My planwas simple, to get a lift to either Oostende or Calais, board the ferryas a foot passenger and then hitch from Dover to my friends in Brighton....t was a hot August day, so I wore light pleated trousers, much likehareem pants, a black silk Nepalese blouse, a white silk neck scarf withnavy polka dots tied loosely around my neck and pixie boots, and carriedmy documents and some spare clothes in a shoulder bag.I got a lift quickly with a teacher in an old Renault 4 to the ring roadin Antwerp,. Each time I put one on I saw my finger shrinking andbecoming more slender, soon I had eight dainty fingers and two daintythumbs on my feminine hands.My right hand reached once more for the box while my left ran over mysmooth waist and up to my swollen nipples or, rather, my breasts. Thedelicate pink nails of my left hand stroked my budding breasts, rakinglightly over my stiffening nipples. I was so caught up in the feeling that Ididn't see what was held in my right hand until it was too late. A. More

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