Chapter 2

On the Monday Marge headed into town after dropping Maggie at playgroup, determined to buy something for herself to make up for Homer's neglect. After a good few hours, she'd bought nothing and had spent her entire time looking through clothes for Bart and Lisa.

"Huhhhh, it's impossible. Why do I feel so guilty for indulging myself?"

"Um, I might be able to answer that."

Marge turned around to find herself staring at the ever chirpy Lindsey Naegle.

"Hello Mrs...?"

"Marge Simpson," Marge answered.

"I'm Lindsey Naegle, Megamart's new resident Retail Therapist and I can help you get over your niggling moral issues so you can be reunited you with your avaricious child spirit."

Marge looked suspicious, "Really? That sounds like exactly what I need..."

"Mrs Simpson we've had cameras trained on you for the past 2 hours. After ruling you out as a tramp or potential shoplifter, we were able to pinpoint you as a lower middle class housewife and mother dependent on her husband's paltry income."

Marge furrowed her brow as Ms. Naegle continued.

"And we've concluded with an 82.7% degree of probability that you're feeling guilty for spending his pittance."

"My husband earns more than a pittance!"

Ms. Naegle smiled knowingly, "Wonderful, then all we need to get you to do is feel comfortable wielding that hefty credit card." The highly strung, svelte blonde ushered Marge into the woman's section of the store.

Marge tried to shrug her off, "I think I can spend by myself, thank-you very much, Ms Naegle."

"We'd like to believe that, we really would. Here's a simple question Mrs Simpson, if there were no fees or consequences to you choosing an item in this store, what would it be?"

"I beg your pardon," Marge asked, nonplussed.

"Anything in this store, for you, for free. No angry husbands, no starving kids, no carbon footprint, nothing...It's hypothetical obviously, but what would you choose?"

Marge considered the question for a while, "Well, I guess I'd like to get a dress."

"Great! What type - evening, casual? Anything but putrid green, right?"

"I like green!" Marge protested suddenly feeling self-conscious in her day dress.

"Whatever, here's the dress section, choose anything, but don't look at the price tag until I say!"

Marge looked through the racks. After 20 minutes, she turned around holding a little black dress with a golden belt buckle across the front, "hmmm, I like this."

Naegle looked up from her smart phone, "Great Marge, you're doing great! But how about this red dress and what about a pair of shoes?"

Marge suddenly looked flustered by all of the options and possibilities. In what seemed like no time at all she'd spent 2 hours more shopping entirely for herself. She had 4 dresses over her arm and was trying on another pair of heels. Naegle just left her to it for another 20 minutes before returning.

"Hi Marge! How's my favourite shopper?"

"Oh great, Lindsey! I really can't decide between these black strappy heels and these red flats."

"Marge, I'm sure you have plenty of flats, get the heels, treat yourself! Have you looked at the prices yet?"

The housewife searched for the tags on all of the clothes. She gasped, "Oh dear, oh my lord!"

"So, how do you feel?"

"I, I don't know whether I - we - can afford this!"

"Marge, this is your problem, you're so used to sharing everything you own with everybody. Newsflash: you're not Jesus! Now, close your eyes, imagine a calm, serene ocean perfect in every way. Let the sound of the gentle waves soothe you into blissful relaxation. Now imagine the most selfish person you know destroying everything, tearing it all down. Now, become that person. What would they do?"

Naegle's words rung around Marge's head. Yes, she was being manipulated by a corporate shill, but all the housewife could imagine was Homer. Homer. Homer. Homer. Homer's gluttony, Homer's sloth, Homer being reminded to care about somebody other than himself.

"Marge, you love shopping as much as any woman but a voice in your head has dominated you for far too long..."

"You know, you're RIGHT!" Marge suddenly erupted, "Now, please excuse me, I haven't finished shopping."

A big grin crossed Naegle's face and she gave a thumbs up to a security camera.

20 minutes later Marge had a small black dress, a new shorter red day dress, sheer blouse and pencil skirt and a pair of 5 inch and 5.5 inch heels in her hands. She'd always restricted herself to 4 inch heels in the past because it would make her taller than Homer, but since he would never consider her, she justified it readily. Then, as she marched towards the pay counter something caught her eye in the lingerie department.

'2 for 1 Sexy Offer,' the message read. She picked up the discrete triangular box knowing what it contained before grabbing another 3 of the triangular boxes and heading for the counter. $300 later and she had 3 new outfits, shoes and enough sexy thongs to get her through more than a week.

Ms. Naegle smiled at Marge as she hauled her shopping from the store, "You go girl, you really beat that voice of conscience to death!"

