Message-ID: <6319eli$9712121556@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: 6 Bikini Brigade part 6 of 22 (NND) dec13 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller39@IDT.NET Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <348EFCB4.4B1B@idt.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in BIKINI BRIGADE _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Six Licorice Lad sat in the throne room, brooding. It was his favorite activity. He gazed at the giant doors at the end of the throne room that led into the great hall beyond. It was a hall made of cheesecake, panelled with glazed raspberry sauce. The walls of the hall gave off a rich, red glow. “Those walls should be painted black,” Licorice Lad muttered to himself. He glanced around the throne room. No one was present. “Where are my retainers?” he asked of the walls of the throne room. “My servants?” He saw two peanut people scurry past in the hall. They were the size of small children, but shaped like peanuts. They both wore short pants and small shoes and one of them wore glasses. “Peanut People!” Licorice Lad called to the two peanuts crossing the hall. The two peanuts stopped and turned. They peeped, rather frightened, past the big doors at the end of the great hall that led into the throne room. “Yes, sire?” the peanut with glasses asked. “Get in here and attend to me,” Licorice Lad told the peanuts. “Yes, sire,” both peanuts replied. They hurried into the throne room and bowed to Licorice Lad, but stood some distance back from his throne. “I want you both to stay right here, so I can have servants at my beck and call, ready at any moment to do my bidding,” Licorice Lad told the peanuts. “Yes, sire,” the two peanuts said. They both bowed to Licorice Lad again. A bat wafted down the great hall and settled before Licorice Lad’s feet. “Master, the girls have been found. They are with Lord Fruitcake,” the bat said in its telepathic speech. Only Licorice Lad could understand it. The two peanuts waited, some distance away from Licorice Lad’s throne, for any wishes he might have. “Lord Fruitcake?” Licorice Lad said. “Well, it’s about time that fruitcake got off his ass and did something for me. Where were they apprehended?” “South west of Licorice Loch, Master,” the bat said. “Near where we found their toys.” “Very good,” Licorice Lad said. “Gingermen!” he called. “Gingermen!” “Sire, we have been thinking,” the peanut wearing glasses piped up. “Yes, peanut?” Licorice Lad asked. “If we are to serve you, sire, as your royal attendants,” the peanut began. “Yes?” Licorice Lad asked impatiently. “We need to have royal staffs, sire,” the other peanut said. “Yes, a royal staff for each of us!” the peanut with glasses said. “And royal robes too,” the other peanut said. “You are very important, sire, and if we’re to attend upon you, we must look important too!” “Yes, master?” A gingerman asked. He came tromping into the hall and nearly stepped on the peanuts because he was much bigger than they were and he didn’t see them. And even if he had seen them, he would have expected them to get out of his way. “Gingerman!” Licorice Lad said. “The girls have been found. Go downstairs and prepare a place for them in the dungeon!” “The dungeon, master?” the gingerman asked. “Yes,” Licorice Lad said. “I intend to have fun with these girls!” “In the dungeon, master?” the gingerman said. Licorice Lad gave an evil laugh. “Yes, in the dungeon. And put a bed down there, too!” “Yes, master,” the gingerman answered. He turned and tromped off for the stairs that led down to the dungeon. “Now, peanuts, what is it you were asking me?” Licorice Lad said. “We wish to look important!” the peanut with glasses said. “To serve you, sire!” the other peanut added. “What are your names, peanuts?” Licorice Lad asked. “I’m Percy,” the peanut with glasses said. “And I’m Paul,” the other peanut said. They both trembled a little as they spoke, fearing that they might have been too forward with Licorice Lad. “Very well,” Licorice Lad said. “I take it the finest tailors are in Peanut Province?” “Yes, sire!” both peanuts answered. “Then you will both make haste to go there, and get yourself royal robes to wear, to be my attendants,” Licorice Lad told the two peanuts. “Thank you, sire!” both peanuts said happily. “Do you need an escort?” Licorice Lad asked. “No, we are always