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Subject: {ASSM} "A WEDDING STORY: The Flower Girl" Ch. 1 (Mg, inc, cons, pedo)
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Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2004 07:10:04 -0500
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WARNING: The following fictitious folio contains scenes of pedophilia and
wanton incestuous nature.  If this offends you in any way, please STOP
reading now and move on to another post.  By continuing on from this point
it is assumed that you are of legal age and choose to read the story for
your own benefit, entertainment and/or pleasure.  Crying FOUL after having
read the story and flaming me for the sexual abuse of minors will just show
you to be ignorant of this WARNING.

   DISCLAIMER: The ensuing tale has no basis in real life and is not
indicative of actual persons, places or events.  It is for entertainment
value only.  Please read with all the proper precautions and use protective
equipment if required in your area.  Most of all, have safe autosex.

   NOTE: There is no sex in Chapter One.  Please let me know if you wish to
read more and if I should continue with the story.  Thank you.



   A WEDDING STORY: The Flower Girl

   by ltlgrl69

   (Mg, inc, cons, uncle/niece, mast, oral)

   Chapter One:

   Le Grand Jour (French) The Big Day

   No matter how well-planned a wedding is it is an unwritten law that as
the days approaching the ultimate date grow shorter the greater the amount
of confusion.  I think it's called Wedding Bells' Law of Nuptials or
something to that effect.  My sister's wedding (actually her second) was no
exception.

   After five years of being a single mom to her baby daughter after having
found her husband (whom I had never liked in the first place but would
never had said anything about him to my sister as I only hoped for good
things for her) in bed with his ex-girlfriend a year after their marriage
and the birth of their daughter, Tracy, my younger sister was getting
hitched again.

   (Now this bloke I liked)

   Heather, my sister, now 30 to my 45, had raised little Tracy on her own,
with only minimal help from the rest of the family.  She was determined to
show that one lousy ex-husband was not going to ruin her life and that she
could and would prove to be a fine, upstanding mother to Tracy.  And indeed
she was, as was evidenced by now-6-year-old Tracy, my niece, as
well-behaved and well-mannered a little girl that you could find.

   Brown hair ran in our family, but my sister's first husband had blonde
hair, so with blonde being the dominant gene Tracy was blessed with
beautiful blonde hair on her pretty little head.  She had her mother's
gorgeous green eyes.  What she inherited from her no-good two-timing father
(oops, that's my sister talking now) was his face, or rather his facial
characteristics.  He had been a rather handsome man, hence his straying
eyes (and other parts of his anatomy).  Tracy's features were just simply
outstanding.  To call her beautiful would be an understatement.  Her career
choice (when she grew up) should probably be modeling.

   Tracy was doted on by not only her mother, but also by me and my
parents. Not a day went by that I didn't buy her some sort of stuffed
animal or piece of jewelry or some sort of present.  And she would always
squeal with delight with whatever I happened to present to her.  Having no
formidable male "father figure" in her 6 years of life endeared me to her
and she saw me as a sort of quasi-patriarch, although at 6 years of age she
wouldn't know what that meant.

   So as I said the closer it got to the "big day" the more chaos reigned.
Last minute changes in guest seatings, dinner choices, music at the church
substitutions and the like made for an interesting Wedding Day Drama.  So
much so that the morning of the "big day" people were running absolutely
everywhere.  Literally.  All over the house.  Upstairs.  Downstairs.  In
the Cellar.  In the Attic.  What they were doing in the cellar and the
attic I did not know.  Nor did I wish to know.

   As per the Laws of Nuptials, the entire wedding party was running late.
My sister was having problems with her hair (what else is new) and the
groom was having trouble finding his best man (don't ask).  My sole task
was to get myself to the church and sit down.  I had no other function.  I
had done my part for the "big day" by creating a Wedding Missal which would
be given to each of the attendees of the wedding.

   This was not your usual wedding program that was a folded piece of
parchment paper listing the wedding party and the music that would be
played at the wedding.  No no no no no.

   My Wedding Missal was a work of art.  Something to be bronzed and put on
a shelf.  Something that would win awards.  Something that would----ok, it
was decent.

   So, I heaved a sigh of relief at not having to be privvy to the
pre-wedding confusion that was happening this morning.  I smiled inwardly
as I wished my sister good luck and was set to exit the circus and climb
into my car when my sister spoke three words which I did not exactly want
to hear.

   "What about Tracy?"

   A seemingly innocuous question, but given the pandemonium that was
issuing forth at the time also a loaded one.

   "Huh?" I said stupidly.

   "What about Tracy?" my sister repeated her non sequitur.

   "What about her?"

   (An intelligent response, no?  Can you tell that I write for a living?)

