The Calamity of Cosa Casino, or The House Always Wins (Inanimate TF, Expansion, Bunnygirlification, An Inconvenient Truth) (Patreon)

(If confused, consider reading The Haunting of Hill Hotel.)

The tires of the convertible screeched as it slammed into the parking lot, almost throwing its passengers over the windshield in the process. 

“Jesus Christ, Jackie,” said Kitty, in the backseat. “D’you see another turtle you wanted to kill or something? What’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You were the one who wanted to get here quicker,” said Jacklyn, looking back at her with a scowl. “Maybe I just got sick of your whining. Jesus Christ.” 

Next to Kitty, Clair crossed herself. “D-don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”

“If your plan was to get us here quickly via speeding, you should know it’s an ineffective strategy,” said Penny, pushing her glasses up her nose. “After accounting for traffic lights, it will take the same time on average to reach your destination as if you’d followed the speed limit.” 

“Shut up, Penny,” said Jacklyn. 

“Yeah, shut up, Penny,” said Kitty. “Who asked for your advice anyway, you smug fucking nerd? Don’t you know how boring you sound?” 

Dolly slumped against the back of the passenger seat, snoring.

“See? Look what you’ve done to Doll.” 

Penny scowled. “Actually, I’m starting to worry about her,” she said, giving Dolly a curious poke in the eye. “Has one of you been slipping her sleeping pills?” 

“Please,” said Kitty. “If any of us had sleeping pills, we’d be taking them to avoid listening to you!” 

“Yeah, you tell her,” said Jacklyn. 

“Don’t you tell me to tell her, you lunatic! You almost drove us into a wall, remember?”  

Dolly’s head slipped from the passenger seat and struck the car door with a loud clunk. Only Clair seemed to notice.

Jacklyn folded her arms. “Look, we’re all alive, aren’t we?” 

Clair, leaning over Kitty’s lap, tried to shake Dolly awake, without success. “Dolly?” 

“No harm, no foul, right?” 

“D-Dolly?!” 

“Said Nero, once they’d put out the fire.” 

“Shut up, Penny. Jesus Christ.”

“D-don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”  

At last, Jacklyn threw off her seatbelt (she was the only wearing one, of course), and kicked open the car door. “Whatever,” she said. “Look, if you guys wanna stay in the car and argue, that’s fine. But I’m going into the casino.” 

“C-casino?” said Clair, face paling. “I thought we were heading to church.” She held up her Bible. “It’s Sunday!” 

Jacklyn, Kitty, and Penny all exchanged a look. “There’s…” started Jacklyn.

“...a church…” added Penny. 

“...in the casino?” finished Kitty.

“Oh,” said Clair, lowering the Good Book. “Oh, well, that’s okay then.” 

Rolling her eyes, Jacklyn slammed the car door. 

Dolly snapped upright with a startled squeak. “I had the strangest dream,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “There was a hotel and Dracula and evil puppets, and Jesus was in it too.” 

Clair practically threw herself at her. “Tell me.” 

“Tell her inside. Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“D-don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!” 

*

The casino floor rang with the ringing of slots, the shuffling of cards, and the occasional bang of someone losing at roulette. Bunnygirls, their gigantic boobs and behinds squeezed into the tightest costumes known to woman, sauntered from table to machine, serving drinks, offering advice, and generally giving most of the male clientele erections. The air stank of cigarettes and alcohol, with a faint tang of desperation. 

Jacklyn and co. stood on the threshold as if they were about to storm no-man’s land. “So, quick question,” said Jacklyn, letting one of the bunnygirls past. “Have any of you ever actually been in a casino before?” 

“No,” said Dolly. 

“No,” said Kitty. 

“Yes,” said Clair.

“No,” said Penny. “But I read a great book about it once.” 

“Okay, well, I’m just asking because… Look: I’ve never been in a casino before either. I have no idea how any of this works. And if none of you do either…” She turned to Penny. “You read a book? Fine, you’re the expert. Tell us what to do.” 

Penny, who delighted in nothing more than telling people what to do, grinned a smug grin and pushed her spectacles a little farther up her nose. “Well, it’s really simple,” she said, “you…” She paused, trying to remember the details of the book she’d read. It had been such a long time ago, and she’d only really been interested in the mathematics of it, but…

The others were staring at her. She coughed. “There’s a trick you can do. With, um, cards. And counting. It’ll help you win,” she added, when she saw they weren’t getting it. 

Jacklyn and Kitty nodded sagely. “Well, we definitely want to win,” said Jacklyn, rubbing her chin. “So, this card counting thing. How do you do it?” 

A plume of cigar smoke blew into their faces. A firm hand settled on Jacklyn’s shoulder. “Did I hear this is the first time you fine ladies have ever stepped into an establishment of the gambling sort?” 

As one, the five of them turned. And who should be standing there but Al Capone himself, wearing a fine suit and smoking a cigar. 

Thunder cracked. The five of them screamed so hard they almost leapt out of their boots. 

“Woah, woah,” said Al, holding up his hands. “Woah, calm down, girls. I did not mean to cause you unnecessary alarm.” He offered them a hand. “My name is Monty Casino.” He tapped his cigar on the sleeve of a passing waitress. 

“Wow, the Monty Casino,” said Dolly. Penny looked confused. 

“You’re the owner?” asked Kitty. 

“Oh no, no, do not mistake me,” said Monty, holding up his hands. “I am just what you would call the manager. The actual owner is a very fine, very respectable businessman with many big ideas for the improvement of this country. He once ran for the esteemed position of US President, as it happens.” 

The five of them stood there, shuffling uncomfortably. They’d never been much into politics. “Who’s that?” asked Kitty, at last. 

“Al Gore.” 

Coughing, Monty led them out of the entranceway and into the casino proper. “Now, you fine ladies are all over the age of twenty-one, is that correct?” 

“Well, all of us except–” 

“Very good. Now, before I send you off to enjoy Cosa Casino’s many amusing games, I would like to draw your attention to this very large sign which you will find on all of our floors. Can you see it?” He pointed up. The five of them squinted: the sign was very large, but the lighting made it hard to read anyway. 

Rule 1: You Break Our Trust, We Make You Dust

Rule 2: Pay Your Debts, or We Take Away Your Pets

Rule 3: Step Outta Bounds, and We Put You in the Ground

Rule 4: No Smoking in the Lobby

Rule 5: Pay Up, or We Put You Down

“Capiche?” said Monty. 

The five of them stared at him. “Pardon?”

He squinted. “Capiche?” 

“What is that?” asked Kitty. 

“It sounds like a vegetable.” 

“I think it’s French,” said Penny. 

“Do you understand?” said Monty. 

“Not really.”

“Do you understand the rules?!” 

They all shrugged. “Sure,” said Jacklyn, with a shrug. “So, anything else? Or can we, I dunno, start playing…?” 

Monty Casino smiled thinly. “Of course, of course,” he said, snapping his fingers to summon a squad of bunnygirls. “My delightful bunnies will help guide the five of you on your wonderful trip through the world of legalized gambling.” 

