Chores Build Character

Mustering newfound bravado, I sidled up, hands ready to work wonders. Using my most relaxing moisturizer, my hands landed on his shoulders. I dived into massaging mode, kneading away the day's stress. I used to get great compliments on my massage skills from my ex, so I felt confident. My fingers seemed to find the right spots instinctively, and I focused on each motion, aiming to provide the best experience possible. Braden's low moans of satisfaction spurred me on. Maybe if I got in his good graces, he'd be more merciful towards me.

"Damn, Izzy, you're pretty damn good at this," Braden groaned, his voice husky with pleasure. "My muscles have been killing me after practice."

My massage dance continued, fingers tracing pressure paths down his back. Although his back started off stiff, it was starting to relax from my hands.

As I continued the massage, I could sense that we were nearing its end. The room was filled with an almost palpable tension, a mix of the strange chore I was performing and the undeniable sexual energy hanging in the air. Braden's voice shattered the silence as I was lost in my thoughts.

"Hey, Izzy," he said, his tone almost casual despite the situation, "do you

mind, uh, grabbing my front?"

I couldn't believe he had actually asked for that. I mean, I probably should have seen it coming, but it still caught me off guard. My mind raced as I tried to process the implications of his request. I glanced down at his naked form sprawled out on my bed, his chiseled muscles practically begging for attention. This was definitely pushing things way beyond the boundaries of an ordinary massage chore. The temptation to give in was strong despite the doubts nagging in my mind.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the voice training made it come out all naive and teasing, "Braden, oh my gosh, that's, like, seriously pushing it."

"How about this? I'll add 5 more points to your total. What do you say?"

I hesitated, caught between the desire to earn those points and the uncomfortable scenario unfolding before me. Damn, I really needed those points. I reluctantly agreed, "Like, totally fine, but, like, just this once, okay?"

And with that agreement, he turned over on my bed. My gaze instinctively went straight to his cock, standing tall. My heart raced, and I had to swallow hard. This was uncharted territory, but damn, he was well-hung.

I did my best to focus on the task, my hands gliding over Braden's chest as he lay there, completely exposed. I kept my gaze averted, avoiding accidental eye contact that might make the situation even more awkward. I had to stretch to off angles to reach him, trying to avoid accidentally touching his member. My touch was gentle yet deliberate, my fingers working to ease the tension in his muscles. Here I was, dressed as Zantana, trying to stay professional. A giggle escaped my lips.

With that, he directed me towards his thick and apparently sore legs. I scoffed but did as he said. I knew I wasn't in control here. This put me in an unfortunate position, as I found myself face-to-face with the one part of his body I was trying to ignore.

His... well, let's call it what it is, his massive cock, was right there, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Still, I couldn't deny the temptation that tugged at me, urging me to take a closer look despite my reservations. It really was a beautiful cock.

"You know, Izzy, there's something else you could do for me. Something that would earn you enough points to be done for the week."

My hands almost stuttered in surprise. Did I hear that right? With a gulp, I found my voice, its altered pitch, and cadence, taking on a new layer of complexity. "Oh? What... what would that be?"

Braden's gaze, like, locked onto mine, brazen. "A happy ending."

Whoa, hold the phone. Did my roommate just say that? My cheeks turned like every shade of red known to mankind. The words bounced around in my head like a pinball, and each bounce sent a shiver down my spine. The idea was out in the open. I shifted on my feet, my fingers losing their smooth groove. The walls felt like they were closing in. I met his gaze, and my voice played its little game, tinged with this mix of what-on-earth-is-happening. "A happy ending? So, like, you mean..."

Braden's expression grew more earnest as he nodded. "Izzy, really think about it. You'd rack up enough points for the entire week and have the entire weekend to yourself. No more assigned outfits, no chores hanging over your head. You'd have the whole weekend for just you. Plus, you only have to use your hands."

Could I actually go through with it? The offer was undeniably tempting: a whole weekend for myself. To strategize and plan a way out of this mess. All it would cost me was one handy. I stood there, caught between possibilities, considering the weight of the week's struggles and the looming threat of homelessness.

His eyes locked onto mine, a glimmer of hope dancing within them. "Plus, I know you want to."

