Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist

After the craziness of the night before, I was glad to sleep in that Sunday morning.

In addition to my indulgence, I was also gratified to see that both Marsha, my wife, and Chani, our eighteen-year-old daughter, also slept in.

I wasn't quite sure how things would play out once the girls were awake. After all, Marsha went to bed feeling very confused, conflicted, and just generally upset.

Hopefully, our hypnosis session had taken care of that, but we'd yet to see.

Chani, on the other hand, seemed fine when she went to bed. But, with how crazy things had been over the past few days, anything was possible.

My worries were for naught, however. Both my wife and daughter eventually woke and went about their day. It was a completely unremarkable Sunday.

Well, mostly unremarkable.

There was something different. Something that had never occurred in my house before. It was my daughter's behavior.

Like a schoolgirl in love—which I guess was very apropos—she openly and frequently found ways to demonstrate her affection for me, her 'secret boyfriend.'

Several times I caught her staring at me with a silly grin on her face. When passing by each other, she made a point to steal a kiss. When I addressed her, she would respond with, "Yes, dear?" or "Okay handsome."

I certainly wasn't doing anything to discourage this behavior. In fact, I enjoyed it. What man wouldn't want a beautiful, sexy, young woman going out of her way to reaffirm her love and affection toward him?

Late in the afternoon, all the gentle kisses, lingering touches, and 'accidental' brushes of her breasts against my arm or her hand against my crotch had worn me down. As Chani went in for another flirtatious kiss, I pounced.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pressed into my daughter, forcing her against the wall as I preempted her intended peck with something much more passionate. And that one kiss turned into an impromptu make-out session.

We had been carrying on for two or three minutes when I looked up to see my wife watching us.

Instinctively I froze, but quickly relaxed again when I saw the smile on Marsha's face. Her expression made it apparent that she was happy for Chani and me to be sharing this moment.

Besides her happiness, there was something else in her eyes. It was a look of lust, a look that drew me in.

My arms were wrapped around Chani, and her's around me. Our mouths groped. Our tongues danced. But my eyes, my eyes fixated on Marsha.

As I stared, Marsha broke the gaze and glanced down. I followed her eyes and made a remarkable discovery. Marsha had pulled her skirt up around her waist and was holding it with her left hand. Meanwhile, her right hand was inside her panties, slowly and sensually fondling her sex.

Marsha allowed me to watch her play with herself for a few seconds before retracting her hand and letting her skirt fall back into place.

Then, she slowly brought that same hand up, seductively, to taste herself before holding her index finger to her lips, indicating I should be quiet.

Next, she crooked her finger into a summoning, "come hither" sort of motion before abruptly turning and heading into our bedroom.

It was time to wrap things up with my daughter.

I'd been enjoying making-out with Chani, but making-out is NOT a standalone activity. For me, it is a precursor to sex. Like most men, I tolerate making-out because I know it's likely to lead to something more.

Women, especially young women like Chani, have a very different view. They are often happy to make-out and nothing more, leaving their boyfriends frustrated (and sometimes angry).

To be fair, I had agreed to a 'second-base rule' with Chani. Sure, different people interpret the 'bases' differently. But for us, it meant nothing below the waist. And, right now, my 'below the waist' was desperately in need of some attention.

I had figured I'd take care of it myself later, but if Marsha was offering, who was I to say, "No"?

Over a minute or two, I slowed things down with Chani, then disengaged.

I told her how amazing she is, how beautiful she is, and how incredible she makes me feel.

I finished by telling her how much I was looking forward to picking this up again soon before giving her one more kiss and walking away to find my horny wife.

------------------

Over the next few days, we found a new 'normal' around the house.

Marsha and I had work, and Chani had school. All of that remained the same. Even our home life was mostly the same. The things we used to do, we were still doing. Activities such as cooking, cleaning, shopping, homework, etc., were happening just like they always had. Essentially, life was about 95% the same.

There were some marked differences, however.

The relationship between my daughter and me was very different. Instead of just being a loving and supportive father, I was also now a boyfriend. I was doing a lot less of the 'dad' things like assigning chores, offering advice, or acting busy when Chani wanted to talk about the drama in her life.

Instead, I was doing a lot more flirting, petting, and feigning interest in things like bands. (To be honest, though, Chani was pretty mature for her age, so conversation with her wasn't unbearable. Far from it.)

