Chores Build Character

Chapter 1

Introduction

Seated on my bed, my laptop screen was staring back at me. Job listings filled the webpage, each one worse than the last. I cursed Kimmy, the restaurant owner's princess daughter, who took my waitressing gig the second I got the boot. I'm pretty sure I was fired just to open up the spot for her. Being a waitress wasn't my life's dream, but it paid the bills and was a stopgap until I figured out my life.

So there I was, 25 years old and living the "dream" life in San Diego. Okay, the goal of getting my journalism degree and becoming a world-famous travel writer died a not-so-peaceful death when I dropped out of university. Turns out, the school life wasn't for me. Looking back at it now, regret overtook me. If I stuck it out, who knows where I'd be? I wouldn't be unemployed and living with these three, unable to make rent, would I?

Just as I was about to click "next" and subject myself to more useless job postings, a voice tore through my room. "Izzy! Living room, now!" Ugh, Braden, my roommate, and he seemed mad. A knot formed in my stomach; I knew this was coming eventually. Sighing, I dragged myself off my bed. Here we go.

The hallway felt unusually long as I went to the living room. As I stepped inside, my three roommates, Braden, Jason, and Teddy, turned to face me. I slumped onto the couch, knowing what was coming. Braden's eyes locked onto mine, and it felt like the world had frozen momentarily. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence, his voice deliberate and measured. "Look, Izzy, we get it," he began, his tone carrying an edge that sent a shiver down my spine. "Times are tough, but you missed rent last month and are jobless. We can't keep covering for you."

My irritation simmered beneath the surface as Braden spoke. My roommates were going to kick me out. I had no job and no place to stay. It's not like I had any other friends I could really bunk with, and my last boyfriend definitely wasn't going to let me stay with him after our breakup. Would I have to go back to my parent's home in Georgia? My eyes started to swell up, but I choked back my tears.

"We've lived together for what, 8 months now? We'd feel horrible just kicking you out, so... We've thought of a solution." It was a relief to hear Jason now, after the contempt Braden spoke with. Jason almost seemed to be trying to do me a solid, but what kind of solution?

I reluctantly took the paper from Braden's outstretched hand. As I looked it over, it gave nothing but more confusion. It was titled "The Chore List." Really? What was this, some bizarre game to play to stay here? Sections A, B, and C were listed, each with "chores" matched with points next to them. I skimmed through it and then looked at them, baffled.

"What's this about?" I finally managed to ask.

Braden's smirk was all too present, "Our proposition," he stated.

The room seemed to close in around me. I exchanged quick glances with Jason and Teddy; their expressions were uncomfortable and uncertain. The whole situation was surreal. "I don't understand," I said, my voice a touch stronger this time, pushing back against the whirlwind of emotions threatening to engulf me.

"Look closer," Braden's gaze bore into mine, unyielding, like a challenge being thrown down.

I glanced back at the paper, my eyes skimming over the words. Section A was all about those everyday tasks to keep this place ticking. You know, the usual cleaning, cooking, and all that jazz. As I moved to Section B, things started taking a turn for the weird. Dyeing my hair? Watching training videos? Outfit approval from my roommates? Okay, it's getting stranger by the second. But then there was Section C. Oh boy, Section C. My cheeks heated up as I read through the tasks designed for a hooker, not a roommate. My jaw hit the floor, and I stared at them, disbelief clear as day on my face.

"Seriously? What the hell is this?" I practically shouted.

Braden's gaze locked onto mine, steady as a rock. "If you want to stay, here's the deal. You complete 100 points worth of chores each week, or it's hasta la vista, Izzy."

I was torn between anger, embarrassment, and just a touch of "are you fucking kidding me?" This was their idea of a solution? I looked at each of them, defiance returning to my eyes. My choices were a tad limited. I could storm out, give 'em a piece of my mind, but then what? Jobless and homeless in one swift move? Real smart, Izzy. My only option was to do this for a week or two to buy time until I could put my life back together. Until I could find a job and a new home.

I exhaled a deep breath, resigning myself to the situation. "Fine," I grumbled, meeting Braden's gaze defiantly.

