerking uncomfortably with the motion. Just as he did so, his hand slipped, his elbow flying back and colliding with an oil can that Alex had left resting on the car. The spout spun round, covering his clothes with oil. Michael jumped back reflexively; his outfit now soaked in the dark liquid.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Alex said, quickly moving to stop any more oil pouring out.

“It’s fine! Honestly”, Michael said unconvincingly. He was covered in the oil, his hands now stained black, the perfect match for Alex’s.

“It’s completely my fault, I’m sorry. Do you want a change of clothes? I’ll get everything washed for you”, she said, gesturing to her back office. “There’s one of my old boilersuits you could wear.”

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea”, Michael said, following where she was pointing. Alex set about cleaning up the spill while Michael got changed. Closing the door behind him, he took off his once pristine shirt and jeans, folding them up as neatly as he could manage without smearing more oil across the fabric. He soon found the boilersuit that Alex had mentioned, coloured a dark blue and stained through years of frequent use. On its arm, he spotted the soft hues of the lesbian pride flag on a patch that had been carefully stitched onto the thick fabric. Keen to cover up as best as he could, Michael quickly slipped into the garment, pulling the zip up. It was surprisingly comfortable despite the difference in size between himself and Alex, the suit loose around his body but fitting well across his shoulders. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a mirror in the corner. He found that he surprisingly liked wearing it, enjoying the practicality of the garment. Michael headed back out to the main garage space where Alex was just finishing up with his car.

“There you go, you look great!” she said cheerfully. She tapped the bonnet of his car, the wedding ring still firmly around her finger. “I’ll get your stuff cleaned for you. I’ve got to run a few last checks on your car just to make sure the rattling is gone. It should be fine to pick up tomorrow, along with your clothes”, she said, twisting the ring around her finger. “Maybe I’ll find some way of getting these rings off by then, too.”

“Thanks, Alex”, Michael said. He left her garage, beginning the short walk home and leaving Alex to finish her mysterious work on his car.

Back home, the exhaustion of the day was overwhelming for Michael. The stress of his car breaking and the impending bill from Alex made him want to do nothing more than to just dive into bed. Taking off the boilersuit, Michael was about to dump it on the floor when instead he placed it upon a hanger, smoothing out the creases. As much as the suit was simply working clothes that Alex had given him in a pinch, he still felt a need to look after it. He slipped under the covers and drifted away to sleep.

In the garage, Alex finished her final checks. Though Michael’s car wasn’t anything impressive, it was still essential to his life, and she wanted to ensure she had done her job properly. With a final rev of the engine, she listened closely for the tell-tale rattling and a smile crept across her face as she realised it had gone. She twisted the ring on her finger once more, having quickly become used to the sensation of the cold metal touching her flesh. Giving the car an affectionate pat, Alex headed into her office where Michael’s oily clothes were still crumpled in a pile. Quietly humming to herself, the mechanic quickly checked the pockets, confirming they were empty, and loaded them into the washing machine. She had installed it years back with the intention of being able to wash her work clothes before heading home, but it was rare that she ever got the chance. This evening was like many others, where her workload seemed to creep into the hours she knew she should be spending resting. Starting a cycle on the washing machine, Alex watched the bundle of clothes swirling around almost hypnotically, before snapping out of it and beginning to lock up the shop.

As the clothes rolled around the tumbler, the oil was not the only thing to be shifting. Michael’s jeans, rough and reliable, began to soften, the denim thinning. Slowly, the seams began to unstitch themselves, reforming into a slightly different cut. They were still the jeans he knew and loved, but now the lower hem had been rolled up and restitched, with more room made around his rear. As they spun, the fabric stretched out, gaining a great deal of flexibility. The garment had been broken down and reformed, perfectly worn and sculpted for an altogether different body. The buttons of Michael’s dress shirt slowly disappeared, dissolving into the soapy wash of the machine. All that was left was the top few buttons. The sleeves rolled up, the excess fabric fading away more and more with each revolution of the machine. The material warped and shifted, losing its softer cotton touch, and gradually transformed into a comfortable polo shirt. Soon, the wash had finished, and an entirely different set of clothes was left to dry by Alex, unaware that they had changed.

