Brownie troop four-thirty-two
dressed up for a trip to the zoo,
in pretty blue shirts,
vests with badges, and skirts,
and beanies of chocolatey hue.

They gathered at Bunnytail Park
(where Brownies often played until dark).
A short schoolbus pulled in.
The driver, drinking gin,
made only a grumbling remark.

A Brownie declared We're all here!
so they boarded the bus in good cheer
and sat in their places.
One tied her shoelaces,
her golden curls tickling her ear.

You're showing your panties! one hissed,
a warning the younger dismissed.
Socks matched underpants:
unicorns in a trance
by the Brownie belly they kissed.

The bus filled with laughter and smiles,
as the Brownies endured twenty miles.
Are we there yet? they'd nag
at the drunken old hag.
Between, they'd compare panty styles.

At a dangerous bend in the road
beside where a cold river flowed,
the bus struck the guardrail
and began to fishtail,
Brownies screaming in fear as it slowed.

Brownies fled out the back in a race,
panic showing on every face.
The bus hit the brink
and was gone in a blink.
Of the driver, there wasn't a trace.

A trucker saw an eight-Brownie treat,
and slammed on his brakes with both feet,
helped them into the back
with his load in a stack,
and hurried back into his seat.

He hadn't been seen, he was sure,
so nobody knew where they were.
If the rest went just right,
he'd have Brownies tonight!
Such good fortune would never recur.

The Brownies knew little of treacherous males
(nothing of loving ones, locked up in jails),
so they rode where he said,
never showing a head,
sitting hidden among the gigantic hay bales.

Two sisters there were, the youngest one five,
the oldest one seven, who'd helped her survive,
four classmates, all gigglers,
two six-year-old wigglers,
not one Brownie wondering where he would drive.

With intent he made haste to a farm
where he knew they would all come to harm,
wanting nary a penny,
just the pleasure of many,
and a chance at a Brownie with charm.

The trucker to the owner appealed;
between them, the deal was sealed.
Eight Brownies alighted.
Six farmhands, delighted,
were thrilled what the hay had concealed.

Such beautiful features they had,
that the farm owner said he'd be glad
if they'd stand there and smile
for his camera awhile
(though he wished all the Brownies unclad).

He asked all the Brownies their names,
and none thought to question his aims:
Georgia, Kaitlyn, and Molly,
Hannah, Megan, and Dolly,
while Ellen and Anya played games.

The Brownies were quickly subdued
by a plan so devious and shrewd
it would soon make them all
plead, whimper, and bawl,
and leave them submissively nude.

They invited the Brownies to meet
kittens, ponies, and bunnies so sweet.
They entered the stable;
men yanked on a cable
knocking eight Brownies off of their feet.

One man to each Brownie was all
that it took to get each to a stall.
Though they struggled and fought,
the men kept what they caught
and held them up facing a wall.

Eight Brownie skirts high in a flip
showed eight Brownie bottoms to whip,
until they all wailed
that the men had prevailed:
eight Brownies agreed they would strip.

If even one Brownie refused,
the men threatened they'd all be abused.
Hearing each beg the others
to forget rules from mothers
made their captors extremely amused.

There were eight Brownie bottoms so sore
that their owners sat on a dirt floor,
took off all their clothes,
and spread wide in a pose
so they wouldn't be spanked anymore.

But the horrible meanies weren't through
doing all that they wanted to do.
They made eight Brownies lay
face down in the hay,
keeping hands out wide, and their feet, too.

Iron voices told Brownies the law
that they had to repeat without flaw:
if even one girl twitched,
every one would get switched,
even if it made eight bottoms raw.

The men thoroughly searched in four passes
while removing from Brownies their glasses,
necklaces, rings from hands,
barrettes, bracelets, headbands,
to ensure there were eight naked lasses.

As a final act done to prepare
those eight Brownies trapped in a snare,
men tied ankles to wrists
in eight clever twists
so they'd fall unless walking with care.

Warning the girls not to run,
the men marched them outside one by one,
where they stood in a line
looking awesomely fine,
like a Brownie parade, but more fun.

The men brought out eight steel chairs
and tied up the Brownies in pairs.
The girls soon learned
Brownie uniforms burned
by seeing it happen to theirs.

Brownies begged for their panties and socks.
The men laughed, tying ankles to blocks
while enjoying the view,
then called the BR&T crew
and suggested a set of eight stocks.

In a shop labelled "Plumbing and Heating"
BR&T held an emergency meeting,
approved some new buys,
collected supplies,
and rushed to give Brownies a greeting.

Exposed to the quickening wind,
eight shivering Brownies sat pinned,
butterflies in a web,
hopes beginning to ebb.
Thick winter clouds finally thinned.

Arriving in three separate cars,
BR&T treated the Brownies like stars.
They unloaded a trunk
full of all sorts of junk
like a torch, a table, and jars.

First they set up eight stocks in a row
near the chairs with the Brownies on show,
alternating with poles
making up sixteen goals
where sixteen pretty feet had to go.

