Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2007 22:49:56 -0600
From: stories@mudcub.com
Subject: Garage Monkey - Part 1

Garage Monkey - Part 1

by Mudcub

stories@mudcub.com

I started working at Naylund's Garage when I was seventeen. That was the
summer my dad decided that I had to "earn my keep", and I couldn't sit
around all summer waiting for school to start again. It was my dad who chose
the garage. I think he looked around for the nastiest dirtiest job he could
find. I'm serious.

My dad brought his car into Naylund's whenever it needed servicing. So he
knew what a pit the place was. Maybe it was a nice clean garage in the
1950s, but now it is a reeking pit. The walls haven't been washed in years,
and there is oil splashed all the way up to the ceiling. The floors never
get mopped or swept. the mechanics just wait until the grime washes down the
drain on its own gravity. And the men are even dirtier.

There's Lloyd, the head mechanic. He always wears the same uniform every day
- a pair of coveralls that might have been blue at one time, but now are
stained black with all the grease and oil he works with. The coveralls were
zipped halfway down to the guy's belly, showing off a patch of thick black
hair on Lloyd's chest. The man must have been half gorilla! Of course, that
chest hair was almost smeared with filth and grime, as if the man never took
a shower.

I can't describe the body odor of the man. He smelled worse than any locker
room I had ever been in. and this was just by himself. He smelled like
stinky feet and old cheese over the scents of oil and dirt and grease and
mud. I'd been to my uncle's farm the summer before, and this guy smelled
worse than the goats. Maybe not as bad as the pigs, but it was close.

I realized that Lloyd probably never take that coverall off. I bet he even
pissed in them. or at least it smelled like it. The front of his coverall
looked a little wet, with a darker stream of black running down his leg to
his big workboots. Lloyd wasn't a bad looking man, and may have been
attractive once. But he looked like he had been punched in the face many
times, and his hair and mustache and beard were all the same short length,
as if they had been burned off in a fire. In Lloyd's mouth was an unlit
cigar - about half smoked, but Lloyd just kept it in the corner of his mouth
chomping on it as if it was bubble gum.

Anyway, this was the sight that greeted me when I showed up for work on the
first day of summer. I arrived on time (which I learned was a Good Thing).
Lloyd looked me up and down and said, "You gonna be our boy for the summer?"

I said I guessed so. Lloyd let out a "Harumph!" and turned and walked away
from me.

Lloyd didn't even look over his shoulder to see if I followed. Instead, he
was calling out orders to me. "This here's the parts bath, and the oil
changing station. We got lifts over there, and it'll be yer job to make
shure they're in good workin' order."

I had no idea what Lloyd was talking about. Lifts? Bath? I followed mutely,
occasionally saying "Yes Sir."

Lloyd finally stopped in front of his office. It was a grimy little room
with a glass window that was so dirty nobody could see in. I think Lloyd
liked it that way, because his last order to me was, "And don't bother me
fer any reason or I'll tan yer HIDE!"

With that, Lloyd went into his office and slammed the door, making the wall
rattle. I was standing there dumbstruck, wondering what I was supposed to do
to earn my pay, when from behind me I heard a, "Hey."

I turned around to see a thin Mexican boy just a little older than me. He
was also wearing a pair of dirty coveralls, zipped up to his neck. He had a
thick head of tousled black hair which peeked from under a dirty baseball
cap that he had on backwards. He looked like the singer in a boy band, or at
least I thought so.

This boy smelled as bad as Lloyd, and I wondered if these guys ever
showered. Maybe it was the lack of air conditioning in the garage, or the
fact that it looked like they never washed their official garage coveralls,
but this boy was noticeable from six feet away. Up close, his smell almost
could knock me over. It wasn't really offensive - more like a working man
than anything. I felt my dick stir a little bit, and I was confused at what
I was thinking.

Turns out the boy was Miguel, and he was the shop boy last summer. "Lloyd's
ok," Miguel said. "He's just got a lot of money problems right now."

Miguel walked me over to the soda machine in the corner, and bought me a
Coke. Which was good, since my mouth was really dry. "Just do everything he
says," said Miguel. "And everything will work out fine."