nice to Molasses Moe,” Percy Peanut said. Paul peanut gave him a nudge. “We’ll look more important if we have an escort!” Paul whispered to Percy. “Yes, sire! An escort is most needed. Otherwise we might get stuck in Molasses Moor!” Percy told Licorice Lad. “Master, may I depart?” the bat asked Licorice Lad in its telepathic speech. Licorice Lad looked at the bat. It was large and had butterscotch wings that gleamed in the light of the tall lamps that illuminated the throne room. “You should be black, bat!” Licorice Lad scowled. “Not in Candyland, master,” the bat answered. “All bats are made of golden butterscotch in Candyland.” Licorice Lad frowned. “I wish everything were black,” he said. “Everything should be black, my favorite color, the color of licorice!” “Master, we should very much need an escort!” Percy peanut said to Licorice Lad. “Very well, then,” Licorice Lad said, turning to the two peanuts. “Get a gingerman to be your escort. Tell them it is on my orders, so that I may have properly attired attendants to attend to my every need!” “Yes, sire,” the peanuts said. “Oh, and make sure your royal attire is black!” Licorice Lad added. “Black?!” the two peanuts asked. They both looked suddenly unhappy. “Yes, black!” Licorice Lad commanded. “Soon all of Candyland will be one color--black! I shall have everything painted black, including you, bat!” The bat seemed none too pleased with the idea, but dared not contradict Licorice Lad. The gingerman came tromping back up the stairs from the dungeon. “You should be black too,” Licorice Lad told the sugar-coated gingerman. “Master, the dungeon is full,” the gingerman said, apparently not hearing Licorice Lad, or not regarding the remark as one needing his attention. “Full?!” Licorice Lad asked. “There is the Sultan,” the gingerman said. “And in another room there are the Gingerman Autonomists, who want autonomy for gingermen,” the gingerman said. “Fie on them,” Licorice Lad said. “A gingerman’s duty is to serve the Sultan. That’s me!” “Yes, master,” the gingerman said. “So? Is there no room at all?” Licorice Lad asked impatiently. “No, master, because there are also the Peanut Power People,” the gingerman said. “They do not wish to pay tribute to your highness.” “Peanut power,” Licorice Lad scoffed. “It is the duty of Peanut Province to supply the Sultan with all his needs. Including being his attendants!” Licorice Lad added. He pointed at Percy and Paul peanut. The two peanuts both nodded their hasty agreement. “They claim that you are a usurper, master, and so they have no need to pay you tribute,” the gingerman said. “Off with their heads!” Licorice Lad commanded. “Them, and the Gingerman Autonomists too. Then put a bed down there. I’m expecting female company.” He laughed. It was an evil laugh. “And riding gear, as well. Put that in the dungeon too, along with the bed.” “You intend to ride the Clydesdales in the dungeon, master?” the gingerman asked. “No, but I do intend to mount up and do some riding,” Licorice Lad said. He laughed again, and it was a very long, and very evil laugh. “We’re slowing down,” Glenda Guilty announced. She watched as the green rainbow beam she was riding arced down toward a coastline. The ocean was still below, the unknown, unnamed sea they’d travelled over. Now the rainbow beams they were riding moved less rapidly across the ocean. At last, they stopped. Glenda took a step forward. She was still on the green rainbow beam, but it hovered beneath her feet, still as a heavy mist, sparkling but not moving anymore. “So, what’d it do, run out of gas?” Matilda, gliding in next to Glenda, and coming to a stop just ahead of her, asked. Wilma was already walking up ahead, following the last few yards of a yellow rainbow beam, down to the grasslands at the edge of a bluff. “C’mon,” Wilma cried, looking back at them. Affidavit Al came in next to Matilda. “Whew! What a ride!” Al said. “I thought I was going to die!” “We’re still standing in mid-air,” Glenda told him. She gazed down at the sea below. They were to the north of their former position, along a coast far away from the one they’d left. Below them, waves crashed against a headland. “Eeep!” Affidavit Al cried, looking down. “I’m getting off this thing,” he said. He ran forward along the rainbow, following Wilma. “Let’s go,” Matilda said to Glenda. “I don’t like the looks of those