Dolan sipped his wine, rubbing his wedding band.
He’d aged the wine to perfection-something that normally took decades to work, done in seconds. He strutted through his personal gallery of ancient art that had been once thought forever lost in time like Sleeping Eros and Portrait Bust of King Charles I. All totaled, the tiny museum would be worth multiple millions of dollars. Dolan believed the art contrasted well with the Irish decor in his office.
From behind his grand desk rose a window that encompassed most of the wall. From it he could look down upon the casino floor below. For a casino whose existence spread solely through word-of-mouth and innuendo, the floor was as busy as the Taj Mahal today.
His phone rang.
Dolan shook himself out of his reverie and pulled his copper-colored hair back and tied with a leather thong. Time to get back to business. A smile tugged the edge of his mouth into a smirk. He picked up the phone leisurely.
“Sir, we have a few new recruits. Bet almost their whole live. What do you wanna do with ‘em?” His floor manager asked.
Dolan glanced down at the main floor. His slot machine seating was full. Same with the poker and roulette tables. He even had those new-fangled video machines-he kept those on the second floor, though. The bar was working over time, his casino girls and guys walking around, scantily clad, handing cigarettes and cigars and whiskey and chips to various players. He could always use help.
“Bring them to the basement center station. Make sure Leon regresses them far enough this time. I want them loyal, Brennan.” Dolan sips his wine, trying not to let his temper flare as he thought about the Book Owner he’d almost caught. “Age them back up to the point that they are mine. We lost three because someone wasn’t paying attention.”
“Of course sir.” The phone went silent.
Dolan smiled as he saw someone being wheeled off the floor towards the elevators in the back. Whoever that person was or used to be was irrelevant. They’d be working for him until they paid off their debt…which could take them, oh, forever. Not all of them, though, just the ones who were problems. What would be the fun in removing someone from existence who didn’t want to give up yet? The addicts gave new players someone they could beat, entrapping them further. And if they won? Why, those chips always ended up back in Dolan’s pocket eventually.
Dolan glanced over at the perpetually frozen form of his husband, Jimmy Tortino, face forever locked on the cusp of orgasm and shock, and smiled.
“Hey, Honey,” Dolan said. “Can you believe we got this far?”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A month or so ago, Dolan had been a gambling addict. He’d spent all his money at the slots, get rich quick schemes and bad investments. He worked as a security guard at a hotel-he was too notorious to ever be allowed to guard the main floor at any casino. He’d been doing that for the last ten years, dreaming of finally making it big. Instead he found himself sucking up to CEOs and celebrities and the children of rich socialites who’d never worked a day in their life go about their days carefree while he scrabbled to survive, living paycheck to paycheck.
One would think that, as a compulsive gambler, his deadly sin, his fatal flaw was Greed. But no. What motivated Dolan the most was Envy. He hated the wealthy and the successful. It hadn’t always been that way, of course. But as his losses piled up and it became obvious he would always be a faceless outsider in the great game of life, that he would never be able to buy one of those fancy new cars not even if he saved every last penny he made for the rest of his life, he began to hate.
That hate had grown so strong that one night, after losing a straight flush to an impossible royal flush, he came upon a drunk guy and nearly beat him to death. The drunk guy had technically come upon him, actually. He’d parked his beautiful Bamborghini near an alley and had stumbled out to piss or throw up or possibly both at once. Dolan had found himself seized with an overwhelming rage. This man was the guy who was his purported better? This fucking drunk?
Dolan fell upon the man, raining blows on his head and back. When the man had fallen down, curled up into a ball, expensive suit soaking a puddle of his own filth, Dolan had kicked him, stomped him. Then he’d taken his key and wallet and drove that Bamborghini out into the desert and lit it on fire.
It was absolutely spectacular, and even though Dolan’s heart was rabbiting like mad over fear of being caught, wondering if the CCTV cameras would do him in, he felt clear. Calm. Absolved of his sins. The Bamborghini had been a thing of beauty, worth more than Dolan could ever hope to make in his life, and now it was worth just as much as he was: Nothing.
He returned home, showered and walked back to his room-the only other room in his shitty one-bedroom apartment-to change his clothes when he found the Book of Time lying on his bed. Dolan’s immediate thought was that it was a joke. He read it and hid it under his shirt, deciding it couldn’t hurt to try. He had spending money from the rich guy, so he was going to spend it.
