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[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home. 

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family.  Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited. 

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance. 

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you. 

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled. 

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing. 

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside. 

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another. 

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking. 

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained. 

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder. 

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"  

You had to nod. 

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money. 

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours. 

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough. 

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides. 

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting. 

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected. 

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of. 

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated. 

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it? 

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?" 

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine. 

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding. 

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door. 

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers. 

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back. 

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled. 

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet. 

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully. 

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again. 

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat. 

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking. 

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered. 

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain." 

"What happens should I stay?" 

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest." 

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor. 

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned. 

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.  

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended. 

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived. 

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you. 

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm. 

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too. 

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips. 

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

 You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances. 

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now. 

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on. 

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks." 

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.  

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before. 

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while. 

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean? 

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh. 

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events. 

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours. 

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection. 

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door. 

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

 Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering. 

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings. 

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move. 

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all. 

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's. 

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why. 

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing. 

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place. 

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution. 

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position. 

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear. 

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side."  You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you. 

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one." 

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command. 

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it. 

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."  

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him. 

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach. 

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things. 

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door. 

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along. 

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

[dailyadventureprompts]

Apropos of nothing, what do you think of money in tabletop? I’m interested in the very different ways people will pay for things, but I always go back to the old “gold/silver/copper” standard even though there’s a lot more interesting ways to set up an internal currency. Or to put it in a less asinine way, how does Dapper balance fluff vs crunch, and what are your thoughts on the two? I often seesaw between two extremes.

Heya!

Funnily enough I'm in a very interesting place regarding this: Medieval trade and economics was my bag during uni so I have a LOT to say about the worldbuilding of money and financial systems and how they cross with gameplay. I actually have been writing about this in a few different places including: Generating Better Loot and Managing the party's cash and wealth as two different mechanics

The main problem with adding too much "fluff" to monetary matters in d&d is that GP is fundamentally baked into the game's systems, and no party is going to want to sit around playing with currency conversions while there's actual adventure to be had. I've run into this problem plenty of times when I try to convince my party to go with a more realistic silver-piece standard and have had to convert everything from the books over to it. It's far easier to go with GP and just leave most of the details up to flavor.

That said, there' some very interesting things you can pull as story beats that let you show how emerging financial matters concern your heroes.

As the party moves from the adventure filled wilderness to the imperial core, they discover that the capital's markets will only accept imperial coin, forcing them to get their money exchanged and taking a 20% bite out of their hard earned wealth stores. Fucking with their loot gets your party resentful against the evil empire without having to jump straight to authoritarian genocide.

Among their many other crimes, the local bandits have have been on the hunt for silver to fund their counterfeiting operation after making an alliance with a shady transmuter who's managed to copy the royal coinpress. When the party eventually come knocking on the bandit's door, they'll eventually find a small fortune in counterfeit coins waiting to be spent, which just might get them in trouble with the law.

There's a manhunt out for an alchemist who's developed a process for making gold indistinguishable from that pulled from the earth and undetectable by magic, putting the fortunes of banks, kingdoms, and merchants into jeopardy. While she mainly did it following the directives of her patron and her own scientific curiosity, the powers that be argue that unless she's slain and the knowledge she holds stricken from the earth all of their holdings teeter on the edge of market collapse.

[debu-neko-kun]

Weighty Wager

Crossposting this here, a story I wrote a little bit ago! Contains: XWG of the male variety, magic weight gain, gay boyes as always, fun fetish stuff. Viewer beware, you’re in for a... I dunno, have a good time. :3

Jesse whistled to himself as he fumbled with the wads of cash in his pockets, turning the tight rolls of paper currency between his fingers. He strolled by mahjong parlors and poker dens, smoky clubs crawling with their usual suspects and public gambling halls flooded with tourists looking to make it big in the entertainment district. There was comfort in the flashing lights, the gaudy music, the lucky cheers, the unlucky cursing; this was a place where both sides of the coin were visible at once. Thankfully, he’d always been on the up and up here, lady luck kissing his cheek every time he rolled. Didn’t matter what game he played, he won all the same. Jesse supposed it had always been like that; ever since he was a kid playing old maid with the seniors on the corner, he’d just been winning. Born like that, maybe; entering the world on a perpetual up. 

Didn’t matter, the whys and the hows, only that it just kept happening; he loved the complimentary drinks, the complimentary suits, the complimentary penthouse rooms, the complimentary lovers… hell, maybe it was just the luck again, but it seemed like the more money he made, the less he had to spend. But spend he did: manicures, private gyms with personal trainers, hundreds on haircuts and thousands on jewelry. Cars and planes, glitz and glamor… but there was only one thing that made him happy, and that was the thrill of the game. There wasn’t a single gambling hall in this whole city that he hadn’t visited, no game left un-dominated, no prize un-won… that was, until yesterday. 

Nobody could tell him when it was built, who owned the place, or even what games were played there. He didn’t notice any construction on the lot in the weeks prior; it was like it had suddenly appeared, bloomed from the ground into a grand temple of tempting chance on the very edge of the district. 

 The Devil’s Deal… Jesse stared up at the smiling cartoonish devil that loomed over him, the sign all lit up with ember-red swirling letters. Suddenly noticing the encompassing quiet, he looked around, realizing that the street around the building was decidedly empty and lit only in the red of the sign. 

The only sound came from beyond the doors, a piano number he couldn’t quite make out. Tears formed at the edges of his dark green eyes as he stared into the dark glass of the doors, and took a moment to breathe; what was he so spooked about? Slow, quiet night just meant fewer people to crowd him once he started really raking in the cash; he smoothed back the stylish swoop in his chestnut hair, settled his pocket watch chain, adjusted the dark waistcoat on his toned, muscular torso, and pulled on the ornate brass handle of the glossy black doors. 

At once, he was overwhelmed by the decor of the place: everything was new and pristine, but looked plucked straight out of an earlier age. Red velvet flooring, big purple curtains hanging down from a tall vaulted ceiling, chandeliers sparkling with a thousand tiny glass gems. Deep, dark wood comprised the paneling of the walls, swirling into intricate patterns at the two archways he could see ahead of him; one arch, further ahead and to his right, had a large sign above it, announcing the “Dining Room” in large gold letters. The wide wood doors were shut; just as well, he thought, wandering deeper into the building; he was hardly hungry, stomach too tightened by the prospect of the games that awaited. 

He wandered up to a large, marble counter, large barred windows built into it peering into a room beyond. This was clearly the chip exchange counter, but where was the attendant? The clinking of a glass drew his attention to the bar at the back of the room, where a bartender busied himself mixing up drinks for the only other occupant in the room besides Jesse-- a young man, seemingly slightly younger than Jesse himself, perhaps 21 or 22, sat with his elbows on the bar. Like Jesse, he was dressed well, his coat hanging on the back of his chair leaving him in dark slacks and a nice white button-up shirt. 

Realizing there wouldn’t be anyone else to help him, Jesse wandered toward the bar, passing by well-spaced slot machines-- all themed on the seven deadly sins-- that were situated in front of odd-shaped stools; the seats were large, almost like tables, and lower to the ground than normal high stools. Probably for elderly tourists, he thought, or the sort of fatties looking to spend a few minutes at the machines before spending a few hours at the buffets. And yet, this didn’t seem like the sort of place that catered to the casual wayward gambler. Hell, it didn’t even look public, more in line with what he saw at flashy invite-only locales. 

“Oh, good evening, my good sir!” the bartender smiled warmly, setting the young man’s drink on the bar, wiping his chubby hands with a small towel. “The name’s Bacchus; what can I get you?” 

“Jesse. And some chips would be nice.” Jesse said, gesturing back towards the counter. 

“Ah, food is served in the dining hall-” he began, but stopped himself with a little chuckle that sent his soft belly bouncing. “Oh! You mean for the games; many apologies, but Kharon is measuring winnings in the back at the moment. He should return any minute-- you can wait here with a drink, if you’d like. On the house.” 

“None for me, thanks; not before I play.” Jesse waved him off, but the bartender waved him forward. 

“Doesn’t have to be alcoholic; come on, I’ll mix you up something tasty for the wait.” 

Jesse paused, glancing back towards the counter, and finally approached the bar with a little sigh. He sat next to the young man, the two seats-- like the seats at the slot machines-- were wide enough that it wasn’t awkwardly close.

“Oh, another one! I was starting to think I was the only person here.” the young man spoke, words rolling off his tongue in a friendly french lilt. His blue eyes sparkled even under the warm light of the bar. “I’m Claude. Claude Benoit. Lovely place, is it not?” 

“It’s certainly something.” Jesse said, leaning against the bar. A moment of quiet passed, and Claude spoke again. 

“So, did you get an invite too?” he asked. “I was surprised they’d send me one so far away; perhaps my exploits in Paris precede me.” he giggled, his soft, wavy blonde hair bouncing. 

“So it is by invite only, then.” Jesse began, letting out a sigh. “Better beat it before security kicks my ass-”

“Oh, nonsense; the invitations were only to add some excitement to the grand opening.” the bartender spoke, rolling ice back and forth in two silver containers, deep red liquid flowing over and over between the two. “Attract a handful of the luckiest the world has to offer, give them first dibs on chancing fate. But of course, the doors are open to all; besides, you seem like just the sort that should be here.” 

“I do alright for myself.” he shrugged, but Claude scooted in close. 

“Aha! Not merely a casual player; you live life on chance too, a man after my own heart!” he laughed, propping his head up on his hands with an expression like a smitten lover. “Tell me, what’s your fancy? Poker, slots…?” 

“Blackjack. Err, twenty-one, as some people say.” Jesse said. 

