The Real Stepford Wives Sugar Plum Fairy
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Sugar Plum Fairy free porn video
Copyright Oggbashan November 2014
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary, the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
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I had gone to the Christmas costume party only to escort my sister Mary. It was full of her friends and I didn’t know any of them well. Mary had insisted that I should get out more and socialise. I didn’t feel like it. Even though my engagement had ended six months ago I was still hurting, particularly as I had just received an invitation to my ex-fiancée Andrea’s wedding to John next month.
Andrea had wanted to be the scatty blonde who would rely on her man to look after and provide for her, to allow her to do anything stupid and rescue her from her mistakes. I thought it was an act and that she would change. It wasn’t an act. She really wanted to be irresponsible, flighty, flirt with any man she met, and avoid all responsibilities. I wanted a girlfriend and ultimately a wife who would stand beside me, not hide behind me.
Eventually her incessant flirting became too much for me to bear. We had an argument and finally agreed to part. We still liked each other but were incompatible. John, her husband-to-be seemed happy with Andrea’s role. I couldn’t be.
**
On the way to the party Mary had wanted me to help carry some household items up two flights of stairs to her friend Julie’s new flat. Julie had been trying to move for months but the legalities of buying it had seemed endless. Mary would park her car near Julie’s flat and then we three would walk a couple of hundred yards to the party.
After the party, Mary and Julie would go back to Julie’s flat for the rest of the night, if there were to be any rest of the night left. I would probably take a taxi back home to my own flat.
Mary was dressed revealingly as a good witch, with a very large hooped skirt and a glittering cleavage-revealing bustier. That meant I did most of the carrying. Mary was struggling just to manage her skirt up and down the stairs. I was boring as Count Dracula in tight black trousers, a long black Edwardian jacket, a massive cloak lined with red silk and a floppy hat. I had a pair of fangs but I had not bothered to put them in my mouth. I would have been more appropriate at Halloween. I had the costume and didn’t want to hire one.
I was dubious about Mary staying the night in Julie’s flat. It was piled with boxes and several items of flat pack furniture cluttered the living room. The main bedroom had a mattress on the floor with the bed frame leaning against a wall. But if Mary partied as she usually did she wouldn’t leave before dawn.
As I expected, I was bored. Mary’s friends are several years younger than I am, and they seemed so unsophisticated and naïve. Perhaps they were, or perhaps I was just feeling jaded. Anyway, I drank too much. Alcohol made me more moody and even more detached from the party activities than I would have been.
I went to the kitchen to make myself some strong coffee. I might call a taxi and go home. The kitchen was in the far reaches of the ground floor of the large Victorian house. I slung my cloak over the back of a chair and put my hat on the seat. The sounds of the party seemed far away as I filled the kettle and found the coffee.
Then I heard a faint sound. I looked around the kitchen. There was nothing and nobody that could have caused the sound. I heard it again. This time it sounded like somebody trying to cry quietly. There was no one else in the kitchen.
The back door was firmly bolted, but there was another door, perhaps to the pantry. I flung it open. Curled up in a heap on the floor was a young woman dressed in a ball-like purple costume.
‘Hello,’ I said, rather too brightly, ‘why are you hiding in the pantry?’
She jumped up and flung herself at me. She started sobbing loudly against my shoulder. I held her, stroking her bare arm.
‘What have you come as?’ I asked. I don’t know why.
In between sobs she managed to say that she was the Sugar-Plum Fairy.
‘Sugar-Plums should be sweet, nice and smiling,’ I replied, leaving her to explain her distress if she would.
‘He’s gone,’ she sobbed.
‘Who’s gone?’
‘Brian, my boyfriend, and I’ve got all his keys. He can’t go home. I don’t know where he’ll go, or what he’ll do.’
‘And why did he go?’
‘We had a row. He said hurtful things to me. He said he didn’t want the baby…’
She started sobbing again. I had already realised that her round costume was covering a large bump. I had drunk too much alcohol to be tactful.
‘Like a coffee? I’m making some.’
‘I shouldn’t. I’ve been on fruit juices because of this.’ She patted her bump before wetting my shoulder again.