“Sounds good to me,” said Jacklyn. “Where are the machines with the slots? What do you call them? That’s what I wanna try.” 

“Right this way,” said Monty, pointing her to a bunny.  

Penny frowned. She supposed she should try that trick with the cards. It was meant to help you win, right? “Do you have a poker table?”

“Of course, of course. Please, let Davine here escort you to that location.” 

Kitty squinted at the nearest bunnygirl’s tits. “Jesus,” she said, jabbing one with a finger. “Are these things even real?” 

“Poker it is,” said Monty. “Take her with you too, Davine. Now, as for you…” Dolly yawned, looking like she’d collapse at any second. “Perhaps one of you girls would like to escort her to the bar?” 

Nodding, a bunny placed her hands on Dolly’s shoulders and subtly guided her away.

Finally, Monty turned to Clair. “Now, which of our establishment’s varied entertainments piques your interest, my little cattolico?” 

Clair hugged the Bible to her chest. “Does this casino have a chapel?” 

“Why, certainly. Second floor, by the roulette table. We find it helps reduce the suicides.” 

**

The slot machines went clunk-clunk-click and then woo wooo woooo woooo woooo, and then finally they did both at the same time and also kinda added this ringing to it, probably to let people know about the money pouring out, just in case they’d missed it, y’know. 

“Here you are, the one-armed bandits,” said the bunnygirl, all but pressing Jacklyn into the nearest open seat. 

“Thanks,” she said, a little uncomfortably. Something about the lighting in this place was really messing with her head. 

“If you need anything, simply call me,” said the bunny. And with that, she turned and marched away, her little cotton tail wiggling over her massive, jiggling ass.

Jacklyn was so entranced she completely forgot she had no idea how to use a machine with slots. “Okay, Jackie,” she said, turning back to it with a gulp. “Time to use your brains for once.” 

She stared at the machine, which looked like it had been stolen from a fruit factory. Were those lemons? And what was the lever for? She almost found herself looking for a spout to put her glass under. 

Swallowing, she flicked a glance to her right, where a seemingly endless row of men and women like herself sat slipping coins into the machine’s mouth and pulling the lever on the side to make the lemons and horseshoes and giant sevens spin. Sometimes, when the barrels stopped, the machines would go ding and vomit out a bunch of coins. So that all seemed pretty simple, she guessed. 

Rummaging in her purse, she pulled out a big golden dollar and slipped it into the machine’s mouth. Ka-clunk! Setting the bet to the appropriate amount, she reached for the lever and squeezed the ball at the end tight. Here goes… one dollar, I guess. She pulled. 

The slots stopped on a trio of sixes, bright red. With a cacophonous dinging sound, coins spewed out of the machine, overflowing the tray and landing in her lap. “Holy shit,” cried Jacklyn, almost falling out of her chair. 

The man beside her snorted. “Beginner’s luck.” 

Jacklyn struggled to gather her winnings. “Holy shit,” she repeated. She hadn’t actually expected to win. 

Plucking one of the giant golden dollars from the pile, she slipped it back into the machine and pulled the lever again.

Once more, it landed on three sixes. Coins filled her lap, spilling off onto the floor. 

Scrambling to snatch them all up, Jacklyn found her heart beating in a way it never had before, not even before a tense quarter-final. “Holy shit, I’m so lucky.” Slipping back into her chair, she stared at the machine. “Maybe… Maybe I should raise my bet.” 

Behind her, someone wept uncontrollably. 

*

Penny and Kitty threw each other glares as the bunny named Davine guided them to the poker table. 

“What the hell are you following me for?” snapped Kitty, throwing Penny some knife-sharp looks. 

“I’m not following you! I set off first! You’re the one who’s following, you intolerable trogdo–” 

“The poker table,” said Davine, coming to an abrupt stop. She spread her arms. 

Kitty and Penny stopped fighting to stare. At the table were seated five people. One of them, the bunnygirl wearing a green eyeshade and shuffling the cards, was evidently the dealer. 

To her left sat a tall, scrawny young man in a sweat-sodden t-shirt. “Oh God…” he moaned, trembling. “Oh God, this can’t be happening.” Even as they watched, he turned green, grabbed a paper bag, and threw up. 

To his left sat a man in a cowboy hat. And cowboy boots, complete with spurs, which he had up on the table. In one hand, he held a cigarette. In the other, a revolver. Both were smoking. “Raise ‘em or fold, you slimy son of a bitch.” 

“Oh God, oh God, why did I ever come here? Why…?” 

And to the cowboy’s left was a dog. “Woof.” 

Kitty and Penny shared a confused look. 

“I raise, I raise,” said the nervous man at last.

“I call,” said the cowboy.

“Woof,” said the dog. 

With a small nod, the dealer placed three cards in the center of the table. 

The nervous man’s head struck the table too. Sobbing, he pounded against it. 

Penny risked a glance over his shoulder. Now, she didn’t know much about Poker, but by her estimation, his hand couldn’t have been weaker if it were made of salami. 

“I fold,” said the cowboy, tossing his cards with a grunt of disgust.

“Woof,” said the dog.

Without a word, the dealer pushed the pot towards the dog. 

As the dealer collected all the cards and reshuffled the deck, the cowboy turned to them, twirling the chamber of his revolver. “If you girls are gonna join in, you better do it fast.” 

Kitty and Penny rather hurriedly took the seats to his left.

“Is that a dog?” asked Kitty, as she made herself comfy. 

“That’s correct, ma’am,” replied the cowboy. 

“Dogs can play poker?” 

“Ain’t no rule says they can’t.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“You’re telling me. The worst part is, he’s winning.” laughtrack

“Woof.” 

“Before we begin,” said the dealer, “I should warn you: at this casino, we play a rather unusual variant of Poker.”

“How unusual?” asked Kitty. 

Drawing a knife, the dealer cut the cards. 

“Ah.” 

“You girls up for a little game of Texan Wild Cards?” asked the cowboy, feeding a carrot to his horse. 

The two of them exchanged a look. “Perhaps it would be best if we found a slightly more, er, beginner-friendly game,” said Penny. 

Kitty’s eyes tightened. “What’s the matter, nerd? You chickening out already? Where’s that famous technique of yours now, huh? You afraid I’m gonna kick the stuffing outta ya?” 

Penny’s eyes tightened too. “What did you call me, you son of a–?” 

“You heard me,” said Kitty. 

The cowboy played a tense tune on his harmonica. 

Throwing Kitty a final snarl, Penny slapped the table. “Hit me!” 

The dealer looked confused. “I haven’t finished shuffling yet.” 

“Oh.” Penny blushed. “Well, whenever you’re ready, anyway.” 

“Woof.” 

*

The sound of bottles clinking snapped Dolly out of her daydream. Sitting up, she looked around blearily. “Huh. I was having the strangest dream.” 

Behind the bar, a bunnygirl looked at her kindly. “What kinda dream were you having havin’, sugar? Any hot men in it?” She winked. 

