Wife Hypnotized
Copyright© 2025 by Chris nevermind
Chapter 3
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Husband's always been fascinated by hypnosis to the point he went to college for it would do little things for people in a small little practice he had Smokey and female biting Etc then he turned to his attention to incest it's fascination was uncontrollable at some point.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma Fa Hypnosis Mind Control Reluctant Slavery BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Slut Wife Oral Sex Voyeurism
The key in the lock sounded like a gunshot in the quiet house. I frowned. Irene should have been home, and she was never this silent. The air in the living room was stale, thick with an energy that made the hairs on my arm stand up.
And then I saw them.
The key in the lock sounded like a gunshot in the quiet house. I frowned. Irene should have been home, and she was never this silent. The air in the living room was stale, thick with an energy that made the hairs on my arm stand up. And then I saw them.
My wife, Irene, stood perfectly still in the center of the room, her back to me. Her posture was ramrod straight, her arms limp at her sides. It was the same vacant, beautiful statue I had crafted so many times myself. But I hadn’t done this.
Jacob, the kid from across the street, was frozen a few feet away, his wide eyes darting between Irene and me like a cornered animal. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and his hands twitched at his sides as if he didn’t know whether to run or stay. His chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying the panic he was trying to mask. He looked guilty. Desperate. And in that moment, I knew he had figured out my secret—or at least a piece of it.
The boy, Jacob from across the street, was standing right in front of her, his face pale, his hand frozen mid-air, inches from her cheek. His eyes, wide and panicked, snapped to mine.
A deer caught in the headlights.
Rage, hot and immediate, flooded my veins. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snarled, my voice low and dangerous.
He jerked his hand back as if burned. “I ... Mr. Evans ... I ... the door was open. I came over to check if everything was all right. And I found her like this. I was just checking if she was okay!”
It was a bold-faced, fucking lie. Checking the door, it was open. The door latches when it’s pulled shut by springs at the top of the screen door.__ My mind raced, calculations firing faster than I could process them. The sheer audacity of this kid, this eighteen-year-old who mowed lawns and played video games too loud, standing in my living room with my hypnotized wife.
I took a slow, measured step forward, my eyes locked on his. I saw the fear in them, yes, but underneath it ... a flicker of something else. Knowledge. He wasn’t just scared of being caught in another man’s house; he was scared of being caught doing this.
I didn’t want to tip my hand. Not here. Not without knowing how much he truly knew. My mind, my dirty, perverse mind, was already whirring, a new plan clicking into place. I could feel a familiar, dark thrill uncoiling in my gut, my cock stirring against my leg at the sheer possibility. The anger began to transmute into something far more interesting.