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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: 16 Bikini Brigade part 16 of 22 (NND) dec13
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Sixteen
“Move along, prisoners!” the gingerman nearest Freddie
shouted. He gave Freddie a gratuitous shove. Freddie stumbled, but
said nothing. He’d given up protesting. He looked at his feet. Then,
slowly, he lifted his head. A fast-moving stream ran through
meadowlands just ahead of them. Beyond it, a bon bon forest loomed.
But they’d be turning east, following the main pop rock road along the
Soda Sea. The forest was too impenetrable to try to go through it,
though if they could have, they would have had a much shorter route, and
eventually found themselves in the Lollipop Forest, near the shores of
the Sea of Cream. But many of the streams coming down out of the
Gumdrop Mountains flowed into the Bon Bon Forest. One could get lost
amidst all those tangled streams, and the Marshmellow Marshes that lay
between them. To the east, there was the long, grassy promendade of the
bluffs, that fronted the Soda Sea. There was only one marsh too, a big
one, named, not too creatively, ‘Marshmellow Marsh,’ but there was a
long bridge over it. If one could reason with the troll who’d made his
home under the bridge, or pay him a few coins, one could get by easily.
And the gingermen never paid; Tommy reluctantly gave way to them, as did
Moe, who lived further along the road, near the Citadel, in a moor made
of molasses.
The snow crunched under Freddie’s boots. He walked on a slope,
his body at an angle. As he reached the base of the slope he stepped
out onto green grass. There was a sprinkling of sugar and snow on the
grass, nothing more. Just a little ahead of them, the grass showed as a
verdant green, under the late afternoon sun. They would have an easy
time walking on it. Freddie was grateful. He’d had enough of the
Gumdrop Mountains. He vowed to himself that if he ever got free, he’d
build a new fort, on a nice grassy plain, not up high in the wind and
the snow.
Freddie glanced back. There they were, tall and magnificent.
The Gumdrop Mountains. He felt a pang of regret in his stomach. He had
hoped to create an independent kingdom there. For himself, and for the
Gingerman Autonomists. But it had all come undone when Gumdrop Guy
attacked them.
“Damn!” Freddie said. He kicked at a pebble in the grass. He
hated to think Licorice Lad had gotten the best of him. He paused,
without realizing it, and a gingerman, following behind him, bumped into
him.
“Move, Freddie,” the captured Gingerman Autonomist whispered to
him. They would both get in trouble if they were found standing still.
Freddie was, at the moment, accidentally exercising the only power he
had anymore, that of being able to hold up a column of prisoners. Of
which he was one.
“Damn,” Freddie murmured. He trudged on. The gingerman behind
him gave a sigh of relief, following.
“Who is holding up--?” A gingerman guard bellowed. Then he saw
the column was moving again, and said, “That’s it. Move along. No rest
for prisoners!”
The only consolation Freddie had was that for every step he
took, his gingerman guards had to take a step too.
Tommy aimed the gun at the sign on the wall of his hovel. It
read, “Home Sweet Home.” Near it was a calendar. It had once shown a
picture of a nude troll. Now it was covered with marshmellow goop.
“Yahoo!” Tommy cried. He pulled the trigger on his new gun.
It fired. It splattered the ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign with marshmellow
goop. “Yahoo!” Tommy yelled again.
Suddenly, he paused. He listened. He heard the sound of
hooves on the road above, and of wheels turning.
“A visitor!” Tommy yelled. “Someone’s trying to cross *my*
bridge!”
Tommy ran for the door. He swung it open and scrambled through
weeds and up the bank of the marsh onto the bridge above. Just in
time. A royal carriage, slightly battered in its appearance, was just
about to roll up onto the bridge. It was pulled by a team of
Clydesdales.
“Ho, there! You must pay a toll!” Tommy cried. The driver of
the horses pulled them up short.
“Out of the way! Sultan’s business!” the driver called out to
Tommy.
Tommy arched one of his brows. He peered hard at the
carriage. There was no doubt it was the Sultan’s Royal Carriage, even
if it did look rather muddy and ill-used. But who was riding in it?
Licorice Lad? Tommy gazed beyond the carriage, to see if there were any
gingermen marching behind it. He saw nothing but the empty grasslands
beyond.
“Who rides within?” Tommy asked. He tried to sound
threatening, as if he’d have to be well paid for the carriage to be
allowed to pass. But if Licorice Lad was in that carriage, and Tommy
held it up, he risked getting thrown in the dungeon.
