Hierarchy of Needs

A few minutes later, I did exactly that, and when I woke up, I felt even more full of energy than I had that morning.

###

Now that I'd slept, the questions were back, but (since they were no longer impeding my rest) for once I actually welcomed them. My head was buzzing with possibilities: what to do? What could I do? And, perhaps most importantly of all, what should I do?

I decided that safety had to be my number one concern. The fear that had gripped me when I realized how casually I'd moved a desire to be tidy and organized in front of a desire to live was still lurking, and I vowed that I wasn't going to put anything above the basics. Air, food, water...they were my priorities. They had to be. But what else? I could make myself more motivated...I could make myself more motivated to do whatever I wanted, in fact. Instead of following my heart's desire, I could decide my heart's desire, and then follow that.

And this, dear reader, is where I made my big mistake.

See, humans aren't wired to make those kinds of decisions. If you want to be a carpenter, you want to be a carpenter: you don't decide to want to be a carpenter and then spent the next few years learning to love it. I have no regrets...hell, perhaps I'm past regrets. But if I could do it all again, I think I'd do it differently.

I spent most of the day pretty much just grooming myself and napping. Trust me, as someone who spent so many years deprived of sleep: it's a beautiful, beautiful thing, and I was determined to experience it to the full. And it turns out: I tidy up okay! Combing my hair, straightening my clothes; all these things that used to be chores were suddenly...not.

When I sneaked into the room again that night, I was resolved to sort through the drawer, find something that would get me ahead in life and move it forward. I'm sure that from the outside, you can think of a million better ways of doing this, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I moved 'Organization' back up; not nearly as much far up as I'd moved it last time, just enough so that my life would be neat and I'd never have to waste time looking for things. And then, deep in the drawer, sandwiched between, of all things, 'Sandwiches' and 'Nose-picking' (the latter of which I moved back as far as I could reach), I found it:

'Sex With Ashley.'

Now when I'd moved 'Organization' up, organizing had been something that I had started to just do without thinking. In that moment, I just assumed that this would work the same way. That if I moved it up, it would just...happen. I wouldn't even have to think about it.

You've got to understand, I was an eighteen year-old virgin. On top of that, I'd just found a magical cabinet that controlled my mind...and my sister constantly strutted around in various states of undress, driving me wild.

And so, yeah. I didn't really think it through. As if it belonged to someone else, I watched my hand pull the file out and move it toward the front. Not to a dangerous level, of course, but...looking back, still quite high.

I rearranged a few other files - 'Intelligence' got a boost, though as I'd soon work out, that just meant a desire for intelligence, not intelligence itself. I considered delegating 'Video Games' to the rear ranks with 'Nose-picking', but decided that I needed a creative outlet, and didn't want the money that I'd already put into various consoles to be a complete waste. 'Pet Ownership' got bumped to right to the back...our parents won't let us have one, and I was sick of yearning for the impossible.

As soon as I moved each file, I felt the changes. The thought of owning a dog or a cat immediately held no appeal, and even though my 'Sleep' desire now outranked 'Curiosity', I was still tempted to go online and browse Wikipedia. I could feel a dried booger at the side of my nose, but I was content to just leave it there...after all, it wasn't doing any harm.

And when I thought of my sister, I suddenly had the biggest boner I'd ever had...and couldn't stop myself from glancing over to her cabinet, and wondering what was inside.

###

I didn't touch it. Not that night, anyway...instead, I went to bed, and despite wanting to sleep, tossed and turned for a few hours before I actually drifted off.

The same issue kept coming back to my mind. It was a matter of morality, not curiosity, and so the new order of my files had no effect.

I'd just look, I told myself. *I'd just see if 'Sex With Jacob' even ranked...I wouldn't touch anything, and if I did, I'd...no, I had to cut that thought off before it began.

On the other side of the battle within my brain, I could clearly hear 'Sex With Ashley' talking. Just a quick fiddle, it told me. You're not hurting anyone. Look at yourself! You're happier now that you've got your priorities in order. While you're in there, you can even increase her motivation, her fitness, her...flexibility.