Dolly thought about this for a second. “Well, there was Barack Obama.” 

“I ain’t judgin, I ain’t judgin’” said the bunny, studiously polishing a glass. “You want something to drink?”

“To drink?” Sitting up, Dolly looked around and realized she was in a bar. This was a strange scenario for her–normally she fell asleep in the bar and woke up somewhere else: in her male friends’ bedroom, in her female friends’ bedrooms, in dumpsters or on park benches. Once, she’d woken up in the meerkat enclosure of the Cincinnati Zoo. She still had the phone number of the keeper who’d rescued her. 

“That’s why most people come here,” said the bartender. “Well, that and cryin’, but most of them sort go to the chapel up on second now.” 

In the distance, someone wailed in despair. Dolly stared blankly at the bartender. 

“Anyway, what can I get ya?” 

“Hmm…” said Dolly. Well, if she were here, she should probably get something. It was pretty early in the day though, and they’d skipped breakfast to get to the casino early, so she should probably start off with something light. 

“Gimme a shot of vodka,” she said, slamming her purse on the counter.

*

With a carillon of dinging, the slot machine disgorged another bellyful of coins, spewing them all over Jacklyn’s lap like a drunk’s vomit. She’d stolen a hat from the man in the trenchcoat next to her and was using it as a bucket now. Already, it was overflowing with lucre. 

As the coins at last stopped flowing, she sat back and took a deep breath to calm herself. She couldn’t believe she was doing so well. She never had this much luck, not even on the soccer field. 

Looking down at the hat in her lap, she picked it up with much effort. It was heavy, really. What were you supposed to do when you won big in a casino like this? She was sure her dad had told her the optimum thing to do was… Hmm… Something something bet it all and win big? 

Grinning, she raised the bet as high as it would go and fed the machine coins as if it were a hungry dog. Soon, her hat was empty. Plopping it on her head, she adjusted the brim and rubbed her hands eagerly. “Alright, here goes nothing!” she pulled the lever; the slots started to spin.

With a dull ding, the slots came to a stop, and Jacklyn found herself staring at three bars of dark chocolate. How bittersweet. The machine spat out a handful of dollars, but it wasn’t anything compared to the bank vault she’d stuffed into it to start.

She realized she was sweating. “Okay, Jackie, hold it together. Everything’s still okay. All ya gotta do is win it back, right? Just try again, that’s what your dad used to say, right? Just try again. Don’t give up–that’s loser talk, Jacklyn. Loser talk!” Her vigor restored, she hurried to feed the coins straight back into the machine, pulled the lever once more, and sat back to watch the prizes roll in. 

Ding! Three cauliflowers. A much reduced pile of coins rattled into the tray.

A big bead of sweat dripped from Jacklyn’s brow. Removing her hat, she fanned herself with a gulp. Was it just her, or was it getting hotter in here? “Okay, Jackie. Jack, Jack, Jacklyn. Just try again, alright? You’ve still got lots of money left. You can still win it all back. You don’t need to quit just yet. Just give it one last try, and then you’re good! You’ll win it all back, that’s right. Third time’s the charm, third time’s th-the charm.” (Was it actually her third time? Who was counting?) “Just go for it, Jackie!” 

Forcing the last of her coins back in, she pulled the lever and watched in horror as the slots came back mismatched. Cantaloupe, eggplant, and a basket of muffins. And only one of them was even on the payline! 

It took several seconds for Jacklyn to realize what she’d just done. “Oh God. Oh, God, what have I done…?” Don’t take the Lord’s name in– “Shut up, Clair!” 

Heart pounding, she turned to the man in the trenchcoat beside her and shook him out of his coma. “Hey, hey! Can I borrow a dollar?! Please, just the one! Just one dollar!” 

He looked at her like she were a hobo begging for drink money. “What do I look like, a banker? Go sell a kidney if you want more dough.” Seeing her face, his own expression softened. “Look, you can borrow my vomit bag if you want.” Her offered her a paper bag. 

She took it. 

Once she was done, she turned her attention back to the machine and sat there staring at it for several minutes, unable to believe what had happened. Not only had she blown all the money she’d brought here, but she’d also lost all her early winnings too. And there was no was way she could win it all back. She had nothing left to gamble. 

“Nothing left to gamble?” said a voice over the intercom; Jacklyn’s head snapped up. “Remember: if you ever run out of cash, all you gotta do is push the handy-dandy button marked ‘LOAN’, and we’ll lend you as much money as you need, so you can keep gambling for as long as you want!” They mumbled something else, but Jacklyn couldn’t make it out. 

Breathing hard now, she scanned the machine for the loan button and punched it as hard as she could. 

A single dollar appeared in her credit box. Frowning, she punched the button again and again. Each time the amount it gave her was larger, and within half a minute she’d bashed her way up to a respectable loan of $1,000,000. 

Grabbing the bandit’s arm, she gave it a tug. To her delight, the slots started to spin again. 

Jacklyn practically punched the air. She had one last chance! One last chance to win it all back! One last chance! One last chance! One last–

With a flatulent brrrt!, the slots stopped on a crowbar, a six, and lime. None of them were even close to the payline. 

For several seconds, Jacklyn simply stared at it. Then, without a word, she slipped out of her chair and tapped the man in the trenchcoat on the shoulder. “Can I borrow your coat?” Seeing her expression, he handed it to her without protest. 

Pulling up the collar and pulling down the brim of her hat, Jacklyn plucked a pair of shades from her purse, put them on, and turned and strolled in the direction of the exit, humming to herself as she walked. 

A battalion of bunnies caught her three paces from the slots. “And where is it you think you are taking a walk to?” said Monty Casino, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “In most cultures, it is considered quite rude to leave without paying the money you owe. Or at least leaving a polite IOU.” 

Jacklyn practically melted. “Th-the bank,” she said, shaking like a pudding. “I j-just wanted to get some more money from the bank!” 

Monty’s expression softened. “Oh, well. In that case, allow myself and my delightful bunnies to escort you out back, where we maintain our own special ATM exclusively for customers in a situation like yourself.” 

Jacklyn’s grin was faker than Kitty’s tan. “R-really?” she said. “That’s pretty convenient.” Not that she had any more money in the bank than she had in her purse–she’d already withdrawn everything she had.

“Is it,” said Monty. “It is.” He snapped. 

A pair of bunnies grabbed her arms. Jacklyn didn’t resist as they dragged her off the floor.

*

The dealer flipped the board with an unreadable expression. 

The nervous man slumped, weeping. “I fold,” he said, tossing his cards with a moan of despair.

The cowboy chewed on his cigar and pushed up his hat with the barrel of his revolver. “I fold.” 

“Woof,” said the dog. Notably, he didn’t toss his cards, though exactly how he held onto them was beyond Kitty’s power to answer. 

She exchanged a look with Penny. “I… raise?” she said. 

Penny’s expression was impossible to read. “I raise too,” she said. 

