Celina Campos wanted to scream. She was SUPPOSED to become Celina Martin today, but those plans changed the moment SHE arrived. Her fiance's ex had barged into the dressing room unwanted and unannounced.
"Thank you for coming to my wedding," the woman had said.
"You mean MY wedding," Celina remembered saying. "Who invited you here of all people?"
Stacey simply chortled. "The bride needing an invitation to her own wedding. That's a good one. You would make a great clown for the reception if I hadn't already chosen you to be the flower girl."
What had she just said!? The nerve! With every fiber of her being, Celina rushed over to the wedding crasher and... dropped her wedding dress!? It slid off her body easily, leaving her standing in the nude, stepping out of it for Stacey to smirk and flick one of her tiny nipples.
"My, I DID choose my flower girl well. If I didn't know better, I'd take one look at your chest and think you were so much younger than 28."
Celina blushed with an anger that came off as delight when she spread a proud smile. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Martin. I'm so honored that you're willing to wear my mother's dress for the big day. It never did fit me."
No! That's not what she wanted to say! She didn't want to compliment this scumbag. Or slip it up past Stacey's hip. Or tie it into place. Moments later, sitting between Stacey's spread legs, she spotted the woman's dripping hairy bush from the corner of her eye as she applied the bride's pink nail polish. Humming a merry tune under Stacey's smug guidance, she jolted when the door flung open and her three flabbergasted bridesmaids entered.
"What... What is going on here?" Renita asked.
At first, Celina trembled with humiliation. Her quivering lower lip eventually brought forth words, but not the right ones.
"Hi ladies!" Celina said with the wide-eyed excitement of a child. "Isn't it wonderful? Stacey's arrived in time for her wedding, and she's letting me be her flower girl!"
She hoped, so deeply, that one of them would realize how wrong this was and intervene. Instead, they broke into their own bouts of giddiness.
"About time!"
"I'm so glad our silly Celly came to her senses."
"Here, let me get our cute little girl ready while you two work on Stacey."
Taken aside, Celina's heart pounded with outrage and betrayal while one of her good friends wiped the more elegant makeup from her face. A layer of much simpler foundation went on first, then some light powder. Very little went to her cheeks. She didn't need rouge. She would be making plenty of it for herself. Her friend stripped her nail polish, leaving them incredibly plain, ordinary, naked as the ex-bride herself. Some darker pink lipstick went on next. Beside the muted, more adult lip shades of Stacey and the bridesmaids, Celina's color was overly showy and positively juvenile, like a kid trying her best to look the part of a grown-up. Once ready, they moved on to the dress.
Her dress. Not THE dress. While the bride got to wear the priceless family heirloom with sequins along her cleavage, and the bridesmaids looked like aquamarine dreams, her gown was white and sleeveless with a mid-thigh skirt. Its lacy, frilly design had the disgusting embroidered flower pattern she had immediately rejected when picking bridal clothes. Too immature. The sort of fancy best left to little girls and their toy dolls. Now she was going to wear it.
Her friend Beth pulled it over her head, then helped her arms through the holes. It fit snugly, as if tailor made for her. Her legs showed bare as she tugged on a pair of brown cowgirl boots, grimacing to herself when she glanced aside at her ex-bridesmaids' elegant high heels. She hated heels, but the loss of her right to them put her ordeal in sharp relief. For them, a real woman's footwear. For her, flat soles that kept her poor girly legs from having to stumble around in shoes too classy for her to handle.
Standing at Beth's behest, she walked over to a mirror and gasped at what she saw.
"This is mortifying," Celina said, before her mouth happily added, "I love it! Nobody will mistake me for a big girl with this."
"Or the bride," corrected Stacey.
On Celina's face, a grin. In her mind, boiling hot rage. Her chest flushed while Beth provided the final touches of a flower crown and worse yet, a glittery gold necklace with her first name. She knew what it implied: that she, a full-fledged woman, couldn't be trusted to remember her own name. That she might run off in a fit of random glee and get herself lost, too dumb to find her own way back, and need an adult to help her out. It brilliantly displayed this insult below her neck, above a neckline much higher than her busty, well-endowed usurper.