That last thought took over briefly, and I jerked off twice before going to sleep, images of Ashley as my own personal sex slave flashing through my mind...

I dreamt about it, that night. Going there for real was so dreamlike, when I awoke I could barely remember what had actually happened and what was the product of my subconscious imagination. I'd definitely gone into my drawer, I knew that...but had I also opened Ashley's? The file reading 'Servitude to Jacob', before even 'Air' or 'Water' or 'Food', that was definitely a part of the dream, but what about the rest?

The turmoil didn't end, and I spent the entire day distracted. No matter what I was doing, my mind was drifting, picturing Ashley in a collar, on a leash, mine to command...

Had I realized at that point my mistake, that I'd moved 'Sex with Ashley' too high, this story would have a completely different end. I would have gone home, moved it back to a reasonable level, and perhaps locked the door to the mysterious room, never entering it again...

...but I didn't. I spent the whole day struggling with my conscience, and when I got home, I'd had enough.

The solution to my insomnia had been easy: move 'Curiosity' behind 'Sleep', and never lay awake at night again. And so when a similarly simple solution struck me, it was no wonder that I didn't think twice before carrying it out...

The other factor, of course, was Ashley. If I hadn't arrived home that day to find her sunbathing in the front back yard, lathering herself up with coconut oil, moving her hands up and down her long, white legs, across her beautifully taut stomach, rubbing it into her long neck...perhaps I would have thought twice.

A part of me even wants to blame the bikini. I don't even know where you get an orange bikini, but Ashley had one. She'd once told me that she'd never wear it out, but for some reason it was fine to wear at home...presumably because family shouldn't be looking at each other like that. It was designed to cut down on tan-lines, and the easiest way to do that is to expose as much flesh as possible.

So yeah, when I'd arrived home to acres and acres of utterly fuckable flesh, I think it screwed with my brain a bit. I didn't even go and masturbate to cool off - I stormed straight through the little door, opened my drawer, picked up 'Morality', and put it as far away from the front as I could.

As soon as the drawer was closed, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The war was over, the voices in my head, ceaselessly bickering...had stopped. A smile spread across my face, and I realized that now, I was unstoppable...

I'd done what Pinocchio should have done the second the talking cricket showed up. I'd killed my conscience, and now nothing was off the table.

***

I'm not a monster.

It isn't like I even felt any different, really. I just...didn't prioritize 'acting morally' any more. It's not like I became a psychopath; I still feel love, affection, happiness, sadness...in fact, since I stopped letting my conscience guide my actions, I've had to be a lot more thoughtful about what I do.

For example I'd never do anything truly evil.

I mean, if I thought anyone would find out.

Nah, it's more complicated that than. Like...if someone came up to you and said "hey, the morally correct thing to do right now would be to cut off your legs", it's not like you'd immediately start leaping for a hacksaw. Sure, that might be 'moral', but I'll bet 'avoiding pain' or 'living the rest of your life with legs' are even more important to you.

You might not immediately go "sorry dude, I love legs more than I like morality" - you'd find some way to justify it, some way to explain your choices...but ultimately, I bet that's what would happen.

Well, similarly, there are loads of reasons I don't do 'evil' things besides just having a sense of morality. Making my parents sign everything over to me, for example. Sure, it crossed my mind, and the cabinets definitely gave me the ability to do it (just put 'Jacob's Happiness' above everything else, and tell them that it would make me happy. They wouldn't even think twice)... but I never would.

No, I want my parents to be happy. And I want my sister to be happy as well, truly. I just want her to be happy in a very specific way. 'Bouncing up and down on my cock, screaming with joy' - that kind of happiness.

I wasn't suddenly about to go out and start murdering people. I just wasn't avoiding it purely because it's "wrong". (A desire to avoid jail + a lack of reasons to murder anyone were much bigger factors, even before I messed with my file.)

The next day, I had two immediate goals:

First of all, the room.

For some reason - probably just dumb luck - no one but me had ever found that room. And I couldn't risk that happening...the room somehow had the ability to affect how people thought. The drawers had the capacity to control people, including me, and if anyone else went near it, it could ruin everything.

Secondly, Ashley.