Back home, Michael moved slightly underneath his covers. He slept deeply, the day’s events catching up with him. He moved rapidly from one abstract dream to another, visions of his car being repaired again and again, each time with different issues. Through it all, Alex was there. Somehow, in his dream, there was a sense of peace and tranquillity whenever he saw her. Strangely, he could feel a deep, caring bond between them, if only dreamt up by his imagination.

Wrapped up beneath his sheets, Michael’s skin began to soften. Slowly, the hair covering his chest, legs, and arms, all faded away. As he rolled across his pillow, Michael’s stubble similarly disappeared. Each strand fell out one by one, disintegrating as he rolled over in the night. His skin was left soft and smooth, his recently washed sheets feeling all the more comfortable on his newly sensitive skin. The hair on his head, once short and dark, grew slowly throughout the night. Still short, he was left with a functional, fashionable fringe. The most drastic change in his hair was its colour – his dark brown was gone, the new strands growing into a brightly dyed platinum blonde, bold and eye catching. Across his body, Michael’s proportions began to shift. As he slept, he stretched out, adjusting his position. Painlessly, his bones cracked and reformed. Michael’s shoulders slimmed down, losing some of their masculine broadness. One by one, his ribs adjusted, his whole torso reducing in size. With his hips, the opposite happened, his pelvis growing slightly wider. His legs elongated, his arms slimming in turn. The layer of fat that covered Michael’s body began to fizzle and disappear, slowly followed by his muscles. Much of the bulk of his body was gone, leaving him lithe and flexible. In his face, Michael’s jawline grew narrower. His lips thickened, his cheekbones raising up. The bushy eyebrows that had once sat proudly upon his face now grew thinner, perfectly groomed. In his ear lobes, two holes formed as if pierced many years beforehand. Finally, his manhood shrank down, reducing until it was the size of his little finger

By the time morning came around, Michael’s body walked the fine line between masculinity and femininity, being perfectly androgynous. While he had lost the broadness and bulk of his once fully male self, he had not yet changed completely into a more feminine form, though there were hints of it all over his rapidly changing body. Michael awoke drowsily, struggling to drag himself away from the night of interesting dreams. His eyes tried but failed to focus in the morning light, and he completely missed himself in the mirror as he went downstairs for some food. He had no plans for today other than picking up his car, so was determined to take things easy. Slowly, with his belly feeling strangely more full that usual, he climbed back up the stairs to his bedroom.

The boilersuit still hung in the corner of his room. He ran his hands over the fabric, not spotting his slimmer fingers caressing the material. He knew he should put on some other clothes to go pick up his car, but strangely he felt like he should slip into the suit once more. Wearing it the night before had felt weirdly comfortable. Growing in confidence, Michael slipped it on, pulling up the zip. Previously, the suit had felt well fitting, but now it was oddly loose across his body. He looked down at the patch, boldly displayed on the arm. Seeing it displayed so brazenly filled his heart with pride, and Michael struggled to understand why. Was he proud that Alex felt able to be so open about herself? Thinking of the mechanic reminded him of his car, no doubt filling up space that could be used by Alex’s many other customers. Quickly, he made his way outside and back to her shop.

“Hi Michael!” Alex said as the door to the garage rumbled open. She wheeled herself out from underneath a car, waving sweetly at him. “How’s it going” she asked cheerfully.

“Good, thanks”, Michael said, a little taken aback. Alex had always been friendly with him, but he hadn’t expected her to be so chipper at the start of the workday, particularly as it seemed like her work had already started. “Is everything sorted?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Alex said, standing up, confused.