Gripping her flower basket's handle in both hands, she pensively awaited the new bride's makeover as the stings of amused judgment rained upon her. Their work soon complete, they left with a single stop before the big moment.
The photographer. Set up and ready in the garden, the procession marched to the carefully, painstakingly planned spot.
Celina had spent hours on this. The rustic background, the hanging bottles, the camera angle, everything to get it exactly right for a fun picture meant to commemorate her last moments as a bachelorette. Instead, as Stacey and the bridesmaids took up their sticks with attached paper glasses, paper lips, paper mustaches and paper pipe, she took into her grasp... baby blue heart glasses. They placed her in the middle, further back, where she ducked to a lower stance as befitting her status among them.
What had started as a fantasy come true, became a joke with her as its butt.
"Uh, umm," the photographer stammered. "I thought she was..."
"Oh, her?" Stacey openly laughed. "Ha! As if this cute little flower girl is ever going to get married."
More insult to injury, Stacey pinched her cheek. The camera clicked. Then again, when Beth ruffled her head. Then AGAIN, when a double team of the two women tickled her armpits. Each picture captured for all time this fond memory of the ladies, her ex-bridesmaids, her babysitters, teasing the flower girl while she squirmed and squealed for relief.
"S-stop, stop!" Celina begged between breathless giggles.
"Awww, Celly's having a lil tantrum," Stacey mocked.
"I'm sure you can teach her out of it after you adopt her," Beth suggested as they paused to let it sink in.
For the first time, Celina froze in horror. "A-adopt? You mean I'm going to be-"
Stacey, the hated ex, the rival waiting in the wings, nodded. "That's right. If you're a good girl, you'll get to call me mom."
"Yay!" Celina cheered, leaping up to hug Stacey, shuddering as the warmth of her skin seeped through. God, this was too much. Their laughter at the puerile display, the stroking of her hair by Stacey, every act enhanced her embarrassment tenfold. The worst part, the VERY worst part, was when she knelt on the ground and peered up with pure wonder as they rained petals upon her. At least if they were cocks spewing cum from above she could feel like an adult forced to take part in a gangbang. This had to be the safest, cleanest, PG rated version of it, and her spirit sank a little as she gathered what they dropped. Until they lifted her by the armpits.
"Eeek!" Celina cried. She tucked her legs under her to add the illusion of shortness, as they carried her onward to the altar. They stopped just before, allowing her to hide behind them, obscured from view, the guests bearing witness to the lovely sound of Canon in D by Pachelbel.
For them, the musical classic brought triumph. For Celina, each pound of the keys was another blow to her pride. Beth went. Renita went. Janet went. Then it was her turn. Her short skirt ruffled in the wind. She clasped and released handfuls of petals. The gasps of shock rang in her ears when her guests - everyone from her real mom to her boss to her next door neighbors - caught sight of her.
To answer their surprise, she waved and beamed brightly. "Hi everyone! Aren't I the bestest little flower girl?"
Her groom at the altar stood agape. "Celina! Why are you doing that, dressed like that? This is our wedding!"
Celina giggled and died a little more inside. "Nuh-uh, this is Stacey's wedding. She's so pretty and sweet and grown-up, but I'm just silly Celly."
Just as Celina's mother was about to protest, SHE emerged, and everything fell into its rightful place. Their appreciative gazes fed into a very different remark than Celina's mother planned to make moments ago.
"Oh my, Stacey's so beautiful! She fills it out much better than Celly ever could."
"Thank you, thank you," Stacey said to a burst of applause, before turning her attention where it counted most. "And thank YOU, Mrs. Campos, for giving up your one and only daughter as a wedding present for my big day."
"It's nothing, really," Celina's mother modestly proposed. "I know Celly's going to love her new life as your precious little girl. You're all she talks about."