Dolan’s preferred casino was a small one just down the block from his crummy apartment. He was well-known by the staff there, he lost most of his earnings every week at their poker tables. Dolan basically thought of the place as his second home. The man who ran the casino, a portly old fuck named Jimmy Tortino, was more than willing to let Dolan continue playing if he ‘assisted him’ later. Dolan was bisexual, not gay, but if he could roll the dice one last time at the roulette table, a shot or two in the mouth wasn’t a bad trade.
His luck was as bad today as it was every week he came in. He could see Tortino smirking from the window of his office on the third floor. When he saw Dolan looking up at him, the older man winked and swirled his bourbon. Dolan clenched his jaw and returned to the game. Dolan had actually believed for a few months that Jimmy was in love with him. He’d slowly realized the older man didn’t actually like him, he just enjoyed flexing his power.
It was all but over now. He could have won the whole pot-$15,000-but he’d folded on a complete bluff. In his increasing desperation, he decided to bet his whole paycheck. Again, hands were dealt, and again the other player managed to spook him. And Dolan found himself out of chips.
Dolan grit his teeth and whispered. “History.”
His vision jumped, sound rising to an inaudible level, and he was confused and disoriented as reality shuddered into focus again.
“Sir?” The dealer had asked. “Are you okay?”
“Nerves.” The other player grinned devilishly at Dolan. “He’s going to lose.”
Dolan blinked, wondering what they were talking about, before noticing his entire paycheck was still in a pile in the middle of the table and not in his opponent’s pocket. He stared in shock at the other player before a grin spread across his face. He could win now, call this dude’s bluff-!
“Fold.” The other player said promptly, eyeing the grin on Dolan’s face.
Fuck!
“History.” Dolan snarled.
Another shudder. Back to the table, same hand, same bet. Dolan looked supremely nervous. Would he be able to pull it off this time? Would he suspect? The other player read his face and opened his mouth.
“All in.” The other player smirked, pushing his chips into the pile.
Dolan stared. “Call.”
And he won. Of course he won. With a Book that let him time travel, the hardest part of winning was making it seem genuine. That kept him out of most casinos with facial recognition software. But the smaller ones? The slots?
After a while, he got tired of winning. He started time travelling to different periods in history. Woodstock. New York in the roaring twenties. 16th century Japan, Egypt, Rome at its height. You name a time period, he’d gone there. He’d killed Hitler, discovered it changed nothing in his original timeline. Saved Hitler for the fuck of it. Again, nothing changed. And as he realized that he couldn’t actually affect history…he grew bored of it.
He went back into his own past. Invested in Bitchcoin, Camestop, pulled out when the stocks hit their peaks. Convinced his father to invest in Amazon and Telsa. By the time he returned to the present he was one of the richest men in the world, rivaling Besoz and Nole.
But something had gone wrong. Even though he’d made sure he was in his early twenties and immortal, something would change. Slowly-so slowly he hadn’t even noticed until he used a restroom in Motown-he’d grown inexplicably older. The wrinkles around his eyes and the lines on his forehead had froze him in shock. Dolan had frantically pulled out his driver’s license. Fifty years old. A good fifty-he was limber, clearly had some work done, definitely had his hairline altered and not fat, thank god-but still.
It wasn’t until he went back to warn himself and found he’d aged another year on his return to the present that it finally clicked: Every alteration he made resulted in him gaining a year. That put an end to outright time travel very quickly.
When he came back this time, however, something HAD changed. Walking the streets of Vegas were anthropomorphic animals. An anthro-horse and mare were walking side by side past him. He stared. And it wasn’t just animals. Leprechauns, Elves, Dwarves…freakshit was just as prevalent as humans. He was pretty sure that killing Hitler or saving Hitler did not create spontaneous animal people.
A week ago he amassed his wealth and resources and bought Tortino’s casino outright. The older man-well, slightly older, now-protested.
“Dolan, come on! You get on a winning streak and you think I’d let you buy my place?” Tortino shook his head. “Is this an ego thing cause I made ya blow me? You liked it!”
Dolan didn’t dispute that. Jimmy had a nice Italian sausage and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t unpleasant. And it was an ego thing. Leading him on…
Jimmy had his back to Dolan, filling up his glass of bourbon.