rocks, down below.” Together they walked forward along the rainbow until they reached the grass of the bluff. “Do you suppose there’s another candy apple forest, across the grass?” Affidavit Al asked, staring ahead of them. They all stood together on the grass. It was damp, from the rain, but it wasn’t raining anymore. “Hey, it’s gone!” Wilma cried. She was looking behind them and the others turned and looked back out across the sea. There was nothing there now. Where the rainbow had hung, there was only sky and, in the distance, where they’d flown across the ocean, clouds. “This is amazing,” Matilda said. “This whole place should be arrested.” “Once when I was little I snuck into an amusement park, before it opened for the summer,” Al said. “Maybe we’ve stumbled into some new amusement park, one that isn’t open yet. We’re the only visitors.” “Yes!” Wilma said. “We could go on all the rides, for free!” “Well, we just went on one,” Matilda said. “But I’m not here to enjoy recreation. We’ve got to find those two missing girls!” “Yes! They could be with a Man. A strange man!” Glenda said. “We’ve got to attend to government business.” “Let’s get walking,” Matilda said. “There’s no time to waste! I prefer my feet to a rainbow any day!” “That rainbow was kinda scary,” Al said. “They should have a sign, or something, warning people who get scared easily not to ride on it.” “There’s a road!” Wilma said. “Look! Ahead, in the grass.” They walked through the damp field until they came to a road. It crunched under their feet when they stepped on it. They gazed down at it and saw that it was made of small purple rocks. “Strange looking road,” Glenda Guilty said. “We’re in some damn amusement park. What do you expect?” Matilda said dismissively. “Which way do we go on it?” Wilma asked. The road ran along through hilly grasslands with no apparent purpose, save perhaps to follow the coastline of the ocean that lay behind them. “Which way is which way?” Matilda asked. “I don’t have a compass. Do you?” She looked at Glenda Guilty. “Generally one doesn’t need a compass for government business,” Glenda replied. “Just paperwork, and a briefcase. But I lost my briefcase.” “No matter,” Matilda said. Arbitrarily she pointed to the east. “This way. We’ll go this way.” Together the group walked off to the east, not knowing it was east, but knowing that they’d decided, at least, to go in a particular direction, even if they didn’t know what direction that was. Tommy Troll approached the eclair cautiously. It was feeding with its peehole in the grass on the edge of Molasses Moor. “If I could jump on that eclair and make it go where I want, I might fly home,” Tommy muttered to himself, gazing at the large beast. It stood alone. It had gotten separated from its herd or, perhaps, it preferred to be alone. Tommy crept closer. “What a lot of time I could save, if I could get that elcair to fly,” Tommy said. “Not that I’ve ever seen it done. Not with someone sitting on top of it, of course. But then, nobody had ever thought of making a Candification machine before, either. I’m not a troll for nothing.” Tommy crept closer still. There was a dandelion near Tommy’s nose. Tommy paid it no attention. It was only an old, dead, white dandelion, its yellow color all gone. He studied the movements of the eclair, which was munching quite close to him now. In the distance, the moor could be seen. It was deep brown. “I hate having to cross that moor,” Tommy thought to himself. “Molasses Moe always makes me be nice. I hate being nice. A proper troll only thinks of himself. And I sure wish I could get that eclair to think of me, too. Then he might give me a quick ride home. Not that its ever been done, though...” Suddenly, a small puff of breeze ruffled the grass. It blew on the dandelion. The old flower broke apart and parts of it went flying up Tommy’s nose. “Ker-chooo!” Tommy sneezed. The eclair gave a start. It realized then how close Tommy was. Eclairs are shy creatures, and one must be a very, very nice person to get as close to an eclair as Tommy had. The eclair knew instinctively that a troll was unlikely to be a nice person. The eclair moved away from the troll. Tommy leapt up. He knew he was lucky to have gotten as close to the eclair as he had, and he didn’t want to lose his opportunity. “Come here, eclair!” Tommy yelled. Desperately he ran toward