Chores Build Character - Week 03

Chapter 1

Monday [0 pts]

I woke up to the faint sound of paper sliding under my door. The rustling of the sheet was a familiar and unwelcome intrusion. Another updated chore list. My heart sank as I realized that the weekly ritual had begun again. I stretched and rubbed my eyes.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but reflect on how it all started. The loss of my job as a waitress had thrown my life into disarray. The memory of being unceremoniously fired still stung, and I couldn't shake the bitterness that came with it.

The only good thing that did come from it was Kimmy. The daughter of the man who fired me. The girl who took my job. We had our second "date" this week, and I was excited. The memory of her lips on mine intruded my thoughts.

My thoughts then wandered to the changes I'd undergone. My natural black Latina hair was now dyed a slutty blonde. Once filled with sarcasm, my voice had taken on the airy, flirty tone of a bimbo. The exaggerated hip-swaying walk, the constant hair-twirling, and the flirting all had become a part of me. Did I hate it? It was hard to say. It was out of my control and felt like roleplay, but I had to keep it up to fit my roommates' expectations.

The outfits they picked for me were outrageous. Some days, it added to the idea I was roleplaying a character. A much sluttier character than I portrayed my whole life until two weeks ago. But then again, I had chosen this path, hadn't I? I had agreed to take on the chores to stay here rent-free. To avoid being homeless.

And then there was Jason. I know Izzy, don't shit where you sleep, but he was so sweet. Of all my roommates, he seemed to be the only one who cared about my well-being. Our kisses were passionate, but was this realistic? Being in the position of having two potential relationships right now while I was dealing with this arrangement was a bit overwhelming.

Reality called me back. I had a job interview at the Jiggle Joint for a waitressing position. It was the only waitress job in the city I could get after Kimmy's father blacklisted me.

Why is this all happening to me?

Finally, I couldn't avoid it any longer. I sighed, threw the covers off, and climbed out of bed. The new chore list awaited me, as did the 100 points I needed to earn this week to earn my keep.

I slumped into my chair, chore list in hand, fully prepared to face the new tasks that would dictate my life for the upcoming week. As my eyes moved down the list, a surge of irritation coursed through me at the sight of the changes.

The first item on the list? A complete wardrobe makeover. For a whopping 30 points. Seriously? I couldn't help but scoff. This felt more permanent than my roommates choosing my outfits each day. If I wanted any regular clothes ever again, I'd have to get them myself after this was all over.

But it got worse. I glanced further down and practically choked on my disbelief. Breast enlargement surgery, a mind-boggling 100 points, the entire weekly quota. My chest tightened with exasperation. This had to be some kind of joke. It was Braden, no doubt about it. He'd teased me about my size enough times to make his point, and now this? It was beyond infuriating.

And if that wasn't enough, there was the photo shoot for my social media account, IzzyEcchi, a mere 10 points. But here's the kicker: I'd lose 15 points if refused. It feels like the choices I was given each week were getting more and more limited.

It was high time I confronted my roommates about this absurdity. This was getting out of hand. I couldn't let them dictate every aspect of my life and make these decisions without my input. They were going too far, and they were going to hear about it.

I stormed into the living area, where my roommates were gathered around the breakfast table, my frustration simmering just below the surface. I was determined to have a serious discussion about this arrangement.

"Hey guys, we should totally chat about these chores," I began, my voice laced with as much annoyance as I could muster after going through the vocal training I had gone through. But before I could delve into my grievances, Jason, ever the peacemaker, interjected with an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Hey, have you seen this meme, Izzy?" He showed me his phone, and as I watched, I found myself unintentionally spacing out for a moment.

While my attention wandered, Teddy, the shy nerd of the group, glanced down at his plate. He couldn't handle conflict.

Regaining my composure, I managed to return the conversation to the chores. "Okay, guys, let's, you know, get back on topic. What's up with this whole wardrobe makeover thingy?"

He smirked, "Oh yeah, that. Well, we thought it might be better if you started picking your own outfits. Taking turns picking your outfit was fun, but we figured you should have more control. So, we thought we'd get rid of the clothes we don't approve of and buy you a bunch of clothes we do approve of. Then, you can just make your own choices."