With a nod from the dealer, they all revealed their hands. And naturally the dog had a Royal fucking Flush. “Woof.” 

As the dealer pushed it the pot and took back all their cards, Kitty and Penny settled back in their seats and sighed. “This isn’t quite as fun as I was hoping it would be,” said Kitty. 

“Ma…” The nervous man cradled the phone to his face and wept. “Ma, look, I… No, no Ma, don’t– Please, Ma, don’t– Look, Ma, you’re going to have to sell another kidney.” 

“Speak for yourself,” said Penny. “I’ve got a Technique, remember?” 

Kitty squinted at her. “Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re an expert. Well, go on, then, Penny. If you’ve got a trick, why don’t you go ahead and use it? Go ahead and win.” 

“Alright,” said Penny. “I will!” 

“Good!” 

“Good!” 

“Good!” 

Penny turned to the dealer with a snarl. “Hit me!” 

“I haven’t even started cutting,” said the dealer, sparks flying from her grindwheel. 

Penny huffed. 

Five minutes later, the dealer had cut the cards, tapped them back together, loaded the dice, set up the Monopoly board, and finished resetting the Mousetrap. They were ready to play. 

Setting back into his seat, the nervous man took a deep breath. The cowboy spun the cylinder of his revolver. The dog barked, looking as if it wanted a treat. Kitty and Penny stared daggers at one another.

“Bets please,” said the dealer. 

Trembling, the nervous man offered her a jar with something pulsing in it. The cowboy threw her a burlap sack marked with a big dollar sign, and the dog literally tossed her a bone. Kitty and Penny settled for a hundred bucks each, since they were clearly in the big leagues. Taking their bets, the dealer pushed them their chips. 

This done, she reached for the deck and tossed them each two cards. Kitty got the Ace of Spades and the Tower. Penny received the Six of Spades and Dark Magician Girl. 

“Go fish,” said the dealer. 

Kitty and Penny exchanged one last nervous look. 

Okay, here goes nothing, thought Penny. Time to try that card counting strategy. She took a deep breath and scanned the table. One card… Two cards… Three cards… Um, four… How many cards were in a deck again? Forty-two?

Kitty, on the other hand, shuffled nervously. She might not be as smart as Penny, but she definitely had more money. One of them was going to bust tonight, but it wasn’t going to be her. 

…Casinos did take credit, right? 

*

Five rounds of intense Poker later, of tight expressions, of raising and folding and calling and colding and upgrading houses to hotels, the trap finally fell on the mouse, and it came to the final round. 

“Oh God… Oh God, oh mom, what have I done…?” Snatching up his bag, the nervous man vomited into it loudly. “I fold! I fold!” 

The cowboy saddled up his horse and clambered onto it with a sigh. “I fold,” he said, tossing his hand into the muck. 

Everyone looked to the dog. “Woof,” it said, holding tight to its cards. 

Kitty squirmed as the dealer’s attention turned to her. “I… call?” She had the Ace of Spades,  the Tower, Blue Eyes White Dragon, Osiris, and a signed Methuselah. …That was a pretty good hand, right?

All eyes turned to Penny. “...I call too.” 

One by one, the three of them revealed their cards. Penny had the Six of Spades, Dark Magician Girl, one of the Jokers, a 1914 Babe Ruth Rookie, the Wheel of Fortune, and a picture of a chicken.  

“How do you have six cards?” asked Kitty.

Penny looked like she could cry. “I lost count.”

The dog had five Black Lotuses. “Woof.” 

“Motherfucker,” said Kitty, as the dealer pushed it the pot. “How does he keep doing that?” 

“Well, ladies,” said the cowboy, adjusting his hat. “I hope you have fun, but I’ve lost enough gold for one night. Call me if y’ever fancy huntin’ some banditos. Yee-haw!” He snapped the reins and charged for the exit, crashing straight through a craps table in the process. 

The nervous man swung from the rafters above. 

“What do you think, Penny?” said Kitty, eyeing the dog, which seemed as happy to keep playing as ever. “Up for another round?” 

“I… I think it would be better if we called it quits,” she said, slipping out of her chair. “Come on, let’s get out of here before we really regret it.” 

Kitty nodded. She didn’t really want to stick around either.

“Excuse me,” said a familiar voice. A pair of firm hands settled on their shoulders. “But I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave without first investigating the terrible rumors surrounding this table.” 

Kitty and Penny froze. “T-terrible rumors?” they said, almost in sync. 

“I am afraid we have been receiving reports of the terrible sin known to our fair casino as ‘card counting’,” said Monty, adjusting his tie. “I imagine it goes without saying, but if we were to determine such a crime had occurred at this table, we would have to punish the person responsible very harshly indeed.” 

Penny paled. “I-I don’t– I mean, I might have done a little counting, but I didn’t even use a calculator, I just–” 

Monty snapped his fingers, and a quarter of bunnygirls grabbed them by the arms. 

“W-wait! What did I do?” cried Kitty. 

“Your credit card declined,” said Monty with a shrug. 

“W-wait!” Penny squirmed and struggled. “This is all a big mistake! I wasn’t cheating, I swear!” 

Monty raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But I am afraid we have some very reliable testimony from one of our most valued customers.” 

He stepped aside, revealing the dog, which was chewing smugly on a brand-new bone. “Woof.”

“Take them out back,” said Monty, turning and marching away. 

The bunnies tightened their grip. Kitty and Penny squealed as they dragged them away.

“You traitorous bitch!” cried Kitty, shaking her fist at the dog. “You biiiiitch!” 

“Woof.” 

*

“And so I said to the man ‘what’s with the outfit… you look like a zookeeper!” Throwing back, her head, Dolly laughed loud and wildly and swallowed another shot of vodka. Slamming the glass onto the bar, she gave the bartender a grin. “Fill her up, my good man.” 

“I think you’ve had enough, sugar,” said the bartender, peeling the shot glass out of Dolly’s sticky fingers. 

“Aw, come ooooooon,” said Dolly. “I’m just trying to have a good–” She hiccuped. “--a good night out with my friends.” 

“You’re on your own,” said the bartender. “And it’s ten thirty in the morning.” 

“I’m all alone?” said Dolly, big tears forming in her eyes. “I’m all aloooooone?!” 

The bartender sighed and poured her another shot. 

“Cheers, luv,” said Dolly, downing it in one. Exhaling a sodden, vodka-laden breath, she slumped, resting her head in her arm and twirling a long blonde lock with her finger. “Y’know, I wonder what my friends are up to. I bet they’re having a–” Hic! “--ton of fun…” 

A squad of bunnygirls dragged a squirming, pleading Kitty and Penny past the bar and into the backroom. One of them had a baseball bat. 

Dolly and the bartender exchanged a glance. “Check please.” 

*

Jacklyn squirmed in the bunnygirls’ grip as they carried her off the floor and into the backroom, which was a lot more sparsely decorated, to say the least: cinder block walls with poorly-applied cement, exposed pipes, a single flickering lightbulb. Cold air, and the undeniable scent of damp. 

