Chores Build Character - Week 02

Note: Coercion is wrong in reality, and if you uncomfortable reading about it, please skip this story.

Chapter 1

Introduction

Dear Izzy,

You did a tremendous job on week one. We were all thrilled with your performances. The place has never been cleaner, and we never had better dinners.

We have been pleasantly surprised with how you took to the other sections of the chore list. Your hair is sexy, your voice is fantastic, and we were very impressed with your outfits. We won't even mention how much we appreciated the other chores you did.

However, you are staying here for free. We are feeding you, and as you noticed, we are spending a good amount on you to help you complete these chores. The rules have been modified for week 2, as we think we took it a little too easy on you.

We can't wait to see how you handle it.

Yours truly,

Your Roommates

I stared at the note in disbelief. Seriously? They thought that was easy. After the initial shock wore off, I couldn't help but get annoyed. I knew I'd worked my ass off in week one, juggling their ridiculous chores and even agreeing to some seriously fucked up stuff. At least the roommates seemed pleased with my efforts, and I still have a home.

As I scanned through the chore list for week two, it was clear they weren't about to cut me any slack. Section A, the cleaning crap, mainly was the same, but they'd slashed the total points down. Great! Fewer points for the same amount of work. I rolled my eyes; they wanted to shift me into the other sections even more.

Section B had gotten a makeover itself. They'd removed the hair dyeing, which made sense, considering I'd already turned myself blonde. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, running my fingers through my now slutty blonde hair. I had to admit, it was kind of sexy, in a sort of trashy way. It was almost like it wasn't me in that mirror; it was like my sluttier twin sister.

Looking closer, I had to wear their approved outfits daily to earn points. Gone were the partial points for individual days. Plus, they added some seriously absurd things like lip fillers to the list because that's exactly what I've always wanted: dick-sucking lips.

Then came the kicker. The training videos I'd reluctantly watched were now only worth 1 lousy point if I watched them, but I'd lose 2 points if I skipped a day. Seriously, negative points now?

Finally, I reached Section C. Massages were out, and massages with happy endings were in. As I read the words, I felt my embarrassment rise. Massages were easy points, and sure, I did the happy ending last time, but I was just caught up in the moment, you know?

What became clear from these changes was that my roommates were paying attention and trying to edge me toward the chores they wanted me to do to mold me into their ideal model roommate.

With a deep breath, I stood up and grabbed the chore list. It was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work. They wanted to see how I'd handle it. Fine. I'd show them that I could more than take it. I wouldn't just become their plaything. I would stay the same, Izzy, no matter what chores I had to do.

Lying in bed, I couldn't help but weigh my options. Jason's offer of a potential job at his office felt like a glimmer of hope, a way out of this bizarre circus. But then there was the memory of my old boss, David Montgomery, at the restaurant, who'd made it clear I'd never waitress in this town again.

As anxiety gnawed at me, I wondered how I'd survive this week with all the new challenges and my uncertain future. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I drifted to sleep, dreading whatever the hell the next week would bring.

Chapter 2

Monday [0 pts]

This morning, to my surprise, I found myself awake and ready to face the day earlier than usual. Maybe there was some subconscious drive there, trying to get a start on this new week. With a determined sigh, I hopped out of bed, headed straight to the shower, and got myself clean and ready for the day. Doing makeup had joined my regiment. Even though it wasn't technically a chore, it felt right if I was dressed on display the way I am.

As I styled my hair, I stared at the chore list, mentally bracing myself. The rule changes kept echoing in my mind. If I wanted the 14 points for having my outfits approved, I had to start that first thing. I needed to know who was in charge of approving my clothes this week.

Tightly clutching the towel around me, I swung open my bedroom door and peered into the hallway. And there, standing with that signature cocky grin, was Braden. Figures, he'd be the one. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling more self-conscious in my towel-clad state than when I was completely naked.

"Morning," I managed to greet, my voice coming out in that high-pitched way that I still couldn't get used to.

"Morning, Izzy," he replied, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Ready for a new week?"

I glared at him, my lips twisting into a pout that probably only added to my image. "Like, totally ready, duh! So, who's, like, gonna be the fashion police this week?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant even as the words came out in that ridiculous voice.

