This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: fall 1995

"Beautiful! Those dresses will be perfect!" the man smiled. "And you two are even more beautiful than expected!"

"Thank you," the oldest answered politely, pleased by the compliments.

Holding a door open for the girls, he urged, "Come along now, get in the car, we're running late."

The oldest climbed in and slid over on the seat to make room for her sister, who followed her in.

The man closed the door, pulled out his wallet, and turned to their mother. "Here you go, twenty for each, as promised. Easy money for something so simple, right?"

Their mother smiled. "See you in an hour, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she waved to the girls and returned to her own car. They drove off in opposite directions.

Ten minutes later, the man parked in the open garage of an unremarkable house on the edge of town. He opened the door for the two girls and ushered them inside, through the house, and out to the back yard.

"Just gorgeous," he said as he knelt to see the girls better. "Let me check everything. Hair, fabulous. Smiles, wonderful. Dresses, perfect, as I said. Shiny shoes, pretty lacy socks, everything just right. Did you pick out your own dresses?"

The girls nodded. One girl wore a sleeveless pastel yellow formal dress with a wide belt, and carried a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. The other wore a sleeveless pastel pink dress, and carried a smaller basket of cloth rose petals. Both had a spray of lace in their hair, decorated with white ribbons.

"Everything underneath match too?"

One girl nodded uncertainly, while the other merely looked uncertain.

"I remember one of you is Gianna and the other is Jordan, but I didn't see which was which, or get your full names. Which one are you?" the man asked the girl in pink.

"I'm Jordan," she replied.

"Jordan. Then you must be Gianna? Can you tell me your full name, honey?"

"Yes, I'm Gianna," the one in yellow confirmed. "Gianna Autumn Thompson. She's-"

"I'll tell him!" Jordan interrupted indignantly. My name is Jordan Aurora Thompson," she declared proudly.

"Those are lovely names, as lovely as you girls are. How old are you both?" the man asked.

"I'm seven, and Jordan is five," Gianna stated.

"I'm five years old," Jordan huffed, "and I can talk, Gianna!"

"Perfect," he nodded. Either he was easily pleased by beautiful girls, or the girls were very very pleasing. No reason to doubt either. "You'll probably be asked to repeat all of that later. Now, let's check jewelry," he mused, looking for necklaces and bracelets. "That one is wonderful," he said, pointing to Jordan's bejeweled bracelet, "but I have a better one for this wrist, if you don't mind taking this one off." To Gianna, he said, "I have two for you, and a necklace as well, sweetie."

Both girls smiled even brighter. Both loved pretty jewelry.

"Wait here," he instructed.

The girls sat on a couple of ornate patio chairs and waited patiently.

A few minutes later, the man returned with a small bag. Jordan removed her plain bracelet, then looked around, wondering what to do with it. "Here, I'll take that," the man offered, putting it in the bag. He gestured to Jordan to hold her arm out, took her basket of rose petals and set it on the grass, then he wrapped a sturdy bracelet of stainless steel chain snugly around her wrist and snapped the latch closed.

"Now yours," he turned to Gianna, taking her basket of flowers from her and placing two more bracelets on her wrists, identical to the first. He held up a lovely delicate silver necklace. "Like it?" he asked.

"Yes!" she grinned.

He clasped it around her equally lovely neck.

"Actually, maybe we should switch the other one anyway, so they all match," he suggested to Jordan, bringing out a fourth bracelet from the bag. He removed the one she had, putting it in the bag, and attached the one he had. "Now turn around," he directed Gianna, taking two clear plastic objects from the bag.

She turned and stood still for him as he pulled her arms behind her back and held her wrists together. She felt him tugging something briefly.

"Your turn," he indicated to Jordan, turning her to face her sister and pulling her arms behind her as well.

"Hmm?" Gianna murmured. "What's this for?" Her wrists seemed to be held together, and she couldn't tell how, nor why.

The man ignored her question as he quickly finished with Jordan. He raised his hand and waved.

"How are we supposed to throw flowers at the wedding, like this?" Gianna asked, puzzled. "I can't move my arms."

"Me neither," her sister agreed, squirming slightly, thus technically disproving it.

"What? What wedding?" the man teased.

"We're going to be flower girls at a wedding, aren't we?" Jordan asked. "That's what Gianna said."

"Where did you get that idea?" the man chided Gianna.

"That's what Mommy said. That's why we're dressed up all pretty."

"Well, she sure got the wrong idea, then," he grinned. "Of course, I didn't exactly give her the right idea. I said that one of my friends was getting married, but I never said when, and I sure never said you two were going to a wedding. Fact is, you're going to a bachelor's party. Actual fact is, you're already there. And I never said you were going to be flower girls. What I said to her was, you two needed to be your absolute prettiest, because my friend looked through all the pictures we had and said you two would be great as deflower girls. Oh, you might be interested to know, Gianna and Jordan, PedoScore rated both of you as tens, but seeing you in person, I think that's an understatement. No wonder he picked you as his favorites from the whole catalog. But he didn't know I was going to get you for him. Neither did I. I didn't know I could get you so cheap! And here he is now. Smile pretty for him!"

Although they were still confused by what he had said, both girls did their best to smile their prettiest. Very successfully, it may be said.

Emerging from the house, a man in a suit approached the three, looking very surprised, but happier and happier as he got closer. "Wow! Just wow!!" he exclaimed. "Your party decorations get better every year! This is just what I wanted, and the rest of the guys are going to love it, too! When can we unwrap them?"

"Let's wait for a few more guests to arrive first. And they're not just party decorations," the first man objected, "though we are going to put them under the gazebo pretty soon. They're also party favors. If you like them, you can keep them for as long as you want!"

"What do you mean, if?" the suited man laughed.

"What do you mean, keep us?" Gianna and Jordan gasped in unison.

He took their arms and lifted them to their feet. "He means," he whispered fiercely, his breath hot on Gianna's ear as he held her head close, "that we're gonna rape you like the little fucktoy you are, while she watches you get it from everyone, then she's gonna switch places with you so you can watch her get raped like a little fucktoy. That's just for starters, 'cause you little fucktoys are never going home again. Now tell her what I just said."

"I-" Gianna choked, her face scrunched up in fear. "I don't even know what you said. Ex- except we're not going home."

"You'll learn," he whispered again, gripping tighter as Gianna began to struggle. "This time tomorrow, you two will know the meaning of each and every word, especially 'fucktoy' you little fucktoy!"

Gianna squirmed uselessly as the man pulled her toward an unusual wooden gazebo. She wondered why it had so many hooks and cords and pulleys all over it. She was afraid that she would learn, and by this time tomorrow, she and Jordan would know what each one was for.