Braden's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Perfect. Starting tomorrow, you're on the clock. You have a week to hit 100 points. Good luck, Izzy, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

As I walked out of that room, I couldn't help but feel like I'd just signed up for the weirdest reality show ever. It was a crazy arrangement, but it was my only shot at survival.

Back in my room, I threw myself onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. The living room scene replayed in my head like a broken record. And yeah, the embarrassment of it all wasn't lost on me. But reality check, Izzy: options were limited, and if I needed to do stupid chores to not be homeless, so be it. Tomorrow was a new week, a new chapter, and apparently, a new bizarre living arrangement. I tossed the "Chore List" onto the bed, staring at it like an ancient artifact.

Divided into three sections, each progressively worse. Section A was just keeping the place neat and tidy, nothing I couldn't handle. I'd be more like a maid than a roommate, but whatever. Section B, on the other hand, veered into the twilight zone. Transforming myself according to their whims? Was I auditioning for a reality makeover show? Those were worth significantly more points than cleaning the house. Of course, my roommates would rather focus on their fantasies than the house's cleanliness.

And then Section C. Oh, Part C. My cheeks reddened just thinking about it. All of the chores were sexual. As if I was ever going to get triple-teamed by them, but some of them were okay. Giving a massage isn't so bad, is it?

I did some quick math, calculating points for each chore. Even if I completed all of Section A, I'd still need to dip my toe into the other two sections to reach that golden 100. The whole thing was rigged against me.

So, there it was, the million-dollar question: Was I really gonna go through with this? The room's silence echoed with that question. I flopped back onto the bed, the paper crinkling beneath me. Frustration and the gnawing need to survive battled it out in my mind, leaving me caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty.

My laptop blinked on my desk, still displaying a menu of sketchy job opportunities. I was at a crossroads with my previous boss on my "no reference" list. Tomorrow was Monday, a new day. I sighed again, shoving the paper aside. Ceiling-gazing turned into a full-blown analysis of my new reality. I couldn't help but think, "Welcome to the circus, Izzy."

Chapter 2

Monday [0 pts]

I began the day with a warm, relaxing shower, my thoughts in a frenzy. As I studied my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but analyze how I'd ended up tangled in this mess. The features that defined me stared back: warm brown skin that spoke of my Latina heritage, big expressive eyes, and cute little button nose. If I could muster a smile, I might even consider myself beautiful.

Shifting my stance, I examined my body, the hips that some would call child-bearing, and my small but undeniably perky breasts. Twisting around, I regarded my best feature. My fantastic ass, which many have called a bubble butt. My ex used to teasingly call me J-Lo when he was in the mood. Yes, maybe I was somewhat of a smoke show. But trading my looks for a roof over my head?

After a final glance in the mirror, I left the bathroom, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

In my room, my attention gravitated toward the ominous paper on my desk, the dreaded chore list. The exhaustive list of chores and their corresponding points seemed to mock me, each entry a testament to the absurdity of my current circumstances.

I squared my shoulders, resolute in my decision to confront this head-on. If I had to clean, transform, and... whatever else was on that list, then that's what I'd do. I might resent the circumstances, but I wouldn't let them defeat me. This was merely a means to an end.

After throwing on my clothes, I picked up the paper and stormed out of my room. The house was quiet, my roommates likely off to their own routines: school, work, whatever. This was my opportunity to dive into the madness without an audience, which was a relief.

So, I threw myself into the tasks. Vacuuming, mopping, and dusting; each chore reminded me of my current predicament. As the day wore on, I worked with relentless determination. By the time evening arrived, I collapsed onto the couch, muscles aching and sweat dripping down my brow. I looked at the chore chart, adding up my day's work. A measly 7 points. It was demoralizing, to say the least. I sank back into the couch, frustration and fatigue warring within me.

While wallowing in my misery, Braden arrived home. "Well, look who's lounging around," he sneered.

I shot him a glare, irritation, and sarcasm dripping from my voice. "Oh, you know, just enjoying a moment of rest from my illustrious career as a... whatever the hell this is."

A smirk crept onto his lips as his gaze took in my body. "Lazy day, huh? Remember, you'll be on your way out if you don't step up."

My fists clenched involuntarily. "I've been working my ass off all day, you..." I caught myself before an expletive could escape, but my glare communicated what I didn't vocalize.

