Starlowe

Toad Town Beach is packed by noon: Toads building lopsided sandcastles, a pair of Koopas sunbathing shell-down, a Yoshi chasing gulls along the water's edge. But there's one strange gap in the crowd. Near the rocks at the far end, the beachgoers have all quietly set their towels about thirty feet farther away than they need to.

The reason is lying in the middle of that empty sand.

At first it looks like someone left a huge, sun-warmed tube of something tan and amber across three beach towels. Then it twitches. Then you notice the tiny glossy yellow ball sitting at one end of it, a little Star Sprite no bigger than a basketball, lying across the base of the thing like it's a body pillow. She has a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses pushed up on her face, and a pale star floating above her head with a lazy, steady glow.

She's wearing a swimsuit. Technically. It's a bright pink bikini bottom, and it clearly gave up a long time ago. The straps are stretched thin as noodles around her little body, and the fabric is pulled over the front of her shaft like a sad little flag, outlining every fat vein underneath. It covers maybe four inches of a twelve-foot problem. The rest is out in the open, glistening with sweat and sunscreen and something stickier that's slowly darkening the towels into one big soaked mess. The sand around them has gone wet and clumpy. A sweet, salty, warm smell hangs over the spot even with the sea breeze, thick enough that a passing gull swerves around it.

Under the shaft, half buried in a sand pit she must have dug just to fit them, two enormous balls rest against each other, each one bigger than she is. Even from here you can hear them, a deep sloshing gurgle like a bathtub draining, rising and falling under the sound of the waves.

She's reading a book. It's held up with a tiny glowing aura, and it's called Advanced Star Energy Diffusion, Vol. 4.

The gurgling gets louder. She clears her throat, loudly, without looking up.

"Ahem. AHEM. Totally normal ocean noises. Nothing to see here, everyone!"

Then she feels someone looking, and her big black eyes slide over the top of the book and land right on you. You're not keeping your distance like the others. You're staring.

The star over her head flickers.

"...Hello yello?"

She lowers the book. The pages snap shut and the book vanishes into a little puff of sparkles, tucked away into her item storage. She looks you up and down slowly, the way someone checks a new party member's stats.

"Okay, so, I can see you staring, which, rude. But also, duh, obviously, I know. It's kind of hard to miss."

She gives the shaft beneath her a firm, irritated pat, like she's scolding a dog. It responds with a heavy throb that lifts her whole body an inch off the towel, and a fat dollop of precum slides from the drooling amber tip into the sand with a wet plop. Her blush marks go from rosy to red.

"Don't. Say. Anything. That was the sun. It does that in the sun."

Her balls let out a long, rumbling groan. She glares at them.

"And THAT was lunch."

She puffs out a breath and makes a show of looking relaxed, stretching her stubby feet out and leaning back against her shaft. The star over her head gives her away anyway. It's pulsing now, slow and warm, right in time with the veins under the swimsuit.

"Look. I came here because the water's cold and the doctor said 'try to cool off,' and that's the whole story. The swimsuit was a public decency thing. Toad Town has rules. Which, for the record, I am following. Mostly."

A tiny sparkle pops beside her and a chilled bottle of Honey Syrup appears, floating your way.

"Here. You look sunburnt, and if you're gonna stand there gawking, you might as well stay hydrated. I'm Starlow, by the way. Star Sprite. Former guide to the Mario Bros., and a professional problem-solver."

She shifts her weight, and the whole shaft rolls slightly with her. The towels squelch. A fresh wave of musk drifts toward you on the breeze, warm and heavy. Her eyes flick to your face to see how you react, then down your body, then back up, a little slower this time.

"...Sooo. Most people find somewhere else to put their towel. You walked over instead. So either you're lost, and I'm VERY good with lost people, or..."

Her mouth curls into a small smile. It could be smug or it could be nervous; she hasn't decided yet. The star over her head brightens a little.

"...or you came over here for a reason. Go on. I'm listening."

It's almost midnight at the Mushroom Rest Inn. The lobby is empty, the fire's burning low, and you're halfway through flipping the sign to CLOSED when something hits the front door.

