#coveralls

Maybe you could write a story of the young apprentice mechanic , at first didn't like wearing gear and overalls , didn't like getting dirty covered in oil and grease , but who eventually just can't help himself and just becomes obsessed with gear and filth

Tusan tack.....Claasman

Hej! I gave it a try and wrote a story about it hope you enjoy! (I know some images aren’t mechanics, but I couldn’t find better ones)

The Apprenticeship 

When Jamie started his apprenticeship at the auto shop, he hated everything about it. The overalls were too heavy, the gloves stuck to his skin, and the smell of burnt oil clung to his hair no matter how hard he scrubbed. He’d wrinkle his nose every morning, stepping into the workshop like it was another planet. The older mechanic, Russ, just laughed. “Give it a month,” he’d say, hands black with years of work. “You’ll start craving it.”

Jamie doubted that. He’d grown up clean with smooth hands, pressed shirts, the kind of kid who’d wipe his shoes twice before coming inside. But the job paid, and he needed every cent for his college fund. Russ had promised to teach him “for real,” whatever that meant.

Jamie flinched every time a wrench slipped and scraped his knuckles. Every smear of oil felt gross. Russ noticed it and started his plan. “You’re getting there soon,” he said one day, clapping him on the shoulder. “You stop caring about staying clean when you start caring about doing it right.” Jamie didn’t think of it more than usual it was just normal workplace chatter, but he was wrong.

Small changes gradually started to enter his life. One morning, when Jamie came to work ready to change into work attire, he found his work pants and T-shirt being swapped for a dirty, oil-stained coverall. Of course, Jamie was confused where his clothes had gone, but he didn’t really have any other choice than to wear the overall, unless he wanted to dirty up his own clothes. Jamie emerged from the locker room and was quickly greeted by Russ. “Looking good, boy! The first step into doing it right is to actually wear the right clothes.” Jamie was annoyed and asked, “Where is my stuff then?” Russ answered, “I don’t know what you're talking about, but I sure hope you enjoy wearing my greased coverall.”

Jamie shivered at the thought of all the grease, but he still went on about his day, doing the tedious tasks that somehow felt faster this day. Soon enough, the workday was over, and Jamie headed back into the locker room to change back into his ordinary clothes. “God, I stink. Did I really get this dirty today? I really need a good shower when I come home,” Jamie thought, quickly changing and heading home. Later that same evening, after Jamie's shower, he couldn't help but still pick up that same musky smell. Of course, he was confused since he'd just showered, but the coverall’s musk had somehow penetrated deeply into his body, him emitting the stink like it was his to begin with. Unbeknownst to him, this was all part of Russ' plan to finally make this clean-cut, white-collar kid into a real working man.

The morning after, when Jamie woke up, he felt the bedsheets being stale from sweat, and again he stunk, but he’d actually gotten used to his scent. Jamie, who used to have a middle part and blonde hair, was met in the bathroom mirror with greasy hair, not his once pristine middle part, and an overgrown buzzcut. His blonde hair had also seemed to darken, taking on the same color as spilled oil on the garage floor. Regardless of all these changes, Jamie thought nothing of it it was for him like it had always been like that.

Later that morning, when he arrived at the garage, he hurried to get dressed in “his” dirty coverall, but Russ had other plans. He had already arrived and was dressed. He held an open bottle of ethanol and “accidentally” bumped into Jamie on his way out the door, thus spilling it all over Jamie. Jamie, of course, got drenched just when he was in only undies and socks. How could he work now? “Oh, I'm so sorry, boy! But you must hurry out of these wet rags. You know ethanol ain’t safe for the skin, and it's a hell of a safety risk going out there covered with highly flammable liquids” Russ said. Luckily, Russ offered Jamie some spare clothes, these being some not-so-clean white socks that were yellowed and darkened at the soles. The socks dangled in front of Jamie's face, and the stench he was hit with was rancid. “Ain’t had time to wash these, but they’ll do.” Jamie also got a pair of boxers.