But she did. She sank two cups of coffee, most of the time sitting on my lap. She recognised me as Count Dracula which argued a reasonable amount of observation. She called me Dracula. I called her Sugar-Plum.
Gradually she explained what had happened. Brian was her current boyfriend but not the father of her baby. The baby’s father is a married man who hadn’t admitted that he was married until Sugar-Plum was four months pregnant. Until then he had been pretending that they would marry before the baby’s due date. Brian had been a friend before she met the unnamed married man and had comforted her when she had been brutally dumped.
But it seems that Brian was a bit of a prude. Sugar-Plum’s costume had been a surprise and a shock to him. The plum concealed the bump but emphasised her recently increased breast size. He had objected to the display. He had drunk too much. They had argued before he stomped out of the front door in a huff saying that he wanted her but not the bastard. She said something about the wedding but she was too incoherent, or I was too drunk to take it in.
Unfortunately for Brian he had come as a super-hero in a very tight skimpy costume. He had nowhere to put his keys and phone so had given them to Sugar-Plum to keep in her handbag. He had kept some banknotes in his pants but nothing else. So now he was out in the street in a revealing costume. Without his keys he couldn’t return home and he couldn’t phone anyone else for help. Sugar-Plum thought he was despicable, horrid but stupid. She didn’t want to see him again but she had to get his keys and phone back to him. Could Count Dracula help?
Count Dracula was too drunk to refuse. I wrapped my cloak around her, left her in the kitchen for a couple of minutes while I told Mary that I was going, and then we crept out of the front door. I had hoped that Brian would be hovering outside. He wasn’t.
I tried to think. Where would I go if I had money but couldn’t get back home? The nearest pub?
We tried the nearest pub. It was obviously an eatery for families. A super-hero would have been out of place. We tried several others. Each time Sugar-Plum cowered outside, wrapped in my cloak, my hat pulled well down on her head while I entered and prowled the bars. Without my hat, cloak and fangs I passed unremarked.
I found Brian in the sixth pub. As soon as I spotted him I slipped back outside to Sugar-Plum. She gave me his keys and phone. I went up to him. He was sitting at a table. He looked too drunk to stand. I sat down beside him but out of reach if he decided to take a swing at me.
‘Are you Brian?’ I asked.
‘Yes, who are you? You were at the party as Dracula.’ He could still speak.
‘Someone asked me to give you these. I don’t know her name. She just pointed you out and left.’
‘Is she OK? I’m worried about her.’
‘She’s OK. She’s a friend of my sister so she’s being looked after.’
I thought it better not to say I was looking after Su
gar-Plum.
‘She was concerned that she had your keys and phone. They are yours?’
‘Yes. Thanks mate. I don’t know what I would have done without them.’
‘Here you are. Thank her when you see her.’
He put them on the table with exaggerated care. His coordination was shot.
‘Thanks.’ He slowly picked up his drink, concentrating hard. I left him.
The barman intercepted me as I walked past the bar.
‘Is he a mate of yours?’
‘No. I don’t know him. He left his keys outside. I was just returning them.’
‘He’s drunk too much and says he can’t go home.’
‘He can. He didn’t have his door keys before. He has now.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know him?’
‘Sure. I have never met him before. Someone described what he was wearing and said he’d dropped those keys. I just did a favour for someone else.’
‘OK. I’ll try to get him to go home soon.’
I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps it was the despair on Brian’s face. I pulled out a twenty pound note and gave it to the barman.
‘Get him a taxi. This should be enough.’
The barman took the note but gave me a hard stare.
‘OK. I don’t understand but I’ll get him a taxi.’
I left before the barman could ask any more questions.
Sugar-Plum was sitting on a bench outside. She was shivering. I wrapped my arms around her.
‘Let’s get you home, Sugar-Plum. Where is home?’
‘I can’t go home.’
She started sobbing again.
‘Why not? Home would be best for you.’
‘I told my parents that I’d be out all night with Brian and that he’d bring me back just before lunch.’
