The New Record

By Conway Carver

Ludwig Von Koopa's latest scheme to get ahead in Kart Racing breaks more than a fe benchmarks. This story contains massive weight gain inflicted on a character from a beloved childhood franchise, shades of macro, size induced property destruction, and poor table manners.

Caveat Lector

Written for Chonkwig (Twitter) (Furaffinity)-- one of the rare sick puppies with whom I share specific character obsession. Make Ludwig Heavy Again.

I

A rancorous din echoed off the high-vaulted ceilings of Castle Koopa's dining hall. Chandeliers swayed in the rafters. Their lights glowed faintly and shrouded the evening diners in warm orange. Koopa servants gathered spent plates as conversation petered into a dull roar.

Roy was first to leave as usual, eager to cash his digesting calories at the gym. Morton, his mouth no longer preoccupied with chewing, dipped fully into the finer details of his latest animated obsession. Lemmy nodded and smiled as he batted at his pony-tail, his input scarce but eager.

Ludwig paid his siblings little mind as he scooped the remaining slabs of roast beef onto his plate. He slathered the tender meat in a blizzard of mashed potatoes, garnishing the edges of his plate with candied piranha-plant heads. Ludwig sunk his teeth into the beef and tore a chunk free with a snarling snort.

Iggy, seated beside the hefty koopa prince, looked up from his notebook. A half-scribbled formula trailed off as his pencil glided off the paper.

"You're not done?"

"No," Ludwig grunted and he shoveled more food into his maw. He shot Iggy a sidelong glare.

"Don't look at me like that," Iggy tightened the straps on his glasses, "just, wow, I think you actually ate the whole cow tonight."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but couldn't deny that the servants were carting away more empty dishes than usual. A throbbing pain squeezed his innards. Ludwig winced, but he stuffed the last bit of potatoes down his waiting gullet. He leaned back in his seat, his paws glided across the scaley expanse of his stomach. Ludwig pushed into the plush layer of his love handles and kneaded out the seat of his discomfort.

Ludwig's lips sputtered as he stifled a belch. He sighed, some relief, and he looked past the parabola of his flabby chest at the piranha-plant heads. Another bite and he was certain he might burst. Ludwig pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, inhaled deep through his nose, and exhaled slowly.

He speared the white-spotted morsel with his foreclaw. His tongue slithered around the fruit and he slurped it down. Crunch. The sugary juices flooded his mouth.

"Hmm," Ludwig closed his eyes, eating another, then another. Whether he burst or not, he still basked in sugar induced euphoria.

"What was that, your eighth plate?"

Tenth. A new record. Ludwig wheezed as he slumped back. Full was an understatement. His poor distended gut brushed against the table even as he leaned back.

"Iggy, shut up," Ludwig closed his eyes.

Iggy drew a circle on his notebook, swirling it around and around until the doodle thickened, "I'm just wondering what's gotten into you, that's a lot of food, even for you.."

Ludwig cracked one eye open, "trust me, I know," Ludwig slouched in his seat. Everything hurt.

"Wait, so, you pushed yourself to eat all that," Iggy cocked his head, "on purpose? Are you stress eating or something?"

"If I say yes, will you stop bothering me?"

"Only if you tell me why," Iggy leaned forward with his chin resting in his hands.

Ludwig pinched his brow. Anything to stop the incessant questions. Ludwig reached up and tousled his bang with his claw.

"Kart tryouts are coming up."

Iggy's brow screwed, but then his eyes flickered alight: "you're trying to change your weight class."

Ludwig nodded, "stats show superheavies have higher top-speeds."

"Going downhill, maybe," Iggy snickered, "their poor karts can barely accelerate them to top-speed, one bad turn or wipe out and it's going to be a long and lonely race in eighth place."

"If I wipe out," Ludwig squinted.

"Oh yeah, you get big enough maybe the shells'll just bounce off you, why didn't I think of that?"

Ludwig scoffed, "yeah we'll see who's laughing at the Grand Prix." Ludwig patted his belly, and sighed. He shifted his plate aside, he picked around the tabletop with his claws until he found it: a stout vial of tarry black liquid. Ludwig uncorked a vial and dumped the black contents down his throat. He smacked his lips.

"Luddy, what was that?" Iggy whispered.

"Megacap Extract," Ludwig said.

Iggy folded his arms.

"it's diluted a bunch, relax."

"Ludwig..."

"Even if I eat a house every day, I'm not putting on enough mass. I did the math," Ludwig rolled the vial between his fingers.

"I'm pretty sure you're already in the next weight class."

