Abbreviated Abbey

I've just posted a new story on both of my story sites, a small excerpt is posted below, so if you like it then please follow either of the links to the full version

ASSTR or XNXX

Summary: A young girl has an accident on her bike, sustaining serious injuries, but her Daddy is there to look after her. Heart rending decisions have to be made in order to save her life, but Daddy stays at her side through everything she endures.

*Recovery

Abbey Dyer had always been a lovely child, happy, friendly, always willing to help, and was dearly loved by her Mommy and Daddy from the moment she was born. Her name had been chosen by her Mommy, Susan Dyer, after her favourite aunt, and she had been named Abigail on all the official documents, but she was called Abbey by everyone she knew. There was only Grandma who called her Abigail on a regular basis, and her Mommy used the Sunday name when she was in trouble.

Michael Dyer had married Susan Thorpe when they were both in their mid twenties, and had moved into a lovely large house in Rutland, Vermont. There were only three houses on the whole block, with another half dozen up each of four side roads, all spread out like their own, and all dead ends, so there was very little traffic. There was forest behind the house, and extensive meadowland, reaching miles in every other direction, which made the location idyllic for both of them.

Abbey had been sleeping such a long time, and yet she was still so very, very tired that she could hardly lift her head or remember where she was, even though she’d heard Daddy’s voice in her room many times, yet stayed deep asleep. Daddy was calling her now, asking her to wake up and open her eyes, his hand stroking her ear, and trailing his finger down her arm. It felt nice being touched so softly, but her arm ached really bad, as if she’d been laid on it, although it wasn’t as bad as last time, yesterday, she thought, or maybe the day before, but Abbey couldn’t recall waking on either day. It must have been a dream. She screwed her face up as the ache got worse, growing painful, till Daddy pressed a plastic Lego knight into her hand, saying “Hold on to Lancelot my Lady, and use his shield to protect your arm.”

Abbey quickly immersed herself in the game as Guinevere, taking the bright shield from her bold Knight, and placing it at her side as the pain eased a little, though she had no idea why she was hurting. This was the game Mommy and Daddy had taught her when she was poorly, and the medicine wouldn’t work properly, and it made the pain go further away. Daddy was talking softly to her, her eyelids fluttering open and closed as she roused herself. She was alright, Daddy said to her, she was safe now, and the doctors had made her better, mended all the scratches, fixed the broken bits as best they could so she wouldn’t hurt anymore. He held her face in his hands now, keeping her eyes fixed on his as he explained that she’d had an accident, but was now out of hospital, and back home, safe in her own bedroom.

Slowly she looked at her arm as Daddy talked to her about Mommy and doctors and hospitals, and getting better, hardly hearing the words as she looked at the tiny arm coming from her shoulder, just like Mommy’s had so long ago, yet almost yesterday inside her mind. Abbey blinked her eyes, wondering where her elbow was, and her lower arm with its pattern of freckles, where had the jangly bangles on her wrist gone to, and the wriggly fingers with pink painted nails. Her mind would not accept that a part of her was missing, till she looked over to her dresser, the reflection so much like her one armed Mommy, with a pink nightie, and a long braid wrapped round her slender neck. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she asked if she was going to go and join Mommy now, the image of the last picnic they’d had together filling Abbey’s mind with her central supportive memory.

Michael hugged his daughter close, as he assured her that she was young and very strong, and would live to be as old as Grandma, and just as cranky, which brought a little half smile to Abbey’s face as they shared the family joke her Grandma told. Michael climbed onto her bed, up against the pink headboard, and snuggled Abbey under his arm, cuddling and chatting about all the things that had happened since the accident, and how she was now nearly completely better. She kept looking at her arm, the scar on the end having been hidden with a white cotton sock, trimmed with lace that had a pink ribbon through it to match her nightie, and she said it looked so cute. Using her good hand, Abbey removed the sock and studied the contours of the stump, feeling the end of the bone, and the curvy scar where her skin was sewn up. It felt strange, but tingled as her fingers traced over it, sending shivers right down her backbone. There were no marks on her other arm, or legs, where they had all been broken, as plaster casts had been used to hold them while they healed, but Daddy showed her the tiny scar on her inner calf where a piece of metal had stuck in her.

