Here it is; the awaited chapter 9, as promised! Read, cry, and review! ;) Oh, and have a nice day.


Living on the streets with nothing more than the hospital gown on your back teaches you many things. For instance, the handles of revolvers make bigger cuts and knocks you out longer than those of semi-automatics. You should take shelter not only at night but during the day, too, when the sun is at its brightest. If you catch a pickpocket in the act and break their fingers, you might as well kill them, as you've already taken their livelihood. Gas stations cannot legally deny you to drink from their hose, but it never hurts to buy something after doing so. That's just common courtesy, man, and why I now have a pine scented Little Tree in my shell. And stay as far away from the homeless shelters as possible. They're always full and even when they're not there's still no guarantee you'll walk out with the same amount of teeth you had when you walked in.

I also learned that most of, if not all, the people living on the streets really do have families and friends somewhere. But they have gotten into trouble and think that nobody can help them out. This was true for many of the ones I met. And it was also true for me.

I can hear the others talk in the distance, but I'm still confined to my room. Dr. Clawdia has been withholding everybody's privileges since my escape, because no one can, or wants to give her a clear explanation as to how it happened. Dr. von Bachstein explained her, quite tersely, that it happened because of her gross incompetence and disregard for the hospital's very strict Whiteroom protocol. Fire protocol dictates that the Whiteroom hall cannot be left unmanned. Before Clawdia's budget cuts the night staff of every ward would take shifts every hour while the available orderly sweeped the hallways. Now only one has to do the Whiteroom watch without regular replacement. Rugeley is diabetic and therefore normally excused from Whiteroom watch, but since when did the new board care about schmitails like that?

Nurse Pianta comes bearing a lunch tray and replaces the ice pack around my wrist. It's still deep blue from when Rugeley twisted it. She changes it without talking. She despises me. Maybe, if no one could hear my screams, she would break my wrist completely and snap my naughty hand right off. But I'm lonely, and after refusing the food I grab her, ignoring the shooting pain. The drugs tell me to disregard pain as it's not a useful emotion.

"You're heavy," I say. I mean it a a compliment. It is among Koopas. King Dad is the heaviest of them all and everyone wants to stand close to him, so they can sense his girth themselves. Pianta does not see it that way. And cultural differences are like painful tangles in people's hair.

"Don't be rude, Iggy Koopa." She straightens her white apron and sucks it in, but she's shaped like a little mountain, and loud. I like that. It makes me feel the urge. That's what Clawdia calls it, and she says it's dirty and wrong. But I feel it anyway and it's good. My face twitches from the pain, but I laugh. And laugh. Nurse Pianta tries to reach for her panic button, but I picked it when she put the tray down. My heart beats and I feel alive and happy as I draw in the scent of her. It's a mix of natural and chemical odors that makes my brain short-circuit with joy.

"I love it," i say. "Oh, please, Mistress, sit on me." I hold around her and try to lift her. "I want to be your doormat."

"What?!" She's terrified to even speak, either that, or she has never been with a real man before.

"Crush me. Pulverize me. Sit on me and break every bone in my unworthy body with your splendid beauty. Let me make your body quiver..." But not even kissing her hands can persuade her into favoring me. The Queen rejects my tithings of devotion, and sends for her guards to evict me from her bedchamber.

"I'm trapped inside your heart and I know its pain," I say, keeping her gaze locked in mine. "You are an overachiever in a thankless station. That's why fate sent me to you."

My words hurt her, but I'm not the one who wants her to feel bad, because as she sits on me, heating my filthy body with her divine splendor, she is also cleansing me.

"Can you heal my pain, Iggy Koopa?" She asks, and puts her hands on mine and places them on her hips. I blush; my heart swells at the sound of her voice.

"My bold and innermost desire is no less than to set you free, my Queen," I say, and I'm nervous, being this close to a superior creature exceeds both of my lifegivers' ambitions for me, their degenerate offspring.

My head feels light and my body is falling asleep; the Queen has penetrated my leg with her stinger and her sweet venom is entering my bloodstream. She wishes to dine on my mortail coil, and if this is the only way I can please the Goddess, then I will meet my maker with a smile on my face. She smiles back, and holds my hands in hers. There's no better feeling...


Bowser slid the back of his hand over the new bedspread, to avoid ripping it with its claws. It was really pretty - quilted together from patches in all kinds of colors to create a rendering of Sammer's Kingdom and it's misty mountains, the sea green sky and dramatic pine trees.