And a row of wooden chairs. Dumping her into one, they bound her wrists to the backrest. 

Jacklyn whimpered. “Please don’t break my ankles! My coach’ll kill me if I can’t make the playoffs!” 

No sooner had she been seated than a second squad of bunnies dragged in a struggling Kitty and Penny. 

“L-let go of me!” cried Kitty. “When my dad hears about this, he’s going to sue you for everything! Nobody declines his credit card and gets away with it!” 

Penny stared blankly ahead, counting something beneath her breath. “7… 8… 9 bunnies! Ah-hah-hah!” 

“Is that all of them?” said Monty, taking a stern puff of his cigar.

A final bunny dragged a snoozing Dolly down the corridor and tossed her into a chair as well. As they bound her wrists, she snapped away with a moan. “I owe–” Hic! “–how much?”  

“You four unfortunate women are in, as they say, a serious pile of defecation,” said Monty Casino. “Do you remember our wholesome establishment’s rules?” 

When they shook their heads, he snapped, and a bunny wheeled in a large sign bearing them.

Rule 1: You Break Our Trust, We Make You Dust

Rule 2: Pay Your Debts, or We Take Away Your Pets

Rule 3: Step Outta Bounds, and We Put You in the Ground

Rule 4: The Red Zone is for Immediate Loading and Unloading of Passengers Only. There’s No Stopping in the White Zone 

Rule 5: Pay Up, or We Put You Down

“Evidently, you did not capiche,” he said somberly. 

“We don’t know what that means!” cried Jacklyn. 

“Do you understand.” 

“We don’t!” 

Scowling, Monty snapped his fingers. “Fetch the machine.” A couple of bunnies hurried off. Jacklyn and the others could only sit there and shiver in terror. 

Soon enough, the bunnies returned, wheeling ahead of them a gigantic raygun, covered in gubbins and wires.  

“Wh-what’s that?” asked Kitty, shivering in her bindings. 

“This, my esteemed guest, is the Legbreaker 3000. We’ve come a long way since the bad old days with the brass knuckles and the baseball bats.” 

“You’re going to shoot us?” cried Penny. 

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” said Monty. “Unfortunately for you unfortunate ladies, this device allows us to get rather more… let us say, ‘creative’... than was previously possible.” He lit a fresh cigar with a click. “Why don’t we start with our talented football star?” 

“E-eh? M-Me?” cried Jacklyn, as the bunnies grabbed her chair and moved it into the firing line of the machine. “What did I do…? What did I doooo?” 

“You, my unfortunate athlete, happen to owe our organization rather a lot of money. Unless you happen to be carrying $1,000,000 dollars in those short shorts of yours?” 

“I-I can double-check…!”

Monty shook his head sadly. “Fire her up, my fine women. Give her a taste of cold electricity.” 

“W-wait!” cried Jacklyn as they aimed the raygun at her chest. “Wait! Wait! Don’t–! I–” 

A bunny depressed the lever with a click, and a bolt of prismatic lightning flew from the gun and straight into Jacklyn’s tits. She screamed, throwing back her head and rocking side to side in her chair as the energy of it coursed through her.

“Jacklyn!” cried Penny and Kitty. Dolly simply stared. 

Jacklyn’s bindings unspooled themselves on their own, and like chocolate in the sun, her short shorts and her blouse and her jacket all ran from her body. Pouring down her skin, they puddled around her feet in a bubbling mass of liquid fabric and then–just as suddenly as they’d fallen–shot back up and reformed around her. …As a tightly-fitted red bunnygirl’s outfit, complete with fluffy ears and a cute cotton tail. Jacklyn squealed as the bodysuit dug into her asscrack. 

Like a soldier whose commanding officer had just stepped into the building, she leapt to her feet and snapped to attention, one arm extended, while the other rested against her sides. 

Just as suddenly as she’d risen, she squatted, legs folded, her butt just above the floor. Her one arm remained out, while the other squished against her side, pressed tight. Her teeth chattered with the energy coursing through them. 

From all angles came an incredible pressure, as if she’d been dropped into a crusher and squished her into a cube. Her legs fused together, forming a single large block, while her left arm disappeared into her torso, smushed into her side. Her buttcheeks and her back flattened till they were smooth as well, and her breasts, never generous, became a hard cliff-face between her chin and her knees. Only her nipples remained poking out of them, larger than ever, if anything. They tingled, hyper-sensitive, in the cold air of the room.

“Wh-what’s h-happening t-to mmmphf?!” Her voice cut off as her mouth stretched into a large if rather rectangular smile. No matter how hard she tried to close it, she couldn’t even reduce it to half its size. 

As she fought to close her lips, the compression of her head picked up speed. With a clang, her head collapsed into a boxy shape flush with her crushed torso and legs. Only her arm remained normal now, and it wasn’t to stay that way for long. As she watched in terror, her hand puffed into a large ball at the end and the rest of it collapsed into a simple metal rod, thin as her vanished fingers. She tried to scream, but she was no longer able. 

Her bunnysuit, already wrapped tight around her altered body, suddenly suckered to her skin and fused with it entirely, leaving only a colorful coating of paint. Her hair flattened into her head as a similar layer of color, and her eyes snapped shut as her teeth stretched to fill her face. Down below, her nipples grew into a pair of large buttons. ‘BET’ read one. ‘HELP’ read the other. Beneath them, the zip of her fly opened to reveal a metal tray. At the top was a thin slit into which you could insert your coins. 

Finally, a series of familiar symbols appeared on her teeth: bars, cherries, lemons, and sevens, and more. And as one they started to spin, faster and faster and faster, until–

With a ding!, they snapped to a stop: three lemons. Jacklyn could only scream inside. What have you done to me?! 

Besides her, Kitty and Penny screamed too. Dolly looked like she thought she was still in a dream. 

“Perhaps one of your girls would like to test our latest slot machine,” said Monty, plucking a large golden dollar from his jacket. He handed it to the nearest bunny, who marched over and slipped it into Jacklyn’s slot without a word. Jacklyn screamed in pleasure–it felt as if it had been stuck right in her–

The bunny grabbed her arm and pulled it, and with a clunk, Jacklyn’s teeth started to spin. She squealed as a terrible pleasure flared in her gut, growing stronger and stronger as her slots spun and her lights flashed and her bells rang, until at last–

Clunk! Three lemons! As coins spilled out of her pussy, Jacklyn orgasmed with a silent yet deafening scream. Nnnnnn~! Ah! 

*

Penny stared, trembling in horror, as the last of the coins spilled out of her former-friend-turned-slot machine. 

Bending down, the bunnygirl reached in and picked one, turning it to show her boss, almost proudly. He cocked his head and chuckled. “Perfect. Take her and put her with the rest of them in the location where the slot machines are placed.” 

As the bunnies hauled Jacklyn off, Monty turned his attention to Penny herself. “Now that we have dealt with our largest debtor, I believe it is time to deal with our clever little card counter.” 