Ugh, seriously? I mean, come on. I was once a regular roommate, sharing a home and trying to be civil. Now, here I am, jobless and dependent on him to avoid the dreaded homeless fate. If that wasn't enough, in less than a freaking week, I've gone from a decent Latina to rocking this trashy blonde hair, all while spouting off in this, like, totally ridiculous way of speaking. And let's not forget that little massage stunt, where I dressed up like some sexier version of Zatana. The things I do, seriously. I figured if I leaned into this absurdity, maybe I could fast-track this madness and get it over with. So, I sighed, gathering my wavering words, and gave in. "Alright, Braden. I'm, like, totally in."

With that, I crossed another boundary I thought I'd never cross. With that, I was no better than any whore selling my body for money.

He nodded, bringing my attention to his erect cock. With a tentative hand, I reached for it, my fingers feeling his rock-hard shaft. They seemed small wrapped around it. I moved my eyes from that glorious sight to his eyes, closed to pleasure. Well, if he wanted a happy ending, he would get it. It's not my first-hand job.

I spit onto his cock, not only to lube it up but to make a big show of it. The better I did, the quicker it would be. With that, I started to move my hand up and down his shaft slowly at first. I cupped the balls, stimulated the taint, and pulled out all the tricks.

The best trick for Bradn was maintaining eye contact and using my best dirty talk. Making my eyes as big as I could, I tried to seduce him with my voice, urging him to speed up. Phrases like "Like, oh my gosh, you are like, seriously, so totally big!" and "Like, your cock seriously feels, like, sooo good! And finally, "Ugh, seriously, like, don't you, like, totally wanna cum for me?" The last one came out almost pleading.

He had seriously long-staying power, but that last one sent him over the edge. I started to feel his cock spasm in my hand, and sure enough, cum shot onto my face. A lot of it; he must have been saving up all week.

"Braden, like, oh my god, seriously? I can't even believe you!"

"Don't worry, slut, it's a great look for you. Now enjoy your weekend off."

Chapter 7

The Weekend

I woke up in disbelief about last night, but I tried to get Braden's cock out of my mind and focus on the right now. I did it, 100 points, and two days early. I have the whole weekend to myself. No chores, no needing approval on my clothing. I am my own woman.

Treat yourself! There is a problem with that plan. How could I possibly do that with no job and almost no money? I see the chore list on the table and am reminded that my only home has its rent paid by that stupid list.

It's time to be responsible, Izzy. Maybe I should study the list and devise a game plan for next week? Instead, my mind flashes back to my old waitressing job; perhaps there was a chance to get that back? Sure, it sucked, but it was better than whatever this is.

Regardless of my plan, I had to start the day like the quasi-adult I was pretending to be. After a quick shower and makeup, I was faced with choosing my own outfit for the first time in many days. In those days, I wore outfits I would usually not touch with a ten-foot pole. My underwear was easy, as I didn't have many choices. I found a matching pair in relatively good shape before venturing into my old wardrobe to find something appropriate. Maybe if I am dressed like myself, I will feel normal for a change?

Searching through my closet, I had a weird thought: all my clothes were boring. After days of it, I started to enjoy the looks and comments. I continued searching and found an old pair of jeans ripped up in the knees and fading. I cut off the legs with a devilish thought, creating a pair of shorts. Trying them on, I modeled them in the mirror. To my surprise, I realized I cut them a little high. I didn't mean to create full Daisy Dukes, but what can you do? I found a t-shirt that fits well, and to complete the look, I tied it up, revealing some midriff. I still looked hot, but not like a pornstar anymore. I guess we can consider that a success.

With one final glance, I gave myself a mental nod of approval and a mental pep talk, "Time to reclaim your life, Izzy!" and headed out the door, ready to face my old life.

Stepping back into the restaurant, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The hustle and bustle of the place, the familiar sounds, it felt strangely comforting. There was no time for walking down memory lane; I was here to reclaim my old job. My gaze swept across the room until it settled on a figure at the counter. She was a young woman, probably around 18, and her uniform accentuated her curves in a way that drew my attention. Looks like they got new uniforms since I left. Alright, I'll admit, I checked her out for a moment. She was hot. But then, my eyes landed on her name tag, "Kimmy." My heart sank. Kimmy was the boss' daughter who took my job after he fired me.