"Is that so."
Celina's mother nodded. "She'd say things like 'Stacey's trying to steal my man' and 'Stacey wants to ruin my big day.' It was so cute to watch her pout, but I knew every time she did it that all she really wanted was your attention. That's the whole reason she planned this wedding."
"Well, now she'll get plenty of attention from me, won't you dear?"
Celina shuddered from a gentle yet imperious hand rubbing her shoulder. Her cheeks burned, giving her the rouge she so desperately needed. "Y-yes, mommy. I can't wait for you to play with me."
"Aww, you're too precious, but mommy has a little honeymoon to enjoy after the wedding. Your daddy and I might even make a big brother to look after you."
B... BIG brother? How far was this going to go!?
No, she didn't need an answer. Yes, she got one anyway.
"Say, Mrs. Martin," Celina's mother said. "How about I babysit Celly for you while you're gone? I still have her old toys she can play with."
"Hmm...." Stacey pondered. The whole world seemed to wait on her, like this decision alone was hers to take as long as she dared. Finally, she said, "Sure, but only if you give her the smallest room in the house. My little flower girl needs to remember just how little she is."
"Great! I'll send some pictures so you can see what a good girl she is."
"Why stop there? Set up some cameras in her room and post them online. I'm sure a lot more people besides us would love to watch our silly Celly during playtime."
At once, the fight drained from Celina. She had lost, completely. Her groom, her mother, her friends, everyone agreed on one simple idea: she wasn't an adult. She didn't count anymore. She was Celly, the cute little flower girl for her new mom Stacey. Didn't matter that she was 3 years older than the bride.
Dejected and defeated, Celly bowed her head and dropped another handful of petals on her path toward her ex-fiance and future father. Today, she would become Celina Martin after all. With the adoption papers to prove it.
(This caption was inspired by a great WIP story called Wedding Crasher by B-Rex. I also added a new disclaimer due to the pictures of this post: I'll remove the post if the photograph owner or person/people present in it wants the photograph taken down.)
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Celina Campos wanted to scream. She was SUPPOSED to become Celina Martin today, but those plans changed the moment SHE arrived. Her fiance's ex had barged into the dressing room unwanted and unannounced.
"Thank you for coming to my wedding," the woman had said.
"You mean MY wedding," Celina remembered saying. "Who invited you here of all people?"
Stacey simply chortled. "The bride needing an invitation to her own wedding. That's a good one. You would make a great clown for the reception if I hadn't already chosen you to be the flower girl."
What had she just said!? The nerve! With every fiber of her being, Celina rushed over to the wedding crasher and... dropped her wedding dress!? It slid off her body easily, leaving her standing in the nude, stepping out of it for Stacey to smirk and flick one of her tiny nipples.
"My, I DID choose my flower girl well. If I didn't know better, I'd take one look at your chest and think you were so much younger than 28."
Celina blushed with an anger that came off as delight when she spread a proud smile. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Martin. I'm so honored that you're willing to wear my mother's dress for the big day. It never did fit me."
No! That's not what she wanted to say! She didn't want to compliment this scumbag. Or slip it up past Stacey's hip. Or tie it into place. Moments later, sitting between Stacey's spread legs, she spotted the woman's dripping hairy bush from the corner of her eye as she applied the bride's pink nail polish. Humming a merry tune under Stacey's smug guidance, she jolted when the door flung open and her three flabbergasted bridesmaids entered.
"What... What is going on here?" Renita asked.
At first, Celina trembled with humiliation. Her quivering lower lip eventually brought forth words, but not the right ones.
"Hi ladies!" Celina said with the wide-eyed excitement of a child. "Isn't it wonderful? Stacey's arrived in time for her wedding, and she's letting me be her flower girl!"
She hoped, so deeply, that one of them would realize how wrong this was and intervene. Instead, they broke into their own bouts of giddiness.
"About time!"
"I'm so glad our silly Celly came to her senses."
"Here, let me get our cute little girl ready while you two work on Stacey."
