Long Story #2: Parlay and Pampers (P2)

According to the demon in white, the deal was a classic parlay: multiple bets rolled into one, with all victories needing to be satisfied for an ultimate win. With the vast surplus of chips he'd been given, he was told that to win, he would need to reach a certain threshold of earnings in the casino. He would need to make enough to not only cover for his debt, but to also pay back the chips he'd just been given. That was a scarily high number to reach, but when he thought about his earlier success in the casino, it felt manageable, especially whenever Ludwig had informed him that all winnings with the spectral chips would result in double payouts, and all losses would be halved. It would likely still take him all night, but with a boost like that, it'd be hard to not make easy money. If he succeeded, then his debt would be wiped, and he'd be allowed to keep any additional winnings for himself, meaning that a wealthy end was still within reach for the gambler. The side-bet with the diaper had come across as a joke, when compared to the far more intriguing first one. It wouldn't conclude until either the first bet had finished, or until he lost it by using the padded garment for its typically intended purpose. Chance had always had an ironclad bladder, and Ludwig offered to let him empty it before the wager began, so Chance had been confident in his chances. But what were the penalties of losing? For the first bet, losing would mean going into a tremendous amount of debt with the casino, and by Ludwig's stern words, it would mean becoming an employee until every penny had been repaid. Considering the average salary of anyone except the owner, he knew how that had the potential span years, if not outright decades. Losing the second bet was two-pronged, because it would mean losing the first bet automatically, and it would also come with a mysterious penalty that Ludwig had been intentionally vague on. From the serious tone in his voice, it'd at least been clear that it would be a severe cost to be burdened with. Still, there hadn't felt like there had been an alternative, and so he'd agreed to all the terms set before him. In the same flash of light as the chips had appeared, Chance's nice slacks had been transformed into a very bulky adult diaper. An assumption had come to his mind about the nature of the second bet, and that was the idea that it only existed to threaten his effectiveness with the first. By making him prance around in a pair of Pampers, like some giant toddler, it felt obvious that Ludwig hoped to keep his mind wandering away from the games he would be playing. Humiliation as a distraction. Chance had been mindful of that, and he'd had to keep telling himself what the endgame for him was; no matter how embarrassing the spectacle, he needed to keep his eyes on the prize. Who cared what everyone else thought? Let them laugh and jeer! Let them snicker and sneer! It would be him laughing in the end, all the way to the bank. The journey had gone well for much of its duration; he'd earned back over two-thirds of his debt's value, just by running on slots, roulette, and blackjack. Aside from the diaper, it became a simple night of drinking, smoking, and gambling. Until he'd hit the craps table. Oh, what sweet irony? On the gigantic bet that would free him from financial ruin, playing craps, he would then go forth and make the worst gamble of the night. That was when Chance had gambled on the fart, just as the come-out roll had commenced. It was so much worse in hindsight, whenever he'd peek through wet eyes to see that his roll had been a win, and if not for the heft of the diaper swinging like a pendulum between his naked thighs, he would have been free of his debt. Chance hadn't taken the diaper bet seriously, and it was what had ended up sinking him. There was no hiding it either, because as soon as he'd made a fool out of himself in the middle of the casino, it was as if Ludwig had been drawn to the scene like a moth to the flame. "Tough break, kid. Looks like you went bust! And speaking of, it looks like that thing is ready to bust too. That's a bad beat, isn't it? After how much I sweetened the pot for you. Looks like you tried to swing aces, didn't you? Hoping to roll that two on the bone, and you got more of a two than you bargained for." Ludwig's wit was all but lost on the despondent man before him; Chance stood there, simmering shit piled up against his backside, and with the cruel reality leveraged against him: he'd gone all or nothing, and he'd let it all ride on a damn fart, like some immature child. "Thems the breaks, eh? You seem like a nice kid though, and from the look of your chips, it looks to me that you would have been in the money if you'd been able to hold it another minute. So how about a little double-or-nothing? One last shot to shoot your wad? A final game, between the two of us." Was Ludwig really so magnanimous? So merciful? Or was he merely trying to squeeze as much out of a mark as he could? It didn't matter; Chance had no choice but to play on. "But first...Heads or tails? There's still the matter of paying up for the payload you have behind you." Chance had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he picked heads. Ludwig flipped a coin in the air and slapped it against the back of his hand. "Tails. Tough break, kid. Come on, let's go to my own personal table. We'll play some poker and settle things up." Confused yet complacent, Chance would follow the taller man, his loaded diaper causing his gait to bow out widely into the waddle of a tot. He needed a changing table more than a poker table right now, but he wasn't about to verbalize that. Luckily, he wouldn't have to. Once they arrived at the table in question, set in the back room, Ludwig only had to snap his fingers for the sagging diaper to be instantly replaced by a clean one. That didn't mean it would disappear into the ether entirely though, as it reappeared close-by on his chair, now balled-up as though he'd been properly changed, and seeming to be become like a curious cushion to sit upon. "What's the big idea?" He'd frowned, looking irked by the setup, and perhaps more than just a little disgusted by the implication of what was expected of him. "When you make a mess, you have to live with it. Consider it a reminder of how much you've already lost...An incentive to do better, by having to play while in the hot seat. If you like, I could always have you wearing it again instead?" Chance shook his head meekly, and with a cringe, he slowly sat his freshly padded rear down on the squishy booster, feeling the warmth radiating against him like sitting on a heated pad. The earthy fumes would slowly drift up, reminding him constantly of his humiliating failure. "So, just one on one? Not much of a poker game..." "I didn't lie when I said it would just be the two of us, but that doesn't mean only two chairs will be sat at." Before Chance could question what he meant by that, the man snapped again, and the other seven chairs suddenly had occupants. These weren't just any occupants though: four of them looked to be children, boys