‘Dressed like this? On a Sunday morning? Where are your other clothes?’
‘In his car. Outside his flat. I’ve still got his car keys because he said he was too drunk to drive.’
‘Where’s his flat? Could we get your clothes from his car?’
Sugar-Plum told me where his flat was, the make and number of his car, and the street in which it was parked.
‘OK, Sugar-Plum. We’re getting a taxi, going to his car, getting your clothes and I’ll put his car keys through his front door. You won’t have to see him.’
‘But where will I go?’ she wailed.
‘You can come home with me. I’ll take you home tomorrow, dressed in your own clothes.’
‘I don’t know you,’ Sugar-Plum objected. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘I don’t know you either, nor your name but I’m willing to give you shelter for the night. I’m Colin. I came to the party with my sister Mary…’
‘I know Mary. She’s my friend.’
‘Do you want me to ask Mary to confirm that I’m not a predator, despite being dressed as Count Dracula?’
‘No, Colin,’ Sugar-Plum said. ‘You can’t ruin me, anyway. I’m already well-ruined.’
She patted her bump.
‘I’m about two weeks away from giving birth to a baby no one wants. At least not my now ex-boyfriend nor the married cheat who gave me this.’
‘But you want it?’ I risked asking that.
‘Of course. The baby is mine. I hadn’t expected to be a single Mum but my parents have been great. Until tonight, so had Brian.’
‘Perhaps he’s scared of the responsibility?’
‘I don’t know. We were planning to set up home together, in his flat…’
I could see that she was on the brink of tears again.
‘We can’t stay here.’ I announced. ‘You’re getting cold. I’ll get a taxi, go to Brian’s car, get your clothes, post his keys, and take you to a warm house. OK?’
Sugar-Plum nodded.
I rang a local taxi company from my mobile. They promised to be there in five minutes, probably because it was still early in the evening. They were. Getting Sugar-Plum’s clothes and posting the car keys was easy but when I got back to the taxi she was fast asleep. I had to carry her to my front door, fumble for my keys without dropping her, get her inside and on to a settee before I could collect her small suitcase from the taxi driver and pay him.
I took a spare duvet from the bedroom and spread it over her. She stirred, grabbed the edge of the duvet and snuggled down, back to sleep. I went to the kitchen to make myself some more coffee. I had drunk too much and wasn’t sure what an awkward situation I had got myself into with Sugar-Plum. She seemed content at present but what would she say when she woke up in a stranger’s flat?
From time to time I went into the living room to check on Sugar-Plum. She was sleeping soundly. I was on my third cup of coffee and had visited the toilet twice. I was wondering whether I was sober enough to go to bed. I wasn’t. I made some more coffee.
My mobile phone buzzed. It could see that my sister was calling me.
‘Hello Sis,’ I said.
‘Where are you, Colin?’
‘At home, standing in my kitchen, making coffee. Why?’
‘Have you got Sonja with a J with you?’
‘I don’t know. Who is Sonja with a J?’
‘You don’t know? Don’t be stupid. Sonja’s missing.’
‘Was she dressed as a Sugar-Plum Fairy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then she’s here, asleep on my settee.’
‘Is she OK?’
‘OK? Apart from having been abandoned by her boyfriend, upset by his rejection, eight and a half months pregnant, and very tired, I assume she’s OK. Why, Mary? Why shouldn’t she be?’
‘We found that a gate crasher had been spiking some of our drinks, possibly with roofies. If Sonja had drunk one, she could be in real trouble because of her pregnancy.’
‘She wasn’t behaving like she was drunk or drugged, just upset and very tired. When did the spiking happen?’
‘About eleven, Colin. The gate crasher came about a quarter of an hour earlier.’
‘Then she and I are in the clear. We’d left before ten.’
‘Phew! I’ll ring her parents — now! I’ll call you again in a couple of minutes.’
I was left staring at my silent phone. Her parents? How did they know Sonja with a J was missing? I swallowed a cup of coffee and made another. Sonja may not have been drunk, but I was. Vaguely I was conscious of the importance of the J. One of Mary’s friends was a Sonia. I knew who that Sonia was but as far as I knew I had never seen Sonja with a J before. I walked into the sitting room. Sonja was still asleep. I went back to the kitchen and was halfway through the next cup of coffee when Mary rang again.
