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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BIKINI BRIGADE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Three
The first thing you noticed about the throne room in the Citadel was
that someone wasnÕt keeping up with the laundry. Dirty socks lay on the
floor. A wet t-shirt lay crumpled at the foot of the throne. And, hanging
off the top of the throne was a dirty pair of boyÕs underpants.
Sitting in the throne, wearing a giant candied turban on his head,
was Licorice Lad. He watched as, in a cluster of angry cries, his bats flew
into the throne room and settled around his feet. They brought him
presents. But he was not pleased.
ÒDo you think I wanted their sand toys?!Ó Licorice Lad cried at the
bats. ÒI wanted *them*!Ó He gazed in contempt at the prizes the bats had
brought him. A Virginia Slims cigarette. An unopened box of Lunchables.
A half-eaten bag of gummi bears. He kicked at a starfish mold lying near
his feet.
ÒHumans are large, compared to a bat,Ó one of the larger bats said to
Licorice Lad. The bat did not speak out loud, but rather through a kind of
telepathy, that only Licorice Lad could perceive. It was not communicated
directly, but rather in a halting, animal manner, accompanied with
telepathic scrawls and screeches.
ÒSo, work together!Ó Licorice Lad replied. ÒAll of you together could
pick them up and bring them to me!Ó
ÒWe did not see them,Ó the bat replied. ÒAll we found were these.
Their artifacts. They were no longer there. And it is not in the nature of
bats to work together, in any event,Ó the bat replied. ÒWe swarm, yes, but
we do not work together.Ó
ÒIf you insist on hanging apart you may find yourselves hanging
together, one day,Ó Licorice Lad replied. He sprang up from the throne. In
doing so, he stepped on the starfish mold. It cracked under the weight of
his foot. He paid it no attention.
The bat looked bemused.
ÒWe always hang together,Ó it answered.
ÒBegone!Ó Licorice Lad shouted. He lifted both his arms, waving
them in contempt at the creatures. ÒFly! Fly! It is night now, is it not?
No more excuses! Find the girls and bring them to me.Ó The bats sprang
up, as a group, as a frightened school of fish, appearing as if they were
acting in unison, but each looking independently to its own safety. They
whirled about in the throne room and then departed down the long hall
beyond. They rose pell mell from the CitadelÕs windows and fluttered high
into a moonless night.
Licorice Lad stomped from the throne room. He was slender of build.
He was just beginning to grow hair on his face and it made him look as if
he had chosen to sport a goatee. He had long black hair that might have
looked cool if it was combed, but it wasnÕt. He wore a kingÕs robes. But
the attire had been cut for a man of a much larger width. It draped off
Licorice LadÕs shoulders very baggily, and trailed behind him on the floor.
The boy descended a flight of stone stairs. They led down to a
dungeon under the castle. There, in the dim light of guttering lamps, lay
the Sultan of Sweets. He had been fatter, but he was losing weight now.
He lay chained to a wall. A glass of water and some crumbs of bread sat
on the floor near him. As Licorice Lad entered the dungeon, there was a
scampering sound, as of rats fleeing.
ÒGive me the Existential Power,Ó Licorice Lad said to the Sultan.
ÒYou again,Ó the Sultan said. He opened his eyes. He stared at the
boy.
ÒWhy do you withhold it?Ó Licorice Lad asked.
ÒWhy is the Pope Catholic?Ó the Sultan answered.
ÒDo not give me smart-ass, irrelevant answers that pertain to
another world!Ó Licorice Lad shouted. ÒI rule here now. Your day is done.
Get used to your chains. And the fine loaf of bread I gave you for supper--
Ó
ÒBreakfast, you mean. I got no lunch or supper,Ó the Sultan replied.
ÒLunch, supper, dinner, those crumbs will be the last meal you ever
get from me, if you donÕt give me the Existential Power!Ó Licorice Lad
cried.
