So I used to ask her to massage my head with oil, cook for me.I even wrestled with her playfully so as to feel and touch her body. But I never could f...el her breasts. Then one day as she was drying clothes from the washing machine, I went near her and told her that I wanted to ask something. She said ask putta (my pet name).I asked why women and girls chest are round and guys have it flat. She thought it was an innocent question and told me it’s because we have to feed kids later and milk comes. It was The Wardrobe.Slowly, reverantly, I opened one of the doors. But instead of wintercoats, there were little girl dresses hanging in The Wardrobe. Eventhough they were all too small for me, I still found myself admiringthem and wishing I could try them on.Then the voice came to me. Well, not actually a voice, but a sort of...thought. It was the same thought that had brought me to this warehouse,this crate, and this wardrobe. The thought was saying, I must moveforward. With my heart thumping. Davidson wanted Carl to fully become Carly, and took great pleasure incastrating him and giving him a vagina, while Thompson wanted me to keepmy tiny useless cock so that I would be constantly reminded of who Iwas, even if it was under layers of neural reprogramming. It was atthat point that they figured that it was better if they traded me andCarly, in case by some miracle the programming broke or we wererecognized by someone... which is why I ended up spending the next twoyears with Davidson. Well, that’s what I was thinking when we met again after a long absence. She met me from the station after a tedious train journey, during which I was reliving the things we used to get up to. It was as much as I could do to stop myself coming in my pants.She was looking fantastic. New short haircut, tight grey skirt to the knee and shiny blouse accentuating her full breasts.As she slipped into the driver's seat, I glimpsed her stockings, which she wanted me to know she was wearing. I had.