Chores

Someone was banging on your door.

'Holt! HOLT!'

You wake up groggy. For a moment, you almost believed you were in Meghan's room and that the past week had all been a crappy dream. You don't remember her room smelling of musty air and urine though. You groan, the memories of your little accident coming back.

'HOLT! Up! Let's go, you're gonna give me a hand or what?!'

'Coming,' you called back.

'Well, hurry up!' You heard dad stomp back down.

'Fuck.' You groaned to yourself, stretching from your spot on the floor. What a night. What was wrong with you? Between your muscular thighs, your pale cock looked even more pathetic all shriveled up in the cold light of day.

Sunday. You were to start classes tomorrow. You phone told you it was 8.13 AM. There was still so much left to do. It would be at least a couple of weeks before you were properly settled in.

You could check out the mall. You needed some new stuff anyway: all you brought was your meager box-full of stuff and your clothes, the latter of which still wasn't here yet. Dad wouldn't be too pleased about unpacking everything himself, but he did say we needed groceries and a new microwave.

Then again, you had a piss-stained mattress to clean, and an assortment of other chores around the house. You're at least a little curious about the property, even if you hate it - this place looked big enough for a home gym. Heck, you might even find some good workout equipment stored away in one of the rooms.