ÒCandyland would cease to function,Ó the Sultan said. ÒEven your
Licorice Loch would turn to sticky goo. Can you imagine children, with
wet feet, walking across your licorice sand beach? Why, theyÕd get all
sticky. No, son. I must keep the Existential Power. You could not control
it. All of Candyland would quickly be reduced to sticky goo.Ó
ÒThat is my risk, not yours,Ó Licorice Lad replied. ÒI am Sultan
now.Ó
ÒYou are an interloper,Ó the Sultan said. He wheezed as he spoke to
the boy, as if the few words heÕd already been forced to speak had
exhausted his ability to talk. ÒYou have no power to build. Only to
destroy. And to maintain... to maintain...Ó the Sultan wheezed again. ÒThat
is utterly beyond your power. To keep the black sand in Licorice Loch from
sticking to oneÕs feet. Could you do that? Could you really? And the
gentle cleansing breezes, that tidy up Candyland on a daily basis. Would
you have the patience to guide them throughout the kingdom every
morning? Would you?Ó The Sultan gave the boy a look of scorn. ÒYou donÕt
even wake up in the morning, I hear. You sleep until noon!Ó
ÒI am the Sultan!Ó Licorice Lad shouted. He shouted it at the
dungeonÕs rafters, as the Sultan himself was not disposed to agree. The
gigantic candied turban Licorice Lad wore on his head started to slip. He
grabbed at it, to keep it from falling to the floor. His shout echoed and
re-echoed in the dungeon and faded away. ÒThe Sultan,Ó Licorice Lad said.
His voice was hoarse from his shout.
ÒThen kill me,Ó the Sultan told Licorice Lad.
Licorice Lad scowled at the Sultan.
There was a tromping in the distance, heavy-footed. The sound of
gingermen on duty.
ÒYou cannot, can you?Ó the Sultan said. He sighed. ÒNo, you cannot.
For you know that if you killed me, which it is now in your power to do,
since I am dethroned... If you killed me, there would be no gentle,
cleansing breezes wafting through the kingdom, keeping it tidy. Candyland
would run and ooze and melt into goo. And the goo would disapper into the
real world beyond, the land where the children come from, and it would be
no more.Ó
Licorice Lad balled his fists. He turned on his heel. Gingermen came
stomping into the dungeon.
ÒMaster, your gingermen stand waiting,Ó the lead gingerman, a giant
cookie-like figure, announced. His sugar coating gleamed in the light of
the dungeonÕs lamps.
ÒAnother loaf of bread for the Sultan,Ó Licorice Lad said. ÒThe ex-
Sultan, I mean. And more water.Ó
ÒBy your command, master,Ó the gingerman answered.
ÒAnd then I want you back out there!Ó Licorice Lad shouted. ÒYes! No
sleep until you find those girls!Ó
The gingerman blanched.
ÒBut master, at night the bats--Ó
ÒFuck the bats!Ó Licorice Lad shouted. ÒThey are too small to bring
in the girls. You must fetch them. They merely fly around. They bring me
toys! Toys!! I want the girls themselves. Can I sire offspring with
toys?!Ó
ÒNo, master,Ó the gingerman answered.
ÒSearch through the night. Through the day, the night. No sleep until
you find them!Ó Licorice Lad shouted.
ÒYes, master,Ó the gingerman answered. He saluted. The other
gingermen copied him. Then they turned their heavy gingerbread bodies
around and went marching back up the steps that led down to the dungeon.
ÒOh, boy...Ó the Sultan said, quietly.
Licorice Lad whirled about.
ÒDonÕt call me--Ó Licorice Lad began.
ÒDo not think I can subsist forever on bread and water,Ó the Sultan
said. ÒOr that I can cleanse Candyland each morning forever, or keep your
Loch from becoming a sticky mess. Someday I will die, with your
assistance or without it. Another will have to rule in my stead.Ó
ÒI already rule in your stead!Ó Licorice Lad said. ÒYou must learn to
respect that, old man.Ó
ÒI only respect your power to attack,Ó the Sultan said. ÒIt is my
eldest daughter, Lolita, who must succeed me. She is learning how to use
the Existential Power. She has the patience, the caution, the finesse.
Things you utterly lack.Ó
ÒFie! Your daughter?!Ó Licorice Lad cried. ÒAm I to be ruled by a
girl? NEVER! A curse on her damned lollipops. It is licorice that all the
humans should eat! Licorice! Nothing but licorice! What candy is better
than dark, brooding licorice?Ó
ÒAll candy has its place,Ó the Sultan said.