“Aha, cards! Lovely, lovely; my fortune passed to me from poker tables, but blackjack is near to my heart as well. Though, I do enjoy the simplicity of these electronic games; just push a button or pull a lever, and luck is dispensed! Or, well, not dispensed, I suppose.” 

 Bacchus placed a short, pink glass on the bar in front of Jesse, who listened on to Claude’s enthusiastic rambling about the various types of gambling machines in his home city. Jesse picked up the beverage, sipped it; the fresh taste of strawberry nectar filled his mouth, washing down his throat in a waterfall of frosty, sugary sweetness. 

“Oh, that Kharon sure is taking a long while, no?” Claude whined, looking around at the slot machines. “I’m so eager to give these a spin…” 

Before Jesse could respond, the double doors at the back of the building rushed open, their heavy wood settling against the walls with an impressively deep thump. A man stepped out from the room beyond, pale hands clasped politely together. A Dealer, from the looks of him; he was simply dressed, in matching onyx-black slacks and waistcoat, with a burgundy tie that stood like blood on marble against his pure white shirt. 

“Gentleman,” he regarded Claude and Jesse, his pale blue eyes unblinkingly moving from man to man. He seemed to Jesse a young ghost in the dim light, stark white hair combed neatly and flesh as smooth and uncorrupted as a coroner’s subject. “Allow me to extend an invitation to the VIP lounge as our guests of honor for the evening.” Claude gripped his half-empty drink, eyes opening wide. "Tu te moques de moi? I-I mean, surely you jest! We’re the only ones here, and haven’t even had a chance to play; hardly very important, no?”

The ghostly Dealer simply smiled. “An opportunity to become very important. We’d like to offer you both the chance to play against the house; our game for the evening will be twenty-one, with yours truly dealing.”

Jesse straightened up in his seat, leaning towards the Dealer now. “Twenty-one, you say? Color me interested… but it’s like my friend here said, we haven’t even had a chance to buy chips yet.”

“A small sum will be provided for the purposes of the game. Call it an incentive to join me. You’ll only need to repay what you lose if you lose a bet beyond the summation of the pool. But something tells me you won’t have that issue.” 

Jesse nodded, and pushed himself off the bar to a stand. “Alright… you have yourself a deal.” 

“Splendid! Will your friend be joining us?” 

Claude, rosy cheeked and looking bashfully through the bottom of his glass, quickly set it down and wiped his soft lips. “Non, non; you must pardon me, sir, for your invitation is gracious, but I’m afraid I can’t touch cards after I've had a drink. I’d like to stick to the machines; binary bets treat me better when my belly is warm, aha. You two go ahead, play away; I shall await this Kharon and have my fun out here.”

“As you wish.” the Dealer nodded, smile never falling from his pale pink lips. “Sir? If you’ll follow me.” 

 Jesse stepped away, leaving the half-drunk boy in the company of the bartender. 

“Win big, yes?” Claude called after him, his joyous laugh bouncing around the room. 

“You bet.” Jesse spoke to himself as he entered the VIP area. It was more of the same classically-styled furnishings, only here they seemed of an even-finer caliber; long, deep-set booths of deep red cherry and purple velvet arranged against the walls, thickly padded wingback chairs of similarly substantially-disproportionate depth and width arranged around green-furred tables. Serving carts with several tiers were arranged at the ready by the booths, seemingly prepared to serve many gamblers wine and steak to keep them playing. But for now, the room was empty, save for Jesse and the Dealer. 

Jesse turned in time to see the Dealer shutting the double doors. Through the gap between the rapidly closing doors, he could see a man step up to the counter-- the elusive Kharon, maybe-- and give him a knowing smile. And then, the doors were closed, and the Dealer was gesturing to a chair in the middle of the room. 

“If you’d like to have a seat there, I’ll begin by explaining the rules of this evening’s event.”

Jesse did as he was told, swinging his arms to loosen his shoulders as though he were a baseball player stepping up to bat, and sat down at the chair. It was like resting on a velveteen pillow, though it was perhaps ill-fit for somebody of his size; he was no slender waif, shoulders and biceps broadened by his excess free-time spent at the gym sculpting his body just shy of muscular formidability, and yet he felt like a child in a recliner. Too wide to be a chair, yet just shy of a love-seat… Jesse shrugged off the strange taste in furniture and sat cross-legged on the seat, as silly as it made him feel. The Dealer sat on a simple wooden stool across from him, though properly sized for his slender build. 

“Now then.” the Dealer spoke, drawing a wooden box from the edge of the table towards him. The lid was designed with a carved wooden tree, each branching bowing under the weight of many ornately-designed fruits. It seemed there were multiple round shapes reaching what appeared to be swollen limbs up towards the fruits, but Jesse couldn’t quite make them out. The Dealer placed his hands over the lid, and folded the sides out like a book; inside the velvet lined box, a deck of cards, elegantly gold-leafed on their backs, looking freshly made and never-before-touched, despite the antique quality of the box they were housed in. 

“For your inspection,” the Dealer spoke, raising the deck from the box and placing them before Jesse. “So you understand, win or lose, it’s only chance that decides the hand you receive.” 

Thumbing through the cards, Jesse took the time to peruse the designs imprinted on them. They were seemingly hand-painted, each portraying unique representations of the face cards; the king seemed more princely, youthful with a cocky grin on his sharply feminine face, eyes painted gold. The jack was painted with the figure of a knight, imposingly muscular, black hair flowing down to his broad shoulders and framing a proudly serious expression. He expected one figure for the queen, but instead there were two figures painted together, holding a box with the suit inscribed upon it between them: a woman with dark brown skin dressed in silk finery, and a bronze-fleshed man, shirtless, gold piercings on his chest and ears. The numbered cards were simply numbers, the aces simply aces. 

“Satisfactory?” the Dealer asked, extending his hand toward him. Jesse nodded, placing it in his hand, feeling for a moment the intense heat radiating off of his palm. It made him shiver, this warmth; he loosened his shirt collar, undoing the top button. 

“Excellent.” the Dealer smiled, beginning to shuffle the cards. “The rules are simple; there will be five rounds, and each round begins with a bet. The maximum for each player will be 200: I will provide this first pool to you. Try not to lose it all at once.” he chuckled, though whether it was to himself or for Jesse, he couldn’t tell. “To make things more interesting, I’ll have free reign to bet as I please, not merely a match of your own amount. Once this is finalized, each player will be dealt two cards, one face up and one face down. You may choose to hit or stand. Whichever hand is closest to 21 without going over at the end of the round wins. If you go over-”

“You lose. Don’t worry, I’ve played before.” Jesse said. 

“So you have. Wonderful; now, your prize for joining me.”

The Dealer reached under the table, dispensing chips from an unseen dispenser, placing twenty chips in two neat stacks in front of him. Each chip was black, seemingly made of shiny volcanic stone, and had a gold “10” etched on the face of each one. “200 actual dollars? That’s generous.” “Pounds, sir.” The Dealer corrected. “Makes things interesting. They’ll be converted at the end of each round, and you can surrender your tokens to the front desk before you leave.” 

“British? Huh.” “I hail from the marshes of England, but have not been in many years.” the Dealer said, and simply smiled. 

“Well… alright then.” Jesse shrugged, and placed one token in front of himself. “Deal me in.” 

“Testing the waters, I see. Very well.” the Dealer nodded, and reciprocated with one token of his own. “The current total bet is twenty.”

With graceful movements, the Dealer carefully placed two exposed cards in front of Jesse, and then two in front of himself with one hidden, face down. The Dealer held a three; Jesse’s hand consisted of a nine and a king, the pretty face of the painted gentleman staring up at him in his eternal smile. And there it is: the feeling of the scales tipping in his favor once again, like waking up to sunlight on his skin. 

“I’ll stay.” he spoke, looking intently at the Dealer’s hand. The Dealer turned over his own card, revealing a ten. He drew one more… and drew another ten. 

“And that’s a bust. The winnings are yours.”

Jesse always told himself he’d never do drugs, since he already knew nothing would compare to this: nothing else in the world made him happier than a win. And yet, as the two tokens passed the threshold from the betting zone on the table to his own little square, he couldn’t help but notice a strange tingling sensation welling up in his abdomen. It was like goosebumps, only deeper; a momentary tingle that echoed through his core and abated rapidly to nothing. He adjusted his waistcoat, undoing the top button, and fiddled with his belt.

“Is something the matter, sir?” the Dealer smiled, hands folded patiently on the deck of cards. 

“No, it’s nothing. Just had too big of a lunch, I guess.” Jesse said, settling back into his seat casually, brushing away the odd sensation.

“Then we shall commence the second round. If you’ll place your bet, please.” 

Jesse took a deep breath, rubbed his smooth cheek in contemplation… and then pushed the entire pile of tokens forward. “All in.” 

“My my…” the Dealer grinned, and similarly pushed his entire pile forward. “Go big or go home, eh?” The way he hovered on the “or” sent a strange tingle down Jesse’s back. 

“The total bet is currently 400 pounds. Dealing will begin.”

Same as before, the cards were dealt. And same as before, the endorphin rush of risk flooded his system, sending his heart thumping like nightclub bass. Jesse watched the ten be placed, and then the ace; another easy win passed unto him by the gods of luck, he thought with a grin, whoever they may be.

“And that’s blackjack. Goodness, you weren’t kidding, you’re quite good at this game. That’s 400 big ones for you, my lucky friend.” 

“Well, what can I say.” Jesse responded coolly, reaching out to scoop up the whole pile of tokens. And as they plinked together on their way towards him, the odd sensation in his middle returned, rippling out beneath his flesh like a warm tidal wave. It overwhelmed; he let go of the chips, pushing himself back into the chair to keep himself from slumping forward. 