Each Brownie was ordered to stand,
put herself in the grooves on demand,
made to spread her feet wide
for support on each side,
and lifted high by her chin and each hand.

The last Brownie refused them instead,
until seven bare bottoms were red,
fourteen eyes in a blur,
screaming madly to her,
Please! Please-please-please do what they said!!

With the jars getting hot from the torch,
but arranged so the wax wouldn't scorch,
table covered in sheets,
heavy straps, and some cleats,
Brownies heard cheerful chat on the porch.

Stark naked and blushing, toes curled,
so ashamed to be shown to the world,
front, behind, or beside,
they had no way to hide
Brownie bodies so sweet your head swirled.

The Brownies were frightfully cold
until their turn to make a BR&T mold
made of scalding hot wax
on their fronts and their backs
and their pussies spread wide to be sold.

In full sight and sound of the rest,
each Brownie lay fully undressed,
held firm by the straps
(squirming earning her slaps),
for a process the first never guessed.

Magnifying their horrified visions,
the Brownies were allowed some decisions:
Titties first, titties last?
Poured in slow, or in fast?
All at once, or in separate divisions?

The men tested the heat with one drop.
Wailing Brownies all pleaded to Stop!
They poured it on thick,
let it cool (wasn't quick!),
and saved the wax cast for their shop.

The Brownies made such a loud fuss,
good thing none of the sweeties could cuss.
The men gave them gags
of their panties for rags,
tied in place with their socks for a plus.

By sunset the Brownies were still.
Rough hands took them into the mill
and left them there weeping,
eventually sleeping,
exposed to the late winter chill.

When the Brownies awoke they all cried
about being so painfully tied,
but at dawn they would find
the BR&T men had in mind
something crueler than they'd ever tried.

To the BR&T Stage the Brownies were led,
and standing, bound naked and spread,
and told the BR&T plan
of how every man
would at midday do what all girls dread.

Just a handful of men near the gate
made the Brownies afraid of their fate,
but as time slowly passed
their numbers grew fast,
and they gathered to watch the girls wait.

Eight cameras recorded the sight
of eight naked Brownies in fright,
hanging helpless in ropes
with the slimmest of hopes
of ever escaping their plight.

The Brownies tried pleading so meek,
as their future looked ever more bleak,
but the crowd loudly cheered
what the girls deeply feared
would occur with the sun at its peak.

Exposed to the brisk winter breeze,
the shivering Brownies would sneeze.
They longed for eight suns
to warm up their buns,
and the sky with the real one to freeze.

The girls changed their minds in regret
when eight yellow robes made them fret.
Each revealed a belt,
raised it high, and then dealt
the worst thing the Brownies felt yet.

The yellow robes took it in turn
to make eight Brownie bottoms all burn
from six brutal belt blows,
giving fantastic shows
to the crowd to ensure they'd return.

The trucker, when given his choice,
chose a Brownie with honey-sweet voice,
since what he had vowed
to his pals in the crowd
was a chorus to make them rejoice.

But of all of the cheering that roared,
one miserable Brownie outscored,
for, pale as a ghost,
frail Hannah drew most,
when the pitch of her pleading just soared.

Eight cameras recorded unblinking
eight little Brownie hearts sinking.
With each face they beheld,
they had their hopes quelled,
clearly seeing what each man was thinking.

As the time before doom ticked away,
the Brownies insisted that they
should be freed of the cords,
not be stared at by hordes
of lusty men wanting their way.

Brownie outrage exceeding all bounds
fell silent to snickering sounds.
It's undeniable that
pretty Brownies to BR&T
are like pretty little foxes to hounds.

When only two hours remained,
the Brownies no longer restrained
their crying and moans
and their tormented groans
that certainly couldn't be feigned.

The Brownies yelled threats of big trouble:
if they weren't untied now, on the double,
they'd tell all in full
to the school principal,
and he'd tear the whole farm down to rubble!!

The crowd laughed at statements so lame:
little girls making threats in his name!
Their principal spoke
while doffing his cloak
and the Brownies turned scarlet from shame.

As it came down to one final hour,
Brownie tears wet their cheeks like a shower.
They hurt themselves badly
while struggling madly,
only proving them in the men's power.

Desperate squirming would wax and then wane,
wrists and ankles in increasing pain,
until Brownies hung limply
as multitudes simply
enjoyed watching the girls entertain.

With seconds to go before noon,
the Brownies all begged for a boon.
Let us go!! they all sobbed
until they were mobbed
by a thousand men rushing too soon.

With no rules for Brownie protection,
no limit on size of erection,
no bans on inventions
or wicked intentions,
tormenters were every direction.

The principal smiled and observed
the Brownies that he had unnerved.
Ever since 'fifty-three
he'd been helping to see
little girls get what they deserved.

Eight Brownies, hair straight or in curls,
colored as straw, pitch, or pearls,
countless rapes have endured
while their shrieking was heard,
and now they're all captive BR&T girls.

Leave Comments to the author
Consider donating to ASSTR
Back to BR&T Magazine descriptions
Back to Georgie Porgie's main index