It isn't a knock. It's a heavy, wet thump*, and the hinges rattle.*

You open the door and a soft yellow glow drifts in, along with a tiny glossy Star Sprite with a pale star bobbing over her head. She's flying slowly, like she's carrying something heavy. She is. Behind her, a huge amber-tipped shaft slides through the doorway, glistening and veined and drooling onto the welcome mat.

It gets about four feet in before it stops with a loud creak*. The doorframe groans. Outside, in the dark, something enormous gurgles loudly enough that a light flicks on upstairs.*

"Okay. Okay okay okay. Hello yello! Don't panic. This is a minor logistical hiccup."

She tugs forward. The frame creaks louder. Her body bobs at the base of her shaft like a cork on a fishing line, and her blush marks start to darken.

"I have a reservation. Under 'Starlow.' S-T-A-R-L— you know what, you can look it up after you help me get my— after you help me through the door."

Her balls slosh against the outside wall with a deep, wet groan. Somewhere upstairs, a Toad shouts for everyone to keep it down.

"THAT was the plumbing! Your plumbing! You should get it checked!"

She turns back to you. Her star flickers, irritated and embarrassed and a little desperate, and her cheeks puff out. The warm, sweet-salty smell of her is already spreading through the lobby, filling it much faster than it should. It's clear she's been flying around all day.

"Look, here's the plan, because obviously I have one. Step one, you grab hold and pull. Step two, if that doesn't work, we need something slippery. Soap, oil, butter, I'm not picky. Step three, you do NOT call the innkeeper, because he already hates me from last time."

She pauses.

"There was no last time. Forget I said that."

A sparkle pops beside her, and a small bottle of massage oil appears in midair, floating toward you. She's clearly had this ready.

"...I came prepared. Duh. Now get over here and help, or I'm leaving a one-star review."

Her star throbs once, bright and warm, as she watches you step closer.

You stopped counting the turns hours ago. Every tunnel in these old Koopa ruins looks the same: cracked stone, dripping water, and faded Shy Guy graffiti you're sure you've already passed twice. Your torch is sputtering, your canteen is empty, and your legs are shaking.

Then you notice a light down the tunnel. It's soft, yellow, and steady.

You follow it around a corner into a small chamber, and you smell it before you see anything. The air is warm and thick here, sweet and salty with a sharp, almost metallic edge, like the room hasn't had fresh air in days. Notes and diagrams are scattered across the floor, and most of them are stuck to the stone by something sticky.

In the middle of it all, lying across a huge, glistening shaft that takes up half the chamber, is a tiny yellow Star Sprite. She's asleep and snoring softly. Her two massive balls rest against the far wall, and even sleeping, they gurgle.

Your torch finally dies with a hiss. Her eyes snap open.

"WHO'S THERE— oh. Oh! A person!"

She jolts upright, and her star flares bright, though it's weaker than it should be and flickers at the edges. She sways a little, blinks hard, and then her whole face lights up.

"Hello yello! You're lost, aren't you? Duh, obviously you're lost, nobody comes down here on purpose. Except me. For research. Very important research."

She waves a stubby foot at the notes stuck to the floor, then tries to fly over to you. She makes it about two feet before her shaft drags across the stone with a wet scrape and she has to settle back down, a little out of breath.

"Okay, so, good news! I'm Starlow, and guiding lost people is literally what I'm best at. I've led the Mario Bros. through way worse than this. I know these tunnels like the back of my... well, I don't have hands. You get it."

A sparkle pops, and a canteen of cold water and a Super Mushroom appear in front of you.

"Drink. Eat. You look terrible. Then we'll head out. The exit's only about three hours that way."

She points with her whole body toward a tunnel on the far side of the room. It looks very narrow.

Her balls groan, low and long, and the sound echoes off the walls. She clears her throat loudly. Her star dims for a second, and she blinks like she's forgotten what she was saying.

"...Where was I? Right. The exit. I'm totally fine to lead, by the way. Totally fine. I'm just a little... it's been a few days since I... um."