The blue haired mother of 3 blushed with embarrassment before continuing on her way. She did it. All of that was for her. Three hundred dollars gone, just like that.

As she walked through the mall a familiar, uninhibited sound washed over her. That music, where had she heard it before? She entered the music shop and asked behind the counter what was playing.

The young girl chewing gum looked at her with disdain, "Ludacris, How Low from Battle of the Sexes."

Marge suddenly felt too old to be interested in such things, went bright red and gulped, "oh, um, thank-you." The look from the young girl was enough to put Marge off and she immediately shrunk from the store. She headed back to the car feeling disappointed, muscled out of something she liked, something she wanted to explore. Then an image of Homer entered her head again, getting drunk, eating as much as he could, buying pointless objects... Marge about turned.

"Wow, that retail therapy really works!" she considered to herself as she marched unashamedly into the music store's hip hop section. Sure enough there was the album, 1 copy left. Her heart rate quickened; she'd never bought anything like this before - Ludacris certainly wasn't The Beatles - but what difference did it make if she liked it and it made her happy? Who cares about other people's opinions about what music she should and shouldn't listen to? Marge felt her palms become sweaty and that previous burst of confidence ebb dry. There were a lot of other young people moving past her and looking at the CDs which was causing her to lose her nerve.

She caught sight of a shop assistant, "Oh excuse me, excuse me!" He disappeared. "Oh, just buy it, who cares what people think!" She reached forward and picked up the last copy with a gulp.

"Ohhww!" moaned a 17 year old girl who was about to pick it up too but Marge beat her to it. Marge gave her a smile that said 'this is mine'! She headed for the pay counter.

The gaunt looking assistant gave her another strange look but Marge's gaze held firm.

"That'll be 10 dollars please" the girl requested.

Marge fumbled in her purse, "Oh, I was wondering, also, I'm looking for another song called 'The Whisper Song', do you know it?"

The girl looked even more disturbed and disgusted, "Umm yeah, its by The Ying Yang Twins, but we only have it on album. Do you want me to get it for you?"

Marge turned beet red again, "Umm, I guess so." The girl disappeared rolling her eyes.

She arrived back, put the CDs through the checkout and said "20 dollars."

Marge handed it over and left the store to a feeling of elation. She'd actually invested in one of HER interests! Not one of Homer's crazy schemes, not the kids, nobody but Marge. She got in the car and tore open the CD before pushing 'United State of Atlanta' into the player. After the intro the beat rocked the car.

"Mmm, so many gratuitous uses of the 'N' word" she grumbled. The song sounded a lot harder and aggressive than she was anticipating, and certainly not what the single 'The Whisper Song' made her expect. Marge hit the school traffic but didn't grumble as she listened to the CD. It wasn't what she had anticipated, if she was honest, and she was struggling to find a reason why she was listening to it until another of the radio-esque interludes came on and the mood changed. The conversation focused on sex but only lasted for a minute or so before 'Wait - The Whisper Song' came on.

"This is more like it" the usually demure housewife thought to herself. She turned the volume up. The song was so stripped down and bare, yet so sensual and sexy.

"Its like snuggle music!" she giggled naughtily. Marge already knew what this song was all about and the thud of the drums was causing her pussy to tingle as she revelled in the salesgirl's disdain for her buying a CD like this. She also considered what her husband's reaction would be if he knew she liked this music. What would he say? Would he be shocked? Feel threatened? She couldn't imagine that Homer would be accepting of her newfound interests. Marge continued to tap her foot to the hypnotic, sexual beat.

The housewife focused on the lyrics before brazenly joining in, "Beat the pussy up!" After learning the lyrics a little bit more she altered them slightly, "Beat MY pussy up!" She grinned devilishly pushing the volume nob up some more so the car vibrated with the beat. "I could sure go for some of that right now" she mused.

Another sexy skit followed before the next song, 'Pull My Hair'. "Oh my," she gasped as the lyrics became even bluer but the deep voice had her entranced. She had half a mind to turn it down, but instead she turned it up to full volume.

The baritone rapper continued to talk about "beating the pussy up" which caused Marge to blush further. But that was nothing to compared to the woman who begged to be spanked and have her hair pulled in the chorus. The song ended and Marge was creaming her panties as she pulled into the drive.

The housewife unloaded her new acquisitions from the trunk of the car and took them upstairs, all apart from the hip-hop CDs which remained concealed in the glove compartment of her vehicle. As she unwrapped her selection of skimpy thongs, she decided it was time to stop being so abashed about it, and unloaded them into her bottom panty drawer. She also took several pairs of unsexy panties and tossed them in the bin. "Hmm, I wonder if Homer will notice?" she asked herself with little expectation that he would.

