I was hiding. No, scratch that, I was sulking. Actually I guess it was a little of both. I’d tried making a run into town on my own and Amy, my older sister, had caught me about two miles down the road. My mom had freaked out. I’d gotten angry. There’d been an argument.

Then a stretch of nothing.

And then my mom had tried to make it up by having me tend to the little Commune’s farm animals with her. I knew she wanted to talk with me and try to explain all her inner feelings and why she did stuff to me and all that other Hippy spiritual crap.

That’s pretty much when I lost it.

There’s a crawl space under our tool shack. Yeah, it’s not the kind of place you’d expect one. It’s built against some kind of large rock with what I assumed were the results of one of my Aunt’s “shindigs” painted along the sides. Little did I know that the designs and images were there long before my Aunt ever got here, in the ancient sort of way.

Of course that wasn’t running through my mind as I’d bolted towards it. The farm animals were on the other side of the commune and so was my mom.

So there I was. The wooden shack above me, my ass sitting on the scraggly dirt with hardly any light to see, the voices of my family calling out, looking for me.

I didn’t care.

Actually I did care. I hated the place. I hated the fact that my situation was such that my only place of escape was a crappy hole in the ground.

Oh the sacrifices.

I was stressed. In the long term I was bored. At the moment I needed a release.

So I rubbed the protection stone around my neck for comfort. I also reached for the more tangible relief of my cigarettes.

Yeah…that probably wasn’t a good choice. On the other hand…it may have been, depending on how you took what happened next as a whole.

In any case it was a small space. There wasn’t any ventilation for the smoke. I could hear my sister’s voice calling out nearby. The smoke wasn’t going anywhere and I wasn’t going out the usual way.

So coughing and rubbing my eyes I crawled backwards along the ground and towards the rock. I knew there was a point where the shack and rock met. There was a sliver of space between them where I had a shot at some fresh air.

That was my goal.

I went a little too far.

I didn’t know I could go a little too far.

The rock face gave behind me and I fell back and down a good three feet.

That was the first shock. The second was that the rock was hollow. The third was that I could see. I realized two shafts of sunlight came in from odd angles overhead, carefully concealed so that you couldn’t see them from the ground.

After that there was just the vase sitting there, center stage on the derelict stone floor. And that was it. The place was empty otherwise.

Believe me, I checked.

I was hurt, but not bad, not enough to draw my curiosity away from the item sitting in the center of the strange room.

Outside my sister was entering the shed, looking for the crawl space. I’d hidden there before.

But that didn’t register, my attention was absorbed by the vase, scrutinizing it.

It had six openings on the top, each one carefully capped with what looked to be a stopper made of bone. At each of the six sections a strange design was painted.

As I grasped it in my hands I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It felt like pottery, and yet at the same time it didn’t. Something told me it was stronger.

That’s when I noticed the last stopper near the bottom, making seven points. Over the top of it was painted what looked to be a large “0” (that’s zero.)

I shook it, it sounded empty. I decided to open one of the stoppers and see if I was mistaken.

My sister was in the crawl space, working her way towards me.

I felt something come out. The runes on my Grandfather’s talisman flared to life. Little did I know what it was stopping. I dropped the vase.

My sister saw me.

“Robert!”

“Sis?”

She gasped…silence.

It took me a couple seconds to register that nothing was actually happening…at least to me.

My sister had crawled into the room. She was examining the walls, and the light overhead. She was ignoring me when she was supposed to be scolding me, when I was supposed to be arguing with her right back.

Instead she walked around me, looking about, almost like she couldn’t recognize that I was there.

I didn’t know how true that observation was.

She knelt down to examine the vase on the floor. It was the first time I realized it hadn’t shattered. In fact nothing else had moved out of place. Everything was as it was with it, except for the stopper in my hand.

She picked it up and turned it in her hand.

“Sis,” I called out “Put that back down.”

She ignored me.

I reached a hand forward and grabbed her shirt.

She didn’t respond.

“Sis, what are you doing?” I inquired.

Nothing. She continued to scrutinize the vase.

I tried something more extreme. I slapped her across the face.

She just stood there, a red mark in the shape of my hand glued along the side of her cheek, her attention still taken by the container.

She acted like she didn’t even register what I had done to her.

And slowly the gears in my head began to click. My eyes moved to my hand, the stopper. They drifted back the vase and the open hole. My thoughts fell on my shining talisman and the sensation of something trying to get inside me. Slowly a thought began to form in my head.

And then it disappeared.

Extenuating circumstances.

Amy was leaving the room, with the vase.

I grabbed her just as she was crouching into the hole and pulled her back in.

She fell back onto the ground.

The vase dropped and landed, intact, by the entrance.

Again, she didn’t react to the action like I would have expected her to. She acted like nothing had happened. She acted like nothing I could do to her mattered. She was indifferent…to everything.

She tried to get up.

I walked over to her and held her down.

She didn’t resist. She just sat there, on the ground, staring into space, a look of absolute complacency resting on her face.

What the hell was going on?

I didn’t know, but I assumed it had something to do with that open hole on the top of the container.

She remained there, immobile as I walked towards it and picked it up once again in my hands.