ÒThatÕs why you eat bread and drink water, and I wear this!Ó Licorice
Lad said, pointing to the turban on his head. He steadied it with his hand.
ÒEnjoy your feast, fat one. You should thank me for giving you the
opportunity to diet.Ó
I awoke. It was morning. We lay on sweet-smelling grass in a shady
glen. Above us hung candy apples. The trees glinted with gold as the rays
of the rising sun lit up the landscape. A small scented pool bubbled at our
feet.
Katie woke up and rubbed her eyes.
ÒIÕm hungry,Ó she said.
ÒWeÕre still in Candyland,Ó I told her.
ÒYum,Ó Katie said.
ÒIÕm going to wash my bikini and take a bath in the pool,Ó I told her.
ÒIt smells so sweet. Look. If I pick berries, I think they can serve as a
kind of soap, even though theyÕre delicious to eat as well.Ó
ÒYes!Ó Katie said. ÒLetÕs have a warm bath and eat the soap,Ó she
giggled. We untied our bikinis. Nude, carrying them, we stepped into the
gurgling pond. It was warm. We settled into its soothing waters and
gazed at each other.
ÒThis place is pretty fun,Ó I said to her.
ÒItÕs paradise!Ó Katie said.
ÒExcept for the bats,Ó I told her. Her face fell.
ÒI wish they hadnÕt stolen my sand toys,Ó she said.
ÒThat darned Licorice Lad. HeÕs ruined our stay in Candyland,Ó I told
her.
ÒOh, well. WeÕre safe here,Ó Katie said. She offered no reason,
though. But we were still on the edge of BoswellÕs forest. Perhaps that
would be enough. Then I thought I heard the fluttering of a bat.
ÒGet down!Ó I told Katie. She looked at me.
ÒWhy?Ó she asked.
ÒI think I hear those bats,Ó I whispered.
ÒYEEEEEK!Ó Katie screamed.
ÒKatie!Ó I scolded her. ÒThis isnÕt the community pool. ItÕs not a
game. Candyland is a real place, and those bats are real. They stole your
sand toys, didnÕt they?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Katie admitted.
ÒSo donÕt scream like a little girl,Ó I told her. ÒDid I say, ÔI think I
hear the boogeyman?Õ Did I say that? Hmmm?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Katie admitted.
Then I heard the sound again. My eyes widened with fear and I
ducked under the water. Katie, fortunately, copied me. Our eyes bulged at
each other under the waterÕs surface.
When I could hold my breath no longer, I poked my head above the
water. And there it was! Right above me! A big, golden butterscotch bat,
fluttering round my head.
It was my turn to scream, seeing it. I screamed louder than Katie
had. I plunged under the water again.
Katie, unable to hold her breath any more, surfaced, and immediately
screamed. She submerged. We clutched at each other.
At last we could hold our breaths no more. Gaspingly we broke
through the surface of the pool. The bat was gone. I breathed a sigh of
relief.
ÒMaybe it was a good bat,Ó Katie offered, when sheÕd caught her
breath.
ÒLetÕs hope so,Ó I answered.
Getting out of the pool, my first instinct was to gather up our
things. Then I realized that we had no things. All we possessed were our
newly washed bikinis. We tied ourselves back into them. Thankfully, the
temperature in Candyland seemed to be constant. It was always
pleasantly warm. I did not know why. WeÕd come from a land, the land
that held our real lives, where there were seasons. But here, so far, the
pleasant warm weather had held. If a cold front moved in, weÕd be in
trouble, clad in only our tight-fitting swimsuits. I adjusted mine. It
wedged in my ass crack the minute I took a step. My bottom had a
propensity for hanging out the back of it; both below it, the undersides of
my cheeks making a white-skinned display, and above it, the upper part of
my ass crack showing. I was glad no boys were around.
ÒWell, letÕs go,Ó I said to Katie.
ÒWeÕre off to see the wizard,Ó she said to me, wide-eyed. She
seemed to be searching for confirmation.
ÒThe Sultan,Ó I corrected.
ÒOoops,Ó Katie said, in a small voice. ÒThe guy in charge,Ó she said.
ÒThe guy in charge is, unfortunately, Licorice Lad,Ó I told her.
ÒHow do we get him not to be in charge anymore, so we can go
home?Ó Katie asked me.