"I said super heavy, I've got my sights set on breaking records Iggy."

"You'll be breaking things alright. You've got no idea what concentrated extract'll do to you. We've only tested it on livestock."

"It makes them bigger, it does exactly what we think it'll do," Ludwig inspected his plump hand. Ludwig's stomach roared and he gasped, "oh Stars," he hugged his chest, "speaking of which, Morton," Ludwig called across the table, "are you guys gonna eat that?"

II

Ludwig knocked back a vial of extract and then a mug of stout ale. The foam trickled down his first chin, then his second, and then off the wobbly beginning of his third. His stomach gurgled and swayed, his cheeks rosey with alcohol.

He barely registered the weight of dinner stirring in his guts. Ludwig licked his lips. He reached past his fork and scooped fistfuls of casserole into his face. Ludwig suckled his claws clean, his eyes lazily scanned over the other leftovers. A ham hock, half stripped to the bone, caught his attention.

Ludwig leaned forward, his gut spread over his lap and onto the table. The empty casserole dishes clattered as he took the hock in both of his hands. Ludwig tore into meat, his gnashing and snarling. A bubbly warmth tingled inside his chest as he sucked the bone clean. His seat buckled and squeaked softly.

Ludwig blinked, his head swimming. As he looked down he could have sworn he saw the edges of his moobs push outward. He pinched the roll, his jaw slacked.

Maybe he just never realized how big they were lately? Ludwig licked his teeth and sighed.

"I can't believe you're still in here," Iggy poked his head into the kitchen.

"Can't talk," Ludwig said between mouthfuls of bread rolls, "working."

Iggy stood beside his brother, "Luds, uh," Iggy looked his sibling up and down, "hey, I know it sounds like I might've been mean spirited and about this and all, but," Iggy cleared his throat, "now I'm actually sorta worried."

Ludwig paused eating and glanced over his shoulder, his shell seemed to get smaller and smaller every day as his flabby lats spread wider. Ludwig's gut slipped off the table, the lowest curve bounced against the tops of his thighs.

"Worried?"

"Yeah, I mean, this is getting a little excessive, isn't it?" Iggy shrugged.

Ludwig put a hand on the roundest curve of his hip, "wh-what," he hiccuped, "do you mean?"

"I mean how far into the superheavy class are you actually trying to go?"

Ludwig held up his index claw, he stumbled a bit, "I was thinking about it, and," Ludwig steadied himself on the table --Iggy winced as it creaked -- Ludwig slurred his words, "what were we talking about again?"

"Ludwig, you don't quit now and your only chance at crossing the finish line is if someone rolls you over."

"Iggy," Ludwig stomped toward his brother, the dishes on the table rattled, "on dad's practice track, I beat world-record time trials, I," Ludwig sniffed, "I think just a little bigger, and no one's gonna beat my records." His looming shadow covered Iggy and he put a meaty hand on Iggy's shoulder.

Iggy felt microscopic in the presence of this massive koopaling he called his brother. His lips tightened. "You're gonna be the world's first living land mark if you don't slow it down." Iggy mumbled.

"He--" Ludwig burped, "hey I'm gonna," the warmth stirred in Ludwig's stomach again, his words faltered, and he turned slowly toward the table.

Iggy sighed and folded his arms as Ludwig licked a plate of mashed potatoes clean.

III

A koopa servant mumbled softly to himself, he dusted a painting of the Pipelands, then straightened the frame. The servant looked up and down the hall at his handiwork. He wiped his sweaty brow on his forearm, his beak settled into a lazy smile.

Toom.

The servant turned toward the end of the hallway "Stars above..."

Toom. Toom. Toom.

The paintings on the wall tilted askew, some fell to the floor. Ludwig lurched around the corner, his ponderous belly forced his hips into a hefty sashay. His hair was askew, face beet red.

The servant's eyes widened as Ludwig approached. The koopaling was a broad glacier of flab, his punished thighs were thick with chunk and muscle -- twitching and aching as they carried their gargantuan master. Ludwig barely registered the servant bouncing from his belly as he made his way to the Kart Track.

This was it, Ludwig forced a determined grin, he was going to make the roster this time. Or maybe several spots on the roster, he blushed as his monstertruck spare tire bowled over furniture and servants.

Step after agonizing step, he made it...

Was it just him, Ludwig wiped his chins of sweat, or was this walk getting longer every time?

Karts lined the garage as hopefuls made their final tuneups. Ludwig gasped for breath as he stood before his motorbike -- the super-heavy class frame was imposing among its smaller class brethren. Wider, taller, heavier than its peers, just like its driver.