I nodded, chugging down my soda. This summer, all I wanted to do was sit and
play World of Warcraft, and it looked like I'd me doing slave labor for a
scary hairy big man.

Miguel must have noticed the look in my eyes. "You gonna wear that?" he
said, pointing to my clothes.

I looked down at what I was wearing: and old t-shirt and jeans and a pair of
ratty sneakers. It was all I had. "Um, yeah," I replied.

 "They're ok," Miguel sniffed. "You get an official pair of coveralls if you
go through the probationary period."

Probationary period? I didn't know about that. I *had* to keep this job all
summer or my dad would kill me! And I didn't think that was an exaggeration.
My dad had been acting weird to me lately. I wonder if it was because I had
started to show some signs of puberty - a gain in height, the first few
hairs on my chest (ok, *two* hairs). Sometimes I thought my dad felt
threatened, and that's why he forced me to take this job.

After I finished the Coke, Miguel showed me around. He basically did the
same tour that Lloyd did before, but this time, Miguel actually explained
what everything was for. The parts bath, for example, held an acid wash that
stripped old auto parts of any old. This was going to be one of my jobs - I
had to put on a pair of heavy thick rubber gloves, submerged the part in the
bath for a minute, and then scrape off any crud.

In fact, there was a pile of old parts removed from the shop parts cars that
needed doing. So, my first few hours at the garage were spent doing that.

It was tiring work, standing at the bath all morning, and some of the acid
got into my gloves someone and made my hands itch. But Miguel stood next to
me shooting the shit for a bit, and that made the time pass. It turned out
that we both liked Sublime and Operation Ivy, and were both going to the
same punk rock concert that weekend. I liked him more and more.

All of a sudden, Miguel stood up stock still and said, "What time is it?" I
said I took off my watch and it was in my jeans. Without even asking twice,
Miguel reached into my front pocket for me, since I could take off the
rubber gloves. He felt around (which was a little weird) and then pulled out
my watch, and ran across the garage to Lloyd's office. I wondered what the
emergency was.

About an hour later, I finished the huge pile of parts. At least I thought
it was an hour. Miguel had kept my watch. I walked around the garage, and
became quickly bored. I walked over to Lloyd's office where Miguel and Lloyd
were, and I heard some strange noises behind the door. It sounded like
somebody was lifting something over and over again. I thought about knocking
to make sure they didn't need help, but then thought twice. I went back to
the soda machine, and sat on an old beat-up sofa that stained the ass of my
jeans black the second I sat down.

I sighed. this was going to be a dirty summer.

I had wasted the morning, and was thinking about lunch, when all of a sudden
a truck pulled up to the garage. One guy jumped out as the other parked. The
boy driving didn't look old enough to have a license. All of a sudden I
recognized him. Jeremy! He was two grades ahead of me, and yeah - I bet that
he was only 15. What was he doing driving a car, much less a delivery van?

Jeremy jumped out. "Gene! What the hell are you doing here?"

To tell the truth, I didn't really like Jeremy. I heard he was kind of a
bully. When he wasn't beating up the younger kids at school, he was smoking
cigarettes behind the shop class. But I guess he was pretty good at working
machinery if Lloyd had given him a job at the garage.

Both boys were grimy from head to foot - and looked like they had been
dipped in soot. They both that that "garage stank" that I had begun to
identify with all the men at the garage. I wondered if I would be stinking
as bad as them after working there for a while. While I didn't dread
stinking that bad, I was confused and wondered what it would be like. What
would my mother and father say?

Gene introduced me to Ted, who went to a school across town but was going to
transfer into our school in the fall. I was trying to figure out who was
who, when Lloyd barreled out of his office, yelling and cursing up a storm.

"Goddamit, you fuckers! If I wanted to pay you to goof off, I'd close the
whole fucking shop!"

