Unexpected After-Prom Consequences - Part 2

Seeing my daughter still vulnerable, I resolve to protect her from being hypnotized by anyone ever again ... except for me. Why I am I so weak?

The rest of the day was a slow, agonizing descent into obsession. I couldn't focus on anything; I couldn't even focus on the silence of the house. Instead, I found myself back in the kitchen, my laptop screen glowing like an altar in the dim light. I watched that after-prom hypnosis stage show video again. And again.

I watched it with a clinical intensity that felt almost predatory. I studied the hypnotist’s eyes, the specific cadence of his voice, the way he used specific phrases to put them into a state of total surrender. But mostly, I watched Emily. She was so beautiful in her mindless state, her chin tilted up, her expression one of pure, vacant bliss. Every time he issued a command, “Walk like a chicken,” “Bark like a dog,” “Sing like Taylor Swift”, she obeyed without a microsecond of hesitation. There was no resistance. No ego. Just total, beautiful submission.

As I watched her surrender her will to a stranger, a heat pooled in my gut that I couldn't suppress. An unwanted, persistent erection made sitting in the chair uncomfortable and all the blood being diverted there made my mind feel cluttered. I tried to shake it off. I went for a hike on the mountainside nearby, hoping the crisp air and the physical exertion would clear my head, but even as I climbed, my mind kept looping back to the video. The rhythm of my footsteps felt like the hypnotist’s voice. “Emily, Sleep. Emily, Sleep.”

By the time I returned, the sun was dipping low, casting long, bruised shadows across the kitchen. I tried to distract myself by cooking, linguini in a pomodoro sauce, her favorite. The smell of garlic and basil usually brought a sense of domestic peace, but today, it felt like a mask for the tension underneath.

When Emily walked into the kitchen, she was her usual self, bright, talkative, slightly groggy from her all-day nap.

"Hey, Dad," she said, sliding into her chair. "Smells good."

"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral as I set a plate in front of her.

"A little weird, honestly," she admitted, twirling pasta around her fork. "That video from last night... it’s so bizarre. I keep thinking, did I really do all that? Did I actually bark like a dog?" She laughed, but there was a hint of unease in her eyes.

"It's just stagecraft, Em," I said. "Don't overthink it."

We ate in a strange sort of normalcy. She told me about the prom, who had broken up with whom, the drama of the senior class, the ridiculousness of the decorations. But as she spoke, I felt like I was navigating a minefield. Every time she mentioned the hypnotist, my pulse quickened.

After dinner, while I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard the faint tinny sound of phone audio from the living room. I walked in to find her sitting on the sofa, the video playing again. But she wasn't laughing. She was staring at the screen, her eyes fixed and glassy. She was back under.

A split-second decision took hold of me. I didn't think; I just acted. I walked over to her, my heart thudding against my ribs.

"Emily," I said, my voice dropping into a low, commanding tone I didn't know I possessed. "Listen to me. That video... it has no power over you anymore. From now on, whenever you watch it, you will stay awake. You will ignore every command that man gives. It will be just like any other video you watch."

She didn't blink. She just sat there, a vessel waiting to be filled.

Then, the battle began. I felt a surge of something dark and possessive, an impulse to claim authority over her life that felt almost too intimate for a father. I fought it for fifteen, maybe twenty seconds, trying to remain "just a dad," but I lost. The desire to exert influence won.

"And one more thing," I commanded, leaning closer than was strictly necessary. "From now on, I, and only I, can put you back into a trance. When I say the words, 'Emily, Sleep,' no matter where we are or what we are doing, those words will put you right back under, deeper and more powerful than any time before."

Her head gave a tiny, infinitesimal nod.

The floodgates opened. Once she was mine to command, I felt a reckless urge to probe the boundaries of her life. I sat on the coffee table in front of her, my questions coming fast, fueled by a mixture of curiosity and a strange, protective jealousy.