the eclair. The eclair leapt up but Tommy, who was close, managed to leap onto its back. Tommy landed in the glazed icing on the eclair’s back. The eclair lifted its large body and began to rise into the sky. Then, bending its head down, it spurted cream onto the grass and made a quick ascent up into the clouds. Tommy held on for dear life. Gazing over the side of the eclair, Tommy found himself looking down upon Molasses Moor. It was dark and chocolaty looking. Fudge popsicles grew there, amidst small, scraggly patches of crabgrass. “Yahoo! I’m flying!” Tommy yelled to the sky. The eclair flew higher and higher, and spurted out more cream. It flexed its powerful back but Tommy managed to remain, clinging hard to it, hoping the icing spread over it didn’t cause him to go tumbling down into the moor. Southward the eclair flew. It was unable to dislodge Tommy. Below them passed fields and meadows. Then they flew across a vale of treetops. Below, in the trees, grew many different types of fruit. Also in the forest was a mining operation, where peanut workers dug up chocolate, gold covered coins to put in the Sultan’s treasury. They worked in and around the trees, trying not to dig any of the trees up as they brought the gold coins to the surface of the earth. Tommy gazed with interest down between the trees. If he fell off the eclair now, it would be a deadly fall, but he might at least land in the middle of a gold mining operation. More trees passed below. Tommy wished the eclair would land but there was very little in the way of grassland for the eclair to put down in. Just forest, and more forest. Tommy gazed at the tops of the trees. They flew across a shimmering lake and then on above more forests. Flying even farther south, the eclair flew across Peanut Province, where Peanut Brittle Polly lived. She presided over the Peanut People, and together they worked to serve the Sultan and, since they were an industrious people, they also made lots and lots of peanut brittle. Gazing down past the flank of the eclair Tommy watched as fields of peanuts passed underneath them. It would be another fine season in Peanut Province. Lots of peanuts would be harvested, despite the fact that Licorice Lad was now in charge. Tommy thought he saw the small cabin, in the middle of Peanut Province, where Peanut Brittle Polly lived. It was tidy, but quite old. It had a roof made of chunky peanut butter. Its sides were creamy, but hard-baked from standing for many years in the sun. There was a ramshackle chimney at the back of the cabin and a disorderly fence around it. But the lawn was neatly clipped, and the mailbox out front had been newly painted, a golden, peanut buttery brown. Its flag was raised to let the peanut mailman know that Polly had mail to be picked up. Nearby, a field had been set aside to build a peanut butter palace for Polly. But she’d declined, preferring to see the field put to good use growing peanuts. And she didn’t want to give encouragement to the Peanut Power People movement, who considered themselves patriots and wished to pay no homage at all to any Sultan, be he Licorice Lad or not. Tommy shivered. He was glad he wasn’t down in the dungeon of the Citadel of Sweets. He’d spent five years there already and too many of them had been years that he’d shared with imprisoned Peanut Power People. He hated having to listen to their rants. Especially since none of it had anything to do with him. A troll thought mostly of himself. What peanuts wanted from this world was of no interest at all to Tommy. The eclair flew higher. Tommy lost sight of Polly’s cabin amidst the sprawl of Peanut Province. There were hundreds of peanut butter homes below him. Interspersed with the homes were fields of peanuts. Each home, it seemed, had its prosperous little field, all the peanut people happily growing peanuts. The coach trundled along in the Gumdrop Mountains. I sat inside, with Katie, our arms bound once more behind us with black licorice. Freddie sat across from us. He gazed out a carriage window, past the gingerman guard who sat beside him, at the falling sugar. Somewhere, a child was dreaming of Candyland, and making it snow sugar up high in the Gumdrop Mountains. “When are we gonna get to your fort?” Katie asked Freddie. “Soon, my child,” Freddie replied. His chin was resting on his hand. He looked bored. His paperwork