   "YOU have to take her for her dress!"

   (My sister stressed the word YOU which made me cower with fear).

   Immediately the whining started.  Not my sister.  Me.  My whining.

   "What do you mean "I" have to take her for her dress?"

   "Just what I said.  YOU."

   (Again with the accented word YOU).

   "Why me?"

   (Again, what a witty repartee).

   "Everyone else is doing something.  You're the only one free."

   "But--but--" I sputtered, trying to think of a way to extricate myself
from this fiendish plot to ruin my nonchalant morning free from duty.

   "But nothing!" my sister said, rather sternly.

   I looked in the room at her and noticed that her hair was still not set
right.  The fury in those green eyes cowed me and I stood there weak-kneed,
unable to move.

   "Why--why didn't SOMEONE have her dress READY ahead of time?" I asked,
stressing my own choice of words.

   (Bad mistake).

   "BECAUSE, dear BROTHER, the bridal shop had to sew a dress for her
because they didn't have one that small!  And in all this confusion SOMEONE
forgot about it until NOW!"

   It's not that I didn't want to take my niece for her dress, it's just
that when it came to everyday ordinary normal practices of life I sucked.
Big time.  What did I know about going to a bridal shop and making sure
that the dress they had sewn was the right one and would match the other
dresses of the wedding party?  What did I know about dealing with such
people?  I just wanted to go to the church and sit down.

   But my sister was having NONE OF IT.

   "First, you have to find Tracy.  She's somewhere in the house but I
don't know where."

   (Did you check the cellar and the attic, I thought to myself).

   "Second, you have to get her to the bridal shop and have them fit her
and get her to the church on time."

   (Now that sounds like a song).

   "But what--um, who--" I stammered.

   "It's all been arranged and taken care of, big brother.  You just have
to get Tracy to the shop and they will handle the rest.  Now can YOU handle
that?"

   "Um, well--I--I guess so," I said, feeling like a slug in front of all
the wedding party after being dressed down by my sister.

   "Well, then, what are you still doing standing there with that stupid
look on your face?"

   I was sorely tempted to say something back to my sister.  Something
about the way her hair looked at the moment.  But SOMEONE or SOMETHING held
my tongue and I was a better man for it.  To say something NOW in the
condition my sister was in was foolish.

   "TRACY!!!" I immediately yelled, and dashed off to find my niece.

   I checked the cellar.  I checked the attic.  She wasn't there.  Neither
was anyone else like I had thought they were.  I checked the bedrooms
upstairs.  No Tracy.  I checked the kitchen.  No Tracy.  Panic began to set
in.  My sister was going to kill me!

   I happened to glance out the kitchen window and 'Voila!" there she was.
Outside on the veranda sitting in the wood rocker.  I stepped out the back
door and went over to her.  She seemed lost in thought.  Or at least in as
much thought as a six-year-old could get lost in.

   "Hey, there, Tracy," I said softly.

   "Hi, Uncle Frank," she answered, monotone.

   "What's up, Doc?" I asked, imitating a weak Bugs Bunny.

   "Nothin'."

   (Typical answer from a girl).

   "Your mom says you have to go for your dress." "I know."

   "Well, are you ready to go?"

   "I guess."

   I sensed that something was wrong (astute, aren't I?) so I crouched down
in front of her and looked her in the eyes.

   "Hey, Pumpkin, what's really up with you?"

   (She liked when I called her Pumpkin).

   "Nothin'."

   "You already said that.  Nothin' is nothin' but a lie.  Now spill."

   "I don't know."

   (One of the famous little kids' lines, along with 'I didn't do it' and
'I can't find my socks').

   "Yes you do know.  Now tell me."

   "When mom gets married to Jim she won't have no time for me no more."

   (Aha!)

   "That's not true, Tracy.  Your mom isn't going anywhere.  She's staying
right here with you."

   "I know that, but she'll have Jim and she won't want to do things with
just me and her no more."

   "Now Tracy, you know that's not so.  Your mom and Jim have been seeing
one another for almost a year now.  Nothing will change."

   "You mean that, Uncle Frank?"

   "Of course I do, Pumpkin.  Besides, I'll still be here, too."

   "Okay."

   "Good.  Now can we please go before your mom bites my head off again!"

   Tracy laughed and I stood up and grabbed her hand and we walked towards
my car.  I checked my watch.  I had a half hour to get Tracy to the dress
shop, get her fitted, and back to the church.  Piece of cake.

   I'll never make it in time.

   COMING NEXT:

   Chapter Two:

   L'Atelier Robe (French) The Dress Shop



   J'aimerai un 69!  J'adore les petites filles, et vous?  Bonne nuit,
ltlgrl69 

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