“Wha…?” he slurred, holding his hands out in front of himself, wondering if he’d see his very flesh melting from his muscle, for that was the sensation that throbbed beneath every pore on his body. Not pain, far from it; a sudden and all-consuming relaxation, like being dunked into a pool of warm honey. 

Drugged… he had to be, for why else did it seem like his hands were changing before his very eyes? The definition of the slender bones in his hands blurred, then vanished. The gaps between his fingers began to close, flesh rose to swallow his wrists; a pinch at his middle drew his eyes down and away, sending his head reeling at the sight below. 

A belly, fat and saggy, rose in a buttery swell of flesh beneath his waistcoat, forcing his shirt tails out of his too-tight pants. A muffin top had already formed where once there were tight abs, starting to dip down towards thighs that pulled the fabric skin-tight around them. He dreamily moved his head to both sides of his body, watching rolls form beneath his swelling tits, pushing his shirt to his limits; his ass blobbed out to either side of him like pizza dough pressed in slacks, making the oversized chair seem ever closer to a “normal” size. 

“What’s happening to me?...” he huffed in horror, mind still stuck between dull panic and stubborn disbelief. 

“Your winnings are being transferred. It should only take a moment.” the Dealer spoke, that same calm smile never leaving his lips. He began to dispense more tokens, slowly setting them out in front of himself one by one. 

“No… no, this can’t be real…” Jesse muttered, his voice foreign to himself, broadcasted from plump lips, chubby cheeks and a chest swaddled in lard. 

“I assure you, it’s all real. Every pound, all 400… we’d never cheat an honest winner. Now, are you ready for round three?” Jesse ignored the Dealer, struggling to stand. He rocked forward, belly rolls bunching together beneath his shirt, busting a trio of buttons from his waistcoat and ripping a seam down the seat of his pants. Everything jiggled as he dropped the inch to the floor, from his rounded neck to his pudding bag thighs. God, he was so heavy… just standing was an alien sensation, the perpetually added mass of his curvaceous front and thick back forcing him to recalculate his stance. Shakily, he took a step with his jiggly arms out ahead of him like he was wading through waist-high water, seams popping and ripping here and there in a cacophony of cloth catastrophe with every movement. If he could just get outside, get some help…

Sweat from a mix of exertion and fear dripped down his cheeks, landing on his chest. Beads formed on his perky pink nipples, which he realized-- with no small shame-- were attached to two bulky bags of milk and lard that obscured the view of the gut that he knew was still getting larger by the way it slapped his thighs lower and lower. One step, two step, one waddle, two waddle, jiggle, grow… at last, with great effort, he reached a saggy arm out towards the door, grasped the handle… 

...and found the door stuck tight. 

“Now now, my lucky friend,” the Dealer spoke, placing one card in front of himself, and one in front of Jesse’s chair. “It’s quite healthy to get up and stretch your legs after a few games, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t wander too far. After all, we still have four rounds left.” 

“No… no more… let me go...” he panted, leaning against the door. He expected it to creak and pop against his immense weight, but it held steady as stone. His gut spread out against the cool surface, offering a small respite for his misty flesh. At least it felt like the growth was slowing… and yet it didn’t make him feel much better. 400 pounds… and combined with his early win of 20, that would put him somewhere in the ballpark of 600 heavy, heavy pounds.

“I’m afraid quitting isn’t an option now. You agreed to five complete rounds, and five complete rounds we’ll play. The devil’s in the details.” he chuckled, a laugh of many voices. “To run with your earnings now would be cheating. You wouldn’t want me to accuse you of cheating, now would you?...” 

The Dealer glanced back over his shoulder toward Jesse, his eyes burning with a fiery orange light, like molten gold. His smile widened, revealing sharp silver teeth like knife tips. 

“I’d suggest you have a seat now, Jesse Ward. Allow me to help.” 

Jesse yelped as a strange force wrapped around his midsection, like a giant invisible hand that plucked him from the ground, carried him through the air, and placed his considerable girth back in the chair. Where it had seemed like a loveseat before, the sides of the chair gently pressed into the swell of his butt, though it was simple fright that held him there. 

“Splendid. Betting has begun.” 

The words caught in his head, jammed by recurring waves of fresh panic. What could he do? Just play? 

 “What are you?” he blurted, gripping the chair arms tight to stop his wobbly trembling. 

“Why don’t we talk while we play? Place your bet, please.” he smiled, hands clasped together in front of himself as if in unholy prayer. His breaths exuded steam now; whatever facade he held before was slowly failing, dripping off like a wax mask. 

Jesse looked at the pile of chips in front of him, their awful weight unbearable. He could hardly stand to touch them, but with no way around it, he slowly reached out and pushed a single chip forward. 

“Aha! Hardly giving me a chance to win it back, are you? Ah well, I’m feeling pretty good about this one, so I’ll take it upon myself to make this interesting…” 

The chips slowly floated up one by one from their rows, all twenty of them, settling down in a spiral formation around the single chip. 

“The bet is now 210. The game is now afoot; good luck, my girthy gambler.”

The Dealer placed another card ahead of himself. As he reached across the table, card in hand, Jesse mustered up the courage to ask again. 

“What are you?”

“Oh, dear Jesse, that might be playing my hand too early… but perhaps it’s obvious by my poker face?” he giggled, the sound sending a chill down his spine. “From an underworld, a place that man finds himself from time to time since time began. I… simply found my way to the realm of man instead. It’s a goldrush up here; all sorts of fun can be had with all of these delightfully mortal wants and desires.” 

The Dealer set the card in front of Jesse. A jack, with the picture of the knight, but the picture had changed; the once imposing knight had been rendered round as a pumpkin, gut bursting forth from his armor, tired expression painted on a face softened into round, feminine features. The discomforting card brought his total to 15. 

“So… why this? Are you going to take my… my soul?” Jesse whispered the last part, thinking of all of the faustian tales he’d heard since he was a child.   

“Not unless it’s on the table, my dear; I’m simply offering what every gambler wants in the end. I want to see the desires of men and women taken to the extreme, but unlike some others, I don’t want anyone to bargain for it. For what do mortals have that I don’t? No, I want people to play for it… a chance at excess.” 

The word rolled from his tongue in a cloud of hot steam that set a fresh wave of perspiration over Jesse’s belly. Jesse shuddered; was he telling the truth, or was this another veiled trick? Though, he hadn’t lied to him yet, just obscured the details to this terrible game... as important as they were. He was playing fairly… which gave him an idea. 

The Dealer held his hand out, palm up. “And speaking of… your move.”

��Stay. I’ll stay.” Jesse spoke quickly. 

“If you’re sure…” the Dealer said, turning over his cards to reveal a 7 and a 2. He drew one more, pulled a four, and drew another, turning it over. 

“No…” Jesse whispered, heart sinking fast. The king of hearts. He had drawn a king of hearts, the princely man on the card drawn morbidly obese, maybe fatter than Jesse-- it was hard to tell how tall he was in the portrait, but he certainly seemed wider-- with a look of hunger in his eyes that mocked him. 

“Don’t look so down, Jesse: that’s a bust for me. I’ve lost. Which means you won! My, how truly lucky you are.”

The spiral of chips began to float again, lining themselves up ahead of him. Tauntingly, they hopped, bounced off his gut, and landed with the other earnings, each thump adding another ten pounds to his frame. Thump, grow, thump, grow… he could feel the pounds pouring into him like melted butter in a latex balloon, belly sagging towards his shins like a lardy volcanic flow. 

“I’m so big…” he whined, gripping his breasts as if to hold them back. And yet, they simply sagged between his fingers, growing fatter and rounder, pancakes of side-roll fat forming beneath them that reached around to his sagging rolls of his back. His shirt began to pull itself apart, jiggling water wing arms growing far too big for any fabric to contain them, broad shoulders ripping it down the back. 

“Some might start to think your game was more strip poker than blackjack if they saw you in such a state as this, Jesse.” the Dealer tittered, watching him grow fatter still.

 Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen; the chips continued their little trapeze act, and he his growing one. His arms, uselessly laid on his belly, rose up higher as his upper belly roll rose like so much pizza dough. His hips flared out tremendously wide, the swell of his buttcheeks below pushing into the sides of the chair, wedging him in like a titanic loaf of bread in a pan. The last chip bounced off his belly, adding a third rolly chin to his face, and bringing his earnings--and added weight-- to 630.

“Huff… ha…” he panted through bloated lips pushed together by his obscenely fattened face.

“You know, in the early days of my residence in this world, weight was a signifier of wealth. I’d dare say kings might be envious of your current heft… and perhaps a prince or two, but perhaps only because they’d still be small enough to wiggle a toe or two. Oh, the fun I’d have with royalty, aha!” 

The Dealer’s eyes glowed brighter, thin rivulets of gold dripping out to gild his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice, or else didn’t much care; he simply cued up another selection of the cursed chips, providing a twenty-second countdown to the next round. 

I can’t take much more of this… I’m fatter than a cow, fatter than a hippo, fatter than… fat! It’s all so heavy… every part of me is so full, so soft, so wobbly… if I go over my weight any more, I’ll never be able to walk again. There must be a way to lose… Think, dammit, think!

“Round four will begin shortly… please, place your bets.” the Dealer smiled, snapping Jesse back to reality. Once again, Jesse reached out-- with some added difficulty, struggling at leaning his bulky body close enough to get his flabby arm to the table-- to push a single chip forward.

“That’s just a show of poor sportsmanship, Jesse… you’re truly lucky I’m here to raise the stakes.” the Dealer hissed, shoving all of his chips forward again. “The bet is now 210. Round four has begun.” 

