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The Gambling Rules

Part 1

For Limemas

By Draconicon

The rich got to feel better about themselves through random acts of charity, and those random acts of charity seldom benefited more than a few of the poor at any one time. However, in this case, Darius didn't care. He and his best friend, Lance, were the ones lucky enough to be getting 'helped' this time.

"I can't believe we won those tickets," the rat ahead of him said. "I mean, seriously, what were the odds?"

"Something big, I'm sure," Darius muttered, the lion looking up at the giant ship that stretched out past the docking station on the orbital station. "Holy shit..."

The DS Marten IV, the flagship of the Marten fleet, stretched out bigger than any sports stadium had ever been on the planet below, and it soared taller than the average skyscraper, too. The cruise liner had been built by the Space Vacation corporation, something that was known throughout the system. While there were various travel agencies that operated planet-side, it was pretty well-known that the only way that you were going to get far off-planet with any quality was by dealing with the Space Vacation corporation. They were connected to everything, running around with their fingers in every business that you could shake a stick at.

Water-side resorts? They had some on desert planets.

Deep nebula dives? They owned all the stations.

Galactic tours? The only ships that were big enough for it were owned by, you guessed it, them.

And they were expensive as one could ever imagine. Nobody earning less than two million a year would be able to afford the meanest, cheapest ticket that they had on offer. Nobody that had been in their neighborhood growing up would have been able to get to the space station to see it off, let alone be part of the boarding process. It was insane to believe that they were actually here.

And yet, they were. And there was no denying it.

"Tickets, please," a female mink asked as they came to the front of the line.

"Uh, yeah. Darius, you got them, right?"

The lion nodded, rooting through his pockets until he found their boarding passes. They were streaked with gold lines, circuit-printed to make them harder to counterfeit. The gold alone in the tickets would have been enough to set them up with a house planetside, at least for a year. But this...

This was something better.

The mink took the tickets, scanned them, and then nodded to herself.

"Hands, please."

They both extended their hands, palm up. The female jabbed them both with a painless needle right into the meat of their palms.

"There you go. The nanites for your doors should be circulating now. Just present your hands at any part of the ship to be allowed in. Just, um, make sure that you're..."

"That we're what, huh? What?" Lance asked.

"Just be sure that you're...clean."

The mink's soft cough and dismissive gesture was all that Darius needed to see to know that it was time to move on. He grabbed his friend by the tail before he could start letting loose, knowing that the sputtering only had a limited time before Lance would be shouting with rage. If that happened before they were on-board, he doubted that they would be allowed on the ship after all, contest winnings or no.

They were, thankfully, on-board and past the boarding guards and off the hard-light ramp before Lance's anger got the better of him. The rat sputtered, shaking his head and bristling from head to toe, pulling at the cheap vest that he'd bought for the trip.

"Dirty. Dirty! As if we're that much less than these rich fucks."

"I know, I know, but come on. Let's not make it worse."

"They're the ones making it worse."

"Yeah, but I can't punch them for you here. Let's just try to make the best of it, huh?"

Darius knew that it was going to be difficult for Lance to do that. The rat had always been the more sensitive of the pair of them to the wealth problems in their neighborhood growing up. They'd lived right on the border with one of the more affluent neighborhoods, getting a constant show of just what they didn't have through the force-fields that blocked them off from going through it on the way to school. They got to see the rich kids with hover-bikes and the adults with planes and more heading off to work. Everything reminded them of what they did not have, and what the rich people did.

They'd managed to dig their way out of that, eventually, getting to the bottom level of middle-class - as if that mattered in this day and age - but it was a tenuous place, and they were always aware that if one of them lost a job, they'd fall right back down.

Darius was willing enough to keep working hard, but Lance had always dreamed of more, wanted more. The rat was one of those that would not shut up about the unfairness of it all, and would push anyone that would listen to take him seriously.

Hopefully, they could have a vacation from the rage as much as anything else.

He walked up to a Doberman guard, waving. The difference between them was quite stark; the Doberman was dressed in a suit, while Darius wore his best jeans, ripped at the knees, and a stained but relatively clean shirt.

"Excuse me," he asked. "Could you tell us where our rooms are?"

"Staff or winners?" the Doberman asked.

"Uh...winners."

"Deck fifty-four. Elevators are around the corners. Make sure that you have the real nanites and not some fake stuff."

"...Noted."

"And don't cause trouble."

He nodded, returning to the glowering rat and nodding down the hall. Lance led the way, and soon, they were riding the elevator up, both of them silent for different reasons.

