Shorn at the Shop

Raj Mann slid out from under the Buick, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The engine was running like trash, but he had it halfway tamed.

“Damn, Raj,” came Joey’s voice, smooth and sugary. “You’re taking your sweet time under there. You whispering sweet nothings to the oil filter, or what?”

Raj sat up slowly, lips instinctively pursed. He gave Joey a look—rugged, flat, unimpressed—though with his glossy pink lips and high-pitched tone, it landed more like a flirty pout.

“Maybe I am,” he said. “It listens better than you do.”

The other guys laughed—Jeremy let out a breathy giggle, Tucker tossed his head like he had hair to flip. Joey leaned against the tool bench, forearms greasy, tank top clinging to his chest. He looked every bit the tough guy mechanic—except for the shimmering coral lipstick stretched across those absurdly plush lips.

They all looked like that now. Real men. Gritty, broad-shouldered, work-calloused—just with glossy, colorful lips and voices that belonged on a talk show segment about dating tips.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Tucker piped up, voice lilting, “you ever gonna fix that suspension, or are you just waiting for the shocks to give you a kiss?”

Jeremy wiggled his fingers with a sassy smile. “You’re just mad the car’s getting more action than you, cupcake.”

Raj rolled his eyes. The voices, the vocabulary—it had stopped surprising him. After three months, this was just how people talked now. There were still moments that caught him off guard, sure. Like hearing a grown man coo "What a cutie!" at a wrench because it had the right grip. Or the way everyone instinctively reapplied their lipstick before lunch.

He reached for the socket wrench. His fingers brushed against a tube of Pink Seduction that someone had left by the toolbox. Not his shade, but it would do. He hadn’t brought his own this morning.

With practiced ease—because they all knew how now—he twisted the base, leaned into the side mirror, and filled in the spots where it had smudged. It didn’t feel like giving in anymore. It just felt like brushing his teeth.

Tucker passed by with a smirk. “Looking fine, Raj. Gonna break hearts at the auto zone?”

Raj didn’t miss a beat. “Only if they like their heartbreak with a hint of cherry gloss.”

The guys snorted and went back to work.

Then it hit.

It wasn’t dramatic. No lightning, no flash. Just a wave. A strange shiver that tickled the skin, like static electricity under the surface.

Raj paused, blinking. Something felt… airy. Lighter.

He glanced down at his forearm.

His breath caught.

Gone.

The thick dusting of black hair that had always covered his arm was gone. Not trimmed. Not shaved. Just—vanished. The skin underneath was smooth. Almost glowy. He pushed up his sleeve.

Still gone. All the way up.

“What the hell,” he muttered, standing quickly.

Jeremy turned from his lift. “You okay, babe?”

Raj didn’t answer. He shoved his hand down the front of his shirt, brushing across his chest. Smooth. No chest hair. Nothing.

Joey came around the corner, face pale. “Dude. Dude. Raj. Look at me.”

Raj looked up.

Joey’s face was clean. Too clean. No stubble, no sideburns. Just skin. And his eyebrows—Raj blinked.

They were arched. Perfectly shaped. Feminine. Beautiful.

He rushed to the sink mirror. His reflection stared back at him.

His jawline, always strong and shadowed with stubble, was now bare and soft. Not in shape, but in texture. Not a single hair remained. His neck. His cheeks. His upper lip.

He reached up, fingers trembling, and traced his brow.

It was delicate. Precise. Shaped like it had been waxed by a professional who charged way too much and booked months in advance.

From behind him, Jeremy gasped.

“My legs. Bro—my legs. They’re smooth.”

Tucker yelled from across the shop. “My beard’s gone! What is happening?!”

Joey leaned on the doorframe, one hand resting against his smooth cheek. “Okay, real talk? My pubes? Gone. I checked. It’s like Barbie down there.”

“Nope,” Raj said, stepping back from the mirror. “No, no, no—”

But he knew. Every part of him below the neck was bare. Arms, chest, pits, legs. Even… there. And the brows? He didn’t need a second opinion.

Jeremy was laughing now—part hysteria, part amazement. “Dude, I feel like I just got waxed by angels.”

Raj gritted his teeth. “This is not funny.”

Joey, despite himself, cracked a smile. “You look kinda fresh, though. Like… airbrushed.”

Raj shot him a glare. “I’m a mechanic. I’m not supposed to look like a beauty guru on YouTube.”

Tucker walked by, running a hand down his own bare arm, whistling. “Well. At least we don’t have to buy razors anymore.”

Raj sat down on the nearest stool, hand over his mouth. His fingers brushed his lips—soft, plump, freshly touched-up.

“This life is a joke,” he said under his breath.

But even then, the words came out flirty. Light. With a little giggle tucked in at the end, like punctuation.

He groaned.

It sounded cute.