It had been an awesome wedding. After months and months of courting the Countess Koopville of Sea Side's daughter he had finally gotten their blessing, and the necessary papers had been signed. His new love interest had not been so happy with the agreement. She wanted to return to Sea Side, but her husband had given her a ring, the blessing had been spoken, witnesses had overseen the ceremony, several love spells had been read. All that remained was for the couple to consummate the marriage. Thus far the Queen had refused Bowser entry to her quarters, and didn't even eat alone with him, but this night she agreed to sleep in his bed. That was a start.

Queen Koopa exited the bathroom wearing a long flannel nightgown with yellow flowers. It covered her completely, even her wrists, neckline and ankles. Her hair had been neatly tucked into rollers and a frilly night cap. Obviously she had ignored or not seen the gift box on the bathroom counter which contained stockings, a skimpy pair of underthings and a silk nightie that would barely require a man's imagination.

From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he knew he had to have her. Her prissiness was an even bigger turnon than a pair of double d's. His other conquests had all been large and lusty, like himself, and none of them had ever neatly folded the blankets aside before entering the bed. Which, by the way, was contructed for heavy Koopas, and their passion. King Koopa could barely feel his new wife's weight next to him. He did however scoot closer to her. She pretended not to notice.

"Did you have a nice day?" The little queen had practiced the words in her head, and they would have sounded rehearsed to an individual a little more detail-oriented than Bowser.

"It was rad." He nodded and lay his massive arm over her stomach, pulling her closer.

"No," she said, and there was a definite growl to her sweet voice as she pushed Bowser's hand away. She had been raised to be a people pleaser, and she was, be it on the vaudeville stage or in her husband's bed.

"Why not?" King Koopa said like a spoiled child. "We're married now and I own you."

Bowser was an incredibly attractive Koopa. Even the little queen thought so. He had a shell that shone like emerald and a mane so thick and red it looked like actual burning fire.

"I agreed to sleep with you, not..." she lowered her voice, "do it with you."

King Koopa wanted to sigh at the ignorance of his nubile spouse. After all, she was his property. Just because his father had banned the practice of beheading disobedient consorts didn't mean there wasn't a barrage of other unpleasant fates they could be shipped off to. None of these had ever been allowed in Sea Side which was probably why the Queen dared defy him.

The moment these options crossed Bowser's selfish mind, they vanished, as he found himself liking the anger she aroused in him.

"Maybe I should punish you," he growled. "I could put you in the dungeon for the rest of your miserable life. That'd teach you a lesson."

She just scoffed.

She wasn't stupid - the castle was full of guards hardened enough to ignore her cries for help should things go so far. She wondered if the historians would ever fathom that while she was very much attracted to her husband. How her body quivered when she could feel the warmth of his hands on her. Her being untouched hadn't been a dealbreaker for him at all, strangely enough. At the time, Queen Koopa was still quite young and her inexperience with men had made her unaware of the power she possessed over Bowser. Until now. He was pining for her, but he wasn't forcing her, like he would a woman he did not respect. Hearing how his breath was heavy and shaking with lust, and seeing it in his eyes, clear as day, how much effort it took not to just pounce on her was very empowering. Queen Koopa felt a new kind of courage surge through her.

"Maybe I should teach you a lesson, King Koopa..." She climbed out of bed and stood before him, her dark eyes glittering dangeorusly. "...The only way you can learn."

Slowly she opened the lacing on top that kept the bodice properly closed. She wore a sheer slip in white lace for extra warmth underneath her flannel cocoon.

"I should neatly fold this and put it in the dresser like a good little wife," she said coquettishly.

Bowser realized that his sweet little flower had a dark side... and loved it. "If you wanna be a good little wife, all you have to do is climb back on top of me."

"Okay!" she obediently left her nightgown on her chair and seconds later, she mounted the Koopa king with a smile tugging on her lips. She stood on her knees, and only when he put his hands down on the blanket did she slowly released her hair from the rollers, one lock at a time. Giving her hair a little shake, she also removed her pretty little slip.

"Oh, please, baby, this thing is killing me!" A couple of sweatdrops formed on Bowser's forehead. Queen Koopa could imagine that as well.

Only now did she allow him to touch her. And look at her. Bowser liked what he saw, despite her being a little less... endowed than his other conquests. She had a small triangle of dark hair where her body met his, which fascinated him. It was really pretty.