Even though it was well after 1:00 and I hadn't had lunch, Lloyd assigned
work for all of us to do. It turned out that Jeremy and Ted had picked up a
load of old tires, and it was our job to haul them out and put them in a
pile in back of the garage. This was a really disgusting job, because the
tires had been sitting outside for a long time, and most of them were filled
with rain water and rotting vegetation. While throwing the tires on the
pile, 9 times out of 10 the filthy water would slop over and spray onto my
jeans or shit. By the time the afternoon was over, I was soaked and smelled
like an old pond.

I was also exhausted, and was ready to either drop dead or quit the job,
when Miguel came out of the garage.

"I guess I stole your watch," he said.

"Thanks," I replied, noticing the time. It was after 6:00 pm! And I hadn't
eaten anything all day.

By that time, Lloyd and Ted and Jeremy had all left. Miguel showed me how to
lock up the garage, and he said I should be back at 7:00 am the next day. I
was too tired to complain, and Miguel gave me a ride back in his car so I
didn't have to walk home.

The minute I got home, I raided the refrigerator. My mom had left out some
fried chicken, and I ate that, and two sandwiches as well. I was starving.
Then, I went upstairs, and intended on playing some World of Warcraft. But
before I got into it, I found myself falling asleep. I logged off and got in
the shower, rinsing off the day's grime and smell. Ten minutes later I was
in bed and asleep.

The next day at the garage was similar. Miguel showed me a checklist that
Lloyd made up every morning with all the tasks that us boys had to
accomplish: cleaning parts, pumping gas, moving things around. The checklist
was on a dirty oil-smeared clipboard, and sometimes I couldn't make out the
writing. But I learned that it was better to "fake it" than to ask Lloyd to
clarify - especially when he was in a bad mood.

During that week I began to sense something was strange about Lloyd. First
of all, the fact that he never seemed to leave his office except to yell at
us boys. However, every hour on the hour, a different boy would race to
Lloyd's office and enter without knocking. I thought that was weird, since I
was told to always stay away.

Then there was the time I was told to leave early. Lloyd came out of his
office with Ted, and told me to "go the fuck away for two hours." I
responded promptly, but not before I saw Ted lay on his back on the dirty
garage floor, with Lloyd standing above him. As the door to the garage close
behind me, I swear I saw Lloyd spit on Ted's face below him.

That wasn't the only bizarre thing. The next day on Thursday, I was told by
Lloyd to stay at the parts cleaning stating and not to leave, even if I had
to piss. That was ok, because the toilets at the garage were absolutely
filthy. It looked like nobody had ever cleaned them, and even the customers
that paid for gas didn't go in there. I was told to tell anybody that our
"restrooms are not for the public." There was a port-o-potty at the side of
the garage that everyone used instead, including the boys. However, I never
noticed Lloyd using the facilities, not even the port-o-let, which was
weird.

So, for the next few hours, I cleaned parts. I did it slowly, since I only
had about twenty or so to clean, and I was getting good and fast at it.
Behind me in the second stall, Lloyd was working under a car. laying on the
dolly. The dolly is a little wooden cart with wheels, low enough to get
under the car, but allowing Lloyd to scoot around and move at will.

I snuck a look behind me, and saw Jeremy under the car as well. I thought
Jeremy was handing Lloyd parts as he was working on the transmission, but
Jeremy wasn't doing that. Instead, his head was near the ground, in Lloyd's
crotch. I couldn't get a good look under the car, but I swore that Jeremy
was giving him a blowjob! I couldn't hear anything either, since Lloyd had
turned on the air compressor before he started working under the car. After
about twenty minutes, they both got up, turned off the compressor, and went
back to Lloyd's office. I had a feeling that nothing just got fixed on the
car.



Things came to a halt on Friday. I did the usual crap around the garage,
when Lloyd yelled for me. "Gene! Gimme a hand!"

Lloyd came striding toward me. He had a fistful of screwdrivers and
wrenched, which he threw at me. He told me he needed to work on the lift,
and I was supposed to hand him the tools as he needed them. That was ok with
me. after five days of work, I had figured out what all the tools were. It
seemed like an easy job, though I was a little confused - I had never been
asked to help out before.