“My car? And my clothes too”, Michael said, pointing at his old car at the back of the garage. “You said you were going to get something to try and get these rings off, too”, Michael said, tapping the golden band that was still stuck fast around his ring finger. Slowly, he could see the realisation washing over Alex.

“Oh yes! I remember. I’ll just go check your clothes are dry”, she said, heading out to the back office. Michael watched her go, surprised even more at her confusion than her cheerful attitude. He scratched at his head, his slightly longer hair feeling strange in his fingers, but he was still unable to notice it.

“Excuse me –“ came a voice from behind him. Michael spun around to find a kindly, elderly man standing there. “You said you’d change that punctured tire for me. Is everything okay?” he said slowly.

“Oh sorry!” Michael said, taking a moment to process the confusion. “I think you must be getting muddled. I don’t work here”, he said, smiling. The old man furrowed his brows, cleaning some dirt from his glasses with the hem of his jacket.

“Is that so?” he said, looking him over. “You certainly look like you work here”, he said, pointing at his boilersuit. Michael looked down at himself, realising that he looked perfectly at home in the garage. There were even some lingering oil stains in the creases of his hands from yesterday’s accident. He smiled sweetly at the man. He was old, and no doubt mistaken, but if Michael was able to take some of the burden away from Alex, perhaps she’d give him a discount? He was already anxious about the cost of the service, so any chance to sweeten the deal that he could find he was eager to seize.

“What was it you said was the issue? Changing the tire?” Michael said, walking over to the man’s car with a smile. How hard could it be?

Kneeling down next to the car, he could see that Alex had already prepared the new wheel. He had never changed a tire before, but somehow, the myriad tools and devices scattered around the workshop seemed far more intuitive than he realised. He found it easy to identify the puncture, digging out an errant nail that had buried itself deep within the rubber. Grabbing some chocks, Michael easily slid them beneath the wheels, instinctively knowing where to place them.

The older man was watching him over his shoulder as he worked, but Michael found that he was moving with surprising confidence. He easily popped off the wheel trim, setting it aside, and grabbed a wrench from the tool chest. Unthinkingly, he chose the correct drawer the first time. He loosened the nuts, feeling the slight pressure release. A part of him thought to remove them completely, but something told him to keep them on after loosening them, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

Sliding a finger underneath the edge of the car, Michael quickly identified the jacking point and slid the jack underneath to fit. When he had first brought his own car into Alex’s garage, the tools seemed to be scattered around without much care. Now that he was actually using then, he understood that it wasn’t messy, but instead a perfectly arranged palette of tools to work with. Everything was in the right place for the right job, but only if someone had been working in the shop for years would they understand the complex system behind the organisation. Michael smiled to himself as he stabilised the jack and began to raise the car up. Quietly, he thought that maybe he should have gotten into cars long before this opportunity had presented itself. He never knew it was so easy, or this fun. It was problem solving in its purest form.

“You’ve clearly done this before”, the old man said appreciatively.

“First time!” Michael said, smiling. The man scoffed jokingly, clearly not believing him. Michael didn’t have the heart to correct him.

Now, Michael loosened the nuts completely, finding that his hands wandered naturally to a pocket on the boilersuit to keep them for later. His arms felt more dexterous than ever, pulling the tyre smoothly off. He was barely thinking about his movements, the muscle memory now firmly in place. Grabbing the spare wheel that Alex had already gotten out, he lifted it up, slow but strong, sliding it onto the bolts. Grabbing the nuts from the pocket, he quick tightened them by hand. Pumping the jack back down again, the car was gently placed back on the ground. He fastened the bolts with the wrench, doing a final check for their tightness.

“Amazing!” the old man said. “That took you no time at all!”

“Thanks!” Michael said with a strange sense of pride.

“How much do I owe you?” the old man asked.

