Losing to Clyde

The Prince was totally aghast when he arose in the morning and remembered what had happened to him the night before. 

Some twelve hours earlier he had lost in a game of cards to Clyde, a downtrodden merchant who had been nicknamed “The Beast” by many in the Prince's royal circle. The old man’s splotchy skin, large beak of a nose and hawk-like beady eyes were all to thank for the name that had followed him for years now. Of course that nickname itself had originated with the Prince - but he would never openly take credit for it, especially as he often used Clyde’s poor luck with games to his amusement. It was an easy way to win money for beer, even if no bartender in the kingdom would ever charge their beloved prince for as much as a shot. Just one of the many benefits of being me, he thought smugly every time a free drink was placed in front of him, more than happy to take advantage of his position of privilege. 

The two men had played nearly one-hundred games of cards and Clyde had never won a single time but he approached the Prince with a surprising confidence that night. “I want to play for more than just money tonight,” Clyde had declared with a toothy grin. “If I win, I want your good looks.” The request earned an incredulous laugh from the handsome young man. It was no secret that he was gorgeous - he was reminded as such multiple times a day - but the thought of potentially losing that to Clyde of all people… it was worth shivering, just thinking about it. Even though he had won against the other so many times before, betting more than money felt like a risk. “That it, unless you’re too chicken to play.”

Despite knowing that the other man was merely goading him, the Prince couldn’t help but fall for the bait. I’ve never lost before, this time will be no different, he told himself as the two clasped hands in a gentleman’s agreement, in spite of the strange scratching sensation at the back of his mind. He’d have done better to listen to that though, as once the cards had been dealt he knew he was doomed. His first ever loss to Clyde was delivered in decisive fashion and the magical laws of a gentleman’s agreement ensured that the price would have to be paid.

With his gut twisting in horror, the Prince could only watch as the changes began. Clyde’s infamously large nose regressed in size, losing the hooked bridge and instead becoming straighter and thinner. The blemishes that marked Clyde’s skin soon vanished too and the vivid pink of the older man’s cheeks gave way to the exotic bronze of a well-travelled man. Thick brown hair began to sprout from the older man’s scalp and the few remaining white hairs that had been on his head darkened to better fit an appearance that already made Clyde look some twenty years younger than his age of sixty.

A sharp itching sensation spread across the Prince’s face and fear rippled through him as he realized what it must mean. That sensation was soon followed by a sharp pain in his nose as it began to grow in size and take on a distinctive hooked bridge. His head suddenly felt exposed as his hairline regressed and his hair thinned out while the pigments of colour were washed out to a bright white. The very flesh of his face felt heavy as his cheeks began to sag and dark circles blossomed beneath the young man’s eyes, inexplicably aging him well beyond his years.

Each man’s body soon followed upon the path that their faces had taken - Clyde’s growing firm and muscular while every single one of the Prince’s carefully toned muscles became loaded with heavy pounds of fat. His new rolls began to push his finely-crafted tunic to its very limits and even cause it to burst at the seams around his thick thighs and fat ass. Meanwhile Clyde’s clothes began to hang loose around his reshaped body, although the crotch did in fact feel tighter as he gained several inches where it really counted.

After just two minutes there was absolutely no way anybody would confuse them. The Prince now sat where Clyde had once been and “The Beast” had assumed the Prince's place. Why the two individuals had switched seats and clothes nobody could understand, as nobody had actually witnessed their exchange. As far as anyone in the bar was concerned, the Prince had merely beat pathetic old Clyde once again and the older man’s tears were as a result of one-hundred consecutive failures.

The new Prince rose from his seat and smirked down at his former self. “I think I’m through playing cards, Clyde,” he declared contently as he readied himself to go. “Enjoy the rest of your life… Beast.” And with that, the Prince returned to his life of luxury, while Clyde was forced onto a new path of poverty and shame.