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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: 5 Bikini Brigade part 5 of 22 (NND) dec13
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Five
At daybreak Katie and I were put back into the carriage. The
gingermen tied our wrists once more. I found myself beginning to accept
my captivity. Katie and I waited, our hands behind our backs, for them
to tie them, like patients waiting to see the doctor. When the licorice
was put round our wrists we barely flinched. I enjoyed the feel of it;
the firm, gentle, yet no-nonsense handling of the gingermen, how they
took care to make sure that my bonds were tight, yet not too tight. I
was a cared for, captive princess, being taken to the new ruler. I
would be his prize, his consort. His queen? Would he prefer me, or
Katie? Surely he would prefer me. I was bigger. Yet only because I
was a year older. In another year Katie would be 13, not 12. Her
breasts might be as big as mine then.
With such odd feelings floating in my mind, the carriage rolled
on. Pines and peppermint sticks passed the carriage window. I gazed at
their erectness; the stiffness of the peppermint sticks, so tall and
firm, the sharpness of the needles on the pines. I was jolted in a
gentle, rhythmic way by the rolling of the carriage over the pop rock
road. A team of powerful Clydesdales pulled us along, relentlessly,
taking us in our bikinied nudity to our fate. My bosoms jostled within
my top. I found my nipples standing up through the fabric of my bra.
The air was cool, brisk. Mist could be seen hanging amidst the trees.
I looked at Katie and saw she was sitting on the carriage bench with her
hips forward, her legs open. Only the skimpy covering of her bikini
undies kept the guards who were sitting across from us from peering
directly into her slit. She gazed up at me, her eyes wide and
unknowing, her lips soft and pink, her nose small. Her breasts jiggled
within her top. Her nipples poked sweetly within her bra.
“Licorice Lad is very powerful,” Katie whispered.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Very, very powerful,” Katie said.
“Mmmm,” I nodded.
“He owns all of Candyland,” Katie said.
“Yes.”
“And I’ve always liked licorice. Especially black licorice.”
“Me too,” I murmured.
In my head the tunes of Peppermint Pete still circulated, like
old well-learnt songs one cannot get rid of. He’d seen us off; piping
as we rolled away. Then, when we were gone, he went about his day’s
work, cutting down Peppermint sticks to carve them into woodwind
instruments; piccolos, flutes, whistles, and the recorders that little
children play in nursery school.
“Oh!” I said. I shook my head. My blonde locks tumbled freely
about my face and shoulders, my bosoms, my back. “No!” I said. “All
types of candy are good. And-- and I like bubblegum best.”
“You don’t like licorice?” Katie asked me.
“All types of candy, Katie,” I said. “You should not like one
type of candy over another, except for your favorite, of course. My
favorite is bubblegum.”
“Mine is--” Katie paused. She speculated. “Mine is--” she
began again. “Well, I don’t think it’s black licorice, but...” She
paused. “I like Doritos. Jay Leno eats Doritos.”
“Doritos aren’t candy,” I told her.
“Well, they’re junk food. That’s what my mom says.
‘Doritos... stop eating so many Doritos, Katie. You’ll spoil your
appetite for supper.’ That’s what my mom says. So they’re sorta like
candy,” Katie told me.
We rolled on. The forest around us thinnned somewhat. We
moved across meadowlands. And then, when we stopped to relieve
ourselves, I saw them.
“Mountains!” Katie cried. In the distance stood huge, rounded
peaks. They glistened with white crystals all along their flanks, right
up to the very top of each one. At first I thought they were covered
with snow. Then, seeing how round they were, I suddenly realized they
might be covered with sugar. Some of the mountains were so tall that
they were lost in the clouds.
“Yes, those are the Gumdrop Mountains,” Freddie told us, as
Katie and I squatted, relieving ourselves. He unzipped his fly and peed
into the grass. We were so accustomed to being together now, and being
watched, that we thought little of exchanging conversation together as
we went to the bathroom. We were almost like a family, it seemed,
though a rather odd one, composed of gingerbread men, Katie, myself, our
driver, and a man with pink glasses shaped like valentine hearts.
“Who lives up there?” Katie asked.
“Gumdrop Guy,” Freddie answered. He finished peeing and zipped
himself up. One of the gingerbread men passed Katie and I some leaves
so that we could wipe. “I also live in those mountains,” Freddie said.
“I have a fort up there. It’s a very strong fort, made entirely of
fruitcake. It’s not as ornamental as the Citadel of Sweets, but I
prefer it. Who needs to live in some gaudy palace when a properly built
fort will do? And I’ll bet my fruitcake fortifications could stand up
to an artillery barrage far longer than a Citadel made of poundcake,
shortbread, and sugar cones.”
