I’m not a monster.
Sure, I don’t feel guilt any more, but that doesn’t mean that I’m a sociopath. I still feel love, affection, happiness, sadness…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, and even without an automatic internal moral compass, I still have a strong sense of right and wrong. Making my parents sign everything over to me, for example…sure, it crossed my mind, and I’ve definitely got 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. That, to me, is an evil act.
No, I want my parents to be happy. And I really want my sister to be happy as well…it’s just that I want her to be happy in a very specific way. “Bouncing up and down on my cock, screaming with joy” – that kind of happiness.
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 controlled minds, somehow. The drawers had the capacity to control people, including me, and if anyone else went near it, it could ruin everything.
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. I couldn’t just make “Jacob’s Cum” more of a priority than water, tempting though it was – 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 I got up early the next morning and, unrestrained by conscience, went 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 it would ebb any questions that my parents had about where I was each morning, 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…the old Jacob would have been worried about screwing up his career, but new-and-improved me 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”…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, as well as “Owning Nice Make-up”. “Comfort”, “Doodling”, “Good Illumination”…all these things that sure, are human desires, but not the ones that you’d immediately pick, y’know?
I opened up “Good Illumination”, and that was when I made an extremely valuable discovery. Inside the folder were a number of sub-folders: “Good Illumination While Cooking”, for example. “Good Illumination While Reading”, and toward the back – “Good Illumination While Painting”. My sister doesn’t paint, so I guess it’s never been a 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.
Wondering how far down the babushka dolls went, I opened the “Good Illumination While Reading” file, and found a handful of folders in that one – “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 sub-folders it contained.
Similarly, each of those sub-folders felt light enough to be empty, until I opened them and found more sub-folders 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 question it, not even in my mind, and so absolutely nothing seemed amiss.
They were just normal, bland, grey folders – it wasn’t like I’d opened a wardrobe and found a man with goat-legs, y’know? At the time, I was more interested in how I could use the folders for my own personal gain than I was interested in the logistics of them, and the utter mundanity of them meant that I didn’t even register anything strange about their arrangement.
I put “Good Illumination” back where I’d found it, and kept hunting through the drawer. It didn’t take long until I hit paydirt, and then a few minutes later, I 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 moved Trust (or specifically “Trust in Jacob””) to the top of her list, then she’d start finding ways to make sure that she could trust me.
I didn’t know exactly what she’d do, 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”, and even “Appropriate Clothing Choices”.
I was running out of time before school, and so I didn’t sift through the Exhibitionism folder, just moved it as a whole. “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 – and so I took the whole folder out, moved it to the front, and put the rest of “Trust” back where I’d roughly pulled it from.
She’d need to trust me, and – hopefully – show a little skin in the process. That would be enough to trigger some changes, but not enough to make her suspicious…and even if she was, her curiosity had been turned right down.
Ashely Maslow was on the bus on the way to work when she noticed.
In some way, she’d been aware of the man sitting opposite her since she first got on the bus. She wasn’t stupid – she knew she was gorgeous. If the genetic lottery she’d won hadn’t been enough, she put more than the average amount of time into taking care of herself, and had no compunctions when it came to showing her body off.
When it was appropriate, of course. Random guys on the bus didn’t normally warrant any particular attention – she was typically happy to just bury her nose in a book and hope she could get home without being harassed.
She was drop-dead gorgeous and completely aware of it, so she’d immediately noticed the man on the bus leering at her.
What she hadn’t noticed, at least for the first ten minutes of her trip, was that she’d reached down and been slowly been inching her skirt higher, giving him more and more leg to look at. She only consciously noticed what she was doing 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 thought, 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 his eyes were focused with laser-like precision on her exposed leg.
It was the hottest thing that Ashley had ever experienced.
A thrill ran through her entire body, and in an instant she noticed her intense arousal at the situation.
I’m probably so wet, she thought, as a flush began to spread across her entire body, So wet that my panties are see-through.
I should show him.
On some level, Ashley knew the thought was wrong, but she was so turned on by the idea of exposing her soaked panties to a stranger that she simply couldn’t resist. It only took her a few seconds to realize that there was no casual, subtle movement that would result in her peeping Tom getting the vantage-point she wanted him to have, and so she threw caution to the wind, and sat on the bus seat cross-legged, giving him the perfect view of her damp, clinging panties.
This is why I’m wearing panties, she thought, enjoying the sight of her voyeur’s erection growing beneath his pants. 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 view possible. The man’s blatant staring had shown the rest of the passengers what was causing his agitated state, and while most had been disgusted and looked away, a few of the other passengers had begun to stare as well.
Cursing herself for wearing such an unflattering top, Ashley yawned loudly, ensuring that any men on the bus who hadn’t been looking at her were now, and stretched, making her elbows meet behind her back, prominently displaying her chest.
Like cats following a laser pointer, every man’s attention was suddenly drawn from her leg to her sizable boobs, and Ashley’s cheeks flushed with excitement. Her nipples were erect, though the bra she’d inexplicably put on that morning hid the fact slightly, and a part of her wanted to rip her top off, throw her bra away, and give the men a real look at her assets.
All in good time, she told herself.
Taking advantage of the fact that the attention of the bus was focused on her chest, Ashley slowly spread her legs, beginning to pant as she did (partially from arousal, largely to keep the men staring at her chest). She reached down, moved her panties aside, and used her hand to spread her lips.
Some of the men were slowly becoming uncomfortable with the glares they were getting from women on the bus, but a warm thrill ran through Ashley as she realized that she could count at least a dozen erections, pushing against the mens’ jeans and pants.
I caused those, she told herself, smiling as her focus moved from one outline to another. Those are all because of me…
One less-than-subtle cough later, and some of the men looked at her face (probably for the first time, she told herself with another erotic thrill) to find her grinning, and gesturing downwards with her eyes.
When they glanced between her legs again, they saw her pussy-lips spread wide.
That’s the inside of my pussy you’re looking at, she told herself. You can see my insides…
The thought caused a wave of lubrication, which she hoped would also be visible. Some of the men had started to look around, wondering if they were on some kind of candid camera show, but as Ashley’s other hand reached down and began rubbing her clit, they stopped caring.
Candid, she thought, just the word enough to make her shudder in pleasure. Camera…
It was two stops after she was meant to get off that Ashley got off, cumming loudly, panting and moaning and loving the feeling of so many strangers’ eyes on her body.
As she walked home, the afterglow of orgasm began to wear off, and she wondered what had just come over her.
That’s not like me, she said thoughtfully, even as she pulled her shirt down to expose as much cleavage as she possibly could. The glances of passing men started to get to her, and she lost track of her thought process. Instead, she wondered where the nearest alley-way was that she could ditch her bra, and start flashing folk in the block-and-a-half she had left to walk.