I couldn't help but think that for 30 points, that's not so bad. It's almost a third of the week's worth. Plus, it put some control back into my life.

With a flirty twirl of my hair, I gave my agreement. "Oh, perfect. That sounds like really great."

The roommates nodded, and they explained that the wardrobe makeover would take place that night. While I was relieved that the conversation hadn't turned into a heated argument, I couldn't help but wonder how the changes to my wardrobe would further alter my life outside this home. It was one thing to parade around like a bimbo in front of my roommates, but to do it in public?

With breakfast behind me, I was ready to face another day in this peculiar life I'd found myself in. I glanced at my closet, pondering my outfit for the day. It occurred to me that it might be the last day I had complete control over my wardrobe choices.

I perused my closet, eyeing my clothes critically. Many of them seemed to have faded into the realm of the bland and outdated or just plain faded. It had been years since I had had the money to keep my wardrobe fresh. Today, I was in the mood for something comfortable but still eye-catching. I picked a pair of short shorts and an older, tight-fitting T-shirt that I always thought looked nice. The high heels, which had become a part of my daily attire, were slipped on effortlessly.

The morning and early afternoon were dedicated to my cleaning chores, the routine I'd grown accustomed to. There was a certain rhythm; it had become a part of my life. The 6 points to begin the week always felt great, plus it kept the house nice.

As the day transitioned into late afternoon, I took on today's training video, not wanting to lose points by skipping it. It continued with the behavior and attitude training. More hair twirling and flirting for me, oh boy. I hit play and settled in but found myself spacing out again as the video unfolded.

The content of the video slipped away, leaving me in a trance-like state. When it finally ended, I blinked and looked around, feeling strangely relaxed. It was as if the video had smoothed out the edges of my thoughts, leaving me in a state of pleasant calm.

But then, I realized how late it had become. Panic set in as I rushed to start dinner. I couldn't afford to be unprepared when the boys got home. Dinner was now part of my responsibilities, and I couldn't disappoint them, not when points were on the line.

After dinner, I was in my bedroom, surrounded by my roommates Braden, Jason, and Teddy. Excitement bubbled in them as they were ready for the wardrobe makeover. I couldn't help but wonder how drastically my closet would change by the end of the evening.

With a playful twirl of my hair and a flirty tone, I couldn't resist asking, "Like, what's the game plan for my wardrobe, boys?"

Jason took the lead, his eyes filled with excitement. He gazed over at me with the hope that I was excited too, and I tried to look at it, no matter what my real concerns were. "It's a few-step process. We start by eliminating everything unacceptable. We keep everything that is acceptable, and we alter the ones that can be saved. Tomorrow, we have a lot of new selections to give you that will round out your collection." The thought of my roommates deciding about my clothes sent a thrilling shiver down my spine.

The process was nothing short of exasperating. My roommates went through every piece of clothing I had as if I were invisible, their focus unwavering. Every item had to be sexy or slutty, designed to flaunt my figure. The boring ones were placed into a quickly filling-up bag.

The boys occasionally turned their attention to pieces they believed needed alterations as the process continued. Braden, always ready to stir things up, held up a plain black t-shirt. He winked at me and said, "Izzy, how about you model this one for us?"

I removed my top and handed it to him without a second thought. Teddy blushed and looked away, clearly flustered. Jason sported a mischievous grin, his eyes dancing with delight. "Silly us, we forgot to inspect the clothes you are currently wearing. The top and shorts look worth saving, but that bra has to go. Hand it over."

I hesitated momentarily. Was this really what I have become? "Oh my gosh, Braden. Well, like, if you insist!" I giggled, then playfully unhooked the bra and handed it to him.

Braden was still looking at me with those super expectant eyes. Then he pointed at my shorts and said, "We've gotta check what's under there, slut." Ugh, I couldn't believe it, but I reluctantly took off my shorts too.

And then, as if things weren't awkward enough, my panties were up for debate. It was like a mini fashion jury, but it turned out to be a 2-1 vote against my poor panties, with only Teddy saying they were hot enough. So, with a little eye roll, I handed those over, too.