Jesse watched with exhausted anticipation as the cards were placed one by one. A seven and a two… at least it’s not an instant win. It felt strange pushing back against luck; wrong, even, to force a loss. But if he wanted to walk out of here…

“Hit.” he nodded, feeling the roll of his neck bunch up like a blubbery donut as he did so. Another card was placed; a three. 

“Hit.” he said again, heart thumping between his mammoth breasts. Another card; another two. 

“Hmm… pushing your luck, eh?” the Dealer grinned. 

“Come on… hit me.” Jesse spoke, voice trembling. This was it; he just had to go over. Just one more card…

“And another seven. That’s-” 

Impossible…

“Blackjack. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand to try and win against you, but I have to say: I’m having a ton of fun.”

“T-That can’t be! You… you have to be cheating!” 

“Cheating?” the Dealer laughed, the sound throaty and indignant. “But you’re the one who’s always winning. No, dear Jesse… lady luck just won’t leave your side. Now, your winnings…” 

 “Wait, j-just hold on-”

Jesse raised his hands in protest, hoping to block the slowly levitating chips from adding to his pile, but he couldn’t get close enough to reach; his fat belly pushed into the sturdy table, limiting him to futile swats at the approaching chips. 

*Guuuurble…*

His gut groaned ominously as the chips transferred into his pile at a slow, methodical pace, the Dealer savoring the show beyond the expanse of green felt. At the third chip, whatever scraps of clothing that remained on his body tore free, slipping off his misty flesh and down to the floor. Even his underwear, stretchy and pulled tight between his cheeks like a cheap g-string, utterly failed with a perceptible snap that sent his butt jiggling. 

Bigger, bigger… at 900 lbs, he was already the fattest person he had ever seen by a long shot, and still he was getting bigger. His fingers swelled into little sausages, fat hands dimpling into buttery mitts, wrists melding into fat forearms that in turn melted into fat arms that sagged against his buttery under-tit rolls even if he raised them as far as they could go-- which wasn’t very far. His breasts spilled out against his belly in two overly-full swells, udders that would make even the chestiest supermodel green with envy. His nipples ached; he felt like a proper cow, ready to be relieved of his milk… it was quickly becoming obvious that this place was shaping him, molding him beyond a simple addition of weight, turning him into the definition of overindulgent plenty.

 The chair beneath his form had seemed so big before, and now he was practically bursting out of it, back fat oozing around the backrest, belly rolls creeping up over the sides, butt pushing up beneath them to further consume the arm rests. The titanic, churning belly at his front spilled far past his knees, creeping forward like a massive melting yoga ball, eating up his playable space on the table in front of him. Even his face swelled into obscenely round shapes, cheeks melding directly into his fat neck, jawline utterly missing with only the barest dimple commemorating his first of three rolly chins; if anyone saw him now, he doubted they’d have even a hint at who he was-- who he used to be.  

“Mm, getting rich there… and I’m not just talking about your milk.” the Dealer chuckled, followed by a surge of growth in Jesse’s chest that pushed him up another cup size or three… if they even made bras that big. Jesse simply groaned as the last eighty pounds surged into his body in tens like kinks in a hose of cream, pushing every swollen roll just a little bigger, weighing him down just a little more until it finally stopped, leaving him as a half-ton pile of defeated fat rolls. 

“Well, it seems we’re at the final round. I’m sad to see it come to an end… but I saved the best for last.”

Jesse looked over his cleavage, holding his breasts like a massive fertility idol just to keep the sensitive blubber from rubbing against his belly too much with each heavy breath. He watched as the Dealer withdrew a single solid gold token from below the table, this one inscribed with a deep-set ‘500’. 

“The final round will be a high-stakes game. The maximum bet for this round has been raised to 500… with a minimum bet of 500.”

“Buh… But if I win…” Jesse panted, still awash with the strange sensations that overwhelmed him after the last growth spurt. Things tingled and sloshed and wobbled at nearly every roll and crevice of his wide, wide body, sending him flushing and fidgeting in his chair. 

“You’ll be more than 1900 pounds richer than when you started… in both pocket and body, aha.” The Dealer chuckled, the sound like sharp rocks falling down a mountain. 

“I… I can’t…” Jesse huffed, fat hands pressed to the curve of his sloshing gut.“I’m big… too big…to reach…I can’t play.” 

“Nonsense, my porcine player! I’ll appoint you some attendants; they’ll be more than willing to help you out.” 

A draft like an open oven rolled across Jesse’s sweating backrolls, and just as quickly diminished into nothing. He tried to look for the source of the sudden heat, but found the range of his vision was greatly reduced by the new addition of flushed saddlebag cheeks and the neck roll that bulged up towards his soft brown hair. 

The answer didn’t take long to arrive, however; emerging from his left and right were two slender male forms, clad in identical latex booty shorts that clung tightly to their exaggerated hips. In fact, almost everything about them was identical; the same light blue flesh, the same bright, round white eyes surrounded by gothic black makeup, the same golden bars piercing their deep purple nipples, the same swirling black ram horns. 

“Aww, need some help, darling?” the incubus to his right purred, wrapping his slender arms around his bloated, hammy sack of a bicep, resting his smooth, alluringly pretty face against his shoulder. 

“Allow us to help… after all, there’s still *loads* of fun left to be had, ehehehe~” the incubus to his left responded in the same seductive tone, covering his black lips with his hand as he giggled to himself. 

“Now now, Cassy, Cress; do you gentlemen mind arranging things for our guest here? It’s our final hand of the evening… you can have all the fun you’d like in the dining hall once this game of ours is finished.” the Dealer spoke sternly, holding out two cards between his fingers towards them.

 “Aye aye, captain.” they spoke in unison; in one fluid moment, Cassy pushed the requisite chips from Jesse’s pile into the betting pool while Cress reached across the table to accept Jesse’s two cards, showing off his exaggerated bubble buns as he did so. He leaned back and gave a knowing smirk before placing the cards on Jesse’s soft belly. 

“A seven…” Cassy purred, rubbing the side of his gurgling gut in slow circles.

“...and a four.” Cress finished, rubbing his belly on the opposite side. If he wasn’t gripped by anxious fear, he might’ve admitted how good it felt… but the only thing he could focus on was the heart thumping behind his fat breast. 

“Aha, it seems we have similar hands; how interesting. And how will you proceed, Mr. Ward? Will you hit… or will you stay?” 

How, indeed. What could he do? 11 was a lucky hand; if he hit, he’d undoubtedly land a blackjack. If he stayed, the dealer could just bust and make him win anyway. He never lost; what options were there for a man who always wins? 

Unless…

The twin swells of his chest rose as he took a deep inhale, and let it out slowly.

“...I’ll stay.” 

The Dealer shrugged. “If you say so. Now then… my turn.”

A fat drop of sweat rolled down Jesse’s cheek as he watched the dealer place his finger on the deck, pulling one card slowly off the top. 

“Let the best man win, hmm?” he grinned, and flipped the card onto the table. His grin faltered, lips tightened into a thin line. 

On the table in front of him sat the portrait of the Queen and her lover, the two smooshed into the frame with a burger between them. They had sauce on their lips and chins and looked exhausted, as though they had been eating for days straight… and judging by what little of their blobby bodies Jess could see–mostly just their ballooned-up tits and fat faces–may not have been far from the truth. 

“...well. It appears I’ve won.”

“Depends on how you look at it…” Jesse threw him a look of smug self-satisfaction. “...’cause I was aiming to win my mobility. Looks like I really never lose, huh?” 

“Well played, sir. Well played indeed.” the Dealer spoke, curls of smoke drifting out of his nostrils. Cress and Cassy let out disappointed “awws” at the same time, shuffling dejectedly up to the table. From his chair-bound spot, Jesse could hear them muttering to themselves: “I wanted a new whale to play with; Angel’s totally gonna rub this in my face…”

“And he was so top heavy! Imagine how big his boobs would’ve gotten…” 

The clinking of chips permeated the air as the twin incubi re-sorted the chips to the proper piles. Almost immediately, Jesse could feel himself getting lighter, pound after pound vanishing from his frame. His belly moved back from the table, his breasts shrank; his side rolls diminished, and his backside became less mountainous. When he became small enough to unwedge himself from the chair, he immediately rolled his body to a standing position while he continued shrinking. It almost felt like he was approaching some kind of normal body shape… when the shrinking stopped. While smaller, he still looked like a pro sumo wrestler… or at least just a professional eater. His belly slapped down against rolly thighs, which wrapped around to equally wobbly buttcheeks. Oversized breasts, fat as cantaloupes and just as juicy, bounced against his chest. At least he could still walk… 

“Shame to see so much potential wasted, but alas… all good things must come to an end. Enjoy your winnings, Mr. Ward. Perhaps you could try your hand at another game while you’re here?” the Dealer called after him, framed by the two twink-ish twins. 

“Go to hell…” he huffed, shakily wobbling his naked bulk towards the door, jiggly arms outstretched like he was walking a tightrope. 

Jesse ignored the trio of laughter echoing out behind him as he pushed against the door, his bellybutton engulfing the doorknob as he tried his best to maneuver himself into a less awkward position to grab the handle. 

“Come on, Jesse, figure it out… get it open and you’re free. First stop, liposuction clinic, then I have to warn somebody before anybody else gets roped into one of these awful games-” 

His heart leapt when he finally found the doorknob. 

Claude.  

He was so wrapped in the whirlwind of a situation that he had forgotten about him, the pretty Frenchman from the bar; if he was still in the building, he could be in danger too! He hoped he could find him, warn him before it was too late, before he was taken for a wicked game and blown up into some kind of blimp…

The door flew open silently despite his impatient belly slam, sending him stumbling into the main room. There, standing across from the door, drink in hand, was Claude; his soft, manicured hand was just pushing a token into the slot machine in front of him.