really, and the other three... They were him. Just like looking in a mirror, except for maybe very slight differences in the way they were dressed. Just like him, they all were diapered, though the difference in their seat's 'cushion' appeared to be split between wet and messy. "What the hell...?" "Just like I said. Only the two of us! Except there's a lot more of you to go around. As it turns out, you aren't just a loser in one timeline, but in several; by playing against all of you at once, I can save some precious time." All the other supernatural shenanigans had been peanuts compared to this; ghost chips and manifesting diapers were mere parlor tricks, at least when Ludwig was demonstrating some godlike power to span his influence across alternate realities. Chance blinked, suddenly thinking of a flaw in the statement. "W-wait, what about them? Why'd you put some little kids in the game?" "They chose tails, and in the spirit of honesty, you're actually joining this poker game quite late. Most of your other versions have already been playing for a few hands. Tails meant offering up your age as an ante, and as you can see, that's what they've been doing." Upon a closer look, Chance could confirm that these brats indeed resembled younger versions of himself, each at different stages of his development. "Wait, how have you already been playing? And what did calling heads mean? And while we're at it, how is this game supposed to even work?" Ludwig laughed and clasped his hands together. "Just like you can have different influences in different realities, so can I. The difference is that I can synchronize all those versions of myself into one unified form, if need be. The reflections of yourself that you see at the table, they're not technically in this reality with us right now; they're each still in their own, and just like you, they've already received all this information." Looking around, it hardly seemed like the other players had noticed an eighth member joining the table, as if he'd been there all along. None of them were reacting to Ludwig's speech either, as if they'd been paused in place. Before Chance could inquire about the consequences of choosing 'heads' again, the pit boss continued his explanation: "To all of them at the table, this game has been going on in the same way as it will for you. They get uniquely informed by their lovely host, without any overlap with the other timelines; every version of themselves, besides themselves of course, will be like projections from the other timelines. You won't be able to talk to one another casually, but you'll still be playing against one another. Only one of you can win." It was confusing enough to make his head spin, or maybe that was the dirty diaper stench that'd become more prominent with the other Chances now in the closed room? "...Wait, about choosing heads over tails..." "You'll find out soon enough, boy. If not firsthand, then all you'll need to do is to keep an eye on your opponents." "...And you'll be playing too?" He shook his head with a grin. "Afraid not. I'm the dealer, the house, and I think it'd be unfair to join in on the fun. You'll be only facing yourself." Ludwig wasn't offering a chance for himself to be the opponent in the fray, not in the least, he was only affording Chance an opportunity to be the version of himself that escaped unscathed. No matter who won here, there would be seven other losers, and every single one of those losers would be bearing his name and face. To win financial freedom, to escape his tremendous debt, he would have to come to terms with destroying himself. Aside from the moral complexities that provided him, there was also the matter of what it meant to cross swords in a mirror maze; he had the advantage of an intimate knowledge of his opponents, sure, but the same luxury was also one that they each had. How was he supposed to bluff against a table seated by carbon copies? The game soon begun, and the cards were dealt out for the first hand. Everyone put their ante up into the pot, each player's 'spectral' chips having a different color associated with them. As he'd expected, Chance was already seeing how troublesome it was to read the tells of his opponents, because it required a certain self-reflection that had never previously been necessary. As the first few hands went through, he started to recognize some differences in the others at the table. The younger versions of himself didn't just look smaller, but acted more childishly too, and they had a harder time hiding their expressions, which made their bluffs easier to recognize. Meanwhile, the other adult versions of himself, seemed to be a bit less...Focused. Chance didn't understand why at first, but after losing a few hands himself, he could feel a strange sensation in his head; his thoughts were becoming less clear, his strategies requiring a higher intensity of focus, as if his processing speed was slowing. Likewise, he noticed similar changes with the other players, whenever they themselves lost a hand. The younger ones were getting smaller and less adult, while the older ones were becoming more daft and less witty. These changes appeared to correspond with the chips that they would lose, which had the additional effect of increasing the attributes of those who won. If a 'little' Chance won a hand, then they would noticeably grow a little bit older; if a 'big' Chance one, then their intellect would shoot up higher. In only a handful of rounds, Chance came to the conclusion that the chips they had each been given were their way of wagering these attributes away, and depending on how they had earlier called the coin flip, that determined the nature of what they were betting. Heads bet their IQ points, and tails bet their years. That should have meant a great deal of advantage for Chance, since as Ludwig had noted, he was the last to join the game, and thus he'd lost the least amount of chips thus far. That would certainly have been the case too, if his luck wasn't turning out to be so lousy! He kept getting bad hands, and while it was easier to tell if the others were bluffing, due to their lowered traits, it also had meant that they were less likely to fold in the first place. To be young, that meant to be reckless and impulsive; to be dumb, that meant to be unable to give proper risk assessment. And so, he could feel the brainpower draining from his skull with each passing round; it was slow, but that was almost worse, because it made him painfully aware of what he was losing. Once some of his opponents began to run low on chips, the impact of their losses began to manifest in a more noticeable way, and they effectively lost the ability to bluff at all. Why was this case? Well, because they each gained an extremely easy tell. Starting with some of the little ones, and then happening with the larger ones too, there began to be a certain expulsion that rumbled from their deception. Some people would scratch their ear, some would rub their eye or tug on their sleeve, and these were all ways to know if they were full of shit. For his opponents? Things were becoming more literal. (Finished in the third post)