They reached deck fifty-four, stepping outside. There were two rooms that were very obviously meant for the winners of the contest, one already open, and the other closed. After making sure that there was someone in the open room - there was - he held his wrist up over the other door. It slid open, allowing them to step inside.

It was...well, spacious, for one. They both noticed that almost immediately. The fact that there were two large beds rather than one small one was a huge upgrade from their home back on earth, and they were both shocked to see that they had a window, of all things. The little den-homes that they had to share down there consisted of something that would have made a historical studio apartment look spacious, and he had little doubt that they would miss this room when it was done.

"Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and living room," Lance said, walking between the bunch of them. "Looks like we got the whole thing."

"Yeah...wow."

"This is what they have all the time. Not fucking fair that we have to deal without it."

"Well...let's try and enjoy it while we can."

"I'm going to do more than enjoy it. I'm going to keep it." The rat shook his head. "One way or another, I'm going to keep it."

"I don't think that they'll let us stay on the ship after it finishes the galactic cruise," Darius said, trying to put a light spin on it. Of course, as usual, it didn't work. "Lance...come on. Can't we just have fun?"

"They can't throw us off. Not now."

"But they can make it miserable. Let's...can we just try and get along?"

"...No promises. I'm going to make sure that we get everything we can. We aren't going to be poor again."

"But how - oh, god. You're not."

"They gave us spending credits for a reason; I can use it anywhere I want. The gambling hall seems as good a place as any."

Darius groaned. While they had both been given some spending money to go along with the tickets, that didn't mean that it was limitless. They both had five-thousand credits that would go towards their account, and anything that they didn't spend on the ship would follow them back to the planet when this was all over and done with. He'd hoped that they could pool that, spending as little as possible so that they could take some small nest-egg with them to pay off their bills.

Lance, however, was having none of it. The rat was intent on getting them more than they already had, no matter how risky that might have been. He was always like this. Sometimes he was right, and other times...

"Come on. Let's make some money."

Lance was...doing alright. Not great, not poorly, but just alright. The whole process had gone smoother than Darius would have liked, considering the shameless grins that the gambling hall employees wore in addition to their fancy clothes. The minute Lance showed up and said that he wanted to use three-thousand of his credits towards gambling, they were more than happy to shift it over to his personal nanites, ensuring that all he had to do was wave his hand and the account was tapped, sending the money right into the machines and the tables for the next game.

So far, they were up by five-hundred credits, but that was after a losing stream that had nearly wiped Lance out completely. The whole thing was hinging off of pure luck, and the rat was riding the high like nobody's business. Darius winced as he sat behind his friend, watching as he played a game of cards that the lion could barely keep up with.

"Maybe, um, maybe we should stop after this hand," Darius pointed out.

"Fuck that," Lance said. "I'm on a roll."

Yes, but for how long, is the question?

They had been pulling in money, there was no denying that, but that just meant that they were getting lucky for now. The randomizer was favoring them, but it hadn't been just a few minutes ago. And Lance was starting to get a little too loose with his money, betting bigger and bigger in hopes of getting that jackpot.

If you'd just stop...if you knew when to quit...

But Lance never had, and this time, they weren't in some card den on earth with a couple of thugs that Darius could rough up and get them out of there in one piece. They were on a ship surrounded by drones, security, and a bunch of rich assholes that were already looking down on them, judging them for being beneath their standard of quality. It was only a matter of time before they were thrown out of the gambling hall if they started winning more, and he doubted that it would go well for either of them if they were forced out.

The man on the other side of the table, a rather grumpy badger, finally stood up and walked away. They were left without an opponent for half a minute, during which time Darius thought that they might finally be making their way towards getting a chance to leave, when someone else sat down. His hopes of departure died with the arrival of this new man.

A pine marten, the new guy was slender, looming a little bit more than he actually could with that meager height due to the sheer thinness of his frame. He was followed by a Doberman in a black suit and black sunglasses, looking down at him and Lance over the marten's shoulder. The older male smiled at them, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his hands folded under his chin.

"Hello, boys. You're obviously not from around here, are you?"

"What makes you say that?" Lance asked, slowly pushing his hand backwards, as if pulling his chips in. "We've got our tickets and everything."

"Yes, but you're not exactly playing for the joy of playing. You're playing to win, aren't you?"

"Shouldn't everyone?"

"Oh, you need to know how to lose, too, but most of the time...yes." The older pine marten chuckled. "I'll take a hand against you. What have you been betting?"

"Three hundred a hand," Lance said.

"Ah. Then let's raise the stakes."