“Claude… wait…” he huffed breathlessly, trying his best to awkwardly stomp forward in his unfamiliar new state. Just a bit further…

The blonde man took a lucky sip of his drink, steeling himself for the pull. He raised his hand, grasped the lever…

“No!...” 

In that moment, surrounded by sneering devils adorning the hall of slots in front of him, Jesse reached his hand out for Claude, wishing he could cover the last six feet and just yank him away; instead, his legs failed to support his speedy approach and he tripped. Panicked, Jesse let out a yelp and grabbed onto the closest machine to steady himself. The sound startled Claude, who lept out of his chair and dropped his drink with a strawberry splash. 

"Monsieur! T-Tu es nu!” he exclaimed in confusion, his cheeks flushing with astonished embarrassment. Just as Jesse was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Claude saw his swaying breasts and stepped back in a flustered daze, slipping on his spilled drink. He also caught himself with the bar of the machine, but this one lurched forward and sent the three wheels spinning. Suddenly, the handle unlocked under him, and his own machine also spun to life. 

“1 FREE PLAY!” the letters flashing above him exclaimed, sending a wave of dread through his expansive body.  

Jesse could only watch in shock as he watched the wheels spin, each one stopping with a loud thunk one after another, each displaying matching sixes. 

Across the room, behind a still-stunned Claude, his own machine displayed three matching symbols, these ones depicting donuts. 

“UNHOLY COMBO: SIX HUNDRED SIXTY SIX POUNDS AWARDED”

The machine cheerily announced the spine-chilling statement above Jesse, a rain of the cursed chips bouncing onto his back rolls. He groaned as he began to swell up again, belly raising him up off the floor as he filled right back up to his last colossal size at the table… and larger beyond. 

Behind Claude, a veritable fireworks show erupted from the machine, with jets of fire and dazzling sparkles shooting up into the air. Over the loudspeaker, a bright chime sounded, followed by an excited announcer proclaiming: 

“DAILY JACKPOT: THREE THOUSAND POUNDS AWARDED! ” 

“Claude… run!” Jesse puffed through pudgy cheeks pushed into his chest, but it was too late. Claude’s middle began to expand like a hose was pumping butter directly into his center, sending the frenchman into a shocked stupor. One by one the buttons popped off of his fine shirt, falling soundlessly to the carpeted floor. Pale breast flesh rapidly bulged through the gaps made by the remaining buttons before these two failed, his round, delicate breasts bouncing out. He grasped them in his hands as if to stop them from encroaching any further, but still they grew, going up a cup size every few fleeting seconds; as if to spite his efforts, his ass quickly took a surge of growth, blasting his pants off like cheap latex; his underwear band couldn’t handle the onslaught and tore free, leaving him nude from the waist down… not that you could see anything particularly naughty, so buried was his manhood in a pillowy fupa and covered with a belly hanging down in double-stacked rolls.

Jesse fared little better, groaning as his body slowly took on the pounds, spreading his flab like pancake batter on the floor. Even amongst the madness, he couldn’t help but be enraptured by the womanly form Claude was taking on, with his huge pink-nippled breasts that blobbed out towards his bellybutton paired– or should he say peared– with his double-wide hips and fat-packed asscheeks that sat wider than anything else on him. He looked like a statue of Venus, an image of fertility and abundance despite his male presentation, though perhaps even ancient sculptures would be hard pressed to capture his girth. Arms hung down like pale flags announcing his body’s surrender to the tide of fat flowing into him, and soon his thick calves began to wobble as he struggled to simply stay standing. 

Two demons in skimpy leather harnesses sauntered through the wide wooden doors leading to the dining hall, dragging a kind of chariot seat behind them; the width was considerable and it sat low, covered in deep purple cushions like some kind of pillow for a car-sized jewel. The only object of value here, however, was gaining pounds by the second, and so they wasted no time in positioning it behind Claude’s bare, sagging butt that sagged lower and blimped further outward to greet it. Just as he thought he might find his center of gravity, the two demons positioned themselves on either side of his lardbag arms and pulled him back, sending him falling back to the cushion. 

The impact sent him wobbling like a glob of jelly, his sweat-drenched rolls slapping meatily all across his body. He could feel his back-fat touch his ass as he continued to swell, larger and larger still; in the cushioned divot, he looked like dough in a pie tin, the overwhelming roundness of him moving out to fill every available space. 

“Hah… hah…” he panted, the sheer act of growing exhausting him; he felt like he was sinking into himself, and he practically was; his neck was engulfed in concentric rings of thick fat, and his cheeks bloated into blubbery watermelon-sized sacks on his face. He could see his cheeks encroaching into his vision, but mercifully the growth moved to the rest of his face too, softening his masculine features into buttery androgyny. 

Two more barely-dressed  male demons crept out of the dining hall, one sporting a pair of huge bubbly breasts, pierced nipples shining against the casino lights, while the other’s ass swallowed up his skimpy painted-on shorts. The bottom-heavy one carried what looked like a square board with wheels on it, made of some kind of dark wood and decorated with smooth gold. They moved to Jesse now, who had stopped growing by this point and was too focused on Claude to care about the demons at his sides. 

“Come on, big boy; can’t lay around forever.” the top-heavy demon spoke commandingly down to him with a grin, straddling his butt.

“Or maybe he can? Give him another spin.” the bottom heavy one giggled, hugging the wheeled board against his chest.

“Now now, that would be cheating… plenty of time for more games later, anyway. Ready?” 

The bottom heavy demon nodded, and the one straddling his ass leaned over, warm breasts pushing into his back fat, and hooked two muscular arms around his own sizable chest. He pulled up, and suddenly Jesse was lifted to a standing position. The bottom-heavy demon lifted his gargantuan belly and placed the rolling board beneath it, letting the mass plop back on top of it quickly after.

“There. Now you’re at least a little mobile… won’t take you quite so long to waddle that blubbery ass around, anyway.” the demon behind him chuckled, releasing him from his grasp. 

“Now then,” one of the lusty creatures spoke beside Claude, but the bottom-heavy one by Jesse continued, “why don’t we get to the dining hall? There’s plenty there for winners like yourselves..”

“All on the house, of course.”

“We’re sure you’re simply starving.”

“I know I could go for a bite… I’m always hungry for stuffed pig.” 

With this, the demons laughed, and began pulling Claude’s cart like horses on a carriage, moving him towards the doors. Jesse was pushed forward to follow behind, the wheel letting him rest forward on his gut to move, though he would’ve followed behind even if the demanding demons weren’t directing him. What else was there to do in hell but go deeper and see where it all leads?

He shuddered, expecting a huge oven, or perhaps pitchforks waiting for him on the other side of the doors, and as they passed into darkness his breath hitched– yet the darkness lessened as they walked, brightening slowly until they came to the end of a dim hall. Two more doors just as wide as the last opened by themselves, and the pair rolled into a huge, lavishly decorated room. It almost looked like a theater, with wide viewing boxes forming towers that surrounded a stage, more spaces in front of the stage allowing more up-close viewings of the performance. Moans low as whales and high as birdsong yet no less passionate emanated from the boxes, putting images of the passions the audience engaged in in Jesse’s mind. And as Claude and Jesse were moved to the ramps on both sides of the stage, they came to the collective realization that *they* were this evening’s show. 

“Lardies and jellyman, tonight’s special show…” a voice from above spoke, booming yet smooth and melodic, “winners that just keep winning. And my, how they’ve won big tonight…” 

 Claude’s cart stopped in the spotlight shining in the middle of the stage, Jesse set next to him. They exchanged tired glances as the quad of demons disappeared behind the stage curtains, returning just as quickly with several food carts piled high with pastries, cakes, puddings, and pies. 

“These two will get a choice… eat something from the cart, or feed it to their new friend. Greed begets gluttony.. But will gluttony beget lust?” the voice above questioned. “Place your bets as our contestants decide…’ 

Jesse stared at Claude, the light turning him into a radiating beacon of glistening flesh, his many rolls practically sparkling. He was immense, obscenely and impossibly fat… yet something about how utterly engulfed in himself he was captivated Jesse. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from how his legs sat uselessly saddled with hundreds of pounds of fat, arms laying out against his sides like gloves taped on bin bags full of lard. 

“J-Jesse…” 

The word was enough to shake him from his enamored, confused daze. 

‘Claude… Claude, I-”

“Please… Jesse, I can’t…” he huffed, panting over his own immensity, boy boobs bobbing on his chest with every breath. 

“N-No, I… I understand.” Jesse spoke, taking a heavy step towards him. Pushing their guts together to get close enough, Jesse placed a hand on the edge of his huge belly. “I’ll have to eat… I promise I won’t let you get any bigger if I can help it.”

He felt immediately guilty thinking the opposite, thinking obscene and uncontrollable thoughts about stuffing every one of the hundreds of pounds of bakery delights into him, making him so much bigger…

A loud gurgle rumbled in Claude’s belly, and a flush rose from his nose to his blubbery chest. 

“No… Jesse… please… feed me. My belly… so hungry…” he huffed, biting his lip. “This weight… is driving me wild… nom de dieu…” 

Jesse stopped, stunned, watching this blob of a man moan in a sea of himself. And then, grabbing a thick slice of chocolate cake, he leaned forward to press it to his lips, practically laying on him to get close enough. Their soft rolls mingled together in the warm embrace, and as Claude took the first bite, the two couldn’t help but wonder… 

Was this truly hell? 

Or their own personal heaven?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rumors sprouted quickly of the haunted casino off Chance Avenue, with its darkened doors and unlit signs. The winds around the building carried hints of music: dulcet, jazzy tones that vanished as soon as you listened for them, and yet the scents of sweet liquors and fine meals lingered beneath the nose. Nobody truly believed the place was still open despite these vague echoes of life, or if it ever was; it was merely another abandoned building, another empty parking lot. And yet, once every-so-often, an invitation is extended, or else another gambler exhausts all other avenues of luck-based-thrill the city has to offer and finds themselves approaching the edge of the avenue, and once more the grand building comes to life... for some devils are always waiting to make a deal. 