“No business of a troll’s,” the driver called back. But Tommy
thought the driver sounded nervous. He was a small, round-shouldered
man, the driver. He sat hunched on the carriage’s exterior seat. Tommy
decided to risk a trip to the dungeon.
“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot you,” Tommy said to the driver. He
pointed his gun at him. For effect, he shot marshmellow goop out past
the driver’s head. The horses blanched. The driver tensed and tried to
sit lower in his seat.
Tommy pulled open the door to the carriage. A sugar plum fell
off the side of the carriage as he opened the door. Tommy looked down
at it, lying in the road. Then he looked inside the carriage. It was
purple inside, richly brocaded, fit for royalty. And there was no one
within.
“Well, well, well!” Tommy cried. He still hadn’t bathed, from
the time he’d fallen in the marsh, and he was feeling a little itchy,
but who needed a bath, if you could ride through Candyland as royalty?
Tommy hopped up inside the carriage. He glanced around and liked what
he saw. He set his gun down on one of the carriage’s benches. There
was a small cabinet built into one wall of the carriage and he opened
it. Inside a brand new bottle of champagne gleamed, along with a pair
of glasses.
“Yes!” Tommy said. He popped the champagne. Holding the
opened bottle, which spurted fizz down over his fist, and picking up his
gun, he threw open a window in the carriage and stuck out his head.
“Away, driver!” he cried. “Take me to the Citadel!” Tommy fired his
gun again, out over the marsh. The driver struck the horses at once
with his whip. They leapt up onto the bridge and began drawing the
carriage across it.
Tommy began singing:
“Oh, I’m Tommy the terrible troll,
And to the Sultan I’ll go.
I’ll ride in his coach,
And sit on his throne,
Because I’m Tommy the terrible, terrible, terrible troll!”
We polished my lollipop. We used handfuls of grass pulled from
the sugary sand dunes that bordered the sea. It gleamed. I gazed at it
admiringly.
“Now if only we can get it to fly,” I said to Pauline.
“Yes!” Pauline agreed. She was topless. I wore what had once
been the top part of her bathing suit, around my hips. It wasn’t the
most effective of coverings, but at least it kept me from being Miss
Nude Candyland. For her part, Pauline wore what remained of her suit,
after I’d borrowed the top part, a small circling band of panties around
her waist.
In the distance, I heard the sound of wheeled vehicles.
“What’s that?” I asked Pauline.
“I dunno,” Pauline replied. We were kneeling in the sand and
now we both stood up. We patted our hands against our thighs, knocking
sand off our palms. In the distance, through the stems of the
lollipops, which grew rather sparsely down near the shore where we were
standing, I could just make out a column of objects. They looked like
tumbrils. They resembled what the peanuts had been building to
transport Katie and I, if they’d been successful in imprisoning us in
peanut butter. But there were many of them. Between each tumbril I
thought I saw peanuts running along, as if the peanuts were pulling the
tumbrils.
“Is there a road there?” I asked Pauline.
“Yes,” she replied. “A big road, made of pop rocks.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Looks like peanuts are travelling along it,” Pauline offered,
gazing through the trees, as I was.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Maybe they’re going to the Citadel, to help my Daddie,”
Pauline said.
“Maybe,” I said. “And then again, maybe not. They tried to
trap Katie and me in a big vat of peanut butter.”
“Weally?” Pauline asked. “That’s not very nice. You’re a nice
person. Why would they do that?”
I sighed.
“Some ladies visited them,” I told her. “Ladies from Child
Protective Services.” Pauline looked up at me, quizzicly.
“Never mind,” I told her. “Anyway, some human ladies, from my
world, they came into Candyland looking for my friend, Katie, and me
too. They want to make us their prisoners. They convinced the peanuts
to help them.” I turned to her. “We’ve got to get to the Citadel
before they do,” I said to her. “We’ve got to find Katie, and defeat
Licorice Lad. We’ve got to free your father and then he’s got to
operate the Peppermint Portal for Katie and me, so we can go back home.
Do you think you can help me?”
“‘Course,” Katie said. “I want to help my Daddie. And you
too.”
“Good,” I told her. I knelt down. I didn’t have a lollipop
wand, so I put my finger across her shoulder. “I, Bambi, hereby do make
you a member of the... um... topless Bikini Brigade,” I told her. She
smiled. I tickled her tummy.
“Goodie!” Pauline squealed.
We laughed together. Beyond us, the column passed by, and all
was quiet again, except for the undulating waves breaking against the
shore.
“Now let’s mount up on our lollipop and see if we can get this
thing to fly!” I told Pauline.
“Okay!” she agreed.
30
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