“Please!” she cried, her eyes wide in terror. “Please, I’ll never count anything again, not even my chickens! I’ll smash my abacus! I’ll take up writing science fiction! Please…” 

Monty shook his head. “Set her up.” 

Bunnies grabbed Penny’s chair and guided it into the firing line of the Legbreaker. “N-no! No! Wait!” she cried. “Wait, please! I–” 

With a click, the raygun fired. Penny screamed as the beam struck her. 

Untying her bindings, it whipped her up out of her chair and into the air, where it held her twitching and moaning, a puppet dancing to the twists of its own pleasure. Struggling to escape, Penny could only squeal as her skirt and frumpy sweater melted, spiraling around her body in a liquid river of cloth, before recongealing as a tight, light green bunnygirl outfit, complete with a puffy white tail and enormous ears. She squeaked even louder when the bodysuit pulled tight, biting into her sex so hard it threatened to split her in half. “Nnnn~! What are you–?” 

She felt a pressure in her boobs, as if someone had forced a pair of balloons into her chest and were in the middle of blowing them up. Even as she squealed and struggled to grab them, she received a very similar notification from her butt. Cupping her bust, she looked back over her shoulder and squealed to see her asscheeks rising like freshly-baked bread, making the skin of her new clothes twitch as it strained to hold them in. Her bodysuit wasn’t having much more luck with her boobs–all she could do was hold them tight, hold them tight and moan as they swelled, bloating to ludicrous size. 

By the time the swelling stop, she had an hourglass figure and then some, several generous helpings of curves and a nice pair of nipples for dessert. She moaned as they threatened to pop out of her bodysuit. 

Down on the ground, Monty chuckled. “Penny!” cried Kitty. 

Penny’s moans turned to a scream as fresh terror assaulted her: as if she’d been caught in a giant vice, something slammed into her front and her back simultaneously, spreading her arms and her legs and flattening her outright. She tried to squirm, to move at all, but she couldn’t do it, not even by an inch. She felt like she’d been vacuum packed. 

Worse than her sudden immobility was the hyper-sensitivity. Even the mild breeze flowing through the backroom was enough to leave her screaming. 

Caught in the crusher, Penny continued to flattened till she was barely a millimeter thick. And as she did, something spilled from the edges of her thin new form: something like milk. Spreading, it formed a rectangle around her, where it hardened into a sheet of what might have been paper. With that, she started to shrink.

Fluttering to the floor, tiny and weightless, Penny moaned as one of the bunnies picked her up, the touch of her fingers inspiring a wild delight, greater than anything she’d ever felt before. T-touch me! she wanted to cry. Oh God, touch me harder! 

Giggling, the bunny turned her to face her friends.

*

Kitty could only stare at the awful object in horror. It looked a lot like a normal playing card, but instead of the king or the queen or the dark magician girl, or whatever, it had a picture of Penny. Penny, her figure thickened and wrapped in a tight bunnysuit, her arms and legs spread, her eyes rolling back in horror. 

Instead of a number, it had a big ‘L’, bright red. 

“Now,” said Monty Casino, as the bunnygirl slipped Penny into the deck. “Whatever shall we do with you, Ms. Declined Credit? ” 

Kitty trembled in terror. “I–I can pay you!” she cried. 

“Unfortunately, it is rather too late for that,” said Monty, shaking his head sadly. 

“Wh-what…? But the banks are still open! If you let me call my dad, he can wire me–” 

“No, I am afraid it is simply too late,” said Monty, as the bunnies moved Kitty’s chair into the path of the Legbreaker. 

“But it’s not even lunch yet!” 

Ignoring her, Monty jerked a thumb at the bunnies. “Zap her, boys.” 

“No!” cried Kitty. “Wait! Please don’t–!” 

With a click from the device’s controller, an electric rainbow flew from the device’s tip, crashed into Kitty’s generous chest, and dragged her squealing into the air, chair as all. Her ropes came unbound with a thin thwip, and it struck the floor with a clatter, leaving her kicking her legs and struggling feebly to escape. 

As Kitty thrashed, her clothing started to drip. Looking down, she moaned as it ran from her body, her tanktop and bra and short skirt and panties, high heels and tights and all her jewelry too. Clutching her naked figure, she squealed in terror. It wasn’t exactly a fresh experience for her, but still. 

Coiling around her in ribbons of liquid cloth, her clothing settled at last into the shape of a bright pink bunnygirl’s costume, so tight it almost hurt. Squealing, she struggled to rip off the ears, but it was like they’d been glued to her head. 

With a sound like a spring swinging back and forth, her boobs exploded, spilling over and under her arms and she fought to conceal them. With the clang of a bell, her ass thickened to three times its size and then some, clapping as it settled down again. She squealed. “Stop it! Stop! I’m not this much of a slut! I’m not a–” 

It was like someone had struck her with a giant hammer. Before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, she slammed into the ground, squashed to half-a-foot in thickness. She screamed as her tightly-packed nerves burned in pleasure. 

As she lay on the floor, wobbling from side to side like a dropped coin, Kitty’s sides hardened and thickened, assuming a bright pink shell with a handful of white stripes. With this, she started to shrink. 

By the time she stopped, she was no larger than one of the chips she’d bet back at the poker table. 

Which was appropriate for several reasons. 

*

As one of the bunnies picked up Kitty, Dolly stared, her eyes slowly closing, drool pouring from her lips. Only when the guy in the suit snapped did she jerk back to awareness, looking around and wondering what was happening. “E-eh? What’s going on?” 

“Show ‘er,” said Monty. The bunny held up the poker chip. 

Dolly squinted. One side showed Kitty’s face and hand and breasts, smushed against the plane of the chip as if against a sheet of glass. The other show Kitty’s butt and feet, equally squished, with her fat labia exposed by the bodysuit slicing tightly between them.

She stared at it for several seconds longer. “Oh, hey,” she said at last. “That’s Kitty!” 

“Yes, that is very much correct, my sleepy little friend. Incidentally, it is also a poker chip.” Taking it from the bunny, he flipped it like a coin and palmed it with a smile. “Now, what shall we do with you? You spent rather a lot more on drink that you are capable of paying, didn’t you?” 

“I did,” said Dolly, nodding eagerly. 

“However, I am not without mercy,” said Monty, clasping his hands. “As a sign of my immense magnanimity, I will allow you to choose the way in which you are silenced.” 

“Aw, thanks,” said Dolly, smiling dreamily. “I love it when the bad guys are–” Hic! “--kinda kind like that.” 

“So, what is your choice?” asked Monty. 

“Can I get a bottle of wine?” said Dolly. “I’d really love a big bottle of wine right, you know? Doesn’t have to be the expensive kind. Just whatever you’ve–” Hic! “--got.” 

Monty’s lips curled into a thin smile. “A bottle of wine it is,” he said, turning to his bunnies. “Ladies, if you would be so kind.” 

