The Savage Road: Journal of the She-Hulk

"Borrowing"

The walk takes a long time. Hours, minutes, they all blend together, but I don't care because those hours are my hours. Human hours. Hours that I can do with my own free will.

Night begins to fall. Good. I can get close to this isolated abode in the countryside, and use the shadows to my advantage. There are a lot of different reactions people may have to a naked woman approaching their house, and let's just say it's in neither of our best interests right now to guess what reaction this particular resident would have.

I find a tree to lean against and I wait, resting my bare back against the rough tree trunk. More time passes, again, I can't say how long, but I enjoy it. My eyes grow heavy. My body wants to rest, but I can't. Not yet.

A loud noise echoes into my ears and I freeze. Slowly peering around the tree, I see a figure coming out through the door. Man? Woman? I can't tell. I hold my breath, hoping that I haven't been seen.

Then, in a bit of luck that feels rare for me nowadays, the figure finds their way to a vehicle, enters, and drives away. Now's my chance.

Let me just say it gives me no joy to admit that I've become an expert at picking locks. That said, what's a girl to do when she transforms back from a hulking rage monster and needs clothes? Stores don't usually take kindly to customers walking in naked, especially if they don't have any money. And here I'm miles away away from anywhere I could legitimately get either. Therefore, my next wardrobe is coming from this person, unfortunately.  And yeah, before you say it, I'm a bit of a monster even when I'm not green. 

It doesn't take long to conquer this lock, and I'm inside. I pause for a minute to listen for noises from any other potential resident. I've been caught doing this before, in the early days of my transformations, and trust me when I say that the She-Hulk does not wait around for the police to arrive. 

Thankfully that's not the case this time, as the home is empty. Still, I tiptoe my way up some stairs and through a hallway, my eyes scanning for a bedroom. I try one...nope, office. Next one? Bathroom. OK, quick pit stop.

I run the sink, cold water only, and cup my hands under the faucet letting my hands fill up. Carefully, I splash the liquid over my face and allow the shock to spread over me, a much-needed jolt to my energy-sapped system. A few deep breaths later, I bring my eyes up and catch a stranger in the mirror: Me.

Been a while since I've seen myself. My hair is ratty from dirt and oils. My eyes have bags under them, betraying my exhaustion. My face is a bit gaunt: Can't remember my last good meal, now that I think about it. I don't dare look at the rest of my body. You've definitely seen better days, Rebecca. 

Theme of my current life, I guess.

The urge to take a shower is huge but I can't waste valuable time doing so. The occupant of this house could be out all night, or they may be on a 10-minute excursion to a store. Need to find what I came here for.

The next door I open lifts my spirits as I see it is a bedroom -- third time's a charm I guess. I move in and it only takes a second for my eyes to spot a dresser. Like a magnet, I'm pulled to its location. 

My hands reach for one of the drawers. I hold my breath. Moment of truth: Guy or girl? I yank it open and lay my eyes upon... Men's t-shirts. Oh well. Can't be a fashion critic when I literally just need anything to dress up in.

I quickly yank out a men's large size shirt that's red with some odd logo on it. I force my hands through the short sleeves and pull my head through, pulling the fabric down over my torso. A bra would've been nice, but the shirt hangs loosely enough that my boobs don't really seem noticeable and won't draw unwanted attention in my next town. (Plus, wearing used underwear really isn't my thing.)

I open the drawer beneath and find more shirts. Nope. The one beneath had what I'm looking for, however: pants. I grab the first pair of decent jeans I see and let them unfold in my grip. They'll do. I rest them on the dresser and bring my thumbs to the leftover rags of denim hanging from my hips and make them slide down my legs to the floor. My panties disintegrated sadly during my Hulk-out, so looks like it's gonna be commando for me at the moment (again, not touching this guy's used underwear).

I slide the jeans up and button them at my waist. Like the shirt, they're a little large, but I find a belt and tighten it as best I can. Sigh. At least in clothing stores I could pick out what I liked. And I felt less guilty "borrowing" from them.

One last thing. I move to the nearby closet and open up. Lots of stuff hanging, but I ignore it. My attention goes to the floor. YES. Shoes, oh my God, shoes. I grab a pair and slip them onto my aching feet. Surprise, they're also a bit big. I feel a bit like a clown. A clown thief.

OK, I'm not gonna win any fashion awards, She-Hulk, but I do like to have some modesty, unlike you. And maybe these will stand a better chance at surviving your size next time you emerge. I can only hope. Sometimes I think you like letting your tits hang out just to spite me.

Grabbing my destroyed former pants, I slip out of the room and backtrack quickly toward the front door, making sure all doors are closed. I leave the house and slip back into the cover of darkness. 

Hopefully this guy won't miss these three clothing items. I'd stay around to apologize, but as usual, time is of the essence. Every minute the She-Hulk's presence is regaining strength. My next transformation is a matter of when, not if. If I have time, maybe I'll return here one day with some money to make it up to you. Until then, I gotta enjoy these clothes, and being human, while I can.