He had arrived mid-day on Friday. It was now Saturday evening and he considered his situation. Because of all the fuss yesterday, his schedule was in complete ruin. He had tried to make up for it today, and thankfully, for whatever reason, he hadn't been called upon to do any specific chores.
Either Saturday was quiet, or the women responsible for the chores had forgotten to delegate them to him. He didn't count the clean up at the meals and he hadn't been expected to cook. Apparently they didn't think of that as "cleaning." Several had stopped by to say hello, peeking into Wendy's room and chatting briefly. He had dressed in casual slacks and white blouse with a small bra to fill it out; conservative. He didn't want to create any more scenes if he could avoid them.
He was told to stay on the Council floor at all times, unless he was exiting or taking meals. That was fine with him -- he didn't need to call any more attention to himself with the rest of the women in the house. His penis was a little uncomfortable, uncomfortable in a way that made him think this was a Monday. He had been very careful for over three years now to only relieve himself once a month, and always on a Sunday night. As a rule, the next day was always a little uncomfortable, but today was more so than usual.
It wasn't too surprising, given how the women had practically attacked him the previous night on top of Corrine the previous afternoon.
In addition to waking with an erection, an event he noted only on Mondays after relieving himself, there was a slight pain inside - a small throbbing - that appeared every once in a while. Each time it called itself to his attention, Chester felt a fleeting moment of shame and humiliation. He knew he wasn't "bad" for being a boy and having these urges, but he always felt a little pang of guilt even as the burst of momentary pleasure overwhelmed him.
He had carefully worked out his scheduled releases so that he didn't wake in the middle of the night all wet and sticky. Once per month seemed to be the minimum necessary, and he could choose the means and method to avoid creating a mess. He would never have allowed the ejaculate to spray hither/thither onto the floor. Usually, he lay in his bed with a proper tissue that could be flushed away.
His thoughts returned to his homework. Mostly he had caught up, except for a review of the articles in the Poly Sci class. He put away the math book and associated work sheets, careful to place his spiral notebook in its prescribed pouch in his backpack where he could expect to find it on Monday, and took out the PS assignment. It was mostly a review of the writings leading up to the Magna Carta, stuff he could almost recite by rote from his high school AP course years before.
Within the hour he completed the review, packed it up and prepared to get ready for bed. He wondered if he would be faced with a similar assault in the bathroom again this evening. There was nothing for it except to go about his routine and try to make the best of it. Maybe they were all too distracted by their parties or boyfriends or whatever to pay attention to him.
He carefully undressed, placing the dirty things in the clothes hamper, hanging the clothes he could wear a second time on their hangers and grabbed his toiletry bag. He reached for the robe unconsciously and then stopped. He looked at the clock -- 10:30; past rush hour. But they had said he had to hang it on the door no matter when. The thought of being caught naked in the bathroom again filled him with mixed emotions: a weird sense of arousal combined with humiliation. If there were any women in the room, they would likely stare. They seemed so obsessed with his peter! He folded the robe over his arm, prepared to leave the room naked as the day he was born.
He entered the hallway, somewhat self-consciously, expecting at any moment to be accosted by one of the senior women. He walked quickly to the bathroom, his penis swinging from side to side, the motion causing the slight pain from yesterday's attention. The feeling of Corrine's hand forcing him to ejaculate was immediately overwhelmed by the humiliation of Roxie masturbating him in front of the rest of the women.
Replaying the prior evening's events for the umpteenth time, he wondered what it was about Catherine that gave him a jolt. Even now, as he walked into the bathroom, he realized he was growing slightly, the pendulum swing of his peter slowed somewhat by his mushrooming erection.
He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment upon entering the deserted bathroom. It was much better to not be bothered at all, and for that he was very relieved. But if he was to be bothered, he thought a little shamefully, it would be much nicer to be bothered the way the women bothered him as opposed to the men. No rat-tails on his naked butt, no cat-calls and jeers as he walked down the hall and no crude references to what the women were all too happy to notice were excellent choices in clothing. He looked down to see the robe draped across his arm and returned to the hall to hang it up. Still no one to be seen.
Completing his toilette with absolutely no molestation, he returned to his room, slightly deflated. He recognized the symptoms: he was tired, and no doubt so much loss of semen in so short of time was contributing to the mild depression. It surely wasn't healthy to lose that much vital fluid. He picked his favorite silk pajamas, grabbed the latest novel on the stack and slipped into his sheets for a long night's rest. Maybe being in the women's house was going to work out okay.
* - * - * - *
He awoke fairly early for a Sunday; he wasn't used to the sun streaming into the windows, and he was surprised to find himself erect for the second day in a row. It was surely a sign of ill health. The over-stimulation by the women on Friday was likely the culprit. He hoped he could get through a second day without further humiliation.
He grabbed his towel and toiletry bag, remembering the prescription of taking his robe. He kept his pajamas on while he made his way to the bathroom, first to eliminate and then for a much needed shower. He felt grimy, like he had sweated during the night, although he couldn't remember anything in particular to cause night sweats. His forehead was cool, so he wasn't getting sick. He hung the robe on the outside of the bathroom, saw it was empty and quickly stripped out of the PJs.
As he closed the door to the stall he heard someone else padding in. He hated eliminating with others in the room so he made sure to aim the stream at the side of the bowl to be more discrete. Before he had finished, he heard the shower running and the curtain being pulled closed.
He flushed and made his way to another shower.
"Is that you Chester?" It was Genielle.
"Yes," he said loud enough he hoped for her to hear but not so loud he would be heard outside in the hall.
"I thought so. No one else I know pees standing up around here. It's Sunday, yeah?" She poked her head out and looked at him. Her hair was filled with lather. He noticed her eyes scanning his body. It made him blush a little. "There you go again turning pink. Damn you're the pinkest person I've ever met. Anyway, it's Sunday. Sunday is my day to clean the showers. I was hoping you'd help me with that." She pulled her head back in and left him wondering what to do next.
He figured he might as well get started now. He opened the cleaning supplies closet they had pointed out to him Friday night and found what he hoped would be enough equipment: gloves, a scrub brush, and the cleaning fluid. He walked back to one of the empty showers turning on the water as he usually did to begin his washing routine.
"Hey, Chester! Watcha doing out there?"
"I was going to clean the showers, Genielle. I thought I'd get started on this one as you are already using that one."
"Forget that shit. I need to make sure you do it right. Get your little pink ass in here!"