Annoyance bubbled up inside me. Seriously? Kimmy was practically a kid, and she had snatched away the job I had held for a year. I suppressed a sigh of annoyance. I knew it wasn't her fault, but it was hard to drop the irritation that bubbled within me. Why had my place been taken by someone so young?

Kimmy sensed my presence and looked up with a friendly smile. "Hello! Can I assist you with something?" Her voice was warm and genuine, and for a brief moment, I questioned whether she was sincere or just following protocol.

"Hey there! Like, I totally used to work here, you know? Just, like, felt the urge to totally check out the place again." Though I despised using the voice, I tried to make it sound as natural as possible, hoping to blend in without drawing any attention.

Kimmy tilted her head curiously. "Really? You used to work here? That's cool! I haven't seen you around before."

Her innocence was palpable, and I struggled to hold onto my irritation. She genuinely didn't know I had been a part of this place before her. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the irony. "Yeah, I guess I'm like, new again. Just wanted to see what's changed, you know?"

She nodded, her smile unwavering. "Well, it's a pretty great place. Feel free to ask if you need anything or have any questions." Her kindness was sincere, making it harder for me to stay frustrated. Instead of directing my anger at Kimmy, I should have focused on the owner who fired me. In a way, Kimmy's presence reminded me that my anger was misplaced.

Kimmy wasn't to blame for any of this. She was just doing her job, being friendly and helpful. "Thanks," I muttered, my airhead voice laced with a subtle undertone of annoyance. Kimmy didn't seem to pick up on it, continuing to smile genuinely.

Internally sighing, I let go of my frustration towards her. I mustered a smile, matching Kimmy's cheerful disposition. This smile masked my determination to regain control over my life. "Oh, um, excuse me, but, like, is it possible to, you know, maybe talk to the owner?" Could I seriously sound any dumber?

Kimmy's eagerness remained unchanged as she replied, "Of course! Let me go get him for you." With that, she walked away, leaving me to my thoughts. As I waited, I heard her sweet voice call out for her, "Daddy."

Stepping into David Montgomery's office, I found him seated behind his desk, wearing a composed yet slightly knowing expression. He was a middle-aged man, decently looking, with salt-and-pepper hair that added a touch of sophistication. As my gaze met his, I could almost sense the wheels turning in his mind: "Ah, Izzy's returned, I see. And she's quite the sight." Subtlety clearly wasn't his forte when it came to checking me out. The office was organized to a tee, with neatly stacked papers and everything in its designated place.

He gestured for me to sit, and his eyes locked onto mine as he leaned back. "So, Izzy, what brings you back here? I thought I fired you?"

That smug asshole. If I was going to convince him to give me my job back, I couldn't lose my cool. I cleared my throat, trying to sound all business-like, but the damn voice training seemed to have irreversible effects. "Like, okay, so I've been thinking. Maybe I, like, left too soon or something." His lips twitched, and I knew he was trying not to laugh. Seriously? Ugh, as if I wasn't frustrated enough with it already.

He leaned forward, his fingers steepled under his chin. "And why, may I ask, would I take you back? As you saw, my lovely daughter is doing a great job filling in for you."

I straightened in my chair, determined to make my case. This was my shot at reclaiming my job. I wasn't about to back down, even with this infuriating girl voice undermining my every word.

"Totally get it, Mr. Montgomery," I replied, attempting to sound composed. "But, like, life's all about second chances, right? I've been doing some soul-searching, and I've, like, learned from my mistakes. I promise I'd be, like, a model employee this time around." I couldn't believe how hard it was to sound serious with this voice.

He leaned back again, his gaze never leaving mine. "You know, Izzy, if you want your job back, you must prove yourself. And maybe, just maybe, treat me with a bit more respect this time."

A surge of frustration washed over me. This man was impossible to deal with. But I needed this job, at least temporarily. So, I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride. "I'm totally on board with that, Mr. Montgomery. Like, I've learned my lesson and stuff."

He smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Well, it's not that simple, Izzy. You know what it takes to get ahead in this business." To make it more obvious, he looked down at his crotch.