[darkmaga-returns]

Commentary by Brian Shilhavy Editor, Health Impact News

I want to start out this article by stating that I do NOT give out financial advice. I like to publish facts and information that may not be popular elsewhere, and I may sometimes allude to what I am doing regarding finances.

But there is no one-size-fits-all financial “truth” when it comes to managing one’s own finances or investing, and you should be wary of those who promote such one-size-fits-all views, and see if they have any economic motive for their “advice”.

How you manage your finances and invest depends on a variety of factors, including what it is you want to accomplish, and sometimes it is better to ignore financial advice from “the experts”, and use just plain old common sense.

I start from a thoroughly “prepper” mindset, as I have since 1998 when I started prepping for Y2K, and my goals and financial principles have been more refined from a “prepper mindset” since 2020 and the COVID Scam.

That means I am a financial pessimist, and believe that the entire system could collapse any day now, and I prepare accordingly.

In the event of a loss of infrastructure, where either electricity or the Internet, or both, become unavailable, one must understand how the economy will operate under such dire circumstances, and we actually have an example of that right now, and it has been going on for a few weeks now in Western North Carolina. See:

10,000 Body Bags Were Not Enough – Updates from on the Ground in North Carolina Disaster Relief

I personally know people from this area, and I have heard more than one of them report that during the days following the hurricane and their flooding rains that caused so much death and destruction, that local stores, such as gas stations, were ONLY accepting cash, and even there, only small bills (they would most likely not be able to exchange a 100 dollar bill, for example).

So if they could not even give change for a $100 bill, then they most certainly would not be interested in, or have the ability to, give you change on a 1 ounce gold coin or bar either, since the going rate is now over $2700 for spot price.

And that is assuming that those who are invested in Gold even have physical gold on hand that they can use, as the vast majority of people invested in Gold hold only “electronic gold”, meaning that to access it and retrieve it, they need BOTH electricity, and the Internet.

We know that the number of people purchasing physical gold is drastically increasing, since places like Costco and Walmart can barely keep physical 1 oz. gold bars in stock.

But I can almost guarantee that in a time of national crisis, which many believe could be imminent in this election year, you will not be able to go back to those same retail chains and be able to use your gold bars to be able to purchase anything in their stores (and in fact you cannot even do that right now).

[princess-of-the-corner]

So, in the MLP rewrite AU, how did you explain Sunset managing to get a job and an apartment? How did you address Sunset's lack of legal documentation in the rewrite AU?

Some Magic Bullshit and a good chunk of luck mostly!

Basically everything she had in a Hammerspace spell came through with her as a backpack. Which included a sizable amount of Equestrian currency since Unicorns use the spell as a wallet.

Equestrian currency being a solid gold coin the size of an oreo, and a chunk of large, high-quality, gemstones.

So suffice to say the exchange rate is insane!

Thanks to the gemstones, she wasn't /entirely/ without Magic, just incredibly limited in what she could do. But combine a half-decent forgery of documents with a spell that makes people more trusting of your words, and occasionally a little cash, you can do a surprising amount!

She'd run out of money eventually, but she budgeted so that she'd already be in a position to make more money semi-legally as a grown adult.

[fireballs-and-rainbows]

Sell Gold, It's Extremely Tasteful

Gold has been an important and profoundly sought-after precious metal for money, jewelry, and different expressions since well before the dawn of history. It has been generally involved all through the world as a vehicle for monetary trade. Numerous gold holders keep their fortunes in type of bullion coins or bars to protect them visit site here against inflation or other monetary disruptions. Such currencies are utilized for investment or only for gatherer's motivations.

Like other precious metals, gold is estimated by troy weight and by grams. At the point when it is alloyed with different metals the term carat or karat is utilized to show the virtue of gold present. The most elevated rating for an unadulterated gold is 24 carats. The virtue of a gold bar or coin ranged from 0 to 1, thus 0.995 being extremely unadulterated. The price of not entirely set in stone through gold exchanging however, in September 1919, a procedure known as Gold Fixing in London provides the day to day benchmark at the cost of gold.

Nowadays, you can trade in or sell your old jewelry. A jeweler, pawn broker, gold purifier or scrap gold vendor will buy your jewelry at a price based on the heaviness of its gold substance, short a dealing with expense. They will break down the jewelry, separates the gold and at times a portion of the solidifying specialists and resells it or simply use for themselves.

You can take the cash - - or on the other hand assuming you like, numerous jewelers will trade the old jewelry in for something you like better. Gold buyers will just compensation for gold. With few special cases, different metals have no resale esteem.

Besides, at present, there is a pattern of selling your old gold jewelry through on the web. There are different locales that proposition buy and sell of gold things. You simply have to call them to have an agreement with them. Then, at that point, they will offer cutthroat bid prices for your gold. Money from selling will be sent through check or through bank move.

It's up to you how will you reuse your gold. Simply ensure, you will acquire from it and not the reverse way around.

Next thing, sell to companions face to face or by means of informal communication destinations, even better set up a site to sell the products. Web based selling is the thing nowadays. You simply need to show photographs of the jewelries and lay the agreements of the shop and the wide range of various subtleties expected to buy your products. However, you simply need to consider a snappy name.

Lastly, WEAR your product. Nothing beats the strolling promotion. Wear them consistently, to everywhere imaginable, from work to parties. Say something with the jewelries, and when somebody saw, start the discussion or have a prepared handout or list to show and afterward make a deal. You will be amazed at how informal exchange functions it ponders here.

[goldjewellerybuyeringurgaon]

Sell gold for cash online

When you Sell Gold with jewelry buyers and agree with our price. Then we pay instant cash against old metals.

[jaggillarkebab]

Gold Exchanging - Gold Mining Investigation

Exchanging gold has been a Deep rooted practice worldwide. Gold has forever been a famous item inside the exchanging local area. With the ware trade spreading its foundations all over gold has again turned into a the investor's indisputable favorite. Individuals track down the investment in gold as one of the most secure click here to learn more since it provides lot of market solidness. Exchanging gold provides a large number of doable open doors.

The headway of Web has helped Gold Exchanging moreover. You can now do web based exchanging gold and keep yourself side by side with the most recent update every minute of every day. You can trade into different types of gold as well. That implies you can trade into gold coins and bars and you might go in for spot gold exchanging or gold futures. Good control over the tasks of the product trade would assist you with acquiring through gold trades. You can trade into the stocks of gold mining organizations. This is again not in any way shape or form a terrible option as they are into the business and nobody better than them is familiar with gold.

The price of gold like some other item relies upon the harmony between its demand and supply in the market. Exchanging gold definitely requires reasonable way of behaving and good learn about the market. Gold has forever been dearer than the paper cash. However it is priced as far as dollars yet at the same time it has never enjoyed good relations with dollar. At the point when the worth of money goes down especially of dollar gold sees a rise as well as the other way around. Monitoring such markers could prove valuable while exchanging gold.

One benefit of gold exchanging is that it doesn't have high unstable changes. Obviously a profitable exchanging exchange implies purchasing at a low price and selling at an exorbitant cost. In that sense gold offers a good range bound price movement at the item trade. A solid speculation likewise happens which continues to draw interest.

Managing gold futures is likewise a good option despite the fact that it is unsafe in the event that your expectation turns out badly. In the event that you screen the development of the money trade you would find out about how the price of gold would move soon. As currently referenced the price of gold and the worth of the money both move in the contrary headings. This structures major areas of strength for a to foresee the future gold prices.

Spot exchanging is likewise an unsafe relational word where profiting through on the spot trading requires a great deal of involvement. Exchanging into the stocks of gold mining organizations is another other option. You simply need to pick the portions of a good gold mining organization which has a good profit record. This would make your gold exchanging action an aberrant one.

[cboeck-webdesign]

The history of money - from the Iron Age to today

In thise Arcitel you will learn the history of paper money. Have you ever wondered how paper money and our current banking system came into being? I have researched this for you. The history of money goes back a long way, already in the Iron Age, the Celts began with the production of coins. In the early days of history, people exchanged their goods among themselves, this was problematic especially with long transport routes and so things like stones and shells were exchanged. Later, the first coins were invented, but they also proved to be impractical. So goldsmiths began to issue receipts for the value of jewelry and coins. Paper money was born and its history, continues in the 21st century.  

Currencies in antiquity

Already in ancient times, currencies were developed to facilitate the cumbersome barter trade. However, paper money was not used, but raw materials such as rice and grain. In other cultures, shells or precious stones were used; they were considered even more valuable, had a longer shelf life and were therefore more practical than a bag of grain. In eastern cultures, gold was already traded. A good example here is Babylon, who were considered the first gold lenders. When someone deposited coins, he received a receipt. These receipts became accepted as a means of payment and gave birth to paper money. Nevertheless, coins continued to be used as a means of payment.  

From barter to cash

In the past, people traded their goods with each other. Mostly things that they themselves produced or could manufacture. But bartering brought with it its share of problems. If a loaf of bread was exchanged for a sheep, the value of that sheep was naturally correspondingly higher. In addition, goods such as grain and fish could spoil quickly. If someone had no need to barter, the system would grind to a halt. Another solution had to be found, and so bartering began with valuable stones, shells, skins and jewelry.  

The origin of the coinage

Over 2700 years ago, the first coins were created in what is now Turkey. Soft precious metal was formed into coins and later used throughout the Mediterranean region. Ancient rulers began to stamp their portraits on the coins. But with the beginning of the early Middle Ages, coins lost their importance; there was no longer a uniform coinage system, as had long been the case in the Roman Empire.  