Abbey had a vague memory of her tummy being hurt, but the details were fuzzy, and when she ran her hand over her nightie down there, she shuddered, saying she’d just pee’d, and she couldn’t stop it. Michael laughed and said not to worry, she had a tube in there so she didn’t have to keep getting up while she was poorly, but now she was up and about, the nurse would take it out during the day. Abbey’s eyes lit up at hearing this, “Have I got a little bag as well, like Mommy had?” she asked, “You didn’t like emptying that; the nurse had to do it, and me. I liked doing that to help my Mommy.” Leaning over the side of the bed to look, a little voice said, “That’s cool” not caring that her nightie was riding up and showing her bare bottom to her Daddy, which he promptly slapped with his hand, but not very hard. Telling her to give up messing about, he took her shoulders and pulled her back up again, onto her pillow.

While Abbey had been distracted by another link to Mommy, her thoughts soon went back to the accident, remembering a piece of metal sticking out of her tummy as she tried so hard to block the horrible pain. She was just about to lift her nightie and find out how bad the damage had been, when the actual event flooded into her memory, with torturous pain, and blood, and sharp knives slicing her to pieces. Abbey froze in place, terrified now by thoughts of the destruction wreaked on the newly developed girl parts she had been so proud of, a haunting image of being split in two. Michael saw her reaction, guessing what was now going through her young mind, hugging her trembling body to him as he calmly promised her that everything was alright now. There was nothing to be frightened of, because she was all better now, and at the time it had looked much worse than it actually was.

Slowly, Abbey eased up the hem of her nightie, baring her girl mound, as she loved to do ever since it had started to fill out, changing from a flat baby slit, to a grown up lady’s mons, just like her Mommy, but not as puffy. Yet. There was a pink coloured line right down the centre, from a two inch long T bar along her tummy crease, into the top of her cleft, where it disappeared. The pink scar was edged with white each side, and she could feel the ridges where it raised up, as she stroked her finger over her new shape. It felt funny too, not as squishy as her mons, and not as sensitive to the touch of her fingertip, and the indented scar had even less feeling, with a dead spot every now and then. Abbey happily described her explorations to Daddy, every responsive feeling to her roving digits, even the tiny tingles in her button, perfectly at ease with her body’s reactions. Nudity and exploration had never been a taboo issue in Abbey’s home, whenever she was curious, there would always be an answer from Mommy or Daddy, structured to her age and understanding, but always truthful. These youthful sexual surveys were never presented as being wrong, but Abbey had understood from a very young age that some things were inappropriate for others to accept, so she’d be discreet when it was required.

Michael explained to his daughter that there were still a few issues with her recovery, especially her damaged pubis, which didn’t want to knit together properly, and they’d tried all sorts of ways to get it to heal, but it kept peeling apart like bad sticky tape at the end of a few weeks. While it was a problem, the doctor was confident they would find the right mix of ingredients to hold her together, even if was Velcro, and they both laughed when Abbey said she’d be like a pencil case. It was nice to see all the trauma hadn’t destroyed the young girl’s spirit, and Michael kissed his brave little daughter. He showed her the call button he’d had installed, to let someone know if she needed anything, sending a call to a pager that would always be carried by one of the staff, either the nurse, the cook, or the housemaid, or Daddy when everyone else was off duty. Abbey buzzed it when Daddy told her, and a few minutes later, a pretty nurse came in the bedroom, introduced herself as Nurse Janet, and asked if she could help. Michael asked her to arrange a drink and something to eat for Abbey before the doctor arrived this afternoon, and they’d get her washed up as well.

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This story is fantasy, not based on any real events, and should not be re-enacted in any way.



If you, the reader, do not know the difference between reality and fantasy, then leave now, and seek urgent medical help.





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