In bed later that night Homer was pawing at her breasts and Marge was batting him off. She could smell beer on his breath, but he wasn't drunk. This usually happened before sex, but Marge was determined not to give in so easily tonight, at least to make him pay for his neglect.

"Oh come on Marge, let's get frisky!" he suggested.

"Homey, no, not tonight, I'm not in the mood."

He pinched her nipple trying to get it hard but her hand intercepted once more. Undeterred, Homer continued his playful assault until Marge snapped.

"NOT TONIGHT I SAID!"

Homer blinked with shock for a second. "Wow, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing...and nothing will!"

"Wow...OH I understand, honey!" Homer backed down reasoning that she must be on her period.

Marge just shook her head and bit her tongue. She'd really wanted to tag on "and you're not going to for a long while!" onto her comment but managed to hold back.

10 minutes later Homer was snoring heavily leaving Marge staring at the ceiling. Far from being empty, however, her head was full of the lyrics from those CDs she'd invested in. "How do they get away with being so naughty?" she pondered. No matter how they got away with it, it was having a profound effect on the housewife and her mind kept considering the illicit CDs in her car. It was almost like having a porn stash. She glanced over at Homer once more then decided she could stand it no longer so she slipped out from beneath the bed sheets wearing only one of her new thongs.

The 40 year old housewife casually strolled from her bedroom, across the landing then down the stairs, in total confidence and in total ease at her nudity. She knew none of the children would be up, just as she knew Homer would be out for the night. She also knew nobody would notice her, because nobody ever does.

"The role of the mother, the boring housewife," she thought to herself. The glow from the TV quickly lit the front room as Marge relaxed bare-breasted on the couch with her legs up. Hip hop after hip hop video came on and she quickly began to realise that she didn't like all of the genre, just the naughty songs. Being late at night, there were plenty to choose from and Marge felt the desire to masturbate. Throughout her life she had rarely pleasured herself, deciding instead that only shameless women did that. Nevertheless, from time to time, she gave in and fingered herself but she always found having an orgasm difficult. But something different was occurring this time. "What did it matter? If nobody notices, who cares?" the thoughts repeated.

Her nipples were large and hard as the libidinal beats issued forth from the television. She tapped her feet and hands, all the time warring the desire to slip her hand into her thong. "Hmm, maybe if I danced a little this urge will go away? I wonder if I could make my ass move like those ladies'?"

The mother of 3 turned her back to the screen, looked over her shoulder and bent down. She watched as the hip hop honeys booty clapped and tried to imitate them. Sure enough the housewife's buttocks began to sway back and forth until she found the rhythm of the song and her cheeks were softly clapping together. The sight and sound of it sent a thrill through her body and she gradually realised that she could get her 45 inch booty to clap quite loudly.

"Oh why did I never do this before?!" the housewife whispered to herself, "I knew my fat ass would come in good for something!" She giggled and kept swaying to the beat until the song ended but when it did, Marge realised she was wetter than ever. Finally she gave in sitting down on the couch with one leg up and her hand furiously rubbing through her thong.

The 40 year old mother of 3 covered her throbbing pussy in her copious juices before focussing on her clit. "All those women, caught in the hypnotic beat." The hip-hop video panned across a group of large white asses bouncing up and down to the music much to the appreciation of the rappers. "This is what music should be - sexual!"

In the past few years, Marge's hips and ass had gained a lot of weight. No matter what she did exercise or diet wise the pounds just kept going to her thighs. Eventually she put it down to age, but now she was starting to realise perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. "Maybe it could get me some attention, like these women?" she mused.

The thought ricocheted around her mind, "Me dancing like this in a club - so naughty, so wrong!" The housewife's legs tensed, "UGH! OH, OH, OH" she grunted and panted, rocking her hips and coming hard. It felt liberating to come without it being anything to do with Homer, but still Marge didn't feel finished, so she padded her way topless through to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. There was nothing much exciting, apart from Homer's regulation 6 pack of Duff beers.

"What will Homer make of this?" smirked the housewife as she took a tin and sat back down in front of the TV. 4 cans later and the housewife was masturbating again. "Oh, its this music is like an aphrodisiac!"

Once again the housewife considered herself in the position of the hip hop honeys, or in a club, a mother and wife entranced by the dirty beat. It felt so wrong for a woman like her to love it so much, but she did. What would Flanders think? What would Timothy and Helen Lovejoy make of it? What would her sisters think? What would Homer think? She came hard but in complete silence, her eyes closed and cheeks blushing furiously. At just past 2am Marge returned to bed and fell asleep instantly.