The origin of paper money

Paper money originated in the 11th century. The oldest banknotes appeared around 970 in China and were called jiaozi. There the trade with coins was already known, but when it came to higher sums, the coins were not easy to transport. Therefore, they were simply deposited with gold lenders under the names of the buyer and seller. In return, one received a piece of paper with the value of the coins. Thus the forerunner of receipts and paper money was born. In 1695, England was authorized to use paper money. France also followed suit in 1720 and put larger amounts of paper money into circulation. In Germany, the foundation of the German Reich in 1871 saw the introduction of the mark as a single currency.  

How paper money came from China to Europe

Paper money did not become established in Europe until centuries later. The merchant Marco Polo traveled to China in the 13th century and, on his return, reported on paper money, which was used there. However, it took many more years for the idea of paper money to catch on in Europe. It was not until around 1480 that Spain introduced the paper money alternative for lack of coins. Other banks in Europe also issued banknotes around 1660. However, the population remained skeptical and continued to pay with coinage. The first successful implementation of paper money was in Great Britain, around 1776. The exchange back into coins was possible at any time. It was not until the 19th century that paper money became established as a stable currency.  

How banking came into being

The Knights Templar knew how to handle money and were the first money lenders and bankers in the West. Today's monetary system, however, goes back much further and has its origins in the time before Christ. With the expansion of trade routes, new means of exchange emerged. Goods, however, could not be transported so well on journeys. Also, transporting gold coins on longer routes proved to be difficult and dangerous. Therefore, the monetary value was noted on receipts, and the merchants received a signed receipt, a so-called letter of value of their property. So we can say that goldsmiths became the first bankers. They simply issued vouchers for the valuables. Merchants passed only receipts and even lent foreign gold. In return, these receipts could be exchanged in all cities and thus the first banks were born. Paper money was born and gold was replaced by money.   A closer look at money Most people probably immediately think of cash, but there are now book money and digital currencies in addition to paper money. Money is merely a medium of exchange and a measure of value. However, you can also save your money for the future. Because of the negative interest rates, however, the value is now lost, so it is also worth investing in other forms of investment. Money in itself is not worth much, it is printed paper. But it has value because we use it to buy things we want. Money is based on trust between buyer and seller. No wonder that the first banknotes were pieces of paper with signatures that guaranteed that you could exchange something for gold. This is also how today's check system came into being. The amount of money is credited to the bank account without moving cash back and forth.  

From paper money to book money

We find book money on bank statements, direct debits and bank transfers. In the meantime, however, it also exists with providers such as PayPal, Amazon Pay or Paydirekt. Normally, however, it exists on the checking account in the form of numbers. Every credit card and all online banking also works with book money.  

Electronic money vs. cash

Do Germans really prefer to pay with cash? Until now, that was the case! But the current Corona crisis (as of 2020) has given many people a taste for cashless payment. In the meantime, however, this is possible not only with EC cards, but also with smartphones. But in Germany, cash has a high value, which has good reasons, especially because you know how much you have already spent and on the other hand it protects us from becoming a transparent citizen. With card payments, every transaction can be traced. Sweden and Norway, on the other hand, are increasingly opting for cashless payments. Moreover, money is a matter of trust, and many people trust what they can touch. However, cash is still popular not only in Germany; people also like to pay with cash in countries such as Luxembourg and Belgium. Scandinavian countries such as Norway, Sweden and Finland are on their way to a cashless world.  

Will cash be abolished in the future?

Again and again one reads in Corona times that cash is to be replaced by the so-called E-Euro or digital means of payment. ECB chief Lagarde currently expressed that cash will remain for the time being. But the trend is clearly pointing in the right direction. Younger people, in particular, are more often using credit cards or pulling out their smartphones at the checkout. There are even some stores that no longer accept cash. I myself grew up with cash and it is always a piece of freedom to be able to pay the way you want. The concern about cashless payment transactions is not entirely unjustified.  

Who benefits from the abolition of cash?

Those who make cashless purchases quickly become transparent citizens themselves, because shopper data is valuable. Who bought what, where, what they were interested in, who has what preferences and habits - all this is behavioral data that is collected and used. They are the basis for personalized advertising and for exact profiles. However, it is not only tech giants such as Google, Amazon or retailers that benefit from cashless payment transactions in this case, but also banks. As a result of the Corona crisis, many people preferred to pay by cell phone or credit card, although it has since been proven that bills do not pose an increased risk of infection. But how does the bank benefit when we prefer to use our credit card or even the e-euro? Cash protects us to some extent from negative interest rates and the bankruptcy of a bank. It's not for nothing that the saying goes: only cash is real. Without cash, penalty interest rates and fees for cashless payments would rise sharply because there would be no alternative for customers. With the digital euro, the ECB would have full control over citizens and the digital euro. It could, for example, stipulate that this money has an expiration date and that everyone is entitled to a certain amount. With cash, we can determine for ourselves what we have on hand, and that's exactly why cash will be so important in the future: it protects our privacy, leaves no digital footprints, and helps us keep better track of our finances.  

How to pay in the future

The 21st century is opening a new chapter in the history of money. There is now a wide range of payment methods, with the focus increasingly on cashless payments. Apple Pay and Goolge Pay are leading the way here. Paying by smartphone or online banking is now commonplace. Only for the purchase of groceries or in smaller downtown stores do we still pay with cash. The credit card has also become increasingly popular over time, thus also becoming a globally recognized means of payment. Withdrawing or transferring money is therefore no longer a problem. The advantages are obvious. It is convenient to pay online with one click, but the disadvantages should also be kept in mind. It is easier to lose track of your finances and you are more inclined to pay by credit card. Recently, we've been reading about the so-called e-euro, which is supposed to be a supplement to cash. Like many other Germans, I am skeptical about the e-euro, especially that it could eventually replace cash completely. The euro works like a digital wallet in which every citizen can manage 3000 euros and is forced to spend the money. The ECB will decide on the introduction of the digital euro this summer, but it is already clear that the e-euro will come.  

Cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin, Monero and Ethereum

Money today is mostly transferred online. This is how the idea of a virtual currency was born. The best known of these is bitcoin. Bitcoin was the first decentralized currency in 2009. This means that it is not managed by any central bank and is therefore independent of the government. The Bitcoin can also be used in the real world. However, still relatively few stores, offer payment by Bitcoins. Investing in Bitcoins can be risky, as the Bitcoin rate is always subject to extreme fluctuations. In addition, you have to store the virtual coins securely in a wallet and can usually only pay digitally with them.     Summary -  The history of paper money   In conclusion, the history of paper money is a fascinating journey that spans centuries and continents. From its humble origins in ancient China to its widespread adoption in the modern world, paper money has revolutionized economies and transformed the way people conduct trade. Throughout history, paper money has faced numerous challenges, including counterfeiting and inflation, but it has also provided societies with unprecedented convenience and flexibility in their financial transactions. Today, as digital currencies and contactless payments gain prominence, the future of paper money may be uncertain. However, its rich history serves as a testament to the remarkable evolution of human civilization and the ever-changing nature of monetary systems. Whether paper money continues to play a significant role or gives way to new forms of currency, its legacy will endure as a symbol of economic progress and the complex relationship between commerce, trust, and innovation.   Read the full article

[thewalkingcigarette]

feet ache hot with day, coated socks caked with work. vest that pulls and yanks and prods, shorts that cling and stretch and crinkle, shirt that drags and catches and sticks. i am a body in this building and i am moving, i am still, i am inflamed and i am sickly and i burn and freeze, i am everything a man can become and everything a man can be destroyed for all in eight hours that drip on by, a faucet left leaking, a vent left whispering, a door left ajar, a window left cracked, a blanket left folded, a closet left astray, a paper left on the very top of a can that bristles with life's use.

each shirt hangs easy, one after one, dot and tag and hang and hook, pile and walk and strut and ring-up, conversations and the clash banging throughout the store, smacking against my skull, pinching my fingers, scratching my bare legs. fabric and cotton and designs and fresh tags, used and worn, holes and spotless, brand and brand and brand after brand. never ending, always something, junk and gold and good and bad, i pack it and set it down on surfaces, i watch it stay discarded or i see it snatched by greedy hands. i see it given up on, thrown to a truck heaving with the heavy waste that the world has deemed unwanted. a thousand pounds to be burned and destroyed, to never rot away, to never return to the soil, made by human beings who can experience the cycle of nature and love, a doomed destiny to suffer forever, never quite disappearing.

talk screams up these haunted white lights, skipping straight pass me as a car running down the main, breezing with a flit just swift to lift a hair off my neck, a violent whip of wind to rush down my front and the bend of my knees. how are you? receipt? bag? punch-card? how are you? receipt? bag? punch-card? how are you? receipt? final question, bag? oh shoot, punch-card? how are you? receipt? bag? punch-card? cards and crumpled bills, pants and dresses and plates and baskets and bikes, all of mankind is in this room and it permeates the air as a declaration, it cries back at me and races up my finger tips and snaps and snarls as i flick plastic and ignore the screech of little paper tags, i exist, i was made, i was used, i wasnt wanted, i was tossed, i was given. how many hands? how many bodies? who has witnessed you? and now youre here, dead and alive and brought back again, as though humanity has made items just to throw them out, and god has gifted them from the piles of garbage.

when jesus returns shall he be in this second-hand store? will i pull the tag from him and press his price, his value, quick and fleeting across a screen that bends and shutters when my fingers fly across it? will he weigh heavy, a stone in plastic bag, re-used? regifted? rejuvenated? reborn? if god were to birth his son once again, i hope he not pass through this store, i hope he not be exchanged for coins and plastic cards and folded up cash that belts when i snap it under metal cages.