"Touch it," he said, but without much authority. She did it anyway; brushed her fingers gingerly through the patch. Bowser's breath shaked as he saw a few droplets of liquid gathering in it. They glittered more beautifully than any diamond rings.

"Like this?" She closed her eyes slowly. She had never fully explored this area of her own being before. It was kind of exhilarating to do it on front of someone. Especially someone who looked like they had never seen a more amazing sight in their life.

"Out of all the women in the world, why did you choose me?" It was a cliche, but at least she wasn't afraid to ask. "After all, I know that you know I have no idea how to satisfy the needs of a king."

Bowser placed his hands on her hips and began rubbing his snout against hers. "Well... When I knocked on your dressing room door, you didn't offer to sleep with me right away. You gave me the business card of your theater troupe. I could sense right away that you weren't interested i me, or my money. We were... equals. I liked that."

"No, you didn't." the little Queen shook her head.

Bowser sighed. "It infuriated me to no end."

Passion. Genuine passion. That was what the fumbling, self-absorbed king had been treated to. He began kissing her, and his hands climbed upwards, gently resting them on her soft mounds. Finally her breath began to pick up pace, too. His mouth slid off hers and down her neck while his thumbs massaged her nipples with increasing intensity. Almost instinctively she prepared herself and allowed him to be close to her, to know her like any wife ought to know her husband. It wasn't scary, nor was it painful. It was like one of those moments in life that are ordinary, but so wonderful at the same time. Natural. Bowser slowly introduced her to a larger portion of his power; she was not at all a delicate little butterfly. Her feistiness had made him suspect that a while ago.

"More!" She gasped with each thrust. "More! Give it to me! I thought you were strong!"

He wanted to tell her that a Koopa can only be as strong as the lady's hand that holds his heart, but he was blown away by the feeling of his Queen climaxing around his own flesh. Her face, grinning with ecstasy, spoke of bliss and a paradise that were only theirs. Even a body as large as Bowser's couldn't contain this kind of pleasure. The pathetic little groans that escaped the lady's throat told him it was okay to explode. And he did.

After drifting in and out of sleep for a little while, the couple came to again.

"Are you cold?" Bowser asked.

His little Queen shivered in his arms. "A little. My nightgown is after all on the floor."

He nodded and reached for the bunch of flannel next to her nightstand. She held her arms up, and he helped her on with it. Her body was once more covered, but now he was confident that she wouldn't withhold her delicates from him. "There you go."

"Thank you, darling," she said, feeling comfy and toasty again. Bowser welcomed her next to him as 'little spoon', which would be her sanctuary and rightful place for many years.

"Honey?" She asked.

"Hm?" Bowser, who had began to board the train to Dreamland, turned on his heel.

"I know that... What we just did could, you know, make me... well..."

"A mom?" Why would that, after the things she had just showed him, make her uncomfortable?

"Yes. Would it bum you out if that happens?" She shifted the little weight she had and turned around to face him. "When I was a little girl I always hoped I'd have little Koopas one day." Her face became dreamy, and so did Bowser's. "I used to daydream about a little boy with fluffy green hair and blue eyes. Or maybe rainbow streaks and dark eyes, even. He'd be ours to hold and love and play with."

Bowser liked the thought of that. "If we have a little boy with green hair or rainbow streaks, or no hair, we'll make him the king of the ice and snow, and the brother of my blue-haired son."

"Really?" Queen Koopa lit up like a Christmas tree star. "You don't think your blue-haired son would mind?"

Bowser shrugged. "Nah. Maybe in the beginning, but I think it'll be good for him to have someone else to talk to but the Goombas. They don't, uh, connect with each other."

She smiled at him, ready to fall asleep. "I dream about a baby girl, too, sometimes. With blue eyes. But most of the time..." Queen Koopa sighed with utter contentment. "... The little boy. His hair is so soft and fluffy."

As Bowser watched his wife fall asleep, he sort of envied her having such sweet dreams. But she did deserve them. Maybe she would give him that baby girl with blue eyes one day.


The next morning I am back in my Whiteroom cell and I'm on a feeding tube. How humiliating. I think this is as bad as it gets dignity-wise, as my private areas have been padded. I wonder who signed the parenteral nutrition sheet, because legally only a family member can do that. Dr. von B told me. He's the only one that has given me any information on my rights.

