Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist Ch. 06

Yeah, maybe.

Only one way to find out.

I gathered myself up and walked into my bedroom.

As I walked in, I saw Marsha sitting on my side of the bed, obviously waiting for me. She looked up and stared at me, her face a neutral mask, as she used a tissue to blot tears from her eyes.

Not a good sign.

"Marsha, let me...," I stammered before she cut me off.

"Wait. Just wait. Right now, I am a confused jumble of emotions. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen."

I closed my mouth and waited.

"I saw you and Chani, just now."

My stomach dropped, "Marsha, please, let me..."

Once again, she cut me off, "Quiet. It's my turn to talk."

I couldn't read her. There was anger in her voice, but also sadness, something else too. I'm pretty good at reading people, especially my wife, but at this moment, I had no idea what was going on in her head.

I considered dropping her into hypnosis and trying to edit her memories again, but something held me back. I guess it was my confusion as to her mood. I needed to hear her out.

"At first," she continued, "I was enraged. Our daughter was lying naked in her bed, and you were laying over top of her, kissing her. I almost screamed, but then I remembered something.

"I never told you about this, and I don't know why. At first, it was just private, I guess. It just didn't concern you.

"As the years went on, and we built our life together, I guess I pushed it to the back of my mind. I never really thought about it anymore.

"And, after my father died, I guess I didn't want to think about it anymore."

"Marsha, I don't understand, what are you...," I tried to ask before she again rebuked me.

"God dammint! Please! Stop! Talking!" Her tone was loud, angry even, but she quickly calmed and added, "Please, I just need to talk."

I nodded, in the way of an apology, and otherwise remained silent.

"The thing I never told you was that my father was my first." She paused and searched my face for a response. Her own face betrayed the guilt she was feeling.

Whether that guilt was because of what she shared (or believed she shared - it was all a false memory that I implanted) with her father, or if it was guilt for keeping this secret from me, I couldn't tell.

"I loved him so much. He taught me. He guided me. And most of all, he loved me. We shared so much together. Our relationship was so much more than father and daughter, we were friends and lovers.

"As I got older and started dating seriously, he stepped back. He gave me the space I needed to find my own way, but he was still there to support me when needed it.

"The last time that he and I were together was just before our wedding night," she looked me in the eyes, indicating that the wedding she was talking about was hers and mine.

"I can't express how meaningful that relationship was to me. How much it helped me. It was one of the most beautiful aspects of my life, and I haven't thought about it in a long, long time. I can't even remember the last time it even crossed my mind."

Ah, this was starting to make sense now. Marsha was, perhaps, mad at me for what she saw, but at the same time, she was being overwhelmed by guilt. Guilt for keeping this "secret" from me, and guilt for "forgetting" such an essential part of herself. She likely felt like she had dishonored her father's memory.

Of course, the reality was that she hadn't forgotten him or their relationship. Until tonight, when I implanted the false memories into her subconscious, that relationship had never existed.

She had no memories of fondly reminiscing about her first true love. She had likely thought about her father and her childhood often (as often as anyone does). Yet, she never thought about their unique relationship.

Her mind was struggling to reconcile this inconsistency and had decided on a path of guilt.

Damnit! I hate seeing my wife cry. That's especially true when I know that I'm the one who caused it. In this case, I was absolutely the one who caused it, but, in her mind, the blame rested squarely on her shoulders.

Though truth be told, this is a relatively mild reaction to false memories. They can go much, much worse. I was pretty sure that Marsha could work through this.

And, as much of a shitbag that I am for saying it, with her focused on her guilt, it might help her to more readily accept what happened between Chani and me.

"When I saw you and Chani," she continued, "I almost screamed, but then I heard you talking. I heard you tell her how much you loved her, and I heard her tell you just how strongly she felt in return.

"As I listened, the memories of my father came rushing back to me.

"I was filled with a sense of love and loss, it was so confusing.

"As I watched you two, it just seemed so... beautiful, so... familiar, and so right.

"I cried, watching you. There were tears of happiness and tears of sadness. It was all just so confusing.

"After you finished, I snuck back here, and I've been sitting here trying to get my head on straight for the past few minutes.

"I've still got a lot of thinking to do, but I know for a fact that I am so mad at you.

"You should have talked to me first. Look, the truth is I'm happy for you two. I'm excited even. I'm thrilled that my daughter will be able to experience something that was so important to my childhood.

"If you had come to me, I would have given my approval without hesitation.

"But you didn't. You went behind my back. It feels like you lied to me. I'm hurt, and I'm angry.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I sighed, "Yes. You're right. I should have talked to you. I'm sorry."

This conversation was surreal. It felt more like the time I spent several hundred dollars on the latest PlayStation without first consulting Marsha. She was similarly angry with me and got over it pretty quick.

My wife just caught me having sex, effectively, with our daughter, and she was treating it like the time I had promised to clean the basement, and instead watched the game with my friends.

Like I said, surreal.

"Still," Marsha began again, "I'm so happy for Chani, and in some weird way... I'm proud of you for taking the initiative to help our daughter. Come here."

Marsha held out her arms, and I walked to her and embraced her. To my relief, she returned my hug with enthusiasm.

"I noticed," Marsha continued, "that you only focused on Chani. You must be bursting at the seams." She reached a hand down and cupped my member through my pants.

I wasn't entirely sure how to respond. I didn't want to act as if all was forgiven just yet, that might reignite my wife's ire. So I just said, "Yeah, I guess."

Marsha craned her neck up and kissed me on the lips.

"Oh," she said, pulling back. "That's something I haven't tasted in a long time."

"What?" I asked dimwittedly.

"Another woman's pussy. I just tasted our daughter's pussy on your lips," she answered, a little mischevious grin on her face.

"Funny you should mention that," I said in response. "Because if you're really interested in helping Chani, there's something I want to discuss with you."

"Go on...," Marsha said tentatively. Her voice taking on a more serious tone.

"Well, Chani said some things tonight, did some things tonight. I think she may be more interested in girls than boys."

"And," I added with extra emphasis, "I think she might be interested... in you."

My wife just stared blankly for a minute until finally, she shook her head as if shivering. "You know what? I had enough emotional upheaval tonight, so I'm not going to deal with that right now.

"I will, however, entertain any relevant proposals, in the form of your special brand of twisted dirty talk, while you proceed to fuck my brains out."

She tightened her "hug" and fell backward onto the bed, bringing me with her.

"Sound good to you..., Daddy?"

Hey, Hypno Wolf here. Thanks for reading!

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This story includes a fictional portrayal of erotic hypnosis performed by a horrible person in a horrible way. It is FICTION, and I do not condone the acts described in this STORY.

Thanks,

Hypno Wolf