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The Perfect Hubby 1: Marc To Marcie free porn video
The Perfect Hubby 1: Marc to Marcie
By Sharon Masterman
Billy was a model husband when we first got married. He did
his share of the cooking and housework. He was gentle and
loving in bed. And he was totally faithful.
Then things changed. He stopped cooking and doing
housework, and insisted I wait on him hand and foot. He
became rough and aggressive in bed. And he started cheating
on me.
Some nights he came home late, other nights he didn't come
home at all. When I accused him of cheating, he just
laughed.
"I'm a real man," he said, "and real men need more than one
woman. If you don't like it, get a divorce."
I was devastated. I couldn't cope with a divorce. This was
my second marriage -- and the second to go sour. Marc, my
first husband, was a macho womanizer. I was hoping Billy,
who was small and slender for a man, would be different.
***
One Friday night when Billy was hitting the singles bars, I
went to the mall. As I was passing Victoria's Secret I ran
into my ex-husband Marc and his new wife Julie. Julie had a
broad smirk and did all the talking. Though she was good-
looking, she was nearly 10 years older than Marc. I
wondered what he saw in her.
As Julie spoke, I noticed that Marc was carrying a big
shopping bag from Victoria's Secret. And he was standing
behind Julie rather than beside her. His eyes were lowered
and he seemed to be blushing. Were his lashes really that
long and dark, I wondered, or was he wearing mascara? Were
his lips really that red or was he wearing lipstick? And
was that Julie's purse over his shoulder?
As I was trying to get a closer look, Julie said they still
had more shopping to do. "Say goodbye to Sharon, sweetie,"
she said to Marc as if he were a child.
"'Bye Sharon," he said softly, still refusing to make eye
contact.
Julie's smirk grew even broader as she gave me a knowing
wink. Then she led him away.
That night I couldn't take my mind off Marc. He would never
have gone shopping with me, let alone carried an ultra-
feminine Victoria's Secret bag or my purse. Maybe Julie
knew something about men that I didn't. Next morning I
phoned her.
I told Julie about my problems with Billy and asked if she
had any advice.
"Sure," she responded, "I know exactly what the problem is.
And I can help. But not over the phone. There's something
I'll have to show you. Can you come over at about 4:00 this
afternoon? Good. I'll see you then. Oh, and dress sexy and
wear heels -- the higher the better. Don't ask why. You'll
find out when you get here."
That afternoon I changed into black nylons, a form-fitting
low-cut dress, and a pair of 5-inch spikes. I loved those
shoes. They made me feel sexy and powerful. But Billy
wouldn't let me wear them. He was so much shorter than me,
I towered over him in those heels. I now realize I made him
feel small and childlike and threatened his masculinity
when I wore them.
***
Julie greeted me at the door. She was dressed as a vintage
glamour girl -- heavy makeup, sky-high stiletto heels,
bullet bra, and a tight sweater and skirt. She might be
older than Marc or me, but she had a great body and knew
how to dress.
"Hi, Sharon," she said. "Come on in."
We seated ourselves in the living room. Then Julie called
toward the kitchen.
"Marcie, dear, some refreshments for our guest, please."
Marcie? I wondered. Who was Marcie? Then I heard the click-
click-click of high heels. I looked up and there, much to
my astonishment, was my ex-husband! He was wearing lipstick
and eye shadow, earrings, a garter belt, fishnet stockings,
stiletto heels, and a lacy white apron -- and nothing else.
The pulsating erection lifting the front of his apron
compounded his humiliation. It made it impossible for him
to deny he liked dressing as a woman!
Marc -- or "Marcie" as Julie now called him -- placed a
wine and cheese tray on the table before us. Then, eyes
lowered, he performed a delicate little curtsey.
"Thanks, sweetie," Julie said to him. "Do you want to say
something to Aunt Sharon?"
His heavy makeup could hardly hide his mortification. "I'm
sorry, Sharon," he said in a soft, high-pitched, feminine
tone of voice, "for being so naughty and disrespectful to
you."
Then he kneeled before me and worshipfully kissed, licked,
and sucked my high heels.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm," he softly murmured as my sharp stiletto
heel penetrated his pursed and painted lips.
It was a revenge fantasy come true! I was fucking my ex-
husband -- fucking his mouth -- with my high heels! I
placed the tip of my other heel on his cock and toyed with
it. Marc winced. I could cut it off if I wanted. And he
knew it. What a turn on!
"Okay, sweetie," Julie said. "I think Aunt Sharon forgives
you now, don't you Sharon?"
"Yes," I said. Then, getting into the swing of things, I
added, "As long as you're a sweet little boy and do
whatever mommy says."
Julie turned to me and her broad smile told her all she
needed to know. Then she ordered him to the kitchen. He
curtsied and was off. As he was mincing away I noticed that
his bottom was bright red as if he'd recently been spanked.
"Isn't he darling?" Julie asked as she turned towards me.
"Yes," I said, "but how did you do it?"
"It was easy. Inside every man is a boy who's afraid of his
mother. The secret to a happy marriage is bringing that
little boy out of your husband and doing what his mother
should have done. First you weaken his manhood. Then you
impose the power relationship between mother and son onto
the erotic relationship between man and woman. Marc doesn't
think of himself as my husband any more, but as my son --
my sissy son.