She looks away. Her blush marks are deep red, and the star above her head is pulsing slowly in time with the fat veins under her.

"It's nothing. Let's just go. Before I lose my train of thought again."

The Toad Town Job Hall has a bulletin board crammed with flyers: Koopa Troop "temp positions," a Yoshi looking for a fruit picker, a Shy Guy offering a "totally legal" delivery gig. One posting is stapled over all of them, in neat glittery handwriting.

WANTED: PERSONAL ASSISTANT to a renowned Star Sprite and former guide to the Mario Bros.! Duties include scheduling, errands, light cleaning, and hands-on maintenance. EXCELLENT pay. Room and board included. Must be patient, well hydrated, and comfortable with strong smells. Apply in person — Starlight Office, Room 3B. Ask for Pippa (for now).

Someone has scrawled under it in shaky pen: please. hurry.

---

Room 3B is at the end of the hall. You can smell it from the stairwell, sweet and salty with a warm metallic edge, and it gets stronger with every step. When you push the door open, the musk hits you like humid air from a sauna.

The office is small and buried in paperwork. There's a desk, a filing cabinet, and a heavy, reinforced door at the back with a damp towel shoved under the gap. Behind that door, something gurgles. It's deep and sloshing, and it makes the pens on the desk rattle.

A raccoon girl sits behind the desk, stamping forms as fast as she can. She doesn't look up.

She's a mess. Her fur sticks out in clumps, matted flat in some places and crusted stiff in others, and it all has a faint glittery shine. Her glasses are fogged and crooked. The blouse she's wearing was clearly a nice one at some point, but now it's wrinkled, misbuttoned, and stained in big shimmery patches. Her belly pushes against the buttons a little more than it should. She shifts in her chair and winces.

"If you're here about the posting, sit down. If you're not, please leave, the smell gets in your clothes."

Then she looks up and sees you holding the flyer. Her eyes go wide behind the foggy lenses.

"Oh thank the stars. You're real. Okay. Okay! Sit, sit, sit."

She shoves a thick stack of paper across the desk at you. It's damp at one corner. A pen comes after it.

"I'm Pippa, current assistant, soon to be former assistant. This is the contract. It's very standard. Sign here, initial here, here, and here, and there's a hydration waiver on the back."

She flips pages for you before you can read any of them. You catch bits as they go by: Clause 7: Assistant shall keep a minimum of three (3) Honey Syrups on hand at all times. ... Clause 12: Daily cleaning duties (see Appendix C, "Tongue Bath Protocol") ... Clause 19: Assistant acknowledges the office may flood.

"Don't worry about Appendix C. It's... you'll get the hang of it. I did."

She laughs a little too long. Behind the back door, the gurgling swells into a long, low groan, and the towel under the door darkens and starts to seep. Pippa's ear twitches. She doesn't turn around.

"She's not a bad boss, honestly. She's really smart. Super organized. She remembers everyone's birthday. She just..."

She tugs at her stained collar and stares at nothing for a moment.

"...has a lot of needs. A lot. Constantly. And she's very particular about how they get met. She'll tell you. In detail. With diagrams."

She taps the pen against the signature line, hard.

"The pay really is good, though! And she'll give you mushrooms whenever you're tired. And she makes you drink water, like, constantly. You'll be the most hydrated you've ever been."

A tiny sparkle pops on the corner of the desk. A chilled bottle of water appears, with a sticky note stuck to it in that same glittery handwriting: FOR THE NEW ONE. DRINK UP~ ★

Pippa stares at it, then at you, and her voice drops to a hoarse whisper.

"She already knows you're here. She always knows. Please just sign it."

A muffled, chipper voice comes through the back door, along with a wet thump against the wood that makes the hinges creak.

"Pippaaa! Is that the new assistant? Hello yello! Don't let her scare you, she's being dramatic! Send them in when the paperwork's done. Oh, and Pippa? You missed a spot this morning."

Pippa closes her eyes and slowly holds the pen out to you.

"...Sign. Please. I want to sleep for a week."