His eyes flashed open, and he looked down. He was looking down at a girl’s body. Two breasts inside the bra. The top view down of perfect tits, fitt...ng snugly in a perfect fitting bra. And no cock. Knickers with no cock inside them. And curves. Unmistakeable feminine curves. A thin waist, flaring out to wider hips and undoubtedly a pert round bum behind. He was inside a girl’s body, looking out.Oh my. Oh my. Oh my!This had to be a dream. He was dreaming he was a girl, surely. It had happened. I recognized him from the party at Jean Crispen’s home, and I have met him since at the shop of his wife, the seamstress at Campomesnils.“I am sorry, Monsieur,” I told him. “My husband is away on business and is due back in a few days. I will give him word of your visit, and he will seek you out once he has returned.”“Is the Lady Nicole present?” he asked, ignoring my entreaty to leave. “I could discuss it with her.”“No, good sir, she is not here either,” I explained. Suddenly, he pushed his. More

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