Joseph McCarty (or Joe, as he preferred) opened the locker and smiled. "Finally. I can get out of these fucking clothes." He looked down at the black velvet dress he was wearing and his face twisted with disgust. He had already seen his reflection and knew that he was now in the body of a young woman (one he wouldn't mind fucking, by the way), but that didn't mean he had to wear a fucking dress. The world may have seen him as a woman now, but looking down at himself, he could clearly see that he was still a guy. All of his tattoos were gone, but he was still clearly himself.
He ripped off the gothic dress and threw it aside. Next came the panties and the heeled boots. He looked down at himself. Yep, he was all there.
He reached into the locker and grabbed a pair of boxer shorts and a man's T-shirt and then put them on. Then he put on the pair of jeans he saw.
He closed the locker and looked at himself in the mirror. His grin faded. "What the fuck?" While everything fit his body perfectly, the mirror told a different story. The shirt was a bit baggy and the jeans were riding low. It was obvious that the clothes were too big for this woman's body. He didn't get it. The dress that the woman was wearing looked like it fit perfectly on her body, and it wasn't tight at all on Joe.
He grunted and pulled the jeans up, but found that they were already up. On himself, they were perfectly fine, but in the mirror, they were still riding low. He looked through the locker for a belt, but didn't find one. He checked the next locker over, and then the next and finally found one. He put it on and then looked in the mirror. The jeans weren't riding low anymore, but they still looked too large for her.
Joe grunted, figuring this was the best he was able to get, then he left the room and back out into the auto repair shop. It was time to steal a car. These guys don't need 'em anymore, he thought, as he glanced over at the three dead repairmen and smiled.