Lloyd took me to the third bay, the one the farthest away from the office
and kind of secluded. He got an old dirty folding chair and stood on that,
his head stuck under the car that was held on the hydraulic lift. This was a
little weird, since the lift could have been lowered - there was no reason
for Lloyd to stand on a chair. Plus, the way Lloyd set the chair down, I was
stuck between the wall and Lloyd's legs. There wasn't a lot of clearance in
the small bay, and I found my face inches away from Lloyd's crotch as he
worked.

Lloyd called out for a 1/8" ratchet, and I fit the tool together and handed
it to him. While he was busy under the car, I didn't have much to do. My
nose was literally an inch from the fly of Lloyd's coveralls, and I noticed
that his suit had a zipper at the bottom near his ass as well as a zipper at
the top. They met in the middle, so Lloyd could zip his neck down to get
cool, while still able to unzip his fly and let his dick out to piss.

I don't know why I noticed this, except that I noticed some brown streak
around the fly of Lloyd coveralls. It looked like he had taken a shit out of
the zippered fly, but that didn't make sense. How could he get shit on the
*front* of his suit? I know he didn't take it off much, but it still didn't
make sense.

I was thinking these things and daydreaming, when I noticed Lloyd had
stopped working. He was looking down at me from his height. He growled at me
"Phillips". Screwdriver, I knew he meant. I took the ratchet from him and
handed back the next tool.

My nose was an inch from Lloyd's crotch, I noticed again. And I noticed
because I could REALLY smell Lloyd from where I was standing. Lloyd smelled
like piss, and shit, and something else. Like cheese and chemicals. No, not
chemicals, more like bleach? I swore I could make out the head and shaft of
his dick through his tight coveralls. Lloyd wasn't wearing jeans or any
other pants under his coveralls, I was sure of that. No underwear either, it
looked like.

I was staring at Lloyd's crotch thinking these things, and my dick started
to get hard again. I looked up at Lloyd, and he was busy working on
something, so I took a chance, and straightened my dick in my jeans. It was
getting stiff, and was bent a little. I snuck my hand down the front of my
jeans and briefs, and squeezed my now-hard dick into place.

"Hammer," jolted me to reality. Lloyd wasn't looking at me, was he? My face
turned red as Lloyd worked for another fifteen minutes. When he was done, he
stepped down off the chair. I couldn't meet his eyes - I swear he saw me
fondle myself.

Lloyd just said to me quietly, "Be here after work to get your uniform."

My uniform! I was too stunned to say anything as Lloyd walked back to his
office. I guess I had passes the probationary period! I finally get an
official coverall like the rest of the boys! Which was a good thing,
because, by the end of the week, I was running out of clean clothes to wear
to work. I had already washed my three pairs of jeans once, and was wearing
a t-shirt that was way too tight on me. It was the only one I had left that
Friday.

I was so proud, I went up to Jeremy and Ted and told them I had "passed".
Ted laughed and said, "We know!" The two boys exchanged a look between them.

"I guess I'll be here the rest of the summer!" I said.

"Oh, you bet," said Ted. "Don't you doubt that!"

I wasn't sure of what to make of that, but I had a dozen things left on my
checklist to do before the end of the day. So, I quickly tried to finish up
my work. But still it took over three hours to do, and it was just after
6:00 pm when I tried to find Lloyd and the boys.

They were in the bathroom, the one that never got used. I heard their
voices, and Lloyd saying something sternly. I pushed open the door, and the
talking stopped, with four faces looking down at me: Lloyd, Jeremy, Ted, and
Miguel. But the smell of the bathroom also hit me - a stink of old shit and
piss, like an outhouse that had never been pumped out.

I wondered why they were all in there - the bathroom wasn't that big.
However, I remember that there was a row of three lockers along one wall of
the bathroom, and that was where the uniforms must have been stored. I waved
my hand, "Hi guys," and was shot a look by Miguel.

"Shut up," said Lloyd. "You came in here looking like a little shit." I
wasn't sure where this was going. "But you didn't fuck up much this week,
and I need another boy."

