Picture by Fluf.P

"Candy!" My boss, Tony, shouted, recalling me into his office, "We need to talk." "Please stop calling me that," I whisper meekly, readjusting the latex cups of my bunny suit. "Too bad, you're Candace until the higher-ups let you have your dick back," he scolded, "Speaking of, they wanted you to know that if you continue this moping about, your body won't be the only thing they change." I gulped at the prospect of losing my mind, not in madness, but to the casino I had stupidly put everything on the line in. "Now, get back out there," he commanded, slapping my ass on the way out, "And don't forget, either smile or we'll make you smile."

Only a month ago, I had entered this casino that now imprisoned me. I was your average schmuck, thinking they could win it big and never have to work again in their life. I played a few of each table game. Roulette, craps, blackjack, each time losing a large portion of the money I had overdrawn from my account, until the only thing left in my pockets was lint. I started for the exit, tail between my legs, just thinking about what I'd tell my bank, when I saw a table I had never seen before. The sign advertised the rules, which seemed simple enough, but what caught my eye was the betting system. This table didn't take money, it took physical traits.

I sat at the table and was greeted by the dealer with a nod. Not having anything else to bet, I put my height on the line. I was dealt my hand, and the dealer put his on the table. I played my cards accordingly, but apparently didn't understand the rules and was told so by the dealer. I felt the world around me grow as I lost a significant portion of my height, until I was only five and a half feet. The sudden change made me realize just how real this game was. I bet muscles next, something I had been working on for years, and my only hope of getting my money and height back.

Another hand was dealt to me and I immediately realized how terrible it was. Folding wasn't an option, so I tried the best I could to gain the advantage, but when the dealer took his turn, I realized I was outmatched. My body started to burn as the muscles I had built up started to disappear like a deflating balloon. I stood up from the table, not only poor but also short and scrawny now. "Another hand, sir?" The dealer asked as I turned to leave. "I got nothing more," I told him, picking up my jacket. "Of course you do, you could put your masculinity as the bet," he told me as if it were the most normal thing possible. "What? What happens if I lose, then?" I asked, confused. "Then we take your masculinity, leaving you only with femininity," he explained nonchalantly as he idly shuffled the cards. "Fuck it," I said, sitting back down and putting my manhood on the line.

To no one's surprise, I lost the round and felt my body start to change as my debts were settled. My chest started to grow flabby as fat packed onto it. Mounds formed beneath my shirt as generous and perky tits started to strain against my clothes. My waist narrowed, giving contrast to my growing hips, which fought my shoulders for width, winning out in the end. My thighs and rear expanded with mass, lifting my petite frame up from the chair. My hair grew to my shoulder, styling itself into a bob with a side braid before turning a dark purple. I grabbed at my face with my delicate hands as I felt it reshape to give me more of a cutesy appeal.

The dealer just looked at me, unperturbed about the girl sitting at his table, who was a man mere seconds ago. "You have to change me back," I pleaded, my voice more adorable than anything, "I can't go back to my life like this!" "You could go into debt," he told me, "But I wouldn't recomme-" "Another hand!" I cut him off, pleaded for him to deal me a good set of cards. I held them in my tiny hands, my mind racing as I calculated moves, but to no avail. Lost hand after lost hand continued until the dealer cut me off. "Ma'am, I can't let you keep playing until you pay off some of your debt," he said sternly before calling over the pit boss, "This young lady has quite a bit of debt, could you show her to Tony?" He nodded and took my hand, my nonexistent strength unable to stop him as he practically dragged me to the back office.

Now, a month later, I was forced to wear this ridiculous costume. I was still unused to my center of balance. Add on a pair of heels, and I could hardly walk, which resulted in more drinks on customers' laps than in their hands. You would expect contempt when you spill something on someone, but instead, they ogled me. When I bent over to pick up the glass, I could feel their eyes burrowing into my ass or down my top; it made me wish they had contempt for me instead.

Combine a body that had every jiggle remind you how dysphoric you were, and add on the prospect of years worth of debt repayment, it's no wonder I wasn't smiling as much as they wanted. I left Tony's office and headed for the bar to pick up more drinks, still stumbling a bit after an entire month. I passed multiple patrons who admired my curves, but I could only reply with a smile that my eyes portrayed, lest the casino reshape my mind to be their perfect cocktail waitress, permanently cementing my new life by removing any will to go back.