On the secluded van Damme estate, all the servants, workers, guests, and Leslie's tutors were female.On the secluded van Damme estate, all the servants, workers, guests, and Leslie's tutors were female. By the time he was twenty one there was no way to undo what had been accomplished; Leslie didn't look like a man, and he didn't now how to act like one. He had never even worn any masculine clothing. He couldn't pass as a man no matter how hard he tried. Leslie wasn't particular as to the sex of his partners, he enjoyed both men and women with perhaps only the slightest bias in favor of the girls. The problem was that he wanted a stable and fulfilling relationship, but the people who were able to accept him as he was seemed incapable of one. On the other hand, those people who were sensible and well-adjusted emotionally seemed to find the prospect of sex, or a relationship, with him too extreme. Leslie had been out with an old friend, Sheila, who knew his circumstances, but when he had attempted seduction she found it humorous and rebuffed him politely; he was left feeling lonely, angry, and incompetent. Leslie examined himself in the mirror. He was 5'9" in his bare feet. Long legs, nice rounded thighs and buttocks, narrow waist, and ample B-cup breasts. With his hair in a long pageboy, the resemblance to his sister Justine was remarkable. He grabbed his flaccid cock and started to play with it. "Well old friend it looks like it's just you and me once again. |