Clark Kent’s reflection in the mirror did not lie. The faint smudge of foundation near his jawline, the way his button-up strained slightly at the shoulders---each detail whispered *risk*. For weeks, he’d noticed the sidelong glances at the Daily Planet, the hesitant pauses when he “forgot” his notebook or fumbled a question. Superman’s latest rescue, broadcast live on every screen in Metropolis, had left a witness describing the hero’s “familiar posture” and “a voice like Clark Kent’s, but… deeper.” Close. Too close.

That night, Clark paced his apartment, Superman’s cape folded hastily under his bed. His identity had survived kryptonite, time travel, and Lex Luthor’s most devious schemes. Yet here he was, undone by a *posture* and a *voice*. A new approach was needed.

By dawn, the plan took shape: a disguise so transformative it would bury Clark Kent entirely. He would vanish on a months-long overseas assignment---somewhere remote, where no one would question his absence---and return as *Carlie Clark*, a newly hired junior reporter. A gender-swapped alias was risky, but necessary. Superman’s physique was lean but broad; as Carlie, he’d adopt softer lines, a petite frame, and mannerisms lightyears from his bumbling alter ego.

The logistics were thorny. First, the physical transformation. Clark spent hours studying makeup tutorials, practicing the delicate art of contouring to narrow his jawline and widen his cheekbones. He ordered wigs online---chestnut bob, styled in loose waves---and experimented with padded hips and shoulders to rebalance his silhouette. His wallet winced; the trendy blazers and pencil skirts Carlie would need cost more than his monthly salary. He rationed his grocery budget, telling himself it was temporary.

Then, the timing. As Clark, he’d always relied on quick changes in phone booths or empty stairwells. But Carlie’s wardrobe---fitted blouses, delicate jewelry---couldn’t be torn off in a heartbeat. He practiced a meticulous routine: unbuttoning Carlie’s silk blouse one-handed while the other peeled off adhesive breast forms, scrubbing off foundation with micellar wipes before sprinting to the nearest alley to leap into the sky. Every second counted.