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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: 15 Bikini Brigade part 15 of 22 (NND) dec13
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Fifteen
Tommy had tracked marshmellow goo into his hole under the
marsh. But he didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to assemble a new
gun for himself. He pounded furiously on a length of metal with a
shorter piece of metal. His hair was a mess. It had dried two days
earlier with goo in it, and he hadn’t combed it or washed it since. He
still wore the same clothes, now dried, that he’d fallen into the marsh
with.
“Those dratted ladies!” Tommy muttered. “I’ll blast all four
of them to Kingdom Come! Especially that tall one. And the others too,
including that lady who had no hair on her head. Who ever heard of a
lady with no hair on her head?”
Tommy continued working. He thought of building a net, too,
when his gun was finished. He’d try to use it to trap an eclair. It
would be easier, finding the women, if he could ride high above
Candyland, on the back of an eclair, looking for them. But the problem,
of course, was that even if he managed to trap an eclair, and get on its
back, and then get the net off it (if he used a net), how would he
control the damn thing?
“If I could just make reins for it, and a bit,” Tommy said to
himself, still pounding on the piece of metal. “Then I might control
it. Or if I had a big clump of grass, maybe, on the end of a fishing
pole. I could sit on its back and dangle the grass in front of it.
Then it would fly in whatever direction I moved the grass...” It was an
absurd-sounding idea, but then so was the idea of shooting marshmellow
goop out of a gun.
“The Nudie Brigade?” Pauline asked me.
“Huh?” I replied. We had found my flying lollipop and we were
dragging it, together, up out of the surf. On the beach lay my gun. It
was squirting cream, at the moment, but I hoped if I kept pulling its
trigger that it would eventually start squirting marshmellow goop
again. The cream looked nice, coming out of the gun, but it wasn’t
sticky, like the marshmellow goop was. It was like being armed with a
water pistol.
“The Nudie Brigade?” Pauline asked me again.
“Omigosh!” I cried. I suddenly realized I was totally naked.
I leapt up from where I’d been standing, hunched over the lollipop. I
clapped my hands over my breasts. Then, realizing my pubis was bare, I
put my hands over it, only to leave my tits hanging free, like women you
see in Polynesia. I gazed out across the Sea of Cream, wondering where
my bikini was. I’d lost it somewhere, falling from the sky. Thinking
back, I remembered my tits bouncing free of my bra, sometime during my
sky battle with Katie. But I’d been so busy fighting her, at the time,
I had barely noticed. The sea glided in around my lollipop, threatening
to pull it back out into the surf. Pauline looked up at me with wide
eyes. My lollipop lay at our feet. Half of it was up out of the creamy
sea, lying on the sand. The other half was still submerged. A wavelet
rippled up over its seat.
“You can wear my swimsuit,” Pauline said to me.
“No, that’s okay,” I said, glancing down at her little
one-piece. Then a thought occurred to me. “You know, I said, if you
don’t mind going topless, we could cut your swimsuit in half. Then I’d
at least have a bottom. And you’d have a bikini. Which is necessary, I
suppose, if you’re going to be a member of the Bikini Brigade.”
“Okay,” Pauline said. She pulled the straps of her one-piece
down off her arms. She showed her tits. They were twin little buds of
flesh, like pink cherries. She pulled her suit down farther, exposing
her 6-year-old tummy. I looked at her navel. I hated to rob her of
half her swimsuit, but there seemed no other way, unless I wanted to be
a nudist. I watched as she bared her cunny and pushed her suit down her
legs to her feet. She stepped out of it, tramping upon it as she did
so. Six-year-olds are not the most graceful strippers. Happily she
held it up to me.
“Here! We’ll share!” Pauline said. And I realized that, if I
didn’t insist upon it, she’d probably be content to run around naked,
with no suit at all, and to be, indeed, a member of a newly-formed
‘Nudie Brigade’.
[Note: for an exclusive photo of Bambi in the nude, by the Sea
of Cream, check out Playboy’s Nudes, December 1997, pgs. 58-59. It’s a
$6.95 magazine that’s at your newstand now! Or try surfing to:
http://www.playboy.com
The caravan of tumbrils rolled along under trees shaped like
lollipops.
“It’s the Lollipop Forest,” Peanut Butter Polly said to
Matilda, gazing out at the road ahead of them. A team of peanuts was
pulling the tumbril they rode in. More tumbrils followed theirs, all of
them pulled along by peanuts.
“The what?” Matilda asked.
“The Lollipop Forest, dear,” Polly said. They passed through
groves of lollipops. The suckers were different sizes, and different
colors, red and green and blue and lavender and orange, and while some
of them were smaller than their tumbril, many lollipops were so big they
stood over their heads. They cast long shadows in the afternoon sun.
“They must have filmed a Shirley Temple movie here,” Wilma
said.
“She’s pretty cute,” Al said. “Um, you know, at dancing,” he
added quickly, seeing Matilda give him an angry frown. “She’s quite
talented... at dancing!”
“Well, they should have taken the damn props down by now,”
Matilda scowled. “Who ever heard of leaving an old movie set intact for
this long?”
“Do you mind if we stop?” Al asked. “I really do have to go to
the bathroom.”
“I’m afraid some of the peanuts do too,” Polly said. “I don’t
think they’re running with such alacrity, some of them, entirely due to
their enthusiasm for our mission.”
“Oh, alright,” Matilda said. “Have them stop running. We’ll
get out and all have ourselves a break.”
Polly called to the peanuts to stop pulling their tumbril.
Behind them, other peanuts, hearing her command, passed it back along
the column. All of the tumbrils stopped.
Al got down and went into the Lollipop Forest. He relieved
himself against the base of a long-stemmed red lollipop.
“Ahhhh,” Al said to himself, listening as he peed. He gazed
back behind himself. Through the sticks of the thickly clustered
lollipop trees, he could just make out part of the sign on their lead
tumbril: ‘PMS Enterprises.’ Which stood, of course, for ‘Polly and
Matilda to the Sultan.’ It was a daunting enterprise, trying to locate
two missing girls on this giant movie set, but there seemed no other
way. They still hadn’t found a telephone. And they’d gotten where they
were quite oddly, by some contrivance that appeared to transport them
across a vast sea, on a rainbow. The only way to find the girls, and
get out of the damn place they were in now, seemed to be to follow the
main road. How odd that it was made out of purple gravel, though, and
that all the extras helping them in their search never took off their
costumes. The old woman, Polly, remained in her peanut butter colored
attire. And the midgets seemed entirely satisfied to remain dressed up
as peanuts.
“Odd. Very odd,” Al nodded to himself. He zipped himself up.
“Ah well, we must find those girls,” he said to himself. “Can’t have
them just running around loose. They need supervision. Children must
be protected at all times!”
30
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