ÒI have no idea,Ó I confessed. ÒNo idea at all.Ó
The large butterscotch bat spiraled down out of the clouds. The
morning sun glistened on its wings. Below, marching in a column on the
road, was a file of gingerbread men. The bat fluttered down to the road
and landed in the pop rocks. The lead gingerman nearly stepped on it. The
bat jumped back. The gingerman saw it and stopped marching. The file
stopped behind him.
ÒI have found the girls,Ó the bat said in its telepathic screech. The
gingerman did not hear. It could not communicate telepathically. It
stared at the bat, then waved its arm.
ÒGet out of the way!Ó the gingerman commanded. ÒWe are on orders
from the Sultan. We are not on ordinary patrol.Ó
ÒI have found the girls,Ó the bat screeched again.
ÒMove! Or I shall stomp you, butterscotch bird! Do not inhibit the
SultanÕs business.Ó
The bat leapt up. It fluttered around the gingermanÕs head. The
gingerman tried to swat it with its big, heavy arms.
A coach came rolling up the road. It was pulled by a team of
Clydesdale horses. The coach moved fast, spewing out purple pop rock
dust behind it. The file of gingermen were forced to move off the road,
out of its way. They moved into the meadow bordering the road. There
were no ditches lining the road here.
The carriage stopped beside the lead gingerman. The bat fluttered up
and settled on the carriageÕs roof. A man stepped down from the carriage.
He was dressed like an artist. He wore a Parisian beret. The glasses he
wore were in the shape of big, pink hearts. He sported a goatee. He was
tall, and wore an immaculate vest, with long, parachute pant trousers.
There was a chefÕs smock covering his front, down to his knees. It was
neatly tied behind his neck and his back.
The gingerman saluted him.
ÒYes, yes,Ó the man replied. He gave a half-hearted salute.
ÒFruitcake Freddie, you come in the SultanÕs carriage,Ó the lead
gingerman said. ÒIf you are not on business of the Sultan we must
confiscate that carriage. It is illegal for one--Ó
ÒI am on business of the Sultan,Ó Freddie answered. ÒShakespeare
did not call his policeman ÔDullÕ for nothing, I see. It is an apt description,
even for a policeman made of gingerbread.Ó
The gingerman said nothing. The other gingermen, shunted aside by
the carriage, moved back into the road. They made a perfect file of their
bodies once more.
ÒWhat?Ó Freddie asked. He spoke to the bat on the carriageÕs roof.
ÒSpeak up, bat. I do not know telepathy. Not yet, anyway. But I can get
the sense of it, just a bit. What? Do not screech so much. You bats spend
too much time hanging upside down, do you know that? Hanging upside
down in a cave made of cocoa, of all things! You should prefer fruitcake. I
could bore a lovely hole for you in the walls of my fruitcake fort.Ó
The bat spoke, telepathically. Freddie stroked his mustache. He
appeared to listen. Finally, he nodded. He turned to the lead gingerman.
ÒYou will follow me,Ó Freddie said. ÒI know where the girls are.Ó
We passed through the bushes. We picked berries as we walked. We
popped them in our mouth. Some were tangy, others sweet. All were
Òberry wonderful,Ó as Katie said, her mouth quickly filling with them,
faster than she could chew and swallow them. It was sunny and warm. I
started, hearing a bird. Then I realized it was just that, a bird. Not a bat.
We passed under candy-appled trees, listening to the birdsÕ sweet singing.
I learned to rely on their song as an indication that no bats were present.
All was normal, pleasant, another happy day in a candy apple forest in
Candyland.
Beyond the forest lay a meadow. And beyond that, the cliffs. We
stood once more above the black sand beach. We gazed down at the
licorice sand, but we didnÕt descend the path to go swimming. We knew
better now. I gazed uneasily at the sky. I didnÕt see any bats. But the
anvil of the thundercloud was still on the horizon. In fact, it had moved
closer.
We travelled along the cliffs. I kept a constant watch on the sky.
The meadow was not so wide that we couldnÕt run back to the forest, if we
needed to. I felt compelled to hold KatieÕs hand. She did not complain that
I did.