Dolan whispered regression, targeting himself. He grew younger looking, though his true age didn’t change. It was entirely cosmetic.
Dolan pointed at Jimmy and whispered. “Regression.”
Jimmy shivered and took a sip of bourbon, frowning. His wrinkles and flab disappeared, hair fully restoring. Dolan brought him all the way back to his early thirties. The now-younger man turned and stared at Dolan, puzzled.
“Um, do I know you?” Jimmy asked, eyes scanning him up and down.
Dolan gave him a sultry smirk. “Yeah, just wanting to know if you were interested in selling.”
“Sell?” Jimmy eyed Dolan some more.
Dolan smiled and came forward, briefcase full of money popping open. Jimmy crept forward, counting the bills. Dolan circled around him, his, hand running down Jimmy’s newly-toned body.
“Yeah.” Dolan breathed
Jimmy turned around, licked his lips. “Maybe we can work something out.”
Dolan reached up, grabbed Jimmy by the back of his head, and slowly lowered him to his crotch. He felt Jimmy fumbling with his belt, unzipping his trousers, pulling his pants down. Then he moaned as his member was engulfed in moist soft warmth.
Jimmy was good with his mouth, but now at least they’d have some kind of relationship that wasn’t entirely one-sided. Dolan cast progression on himself, returning his body to his true age. He’d miss being young of course, but as long as he was careful, this was as old as he’d ever get.
He pointed down at the younger, slimmer Jimmy and whispered. “Progression.”
Dolan moaned, hand reaching down past his tightening abs to caress the bald patch of hair at the back of Jimmy's head, not noticing the gold glint on one of his fingers. He wanted to push Jimmy away, gather his thoughts, but then Jimmy swirled his tongue and Dolan felt himself press the slightly older man..actually, about the same age as Dolan…down into his crotch.
God, he was good with his mouth! Dolan sat back on the nearby duvet, enjoying the tugging and sucking on his cock. Jimmy followed him down, moving his knees out of the way for better access. He leaned back, lying down on the duvet, relaxing. Jimmy continued sucking and Dolan realized he was close to ejaculation. It had come on him so suddenly he barely had time to say anything.
“Jimmy.” Dolan panted, “I’m-”
Jimmy’s hand squeezed around the base of Dolan’s cock, finger pressing something at the base of his cock, and the orgasm eased away. Dolan gasped as he felt jimmy lift his legs up and over his head. Something gold glinted on Jimmy’s finger, barely visible in the dim office light.
Dolan stared at the gold band around Jimmy’s finger. Then he raised his own hand, seeing an identical wedding band on his own hand. They were married? Holy shit! A cold feeling rose in the pit of Dolan’s stomach. He thought Jimmy was just crowing over him with all those blowjobs…
Distantly, he heard Jimmy’s pants drop to the floor. Jimmy reached over to the desk and dug out some lube with one hand and squirted it into his palm. Dolan jumped as his husband-no, he was, he was just some guy- slathered cool gel on his hairy asshole. He groaned as one finger wriggled between his firm asscheeks and into his hole, prodding his prostate.
Dolan moaned again, the tension releasing from his muscles. He could correct this later.
Another finger found its way into his virgin hole, then a third, then a whole hand. He groaned, opening his eyes and found himself staring up at his husband’s warm smile and twinkling eyes. The fist inside him flexed and Dolan let himself lie back into the duvet, cock drooling. Jimmy was hitting all the right buttons, Dolan was practically purring.
“Ready babe?” Jimmy asked, wrinkles at the corners of his mouth decreasing as he smiled.
Dolan looked down at Jimmy’s Italian stallion and winced as it circled his hole.
“W-wait I’m tight!” Dolan protested.
“Once upon a time.” Jimmy snickered, but eased his fat Italian hog into Dolan’s twitching ring in acquiescence. “There we go, deep breaths, relax.”
Dolan scrunched his face in worry as he looked down over his hairy abs, trying to get a better view. He could feel his husband glide into him with ease., filling him up, rubbing against his prostate. It was like his asshole was molded to Jimmy’s cock. And then, he realized, it basically was. They’d spent the last twenty years together after Jimmy bought the casino living the good life and it showed.
“Jimmy,” Dolan moaned happily, letting the memories in, abs tightening.
“Yeah baby, I know,” Jimmy’s hairline was thickening up, his sagging skin firming and gaining a golden complexion from a recent tanning session.