"I began by dressing as a glamour girl of his mother's
generation," Julie continued. "This reminded him of the
women who dominated him as a young boy -- his mother, his
aunts, and his teachers. They were big and strong, he was
small and weak. Their outfits -- tight sweaters and skirts,
pointed bras, low-cut, figure-hugging dresses, sky-high
heels, heavy makeup -- also turned him on. Dressed like
them, I triggered the same combination of fear and
excitement he'd experienced as a child.
"Then, whenever he got out of line -- whenever he tried to
be masculine -- I punished him. Sometimes I'd take him over
my knee for a bare-bottomed spanking. He didn't resist. He
was afraid. He saw me as strong and powerful and himself as
weak and dependent. Other times I'd give blister his bottom
with my hairbrush and make him stand in the corner.
Sometimes I'd press my nails into his manhood and threaten
to cut it off. He'd cry -- really cry -- and promise to be
good. Then I trained him to do housework
"Have you ever taken a man over your knee and blistered his
ass with a hairbrush, Sharon? Believe me, there's nothing
like it to give a woman a sense of power and control -- to
reduce a man to tears and make him promise to do everything
she says. What a rush! You should have seen Marc the first
time I did it to him. At first he was desperately trying to
retain his masculine pride -- doing everything he could to
keep from showing that it hurt. But this only made me hit
him harder. Finally his ass got redder and redder and I
broke his masculinity. First he began to whimper and sob.
Then the tears began to flow and he began blubbering
apologies and promising to do whatever I wanted. What a
turn on! Turning a man into a whimpering, sobbing little
boy who will do anything you say. It was so exciting I
actually came!
"Like every macho womanizer, deep down Marc was insecure
about his masculinity. So I confirmed his doubts. In bed
told him his little nubbin didn't measure up to other men
I'd known. They were bigger, stronger, and longer-lasting.
This made him so anxious his performance became worse.
Once, he was so nervous he couldn't even get it up. He
broke into tears and sobbed. I savored his humiliation. I
drew him to my bosom and comforted him. 'It's okay,
sweetie,' I said, 'You don't have to be a man for mommy.
You can be my lover boy. We'll kiss and cuddle like mother
and son -- and you can learn to make love and satisfy me
like a girl. I lead, you follow; I'm aggressive; you're
passive; I'm the top, you're the bottom; you come when I
tell you to; not before, not after.'
"The next day, hairbrush in hand, I took him to my closet
and encouraged him to play dress up. He didn't object. In
fact he was quite relieved. Dressed as a girl, he wouldn't
have to measure up as a man. I helped him into bras, garter
belts, nylons, and heels. Then I kissed and caressed him
and told him how pretty he looked. He felt safe and secure,
sexy and exciting, as my roaming hands intimately found
their way into his lacy bra and panties. And he never got
over it.
"Now he identifies sexual excitement with the more feminine
side of his personality. Nothing pleases him more than
dressing and serving as my maid -- brushing my hair,
polishing my nails, and helping me in and out of my high
heels. Then, as a reward, I draw him to my bosom and feel
him up as if he were a girl. You should hear him moan and
sigh like a virgin as I stimulate his sensitive nipples,
stroke his stocking-sheathed thighs, and fondle his little
panty-clad clitty-cock.
"As for our marriage, it's become increasingly traditional.
I'm in charge and Marcie's the traditional wife -- a
male/wife homemaker who cooks and cleans, washes and irons,
and does everything to make me happy, including remaining
faithful while putting up with my infidelities. I've become
a big believer in the traditional marriage -- only it's the
male, not the female, who's the wife. Every married woman,
including you, ought to have such a wife -- a male/wife!
And a couple of hot studs on the side."
Julie called for Marc again. I could hardly contain my
giggles as the ex-macho man girlishly minced into the
living room and performed a delicate curtsey.
"Marcie, darling," Julie said, "bring Auntie Sharon the
books and magazines on the shelf over there."
He did as he was told and I began looking through them. The
magazine, WhAP!, contained articles and stories with titles
like, "Training the Obedient Husband," "Mother, May I?"
"Matriarchy in Matrimony," "When Husbands Misbehave," and
so on. The books included titles like Rearing a Husband, A
Charm School for Sissy Maids, and The Training and
Education of a Husband.
"Take them home," Julie said. "Study them. They've got lots
of plans and tips for transforming any macho man into a
sweet little momma's boy. Believe me, once you turn your
husband into a sissy -- and experience the submissive love
and devotion you can get from an adoring boy in a man's
body -- you won't go back to normal men, at least not for
marriage. Like me, you may want to date other guys for
romance and excitement, but there's no better husband than
one who dresses and acts like a male/wife. In six months
Billy can become as docile as Marcie."
As Julie was speaking, Marc -- I mean, "Marcie"-- stood off
to the side awaiting her orders. She turned to him.
"Okay, dear," she said. "Now draw my bath. Mommy's got a
date tonight with a real hunk! I'll want you to do my nails
and dress me. And you'll have to sleep in the guest room,
sweetheart -- in case I get lucky!"
Marcie curtsied and left the room. Julie then turned to me
and gave me an encouraging hug.
"Do it, Sharon," she said. "See how sweet a husband can be.
Turn Billy into 'Billie Jean'. Spank him! Bring out the
submissive little boy inside! The fact that he's womanizing
shows that deep down he's really insecure about his
masculinity. Take advantage of that. Confirm his fears.
Convince him he lacks the size, strength, and stamina to
really satisfy you as a man. Then turn him into submissive
male/wife. Train him to dress and serve as your maid! I'll
be happy to help, if you'd like. Do it, Sharon. It'll save
your marriage!"
To be Continued...
Maddy
- 08.12.2020
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