Ludwig swung his leg over the side of the kart, his hips seared as his weight shifted onto one leg. The awkward load of his sagging extremities wobbled side to side, the lowest curve of his belly drizzled lazily across the handlebars.

"Alright," Ludwig exhaled. Eager to finally take his weight off his long-suffering legs. He sat on the Kart.

All was still. Then metal moaned, silver bearings and bolts popped out of place.

The Kart collapsed like an empty soda can beneath Ludwig's buttocks.

IV

Servants rushed to and from the kitchen. Amidst the shouting and screaming there was a chorus. Iggy cocked his head to better hear it, still unable to register the sound, he pushed past the kitchen staff. The faint chant grew louder.

"...chug, chug, chug."

Iggy peered over the heads of the throng. The long dining table divided the spectators from the spectacle -- Ludwig held a keg of ale to his maw. Iggy could hear his deep glugging above the cheering crowd. Iggy crossed his arms, sitting on the table pumping his fist, was Lemmy.

"Lemmy?" Iggy hissed.

Lemmy stopped mid-chant, he turned and met Iggy with his usual grin, "hey Stretch!"

"Stars above, what're you doing here?"

"Being supportive," Lemmy crossed his arms, "didn't you hear?"

Iggy shook his head, his eyes trained on Ludwig.

"I, well, why don't you ask the big guy himself," Lemmy rubbed the back of his head.

Iggy crawled over the table to Ludwig's end.

Ludwig gasped as he came to the end of his keg. He let the barrel roll down his chest and bounce off his body to the floor. He waited a moment, then loosed a long sigh, "ugh, seriously? That wasn't enough?"

"Luddy, er," Iggy craned his neck back to look up at his brother. Iggy clenched his teeth trying to find the words.

Ludwig scratched his cascading gut, his neck fat bunched up as he stared down at Iggy, his tall stalk-like hair poked past the horizons of his bloated moobs.

"Oh, hey," Ludwig rumbled, "come to rub it in?"

"Rub what in?"

"Got disqualified," Ludwig growled, "too big for Kart Racing."

"T-too," Iggy crossed his arms, there was a deep fire in Ludwig's eyes, "too big."

"Maybe you were right, I overdid it," Ludwig hoisted the entirety of his globular belly and shook it, it wobbled and shivered like an ocean of gelatine, "but...it's like I couldn't stop it. Every inch bigger I felt..." Ludwig's face burned bright red.

"It sucks, sure," Iggy composed himself, "but there's better ways to cope, didn't you try music like normal?"

"Too fat for the bench," Ludwig wiggled his hips, his lower body a throne of his own making, "and between my gut sitting on the keyboard and these sausages," Ludwig held up his plump fingers, "there's no way."

Iggy crossed his arms nervously.

"And now I'm so big that one of these," Ludwig hoisted the emptied keg with one arm, "does nothing."

Iggy looked at Ludwig's beanbag-shaped biceps which, despite their appearance, were still strong enough to hoist and toss around a whole keg of ale. Iggy squinted, the ale bore a Mushroom insignia. Iggy stifled a curse.

"But you know what," Ludwig scratched his third chin, "I think you're right Iggy."

"Ludwig, your extract it--" Iggy stuttered.

"I'm going to break some records," Ludwig said, "now get me another keg from the cellar."

"Luddy, it's an MK import, dad must've got it for the Kart Races, it's got Redcap extract in it! It's interacting with the Megacap you've been slipping yourself."

Ludwig yoked Iggy by the back of his shell. With surprising power and swiftness, he raised Iggy's face to his eye level.

"In that case, two kegs..."

Iggy gulped and nodded.

V

Ludwig raised a rack of barbeque ribs to his maw. He slurped the bones clean of meat and sauce. With a crocodilian bite, he crunched through the bone and sucked out the marrow.

Servants watched the display, their own bones rattling as they moved quickly to appease the growing prince. A small trio of koopa servants kneaded and rubbed Ludwig's gut. It rumbled and lurched across the floor, knocking the dining hall table inches forward.

Ludwig groaned, "are you even trying?"

The servants stopped and looked up at him.

"I didn't say stop," he flashed his teeth.

They yelped and worked faster, their hands pushing deeper, and their eyes intense with fear.

Ludwig reached for his plate of ribs, only to find that it bare -- not even the bones were left, his brow scrunched.

"How am I supposed to be the world's first living landmark if you don't keep the food coming?"