Dolan felt his head itch and puffed as something fell in his eyes. He reached up and brushed the long, thick locks of ginger hair from his eyes. His hair transplants had taken perfectly. They took their looks seriously as a couple.
A voice inside of him was shouting to undo this, but another, sweeter voice was telling him to give in, enjoy all the goodness his life had been missing. It made him feel tense, the roiling in his mind. Another few pumps by his loving husband were enough for him to relax once again.
Jimmy lay his own muscular torso on top of Dolan’s and kissed him deeply. One hand reached up to fondle his nipple, squeezing it and groping it as it quivered and enlarged, filling with muscle, becoming a heavy pec. Jimmy and Dolan took good care of themselves.
Dolan’s cock spasmed but Jimmy gripped it again and it went still.
“Not yet, my love.” Jimmy whispered, grinding against his prostate.
“Ugh…” Dolan groaned.
The two older men fucked some more, Jimmy edging Dolan over and over. It was easy for Dolan to let himself go, give in to the lovely voice in his head, and it rewarded him with more memories and heavier muscles.
No more worries. The voice whispered.
Dolan hesitated.
Neither noticed the door open a crack and a finger point through. “Regression.”
Age faded from the two lovers, wrinkles disappearing, real hair filling their hairlines, muscles bulging and skin smoothing. Dolan was the only one to notice. His eyes rolled to the figure standing in his doorway and he laughed.
It was himself.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jimmy looked over to the door, wondering who it was-
“Freeze.” A voice that seemed vaguely familiar said.
Dolan glanced up at his savior-and he knew that he’d been saved, though from what, he had no idea. This version of himself was actually elderly, perhaps 80 years old, by Dolan’s calculations, stark white hair and dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.
“Jimmy discovering multiple versions of us is a trigger for Paradox.” Old Dolan explained.
“When a voice in your head tells you if you give in you’ll never have to worry about anything again…don’t listen to it.” Old Him said.
“What was that? That voice?” Dolan asked.
And he gave himself the lowdown on Paradox and Audits and why he kept getting older the more he changed his own past.
“It’s easier to alter small events in someone’s life, budge them slowly to the conclusion you want. Not, uh, fuck him and become his loving husband.” Old Him explained. “You can do better than Tortellini over there. But at least you stayed skinny. There are other timelines when you two become fat, hairy bears in a floundering casino. It was like goddamn lemon party, yo.”
“Gross.” Dolan winced.
“Oh course, that’s really in the hands of the Auditor you get assigned. Leaving twenty years open to interpretation is entirely your fault, though.” Old Him snorted. “It’s like making a wish for gold. It’s literally so open to interpretation it literally lethal.”
“So...do you have a plan?” Dolan asked. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”
“Yes.” Old Him smiled and unrolled a set of blueprints. “Literally.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Old Him informed him that his true issue was boredom. Time skipping made gambling boring. What he really wanted was true competition. He’d won the lottery, finally, and now it was time to pay things back.
The blueprints were to a Casino. But not just any Casino (and judging by the designs, which included pentagrams and non-euclidean angles, not really a casino at all), the best casino in the world, nay, the multiverse! Naturally, it would cost him the vast majority of his own wealth to build. Not because it was huge-it was on the bigger side of things in Vegas. Or because it was elegantly appointed-which, yes, it was. But mostly because all the materials and gemstones needed for the special whorls and circles inset into the floors and the screws that held up the building and its accompanying hotel were incredibly expensive.
First, the old casino had to go. Jimmy actually owned the entire block, so he had to kick out all the tenants. Any of them that got too uppity about it were suddenly babies. The local churches found themselves swamped with anonymous mothers dropping unwanted children off at their doorsteps. It was a tough sacrifice, but one Dolan was willing to make.
Dolan used his spells to speed up the construction inside. When the workers tried to leave, they’d find themselves having only worked an hour. He kept food and drink flowing freely to the site, making sure he rotated his workers in and out.
It was fascinating to watch a construction project that should have taken years be completed in 7 days. Well, business days. He still couldn’t figure out how to make them work weekends. Anyways, his own personal playground rose up from the ground, ready for his use.