“I’ll just check with Alex – it’s her shop!” Michael said, politely squeezing past the man to go find the real mechanic. Walking through the shop, he began to take notice of the other vehicles all in various states of repair. Once, he would have perhaps only been able to recognise the manufacturer, but now he felt his mind filling with the knowledge that only a learned mechanic would have – the exact model, the year of manufacture, and even any quirks in the components that came with that specific production run. A car had been stripped down to just its chassis, but even without any identifying marks, Michael still could recognise it for what it was. As much as he was feeling more knowledgeable about the vehicles that surrounded him, there was another feeling growing: he needed to fix them. It wasn’t just a room full of cars and parts, but a room full of unfinished puzzles, the pieces as yet unknown. He could hardly bring himself to walk past one car, its bonnet open, knowing that he could somehow replace the carburettor that it so desperately needed in an instant. Even though he had changed the tire as a favour, it had given him a taste of Alex’s life, and he knew he needed more. He was just thinking about asking her for a part time job when the woman appeared from the office.

“There you are!” she said cheerfully, bringing him into a tight hug. “I was just looking for you!” she said, letting go of him.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, confused. Alex laughed, looking at him with an equal sense of uncertainty.

“What do you mean? Can’t I show a bit of affection?” she teased.

“Okay…”, Michael said, uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t mind, but I fixed that old guy’s car”, he said, gesturing back towards the man at the other end of the shop. “Just a simple tire change, nothing major”, he said proudly.

“Thank you!” Alex said, grinning. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

In an instant, Michael was in her arms once more. Before he had time to react, her lips had brushed his, and they kissed. It lasted barely a second, but Michael felt something change within him, as if a part of him had just subconsciously given in to something.

Blossoming out from the kiss in no time at all, Michael’s features changed. His face burst into a final flush of femininity, some subtle makeup appearing across his softer face. On his chest, his torso now tiny in comparison to his body the day before, his nipples grew suddenly erect, the warmer air inside the suit now feeling all the hotter. Fatty mounds built rapidly beneath them, and soon two shapely breasts were perky yet soft on his chest. His posture adjusted to accommodate the new weight. Around his hips, more fat built. The slim body he had awoken with was no more, now being flooded with hormones to build the curves that defined a more womanly physique. His thighs thickened, a layer of taut muscle that was well used to squatting to work on cars now covered in a layer of fat. It built further, more weight gathering around his rear until the curves were visible from outside of the boilersuit. Finally, just as Alex was about to pull away from the kiss, Michael’s manhood vanished, the diminutive member now gone, reshaping itself into a far more feminine organ. A slit opened up below, his testes sliding up and bursting painlessly inside him into ovaries. With it, another wave of hormones flushed through Michael’s system. Physically, there was nothing left of his once male sense. He felt the tender touch of Alex’s lips leave his own. He blinked slowly, feeling as though he was in a daze.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asked, concerned.

“Babe?” Michael said, before suddenly registering his voice was now higher: a gentle yet confident soprano. “What’s happening?” he said, looking around at the shop. It was exactly as it was before Alex kissed him, but something felt off.

“What’s wrong?” Alex said, now beginning to worry. Shakily, Michael’s hand went to the zipper of his boilersuit. He noticed his nails were now shining with gloss as well as oil. He pulled down the zipper, gasping when he saw the pair of breasts beneath.

“Woah!” Alex said, laughing, pulling the zipper back up. “There’s time enough for that later – we’ve got customers!”

Alex looked at his hands once more, turning them over in front of him. They felt like his own, able to be moved and twisted like he knew how, but they felt at the same time altogether different.

“Why don’t you go to the office and get yourself cleaned up?” Alex said, smiling as she passed him and made her way over to the old man, still waiting patiently by his car.

