The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hierarchy of Needs

by Pan

Chapter 3:

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.


* * *

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.

All in good time, she told herself.

Now that all the eyes pointed in her direction were focused on her chest, Ashley slowly began spreading her legs, panting as she did. Half from excitement, half to keep the gazes on her bust as she set up for her next move.

Reaching down, the young woman moved the gusset of her panties aside and used two fingers to spread her stubbled pussy-lips.

A warm feeling spread 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 her to shudder with pleasure. Some of the men had started to look around as though 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…

Two stops after she was meant to get off, Ashley got off. She came loudly on the back seat of the bus, panting and moaning, focused entirely on how it felt to have 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 murmured thoughtfully, even as she pulled her shirt down to expose as much cleavage as she could to a passing man. The sight of his eyes glowing with admiration distracted her, and she forgot what she’d been saying to herself, instead beginning to wonder if there was somewhere she could ditch her bra, and start flashing people in for the remaining few minutes of her walk.