He walked past the ornate water fountain outside and through his new casino, Mag Mell. The design reminded him of the Panopticon prison design, his personal rooms and offices giving him a perfect 360 view of the casino floors below. The smell of new paint and waxed marble floors greeted him as he walked in. He was still considering what the right scent was for the building. Every casino had their own personalized odor.
Here, he could watch others struggle to play for their own personal realities. This was a casino where you gambled your life, not your money. And if anyone won enough, they would get to face off against him for his Book. But first, he needed to bring in the rest of him.
Dolan read the spell the Old Him had given him. “Nexus.”
Immediately, the doors to the casino opened behind him and other Hims stepped inside. All the Hims Old Him had decided would be useful, anyways. They too, had constructed a casino right here on this land following the exact same blueprints. The spell linked the hotel to every world-line that then spoke the Nexus spell.
The other hims that stepped through had altered their appearance based off the Books they had won:
A rather adorable Anthro Pine Martin stepped through, The Book of Time and Beasts clutched in his paw-hands, staring at the others walking in the doors in shock.
The Him with the Book of Arcane was a little older than he currently was and just looked slightly confused.
An intelligent looking version of him stepped through the next door and checked his Books-Time and Divination.
The next door over, a muscle-gutted power-lifter stepped through the door, features chiseled, looking so yoked he could lift the Aldblair Stone with ease, carrying the Book of Time and Body.
A robotic version of him stepped through the next door, eyes glowing, carrying the Book of Time and Transmutation.
The Him with the Book of Mind didn’t appear to be anything special.
The last version of himself to step through was a sinuous golden dragon, floating into the casino, a dignified air to him, clutching the Book of Time and Myth.
“Who the fuck are you?” They said to each other simultaneously.
“Hi. Excuse me.” Dolan waved. “I’m Prime Dolan and this is the Nexus- a place in time and space. We’re going to rock this casino. Hand over the Books.”
After a bit of grumbling, the various versions of him agreed.
Nothing.
The Books refused to merge with his.
“Well that failed.” Pine Martin Dolan rolled his eyes. “What’s next? Or did we all just blow our cash on an overpriced casino.”
“Each one of you obtained one Book from your worlds and altered it to suit your tastes.” Dolan smiled. “But here, in this casino, we make other people gamble for their desires.”
“Wait, hold on, what about Paradox?” The Mind Dolan asked.
“What?”
“Isn’t meeting yourself a huge Paradox?”
“Yes! If we were time traveling to the Past or Future. This is the Present.” Prime Dolan nodded. “No Time Loops were created in the making of this Casino.”
“What about the game?” Debonair Dolan quirked a brow. “The Big Book Battle or whatever?”
“Let them come.” Prime Dolan shrugged. “All of us together are just as powerful as any of those chumps.
“I’m in for the greatest casino in the multiverse.” Muscle-gut Dolan grinned. “I think that sounds fun! We have rules off something?”
Murmurs as the other Dolans began voicing their opinions.
“Hey! No!” Prime Dolan clapped his hands together loudly. “This is not a Dolanmocracy, this is a Dolantatorship! I already have the Rules posted on the central eye. Each of you are in charge of your specific rings, so get to work!”
“Query: Why does the Dolan who has never beat an opponent deserve to lead?” Robo Dolan asked.
“Because I’m the Prime! You guys are all copies of me.” Prime Dolan shrugged. “More successful copies, to be sure, but you’re guests in this home. And, might I add, any changes here, happen in ALL multiverse. We only need to win the game once in order to win in all your worlds. Pretty sweet, right?”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Three days later, Mag Mell opened its doors. A surprising rush of people came in, eager to test their luck, hoping for a better life. Humans, Anthros, Robots, Myths, if it existed, it came. The casino was open 24/7 and busy at all hours. Old Man Dolan popped in every once in a while to check on how things were going, then pop out to ‘observe other realities’. Dolan had no idea what that meant.
Guests walking in were greeted with the scent of warmth and refreshment, like it was springtime. The time for renewal and rebirth. Dolan thought it was perfect for an establishment that offered exactly that.
In front, enshrined in golden letters inset in black marble that contrasted with the white marble interior, were the Rules of Mag Mell:
1 - You must have at least one Mind, Body, and Soul Chip to Play.
2 - All games are binding: You cannot be forced to play, but abandonment counts as forfeit.
3 - If you default on your bet, or lose beyond the base play requirement, your life is forfeit to the House or the Winning Opponent, dependent on the game.