This is entirely a work of fiction. It depicts a use of hypnosis which is totally unethical, immoral, and, most likely, illegal. The protagonist is a vigilante, and however well intentioned, deserves to be punished as much as his target . Still, I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know. Feedback is appreciated. If it is signed, I will try to answer. Jb7
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Sam picked up his ringing cell phone. It was the evening security at his wife's, Barb, office building. He would not forget this May evening.
"Mr. Gregory, your wife asked me to call you, to come pick her up. She looks like she's in pretty bad shape--like she's had too much to drink."
That puzzled Sam. Barb had been battling a cold, using a prescription strength codeine syrup, cut with alcohol. She knew even a glass of wine or beer would put her into la-la land. He was on his way in minutes. When he arrived, she was waiting at the security desk, sitting down, nearly unconscious,
He helped her to the car. As he lifted her legs into the car he felt something wet and sticky on her legs. He sniffed his hand--there was no doubt about what it was. He lifted Barb's skirt. There was more of the sticky, white fluid, and her panties were missing.
Sam returned to the security desk. Saying he wanted to ask about when she had started acting strangely, Sam asked the security personnel who else from his wife's company, Wilson, et al, had been working that evening. He learned Jared Richards, her supervisor, and Harry Peters, his boss, had both worked late that evening. Richards had only worked about three quarters of an hour, but Peters had checked out about the time security had called him.
Both names were well known to Sam. Barb talked about them frequently, not always in a complimentary manner. Peters especially, seemed to catch her ire for his constant touching and standing over her whenever she wore anything with a bit of an open neck. As he returned to the car and his wife, Sam thought to himself, "Okay, Harry, an eye for an eye."
When Sam wasn't rescuing his wife, he taught at the Medical School, in the anesthesiology department. His specialty was the medical use of hypnosis as an alternative to chemical anesthetics. As a student, he had kept himself in beer money putting on shows at frats, sororities, adult birthdays, office parties and such. Even now, as a favor for people who knew him when, he would sometimes perform. And Barb was on the planning committee for her firm's holiday party.
Their first stop was the hospital. He had colleagues draw a blood sample to check her alcohol and codeine levels. He also had them run a rape kit, and had them send the swab for DNA testing. When his friends asked about reporting the incident, he told them he would exact his own brand of justice.
At home, he used Barb's trigger phrase to put her into a deep trance and used hypnotic regression to find out exactly what had happened . As he suspected, after her supervisor, Jared, had left, Harry had poured Barb and himself a glass of wine and used his authority to make her drink, knowing she had already taken some of her cough syrup. He had even commented at the time that she should be careful how much she drank since she was using such a potent medication.
Under hypnosis, Barb commented that it seemed not to matter how much she drank, her glass was always full when she went to drink, but she thought she had probably consumed two or three full glasses of wine at her supervisor's urging. After Jared left, Harry had become bolder with his touching, openly fondling her breasts and ass, ignoring her pleas for him to stop. The combination of medicine and wine had finally become more than she could withstand. And she passed out. Sam didn't need her input to know what had happened after that.
He helped her into the bathroom and drew her a bath while she stripped. As she soaked in the tub, Sam let the memory of the night's events bubble back into her consciousness. He watched as first the memory, then anger, and finally realization set in. "That mother fucking bastard!" she hissed. "That cocksucking pig! Did you beat him?"
Sam shook his head. "He was gone when I arrived and discovered what had happened. I took you to Mercy and had you checked out, had Samantha run a rape kit and draw some blood samples. If we decide to go the police route, we can nail the bastard."
Barb looked at him, grinning. "If we go the police route? You have a plan! Do I get to participate in the good stuff?"
"If you want. This is what I was thinking..."
By September, things had improved markedly for Barb at work. Most importantly, she had been promoted out of Harry Peters' department, and now worked for the VP/customer service's administrative assistant. There was no more after hours work, and she was responsible to no one but her immediate supervisor, and Jane Draper, the VP, who also happened to be Harry's boss.
Her new job gave her ample freedom to participate on the holiday planning committee. Her suggestion about a professional hypnotist was met with enthusiasm. Under Sam's direction, their relationship remained secret. He instructed her to approach Harry about volunteering himself and his wife as subjects, playing on his ego, his desire to look good to VP Draper, a desire to get close to Barb again, and a tiny niggle of guilt (very tiny). Harry agreed, and further agreed to have his wife, Lydia, come to the office one afternoon to meet with Harry and the performer for a 'warm-up' session.
The meeting took place about a week before the party, at the end of the work day. As Sam was explaining the purpose of the meeting, their daughter, Patti, who had just started in the mail room, stuck her head in the door to see if her father was ready to go home. Sam invited her to join them. Under the guise of letting them know what to expect at the party, he hypnotized the three of them and provided them with trigger words, effective only with him.
He gave Harry the instruction that while in his trance, he would answer any question by Lydia truthfully. He also instructed him that whenever his wife or daughter, while on stage, used the word fuck or any of its euphemisms, in any combination, or cocksucker, or its substitutes, or any of the 547 ways of referring to either male or female genitalia, and any form of the rest of George Carlin's forbidden words, Harry would forcefully grab his nuts and squeeze them. The more frank and graphic their language, the more forcefully he would comply. And he would do his best to keep up, one grab and squeeze for each time he heard any of the words.
He then removed all inhibitions about using those expressions from the women. He also suggested to them that they would find the freedom to use the vulgarities pleasurable, and the more frequently they used them, the greater the pleasure, approaching orgasm. He gave the family collectively, and individually, several more instructions for the night of the party.
He then gave the three of them the instruction that they would not remember this meeting, and they would all remain at home the day after the holiday party.
The night of the party, Sam had a volunteer sign up station at the door to the party room, with a brief explanation of what the subjects could expect, without giving away what the act would consist of. When he came onstage, a large bowl with several slips of paper was waiting for him. He did his introductory spiel, explaining what hypnotism was, and enforcing the caveat that a person under hypnosis could not be made to do something they would not ordinarily do. That said, he reached into the bowl and withdrew a slip of paper and read it aloud:
"The Peters family. Wow, a whole family! How many of you are there?"He looked into the audience to see Harry, Lydia, and Patti approaching the stage area. "Three, that's a good number."
When they were up on stage, Sam asked them to introduce themselves. He then took Harry to one side of the stage. "Harry, have we ever met before?"
"Not that I recall."
"Have you ever been hypnotized before?"
"No."
"I want you to turn and face me, square on, and focus on my finger here. As it moves toward you, your eyes will get heavier, needing to close, and you will feel yourself slipping into a trance state. When I touch your forehead and say the word sleep, you eyes will close and you will be in a trance." When he finished the instruction, Sam's finger touched Harry's forehead, just below the hairline, in the middle of his brow, and Harry was in the trance Sam had preprogrammed him for.
"Can you hear me, Harry?"