It had taken almost a full day for me to notice that I was compulsively organizing everything I touched, but I'd still noticed. If Ashley abruptly found herself on her knees in front of her little brother, she just might suspect that something was up. So tempting though it was, I couldn't just make 'Jacob's Cum' more of a priority than water; whatever I did, it had to be slow, subtle. And I had to make sure that Mom and Dad wouldn't notice anything was up either.

So when my parents were at work and my sister out shopping, I took the opportuntiy to - unrestrained by conscience - go into the little room and started planning.

The first thing I did was find 'Curiosity' in each of the three filing cabinets, and move it toward the back, hoping that would curb any questions that my parents had, and stop them from entering the small room that I'd discovered. Dad works in research, which I suppose requires a certain level of innate curiosity...but 'Dad's Career' was way below 'Sex With Ashley' in my priorities, so I figured that was a problem that he would have to deal with himself.

Then I spent an hour or so just reading the name of Ashley's files. Each drawer, at a glance, looked like it should hold no more than a few hundred files, but I'd gone through at least a thousand before I realized anything was amiss.

The drawers contained every need imaginable, from the obvious 'Socialization', 'Body Maintenance', 'Cleanliness' (distinctly different from Organization, I'll point out), 'Sex' (again, separate from 'Orgasm'). Once you got past the obvious major needs, however, it started to get a little weird. 'Cooking' was in there. Not eating or sustenance, but cooking itself. I guess my sister has an innate desire to cook; something that I've never personally experienced, but it explained why once or twice a week, she'd volunteer to take care of dinner.

'Cleaning' was in there (way behind 'Cleanliness') as was 'Owning Nice Make-up'. 'Comfort', 'Doodling', 'Good Illumination'. All human desires, sure, but not the ones that you'd immediately come up with, y'know?

I opened up 'Good Illumination', and that was when I made a huge discovery. Inside the folder were a number of subfolders: 'Good Illumination While Cooking', for example. 'Good Illumination While Reading', and even (much further back) 'Good Illumination While Painting'. Ashley doesn't paint, so it makes sense that the lighting would be a low priority for her.

I briefly wondered what would happen if I took the 'Good Illumination While Painting' folder out and put it right at the front of her drawer - would it affect her desire to paint, or would it only come into play if she was painting? - but my curiosity was no longer the pressing desire that it had been just two nights ago, so I left it where it was.

Opening the 'Good Illumination While Reading' file, and learned that the babushka dolls went deeper still; there were a handful of folders inside it. 'Good Illumination While Reading In Bedroom', 'Good Illumination While Reading In Kitchen'...

It's hard to explain exactly how mundane these folders seemed. It was like a dream, awake though I definitely was. I mean, looking back, the 'Good Illumination' folder seemed to be as thin as the others, and it was only when I opened it that I realized how many subfolders it contained.

Similarly, each of those subfolders felt light enough to be empty, until I opened them and found more subfolders within them...if each folder went as deep as that one did, then there must have been several million files in that one drawer, but at the time it just all sort of...made sense.

I didn't even think to question it, and so absolutely nothing seemed amiss at the time. They were just normal, bland, grey folder; it wasn't like I'd opened a wardrobe and found a man with goat-legs, y'know? I was more focused in how I could use the folders for my own personal gain than interested in the logistics of them, so didn't even register anything strange about their arrangement. It just all seemed really...normal, I guess.

Putting 'Good Illumination' back where I'd found it, I kept hunting through the drawer. It didn't take long until I hit paydirt, and then a few minutes later, hit it again.

'Trust' was the first discovery that put an ambitious glint in my eyes.

You see, as I'd worked out, 'Trust' didn't mean that she would just immediately start trusting more. No...'Trust' meant that she would prioritize trust, that she wouldn't be comfortable until she felt like she could trust people in her life. If I made Trust (or specifically 'Trust in Jacob') a high priority for my sister, then she'd start finding ways to make sure that she could trust me.

I didn't know exactly what that would look like, but if I knew it was coming, I was sure that I'd be able to take advantage of it somehow.