Meanwhile, much of my old fatherly duties fell to my wife. And again, Chani was pretty mature, so she didn't need a whole lot of parenting. As such, Marsha wasn't overly burdened by the added responsibilities.

After the display of mother/daughter physical affection the other night, I was very curious to see if there were other changes in their relationship. But, nothing seemed to manifest. Maybe it was because Marsha had to pull back on being a "friend" to fill both parents' roll. Or, perhaps it was because what happened had been fueled by alcohol. (I have certainly seen plenty of women lose their inhibitions when alcohol is involved.) Regardless, their relationship seemed mostly the same as it was before.

Probably the most significant change for me was spending the night with my daughter. It wasn't every night, but I retired to Chani's bedroom instead of my own on a couple of evenings.

With the 'second-base rule' fully intact, we mostly talked with a heavy dose of making-out thrown in for good measure. Though, I genuinely tried to make it about more than just the physical aspect of our relationship.

While it was true that this whole situation was mostly a cover for my perverted ambitions, I figured I should at least play my part to the fullest and try to be a good 'boyfriend' for my daughter.

That said, I wasn't just a supportive boyfriend during our nights together. On the contrary, I took those opportunities to hypnotize Chani and reinforce her feelings toward me.

I had to be careful. I was concerned that Marsha might be spying on us, but even if she was listening in on the other side of Chani's bedroom door, there's nothing suspicious about two 'young lovers' whispering to each other. So, I just made sure to keep the hypnosis sessions quite.

Another noticeable change in the house was with Marsha's attitude toward me, which she opened up about one evening.

"It's weird," she started. "I see what you're doing for Chani. How you've been so kind and loving toward her. How you really are being an excellent example of what she should expect in her future relationships. It makes me so proud of you. It makes me so happy. It makes me love you even more than I already did.

"And yet," she continued, "at the same time, I have feelings of jealousy, maybe even resentment. Which then makes me feel guilty for having such feelings. It's been a bit confusing."

I was already aware of the jealousy. It was the only thing that explained Marsha's recent increased libido. Not only was she much more horny than usual, but she was also acting much more adventurous during sex, and she was mostly focusing on my pleasure. I had suspected it was her way of saying, "See, I can please you. I'm you're woman. You don't need anyone else."

It had really been working for me because spending all this time with Chani was incredibly sexually frustrating. Whenever it got to be too much, I would get Marsha alone, and she'd inevitably be up for a romp. It had only been a few days, but we were fucking like back when we first met.

I listened to Marsha go on for a bit more. She's my wife. I love her, and I want her to be happy. And, I want this thing with Chani to work out for as long as possible. So, I was more than happy to listen to and address my wife's feelings.

There wasn't a whole lot I could do, though, other than listening. So that's what I did. (Well, listen AND, much like Chani, I'd hypnotize her to reinforce her new feelings and attitudes on the nights I'd spend with her.)

And that's how things went for our first week with this new dynamic. Things were working out, and we were compensating for the few—and minor—hiccups.

Time passed quickly, and it had me excitedly anticipating the ending of our 'second-base rule' in a little over three weeks.

If we could avoid any complications, I'd be balls-deep in my daughter in no time.

"Avoid any complications..." Yeah, having two women under the same roof is a living, breathing complication, so I should have been expecting it when my girls sprung their "fabulous idea" on me first thing Saturday morning.

"Umm, Dad," Chani started, obviously afraid of how I was about to respond. "Umm, there's this thing, and look, you don't have to, but I thought I'd be fun, I mean only if you think it'd be fun..."

"James, listen," Marsha cut in, clearly eager to bypass Chani's uncharacteristic uncertainty. "There's a Halloween party that Chani wants to attend. She was supposed to go with Jessie, but well, you know. This is an important time in a young woman's life, and even though parties aren't really your thing, I think, as her 'boyfriend,' you should take Chani to this party and show her a good time."

"Uh...," I allowed my brain a couple of seconds to catch up to everything that had just been spewed at me. "Okay, so there's a Halloween party...I'm assuming it's tonight?"

"Yeah, tonight," Chani clarified.