Anger surged within me, threatening to burst out in a torrent of words I might regret later. How dare he insinuate such a thing? But then, a flicker of realization passed through my mind. This thing was exactly what I was doing to keep my home. The thought brought a moment of hesitation, a pause before I unleashed my fury. That was different, though; that was for survival. This? This was different?

"I, like, totally can't even with you right now," I glared at him, the anger simmering beneath my skin. "Like, seriously? You must think you're like, all that." My voice was laced with venom; at least, it was in my head. "Well, I've got some, like, news for you, Mr. Montgomery. You're like, seriously, nothing but a pathetic little man.

His smirk wavered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Izzy, my dear, you always did have a knack for theatrics."

I shot up from my seat, a blazing fire in my eyes. "Listen here, you smug bastard. I might have made mistakes, but I'm not letting you control me ever again." My words were sharp and pointed, starkly contrasting to the airy voice that persisted.

He leaned back, his expression darkening. "And what exactly do you think you can do? With that dyed hair, that slutty outfit, and that voice, who do you think you are?"

His words stung, cutting through my anger like a knife. But I wasn't about to back down now. "Screw you and your job."

A sardonic chuckle escaped his lips. "Good luck with that, Izzy. I guarantee you'll never find another waitressing job in this town."

My fingers clenched into fists at my sides, my determination burning brighter. "We'll, like, see about that." With that final challenge, I stormed out of his office.

As I left, my eyes caught Kimmy's surprised gaze. I couldn't help myself; I stopped and turned to her. "Your father's a jerk," I said, my voice devoid of the usual airheaded tone. "And I'm sorry you have to deal with him." And with that, I left the restaurant, my steps heavy with the weight of my decision and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

After that debacle at the restaurant, I was glad Jason was home alone. He was nice enough to give me some comforting words and a friendly hug. It did help a bit, but I decided to take a break and relax. I lounged around the house, catching up on some shows and trying to clear my mind.

As the weekend progressed, the voice thing had become second nature, and the roommates seemed to love it.

One thing they didn't love was my outfits, as they were apparently not up to their expectations. Braden, in particular, made that abundantly clear. "Why are you dressed like some plain Jane today?"

I rolled my eyes, attempting to retain my usual sarcastic demeanor, but this voice I had to use just made everything sound so... vacuous. "Oh, Braden, you're like, so perceptive. Just felt like, you know, toning it down a notch."

He smirked, clearly amused by my attempt at a comeback. "Yeah, well, maybe try toning it up a notch next time, okay?"

I huffed, "Sure thing, Braden. Like, totally noted."

Although I meant to come off with obvious sarcasm, it did sound like I agreed with him. This voice training chore may have been the worst chore of the bunch.

I didn't want to give them any wrong ideas, so I dressed even more conservatively for the rest of the weekend. There is no need to add more complications to my already chaotic life.

By Sunday evening, my frustration about the job situation peaked. I needed a solution, and fast. Swallowing my pride, I approached Jason. "Hey, Jason, um, I know it's a bit out of the blue, but is your office hiring?"

He looked surprised but thoughtful. "Actually, we might be. Let me check on Monday and get back to you."

Hope surged within me, and I did something completely unexpected in that moment of exhilaration. I kissed Jason. I mean, what the actual fuck? Shocked by my impulsiveness, I darted away and ran back to my room, heart racing. What had come over me? I wasn't one to act on impulse like that. Seriously, he was my roommate. Don't shit where you eat, right, Izzy? Plus, he was basically controlling me. He was the one who dyed my hair this ridiculous color!

I hid in my room for the rest of the evening, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had overtaken me. The thought of facing another week of chores tomorrow was almost a relief; it was at least something structured I could focus on. My mind, though, kept drifting back to that impulsive kiss. Stupid Izzy.

Taking score for one week, I had masturbated in front of Teddy, gave Braden a handy, and kissed Jason. Maybe I was the house slut already?

Something slipped under my door as I lay in bed, ready to call it a day. I raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. I scrambled off my bed and picked up the paper, reading "Chore List Week 2." Seriously? I thought. The rules were changing already?

I spread the paper out on the desk and saw an attached note that read:

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.