*

The rich melody of an organ caressed Clair’s ears as she strode into the chapel, Bible clutched to her chest. At the end of the aisle, a scene was playing out that she’d seen a lot and imagined even more often: a bride and a groom stood hand in hand, while the priest between them read the vows. 

Setting into a pew, Clair sighed in delight. Wasn’t it wonderful to see true love play out? 

“And do you, Randy Rodick, take Miss Candy Sweetlips to be your beloved wife?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” said the groom, blowing cigar smoke in the priest’s face. “I do, I do. Come on, get it over with.” 

The priest frowned. “Then, in the name of the Lord, I do pronounce you man and wife.” 

Clair burst into tears. Rising, she went to clap. 

Before she got a chance, the groom grabbed the bride’s dress by the bodice and tore it off with a ‘yee-haw!’, baring a corset, fishnet stockings, and a heavily pregnant belly. Fondling her breasts, he pushed her to the ground and clambered on top of her, already struggling to unbutton his pants. Soon, the sound of smacking flesh filled the chapel. 

Clair stared, whiter than the bride’s tattered dress. “F-father! Father!” she cried. “Father!” Hurrying out of the pew, she rushed down the aisle, stepped nervously over the lovemaking couple, and caught the robes of the priest as he disappeared out back. “Father, please!” 

“What is it?” he snapped, turning back with a frown. As she fumbled for words, he lit a cigarette and took a deep puff of it. 

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” she asked. 

On the ground, Candy Sweetlips mewled. 

“I wasn’t planning to,” said the priest. “Not until we need the floorspace, anyhow. What do you want, anyway?” He looked her up and down. “Some rich piece of meat put a bun in your oven too?” 

Clair covered her stomach with a cry of horror. 

“No? What’s the matter then? You lose it all on the roulette? Come here to pray for the Lord’s forgiveness and also, if he’s feeling especially generous, another line of credit?” 

“I am here–” said Clair, practically stamping her feet. “--for the Sunday service!” 

The priest stared at her. “The what?” 

“Sunday prayer!” 

Sucking on his cigarette, the priest released a long plume of smoke. “Girl, you’re a virgin, right?” 

“Of course,” said Clair, indignant. 

“Then I want to climb back on your donkey and ride all the way back to Bethlehem, because this chapel needs virgins about as much as I need another hernia.”

*

Leaving the chapel behind her, Clair stormed through the casino like an icebreaker, forcing gamblers and bunnies alike out of her path through sheer force of will. 

Striding outside, she reached the convertible, threw herself into the backseat, and only then realized that she was missing four friends. 

“Well, I’m not going back in there,” she said, folding her arms. 

Five minutes later, she reentered the lobby with a snarl. Where were they? If she had to spend another second in this awful, disgusting city, she was going to explode. 

“Excuse me,” she said, snapping to attract the attention of one of the multitude of bunnies. “Have you seen…?” 

“Oh!” cried the bunny, throwing her arms up in surprise. It made her boobs wobble–her sinfully, sinfully large boobs–not that Clair was paying attention to that. “You’re the girl we’re looking for!” 

“I am?” said Clair, blinking in surprise.

“That’s right!” cried the bunny. “Come this way! Quickly! Your friends are waiting for you just on the other side of this door.” She pushed her through what looked like a fire exit and into a dark, stone-bricked corridor lined with pipes. “Juuust down this corridor.” 

Clair folded her arms. “Where exactly are you taking me? What are they doing down here, of all places?! Hello? Aren’t you going to answer me?” 

Then they turned the corner, and Clair no longer needed the bunny’s answer. Zap! 

Clair froze in horror. Before her eyes stood–or rather floated–Dolly, rising into the air with a prismatic aura, her body twitching and pulsing as her restraints fell away and her clothing melted like plastic. Before Clair’s eyes, it dripped from her figure and ran in liquid loops around her limbs, ultimately settling as a bright, yellow bunny outfit. The fluffy tail wiggled as Dolly screamed. 

Just as Clair thought the whole awful process couldn’t get more sinful, Dolly’s skin pulsed like a heart, and with a moan her boobs and her buttcheeks bloated to thrice their former size and then some, jiggling wildly from side to side. 

With that, she flipped onto her back, and started to turn–it was as if she were clay in the hands of a giant potter. Spinning her, it squeezed her, squishing her entire body into a giant cylinder, before pinching her labia and stretching them, up, up, up, until they formed a long sprout. Sticking its fingers into her pussy, it wiggled them around, carefully shaping her vagina into a neat, round ‘O’. Everything below her sex, it rubbed into a smooth cylinder. 

As the light continued to dance around her body, Dolly’s skin shimmered and changed, taking on a deeper brown hue. At the same time, it lost its opacity. Clasping her mouth, Clair gasped to realize she could see straight into her body; and instead of muscles and bones, it something far worse: fluid, sloshing from side to side as Dolly twitched and writhed. 

The light continued to work her, rubbing away her breasts and her ass and every other sign of her humanity, and smoothing out her clothes till they were little more than a layer of fabric around her figure. A quick wash of sparkles, and they became a simple sticker: exactly the kind you’d normally see on a bottle. ‘CHARDOLLAY,’ it read.

With a pop, an egregiously large cork appeared in the air over the bottle’s spout. It slammed into the open hole, plugging it tight, and with that, the entire thing dropped out of the sky and into the hands of a waiting bunny. Holding it high, she shook it with a laugh, making the wine inside slosh loudly. 

Clair dropped to her knees in horror. “N-no! No! What have you done to her?” 

“What’s the matter?” said Monty Casino, producing a glass. The bunny popped Dolly’s cork and filled it without a word. “Don’t you drink?” 

Before Clair could protest, a pair of bunnies grabbed her arms and dragged her across the floor to the chair where Dolly had formerly been sitting. “St-stop! Please!” she cried, struggling and pleading. Forcing her into the seat, they bound her wrists and stepped back, leaving her sitting and shaking in terror. 

“Alright,” said Monty, taking a long sip of special adult Dolly juice. “You might not have violated our establishment’s sacred rules, but we can hardly let you go after doing away with all your friends now, can we? Especially now that you’ve seen our special processes in action. What d’you think we should do with this one, girls?” 

One of the bunnies scurried over and whispered something in his ear. Monty threw back his head in an uproarious laugh. “You’re looking for a new friend, eh? Well, we gotta find them somewhere, I suppose. By all means, be my guest.” 

“Wh-what’s happening?” said Clair, as the bunnies adjusted the device. “What are you planning? What’s going on? What are you going to do?” 

In response, they aimed it at her chest, tossed the safety, and–

Zap! 

Colorful lightning struck her sternum and washed over her body, dancing and sparking up and down her limbs as she screamed and shook in–whisper it–erotic pleasure. Her nipples hardened, her pussy poured, and her eyes rolled back in her eye sockets. She moaned, her tongue lolling out of her mouth entirely. 