Slowly, Michael walked towards the office. His whole body felt strange, with an odd weight to it that jiggled and moved unexpectedly. He couldn’t stop staring at it as it walked, perfectly responding to his thoughts of movement, perfectly his own yet somehow someone else’s at the same time. Michael closed the door of the office behind him, glad that it lacked windows. He could still hear Alex’s voice, muffled by the wall, talking to the older man. She sounded warmer than before, her voice now almost soothing to his ears. Michael tried to put the changes out of his mind, reminding himself that he was just here to forget the clothes. He told himself that he should never had tried to fix that guy’s car, and Alex was just acting strangely. He’d just get his clothes, and head back home.

Michael’s clothes were hanging up to dry, but as he approached, he realised that they had changed too. They were the same style he remembered – practical, hardwearing, but now they seemed to have been cut for a very different body. Even without trying them on, he knew they would fit perfectly. There was a mirror in the corner of the room, and Michael knew that it was inescapable. Closing his eyes, he stripped out of the boilersuit. It felt like a comfort blanket that was being removed, leaving his body visible and therefore vulnerable, if only to his own eyes, alone in the office. Michael took a few moments to steady his breath – even his nervous panting sounding higher pitched than he had ever heard it. He was naked, his bare feet cold against the hard floor of the office. He could feel the chill of it seeping into his body, his hairs prickling into goosebumps. As each one moved, he could feel they were now positioned on a drastically different body. Michael opened his eyes.

Looking back at him in the mirror was a young woman, her face soft and pleasant, despite the flabbergasted expression that was locked onto it. Desperately trying to convince himself that what he was seeing wasn’t happening, he closed his eyes and opened them once more, but the reflection was still there. Looking down, so was his new body. He moved it slowly, watching as the reflection mirrored his movements. It was seamless. This was who he was now. Curious, he poked at one of his nipples, feeling the shiver of sensitivity as his neatly filed nails brushed against it. There was a sense of emptiness between Michael’s legs and leaning over he confirmed his suspicions. His body was petite, but there were traces of hard work within it – he could feel his muscles beneath the surface of his skin, small but strong. His hands were more calloused than ever, well used to holding and fighting with tools to complete his job. On the table, next to his clothes, he spotted his familiar wallet. Glad that at least that was still the same, he grabbed it. He slipped out his ID card but discovered that it had also shifted. His new face stared back at him from the photo. His last name was the same, but instead of Michael, he could see ‘Michaela’. Strangest of all, the card said he was married. Michael rubbed the ring around his finger. He had forgotten he had even been wearing it, and from Alex’s attitude, it seemed like she had too. Were they married?

Trying to distract himself, Michael picked up his clothes, slipping into them. The jeans felt comfortable, as though he was used to putting them on often, the denim conforming to his body. Pulling on the shirt, he was glad to find it covering his small torso well, no longer feeling as exposed. Hanging up the boilersuit, the pride flag feeling as though it was watching him, he picked up a simple pair of tough dungarees. He slipped them on, clipping them over his shoulders. Unthinkingly, he reached into the front pocket, finding a pair of simple hoop earrings that he somehow knew were his own. He deftly threaded the metal through his pierced earlobes and walked back over to the mirror.

This time, instead of confusion, he couldn’t help but smile. The panic he had felt earlier was gone. His body was feeling comfortable now that he was fully dressed for work. Deep down, he realised that he had been wanting this. The satisfaction he had felt working on the car earlier had lit a flame within him – he could work here all day. He blushed slightly as he remembered Alex kissing him earlier. He fiddled with the ring around his finger once again. If they were married in this new life, then all the better. He had always thought the woman was cute, but now they were more intimate than he could have ever imagined. Michael could still remember who he once was, but the woman in the mirror looked excited to try out this new life, and make new memories. Slowly, she nodded. This was her life now, and she couldn’t wait to live it.

“Sorry about that”, Michaela said, coming back out to the garage floor as her wife waved off their latest customer. “I think I just wasn’t feeling right.”

Alex smiled, wrapping an arm around Michaela’s waist.

“How about now?” she said with a smirk. Michaela kissed her, delighted.

“Couldn’t feel any better!”, she said, knowing that she meant every word.

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