Iggy, standing a good ways across the room, cringed. Certainly not the first time his mouth got him in trouble.

Briscuit, pulled pork, pulled chicken -- bowl after bowl just slathered in sweet barbeque sauce. Ludwig gorged on the whole pile with his bare claws. Stuffing his greedy maw with mouthful after mouthful. Barely even taking time to chew before horking down another bite. His blobby cheeks folded against his neck as he chewed, and his neck flab wobbled into his moobs and back rolls.

"Y-your massiveness?" A kitchen servant stood with his hands in his apron pocket, he started with a bow.

"Mf," Ludwig said, a long strip of pork dangled from his lips.

"At this rate we're going to run out of food and--"

Ludwig's stomach churned, he glowered daggers at the staff, "out of food?"

The kitchen staff nodded.

"You might wanna figure that out then," Ludwig squeezed his belly and shivered, "lately I can't think straight when I'm hungry, and everything starts looking tasty."

The kitchen staff turned on his heels and ran to the kitchen. The belly massaging crew looked at one another.

"It's alright, I'll save you guys for last," Ludwig licked his lips.

Iggy pinched his brow and sighed. He needed to think of something...anything...

But then, he had no clue how the megacap and redcap concoction was reacting, or how much Ludwig took before his big change.

"I wonder how long it's gonna take him to get big enough to be a landmark," Lemmy crossed his arms, "maybe he'll wanna slow down when he finally gets there."

Iggy adjusted his glasses, "might be sooner than you think," he shook his head.

VI

Ludwig's eyes fluttered open. A soft smile on his lips, the perks of such a size -- everywhere is a bed and cushion. He yawned, his entire body jiggled and rumbled. The last remaining supply of ale lay in a stack at Ludwig's "foundation." He wiggled forward.

Either the servants had wisened up, or they were trying to apologize in advance for the coming day. Ludwig didn't care, in that moment he chugged the first keg with gusto.

Deep inside his core he felt that brewing warmth. It tickled his throat and sat in his sinuses. Maybe...another...and another...

Iggy watched, barely remembering to breathe.

Ludwig's cheeks burned rosy red, his eyelids heavy. Then, all at once, a deep rumble shook him to the core. Ludwig gasped and groaned. Slowy, his body rose. His thighs thickened larger as his calves vied for space.

He should have been worried, but then, it all felt so grand. He could barely concentrate. His gut spilled forward like a river of syrup. It tipped the table over and crushed it beneath his expanse. His left cheek swelled larger until it never left his line of sight, then his right cheek bubbled up to match. The back of his neck began to shift, inflating steadily.

Ludwig tried to twist and turn, but the fat surrounded his head into a plush vice. His breathing passages clear by virtue of his growing cheeks.

Ludwig barely had a shape now -- his arms bulged into forms beyond recognizable appendages, and became simple fatty extensions. His back rolls pressed against the masonry of the dining hall, and as he stared upward he found the ceiling coming ever closer.

The walls cracked, dust settled on Ludwig's lardy haunches. Wood splintered. Ludwig leaned back to adjust the blobby mass that used to be his backside.

And the dining hall crumbled like a house of cards.

VII

"In other bizarre news, it sounds like King Bowser of the Darklands had a slip up!"

"Really now?"

"That's right Todd. One of the K-TV blimps caught a surprise peak at Bowser's latest remodeling for this year's Kart Races. Here let's catch the clip that's blowing up online."

Iggy and Lemmy leaned closer to Iggy's tablet, their hands hovering above a bowl of potato chips.

The camera footage sprinted to the blimp's observation window -- Castle Koopa visible on the skyline. There was shouting, hard to make out, and then it happened. An entire wing of the castle crumbled. A growing yellow shape spilled out of the wreckage. A distinct mop of blue hair hidden amongst the rolls and hills cued the footage to stop.

"Now would you look at that, if I had to wager a guess Todd, it looks like a mountain themed after Ludwig Von Koopa. Not the direction I expected for Bowser's castle!"

"Wow, another mountain course? Thrilling."

"I bet it's a response to recent critiques that Bowser's playing favorites with his youngest son."

"All I know is I can't wait to see how this year's--"

Iggy paused the video. He glanced over his shoulder at Ludwig's bloated face.

"Wow, went from Kart Racer to Kart Track, satisfied yet?"

"Shut up," Ludwig said, his voice muffled by his cheeks and chins, a deep rumble shook the entirety of 'Mt. Ludwig,' "er, can you pass me some chips?"

Iggy shrugged and held the bowl to Ludwig's face.

--End--