Monday morning Colin strutted into work with his head held high. He entered the mechanic’s bay through a side door by the employee’s parking area. For the first time ever he’d left his cap at home. Yesterday at the mall he’d stopped at a salon and got his hair cut in a funky spiky style with soft highlights that framed his face.

He was wearing his new 501 boyfriend jeans and a new tight fitting tee shirt emblazoned with a butterfly that read “Get out of your cocoon and PLAY”. An inch of creamy smooth midriff was revealed above the waistband of his jeans. He wore a sports bra and bikini panties under it all.

Chapter 5

* * * * *

Colin had spent most of the day at the mall. He’d gone from one new discovery to the next. Shoes led to shirts which led to underwear which led to grooming products which led to a new hair style. He couldn’t believe how much fun he’d had. Shopping had never been anything but a chore to him. But he was learning what women found so alluring about it -- trying on different styles and discovering whole new looks.

Now he needed to cache his purchases away from Dee’s prying eyes. He’d originally rented the storage unit to conceal his tg reading habit but he’d been reading less and less of late. Instead he came here to explore the vagaries of the residents.

Each day’s expedition into the labyrinthine assortment of buildings was different. From the road it looked like a tiny cluster of low buildings, but inside the compound was sort of like a nautilus shell -- more chambers and twists and turns than it would appear from the outside. Some days it seemed like there were only 9 or 10 different buildings but at other times he’d swear there were dozens and dozens.

Once Colin had tried to look up the location on Google Maps so he could count the number of buildings on the satellite image. But inexplicably all he saw was a Seven Eleven and a little strip mall that bracketed the compound to east and west. There was a small copse of trees in between but the scale of the map showed it was only 100 feet wide, far too small to contain the storage facility. There was no sign of the road that circled the facility. It was like looking at an Escher print; if he started at one edge at a place he clearly recognized and panned his view through where he *knew* the facility was he reached the opposite edge at another recognizable landmark without comprehending what was in between.

He’d long since given up on understanding the unique installation and just accepted its mystique. The normal rules of physics and common sense were bent once you passed through the entrance. He had a while before Dee would be home from her parents so now, since he’d already stashed the worst of the evidence in his unit, he allowed himself time for a stroll through the compound to look for whatever interesting may be going on.

Colin stared in awe down the row of storage units at the scene before him. He'd seen some unusual things here but this absolutely was the topper. A gorgeous white stallion with a gleaming mother of pearl spiral horn jutting from his forehead stood on his hind legs with his two forelegs poised as if rearing up. But the unicorn was posed in this position, not moving at all, suspended half erect against the force of gravity.

Standing behind him was a canvas backdrop with a stormy sky and mountains in the near distance making it appear the creature was rearing up atop some craggy peak. A little misshapen man stood to one side with an easel and paints arranged before him. He was about four and a half feet tall, hunchbacked, with a long pointed beak of a nose, and a bald pate with a few wisps of gray hair around his pointed ears -- the classic notion of a wizened gnome.

"Hold still, will you." the gnome groused. "I'm trying to get the detail right."

The unicorn whinnied and cast a baleful eye at the strange artist, his thoughts easy to interpret.

Colin just couldn't resist and ambled over for a better look. Up close he could see over the gnome's shoulder that he was working on an original of one of those ubiquitous black velvet paintings that seemed to grace the walls of ninety percent of young girls' bedrooms at some point in their lives. He did the unicorn's majesty justice, embellishing the image with just the right amount of silvery glitter in his mane, tail and horn.

"What do you think?" the painter asked. "More clouds? How about lightning?"

Colin shook his head. "Nah, I wouldn't overdo it. Too much would lose the dramatic sense of impending action."

“Aye youngster, ye’ve a good eye. ‘Tis difficult enough tryin’ to keep it fresh with such limited variation in subject matter.” He cocked an eye at Colin appraisingly. “Speakin’ o’ variation, how’d ye like to pose with Frederick there? We’d make it worth your while.”

“What?! Me? In one of those unicorn posters? I thought the only humans who could approach a unicorn were virgin girls? I mean I couldn’t... thanks, but no.”

“Aye, ye’ve a wise head. P’rhaps ‘tis a bit early yet. Come see us in a few weeks, then. Like I said, ye’ll no’ regret it.”

Colin stared at him dumbstruck a moment then muttered his thanks and walked off. What could the little fellow possibly mean when he insinuated Colin’d be a more appropriate subject for the painting in a few weeks? He pondered that as he sashayed over toward his own unit in his new high heeled sandals, his ass naturally swaying from side to side in his new skin tight jeans.

* * * *

Monday morning Colin strutted into work with his head held high. He entered the mechanic’s bay through a side door by the employee’s parking area. For the first time ever he’d left his cap at home. Yesterday at the mall he’d stopped at a salon and got his hair cut in a funky spiky style with soft highlights that framed his face.