I stood and tied my bikini panties back on. “An artillery
barrage?” I asked.
“Well, you know, if someone were to set up a catapult, and
begin lobbing marshmellos at the walls of my fort, or at the walls of
the Citadel, for instance,” Freddie offered. “My walls would stand up
to such a pounding a lot longer than the walls of the Citadel would,
I’ll bet. Of course, I’m biased in my opinions,” Freddie smiled.
Katie stood and pulled up her undies.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to poop this time,” Katie announced.
“Well, let’s move on,” Freddie said. “I’ll be glad to be back
home soon.”
We returned to the carriage. The gingermen tied us again. The
horses pulled us along the pop rock road, across the grasslands and into
the sugary mountains.
As we rolled along I began seeing a strange, new breed of bush
amongst the rocks. From the branches of this bush round little objects
grew. They had rounded tops and flat bottoms. They sparkled, and I
realized I was looking at gumdrops.
“Look! Gumdrop bushes!” I told Katie.
“Yes!” she said. “Can we get out and pick some?” she asked
Freddie.
“Not right now, girls,” Freddie answered. “Perhaps later. The
weather is good right now, and I want to go as far as we can. I don’t
want to get caught in a sugar storm, if I can help it.”
“A sugar storm?” I asked him.
“Yes,” Freddie laughed. “This is Candyland. Snow falls up in
these mountains but, also, a great deal of sugar.”
“Out of the sky?” Katie asked.
“Of course!” Freddie said. “How do you think these big,
gumdrop mountains came to be covered with sugar?”
“I dunno,” Katie said.
“It is the dreaming of children in your world that causes it to
snow,” Freddie explained. “You should see the storms we have up in
these mountains at Christmas! All those children, all dreaming about
candy. My, does it snow then! But of course it can snow any time of
year. Any time a child is dreaming of candy, it snows a little
somewhere, up here in these mountains.”
I gazed out the window. I saw flakes begin to fall.
“Look! Somebody’s dreaming right now!” Katie said.
“Yes,” Freddie agreed.
“Does it snow up here when I’m asleep, dreaming of candy?”
Katie asked. Freddie nodded.
“Someplace up here,” Freddie said.
“How about when I’m dreaming of Doritos?” Katie asked.
“Doritos are salty, not sugary,” I told her.
“Well, I want it to snow when I’m dreaming of Doritos too,”
Katie said.
“Tell the Sultan when you see him,” Freddie said. The
gingerman sitting beside him glanced over at him. “I mean, Licorice
Lad, our new Sultan!” Freddie said. “Bring it up with Licorice Lad,
when you see him.”
“I don’t want to see Licorice Lad,” Katie frowned. “Although,”
she added. “I don’t dislike licorice as much as I once did, when I
first heard how Licorice Lad had been bad, and taken over Candyland.
Now I’m starting to think it’s a pretty tasty sort of candy.”
I wanted to disagree, but instead I simply gazed out the
window, and watched as flakes of sugar fell gently out of the sky.
The temperature dropped as our carriage climbed up into the
mountains. I began to see patches of snow intermingled with the sugar
that covered the ground. Yet, I did not feel exceedingly cold, I found,
when the coach stopped to let us relieve ourselves again. Despite being
almost naked, wearing only my little bikini, squatting and peeing in
snow, I felt only chilly enough to make my nipples erect. Katie made a
snowball when she was finished peeing and threw it at me. It hit my
breasts. The snow wet my top.
“Oh!” I cried. I dusted the snow off my bosoms. Some got
inside my bra and I had to pull on the fabric and shake it out. Yet I
was not terribly cold, even then. I made a snowball and threw it at
Katie. It hit her tummy.
“Oooo, don’t!” Katie whined.
“Well, you threw one at me,” I said.
“Let’s make snow angels,” Katie said, brushing snow off her
belly.
We lay down in the snow. It chilled my back and my legs and my
bottom. I waved my arms and legs in the snow. Then I stood up. I
flung my hair back and gazed triumphantly at the design I’d made.
“Look! We’re angels!” I told Katie.
“Yes,” she enthused. “And since I’m littler than you, that
makes me The Littlest Angel,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” I replied.
“Let’s make some more!” Katie said.
“Girls, we’ve got to be moving,” Freddie said.