"Tonight," I repeated. "There's a party...tonight...for, I presume, Chani's high school classmates. And, you want me, a clearly not high-school-aged man, to go with her?" I asked, obviously dubious.

"Yes, and relax," Marsha replied, somewhat exasperated, as if my objections were invalid. "We've thought of everything.

"Really?" I responded, still unconvinced. "Please, enlighten me."

"It's simple. We're going to dress you up as...actually, it was Chani's idea; I'll let her explain," Marsha looked at our daughter, prompting her to take over.

"Well, first, daddy, I really want to go, and more than anything, I want to go with you. So please hear me out." She looked so excited and called me "daddy"... my ability to resist was crumbling.

"I knew that we couldn't show your face, but it's Halloween, so that's not too much of a problem. The real problem, as I saw it, was your voice. We needed a costume which would give you an excuse not to talk. And that's how I came up with it." She was beaming, obviously proud.

"Great, and what exactly is IT?" I prompted.

Her smile growing even wider, she told me, "We'll be mummies going to prom. I have my dress from last year, and I vaguely remembered you owning a tuxedo, which mom confirmed."

"That's a cute costume idea. But how, exactly, does that solve the problem of me talking with your friends at this party?" I enquired.

"Simple, you're a mummy. Mummies don't speak; they groan and shuffle around," Chani stated as if it was patently obvious.

"You sure you're not thinking of zombies? I'm pretty sure Boris Karloff spoke," I added though it was clear that no one cared.

"Huh?" Chani obviously had no idea what I was talking about, and my wife just rolled her eyes.

"The Brendan Fraser mummy spoke too, a lot...," I added under my breath, but again no one cared. So I thought it best to move on to my next objection.

"Okay, admittedly, that's a pretty good idea, but I haven't worn that tux in years. I doubt I'll fit into it," I said, looking down and rubbing my gut with a look of mild embarrassment on my face.

"We thought of that," Marsha chimed in. (Oh good, they took my gut into account. Sigh...) "If we need to leave it a little opened up, we'll stick some bandages in there. You'll look like a disheveled mummy.

"And, as a mummy," Chani started in again, "if anyone tries to talk to you, all you have to do is moan a response. You'll just be 'in character' all night."

"Won't people be suspicious?" I asked.

"Okay, first off, my dear, that's pretty much how you act at parties anyway," my wife added helpfully.

"And second off," Chani took over, "I'm going to tell people you don't go to our school and you're a little shy. I think they'll leave you alone."

I sighed, "Fine, I won't lie. This isn't my first choice. But," I quickly added before Chani became crestfallen, "You've planned it out. And if it will make you happy, then I'll be happy to go. Hell, it might even be fun."

----------

Several hours later, I was all dressed up, and we were heading to the party.

I had to admit, the costume worked. The girls had really thought it through. They had bought a cheap generic mask and glued the bandages to it so that I could quickly and easily remove it. And they did something similar with the hands and a cheap pair of gardening gloves.

Marsha drove us, which felt a bit weird, but they both insisted. They wanted to keep up appearances, and me driving Chani in my car may have been weird.

These were her friends, after all. Someone might recognize the car. And, even if that was unlikely, I guess it made sense to be safe.

Plus, if anyone asked, and I don't think they did, Chani could just say her parents insisted, since there was likely to be drinking at the party.

To my surprise, the party wasn't half bad. I'm not typically a party person, but it was rather fun to pretend to be young again.

Plus, and let's just be honest here, Halloween is pretty much an excuse for women to dress like absolute whores, and the ladies at this party did not disappoint. Between the suggestive dancing and constant, sexy selfie-snapping, the spectacle fully occupied my male brain. Hell, I barely noticed how terrible the music was.

Even Chani had somehow figured out a way—with her mother's help, no doubt—to turn 'prom-mummy' into 'sexy prom-mummy.' Not that I was complaining. She looked incredible.

The first couple of hours were mostly dancing and drinking. I've never been one for drinking, and I was prepared to fake it by walking around with an empty solo cup all night. But, the first time someone offered me a drink, Chani just said, "Oh, he doesn't really drink." and that was it.

I guess that kinda blew a hole in the whole 'driven by mom' thing, but nobody seemed to ask or care.

In fact, I was overall rather impressed with just how chill this party was. Everyone was having a good time, but no one was going crazy.