Ding ding ding. The numbers floating at their sides chanted. The ante went from three hundred to two thousand in the blink of an eye. Darius just about had a heart attack, and then almost thought he did when Lance gestured to bid.

"Are you nuts?" he wheezed.

"It's one more hand," Lance said.

"You don't have -"

"Shut up. It let me."

"Indeed. Let's see how strong your will is, young man."

The pine marten was dealt to first, then Lance. The lion leaned back, shaking his head, trying not to hyperventilate as he glanced around the casino. There were all kinds of exits, but they were marked, watched by cameras and security alike. Not to mention, here, there weren't chips or cash to grab and run with. They were stuck with losing whatever they had if Lance ended up losing this hand.

Four thousand credits in the pot, and the cards went 'round. The pine marten discarded three, Lance four. A total loss of a hand, and he didn't know if the new one was any better; his head was spinning at the thought of throwing that much money around. They could have lived for three months, easily, on that food budget, and better than they usually did.

But it was already moving on. Another bet, another round. Lance was dry, using up all 3,500 credits that he had been allowing himself. The five-hundred profit and all the rest that he had offered to the gambling hall would be gone. He couldn't bluff. Not enough money to make a bash bluff.

The pine marten adjusted his tie, pulling it forward a little bit and letting it drape over the front of his suit.

"So, tell me. Contest winners?" the marten asked.

"Why's it matter?" Lance asked.

"Oh, I just think that you tend to be more interesting than the other passengers. More...eclectic. More engaged. More...enthusiastic, heh."

"It's your bid."

"Hmmm..."

"Come on, pick it up."

"Two more cards."

The table took two holograms, gave two back, and Lance did the same. Darius was trying to calm down, feeling his head spinning as he tried to get what the pine marten wanted. It wasn't the money. It wasn't trying to get rid of them, either. The older male clearly didn't want them gone; there was something else there. He didn't have the feel of the old con artists back on the planet, either, not the sort of guy that had changed the game to wipe them out. Something else was going on.

But what?

The game flipped one more time, and the final display of hands came down...and Lance won. Four thousand credits had turned to somewhere north of seven thousand, which meant that the rat had slightly more than doubled what he had invested in the game. Lance threw his arms in the air, and Darius sagged in his chair in utter relief.

"Another game!" the rat demanded.

"Heh, don't be so hasty, young man. I have other proposals for you," the pine marten said, leaning back. "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I'm Dimitri Marten, the owner of this vessel."

Even Lance stumbled at that, and Darius's eyes went about as wide as they could possibly go as he realized where he'd gotten this feeling before. This was the same sort of feeling that he'd gotten when they were around some gang boss that had taken some new territory, someone that was seeing just how far they could squeeze someone for what they wanted without going too far. Dimitri had that same sort of presence, though it was masked in a sort of smarm and curiosity. It was...intimidating, to say the least.

The pine marten stood up, completely unphased by losing 3,500 credits in less than a minute. He smiled, tucking one hand into his pocket.

"Come with me. I've always found that drinks work best with a good conversation."

As the marten walked off, Darius slowly found himself standing up. Lance looked up at him, then slowly got up himself. Regardless of whatever feelings they had about rich people, when the owner of the ship you were on told you to come with him, you did it.

#

They were seated in a private area of the casino, a bubble that floated over the tables without any seeming rhyme or reason for the path that it took. Every so often, Darius looked over and down, seeing the different games going on under him, only to whip his head back up as Dimitri moved. The pine marten seemed more amused than ever at their silence, shaking his head as he picked up the cocktail glass that the Doberman had brought over.

"Now, boys, perhaps we should talk about some...opportunities that you might have on my vessel."

"I ain't signing on for a job," Lance said.

"And...we have stuff back at home. Things waiting," Darius added.

"Of course, of course, no problem with that." Dimitri chuckled. "I'm not looking to take you away from your lives, merely offer you a chance to enrich them."

"...Keep talking."

Lance was always the one that did the talking, and Darius was always the one that did the listening, the following, the fighting - basically, the one that dealt with the consequences. It wasn't always bad, but...well, it often was. This time, he had no idea what Lance expected him to do, so he shut up and listened.

"You see, as a rich man, it's rather hard to find much in the way of amusement. I can pay someone to do just about anything, and that means that most of life has lost its luster. The only real difference...the only real thing that interests me anymore...is finding just how far a person is willing to go.

"Of course, that doesn't mean much for someone of my status, or for most of my guests. They're all well-established, not that willing to do things that are different, difficult, that kind of thing. They've got staff for that, but you..."

