Swamp Thing

Only occasionally did a car drive past her, always travelling from the fairground toward town. Although she knew she might be able to flag one of them down and find somebody willing to rescue her, she hid in the treeline every time and only come out when the tail lights had passed. She was too embarrassed at people seeing her like this; covered in mud from her hair to her feet, her t-shirt plastered to her so that she might as well be naked under all the filth. Also she was worried that, appearing out of the trees on this lonely road, looking like the Swamp Thing, she might very well terrify a poor driver and cause a horrible crash.

Emily neared the lights of the town, and now there were street lamps dotted along the road. Standing under one she looked down at herself. She was dry now, at least, but absolutely caked in black mud. There wasn't any of her skin visible, and her panties and t-shirt were exactly the same. Her knickers were dry and felt like cardboard as she moved; she wouldn't be able to walk far with them on. Her t-shirt was caked to the shape of her boobs, and during her cold, wet walk to town had actually dried to the shape of her erect nipples. She poked them both with her fingers to try to flatten them but they just sprung back out.

She thought for a moment. It was probably just a mile or so to her place. If she could find a way to get in, she could shower, get warm, be safe. But there were probably a lot of people in that mile, and she did not even know what time it was. She didn't need to be rushing past any busy bars or across a supermarket car park like this. She wondered if any of her friends might be able to help. Sophie was probably closest geographically if not emotionally. Sophie had often seemed a little intolerant of Emily's ditziness and could sometimes be a bit mean, but she might be the best bet.