He was wearing his new 501 boyfriend jeans and a new tight fitting tee shirt emblazoned with a butterfly that read “Get out of your cocoon and PLAY”. An inch of creamy smooth midriff was revealed above the waistband of his jeans. He wore a sports bra and bikini panties under it all.

Some of the guys turned their heads, tracking his progress like radar dishes. He made his way toward the break room where everybody’s lockers were. As his hand touched the door knob Jake cleared his throat loudly.

“Excuse me, Miss, can I help you?”

Colin turned to his longtime friend and smiled. “That’s okay, I got it.”

“Are you looking for somebody?”

“Nope.”

“Um... this area’s for employees only.”

“Yep. I know.”

“If you need to make an appointment or something you should go up front.”

“Jake you asshole, don’t you know me?”

“Look lady, I’m married. I don’t know who told you my name or what you’re tryin’ to pull but I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Colin sighed. On the one hand it was gratifying that Jake didn’t recognize him, but on the other hand it was a pain to have to prove his identity. “Jake, it’s me -- Colin.”

“Colin?” Jake squinted his eyes and leaned in for a better look.

“Yep. If you don’t believe me I’ll have to tell the guys how you passed out with your arms around my toilet the other day...”

“Shit!” Jake recoiled, as if afraid he might catch something if he were too close to Colin. “It *is* you! Damn! Is this some kind of a joke?”

Colin felt his spine stiffen. He’d known Jake for years; had been the best man at his wedding. Was this about to turn into a repeat of his sisters’ betrayal?

“Hey guys!” Jake called out before Colin could react. “C’mere and get a look at ol’ O’Brien over here. Ain’t he purty? Maybe he’ll give us a kiss?”

“It’s no joke, Jake,” Colin said softly. “I’m still me. I’ve always been this way on the inside.”

Jake cast him a sharp look then his brow furrowed in thought. The rest of the guys gathered around and started taunting him.

“Whoo whee! You’re ‘bout the cutest thing I ever seen in here.”

“Damn, O’Brien I never figgered you for a tranny fairy.”

“I wonder if it’s still got a dick?”

“I wonder if it ever had one!”

“Hey Colin, d’you wanna suck my cock?”

“I bet she does! I’m next Colin.”

“Me first,” somebody growled and reached out to grab him.

“Hey!” Jake yelled. He shoved the guy away from Colin. But Bill Jones, another mechanic, took his forearm in an iron grip with one hand, cupped his ass with the other and squeezed.

“Bastard!” Colin drew on his self-defense training and twisted sideways; he reached across his body with his free hand and seized Bill’s arm at a pressure point in the elbow. He squeezed brutally and used a practiced move to bring him to his knees. With a quick thrust and twist he sent him sprawling on his butt and wheeled around to face the rest.

“Who’s next?” he snarled half crouched, hands at the ready, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been hiding who I am from shit-heads like you my whole life. Afraid of what you’d think of me. Well, fuck that!”

He didn’t know if he’d ever have come to this point in life if he hadn’t changed so much. But the way he looked now was his dream come true. Not only did he pass as a woman, he’d have a difficult time passing as a man. Hell, that wasn’t right -- he didn’t *pass* as a woman, he *was* a woman. Where it counted: on the inside, and had been her entire life regardless of what her body looked like. The physical changes didn’t matter really, they just made it possible for other people to see who she’d been all along.

“You ass-wipes can joke all you want but if anybody else lays a hand on me he’ll be on his ass just like Bill. Now get out of my way, I need to punch in and get to work.”

The other mechanics muttered amongst themselves but slowly went off to their various tasks. Colpn was breathing hard. She’d been expecting something like this for a reception. She’d brazened herself through it but knew she couldn’t stand up to a determined group effort to get rid of her.

“Colin...” Jake approached, shamefaced. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such an ass. You... um... you took me by surprise. Which I hope you admit is understandable...” Jake trailed off, looking into Colin’s eyes for signs of forgiveness.

Colin smiled. “Nah, if you’d pulled that on me I would’ve pissed myself.”

Jake grinned back. “I almost did. So, Colin... or is it Colleen? What do you want me to call you now?”

Colin didn’t have to give it a thought -- she’d always known her real name in her dreams. “I’m going to go by Colleen. But we’ve known each other so long that if you slip and say Colin it won’t bother me a bit.”

“Okay Colleen it is. So, Colleen, are we still on for poker at my place Wednesday?”

* * * *

“You wanted to see me, John?” Colleen asked as she stepped into Big John’s tiny closet of an office. The shop foreman’s desk was stacked with work orders, time cards, tool catalogs, and various engine parts, and other detritus from a busy engine repair operation.

“Shut the door, O’Brien.”

She did so and settled herself in the single visitor chair in the small room.

“Why the hell didn’t you give me a heads up before showing up here like... like that?” He gestured vaguely at Colleen, taking in her hair, clothes, everything. “You’ve worked here... what? 15 years? Have I ever treated you unfairly?”