The pine marten smiled, crossing one leg as he sipped his cocktail. Lance was bristling again, while Darius was trying to listen. He gently pushed down on Lance's shoulder, trying to keep his friend calm.

"You are a little more...how do I put this delicately? Desperate, I suppose. You will do things that others simply wouldn't think of, for the right motivation. Is that right?"

"...What are you offering, and what are you asking?" Lance asked.

"Mmm, now that is the right question."

"I want to know."

"Desperate, are we?"

"I'm poor. I'm always desperate."

"Mmm, and this is your way out. Now, this does promise to be an interesting cruise."

The pine marten put the drink to the side. Darius could feel where this was going, and he knew that they were going to be in deep shit by the time that they stopped. He knew Lance, he knew that the rat hated the rich, but he knew that Lance hated being poor even more. The other man would push himself further than was sane, trying to get what he believed should be his, what he deserved.

It would end with the both of them in debt, he was sure. Or in trouble. He cleared his throat, and the pine marten turned to look at him.

"I want...I want to know something, first."

"And what's that, young man?" Dimitri asked.

"I want to know that we're not going to get in trouble for the things you ask us to do."

"Is that all?"

"That's everything. I want to be able to get off this boat when we're done."

"Oh, don't worry. I own this boat. I control the law, here. Heh. If you're worried about getting in trouble with the law, all you have to do is avoid trouble with me. That seems simple enough, doesn't it?"

"..."

"And if it doesn't, then you can just say no...and no more needs to be said. After all, you are richer now...though not as rich as you could be."

It was bait, and it was bait that there was no way that Lance would resist. Even as Darius considered standing up from the floating table, the rat leaned over it, looking the pine marten right in the eye.

"What are you offering?"

"Variable amounts of cash, of course, depending on just what you're willing to do," the rich man said, sipping from his glass once more. "I want to make sure that you are compensated, of course, though you will find yourself getting asked to do rather risqué things, and perhaps rather embarrassing, depending on the sort of people you are."

"You're talking prostitution?"

"Well, it's certainly not illegal on my vessel, if you're worried about that." The pine marten chuckled, shaking his head. "But not yet. Not right off the bat, of course. Perhaps, if I get bored, I might ask you to service some guest of mine...but for right now, nothing of the sort. We are still, after all, testing the waters."

Yep. Bad idea. Bad idea.

But Lance was already ready for it, he could tell. And...they had been promised that nothing they did would break the rules, since they were on a vessel far out to space, and the person making them do it was the person that owned it. As long as they stayed in Dimitri Marten's good graces, they should be safe.

Should.

"What do you want us to do?" Lance asked for the third time.

"God...fucking...dammit," Lance muttered.

"You got us into this, asshole," Darius muttered, a hint of his anger spilling out as he pulled his shirt over his head. "You were the one that couldn't turn down the money."

"Shut up. He's giving us a thousand each for this. Just to take a walk."

"A naked walk."

"Shut up."

"A naked walk through the goddamn casino."

"I said, shut the fuck up."

"You shut up! You got us into this!"

"And I'll get us out. Richer than before."

Two thousand credits was not a small amount of money. The two of them, all told, managed to pull in slightly under half that in a month back on earth, the pair of them working their asses off to get what they could from their jobs, all the hours that they could force others to give them, all the money that they could get as bonuses from their bosses. All told, it was a horrible existence. Two thousand would go a long way towards making it better.

But doing it like this...

He blushed as he pulled his pants down, his cock hanging low and refusing to do anything to show arousal. Probably good. The five-hundred bonus for that wasn't something that was worth losing that much dignity for.

At least, not for him. He blinked as he heard the fap-fap sound of his friend jerking, and he slowly looked over his shoulder.

"Dude...what..."

"I'm not turning down five-hundred credits," Lance muttered, glaring at his cock. "Get up, dammit."

"You're not seriously..."

"I am not losing this opportunity."

"Dude...you...I...I can't believe this..."

"You going to?"

"No!"

"Well, don't blame me if you don't get paid as much."

That wasn't the point. Not even close. But even as Lance kept stroking himself, he could tell that the rat was almost as embarrassed as he was. Neither of them were happy about the situation, though Lance was putting a better face on it than he was. They were just trying to get through this with the best outcome that they could.

He looked down at his own shaft, still more than two inches longer than what Lance had - despite being soft and the rat being hard - and he half-considered giving it a few strokes to put on the show that the pine marten wanted. The thought died in the back of his head. His dignity meant something, even if they needed the money.