"That would be me, babe. I've got your wardrobe for the week right here."

I arched an eyebrow, mentally rolling my eyes at the term babe. "And, like, what's the deal?"

His grin widened, and he leaned against the doorframe. "I've given you enough clothes for the week. Wear whatever you want, but only from these. No repeats, though; we wouldn't want to get bored."

Bored, what a jerk. I sighed in defeat, realizing that arguing would get me nowhere. "Sure, like, hand it over, please!" I said, stepping out of my room and extending my hand.

As I accepted the clothes, he leaned closer, his voice lowering slightly. "You know, Izzy, I've got to say, you're rocking this blonde bimbo look. It suits you."

Images of last week flashed in my head. Of me, looking up at him as I stroked his cock. I couldn't help but scoff, my frustration with this situation getting the better of me. "Yeah, well, it's either this or, like, the streets."

His laughter followed me as I retreated into my room, clothes in hand. I shut the door behind me and let out a sigh of both annoyance and resignation. I glanced at the clothes. I might as well get dressed and get this day over with.

As I explored the contents of the bags, it was evident that Braden had outdone himself this week. Leather pants, short shorts, miniskirts, and tiny tops sprawled out before me, each seemingly designed to give off a "come fuck me" vibe. He had some audacity. Looking closer, this must have cost him a lot. It feels like the money I would be paying for rent is going directly back to me. I could not comprehend this, so I just shrugged and moved on.

My attention then turned to the underwear selection. There were precisely six pairs of skimpy panties, which meant that one day this week, I'd have to go commando. Braden was sticking firmly to his "no repeats" rule. And then there were the bras, each generously padded to give my assets an extra lift. That bastard, you'd think I was hot enough, but he keeps throwing these jabs at my boob size. Sure, they are small, but they are cute. Is that not good enough? What am I thinking? Who cares what he thinks?

At the bottom of the bag, Braden included an assortment of baby dolls and other sexy nighties for bedtime. At least I don't have to sleep naked.

After a brief consideration, I chose a pair of cut-off jeans for the day. I wanted to start the week off in Braden's good graces; he seemed to enjoy these the other day. However, these weren't just short; they were scandalously brief, with the lower curves of my ass peeking out. Paired with the tiny top and the padded bra, I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

And then there were the shoes. Braden had included a collection of high heels. I shook my head. Thank goodness I didn't have to enter the real world dressed like this today.

With one last glimpse in the mirror, I couldn't resist admiring myself. I did look hot. Exiting my room, I quickly remembered why I was not too fond of high heels. Seriously, who enjoys torturing themselves like this? My footsteps echoed down the hallway as I went to the common areas. But it seemed like I'd taken longer than I thought because the apartment was quiet. Doing these cleaning chores without having to parade around dressed like this for my roommates was a win in my books.

I decided to tackle the cleaning list first. At least that was familiar territory. As I scrubbed and dusted, my mind wandered. Maybe I was doing better than I thought because the list was shortening quickly. It was surprising but also kind of a relief. Perhaps that's why section A was worth fewer points this week.

Lunchtime rolled around, and I allowed myself a moment of respite, sinking into a chair to give my feet a break. Looking around the empty room, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to get in some of that training. After all, losing points was not an option.

I pulled up today's training video and the bimbo instructor I'd become all too familiar with appeared. Strangely, I had started to get good at mimicking her voice. Who would've thought that sounding like a bimbo would be a skill I'd rock? I shook my head at the absurdity of it all as I practiced my best imitation.

While finishing the cleaning chores, I heard the boys' voices echoing through the apartment as they returned home. I braced myself for the inevitable teasing and banter that always accompanied their entrances. Sure enough, they didn't disappoint, making snarky remarks about my outfit and my body that I was ready to fire back at.

Post dinner and clean up, I seized the opportunity to retreat to the bathroom. A warm bubble bath was just what I needed after today. I sighed in relief as I sank into the warm water, feeling my tense muscles start to unwind. It was amazing how something as simple as a bath could provide a small escape from reality.