As she sat there and shook, her body so full of pleasure she felt certain she’d burst, her good Christian sundress started to shimmer like ice cream in the sun. Soon, it started to slip away from her, her bodice rolling down her chest and taking her bra with it, leaving her to stare in utter horror as her breasts flopped into the open, fully exposed to the public for the first in her not-quite-twenty-one years of life. She screamed. “Stop! What are you doing?! What are you doing?” 

Sliding down her legs, the remnants of her dress (and her panties and her pantyhose) formed a large puddle around her shoes. Sucking them up as well, it twitched and started to rise, clinging tight to her legs as it clambered up her body like some kind of awful slime. She could only squeal. 

As it rose, her molten clothes resolidified, taking on a form she could probably guess, even if she really didn’t want to: high heels, fishnet stockings, a tight, bright white bodysuit, complete with a fluffy tail. Wrapping around her neck, it became a bowtie, before clambering up her head to stretch into a pair of tall ears, the crown to her regal, rabbit-y raiment. “No!” cried Clair, struggling to shake them off. “No! Please! I can’t wear anything this lewd! I can’t! I don’t want a shotgun marriaaaaaage!” 

The beam flared, and Clair’s screams started afresh. As the energy poured into her, a terrible pounding started in her asscheeks and her breasts. Looking down, she watched through trembling eyes as they shook, ringing, as if host to a pair of giant bells. “N-no!” she cried, realizing what was about to happen. “Please, not my body! Not my body! Not–” 

With an enormous bowoing!, Clair lost her wholesome Christian figure. Unlike her friends, who’d merely received a single serving of curves, she got a second helping and then some. Like a pair of blimps, her boobs burst out of her top and flopped free of it, her fist-sized nipples jiggling in the air. Beneath her, her asscheeks burst into a pair of beachballs, practically throwing her out of the chair with their grand new size. She squealed as a terrible new pleasure rippled through her. 

As the beam at last died, Clair screwed up her eyes and tried to weather the thunderstorm of pleasure rocking her swollen new figure. She breathed hard, fogging the air. “It’s… It’s okay, Clair! They haven’t done anything to your real self! You still have your immortal soul!”

“Alright girls, zap her immortal soul.” 

Clair’s eyes snapped open. “Eh?! Wait, no!” 

As the bunnies adjusted the device, she screwed up her eyes and started to pray. “H-Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, n-now–” The device was humming really loudly now. “--a-andatthehourofourdeathAmen!” She slammed her eyes tight.

With a tremendous bang, the doors of the backroom flew open, spilling golden light into the room. Clair’s eyes snapped open; she squealed. Monty and his goons shied back, hissing. 

“J-Jesus?” said Clair. “Is that–?” 

With a thunder of boots, into the room charged a small army of armored men, their guns raised. “Freeze!” cried one. “In the name of the Gore!” 

The bunny with the baseball bat raised it to take a swing, and with a click and a pop, a splotch of pink paint appeared on her breast. She fainted with a thump. 

The others pulled their standard gangster-issue Tommy guns, and in an instant, the air was full of the sound of whizzing paintballs. Soldiers were leaping for cover. Bunnies were dropping left and right. People were screaming; it was carnage, or at least a decent imitation, like a scene out of a school reenactment of some really violent film. Monty grabbed a bunny and tried to use her as a shield as he hurried to the door, but he made it all of three steps before a paintball dinged his leg, and he dropped her, grabbing his ankle in pain. A second later, one struck him right between the eyes. “Ow,” he said, and collapsed, stone fainted. 

As the last few bunnies raised their hands in surrender, a man stepped in the room. A tall, plain-looking man with neatly-combed hair and a perpetual… it was too much to call it a smile. “Alright,” he said, his voice flat. “Round them up. Nobody claims to run a place of entertainment in Al Gore’s name and gets away with it.” 

One of the soldiers cut her restraints, and with a squeal of joy, Clair leapt to her feet (trying to ignore the way her body kept jiggling). 

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she cried, wrapping her arms around Al Gore’s waist. “You saved me.” 

“It’s alright, ma’am,” said Al Gore. “I’m just doing my duty to the American people.” 

And he turned to the camera. “I’m Al Gore. I used to be the next president of the United States.” Laughter from the soldiers. “I don’t find that particularly funny.”

One of the soldiers wheeled in a projector and the screen. With a click, it started to run, showing an image of the Earth from space. “I’ve been trying to tell this story for a long time and I feel as if I’ve failed to get the message across.” 

On the screen, the earth turned. Clair looked left and right, blinking in confusion.

“I was in politics for a long time. I’m proud of my services.” 

Wait,” said Clair. “Is this just–?” She took a step back, and one of the soldiers grabbed her arms. He held her firm, even as she struggled.

Back by the screen, Al Gore continued without pause. “There are good people who are in politics in both parties who hold this at arm’s length–”

“Wait!” cried Clair. “No, please! You can’t force me to–!” 

“–because if they acknowledge it and recognize it then a moral imperative to make big changes is inescapable–” 

“Noooooo!” 

***

The tires of the convertible screeched as it slammed into the parking lot, almost throwing its passengers over the windshield. 

“Jesus Christ, Jacklyn!” cried Kitty. “We barely escape the Mafia, and you immediately try to drive us into a wall? Are you on the take or something?” 

“Shut up, Kitty! Next time, why don’t you drive? Jesus Christ.” 

“I keep telling you there’s no point in driving so fast,” said Penny, folding her arms. “After accounting for traffic lights, you’ll still get to your destination in the same time on–” 

“Oh, you too, Penny? Well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you both drive? And then you can, like, get married or something too. Jesus Christ.” 

She paused, expecting something, but it didn’t come. Beside Kitty, Clair stared silently ahead, her face stripped of all hope for the future. 

For several minutes, the five of them simply stare there in the parking lot of the diner, Jacklyn tapping the wheel, Penny looking uncomfortably, Kitty crossing her arms, Clair staring silently at the back of the driver’s seat, and Dolly snoozing with her head on the back of the passenger’s. 

“Are we going to talk about what happened back there?” said Jacklyn, at last. “You know, with the raygun, and the…” She blushed. “The you know.” 

“It was pretty nice of Al Gore to turn us back,” said Penny. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.” 

A tumbleweed rolled past the diner and off into the desert. It made Penny and Kitty think of dogs, for some reason. 

In the end, it was Clair who snapped out of her trance and broke the awkward silence. “Let’s never talk about it again.” 

“Agreed.” 

“Agreed.” 

“Agreed.” 

“You know what they say about Vegas, after all,” said Penny, adjusting her glasses in a knowing fashion. 

The rest of the group looked at her. “What?” 

She shuffled uncomfortably. “What happens in Vegas… happens in Vegas?” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh.” 

“Well that just goes without saying.” 

Ten minutes later, they returned from the restroom and settled back into their seats. But as she shifted the car into reverse and depressed the accelerator, Jacklyn experienced a sudden bout of confusion. “Wait a second,” she said, looking back. “Clair, what do you mean you’ve been in a casino before?” 

The tires of the convertible screeched as they shot away from the diner.