Putting 'Trust' aside, I kept flipping through, suddenly realizing what my first move had to be. It didn't take me long to find the folder - that, I said to myself, certainly explained my sister's choice of dress.

'Exhibitionism'. What a beautiful word. As soon as I saw it, I moved it to the front - behind the essentials, of course, but ahead of 'Modesty', 'Adherence To Social Bounds', even 'Avoiding Embarrassment'.

Knowing that Ashley could get home any minute, I didn't bother sifting through the Exhibitionism folder for specifics, and moved the entire thing to the front.

Trust, however, I took the time to open. 'Trust In Family' was right at the front, and 'Trust In Jacob' was one of the three biggest. Inside 'Trust in Jacob' there were simply pieces of paper covered in tiny text.

I suppose the rabbit-hole had to end somewhere.

I took the whole folder out, moved it to the front of my sister's drawer, and put the rest of 'Trust' approximately back where I'd found it.

Ashley would need to trust me. And hopefully she'd show a little skin in the process. I figured that would be enough to trigger some changes without being enough to make my sister suspicious...especially since her curiosity had been turned right down.

Perfect.

###

Ashely Maslow was on the bus on the way to work when she noticed.

On some level, she'd been aware of the man sitting opposite her since she first got on the bus. The nineteen-year old wasn't stupid; she knew she was gorgeous. If winning the genetic lottery hadn't been enough, she put plenty of time into taking care of herself, and had no serious reservations when it came to showing her body off.

In appropriate contexts, of course. In which 'sitting on the bus' wasn't typically included. Ashley would normally spend the ride just burying her nose in a book and hoping she could get home without being harassed.

And so even if she hadn't consciously registered it, the young woman had been immediately aware that the man sitting beside her was checking her out.

What she hadn't noticed was that at some point she'd reached down and unconsciously began inching her skirt higher, slowly exposing more and more of her leg for him to look at.

Her own actions only reached her awareness when her finger came into contact with her panties and a strange thought popped into her head.

What on earth am I wearing panties for?

There was something wrong with that question, she knew, but before she could really think about what it was, she glanced up and noticed the man's face. His face had gone slightly red, he was panting so loudly that other people on the bus had started to notice.

And if there was no doubt what had caused his reaction; the eyes of Ashley's seat-neighbor eyes were focused squarely on her exposed leg.

It was the hottest thing the young woman had ever experienced.

A thrill ran through her entire body. I'm so wet, she thought, as her skin began to go almost as read as her peeping Tom's. Probably so wet that my panties are see-through.

I should show him.

On some level, Ashley knew the thought was wrong. Perhaps not morally - after all, who was she harming? He clearly wanted it as much as she did - but she was so turned on by the idea of exposing her soaked panties to a stranger, she couldn't resist.

It only took her a few seconds to realize that there was no casual, subtle movement that would result in her admirer getting the vantage-point she wanted him to have, and so she threw caution to the wind and moved her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bus seat, giving him the perfect view of her soaked, clinging panties.

This is why I'm wearing underwear, she realized, catching her breath as she realized she could see the outline of her voyeur's erection. The erection she had caused. This wouldn't be as hot if it was just my pussy...

Or would it?

She dismissed the question as soon as it arrived, instead focusing her attention on giving her audience the best possible view. The man sitting beside her was staring so blatantly, it hadn't been hard for the other passengers to learn what was causing his agitated state. Many had been disgusted and looked away, but several passengers had joined him in his lustful gaze of the young lady.

They just see me as a piece of meat, she realized. She knew that she should be horrified by the thought, but for reasons she couldn't explain, she found herself craving more of the strangers' objectification. Why did I wear such an unflattering top today??

Ashley yawned loudly, garnering the attention of the few remaining men who weren't already checking her out. She stretched, meeting her elbows behind her back, putting her prominent chest even more on display.

Like a litter of cats following a laser pointer, the attention of every leering man on the bus moved from her legs (and what was between them) to her sizable boobs. Ashley's cheeks burned with excitement. Her nipples were erect, though hidden by the bra she was inexpicably wearing, and she was tempted to rip her top off, throw her bra away, and give the enthusiastic audience a real look at what she had to offer.