Taken aside, Celina's heart pounded with outrage and betrayal while one of her good friends wiped the more elegant makeup from her face. A layer of much simpler foundation went on first, then some light powder. Very little went to her cheeks. She didn't need rouge. She would be making plenty of it for herself. Her friend stripped her nail polish, leaving them incredibly plain, ordinary, naked as the ex-bride herself. Some darker pink lipstick went on next. Beside the muted, more adult lip shades of Stacey and the bridesmaids, Celina's color was overly showy and positively juvenile, like a kid trying her best to look the part of a grown-up. Once ready, they moved on to the dress.
Her dress. Not THE dress. While the bride got to wear the priceless family heirloom with sequins along her cleavage, and the bridesmaids looked like aquamarine dreams, her gown was white and sleeveless with a mid-thigh skirt. Its lacy, frilly design had the disgusting embroidered flower pattern she had immediately rejected when picking bridal clothes. Too immature. The sort of fancy best left to little girls and their toy dolls. Now she was going to wear it.
Her friend Beth pulled it over her head, then helped her arms through the holes. It fit snugly, as if tailor made for her. Her legs showed bare as she tugged on a pair of brown cowgirl boots, grimacing to herself when she glanced aside at her ex-bridesmaids' elegant high heels. She hated heels, but the loss of her right to them put her ordeal in sharp relief. For them, a real woman's footwear. For her, flat soles that kept her poor girly legs from having to stumble around in shoes too classy for her to handle.
Standing at Beth's behest, she walked over to a mirror and gasped at what she saw.
"This is mortifying," Celina said, before her mouth happily added, "I love it! Nobody will mistake me for a big girl with this."
"Or the bride," corrected Stacey.
On Celina's face, a grin. In her mind, boiling hot rage. Her chest flushed while Beth provided the final touches of a flower crown and worse yet, a glittery gold necklace with her first name. She knew what it implied: that she, a full-fledged woman, couldn't be trusted to remember her own name. That she might run off in a fit of random glee and get herself lost, too dumb to find her own way back, and need an adult to help her out. It brilliantly displayed this insult below her neck, above a neckline much higher than her busty, well-endowed usurper.
Gripping her flower basket's handle in both hands, she pensively awaited the new bride's makeover as the stings of amused judgment rained upon her. Their work soon complete, they left with a single stop before the big moment.
The photographer. Set up and ready in the garden, the procession marched to the carefully, painstakingly planned spot.
Celina had spent hours on this. The rustic background, the hanging bottles, the camera angle, everything to get it exactly right for a fun picture meant to commemorate her last moments as a bachelorette. Instead, as Stacey and the bridesmaids took up their sticks with attached paper glasses, paper lips, paper mustaches and paper pipe, she took into her grasp... baby blue heart glasses. They placed her in the middle, further back, where she ducked to a lower stance as befitting her status among them.
What had started as a fantasy come true, became a joke with her as its butt.
"Uh, umm," the photographer stammered. "I thought she was..."
"Oh, her?" Stacey openly laughed. "Ha! As if this cute little flower girl is ever going to get married."
More insult to injury, Stacey pinched her cheek. The camera clicked. Then again, when Beth ruffled her head. Then AGAIN, when a double team of the two women tickled her armpits. Each picture captured for all time this fond memory of the ladies, her ex-bridesmaids, her babysitters, teasing the flower girl while she squirmed and squealed for relief.
"S-stop, stop!" Celina begged between breathless giggles.
"Awww, Celly's having a lil tantrum," Stacey mocked.
"I'm sure you can teach her out of it after you adopt her," Beth suggested as they paused to let it sink in.
For the first time, Celina froze in horror. "A-adopt? You mean I'm going to be-"
Stacey, the hated ex, the rival waiting in the wings, nodded. "That's right. If you're a good girl, you'll get to call me mom."
