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The Perfect Housewife [Man to 1950s Housewife TG] - Part 3
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 00:08:46 +0000 UTCCommissioned Anonymously
Avery didn't become a woman for the body; the truth is, all he’s ever wanted was to be taken care of and keep house; not exactly a manly pursuit. When he finds out that his best friend Paul’s dream girl is exactly that, they hatch a plan to live together and fill the holes in one another’s lives. What they didn’t expect was just how hard it would be to keep their hands off each other, especially once Avery undergoes mental programming to make himself Paul’s ideal wife.
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Part 3 - The Surrender
The house smelled of fresh coffee and the soft, pleasant scent of lavender from the dusting spray I used on the furniture. I glanced around the living room, making sure the couch cushions were fluffed just right, the coffee table clean and the snacks aligned in size order, and the rug aligned with the wood panelling of the floor. It was important, after all, that nothing looked out of place. It was my first party as hostess, I wanted to show Paul’s friends how perfect I was. I knew a handful of them from my days as a man, most hadd disappeared after the change. It was time to show them what they had been missing out on. I adjusted the drapes one more time. Just the right amount of light should be streaming in, enough to brighten the room but not put a glare on the TV screen.
“Avery,” I heard his voice calling from the other room, “do we have any more of that dip?”
The doorbell rang, and Paul appeared in the archway.
“I’ll get it right now, you get the door and welcome your friends.”
I dashed to the kitchen, pulling out the bowl I had prepared earlier. I’d made sure the dip was just the way he liked it; none of that storebought stuff. I’d made it myself, and it was perfectly creamy, with just the right amount of seasoning. A little bit of heat, just enough to make the men talk about it. I wouldn’t let anyone think I wasn’t up to being the perfect housewife.
The guys were walking into the living room as I returned. They were all tall and broad-shouldered, laughing and exchanging jokes, but none of them seemed as important as my Paul.
My Paul.
The words seemed to bounce around in my skull. It sounded so right.
“Wow, this place is looking incredible!” One said as they sat down.
“Well, I strive to make sure Paul is taken care of,” I replied, placing the dip down and trying very hard not to add ‘my’ in front of Paul’s name.
The man grinned.
“You’ve got it made, buddy, how’d you find a wife like her?”
I flushed with pride and felt that familiar warmth in my chest.
“Avery is great, she has been an amazing help,” Paul said.
I felt my heart skip a beat. I sat next to him on the loveseat and smoothed my dress, elegantly crossing my ankles together.
“Wait, that’s Avery?” Another gaped. “Dude, I heard…wow.”
“Close your mouth dear, you’re not a codfish,” I said motherly. “Now, the game is about to start, I believe. Don’t worry about drinks. I will get them so nobody misses a thing.”
The men cheered, and I felt myself flush with pleasure that only grew as Paul’s hand came to rest on my knee. The game began, and the cheers and groans of the men filled the room, but I was focused on making sure their drinks were always full and that no one ran out of snacks. I moved around silently, refilling bowls and fetching beers; Paul didn’t ask for much, but I knew what he needed before he even thought of it.
At half-time, I continued to serve, continued to smile, continuing to ensure everything was just right. It was my role, and I loved it. After all, what else was there to do but ensure Paul’s friends had the best time? I caught his eye once more, and he gave me that small, grateful smile, which I knew meant he was proud of me. It lit a fire between my legs that was almost impossible to ignore.
Every step I took was like teasing myself by the time the party ended. But of course, I couldn’t let it show. Instead, I continued playing hostess and drinking in the envious looks I was getting from the group of men. Half of them didn't even seem to care about the game anymore, they were too busy being jealous of Paul for landing me. I preened; their loss. Still, I was sad when they all left; their presence had been keeping me in check. Now I needed a new distraction.
“That was such an amazing game!” Paul grinned, punching the air. “Holy shit, that last minute save was something else.”
He turned to me, breathless and a little drunk and scooped me into his arms.
“And you, you were amazing too!”
“Really?”
“The food, the service, I could focus on the game fully and…I didn’t.”
I could feel his heart beating against my breast, and my voice dropped to a lustful whisper.
“What were you distracted by?”
Paul swallowed and put me back on the ground, taking a step back. Already my body yearned to be closer to him again, his heat lingered on my front and my nipples hardened in their bra.
“I…” Paul bit his lip. “There are dishes int he sink.”
Disappointment flooded me, but I nodded. It was for the best. We shouldn't be indulging in our feelings no matter how much we both clearly wanted to. Ta the end of the day, Paul would never forget I was his best friend once. I just nodded and moved to the kitchen, my domain, my refuge.
I stood there, my hands submerged in the warm, soapy water and my mind drifting to more pleasurable thoughts. I could still remember how right Paul’s body felt against mine, if he’d kissed me then, I don't think I could have said no.
As I rinsed a plate, my eyes locked with his through the reflection in the window above the sink. I saw a spark of desire in his eyes, a look I had been craving for so long. I knew I had to maintain my composure, but the tension between us was palpable. I pretended to focus on the dishes, my heart racing as I felt his gaze on me. The warm water seemed to be having an effect on more than just the dishes; I could feel wetness in other places as well. I wanted him desperately, but as a traditional wife, I had to wait for him to make the first move.
“Avery.” He said quietly. “Was this a bad idea?”
“No.”
“But…are you sure I wouldn’t be taking advantage of you if I…”
His hand slid up my arm, the touch was feather-light and made gooseflesh appear on my skin.
"I've been waiting for you, Paul," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I turned to face him, my eyes locking with his. I saw the hunger in his gaze, and it mirrored my own longing. Without saying another word, I stepped out of my shoes, the wooden floor cool beneath my bare feet. I’d kicked off my heels, and the fact that I was barefoot in the kitchen suddenly occurred to me.
“I’m sorry…I just can't stop myself anymore.”
“W-what are you doing?”
“Please, Paul, I need you. Let me be a proper wife to you. My body belongs to you.”
I wasn’t thinking as I spoke, only feeling. I pressed our lips together, and fireworks sparked in my veins. His lips were soft and warm, and he responded eagerly, his hands reaching up to cup my face. I parted my lips, inviting his tongue, and we kissed passionately, our tongues dancing together. I moaned softly into his mouth, my hands moving to his broad shoulders. I tried to pull back and stop, but I couldn’t. He pulled me closer, his hands now roaming over my back, making me shiver with anticipation.
"Avery, my sweet wife," he groaned, his hands now gripping my hips. "I like the sound of that. My sweet, submissive, servile wife...."
“Yes!” I moaned.
I wanted to please him, to show him how much I desired him. I began to unbutton his shirt, my fingers deftly working each button free. I exposed his chest, running my hands over his warm skin, feeling the contours of his muscles. He let out a sharp breath as my fingers traced his nipples, and I took the opportunity to kiss and suckle them, earning a series of low moans from his lips. My own nipples stiffened, almost as if they were jealous.
"Oh, Avery," he whispered his hands now in my hair, guiding my mouth back to his.
We kissed again, our tongues entwining, our passion building. His fingers found the ties of my apron and let it flutter to the floor before slowly unbuttoning my dress. The clothing fell to the ground around my ankles, and Paul's eyes widened as I revealed my lace-adorned breasts.
“I didn’t realise you wore such…girly underwear.”
“Only the best for you.”
My nipples were clearly visible through the thin, lacy fabric and Paul tweaked them each gently. God, I hadn’t even realised how long I had been waiting for that.
“Fuck, Avery…we shouldn’t.”
“I know, but I can’t help myself, please don’t stop.”
I thrust out my chest further and he pulled me close, stumbling back against the kitchen table. He pulled me onto his lap, his hands exploring my curves, his touch sending waves of pleasure through my body. I straddled him, feeling his hardness pressing against my core through our clothing. I ground myself against him, seeking relief from the growing ache between my thighs.
"Please, Paul," I begged, my voice hoarse with need. "I want you inside me."
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
“That’s all I ever wanted.” I whimpered.”
Gentle, he turned up, laying me down on the table and spreading my legs. I was on full display for him now, and gently lifted my hips so he could remove my underwear. His eyes roamed over me hungrily, which only made me hornier.
He stepped out of his shoes and quickly undid his belt, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation. I reached for his zipper, eager to free his straining erection. I pulled down his trousers and boxers, revealing his thick, throbbing cock. It stood proudly, the head glistening with pre-cum. I stroked him gently, marvelling at his size and the power he held over me. There was no way I could stop myself now.
"You're so beautiful, Avery," he said, his voice thick with desire. I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at his words.
He gripped my shoulders firmly and gently pushed me back down onto the table, positioning me so that I was open and ready for him. He stood between my thighs, his cock poised at my entrance. I reached down, guiding him into my waiting pussy. He entered me slowly, filling me inch by inch, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Yes, Paul," I whispered, my breath catching as he stretched me, filling a void I never knew existed. “Please, use me for your pleasure.”
He began to move, his hips thrusting gently at first, then with growing urgency. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper with each stroke. The table creaked beneath us. My perfectly ironed tablecloth scrunched beneath our bodies, but I didn’t care. Finally, I was getting what I truly craved.
I cried out, my body trembling as he hit all the right spots, his cock massaging my sensitive walls. I squeezed him tightly, wanting nothing more than to make his ecstasy stronger. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips. I could feel my orgasm building, a delicious pressure coiling within me.
"Come for me, Avery," he urged, his voice hoarse.
A woman’s pleasure wasn't important, my body was to serve my husband, but I couldn’t help but obey. I tightened my muscles around him, my nails digging into his back as I climaxed, my body shaking with the force of my release. Paul groaned, his hips moving faster, driving into me with abandon. A few seconds later, he spilled his hot seed deep inside me, his body shuddering with pleasure.
“Oh God, I can’t believe we did that,” Paul said after a moment as he pulled away.
“Me either, I’m sorry I just…I couldn’t help myself.”
“Don’t be that was…incredible. You’re incredible.”
There was silence for a moment before I stood up. My passage ached in the most satisfying way and I realised that I didn’t want to give this up. Pride be damned.
“Paul, we’re made for each other.” i whispered. “Why should we force this to be something else? I love you, you love me. Let’s be together. Truly. That is…if you can see me as a real woman. Your real women.”
Paul seemed to hesitate for a moment before smiling and pulling me close. He kissed me deeply; I felt owned and it was so good.
“I think I like you better as a wife than a mate anyway.”
Epilogue
I smoothed my hand over the skirt of my dress even though it was already perfect. It was a simple gown, A-line, with a big full skirt and a heart-shaped neckline. If it weren’t for the stark white colour, it would be something I’d wear normally. Mother of pearl decorated my neck, ears and wrists. A pair of shiny silver heels decorated my feet. My make up was perfect, and there wasn’t a hair out of place. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from fussing.
“It’s normal to be nervous.” The officiant smiled; she was an older woman with a stern face, but her tone was soft.
“I’m not nervous,” I replied. “I just want to make sure everything is perfect.”
“You were so meticulous with the planning I don’t think things could go wrong if God himself tried.”
I giggled; maybe I had been a little bit anal about things, but it was my wedding day! I couldn’t let my perfection stop now. Ever since that night a year ago, Paul and I had become a true couple. He was the best husband a woman could ask for; he provided and of course, he spoiled me. Jewellery, fancy dinners, gifts every other week. He showed his adoration in every way he knew how, including the bedroom. Paul now knew my body better than I knew myself and I loved it. It had never been my intention for this deal to result in love, and yet here we were, about to step up to the altar together.
At first, our friends found it a little strange that I had gone from best friend to wife; but I did such a good job playing my new role they seemed to forget I’d ever been male, which is exactly what I wanted. I shuddered in embarrassment, thinking back to that gender reveal barbeque and the way I sat with my legs spread. So undignified! No wonder no man had wanted me.
A hush fell over the hall outside my door, and I sucked in a sharp breath; it was time. The officiant gave me a thumbs up and then disappeared, leaving me alone to prepare for my cue. I gripped my bouquet of yellow roses tightly. I’d meant what I said, I wasn't nervous at all, in fact, I’d never been more sure of anything.
The music swelled, and I stepped out into the hall. A red carpet heaped with petals was waiting for me as I slowly walked down the aisle. I could feel everybody staring, hear their whispers of admiration but I only had eyes for one person. Paul stood at the end of the aisle in his perfect black suit. I’d pressed it this morning and picked the flower for his lapel, but I was still taken aback by how handsome he looked. My body responded, and I was thankful for the thick fabric of my bodice. Without it, the whole room might realise just how turned on I was.
“You look amazing,” Paul whispered. “Ready to become my wife?”
“Oh, Paul, yes. I want that more than anything.”
I leaned forward to kiss him out of habit, and the officiant had to step between us, much to the crowd's entertainment.
“Now, now. We’ll get to that bit in a minute.”
I flushed with embarrassment, but Paul squeezed my hand, and we began our wedding vows. They passed in a blur as I eagerly awaited the end.
“Do you, Avery, take this man to love, cherish and obey?”
“I do.”
Some people didn't like that last part, but I wasn't one of them. Obeying Paul was the easiest and most pleasurable thing in the world. After what felt like an age, the officiant finally said those few words I’d been waiting for.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Paul didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me with all the love he had. He dipped me, and the crowd cheered, I could feel the soft flutter of flower petals as they fell over us, and I smiled against my new husband's mouth. It was still awkward some times. Paul would remember who I used to be or feel guilty watching me scrub his floors, but it never lasted. It might not be totally perfect, but it was as close as it could get. I promised myself to spend every day dedicating myself to him, to this new life.
People approached and congratulated us. We had a huge reception planned, with dancing and a menu I’d designed myself but all of a sudden, I just wanted it to be over so Paul and I could go home together and have our wedding night. No matter how many times he laid me down to make love, I couldn’t get enough. Then, if was off for the honeymoon before settling down into our quiet, suburban life together. Perhaps, with enough luck, I could add ‘mother’ to my list of titles.
“I’m going to be the most perfect wife you could ever ask for.” I murmured against his lips as we stood and locked hands, ready to walk down the aisle together.
“You already are.”
THE END