As I leaned back, closing my eyes and relaxing, my gaze wandered to the shelf beside the bathtub. There it was, my pink razor. I couldn't even escape the chores in the bathtub. Thinking back to the list, "shave your pussy - 15 points." That was a lot, even by their standards. And there was no denying that I needed those points.

I found myself toying with the idea as I traced my fingers along the razor's handle. I kept a trim landing strip, so I was used to shaving down there, but this time it was different. Was shaving to keep a roof over my head much worse than shaving for a partner or myself? It was, but I needed to rationalize myself into doing this.

With every careful pass of the razor, I couldn't shake the nagging question: Why did guys find this so appealing? I mean, seriously, was the sight of a completely bald pussy really that thrilling? Scrutinizing myself, it was like I was transforming into having the looks of a porn star before my eyes. I rationalized that I could keep this hidden until it grew back.

The water sloshed around me as I leaned back, attempting to relax. But I couldn't help but shake my head in disbelief. "What a strange situation I've stumbled into."

With a resigned sigh, I couldn't help but wonder how on earth I'd ended up here. Closing my eyes, I let the warmth of the water envelop me, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, this would end soon. The job interview? I had forgotten to ask Jason about it; he said he'd talk to his boss today.

I thought of Jason and the kiss we shared when he told me that news last week, which sent a jolt up my body. I explored my newly bald vagina for the first time, running my finger across it. From there, it was as if my hand had a mind of its own, and soon, I had two fingers inside me riding the wave of pleasure. It did feel really nice this way. The orgasm was intense, and I hoped the bathroom had enough insulation so that none of my roommates heard me.

As I dried off and dressed, I knew things were getting more intense. The choices I was making and the boundaries I was pushing were all part of a twisted game I was playing to survive. And so, with a deep breath and a reluctant determination, I left the bathroom.

Dressing in the pajamas Braden had provided, I couldn't believe he'd gone for this choice: a sexy baby doll outfit. The frills, the lace, it was all so embarrassing and girly. But I had learned that pride was a luxury I couldn't afford regarding these chores.

Clad in the absurd ensemble, I went to the living room, determined to claim the 15 points I'd just earned. However, I heard a hushed "shh" that sent a strange shiver down my spine as I approached. It was as if I were walking in on something, but what? Were they plotting something? Their sudden halt and guilty expressions were evident as I entered, but I brushed it off, attributing it to some cryptic camaraderie.

Soon, catcalls and playful taunts filled the air. Braden's knowing grin was wide, and Teddy's amused, embarrassed smirk only added to the spectacle.

"Like, seriously, boys, can't you find something better to do than, like, gang up on me?" My voice dripped with a flirtatious tone that I loathed, but it seemed like they loved it.

Their laughter and banter continued, and I fought to keep my composure. Braden's chuckles resounded, and Jason couldn't hide his amusement either.

"Okay, moving on," I declared, gathering up my dignity. "I wanted to, like, put in my request for the points from," I paused, embarrassed and whispered, "shaving my pussy."

Braden's grin faltered a touch, replaced by a more pragmatic expression. "Izzy, babe, we can't just take your word for it, can we? Gotta have some, you know, evidence."

My heart plummeted. Evidence? How on earth was I supposed to provide that?

"It's simple," Braden continued, his tone steadfast. "If you want those points, you gotta show us."

A heavy silence hung in the air. Show my roommates my pussy? I gulped. The seconds ticked by, tension thick in the room. Hands trembling, I found myself cornered, facing an impossible decision. Show them? My cheeks burned even hotter, but I couldn't back down now. I needed those points. Summoning every ounce of my resolve, I took a deep breath and gave in to their absurd demand. With a shaky hand, I pulled down my panties and gingerly lifted the frilly edge of my baby doll pajamas, exposing myself.

Bless his awkward soul, Teddy blushed furiously, his eyes darting away even as a spark of excitement flickered within them. Jason, ever the cool one, tried to maintain his casual demeanor, but his appreciative gaze spoke volumes. And then there was Braden, that sexist jerk.

"Teddy, Jason, enjoy this moment. Isn't she so fucking hot like this?"

