Yes. Play the game.

"Yes," Marcus whispers. Nothing else happens.

He sighs and thinks to himself: Well, of course nothing is going to happen. It's not like it's magic or something. It's a creepy-ass birthday card, and the existential crisis it sparked wouldn't be the first one a disenfranchised millennial has had on the eve of their twenty-fifth birthday. Not in this economy...

But Marcus is resolved; from now on he's not going to just coast by. He spends the rest of the evening trying to figure out how much he needs to save up before he can move back to Portland and get back to his real life. If he's careful, he could save enough to move in another six months.

Marcus eventually falls asleep at his desk. He has a strange dream.

Marcus is standing in front of a studio audience next to a giant wheel hanging on a wall. The wheel is divided into sections, each one with a number on it between 1 and 5. He realizes he is naked and feels embarrassed, moving his hands to cover his groin. A voice rings out above the crowd, "Everyone, let's give a great, big round of applause for our newest contestant, Marcus!"

The crowd cheers.

"Marcus is six feet tall, blue-eyed, and hung like most guys out there with a perfectly average sized, 5 1/2 inch, uncut dong. He hails from Bumfuck, Texas, where he is currently wasting his life away as a sad, lonely gay man with no lovers, no money, and no real hope of escaping."

In unison, the whole crowd says, "Awwww."

"So here's the game, Marcus! In Round One, you get a chance to spice things up by spinning the Wheel of Inches one time."

The crowd cheers and chants: "Wheel of Inches!!!!"

"Whatever number you land on is the number of inches you get added to your cock. The only catch is that those inches don't come free; you have to trade them for your height. What do you say, pal? Would you like to play?"

Marcus thinks for a moment before deciding that this is obviously a dream. "Sure. I'll play!" He steps toward the giant wheel and gives it a hard spin.

The crowd goes wild! Lights flash everywhere and a bell rings every time a segment on the wheel passes by the little arrow marking which number is chosen. Ding! Ding! Ding! The wheel spins and spins before finally starting to slow down.

"FOUR! Congratulations, Marcus, you've just won yourself four hot inches for that meaty schlong! You're going to have some fun when those arrive, I tell you what... But we don't have time for that right now because it's time for... Round Two!"

The crowd starts cheering even louder.

Marcus blinks and discovers that the wheel is gone and has been replaced by a solid-gold, totally lifelike, enormous sculpture of a veiny, fat cock and huge, heavy balls. It's twice as large as Marcus's whole body, and it sticks straight out from the wall behind Marcus. As he eyes it, the whole sculpture seems to swell slightly and a drop of thick, clear fluid appears at the head, slowly growing until its heavy enough that gravity causes it to drip down to the floor, leaving a sticky thread of slime dangling in the air.

"It's time to play... FOUNTAIN OF FORTUNE!!!"

The crowd squeals with delight.

"The rules are simple. If you look across the room you'll see five golden bags, each containing ten-thousand dollars. You can keep each bag of money if you can bring it from over there to where you're now standing while keeping it dry. Now, this is the important thing, to keep a bag it MUST stay completely dry. If even a drop from the fountain touches the sack it is forfeit. You can carry only one bag at a time, but the faster you move, the more money you'll win... probably."

Marcus thinks for a second. There's a lot he could do with $50,000. "How much time do I have?"

"Ooh, good question, Marcus. The game lasts until you slap the balls above you. Just be mindful that the longer the fountain flows, the less chance your bags of cash will stay dry."

Marcus nods, understanding. "Alright. I'm ready," he says.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Marcus! Don't going blowing your load too soon, buddy. There's just one more rule you need to know about: The Catch."

"There's a catch?"

The crowd erupts in laughter.

"Marcus, there's always a catch. This time it's this: the slimier you get playing Fountain of Fortune, the slimier you'll be. Forever... Get shot? Become a shooter! Soaking wet? Super soaker! Money bags means money shots! You got it?"

"I get it. The more cum I get on me in the game the bigger my cum loads will be, sure."

"Exactly! Still want to play?"