Don't get me wrong, two hours in, and there were definitely a few drunk kids. But for a high school party, everyone was pretty responsible.

To my surprise, Chani's best friend Jessie was at the party. (Former best friend? I wasn't sure how that whole thing was playing out.)

Initially, the two girls mostly avoided each other. Eventually, though, after they each had a few drinks in them, Jessie came over to introduce herself. I groaned a, "Nice to meet you," in my best mummy voice. Chani apologized and said that I insisted on being in character.

Feeling like it was best for me to be scarce, I wandered off as the two girls got to talking.

I couldn't hear much of the conversation, but I did hear Chani say "boyfriend" as she looked at me, to which Jessie gave her a somewhat startled look.

Maybe she was hurt that Chani hadn't told her. After all, they had been best friends for years, and, as I understood it, their current rift was due to a boy.

About twenty minutes later, Chani found me sitting on the couch watching the few remaining dancers. As best as I could tell, these were all the single girls and guys as the couples had all peeled off to find dark corners a little while ago.

I had been entertaining myself by predicting who would end up with whom and how many more drinks it would take for it to happen. Thus far, I was only 0 for 3, but it was still a fun way to pass the time.

"Hey, handsome," Chani said as she plopped down in my lap. "Sorry to abandon you, but I wanted to talk with Jessie."

"No worries," I responded before catching myself and switching my voice to a whisper, "I mean... No worries. Everything good between you two?" A quick glance around showed no one noticed my middle-aged man's voice (or they were too drunk to care.)

"Yeah, as good as it's going to get for now. But let's not talk about that. Instead, let's talk about what Jessie told me," she said with a conspiratorial tone in her voice.

Based on the slight slur in her voice and the smell on her breath, I could guess that Chani and Jessie had enjoyed a few shots together. Whatever, it's a party. And, if it took a little booze to get the girls talking again, I certainly wasn't going to be upset about it.

"Apparently," Chani continued. "Hunter's dad...oh, did I tell you we're at Hunter's house?"

"Yeah, I think you mentioned it," I whispered back.

"Well, Hunter's dad keeps his study locked, so no one's been able to sneak off into that room."

"Seems like a good policy," I whisper-replied, a bit leary of getting drawn into a drunk conversation. (I do hate drunk conversations.)

"And," she continued, ignoring me. "Little Sherlock Drew...err...Nancy Holmes...wait..."

"I was always more of a Hardy Boys fan," I interjected.

"Huh? Anyway, Jessie just happened to notice a key hanging up in the kitchen labeled 'office.'"

Oh boy, this was feeling more and more like a drunk conversation.

"Which means she solved the case," I said with a dash of faux enthusiasm and a big scoop of sarcasm. "I bet he would have gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for you pesky kids and that mangy dog."

"Hehe, you're so funny."

Oh boy, the dreaded "you're so funny," my daughter was drunk.

"No, Daddy...," she started seductively.

"Shhh, Chani! Don't call me that," I said quickly, looking around.

She just rolled her eyes and continued. "No, Daddy," this time she emphasized the word. "It means that unlike the bedrooms, and the closets, and the kitchen counter... no one is in there."

"Oh," was all I could say as my fully sober brain started to comprehend where my inebriated daughter was going with this.

"It means," she continued, "we'd be all alone. Just us and the desk, and the bookshelves, and...the big, overstuffed leather couch."

"Oh," I added, starting to climb on board her train of thought.

"It means," she said, this time leaning in and whispering in my ear, "no Jessie, no Hunter, no classmates...no...Mommy...and...none of Mommy's rules. Specifically..." she drew out this last bit, "no silly 'second-base rule.'"

"Ohhhh," I said slowly as I began to fully comprehend what Chani was implying. Praise be to the gods of alcohol!

With that, Chani jumped out of my lap, grabbed me by the hand, and lead me through the house. When we got to the office, Chani produced the key and unlocked the door with minimal fumbling.

"Oh, it worked," she exclaimed.

"You didn't know if it would work?"

"Well, no. Jessie didn't test it. She grabbed it earlier in case Cody showed up so that they could have the room to themselves. But he was a no-show, so she gave the key to me."

"Cody, isn't he the boy she was upset with you about?" I asked, trying to remember the argument that started Chani and Jessica's falling out.