lay in his lap. The gingermen stared straight ahead, vacantly, disinterested in anything other than fulfilling their duties. At the moment they had no duties, save to wait for more orders, when they should eventually be given. I listened to the bouncing and rattling of the coach. The inside of our coach was a deep, royal purple, but its color didn’t lessen the fact that I was still a prisoner. Anything I wished, I had to ask for. And hope I got permission. I felt bored myself, sitting there, despite the uncertainty of my captivity. I might ask to go to the bathroom, and get the carriage stopped, but we’d just stopped a little while back. Even Katie didn’t have to go to the bathroom again, not yet. And there would be lunch soon, but it wasn’t time for lunch yet. So I sat on the violet bench in the coach, gazing out at the drifts of sugar and snow. I still wore my bikini, as did Katie. We were cool, but not chilly, in the coach. As always, Candyland found a way to keep itself pleasant, even high up in the mountains. “What are we gonna do when we get to your fort?” Katie asked Freddie. He glanced at the gingermen. “Oh, we still have a long way to go, my dear,” Freddie answered. “We must descend out of these mountains, and then go to the east. We’ve gone around a big, wide ocean, you see. The Soda Sea. It’s fizziest up along its northern coast. Down south, where you were swimming, it tends to get rather bland. The influence of Licorice Loch does that. The ocean now is to our east. Below it is the candy apple forest, and along its western end is Peppermint Pete’s forest. Also on the western end is the Gumdrop Mountain range, where we are now. Next we’ll travel east again, following the main pop rock road along the Soda Sea’s northern coast. Eventually we’ll get to Peanut Province. Then, from there, it’s north, to the edges of a forest. It’s an impenetrable forest, I’m afraid. There are beautiful trees there, though. Fruit trees. Plus pine and redwood and spruce and cedar. I used to go hiking there when I was younger,” Freddie said. His eyes took on a dreamy look. “Can we go hiking too?” Katie asked. “No,” Freddie said. “We’ll go to the west, along the edge of the forest. We’ve got to stay on the main road. We can move fastest in this horse drawn carriage.” “Rats,” Katie said. “Oh, I agree,” Freddie said. “Not only is it fun to hike in that forest, but there are gold coins buried there too, under the earth. Chocolate gold coins. There’s a royal mining operation there. They dig carefully, so as not to disrupt the trees. Only the king’s men are allowed to dig up the coins, though. “For us, it’s to the west. We’ll eventually pass through some forests, plum forests. Plus other trees. Bananas and oranges and cherries--” “Yum! Let’s pick some cherries,” Katie said. “Perhaps we will, if we’ve time,” Freddie said. “And then, what you may like even better, is that we must pass through the Lollipop Forest.” “Yummie!” Katie said. “This is going to be a yummy trip, even if we are prisoners!” “From there we must board an ice cream bar and cross part of the Sea of Cream,” Freddie said. “Then it’s on to the Citadel, except for one final part, where we must get across Molasses Moor.” “It sounds like it’s still a long ways,” Katie said. “But I like the part about the cherries, and the lollipops!” “And then we’ll meet Licorice Lad?” I asked. “Yes,” Freddie said. “Then I’m afraid-- I mean, then you’ll have the pleasure of being guests of his royal highness, the great and powerful Licorice Lad!” The gingermen, breaking slightly from their stolid reverie, all nodded. “Oooh, I don’t want to meet him,” Katie said. Her eyes were large. She shrank down in her seat. “Look. More of those gumdrop bushes,” I said. “Can we get out and pick some?” I asked Freddie. “No, I’m afraid not, girls,” Freddie said. “We must make time. We will be at my fort soon. You can both eat all you want at my fort. Especially fruitcake,” he smiled. “And licorice,” he added, glancing at the guards. 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Other stories: type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Under “Quick Search”, type in: roller39@idt.net Press your “return” key. -Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 - JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -END OF story EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |