Since you have no idea who this woman is, you have trouble thinking of changes to make. While you could make her tell you, that’s potentially a lot of exposition you’d have to dig for. As you ponder how to mess with her, you notice the lack of a wedding ring. Perhaps you could start there.
“You’re married,” you tell her straight up.
“I’m…m-married?” She asks, a little fear detectable in her voice.
“Yes…you are married.”
“Married…I’m married…” she repeats, submissively. She swishes her hair back nervously, and as she does you notice a nice ring appear on her right hand, signifying that reality is now changed.
“You think and behave like a married woman,” you add.
“Think and behave…like a married woman…”she says. Her expression, revitalized once you gave her the suggestion, looks a tiny bit more relaxed and mature, as if she was now more fulfilled as a person. “Married woman…think and behave…” she whispers incoherently, as if she needed to hear the words come out of her mouth again. Not much is visibly different, though, and you still know nothing about her life that you are altering. You need to fill in those holes.
“You’ve been married thirty years,” you tell her.
“Thir…thirty y-years,” She says, sounding a bit surprised at the number as her face lights up with amazement. “Yes…I’ve been married thirty years…”
As she speaks, her eyes open wide, presumably as the countless memories of being married for so long become burrowed in her brain. You find it odd she wasn’t married before, but that’s none of your business now.
“You’re a housewife, too,” you tell her, getting a little excited.
For the first time, she pauses for just a second, her face appearing confused. “I…a-am a housewife? N-no…” she resists, catching you off guard. It seems you have hit a breaking point for her. Maybe, even after your changes, she’s still not the complacent type. If this pendulum indeed cannot fail, this is nothing you can’t fix. Perhaps you can take a different approach.
“You were raised to believe women belong in the home,” you tell her.
“I was raised to…to what?” She asks, clutching her temple.
“To believe women belong in the home.”
“I was raised…was r-raised…” she struggles, the memories of her upbringing certainly reshuffling on the spot. “I was raised to believe w-women… belong in the home.”
“You’ve always believed women belong in the home.”
“I-I’ve…always…believed…” she begins, appearing in pain for a second before giving in, lowering her head submissively. “Women…yes…women belong in the home.”
“You believe it wholeheartedly.”
“Oh…I believe it….wholeheartedly,” she says as her body trembles. Now, there’s not a trace of reluctance in her voice. You’ve changed her entire belief system; time to really go in for the kill.
“YOU belong in the home.”
“Oooah…” she moans, shivering from head to toe. “I-I belong in…in the home.”
You can’t help but smile. She’s changed beyond recognition. Now, her entire life, she’s been fed traditional gender roles. And she believes them.
“Let’s try this again: you’re a housewife.”
“I’m…of course I’m a housewife,” she asserts, a little defensive. It makes sense, given that her personal beliefs had changed, so would her fate in her marriage. Now that you thought of that, you notice the ring on her finger is different, alluding to the fact that your changes also changed the man she married three decades ago.
“And you love being a housewife.”
“I love being a housewife!” She exclaims euphorically. Now, you figure, she must be an avid cook and cleaner and shopper. But she still kind of looks like an old lady; she still basically looks the same since you began.
“Being attractive is a very important part of being a housewife,” you tell her with a stern voice.
“Being attra…attractive…” she begins. “Is a very important part of being a housewife.
“Being attractive is very important to you.”
She lets out a quiet moan. “Being attractive is very important to m-me…”
Her appearance also begins to change again. She’s now wearing a nice-looking bracelet on her left arm and a shiny band around her waist. Her hair loses its bangs and is just a little longer, now creeping past her shoulders with a more loose style. She’s a bit curvier now, her ass notably larger. Her nails are painted white, her lips are redder, and her makeup is more pronounced, making it look as if she shaved off a few years. Those little changes actually looks far more attractive now. The only thing still wrong with her is…her saggy chest.
“You have perfectly shaped breasts,” you add, almost offhandedly.
“I have…perfectly shaped breasts…” she affirms, and you watch with amazement as her boobs rise up and morph into beautiful, bodacious spheres hanging from her chest. With that last change, she’s at last complete. She’s a work of art. Whomever her husband is is a lucky traditionalist man. The kicker is that you still don’t know this woman’s name.
“What’s your first name, sweetheart?” You ask your newly-minted housewife.
“Claudia…” she murmurs softly. You don’t like it.
“You have no memory of that name,” you declare vehemently.
“I-I…um…my na…name…” she sputters, her name already visibly gone from her memory.
“You have absolutely no memory of that name.”
She is silent for a moment before responding. “I…what name?” She asks, a little sad. She has no first name. Or at least she doesn’t remember it.
“Your first name is Claire.”
“Claire…that’s m-my name…” she says, visibly relieved. That’s her name now. Always has been.
And Claire is one busty, beautiful, dutiful housewife.