"Tell me the truth, Emily," I said. "About your friends. About the guys at school. Have you... have you been sexual with anyone?"

She answered with the blunt honesty of the hypnotized. She spoke of sleepovers, of girls she had played around with, of a few boys who had groped her. But she never actually had intercourse.

"Boys groped you?" I pressed, my jaw tightening. "Tell me about that."

"One guy..." she murmured, her voice a hollow echo. "After the hypnosis show... he surprised me in the hallway. He told me to sleep. And I did. He and another guy... they took me around a corner. They groped my breasts through my shirt. But I don't remember it when awake. I only know it when I’m hypnotized."

A flash of fury ignited in my chest. Only when she's hypnotized? So, if someone else could trigger her state and take advantage of her vulnerability, then I was being too passive. I needed to set boundaries, not just for her safety, but for my own peace of mind. But at the same time, my hypocrisy fueled my guilt. How was I any better than the boys that already did essentially the same thing? I didn’t touch her, I reasoned. And I’m her father! They had no right, and I needed to protect her from them doing it to her again. Horny high school boys won’t just let it slide without trying again. Or telling others.

"Listen to me," I said, my voice hardening. "If anyone else tries to put you under like that, you will play along for a minute just to see what they want. And then, you will surprise them. You'll wake up and make fun of them for thinking it would work. But if they touch your body inappropriately... you will punch them in the nose and walk away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad," she droned.

I realized I was pushing too hard. I was breaching her privacy, treating her like property rather than a daughter. I needed to pull back before I crossed a line I couldn't uncross.

"Wake up," I said, snapping my fingers sharply.

Her eyes flickered, the glaze vanishing as she blinked at me, looking slightly confused. "Oh... sorry. Did I drift off?"

"Just a bit," I said, forcing a smile. "How about we watch The Tomorrow War? You know, our favorite. We need to study up for when the world needs a kickass father-daughter team to save it for real."

She smiled, a genuine, warm expression that made my chest ache. "I'd love that."

We watched the movie, but I was a ghost in the room. My mind was elsewhere, calculating, testing, yearning. When the movie ended and she headed upstairs to shower, echoes of barely 13 hours before were muddying my head, and I found myself standing in the hallway, paralyzed by the same inner turmoil.

I waited outside the bathroom door. I heard the water running. I knew she was in there, naked, vulnerable, and completely unaware of my proximity. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. When the water stopped and the door creaked open, she stepped out, wrapped only in a towel, her skin flushed from the heat.

I didn't let myself think. I just tested the tether I had created.

"Emily, Sleep."

She froze mid-step. Her eyes went vacant instantly, her shoulders dropping as she entered that beautiful, terrifying trance. I stared at her towel-wrapped body, afraid to cross that line that separated me from the boys at school that violated her. Then my mind without warning shifted into gear and started me moving right through a loophole that wasn’t there a moment ago...

"Your mother always used to sleep naked," I said, my voice trembling slightly. I was weaving a web of suggestion, blending memory with command. "You should do the same. Just like her. It's your idea that you thought of to feel more like mom now that you are older. And you are used to me seeing you that way... just like Sarah was." What the hell am I doing?

I snapped my fingers. "Wake up."

She blinked, looking at me with a strange, dreamy smile, then walked into her room, set the towel aside, and then, to my absolute shock, she walked back toward me.

"Thanks for movie time, Dad," she whispered. Before I could react, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me in a warm, naked hug. Her skin was damp and soft against my clothes. It was a gesture of pure, innocent affection, but to me, it felt like an electric shock.

"Goodnight, love you!" she said, slipping into her room and sliding under the covers, just like this morning.

I retreated to my own bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. My mind was a chaotic mess of Sarah’s ghost and Emily’s reality. I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, fighting the urge to succumb to the tension, trying to find a way to be just a father while my body insisted on being something much more depraved. I fell asleep with one hand clenched in the sheets, the other hand clenched around something much harder.