"Yay!" Celina cheered, leaping up to hug Stacey, shuddering as the warmth of her skin seeped through. God, this was too much. Their laughter at the puerile display, the stroking of her hair by Stacey, every act enhanced her embarrassment tenfold. The worst part, the VERY worst part, was when she knelt on the ground and peered up with pure wonder as they rained petals upon her. At least if they were cocks spewing cum from above she could feel like an adult forced to take part in a gangbang. This had to be the safest, cleanest, PG rated version of it, and her spirit sank a little as she gathered what they dropped. Until they lifted her by the armpits.
"Eeek!" Celina cried. She tucked her legs under her to add the illusion of shortness, as they carried her onward to the altar. They stopped just before, allowing her to hide behind them, obscured from view, the guests bearing witness to the lovely sound of Canon in D by Pachelbel.
For them, the musical classic brought triumph. For Celina, each pound of the keys was another blow to her pride. Beth went. Renita went. Janet went. Then it was her turn. Her short skirt ruffled in the wind. She clasped and released handfuls of petals. The gasps of shock rang in her ears when her guests - everyone from her real mom to her boss to her next door neighbors - caught sight of her.
To answer their surprise, she waved and beamed brightly. "Hi everyone! Aren't I the bestest little flower girl?"
Her groom at the altar stood agape. "Celina! Why are you doing that, dressed like that? This is our wedding!"
Celina giggled and died a little more inside. "Nuh-uh, this is Stacey's wedding. She's so pretty and sweet and grown-up, but I'm just silly Celly."
Just as Celina's mother was about to protest, SHE emerged, and everything fell into its rightful place. Their appreciative gazes fed into a very different remark than Celina's mother planned to make moments ago.
"Oh my, Stacey's so beautiful! She fills it out much better than Celly ever could."
"Thank you, thank you," Stacey said to a burst of applause, before turning her attention where it counted most. "And thank YOU, Mrs. Campos, for giving up your one and only daughter as a wedding present for my big day."
"It's nothing, really," Celina's mother modestly proposed. "I know Celly's going to love her new life as your precious little girl. You're all she talks about."
"Is that so."
Celina's mother nodded. "She'd say things like 'Stacey's trying to steal my man' and 'Stacey wants to ruin my big day.' It was so cute to watch her pout, but I knew every time she did it that all she really wanted was your attention. That's the whole reason she planned this wedding."
"Well, now she'll get plenty of attention from me, won't you dear?"
Celina shuddered from a gentle yet imperious hand rubbing her shoulder. Her cheeks burned, giving her the rouge she so desperately needed. "Y-yes, mommy. I can't wait for you to play with me."
"Aww, you're too precious, but mommy has a little honeymoon to enjoy after the wedding. Your daddy and I might even make a big brother to look after you."
B... BIG brother? How far was this going to go!?
No, she didn't need an answer. Yes, she got one anyway.
"Say, Mrs. Martin," Celina's mother said. "How about I babysit Celly for you while you're gone? I still have her old toys she can play with."
"Hmm...." Stacey pondered. The whole world seemed to wait on her, like this decision alone was hers to take as long as she dared. Finally, she said, "Sure, but only if you give her the smallest room in the house. My little flower girl needs to remember just how little she is."
"Great! I'll send some pictures so you can see what a good girl she is."
"Why stop there? Set up some cameras in her room and post them online. I'm sure a lot more people besides us would love to watch our silly Celly during playtime."
At once, the fight drained from Celina. She had lost, completely. Her groom, her mother, her friends, everyone agreed on one simple idea: she wasn't an adult. She didn't count anymore. She was Celly, the cute little flower girl for her new mom Stacey. Didn't matter that she was 3 years older than the bride.
Dejected and defeated, Celly bowed her head and dropped another handful of petals on her path toward her ex-fiance and future father. Today, she would become Celina Martin after all. With the adoption papers to prove it.
(This caption was inspired by a great WIP story called Wedding Crasher by B-Rex. I also added a new disclaimer due to the pictures of this post: I'll remove the post if the photograph owner or person/people present in it wants the photograph taken down.)