I was nineteen when I first realized that something was really off about me. Not that other people hadn't noticed it before, but that I'd simply never noticed it about myself.

I was already a poor starving student, which lead to my slight build. Not that I was, or more correctly considered myself, effeminate, just that I was wiry.

I don't now remember where I initially heard about them, but storage auctions were my main source of income. Storage seems to be one of the most commonly rented property in the US. People always seem to have more stuff than they know what to do with, so they rent these garage looking things and just toss it all in there.

Occasionally, people fail to pay their bill, which is where I come in. Once a week, usually Saturday, I would make the rounds of the storage companies to see what was up for auction. Then, when you won, they'd cut the lock and you'd get to see what was there.

Tables and chairs, antiques if you're lucky, and lots of clothing.

I made a pretty good living at it, but most of it went to my schooling. MIT is not a cheap school, and I wasn't quite smart enough to qualify for a scholarship.

Even with student loans, I would need to come up with part of it. Eating ramen noodles I was able to go to school and buy my textbooks and not have to get a loan for school.

I figured that when I finished school, I would be ahead of most of the poor schmucks that would still need to pay off their loans before really living their lives.

Saturday morning, I arrived at one of my more favorite places in the world, or at least for work: Adamantium Secure Storage.

The reason it was my favorite was that I had lucked into antiques the last three times I'd bid here. That had paid off a couple of short term loans I'd taken out, as well as swelled my bank account enough to cover the next two semesters of college. Too bad Adamantium Secure Storage only auctioned once every month or so.

As soon as I had enough saved up to cover the rest of school, I'd either continue working to get me some better food. . .or stop working and pick up a heavier course load to help me finish school faster.

I'd probably opt for the second.

"We're opening the bids for this unit at five hundred dollars. The previous owner opted to insure this unit, and there is a good possibility of a reasonable return."

"500." said a middling pretty, middle aged woman.

Having done this for a while, I knew how to get the amateurs, those who usually made the lowest bid, and stepped up in small increments, to quit or step up.

"1000 dollars."

"1001," again from the woman.

"1500" said Stan, one of the other bidders I was well familiar with.

"1501," from the woman.

"2000," from Stan.

The woman looked nervous. That wasn't normal for a newbie. She had a stake in this. I've got it.

"2001," she finally said. There was hope in her eye.

"5000."

Stan gasped. I'd never made that big a jump, but he wanted a piece of the action.

"5500."

"6000," from the woman. She was starting to get it. But I had quite a bit of savings I could use on this.

"10,000." I said.

The managers eyes bugged out. Stan cursed. The woman teared up a bit, and began to walk away.

The manager cut the lock, and I immediately put on one of my own. I wanted to have the truck I'd rented here so I could start moving things into it. The small crowd of bidders followed the manager to the next unit for the day, and I went out to get my truck.

Opening the storage locker, my eyes were met with stacks of boxes. I'd sort them out later, well, the relatively light ones I would. I kept an eye out for markings of 'fragile' as I moved the boxes into the truck.

Antiques. A lot of them. The other reason I liked Adamantium was the size of their storage lockers. This was one of the largest at fifteen feet wide and thirty deep. I didn't trust myself to move any of this on my own, so I called my antiques broker and then unpacked the moving blankets.

He brought some employees, and we got everything in the van and over to his shop without any new damage. My estimate was a bit high. His appraisal put the total at right around $300,000.

We made the normal arrangement for the usual fee.

I went home, dropped off the boxes, and returned the truck.

I began to go through the boxes, and found clothes. Nice clothes, sure, but probably destined for Goodwill or another charity shop. They were in my size, so I began to look through them determining what I would keep, and what I would donate.

I was about halfway through the boxes when I ran into something truly shocking. There were a pair of breasts in the box, just looking up at me. The box was filed with underwear. Women's underwear.

I picked up the clear plastic bag the breasts were in, and noticed a piece of paper in with them. It was instructions on use. Breast forms.

I dropped them in the box like a hot potato, and moved on to the next box. Blouses and skirts. I opened box after box and found more women's clothing. All in all, only nine boxes had women's clothing in them. I continued to sort the clothing I thought I'd wear. But the feel of those breasts kept coming back to me. I wondered what it would be like to wear some of those skirts as well. Something with a cute matching top. I thought that I'd seen. . .

I shook my head to try and get the images of coordinating tops out of my head, and it worked, mostly, until I finished sorting all of the boxes of men's clothing.

I took a deep breath, and before I lost my nerve, I dove into the first box. I took our the breast forms and a bra and panty set. They were a pretty pink color. Simple high cut cotton panties, and a matching cotton bra.

The panties were easy enough, but the bra gave me a little bit of difficulty. I got it on, and then got the breast forms situated. I picked out a blouse and skirt and slipped them on as well. I went to look at myself in the mirror. The clothing complemented my form, and accentuated the slight widening of my hips. I'd never been a really hairy man, but the hair on my legs was visible, and I hadn't shaved my face this morning either. I quickly shaved both, and looked at myself again. I'd let my hair grow a little long, so I had some there to brush out, and I used some of my roommate's hair spray.

The look seemed to work for me. I air kissed my image and went back to the work of sorting, this time the girl's clothing. I was thinking it might not hurt to find what was still in style and what wasn't.

I heard a lock in the door and assumed that it must be my roommates coming home. I lived with five other guys at the time.

"Hey, babe, is Jake in then?"

I froze. I'd been so comfortable, that I'd forgotten that I was in women's clothing. I turned around shocked.

"Wow, Jake really scored this time. You meet him at the storage place? My name's Brad."

"I know who you are, Brad."

"Do we have a class together?"

I was shocked. "Brad, I'm Jake."

"That explains so much," Seth said.

"Huh?"

"Well, you never wanted to play football with us, and the only other girl out there is butch. "

"But I'm a guy."

"Jake, even if that's padding up top, you never really acted like a guy."

They helped me move the girl's clothing to my room and removed the guy's clothing. They let everyone on campus know that they were there to protect me, like they were my brothers or something. Somehow, it never really bothered me. Transitioning into a girl full time was a blessing, and I used a good portion of my money to complete the change.

The guys don't play football on Saturday any more. I think it's because Brad fancies me. He is over at my new dorm room every night, and maybe I'll have to ask him out, if he won't get up the nerve to do it on his own.