I was pleased and offended at the same time. "Here's your uniform," said
Ted, holding out a blue uniform identical to the ones he and the other boys
wore, except mine was clean and pristine.

I started to reach out for the uniform, but Lloyd pushed my hand down.
"Strip," he said. "Take off yer jeans."

Strip? I guessed so. Though it was a little weird in the tight stinking
bathroom. I was hoping to go home to put the uniform on for Monday. Maybe
they just wanted to see if it fit me. I took off my sneakers which were
stained black from the oil and grease I had been standing in all week. I
stepped on my sneakers so I wouldn't get my socks dirty from the bathroom
floor, and I tried to balance while I pulled down my oily jeans. I guess we
weren't supposed to wear pants under the coveralls.

I felt a little silly standing in just my tight white t-shirt and white
briefs. But I had been in my underwear in front of other boys before. But
they were looking at me kind of strangely, so I looked down at the floor and
tried to put all thoughts out of my mind. My dick was starting to get hard,
and I thought my concentrating, I could will it to go down.

Lloyd threw the coveralls at me, and it pushed me off balance. My left
stockinged foot splashed down in a puddle of something on the floor of the
bathroom. I pulled the coveralls over my leg and tried not to think about it
much.

This coverall was REALLY tight. As I pulled it up, I noticed that the back
of it rode up my butt, pulling my ass cheeks apart. I struggled to shrug
into the arms, and noticed it fit over my t-shirt like a second skin. I bent
over to pull on my sneakers again, my left foot soaked through. But I didn't
care. I was proud of my new uniform, and knew that this meant I had a job
and a future for the next few months.

I stood up straightly, a little proud, when Jeremy did something a little
odd. He handed Lloyd a tube of something, and kept one for himself. All of a
sudden, both of them ran their tubes up and down the front zipped of my
coveralls. Lloyd yanked the zipped all the way up to my neck as far as it
could go, and placed a thick dollop of the goo all over the top of my
zipper. Meanwhile, Jeremy was filling with the lower zipper, making sure it
was pulled down as far as it could go, all the way to my asshole.

After a minute they both stood up and faced me. "Um," I started, and Lloyd
placed his huge dirty grimy hand over my mouth.

"Shut the fuck up and wait."

Five minutes went by, and then ten, and nobody said anything. I could smell
the stink of Lloyd hand over my nose and mouth, and see the grease caked
under his fingernails. Which was odd, but at least I couldn't smell the
bathroom any more.

Finally, Lloyd dropped his hand. "Ok boy," he said. "You wanted to work in
the garage. well yer gonna be part of the garage."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but knew better than to interrupt. "This
uniform you wear marks you as property of Naylund's for the summer."
Property? I wasn't sure how to take that. "Basically. I own your ass."

I looked down at my front. The clean blue coverall was stained with a thick
ribbon of white goo going down the front. It felt hard.

Lloyd saw me looking at my stomach. "That's super glue, boy," he explained.
"And we've glued you inside that uniform."

Super glue? On a zipper? Miguel added, "It's not coming off until the end of
the summer."

"And even then," said Ted, "you'll need scissors!"

Scissors? Thoughts raced in my head. My fingers tried to find the zipper
connected right under my throat, but it was sealed in a glob of hard resin.
"Um, Sir," I started. "How will I piss?"

All three boys laughed along with Lloyd at that. "Well, I guess that's your
problem!"

They all started to file out of the bathroom. I started again, "No
seriously," I was smiling, waiting for them to tell me it was all a joke.
"I'll need to take this off."

Lloyd spun around. "It AIN'T comin' off boy. not if ya know whats good fer
ya!"

Ted and Jeremy got into Miguel's car and left me standing there. Lloyd
hopped on his motorcycle and yelled at me over the revving engine. "Lock up,
boy!"

In a cloud of dust, I was standing in front of the filthy garage. I guess
this was really my life now. A garage monkey covered in grease and oil. I
locked the front door of the garage and pocketed the key, noticing that I
wasn't able to touch my dick at all, not even through the pockets of the
coveralls. I wondered how I was going to explain this to my mom.

Plus I suddenly had a strong urge to piss.