A small stream appeared. We approached. It trickled out from the
forest, a small, unpretentious stream, running through the meadow to the
edge of the cliff. It dropped off. We stood at the edge of the cliff for a
time and watched where it made a spectacular waterfall, a thin straight
line down to the rocks below. It ran down a white sand beach to the sea.
ÒWeÕve been walking for quite some time,Ó I commented. ÒLicorice
Loch is no longer below us. ThatÕs a normal beach.Ó
ÒYes,Ó Katie said. She was down on all fours, and cupped her hand.
She drank from the stream.
ÒHow does it taste?Ó I asked her.
ÒMmmm! ItÕs made of fruit punch!Ó Katie declared.
I dropped to my knees in the soft grass. I cupped my hands. I drank
from the stream. It was cool and soothing.
ÒYes,Ó I agreed. ÒFruit punch. Imagine that!Ó
ÒLetÕs go swimming!Ó Katie said. She got up and peered over the
edge of the cliff.
ÒDonÕt fall,Ó I cautioned.
ÒDonÕt worry,Ó Katie said.
ÒWe must find a path,Ó I told her.
ÒLetÕs go along the top of the cliff some more,Ó she suggested. ÒIÕll
bet weÕll find one, if we look. ItÕs such a pretty beach!Ó
Walking along, holding hands again, we suddenly saw creatures in the
distance. They seemed to be feeding in the grass of the meadow.
ÒLook!Ó Katie cried. She tightened her grip on my hand. She pointed.
I looked with wondering eyes upon the creatures. They seemed to be living
eclairs.
ÒDohnuts... long dohnuts,Ó Katie whispered. ÒBut in the shape of
dildoes.Ó
ÒThey are eclair... erections,Ó I replied. We drew closer to the
creatures. We padded softly in the grass, hoping not to frighten them
away. They reminded me very much of wild horses. Finally one raised its
head and sniffed the wind with the pee hole it appeared to use for both a
mouth and a nose.
ÒHi, horsey,Ó Katie said. The other eclairs drew back, but the one
sniffing the wind, which appeared to be the largest, held its ground.
Slowly we walked up to it.
Katie raised a hand and patted the big beast on its flank.
ÒHi, horsey,Ó Katie said again.
ÒIÕm not a horse. IÕm an eclair,Ó the creature answered. It spoke in
a neighing type of voice through its pee hole.
ÒI like your chocolaty top,Ó Katie said.
ÒI have cream inside,Ó the eclair answered.
ÒYouÕre very pretty, and very strong looking too,Ó Katie
complimented it. I gripped her free hand, letting her pet it, but worried,
lest it be found to be in the employ of Licorice Lad, like the bats.
The eclair emitted a whinny. It bent down its head and, with its pee
hole, it began to feed in the grass again. The other eclairs relaxed. They
began eating as well.
ÒWhy do you eat grass?Ó Katie asked the eclair.
ÒTo build up my cream,Ó the eclair replied.
ÒYum,Ó Katie said. Then, wiggling her toes in the grass and unable to
think of anything else to say, she added, ÒWeÕre going swimming.Ó
ÒIt is a nice beach here, down under the cliffs,Ó the eclair agreed.
ÒCome on,Ó I said. I tugged at KatieÕs hand. I scanned the sky. I
didnÕt see any bats but, if they did come, they might enlist the eclairs to
help them. We could easily be surrounded and captured by such large
beasts.
ÒBye, bye, Mr. eclair,Ó Katie waved to the large cock. It neighed in
reply.
Following the edge of the cliff, we soon found a path down. We took
it. At the bottom, we discovered that the white sand under our feet was
powdered sugar.
ÒYummiest sand IÕve tasted all day!Ó Katie told me, stuffing a
handful of it into her mouth.
ÒWell, weÕre here at last,Ó I said. ÒLetÕs swim!Ó
ÒOkay!Ó Katie said.
Feeling bolder than she had the day before, Katie offered to race me
down to the water. We ran. Our hair flew behind us, catching the noonday
sun. Mine gold, hers brunette. We splashed into the water.
ÒI won!Ó I cried.
ÒI won!Ó Katie yelled at the same time. Then she broke out laughing.
My breasts had bounced right out of my top! I adjusted my bra as she kept
giggling.
ÒYour swimsuit is too small for me,Ó I told her.
ÒI can see that,Ó Katie answered.