Braden's tone made my skin crawl, and he didn't even address me.

My voice, for once, trembled with genuine anger. "Don't get too excited, Braden. It's not like I'm doing this for fun."

He gave a low chuckle, his eyes taking in my newly bald pussy. "Oh, I don't know. You're having a grand old time from where I'm standing."

That is when I noticed I was starting to get damp. What is wrong with me? Pushing aside my arousal, I clenched my fists in anger, my patience wearing thin. "Have you seen enough?"

Perhaps sensing the tension, Jason cleared his throat and interjected, "Yeah, Braden, I think we've got the picture."

Teddy mumbled an agreement, his cheeks still flushed a bright shade of red. But Braden, ever unrelenting, couldn't resist, "I wish we did get a picture. Hey, does anyone have their phone? Want a few extra points, Izzy?"

My lips curled into a scowl, my irritation boiling over. "You're disgusting." I was humiliated, so I hurriedly retreated to my room. This flashing girl wasn't who I was.

Still seething from the encounter in the living room, I was surprised when Jason caught up to me. His voice was gentle as he asked, "Hey, Izzy, can we chat for a moment?"

I hesitated but then obliged, wondering if this was about the awkward kiss we'd shared yesterday.

"Of course," I responded, trying to keep my tone casual.

He looked at me with that same caring expression, his eyes reflecting his concern. "Just wanted to check in and see how you're holding up."

I paused, not sure if I wanted to be honest or not. "Honestly, Jason, it's been insane. I didn't, like, expect any of this."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I get it. It's not an easy situation. But, well, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

My heart skipped a beat. This was it, right? He was going to address the kiss. But then, he said something that got me even more excited.

"I talked to my boss today," he began, "and he needs a secretary. I mentioned you, and he's open to considering you for the position."

I couldn't help myself. I practically launched myself into his arms in an enthusiastic hug. "Oh my gosh, Jason, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

He chuckled, but his expression soon became more serious. "I don't want to dampen your excitement, Izzy, but I have to be upfront. There's a bit of a challenge. We've got around 50 interviews lined up this week, and most of the candidates have a ton of experience. It's a coveted position."

I deflated a bit, my excitement tempered by the reality check. "Oh, I see. Well, I'll still, like, try my best. Maybe I can make a good impression."

He offered a supportive smile. "I believe in you. Remember one more thing: I work for a boss who's an old-school traditionalist. Just be prepared for that."

I furrowed my brow, intrigued by the cryptic comment. "What do you, like, mean by 'old school traditionalist'?"

Jason shrugged. "You'll see. Just be yourself."

"Thanks," I said sincerely, touched by his support.

He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the living room. Left alone in the hallway, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this job opportunity could be my ticket out of this crazy arrangement.

Chapter 3

Tuesday [24 pts]

I settled in front of my laptop, preparing for another round of the bizarre training my roommates had thrust upon me. I expected it to be another day of voice training, but to my surprise, it was something entirely different: walking sexy.

"Seriously?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head in disbelief. What on earth were they turning me into? But I knew I had no choice but to go along with it. After all, I needed those points to keep a roof over my head.

I clicked play, and the training video began. It showed various models strutting their stuff down the runway, their hips swaying provocatively with every step with instructions voiced over. I couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all.

But as I watched and listened, something strange happened. I got up and attempted to mimic the models' sexy walks. With each exaggerated step, I could feel my hips sway in a way I had never consciously tried before.

Surprisingly, this new way of walking seemed to help with the forced wearing of high heels. It was as if I'd unlocked some secret to making them less painful, and I couldn't deny that the newfound confidence in my stride felt oddly empowering, in a way.

I continued practicing around the room, walking as if I wanted all eyes on me. It was a strange feeling, but I had to admit I was getting the hang of it.

Dinner was almost ready when I heard my roommates returning home. For a split second, I forgot what I was wearing. But as they entered the scene, reality slapped me in the face like a wet fish.

There I stood, donned in leather pants that felt like a second skin and a top that was essentially a glorified bra, oh, let's not forget the padded bra beneath it all. If I had any shred of dignity left, it was swiftly evaporating.