“Oh, gee. Well, bye bye, angels,” Katie said. She waved to
the designs we’d made. We were loaded back aboard the carriage and our
wrists were tied once more. We were angels no longer. We were captives
again, our hands restrained behind our nude backs, where they couldn’t
wave about. I had a damp bottom from the snow. But even then I was not
cold, only chilly, despite the deeper drifts of snow that we now saw as
we climbed higher and higher into the mountains.
At nightfall we stopped by some hot springs. Katie and I
undressed and bathed. The water steamed around us and made sinuous,
vaporizing trails of steam that rose up into the cold night sky. We
gazed up at the stars. Katie tried counting them, but got lost after a
bit, managing to count no more than about twenty.
“That’s why people invented constellations, silly, so they
wouldn’t have to try to count each individual star,” I told her.
“Well, I don’t know any consolations, except the Big Dipper,”
Katie pouted.
“There it is, right there,” I pointed.
“Yes, but what about the rest of them?” Katie said. “The
little stars are important too.”
“They’re all the same size,” I said.
“Well, the less important ones, then,” Katie said. “The ones
that aren’t in the Big Dipper. What about them?”
“I dunno,” I said.
“So, that’s why I’m trying to count them all,” Katie said. “So
each one of them will matter, not just the ones in the Big Dipper.”
“It would help if you knew your numbers then,” I told her.
“I know how to count, Bambi,” Katie told me. “I’m not a dumb
blonde.”
“I’m the blonde,” I told her. I drew myself onto my back in
the hot steamy water and began floating. My hair floated out away from
me in a fan, like the hair of an angel, suspended in heaven.
“Well, I’m not a dumb brunette, either,” Katie said. She
passed her hands through her brown hair. She turned on her back and
began floating beside me. Our hips bumped.
“Okay, tell me all the numbers, then,” I told her. I gazed at
the hard, cold stars above us. They looked like pinpricks, I thought.
Perhaps they were tiny windows to a Heaven that lay beyond the black
veil of night.
“Well, there’s one,” Katie said.
“Don’t forget zero,” I told her.
“Zero isn’t anything,” Katie said.
“And what about less than zero?” I asked.
“I can’t count with less than zero,” Katie said. “I’m trying
to count stars. How can I count stars with numbers that are less than
zero?”
“Okay,” I said. “What comes after one?”
“This is silly,” Katie said. She stopped floating and put her
feet down into the depths of the pool. She splashed me.
“Hey!” I said.
“Count how many times I splash you!” Katie cried.
“Forget it!” I said. I got out of the pool. A gingerman gave
me a towel and I dried myself. Then I got in my sleeping bag. I was
passed dinner and I lay in my sleeping back eating it, on my belly. My
bikini lay in a little pile by my head. I didn’t feel like putting it
back on. Katie floated some more in the pool.
“One, two, three...” I heard her say, beginning her counting
again, trying to find all the stars in the sky and make each one feel
special by counting it.
In the distance I thought I perceived a sound of something
bouncing.
“How odd,” I thought, pausing in my dinner. It was a dinner of
fruitcake and cherry pudding, the pudding made from snow gathered fresh
from the ground, topped with a garnish of sugar.
The bouncing sound grew louder. The gingermen looked up, but
didn’t seem alarmed. It grew louder still and then, suddenly, out of
the darkness, a big, rotund figure came into view. It looked like a
weird sort of man. He was bald. He wore big, round glasses. He was
big and fat and glistened with sugar, like the mountains we were
travelling through. He wore a frill of peppermint-laced icing around
his neck. Mountaineer boots clad his short feet. He had small, stubby
arms. Each of his wrists had an iced frill about it that matched the
one circling his wide neck.
“Hiya!” the large, blubbery, frosted being called as he bounced
down the mountainside and into our camp. Katie dove down in the pool,
fearing that we were being attacked. I shrank into my sleeping bag. I
remembered my nudity and grabbed my bikini.
Freddie, who’d been doing some paperwork inside the carriage,
opened the door to the coach and stepped out.
“Gumdrop Guy,” he said, acknowledging the fat creature.
“Good evening evening evening!” the large man replied. “What a
pleasant night for eating gumdrops and licorice!”
“Ah, yes. Good to see you, Gumdrop Guy,” Freddie replied.
The large, fat man pointed at Freddie with one of his stubby
fingers. “That’s not a gumdrop you’re holding. That’s a pencil!” he
said.
“Well, yes. I was doing some writing,” Freddie answered.