What's different this time is that because Nurse Rugeley has the afternoon shift and Dr. Clawdia is not here today, I get to spend time in the living room even though I'm supposed to be on isolation.

"I'm gonna sit you down in this couch, Iggy," the Koopa Kid orderly says, "while I dole out juice boxes. If you leave this room, or tug on the tube, I'm taking you back downstairs."

"Can I have some juice?" I ask.

"Your diet list says no, so I'll say no."

As soon as he walks off I start crying like a baby, but not because I'm particularly sad. I've seen many residents return from Whiteroom stays and become hypersensitive like me when readjusting to daily life.

"Iggy," Shelly says as she sees me. I want to hide from her, but my spikes are capped. "Oh, there you are." Her voice is warm, and that's weird. Usually she stuffs trash down my shell and push me. Upon giving me a welcome home hug she indeed tucks an old receipt into the encasing. How touching.

"I don't like it when your bones are showing," she says. "Put this blanket on."

It's a fluffy Whiteroom blanket she must have traded with the crackheads of the LAPD ward; a restricted supply item and hard to come by. The Sallow Gang is paving new way.

"Why can't I drink juice?" I ask her, hoping she knows.

"It's because of the pills, Iggy." She's unusually kind today. As if I was dying, or something. I found out later that citrus juice and Silentium can release a poison in the body. Also, she knew of my risk of becoming permanently catatonic and that I wouldn't be the first resident at Freaky Fred's to end up like a vegetable because of Dr. Clawdia's pill. Shelly knew this too.

But I can't stop taking them. Yes, they've murdered my appetite and my intestines are paralyzed, I can't take a crap without a shitload of Colace. My limbs are heavy, my mouth is like the Drybake Desert and sometimes I can't move my eyes. And I don't feel anything. My heart is dead. But what happens when I don't take them is much worse. My body is rotten with putrid chemicals. It's okay. The pain is gone.

My diet list excludes shellfish, citrus fruits, coffee, tea and dairy. Even when on the tube all residents are entitled to at least one snack a day, and I've never been allowed in the day room long enough to try one of the muffins. But the first bite gets caught in my throat and I begin to throw up.

"It's okay," Shelly says and grabs a paper bin. "Better out than in, right?"

While I want to thank her, my tongue is a big, sticky lump which makes it impossible. I blink tears out of my eyes.

"Iggy? Iggy, what's wrong?"

I don't know. But my entire body is trembling violently. It can't be stopped. Again I am so fortunate as to have the staff nearby.

"What's wrong with him?!" Boo Boo drops Mr. Toast, her tanuki doll. As usual Rugeley is the only one of the staff who pays attention to her.

"A seizure. He'll be fine." He sends the others back to their rooms before sitting down by my head. The orderlies pin down my legs and arms, and he wipes away the saliva that pools in my inner cheek and escapes the corner of my mouth. "Iggy, I know you can hear me, but that you can't answer me. You're gonna be ok. We're gonna need to take you through this without giving you any drugs."

While I shake, I'm in and out of consciousness. I can't really feel my limbs as I thrash them about.

"It's almost over, Iggy. You're very brave."

My tongue returns to normal while he still holds my head. For some reason it takes longer for the right side of my body to stop shaking.

The tube is taken out so that any food stuck in my throat is dislodged, lest I get an infection or stop breathing. Shelly, as per Freaky Fred's buddy system, is ordered to look after me while Rugeley runs to fetch Dr. Clawdia.

"Water," I groan.

Shelly places a pillow under my head. "Just lie there. I'll be right back."


She set course for the water cooler in the hallway, where she saw a pretty pissed Nurse Rugeley talking to Dr. Greenkoop's secretary.

"She's not in right now," the Koopa Troopa says. "You must have gotten the memo that she's going to appear in a news slot tonight which is about to air in a minute."

"Well, you tell that bitch when she gets her ass back here..."

The news, huh? Shelly heard sobbing as she passed Jerry's door; she could see that it was locked. Hurrying back into the living room she stood below the screen which was mounted to the wall. The sound was turned off and the remote was probably in an orderly's pocket, but luckily for her the reports on the POX Network were all subtitled, as mostly only deaf old people watched this channel.


Those and bored Koopalings waiting for their favorite shows, that is. Roy Koopa had just made himself some dinner. Those fish thingies - sushi - weren't so bad after 15 minutes in a toaster oven. He poured a leftover packet of BBQ sauce from yesterday's KFC over it and sat down by the kitchen TV.