An eyebrow arched, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Really now? And how many points have you managed to rack up?"

Despite my relentless efforts, I hesitated, realizing the numbers were not impressive. "7," I muttered, frustration lacing my voice.

He laughed a little too hard. "Guess you've got a long way to go then."

My annoyance flared, "You're enjoying this way too much," I stormed off to my room. Taking a deep breath, I closed the door behind me. What an asshole.

Later that night, I perched on my bed, my attention fixated on the chore list again. One of the entries stood out like a beacon: the "Wild Card." It seemed to exist outside the realms of the three main sections. Yet, it held an impressive point value, 60. My curiosity gnawed at me, and I realized there was only one way to find out what this chore was about: ask my roommates. Well, any roomie except Braden, who I was still annoyed at.

Sighing, I pushed off the bed and navigated the hallway to Teddy's room. I knocked gently, and a muffled response echoed from within, "Uh, hey, Izzy."

Once inside, I surveyed the animated character posters that adorned his walls. "Hey, Teddy. Mind if we chat for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure."

Observing his nervous demeanor, I sensed his reluctance, "I had a question about the 'Wild Card' chore on the list."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know much about it, honestly. I think it's like... a last resort thing."

Grateful for his candid response, I nodded. "Thanks, Teddy." Teddy clearly wasn't behind this whole situation, so my next stop was Jason. Of all of my roommates, Jason would be the one I'd most likely consider as a friend. We were always pleasant with each other and even had some good times watching horror movies together.

A soft knock on his door preceded its opening, revealing Jason with a welcoming, warm smile. "Hey there, what's up?" He gestured for me to enter.

Shutting the door behind me, I began, "Jason, I know I agreed to this arrangement. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it, but one thing baffles me."

Jason casually asked, "Oh yeah, what is that?"

"The 'Wild Card' chore. It doesn't seem to be a part of the other three sections, and it's worth so much. What's the deal?"

Jason's smile remained as he answered. "The 'Wild Card' is a big one that gives you a shot at recovering points if you fall short for the week. We rotate on who gets to decide what it is."

My eyebrows lifted, intrigued. "So, who gets to decide this week?"

Jason nodded, knowing I wouldn't like this, "Braden..."

Of course, it had to be Braden. 60 points was no joke, but I couldn't grant him this amount of control over me. Who knew what kind of ridiculous thing he'd come up with? It's worth more points than getting gang banged by all my roommates, for fuck's sake. It was definitely going to be a hard pass for me.

"Got it. Thanks for clarifying," I said, smiling briefly before leaving his room. With conversations with Teddy and Jason under my belt, the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. I understand whose idea this was initially, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing his "Wild Card." I would have to find another way to get the points.

Chapter 3

Tuesday [7 pts]

As the day ended, I was left drained from tackling the cleaning, my body aching with each step. The chore list taunted me with a mere 15 points, a frustratingly small number that barely made a dent in the 100 points I needed. Even if I factored in the daily tasks for the rest of the week, I would only reach 25 points. It seemed like they set me up for an almost impossible task from the very beginning.

Sinking onto the couch, I couldn't help but glare at the list. Frustration gnawed at me, and my thoughts raced for a new strategy. Then it caught my eye: the entry for dyeing my hair. It is a seemingly harmless task, yet it holds an impressive 20 points.

I hesitated, contemplating my options. The usual chores weren't cutting it; that much was abundantly clear. With a sigh of reluctant resignation, I made up my mind, preparing myself for a change I hadn't considered before. I like my natural dark hair.

Waiting for the right opportunity, I waited for Jason's return home. "Hey, Jason," I began, striving for casual yet curious.

"Hey, Izzy. What's on your mind?"

Attempting nonchalance, I continued, "So, that hair-dyeing thing on the list?"

Jason's expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. "Oh, that. It's pretty straightforward. We pick the hair color. We figured that's worth mad points."

Of course, they'd get to decide the color. "Alright, then. I don't have much money to pay for everything I'd need..."

A small smile played at the corners of Jason's lips. "If you're serious about it, don't worry. Go get ready, and I'll take you to the salon."

Wait, they're taking me to the salon themselves? My surprise must have been evident as Jason chuckled softly. "We're invested in this, Izzy. If you're stepping up, we've got your back."

So, they can't afford to pay my rent, but now they can invest in a salon visit? Jason's office job must be paying well, and I knew Braden was on a full football scholarship. I wasn't sure of Teddy's financial situation, but it does seem clear that my part of the rent is not making or breaking them. Sadly, all of this was irrelevant to my situation. I had no choice and had to play their game to avoid disaster. "Thanks, I guess," is all I could say back.

Walking into the salon felt like a brief escape from the madness. It's been so long since I've been able to do something this nice for myself. Settling into the plush chair, I relished the touch of expert hands as they worked through my hair. The scent of shampoo and the soothing sensation of fingers on my scalp offered a momentary reprieve. The soft music in the background lulled my racing thoughts, and I felt like a Queen.

Despite my initial hesitation, the experience turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment as the shampoo rinsed away my worries.

Lost in my thoughts, I hardly realized that the process had ended. "Okay, sweetie, you can open your eyes now," the stylist said.

I blinked as the chair turned to face the mirror. Seeing my reflection, I couldn't help but gasp. My once-dark hair was now a striking platinum blond. It was a choice I would have never made myself and seemed unnatural.

The stylist's tone was almost singsong as she spoke, "So, what do you think? It suits you, doesn't it?"

Embarrassment and uncertainty flushed my cheeks. I hadn't anticipated such a dramatic change, and not having a say in the color left me feeling subservient, A feeling I hated. I cleared my throat, managing a hesitant response. "It's... definitely different."

Meeting my eyes in the mirror, I realized this change wasn't just about the color. The platinum blond locks contrasted my dark eyebrows and Latina features, creating a bold, almost slutty look.

Turning in the chair, I faced Jason, who awaited my reaction with a smile. "Izzy, you look amazing!" Meeting his gaze, I had a sudden realization. These chores weren't solely about earning my keep. They were molding me into someone who catered to their desires.

A wave of understanding washed over me, leaving me unsettled and defiant. The stakes were higher than I had thought. I must be more strategic than ever to avoid becoming something I regret.

Finally arriving home, I stepped out of the car, relieved to return to familiar surroundings. Walking into the living room, I noticed Teddy sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as they landed on my new hair. "Izzy, your hair... It's, um, different."

His gaze lingered, his face reddening before he abruptly stood up and practically bolted to his room. Clearly, my new look had struck a chord with him.

Deciding to let it go, I continued to my room, seeking the comfort of solitude. But as luck would have it, fate had other plans. The bathroom door swung open, revealing Braden. His eyes traveled up and down my figure, his gaze intense and predatory.

"Well, well, look who's finally getting serious about these chores."

Suppressing a surge of anger and unease, I clenched my fists. "Braden, I..."

He cut me off with a chuckle, his arrogance evident. "Gotta hand it to you, Izzy. You look fucking hot. Didn't think you had it in you."

His words felt like an invasion, a series of unwanted advances. Something told me holding off the lust of my roommates would not be easy.

Unable to stand it any longer, I retreated to my room, slamming the door behind me in frustration. Sinking onto my bed, I stared at the ceiling, torn between conflicting emotions. How far was I willing to go to avoid homelessness? I won't let them break me down. I might be in a tough spot, but no matter what chores I pick, I won't let them defeat me.

Determined, I grabbed my laptop, attempting to shift my focus to finding a job to release me from this situation. However, the challenge of my living situation persisted, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. My compliance with these tasks might be getting me points, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were weaving a web around me, one I might not easily escape.

Chapter 4

Wednesday [35 pts]

A pitifully short list of cleaning tasks remained for today. Just dinner and dishes left. Oh, joy, a grand total of 2 points. With the threat of homelessness looming, I scanned the list for the least humiliating options. Anything that didn't involve me fucking my roommates would be a win.

There it was, sitting in section B! It was labeled as "Outfit Approval." Well, platinum blonde hair was a giant leap. Still, it was manageable compared to some of the other tasks. The "slutty" hair, I couldn't deny, was kind of hot. Plus, it might be worth swallowing my pride if it raked in some much-needed points. Who doesn't want to play dress up for their housemates? As I mulled over my choices, a chuckle escaped my lips at the sheer absurdity of it all.