I stood, completely naked, in front of my three male roommates as they determined how slutty I should dress. Jason kindly handed me a fresh pair of my remaining panties and my shorts. I quickly put those on, feeling a bit more covered.

As I slipped on the black t-shirt they wanted to model on, all three exchanged mischievous looks, trying to determine whether this shirt was worth keeping. I couldn't help but chuckle at their antics. They took this very seriously like it was a life-or-death decision.

But then Braden did something unexpected. He pulled out a pair of scissors, and I was taken aback, wondering what was going on. I gasped audibly.

With a smirk, he mentioned making the shirt "hotter" with some "modifications." I couldn't help but ask, "Modifications? What are you, like, talking about?"

Braden held the scissors up and looked around for confirmation from Teddy and Jason. They all had these devilish grins, and he raised the scissors even higher, dangerously close to my tits. Then he cut my shirt to expose just a tiny bit of underboob. He stepped back, all proud of himself, and declared it "perfect."

"Oh, Braden, you're such a bad boy!" I flirted, even though I felt slightly exposed in my now modified shirt.

The process continued piece by piece, with Teddy occasionally peeking at the garments and offering shy compliments. He was primarily focused on helping with the bags of clothes we were setting aside for donation.

As we left, I looked at my much emptier wardrobe, and Jason noted, "The stuff we're not keeping is headed for donation to a women's shelter. You'd like that, right?"

I nodded, "Totally, Jason. Thank you!"

Surprisingly, I felt slightly excited about what was left and the new items I'd receive. Change was in the air, and there was no denying it.

Chapter 2

Tuesday [39 pts]

Standing outside the dimly lit and somewhat seedy strip club, I couldn't help but curse Kimmy's father for blacklisting me from every other waitress job in town. This was my only option, and it felt like a far cry from the simple waitressing gigs I used to take for granted. Now, dropping out of Journalism school is a worse decision than ever.

My heart pounded as I stared at the unassuming entrance. The neon sign flickered above, reading "Jiggle Joint," casting an eerie glow on the sidewalk. The name echoed what a sleazy establishment this was. I couldn't believe I was about to take this step, crossing the threshold of this business.

The strip club's exterior was a patchwork of peeling paint and faded glamour. The walls, once a vibrant red, now looked tired and worn. Graffiti and stickers adorned the windows, giving the place a rebellious vibe.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that if I could handle the chore list, I could handle it. I wasn't the same girl who'd lost her waitress job a few weeks prior. I was bolder.

With newfound determination, I pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.

Inside the dimly lit strip club, I scanned the room to figure out who to approach for the interview. The atmosphere was a mix of hushed conversations, dimmed lights, and a palpable anticipation.

Standing in the vibrant lights of the strip club, I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. Despite my rather revealing outfit, the black tee that showed a tantalizing hint of underboob, thanks to Braden's scissors, paired with a dangerously short black skirt that he also shortened and completed with sky-high heels, nobody seemed to be paying much attention. As I swayed subtly in my high heels, I observed the patrons engrossed in their conversations, utterly oblivious to the effort I had put into my appearance.

What was I thinking, though? Did I really want to be the center of attention everywhere I went? I should be happy nobody noticed me. Those thoughts were interrupted when a middle-aged man with a flamboyant charm that radiated with positivity approached me. His eyes sparkled with a warm and welcoming energy, and he introduced himself with a friendly grin.

"Hello there! I'm Barry, the manager of this 'fine' establishment," he exclaimed with a flourish.

Surprised, I greeted him with a genuine smile. "I'm Izzy, and I'm here for the interview."

Barry's enthusiasm was infectious, and he wasted no time. "Well, Izzy, I must say, you're in the right place. You look gorgeous, by the way. Follow me to my office, and we'll start."

With a sense of relief, I followed Barry through the labyrinthine corridors of the strip club, my heels echoing in the dimly lit hallways.

Inside Barry's office, the air was heavy with the scent of perfume and the glow of a faux crystal chandelier above. His office was surprisingly well-lit and impeccably decorated, which was not what I had expected from a place like this. The rainbow flag on the wall gave me even more comfort. The dimly lit corridors and sultry atmosphere outside felt worlds away.