“What? When you could be eating?” Gumdrop Guy asked. “Come,
come! Gumdrops for everyone! Look! I’ve got a bag of them right
here.” He presented Freddie with a bag. I saw it was stuffed with
gumdrops, all different flavors, red and blue and pink and green. The
light from the carriage’s open door made them sparkle. He opened the
bag up and insisted on pouring a big handful of them into Freddie’s
palms. “Eat!” Gumdrop Guy commanded.
“Gumdrop Guy, I live here,” Freddie protested.
“EAT!” Gumdrop Guy commanded.
To please the fat man, Freddie put a gumdrop into his mouth.
“Just one?” Gumdrop Guy said. “Good heavens! You are
uncivilized, dear sir. You lack a proper appreciation for gumdrops.
You should stuff your entire mouth full of them, they’re so good!”
“I’ll have some!” Katie offered, gazing at the big fat man from
the refuge of her steamy pool.
“Ah, that’s what I like to hear!” Gumdrop Guy said. “Little
miss, how pleased I am to find you in my fair land. At last, someone
with a proper appreciation of gumdrops!”
Gumdrop Guy waddled over to Katie. He bent and poured a big
handful of gumdrops into her wet palms.
“Yum!” Katie said. Just as he’d hoped, she tried stuffing the
entire handful into her mouth at once.
“And how about you?” Gumdrop Guy asked, turning, surveying the
rest of us. He spotted me, and the fact that I was eating, and came
quickly over to where I was. I drew myself deeper into my sleeping
bag. “What? No gumdrops?!” Gumdrop guy asked, gazing intently at my
half-eaten plate of dinner. He opened his bag and dumped gumdrops all
over my plate. “EAT!” he commanded. “You’ll never be as big as me if
you don’t eat lots of gumdrops!”
Gumdrop Guy went round to the others. Each of the gingermen
was forced to accept a big handful of gumdrops. Even our driver, a
quiet, unassuming man, was beset with gumdrops, and commanded to eat as
many as he could.
“There!” Gumdrop Guy said. He put his hands on his hips and
surveyed us all. “Now things are much better. From now on, I expect
you all to eat lots of gumdrops. In fact,” he said, raising a finger.
“I hereby declare it to be illegal to eat anything in my Gumdrop
Mountains except gumdrops!” He paused. He considered a moment, then
added, “And licorice. You may eat a little black licorice also...”
Gumdrop Guy jumped in the air and landed on his bottom. He
bounced up, like a ball. “Well, I’m off!” he shouted. “Tootle-ooo! A
pleasant gumdrop evening to you!”
I watched from my sleeping bag as Gumdrop Guy bounced off into
the night. Katie, her cheeks still bulging with gumdrops, watched from
within her hot pool. The gingermen went back to their duties, tending
the fire, keeping watch. Freddie went back inside the carriage.
Finishing my dinner, I rolled on my back and looked up at the
stars. I tried to picture what Licorice Lad looked like. If he was
handsome enough, I might just choose to like him, even if he had usurped
the Sultan’s throne and taken over Candyland. Licorice, I thought,
wasn’t such a bad candy. Black licorice was the color of night. And
gazing up at the blackness of the night sky above, speckled with stars,
snuggled in the warmth of my sleeping bag, I considered that I rather
enjoyed the night.
“Wilma Writ! Get back here!” Ms. Matilda Brunswald shouted.
She was standing on a rainbow far out over the sea. Up ahead, Wilma
seemed to be moving away from her with increasing velocity. She’d sped
by her a moment before, and the odd thing was, Wilma was standing still.
“Yikes!” Affidavit Al cried. He went flying past Matilda. He
too was standing still, on the blue color of the rainbow. Matilda was
standing on red and Wilma on yellow. Glenda Guilty was standing on
green.
“Oh, my! I’m starting to move,” Glenda, who was walking,
announced.
“Well of course you’re moving! That’s what happens when you
put one foot in front of the other,” Matilda declared.
“No-- I mean move, like on an escalator,” Glenda explained.
And, indeed, she went shooting past Matilda quite suddenly, faster than
she could walk.
“Yikes!” Matilda cried. “I’m moving too! And I’m standing
still!”
“It’s turned into one of those People Mover things, like they
have at the airport!” Al cried. “Look! I’m standing still, and yet I’m
moving!”
Matilda gazed at the rainbow they were standing on. Each color
of the rainbow had suddenly lurched to life, carrying them forward. Al
was rushing forward on blue. Wilma on yellow, Glenda on green.
Matilda’s rainbow beam, red, began shooting her forward at an alarming
rate of speed. The wind rushed past her. It disheveled her hair and
pressed her dress hard against her body. Glenda, straining against the
wind up ahead, lost hold of her briefcase. It flew back past Matilda
and arced down toward the sea, far below.