[misteranthrope]

How To Get The Best Cash For Gold

Above all else, do you have gold around your desired house to turn in for cash? If thus, then, at that point, you need to find a good cash for gold company that will give you visit site here cash for your gold. Gold buyers can likewise utilize this kind of company to buy gold. Many individuals today are starting to see the sense in buying gold. Gold is one item that always holds its worth and can come in coins as well as in mass.

Do you have gold around your desired house to turn in for cash? If thus, then you need to find a good cash for gold company that will give you cash for your gold. Gold buyers can likewise utilize this kind of company to buy gold. Many individuals today are starting to see the sense in buying gold. Gold is one item that always holds its worth and can come in coins as well as in mass. Gold buyers New York can go to a spot that is reputable and will give them good quality for their money. Gold is always a good investment and never more so then, at that point, when the economy is bad.

Whether you are seeking turn in your gold for cash and in this manner get cash for gold or on the other hand if you are one of the gold buyers who is searching for a way to invest in gold, a good company is needed. There are organizations situated in New York that are reputable and can be viewed as on the web. The people who are hoping to sell gold New York can do so when they go to such an internet based objective. They can get cash for gold along these lines and get the money that they need for occasion spending as well as to get buy. Quite possibly of the best thing about possessing gold is that you can sell it whenever you need and get the cash. It always holds its worth, albeit the worth of gold changes relying on the economy that additionally incorporates the worldwide economy. Gold buyers ought to know the cost of gold before they buy and the goal is to buy low and afterward sell high.

There are a few gold buyers who will buy gold when it is modest and afterward sell it when the cost goes up. An individual can make a tad of money along these lines and numerous gold buyers who buy in mass can bring in money playing this market. Albeit the costs go all over in the gold market, they don't go absolute bottom as they do in the securities exchange, which is the reason gold is viewed as a more safe investment. The people who have gold close by, even garbage gold that is contained in broken jewelry can get cash for gold when they present it to a company that will take the gold pieces, dissolve them down and afterward pivot to sell them to investors.

Whether you need to buy gold and be one of the gold buyers or on the other hand if you are searching for cash for gold that you have, the spot to go is a reputable company that can do both. They will actually want to give you the ongoing worth of the gold that you sell in light of the weight as well as the immaculateness of the gold. The people who are hoping to buy gold as an investment can involve one of these organizations as well as they by and large proposition a low cost for the gold that they are selling, to some extent a ton lower than a portion of the gold vendors nearby. The people who are hoping to invest in a good and strong investment can do so when they investigate what they can get with regards to investing in gold.

[fit-blargh]

Why Gold?

Individuals instinctively realize Gold is really money, here is an extraordinary model for you. If you somehow managed to provide a kid with the option of 2 money boxes, one brimming with paper cash and one more brimming with Gold coins, which how about the kid pick? You have it, kids generally pick the money box loaded with Gold. We instinctively realize that Gold has esteem, its been utilized as a store of wealth for more than 5000 years. Truth be told 5000 years prior an ounce of Gold would get you a suit of clothing, 1000 years prior an ounce of Gold visit site here would get you a suit of clothing.... furthermore, today, you've gotten it, with Gold exchanging at $1790, an ounce of Gold actually gets you a suit of clothing.

Gold provides wealth protection since it keeps up with its buying influence better compared to paper monetary standards (otherwise called fiat). Research shows since the beginning of time, each paper money at any point printed has at last lost buying influence against gold. No government issued money disconnected from gold has prevailed as a steady store of significant worth, but no gold upheld cash has at any point fizzled. At present the world's significant monetary standards are going along a very much trampled way to loss of buying power. Broadly accessible realities shows the Japanese yen, the English pound, the euro and the US and Canadian dollars have lost more than 70% of their buying power against gold in the beyond 10 years alone.

As we keep on heading into additional monetary vulnerability and precariousness with increasing global debt and enormous scope money printing by Central Banks, which causes the cheapening of cash - nothing unexpected individuals are realizing that their money and savings are done giving them the financial security and returns they once did.

Quite possibly of the most recognizable pattern around Gold is in the west Gold it seen as speculation and on the off chance that the economy is struggling its viewed as a safe shelter. However in the East, Gold is viewed as a conservation of wealth, status and protection from difficulty. In nations, for example, India and China are the greatest purchasers of Gold and have been investing in it for a really long time. In the East Gold is given as a present during weddings, birthday celebrations and celebrations. For instance the beyond 90 days in India are known as the Gold Celebration on the grounds that during this time the consumption of Gold increases by 25% because of Eid, Dewali and afterward the conventional wedding meeting.

[jazzybot4]

"My guy, you are overpaying for your bread." I tell the being in front of me, getting a hissed out sound that could be a laugh, could be a death rattle. There are six sourdough loaves on the counter, unbagged and still a little warm from the oven. It's four-forty-five AM, and sunrise is in thirty minutes. "Unless this is a trick coin that disappears when the sun rises." I muse, looking down at the very suspicious *solid gold* coin sitting on my counter. It's happened before. "I'll go get the scale I guess." I say, resigned, and head back to the office where I keep the box of jewelers-grade tools for this kind of thing. If the coin is real, it certainly is heavy enough to be Significant. It's nearly two ounces of solid gold. "Look." I say, sighing as I look up the days gold prices. "If I take this coin as a solid piece, *and* it's genuine through a year and a day, I'll take the value and set you up a tab so that you don't have to pay every time. Human money isn't worth as much as this any more, and it's not fair to overcharge you for *bread*." I tell it. The coin is worth over five thousand dollars in modern human American currency. That's absolutely going to be a pain to explain to the IRS. A chittering sound like birds in the dark. Agreement, probably. Should be anyhow, my refusal to cheat anyone has been the reason these strange beings show up more and more often. "So I can't make change for this." I tell the being. "I'll add it to the Vault, get it appraised once I've got it authenticated, and in the meantime you can have as much bread as you want." I say, and the bread vanishes into the things robes, to a very loud chirping storm that is silenced when the robes fall back into place. "Pleasure doing business." the being says in a voice that isn't human, is very much *not* human and I don't want to ask further. "We will return. The wild seed rolls are delightful." it says in six different voices, and I grin and nod. "Come back on Thursday." I tell them. "I've been experimenting again, and I think the sunflower and pumpkin seed rolls are ready to go live. We've got the drop scheduled on instagram and tiktok!" I tell them, and they whistle a chirpy tune as they pull a cell phone out of nowhere and scan my code that I had etched into the counter so that I didn't have to make business cards. Even the eldrich have smartphones these days, and it's just easier to have something available that they don't have to touch to get what they want, since some rules still say that they must offer something of equivalent exchange and cannot take gifts. Like a business card. It's not easy running a bakery, and nobody else will work the witching hours, but it's a lot of fun. I'd had no idea that so many *interesting* beings also loved bread as much as I do. I turn from waving to the strange being, and I move to check out my next customer. Who is absolutely not three gnomes in a trench coat. Absolutely not. That would be absurd. They want three sandwiches, three giant cookies, and three coffees. Can't be three gnomes in a trench coat though. The rubies they pay with are very pretty though, and I consider again how hard it would be to find a jeweler who didn't ask questions. A ruby necklace would be a lovely way to turn the gems and gold into cash for the business account. I reload the gnomes tab, and they leave with their sandwiches and coffee and cookies, and I throw in a pack of ginger snap cookies for them to try too, since they always leave me good reviews on the local facebook pages.

You run a Bakery, just a normal bakery, the only problem is that your customers at midnight to 6AM are mythical creatures who pay with gemstones and ancient gold and silver coins

[seoteam1]

Scrap Gold and Silver Buyer – Top Rates & Fast Service

If you’re looking to turn your unwanted gold and silver into cash, you’ve come to the right place. Golden Cash Exchange LLC is your trusted partner in the scrap gold and silver market. With competitive rates and efficient service, we make the process of selling your precious metals simple and rewarding.

Why Sell Scrap Gold and Silver?

Looking for a reliable scrap gold and silver buyer? Look no further than Golden Cash Exchange LLC for top rates and fast service. People choose to sell scrap gold and silver for various reasons. Whether you have broken jewelry, old coins, or silverware that you no longer use, these items can hold significant value. Selling your scrap can help you:

Get Instant Cash: Converting your unwanted metals into cash is a quick way to boost your finances.

Declutter Your Space: Clearing out old items can create more room in your home.

Reinvest Wisely: Use the cash you receive for other investments or necessities.

What We Buy

If you're searching for cash for gold silver near me, our friendly team is ready to help you turn your unwanted metals into instant cash. We purchase a wide range of gold and silver items. Some common items include:

Gold Jewelry: Broken necklaces, mismatched earrings, and old rings.

Silverware: Antique or unwanted silver utensils and serving pieces.

Coins: Gold and silver coins that you no longer collect.

Dental Gold: Unused dental work can also be valuable.

Why Choose Golden Cash Exchange LLC?

When it comes to selling your scrap metals, you want to ensure you are getting the best deal possible. Here are a few reasons why we stand out:

Top Rates: We offer competitive rates that reflect the current market value of gold and silver.

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Final Thoughts

Selling scrap gold and silver can be a rewarding experience, especially when you choose a reliable buyer like Golden Cash Exchange LLC. With top rates, quick service, and expert assistance, we are here to help you make the most of your unwanted metals. Experience the convenience and satisfaction of working with a trusted buyer. Your unwanted items could be worth more than you think!

[goldjewellerybuyeringurgaon]

Sell old jewellery in jhandewalan

We always care about our sellers and give the highest rate on any kind of Sell old jewellery. Where team members are professional experience will evaluate, examine valuables. At the request of any customers, we also provide free home pickup and drop service in Delhi NCR.