Colleen shook her head. “No, of course not John. You’ve always been tough, but fair.”

“Then what the hell made you think I wouldn’t deal with this fairly? D’you have any idea how much trouble the company could get in with EEOC? D’you have any idea how much trouble *I* could get in with Harrison?” John asked, referring to the company’s owner.

Colleen felt guilty. She dropped her gaze and muttered, “I don’t know, John. I guess I didn’t think it through. I... what? came out? sort of spur of the moment actually. I didn’t think I might cause you trouble.”

“Well, it’s not important now. Now what’s important is where we go from here. I’ve let it be known that no harassment will be tolerated. There’ll be an official company memo out detailing this. If anyone steps over the line I want to hear about it. Can’t do anything about a problem if I don’t know about it. And you’re going to have to start using the customer’s ladies’ room out front.”

“Thanks.”

“Now don’t go thinking that you’re under some special protection here. We will comply with the law and provide you with the opportunity to continue your employment. But...” here John paused and glared at her with a baleful look. “You need to hold up your end. If your productivity or quality falls off I’ll treat you just as I would anyone else. Believe it.”

“Understood.” Colleen said.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

* * * *

The remainder of the afternoon Colleen considered her situation. She was a competent diesel mechanic but the main reason for doing this job no longer existed. She didn’t need to hide behind a macho job any longer. Did she *like* her job or did she like how it made her *appear* to the rest of the world?

But what else could she do to earn a living? Even more importantly, what did she *want* to do? She loved fashion and had a good eye, but was that sufficient to find a job? She didn’t think so. She had no education to speak of, she had no contacts in the fashion industry, she had no savings.

Did she want to go into business for herself? Perhaps open a little boutique? With the economy in the toilet could she earn enough to support herself? Where would she open the store? She’d need a fairly upscale location to attract the clientele with cash to spare. Which, of course, would drive her costs up...

Huh.

Maybe she should hold on to her job for the time being.

* * * *

Colleen pulled into the storage facility and stopped next to the office. Her rent was due and she got out of the truck to drop off a dozen dimes.

Ells was lounging around the office and Colleen waved. “Hey Ells, how’s it hangin’ dude?”

Ells winked mischievously. “Sure and it’s the O’Brien herself. And looking quite lovely too. I swear if I was two hundred years younger I’d be makin’ a fool o’ me’self tryin’ to win your favor.”

She giggled -- actually *giggled*! “And you’re a silver tongued devil of a Fey Lothario if I ever saw one.”

“‘Tis the Blarney in me, lass, I canna’ help it.” He chuckled and bowed slightly at the waist. “I’m right happy to see ye’ve accepted your inner nature. Good for you, lassie. So what is it ye’ll be callin’ yerself now?”

“Colleen. It’s enough like my given name to be an easy change. It’s also the name I always secretly thought of as ‘me’ in my fantasies.”

“A good Irish name. Pleased I am to meet ye’, Colleen.”

She dimpled and sketched a curtsey, ruining the effect by stumbling while executing the unfamiliar move. She laughed uproariously at her own clumsiness and replied, “Pleased to meet you too, Ells.”

The roar of a big rig filled the air and Ells took Colleen by the elbow, steering her off to the side. A tractor trailer swung around the corner of the building with a famous bald-headed advertising icon on the side. “Mr. Shine’s Magic Eraser” was painted in four foot high letters along the side of the trailer.

Colleen grinned and asked, “Is there nothing your kin don’t have their fingers into?”

“We *do* like to keep occupied. But there are some things we don’t meddle in. We’re not so adept with your computing machines, for example. Spreadsheets and the like aren’t our strong suit.” He smiled widely. “But those of us with a bent toward spinning a yarn have fared pretty well with fantasy games.”

“I bet you do! It’s a wonder more humans don’t believe -- the signs are everywhere.”

“Ah, Colleen, Mums don’t tell the old tales to their wee babes these days. Too much television. Muppets, Barney, Caillou, Yo Gabba Gabba -- whatever *that* is -- and many others are what children’s heads are filled with these days.”

“My Mum told me the ancient stories. I still remember them all. Rumpelstilkskin, The Three Feathers, The Lazy Spinner, The Shoemaker and the Elves...”

Huh. Maybe there *was* a way to break into the fashion industry.

“Say, Ells? What’s it take to start a business here... like Mr. Shine, for example, using umm... local labor?”

“Well, lass, you’d need an MBA...” Ells started off in a musing tone.

“An MBA?” Colleen felt her hopes, so recently raised, sink again. “Just for a small startup?”

“Aye, if ye’ll be using Fey labor you need to contract through a Magickal Business Agent.”

“Oh! *That* kind of MBA,” she said, hope springing eternal one more time.

“Why, sure. What kind of MBA did ye’ think I meant? One of those daftly earnest young Harvard graduates?”

* * * *

To be continued...