As soon as Lance had something that might have been called an erection in some pornos, the pair of them looked at each other. They did it very carefully, not daring to look down, not wanting to go further than they had ever gone before. They nodded at one another, and Darius breathed out a long sigh as he reached for the door out of the storage closet that they'd used to change.

"Ready?"

"Ready," Lance muttered.

"One...two...three."

He threw open the door, and they stepped out into the gambling hall. He was almost thankful for the bright light, particularly as it blurred the sheer numbers of people that had turned to stare at them as they emerged.

The lion kept walking, trying to move fast enough to keep from seeing anyone clearly. He was hearing them more than he wanted to already, heard men and women alike talking about him and Lance.

"Look at them. They're poor."

"And - goodness. That is quite the show."

"Exotic, if nothing else."

"It seems that rats really are small everywhere."

"Except their balls, heh."

"But the lion...not doing badly, that one."

"I wonder if he purrs if you fuck his ass."

Darius picked up the pace, keeping his eyes down as his cheeks burned. He could feel all the eyes on him as he walked naked through the casino, doing his best not to react and praying that Lance would do the same. His cheeks burned too much for him to think of anything but how naked he was; anything that the rat did, he wouldn't be able to stop. He was just trying to keep himself together.

They walked between the card tables, around the old, antique craps tables. Everyone turned to look at them, some staring at his ass, some at the cock that flopped and bounced between his legs. He had never, ever, ever been this on display before, nor had someone talk about fucking his ass.

As if...as if I'd do that...

Lance and he went for females. They went for women. Not men.

But if Dimitri offers that money...

No, no, no way. Even Lance wasn't going gay for pay. It was one thing to do something embarrassing like this, to be the manipulated poor, but it was something else entirely to go that far.

Still, he couldn't shake that notice that they might be sent to service different guests if this went on long enough. He just hoped that meant female guests, ones that wanted to 'slum it' safely.

If he meant other guys -

Darius stumbled, almost falling over a table, and his ass was groped by one of the customers that were nearby. He gasped, his eyes going wide as he pulled away as fast as possible. The bull that had tapped his ass laughed, shaking his head.

"Hey, nothing wrong with showing off how poor you are. Dirty little peasant. Go on, keep moving."

Smack!

The spank that followed kept him moving, alright, the lion almost running across the casino floor. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that they had to keep it to a walk, but there was nothing stopping him from making it a fast-walk. He kept moving, kept pushing himself to keep walking faster, faster, faster, his feet barely touching the carpeted deck as he made his way towards the stairs on the other side of the room.

That, and Lance. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, seeing his friend making his way through the various tables slower than he was, taking his time. His face was redder than Darius's was, but he was focused, dedicated to finishing this with -

Oh, god, he was actually touching himself, teasing his hard-on back up and keeping himself from going soft. The five-hundred credits must have meant even more than he'd said if he was willing to go that far.

Not me. Not me.

He kept moving, though he slowed down enough to allow Lance to catch up. He was furiously red at the various stares and nods that they got, the idle reaches that didn't quite touch them and the smirks that showed the rich were enjoying the show more than they should have been allowed to. It wasn't fair. It truly, truly wasn't fair.

Finally, they reached the far side. He wanted to collapse, but considering that he was still naked, he satisfied himself with covering his crotch and ensuring that he wasn't showing off his dick any longer than he had to. Lance did the same thing, the rat and the lion bundling themselves around the corner and into the corridor.

Not entirely surprisingly, Dimitri was waiting for them. The pine marten clapped his hands, chuckling to himself.

"Good, good. I was hoping for a good show to start off the cruise, and boys, you delivered. Very, very good." He waved his hand, and Darius heard a soft beep. "A thousand each, as promised."

"And you aren't going back on this? There'll be...other things?" Lance asked.

"Of course, as long as you're willing to keep doing something for my amusement, I can always think of something. Don't worry. You won't lack for income."

The pine marten turned to leave, and his Doberman guard fell in step behind him. The two naked men shivered as they realized that they weren't getting their clothes back anytime soon, not without going back through the casino. They were going to need something to wear, and considering that they had just been paid...

"Shopping?" Darius asked.

"Shopping," Lance confirmed. "Right now."

They ran off to the elevators. They were going to need plenty of clothes if they were going to be asked to strip. Thankfully, on a Marten cruise, there was a shop for everything.

The End

Summary: A pair of poor young men win a cruise ticket. Unfortunately, things go off the rails very quickly.

Tags: M/solo, Exhibitionism, Lion, Pine Marten, Rat, Various Species, Nudity, Sci-Fi, Exhibitionism, Classism, Humiliation, Series, Exposure, Semi-Prostitution, Gambling,