Barry, with his flamboyant charisma, invited me to sit. As he settled behind his desk, his demeanor set me at ease. Despite the exotic surroundings, it was almost like being at a regular interview.

He leaned forward, his fingers steepled, and his eyes twinkled with a genuine warmth. "Izzy, darling, I have to say, you come highly recommended."

Internally, I rolled my eyes. Highly recommended, indeed. It was no secret that Kimmy's father, of all people, had highly recommended me here. I couldn't help but feel annoyed at the thought that he'd blacklisted me from every other place in town only to point me in this humiliating direction. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything too sarcastic. The bimbo persona I had to maintain on the outside was a challenge, especially when dealing with these surprises.

I gathered my courage. "Thank you, but I am concerned about working at a strip club."

Barry leaned back, his smile undeterred. "Oh, my dear, I completely understand. But let me assure you, I'm here to support you. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's a team effort here, and we value our staff's comfort and well-being above all else."

The sincerity in Barry's voice and the assurance in his eyes made me hesitate. Maybe this place was different from what I'd expected.

Chapter 3

Wednesday [42 pts]

I settled in front of my laptop, ready to tackle another round of training videos. They were part of my daily routine now and added a nice distraction from the real world.

As the video began, I tried to focus, absorbing the quirky advice on how to be a proper flirt. But something about the soothing background music and the rhythmic narration made it hard to concentrate. It was like a lullaby for my mind.

My thoughts started to drift, and my eyes glazed over as I stared at the screen. The instructions from the video turned into a soft hum in the background, and my mind began to wander.

In that dreamy state, I felt strangely calm, floating in a sea of tranquility. The world around me seemed to dissolve, and I was lost in blissful oblivion. The videos had a peculiar way of lulling me into a serene daze. For those brief minutes, I was free from the complexities of my transformed life.

Knocking on my door disrupted my peace, and with a sigh, I knew who it was. Braden had promised to deliver the final additions to my wardrobe.

As I opened the door, he held multiple bags and boxes. "Hey there, Izzy."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Like, oh my gosh, hi, Braden! Whatcha got for me?" I purred thanks to the training, fully aware of the direction this conversation was about to take.

"Izzy, you're gonna look so hot in these. I can't wait to see you freely embrace your inner slut," he teased, his eyes roaming over me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

I took them from him, "Oh, like, let's see what you've got for me today."

As I peeked at the new additions to my wardrobe, my eyes widened at seeing several skimpy outfits.

I couldn't help but feel curiosity and trepidation as I took a sneak peek at the new additions to my wardrobe. My closet would now be adorned with various high heels, seemingly taller than necessary for any occasion. It was a collection of skimpy outfits for practically every event. It was quite the departure from my former, more conservative wardrobe.

My thoughts danced between embarrassment at the thought of wearing some of these revealing outfits in public and sheer excitement that I had just experienced the most significant influx of clothes into my wardrobe that I'd had in many years. The contrast between my old self and the new me became increasingly apparent, and I wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Braden teased, "Well, Izzy, you are a slut, might as well show it."

"Oh, you think so, Braden?" I replied, a mischievous giggle escaping my lips. " Well, I'll give it a shot." I playfully tossed my hair, trying to keep up the act despite wanting to slap him.

As I was unpacking the latest additions to my wardrobe, the door to my room opened, and in walked Jason. He leaned against the door frame with a sly smile as he observed the spectacle before him. I was huddled over all the bags and boxes, sorting them and putting them away.

"Hey there, Izzy," he greeted me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Seems like you've got some interesting choices there."

I looked up from the pile of clothes, feeling a bit flustered by his sudden appearance. "Oh, hey, Jason. Like, totally. I'm just trying to figure out how these outfits fit into my life. They're, like, sooo bold!" I replied with a flirty tone.

He chuckled and stepped closer, his gaze lingering on my body. "Bold is one way to put it. But you know, sometimes a little boldness can be a good thing," he remarked, his voice low and suggestive. Damn, he was so hot.

After some banter, Jason took a seat, his gaze filled with concern, and he spoke sincerely, "I just wanted to check in, Izzy. This whole arrangement can be difficult to handle, and I don't want it to overwhelm you."