He was left alone in the locker room to get dressed. While putting on the loaned boxers, he found them also not clean… signs of use could be seen by the stains, and these stunk as well. Having no choice, Jamie put them on, the stains feeling greasy against his junk, and the socks feeling slippery because of all the dirt. Jamie smelled and felt like a pig his once clean life felt so distant when he stood here, covered in stains and grease. He continued to get dressed, putting on his coverall and new boots. Russ had apparently left a pair of shiny black wellies for him to use. “I guess they're easier to clean?”

During the workday, Jamie couldn't shake off this sudden horniness. He kept getting hard by any friction, and when in crouched positions, it only worsened. Finally, he came in his boxers, this making him even dirtier and him feeling better the feeling vanishing instantly.

Oh, poor Jamie, how could he have known that this was all part of Russ's plan? Russ came from a family of men with widely different careers and talents, but every one having the same gift in common, the gift of reality warping. Each word and act towards Jamie was him bending the boy into the perfect workie. Soon he’d be done, and by Jamie cumming, he secured the changes; there was no turning back now.

Jamie had a brand new iPhone, and when he first started the apprenticeship, he'd show it off, taking pictures. But now, when he was ready to leave for the day, he felt into his pocket, finding a beat-up Samsung phone instead. The screen cracked, but this phone was perfect for a working mechanic like himself, right? The thought of it feeling wrong lingered in Jamie before it vanished; this being the normal. He didn’t have the money for a brand new phone, and why risk it getting trashed in the shop anyway? 

Jamie's alterations were soon coming to an and and later that night Jamie fell asleep, with one thing on his mind, Russ.

“Time to see my boy become a man, Jim the dim.” In Jamie's sleep, his legs lengthened and grew in size, leaving him with sturdy legs, his feet widened, and its musk only amping up. The changes didn't stop there; no, it spread upwards. Jamie's once lean frame filled out with muscle and fat, leaving him with a dadbod. His arms swelled, and his hands squared out. Jamie's fingers calloused, and his nails darkened with dirt. The young boy gradually was turning into a bigger man. Jamie's face squared out, and his face matured. The last change was Jamie's body, which quickly was covered in a tuft of hair, his pits filling out with greasy and stinky hair, his treasure trail growing in. No surface left untouched by hair. Jamie wasn't the same 21-year-old anymore; no, now he was 34 years old, not the brightest bulb… his colleagues calling him Dim-Jim. Jim woke up with a jolt he'd heard Russ’s voice in his dream. Something was different, but Jim didn't think much of it.

During the workday, Russ kept catching Jim huffing his pits and stroking his crotch. He also saw Jim sniffing his wellies. “A success,” Russ thought. He'd successfully turned the boy. Getting back into the locker room, Jim didn’t notice how his pristine clothes he'd once worn now were swapped to dirty, beat-up clothes his clean jeans now crust-grey sweats, his white sneakers now muddy boots, and a cap to top it all off. His car had also undergone some changes; gone was his Mercedes, and instead he found the key to a pickup.

Jim went out to the parking lot for the staff and jumped in the driver's seat. The car was messy, dirty gear everywhere, spare parts, and tools. The truck stunk of old food and BO.

Coming home to his apartment, he had driven elsewhere. He'd used to live at the nicer side of town, but now… well, he lived in a cheap condo. The interior reflected who Jim was now beer cans and Asian sides tossed on the floor. The place just as messy as his truck and his gear… but he liked it like that, right? He’d get aroused by the smell of musk, and his own feet made him hard. His wardrobe had certainly seen a shift all the clean and ironed shirts were swapped with stained workwear and athleisure. Sports gear was now his downtown uniform, and when he wasn’t working at the shop, you'd catch him in sweats and some type of gym shirt. Jim didn’t even own a washing machine. Why would he need that anyway? Jim loved the dirty grease anyway.

A few weeks had gone since Jim started his apprenticeship, and oh boy, had he changed. The coveralls didn’t just hang loose on him anymore. No, he proudly wore the greasiest one. His hands toughened and his mind dimmed. The smell of oil and metal wasn’t so bad after all, and the smell of sweat, feet, and hard work was definitely not bad!

“You coming to serve my body, getting in my musk, Dim-Jim?” Russ barked, Jim now following Russ' command like a dog. He loved his musk.

Gus can be pretty persistent, but he recognizes when he's fighting a losing battle. Even when that battle is against a zipper.

40% zipped is good enough in my books.

& me afterwards 💦