“AAAAAAA!” Al cried. He clung for dear life to his business
suit coat, lest it be blown off his narrow shoulders.
“My hair!” Wilma cried. She had rich, red curly hair, done up
in a bouffant at the hairstylist’s. The wind made a mess of it.
“Oh, we’re going to die!” Al whined.
Matilda, fearful but not absolutely lost to fear, like Al,
gazed down at the sea. Slowly it passed under them. She felt like a
passenger on an airplane as she gazed from the heights of the sky down
upon it.
“Hang onto your hat, we’re going someplace!” Wilma, the one
farthest ahead, cried back to them.
“None of us have a hat,” Glenda said crossly.
“Then we’re going to DIE!” Al whined.
“Shut up, Al!” Matilda said. But the wind grew stronger in her
ears, as they moved faster and faster. Soon she could hardly hear
herself, when she tried shouting to the others. Her hair streamed
behind her and the wind whipped her dress back so hard she feared having
it ripped off her.
“Somebody should be arrested for this!” Wilma, her hair ruined,
seemed to say. She yelled it quite loudly, but the wind was so strong
Matilda could just make it out, and then only by guessing.
“Yes indeed!” Matilda shouted in reply. But, due to the wind,
she didn’t think anyone heard her.
Tommy Troll set his machine down at the feet of Licorice Lad.
The boy sat on the Sultan’s throne, eating licorice. His underpants
still hung off the top of the throne. He steadied the big candied
turban he wore on his head and gazed at the machine with interest.
“Well?” Licorice Lad asked.
“I’ve made all the necessary adjustments, great Sultan Licorice
Lad, lord of us all,” Tommy said. “Now I need only to turn it on, and
any humans in Candyland will begin to turn into candy.”
“How long will it take?” Licorice Lad asked.
“No more than a week,” the troll assured Licorice Lad.
“A week?” Licorice Lad asked.
“Maybe less,” Tommy said.
“This better work, troll, or I’ll double your sentence,”
Licorice Lad scowled.
“Oh, yes, great Sultan Licorice Lad, lord of us all!” Tommy
cried. He twisted a knob. A pink glow rose from the machine and
engulfed the throne room.
“I can feel it,” Licorice Lad said. He extended his hands.
The troll, too, extended his hands. He put them over the machine, as if
warming his hands over a fire.
“Yes, master, it is wonderful, is it not?” the troll asked. He
beamed up at Licorice Lad. “Candification, that’s what I call it! The
girls will be turned to candy, and then you can keep them forever. You
won’t have to worry about them slipping away, through the Peppermint
Portal.”
“Good, good,” Licorice Lad said. “How near to this thing do
they have to be, for it to work?”
“Not near!” Tommy replied. “The rays from this machine will
emanate throughout Candyland. All the humans who are guests of your
realm will be forced to stay and pay homage to you forever.”
“Yes! And to my licorice too!” Licorice Lad said.
“Oh yes, great Sultan Licorice Lad, lord of us all!” Tommy
said.
“Put this machine up in the highest tower,” Licorice Lad said,
turning to a gingerman who stood by the troll. “I want its rays
propagated throughout my kingdom as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, master,” the gingerman answered. He bent and lifted up
the machine. Its pink rays glowed brightly in his face and upon his
chest.
“Begone, troll!” Licorice Lad said to Tommy, with a wave of his
hand. “You may return to your bridge. Do not disturb my realm again.”
“Yes, great Sultan Licorice Lad, lord of us all,” Tommy said.
He bowed. Then he backed away from Licorice Lad, bowing repeatedly as
he went, until he was in the great hall beyond the throne room. Then he
turned and ran as quick as he could out of the Citadel of Sweets.
Up in the tallest sugar cone tower, the gingermen placed the
machine. They stood and gazed out over Candyland. From the tower you
could see, to the east, the moor, where a pop rock road emerged and ran
across grasslands to the gates of the Citadel. To the west floated a
sea of cream. Its waves, rolling ashore, left a residue of frosting.
Out on the wide creamy sea floated iceberg islands. Interspersed
amongst the big, frigid islands, which kept the sea cool, were ice cream
bars and orange popsicles and striped ice cream sandwiches. Along the
shore of the sea groves of lollipops grew. Their clear, round surfaces
shone in the sun. Above them all now, a pink glow suffused itself into
the clouds, radiating from the Citadel’s tallest tower. It came from
the machine of the troll. Far below, running along the pop rock road,
the troll could be seen, scampering back to his lair.
30
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