We couldnÕt decide who had actually won our race. We both dashed
further out. My breasts broke free of my top again and I decided, for the
moment, to ignore them. I let them bounce nakedly in the sun. I enjoyed
the feeling of being free of any restraints. Only my panties, wedged in my
asscrack, kept me from being entirely immodest. Together Katie and I
dove into the waves. The water felt pleasantly cool.
Later, our hair wet, paddling aimlessly about in the sea like dogs,
Katie yelled to me.
ÒLook up!Ó Katie cried. When I did, my stomach tightening with fear,
I saw an amazing sight.
ÒThe cocks!Ó Katie cried. We gazed in wonder as the whole group of
eclairs rose into the sun. ÒThey can fly!Ó Katie shouted to me.
ÒYes!Ó I breathed. We watched as they rose with a kind of galloping
gait. They seemed proud, and they flexed themselves as they rose,
spurting cream out their pee holes. We opened our mouths and some of the
cream spattered down around us.
ÒMmmmm! ItÕs good!Ó Katie told me, catching some on her tongue.
ÒItÕs how they fly, by spurting out cream,Ó I said.
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó Katie asked me, suddenly.
ÒI donÕt know,Ó I said. I found myself gazing at the beach. Along it,
from the south west, a direction we had yet to travel in, following the
edge of the sea, was a large carriage. It moved fast. Behind it the beach
rose in sugary puffs, the sugar cast up by its rapidly moving wheels. A
beautiful team of Clydesdale horses was pulling it.
I glanced in the sky for bats. I saw none. I tried to decide whether
to duck down in the ocean or wave to the carriage. It looked beautiful. It
was decorated with all types of candy, especially sugar plums. I found
myself adjusting my bra. The carriage stopped. Katie huddled next to me.
ÒItÕs a yummy carriage,Ó Katie confided to me.
We watched as a man stepped down from the carriage to the beach.
He wore an artistsÕ smock, a Parisian cap. He had a goatee. He waved to
us.
ÒHello, girls! Come ashore!Ó he cried. ÒGood news! The Sultan is
once more in charge of our blessed kingdom!Ó
ÒYippee!Ó Katie cried. She jumped up beside me, splashing me.
ÒCome on, Bambi! The Sultan is free!Ó she told me. She tugged eagerly at
my hand.
We waded ashore. The tall man with the goatee took off his cap. He
bowed to us.
ÒGood day, fair maidens,Ó he said. ÒI am so pleased to make your
acquaintance. Allow me to give you a royal welcome to our fair kingdom.
The Sultan has sent for you in his special carriage, so that you might be
transported hither, to his castle, for a banquet of nothing but sweets!Ó
ÒYahoo!Ó Katie cried. She jumped up and down in the sand. I adjusted
my bra. It was still ill-fitting, letting the undersides of my boobs show,
while at the same time failing to contain the rounded upper halves of my
breasts.
The tall, slender man walked to the door on the side of the carriage.
ÒCome,Ó he said, with a flourish, waving his cap. ÒMount up. I shall
personally escort you to our royal highness.Ó
ÒOkay!Ó Katie said. She skipped over to the opened door. I followed.
I blushed as I approached the man. He was so perfect in his demeanor, as
if we werenÕt girls in wet swimsuits, but elegantly dressed young women.
Katie scrambled up the carriageÕs steps.
A scream shattered the air. It was Katie, I realized, as rough hands
grabbed me from behind. I was lifted. I struggled. My legs kicked.
ÒYes, honey, you are mine now,Ó the man, so gentle in his demeanor
moments before, hissed in my ear. He shoved me into the carriage, even as
Katie herself was trying to scramble back out of it.
Inside the carriage I found four large gingerbread men. They looked
at us blankly, but their grip, when they took hold of us, was as strong as
steel. The door of the carriage closed. The man with the goatee sat down
with us, in a place reserved for himself between two of the gingerbread
men. Katie and I were placed on a bench opposite him.
ÒYes, my pretties. Now you will see the Sultan, donÕt worry,Ó the
man with the goatee said to us. He laughed. ÒYou will even see his cock.Ó
Katie screamed again, and one of the gingermen had to clap a hand
over her mouth to stop her screaming. He held her jaw tightly so that she
couldnÕt bite him.
30
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