I looked down the hole. It was empty. I put the stopper back in, wondering if it would make a difference. It didn’t.

She sat there, inactive, uncaring.

My head shifted back and forth between them.

I put the vase down and crawled towards her, my eyes looking her over up and down. My head running though the information about her.

Amy was nineteen, taking a year off before going to college. She was a little short, but had an athletic build. Her long jet-black hair was tied back in a ponytail, her dark skin shining in the afternoon light. My eyes stopped over her tie-dye V-neck as the nipples of her breasts peeked through from underneath the cloth. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

I paused, I’d never really allowed myself the thought, but my sister was really hot.

Oh yeah, I should have mentioned, my dad was American Indian.

Her face was soft, staring serenely forward at absolutely nothing. She lay impassive, unresponsive, doing whatever she pleased and yet at the same time giving in to whatever force was acted upon her.

Which happened to be me at the moment.

I pushed her over to the left. She didn’t do anything. I pushed her over to the right. She just lay there.

I put my face up to hers and yelled.

Nothing.

She was completely indifferent to everything I did to her.

How far could I go with this?

I found my dick slowly tenting in my pants at the thought of the whole situation. I could do anything to her. And she wouldn’t stop me.

I eyed her shirt, thinking on those soft mounds underneath them, watching as they rose up and down with each intake of her breath.

My quivering hand crept towards her chest, one of her breasts cupped in my right hand. I squeezed. It was soft, and squishy, and it was good.

I brought my other hand up and did the same. I worked her breasts, massaging them in my hands from underneath her shirt, glancing up at her face to be sure nothing had changed.

But it had. Her eyes had closed and her mouth had slowly shifted to pleasured smile. She moaned softly and her apple sized breasts hardened under my hands.

With that as encouragement I lifted her shirt up, exposing her breasts to the warm summer air. I admired but a moment her dark aureoles and her firm mounds before diving my head into them.

My tongue went wild, licking her jiggling flesh, my mouth sucking on her excess.

For the first time there, it was heaven.

She didn’t say a word. All I could hear were the soft moans issuing from her mouth as I sucked and kneaded her firm melons. I heard her begin to pant. I felt her hips beginning to buck against my chest.

My member ached for her.

And that was all I needed.

I quickly undid her pants and pulled them down to her ankles, exposing her hairy slit as it bucked the open air.

I hurriedly pulled my pants down and plunged my aching cock into her.

It was like a collision of two forces.

My hands groped for her breasts, squeezing her soft melons as her moans filled the small space.

My head moved to hers, licking the side of her neck and sucking her lips, taking her breath into mine.

It was great. It was too much. It was wonderful.

She came. I released.

I pulled out, a couple after shots of my own semen ejaculated onto her, a few drops of white on dark skin, on a kaliedoscope of tie-dye. I let them stay. Somehow it showed me that I owned her.

I sat there, panting, staring at my naked sister in front of me. Her eyes were closed. Her body heaving with each deep intake of breath. Her dark, firm breasts softened, her bush soaked with the mixture of our juices. She lay spread on the ground, pants pulled down, sandals still on, shirt pulled up to her shoulders.

And she didn’t care. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t say a word. She just lay there exposed like what I had done was nothing, like being naked in front of your brother was nothing. And she would let me do it again; if I wanted.

As I regained my energy I smiled. I pulled my pants back up and glanced over at the vase. It sat there, as ever it did when I first saw it, as if saying to me that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if nothing that I could do would change it.

I wondered what else might happen. I wondered what else another opened hole would do. And I wanted to find out. But first I had to take care of my sister…just in case.

I walked over to Amy and lifted her up. She worked with me, standing up on her own power once she was propped up in the right position.

Her midriff lay open. Her eyes stared forward, complacent, as per the usual.

I eyed her up and down one last time. My hand worked her exposed breast. My other working down to her crotch, exploring her insides.

Again she closed her eyes. Again that pleasured smile crossed her face. In the deeper recesses of her throat I heard a soft moan.

I pulled back, watching as her face went back to complacent, watching as the moans stopped and she went back to standing on wavering legs, a gorgeous naked woman before me.

I smiled. I could turn her on and off whenever I pleased.

But enough was enough. I wanted to know what else I could do with that little artifact standing on the ground behind me.

I pulled Amy’s pants back up, making sure to work the belt tight around her wide hips. I pulled her V-neck back down over her breasts, taking a step back briefly to admire the work.

Aside from the small juice stains on her shirt you could barely tell that anything had happened to her.

I turned my attention back to the vase. I walked over to it and took it in my hands, examining it, thinking.

One hole…one hole opened and it made the victim indifferent to everything. It stripped the victim of any resistance to physical actions. Six holes left…I wondered what the others would do.

I glanced one more time over at Amy, examining the room once again as if I wasn’t there, trying to imagine what another one might do to her. A wicked smile crossed my face. It was time to find out.

I made note of the one I had opened, the image below it that represented it, and chose the next one over. With a careful hand I pulled the stopper, my body braced, my eyes on Amy, wondering what would happen next with her.

Boy was I wrong.

And boy was my Mom in for one hell of a surprise.