"It's the formula which has revolutionized juvenile psychiatry and will be featured in lavish presentation at the Annual Pharmaceutical Conference in Pittsburgh..."

"What the hell?" Roy dropped his steaming hot California roll. He set course for the Koopalings' private hangout room, where Ludwig was napping under his old baby blanket.

"Kooky, you gotta see this." He tore the blanket off his grouchy oldest brother.

Ludwig rolled around and continued snoring. "Get lost, pukeball."

Roy didn't respond with violence to his brother's insult. How unsettling. "No, seriously. Your girlfriend's on TV. They're doing a report on that pill of hers right now!"

That got him up.

"...The creator of the psychotropic formula Nothavitopropicarbotpatiensatole, market name Silentium, Doctor Clawdia Greenkoop."

"Thank you," Dr. Clawdia Greenkoop said as the camera turned to her. "Silentium has proven immensely effective in reducing violent behavior in the severely mentally ill. It has reduced the need for use of force at my institution, Freaky Fred Memorial Institute for the Criminally Insane."

"That's because they end up dead," Ludwig snarled. Roy shushed him, interested in something else than food and boobs, for a change.

"...And the side effects are very limited. But don't take my word for it," Clawdia said like the hack salesperson she was and wagged her finger."See for yourself at this year's conference the living proof to why Silentium is the perfect choice for everyone from disobedient children to violent psychotics."

"When Dr. Greenkoop is not spending her time tirelessly helping the unfortunate souls at Freaky Fred's ward for criminally insane juveniles, she can be found at the mall, getting hardly necessary beauty treatments and hair accessories..."

Ludwig couldn't watch anymore and turned the TV off. "Roy, remember how I told you about the simplicity of certain poisonous cocktails?"

They set course for the laboratory. "Nope," Roy replied.

"I thought not. Let me not beat around the bush, then. This conference is the opportunity of a lifetime to finally settle the score with the Hündin."

Roy Koopa adjusted his sunglasses, which he always did when he was uncomfortable. "Kooky... Um, I know that Clawdia Greenkoop did you some damage. Well, tons of it, to be exact. But don't you think it's time to let it go?"

"'Let it go'?" Ludwig turned around, which made his labcoat flare out melodramatically. "I was at her mercy once. Now our little brother is. I created the glass egg which can replicate any gene, plant or animal. Save lives and feed the hungry for a song. While she wins the award for her Shitalin formula. A drug which cost lives and only benefits her precious company. And when I called her out on her reckless disregard for life and questionable ethics she has me declared insane, my work destroyed and me sent to the hospital where she is about to begin a fellowship!"

Roy knew those were the darkest years of Ludwig's life. It was when Mama Koopa had Iggy in her belly and was constantly sick, and therefore the first priority. Bowser had signed the papers from the court without looking at them, a mistake he came to regret. Clawdia was not yet in the picture at the time, but she was about to be. Roy felt very sorry for Ludwig, at the same time he hated it when his brother dredged it up. There was nothing he could do to change what had happened.

"You said something about simple poisons...?" Roy asked.

"Yes. Iggy's bloodwork, vomitwork and urine samples show that while the psychoactive substances in Silentium can be quite poisonous, it's the side effects that present the biggest threat. I have secretly fed Silentium to the kitchen Goombas for a while. Before the levels in their serum could give them leukemia, I gave them this antidote and told them it was penicillin. Try it."

Roy took a spoonful of the fruit pulp - like, cherry red substance and sniffed it before tasting it. "Tastes like cheesecake."

"It's lime jello, Pepto-Bismol and ground Star Bits. To celestial beings, like Lumas for instance, Star Bits are merely a snack food. But to us mortals it's like eating pieces of eternal paradise. It's like an instant detox."

"But why the Pepto-Bismol?" Roy asked.

"Because it balances out the syrupy taste." Ludwig's snout crinkled. "Ew." He was glad he didn't have to disclose to his brother how he got the precious morsels. It involved sneaking into the dreaded Dark Star Prison, seeking out a large and immensely strong convict named Midbus, and bending at the waist.

"One spoonful of this a day and my brother... Well, he won't be rid of the madness in his head but it will purge the putrid poison out of his blood."

Roy nodded and grabbed his coat. "What are we waiting for?"