Vice of the Voiceless - Carl

 2/25

So the Pink n Prissy Collective have four poor guys with frozen vocal chords and only three vials of antidote. What a predicament!? Over this season we will see how each unfortunate boy tries to earn back their right to speak and in a cruel twist there will be a 'choose your own adventure' style vote to pick which sissy has to go that one step further for their release. First up is Carl...

The story so far is of course listed on my index, albeit quite far down.

Carl pulled the crumpled card from his hoody pocket and pretended to study the words he knew by heart. There was a futile hope every time he stared at it, something different would be there. Something less humiliating. Something other than Charlotte's dream sissy. - 'I WANT A MIAMI BARBIE – SUNKISSED, SWEET AND SEXY. BLONDE AND BLISSFULLY PINK – CHARLIE X' - He stuffed the note back in his pocket and pulled the black hood as far as it would go to hide his face. Crowds of customers milled around him in the department store and he was determined to hold onto some male dignity for as long as possible. All the careful preparation – all the plucking, scraping and painting of skin and hair was still covered by the boyish exterior of his hoody and jeans.

It had been five days since Carl had last spoken and he was getting desperate. An initial hope the serum that had frozen his vocal chords would fade after a day or two had now lingered and died along with the idea he might come out of this without having to debase himself to the four college girls that called themselves the Pink n Prissy Collective.

He had managed to get a surprising lot done without alerting anyone to his feminine motivations. The internet had provided purchasing opportunity and instruction for makeup, hair and nail extensions and waxing strips and when he had visited a spray-tanning booth, he hadn't even been the only guy there. Clothes ended up being the roadblock. The sizes were an alien language to him and with time running out before the deadline set by the girls, he couldn't afford to get something that didn't fit and he wouldn't have dared ask for help even if he weren't vocally challenged.

Carl approached the checkout with a pink tennis dress draped over his arm and a pair of strappy wedge sandals clasped between his acrylic tipped fingers. A flash of panic ripped through him as he noticed the girl serving and realised it was his cousin, Becca. He would have to remove his hood to make the purchase and even beneath the layers of glossy cosmetics and synthetic hair, she would surely he recognise him and his humiliation would extend far beyond the evening deadline of dolling himself to get his voice back. Making a on-the-spot decision, he grabbed a tote bag from a rack and dashed for the changing rooms.

In the privacy of the booth, Carl pulled off his jeans and hoody and his mounds of blonde hair flopped over his face. He tugged the pink dress over his smooth body and sighed with relief that he had chosen the right size as he stuffed his own clothes into the tote. Now in his final form – sunbleached skin, pouting pink lips and cute pink outfit- he gathered the bag and half-sprinted half-stumbled on the wedges to the store exit.

“Hey, you! Hey, Miss! Come back here!” He glanced back in horror to see a security guard chasing him from the shop. “Stop thief!” Another gave pursuit and crowds of shoppers stopped to stare. Realising he was surrounded, Carl stopped, wide-eyed with fear and the words 'I can explain' running through his mind over and over. But, of course, he couldn't..