Coming To America

 

Sweet Home Bama: Roll Tide

I was Big Deal in my Hometown in The South: Prom King, Pussy Slayer and starting QB. Football is hella competitive even at the High School level, so I didn't get a college scholarship and with such a charmed life I graduated easily but had never rally applied myself.

I guess I was way full of myself when I moved to New York to make it as a male model or actor or whatevs. I'd only rally known success, praise and fawning from older folks telling me I was destined for great thing.

But nobody gave a F who I was massive reality check, Dreamboats like me were truly a dime a dozen.

But then so are sex starved Milfs, Cougars and Divorcee's drowning in alimony, so ploughing these Aging Dames was allowing me to not have to live in poverty and I still got to screw loads of twenty something Thots. Nothing at all was happening in my poorly thought out non career though and I so didn't wanna return home so soon as a failure.

I thought Esther was my favorite so far but she ended my hot streak and my masculinity. She wasn't all daffy and scatterbrained like most of the others. I loved her company, with many of the other Society Ladies I dicked down it was a case of more tolerated.

But I was legit clueless that she was an acclaimed Academic and Radical Feminist Thought Leader in Forced Fem and Male Disempowerment. I assumed she was living off some poor Middle Aged First Husbands dime or whatevs like the other discarded Wives. She was making telephone numbers in consultancy as a tenured widely published Professor.

My surprise trip out of the city was the first step in a nightmare gauntlet of hormone regimes, surgeries, retraining and therapy that crossed the line into brainwashing.

The humiliation and horror at my new self was too much to deal with I got accustomed to being put in a straitjacket and given emergency sedative shots.

But the same team that robbed me of my muscles, testicles and my sanity, they didn't give up on giving me as much post emasculation therapy as possible to eventually allow me to deal with my new Ultra Femmy Dependent Existence.

I used to hate the Ex Rebels who had gone Full Stepford but pretty much I became one.

Then the Humiliation when I got back to Manhattan was about how well I adapted to being The Jewish American Princess Elitist Upper Westside Kept Housefrau of The MRA movement's public enemy number one.

I tried to forget my past it was mortifying to think of my memories as a High Status Good Ole Southern Boy who liked trucks, country, blondes and barbecue. Nostalgia is denial rally so it didn't work for me.

Like I sometimes would almost forget I hadn't always been Muffy Horowitz but that just made the Sissy Hissy Fits when I did have a persona break that much more ridiculous, pathetic and painful to my old ego.

One thing always reminded me of my past, no matter how recently I'd had an intensive struggle session with my Shrink though.

Like when Esther and her cabal of well heeled chic Lesbians talked about people in red states, the south and especially GOP voters. It was so contemptuous, insulting, such broad strokes too. Well it got me so aggie. They knew nothing about middle America, yet slammed us as 'ignorant'.

Now I'm totally the kinda submissive Forced Fem Trophy who dolls himself up and waits obediently for the strap-on and beats himself up if every little thing isn't just so for my supes Important Better Half. Gawd knows we have enough Help that it should be, right?

But the snobbery was just too much for me not to call these Cosmopolitan Men Destroyers out. The Witches would just double down on the trashing of 'rednecks' and 'Maga Chuds. Way unfair with me on all these Bitchboi pills that make me an Utter Ditz. It made it childs play to twist my words and get my estrogen loaded psyche to crack into big crying fits. Being all clever shouldn't be a license to be mean.

I generally got sent to bed early like a dang Tot after one of the episodes. But the nighttime retro beauty regime I'm expected to follow takes so long that wasn't that bad. It just like I was skittish knowing Esther would be mad at the breakfast table. She's antispank but her verbal tirades are so upsetting and cutting, I'd rather go over her lap TBH.

But I guess my squawking in my new over the top NY accent got through to her about all the good things, nice people and beautiful scenery of what they all call 'Flyover Country', we always take great vacays she plans everything, I just shop for ensembles for her to show off what she turned a Jock into to the rest of the 1%.

It's awful nice of her to listen and be so excited to take me on a trip back Down South.

I can't wait for his High School Reunion. The thrill of reintroducing one of The Finest Young Men his hometown has every produced as my Muffy Horowitz braying like Fran Drescher and almost too weak to lift his Birkin let alone throw a football.

It will be nice for these style challenged plump Becky Hicks get to see a real one in the flesh, even if it is on the frail arm of a Ex Stud who broke their heart. Give the lil people something to aspire to, I believe in that.

Especially with the new Furcoat on his back that cost more than your house! Muffy was so giddy and affectionate about the chubby he's such material girl, I'm sure it's a present worth the most mortifying night of his life.

Johnny is not a failure he's a preview of the future of the Modern American Boy, NY and Cali we are always ahead of the curve.