‘Colin?’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re sure Sonja’s OK?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘I’ve just checked. She’s sound asleep on my settee.’
‘Janet, her older sister, is on her way to you. So am I.’
‘OK. I’m not in a fit state for a party. I’ve drunk too much already.’
‘It won’t be a party. Sonja’s parents are worried sick. Brian didn’t go home even though you’d paid for his taxi. He went to Sonja’s house — to apologise even though he wasn’t in a fit state for that…’
‘He wasn’t. He was so drunk the pub was thinking of throwing him out. How do you know I paid for his taxi?’
‘He said that Dracula paid. You were the only one dressed as Dracula.’
‘And Sonja’s parents panicked?’
‘Yes. Sonja wasn’t at that party, wasn’t with Brian. She had vanished.’
‘She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to wait until tomorrow morning when she was due home.’
‘That would have been OK, Colin, except for a drunken Brian turning up at her parents.’
‘I seem to have got myself into a mess because of Sonja, haven’t I?’
‘I’m sure my brother behaved as a gentleman should. I know you too well, don’t I?’
‘I couldn’t leave a Sugar-Plum Fairy in distress, especially a pregnant one. I thought she would be safer here.’
‘I’m sure she is, Colin, but Janet and I will take over as soon as we get there.’
‘I hope you’re not driving? You’ve drunk enough even without the risk of roofies.’
‘Of course not! Janet is picking me up. She is driving herself. See you in about a quarter of an hour.’
I decided to change. I was fed up with being
Dracula. By the time Mary and Janet arrived I was wearing jeans and a sweat shirt. I still felt awful with a hangover imminent. I barely noticed Janet as Mary rushed in. Janet put a small suitcase down.
Janet and Mary crept into the living room and looked at Sonja.
‘She’s sound asleep,’ Mary whispered from the doorway.
‘I said she was,’ I whispered back. I walked groggily back to the kitchen and poured myself yet another black coffee. I wasn’t sure I was sober enough for explanations.
When Mary came into the kitchen she hurled herself at me and gave me a fierce hug. I love my sister but I know her too well. That sort of hug is a reward for doing something for her, or because she wants something from her big brother.
Janet moved Mary aside and kissed me. I responded cautiously. My faculties weren’t working properly but an attractive woman kissing me is always welcome. She hugged me nearly as hard as Mary had done and her kiss became insistent, forcing me to respond. I was aware of erect nipples pressing against me.
‘Janet!’ I heard Mary exclaim, ‘Let him breathe!’
I wasn’t in danger but Janet’s kiss was far more than I had expected. She pulled away slightly but kept hold of me.
‘You don’t remember, me, Colin, do you?’ Janet asked.
‘I may be drunk, but I don’t remember a Janet kissing me so well,’ I replied.
‘That’s because she wasn’t Janet,’ Mary said.
‘She’s another Mary. Remember Mary?’
I remembered a Mary but she was years ago. I had met her during a summer job when I was in my second year at university. We had spent a few days together as friends, but her kisses had been polite ones on my cheek.
‘I’m really Janet,’ she said. ‘I was only Mary Owens when we worked together. Mary is the first name on my birth certificate but no one uses it. It was my grandmother’s name. She is still alive so the family used my second name, Janet, to avoid confusion.’
I was still too confused by the drink to take all that in.
‘Mary didn’t kiss me like that…’
My words were stopped by another kiss from Janet/Mary.
‘No, I didn’t,’ she said. ‘I had a boyfriend then. You were just a pleasant work colleague. But now you have looked after Sonja for me, you deserve more.’
Cue for another kiss.
‘Colin,’ I heard my sister Mary say, ‘We need to talk about Sonja. Is there anywhere we can sit down?’
‘Sonja’s in my living room. You know the only other place is my bedroom.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Janet said.
She followed Mary, her arm wrapped around my waist. Had I made the bed? Yes. I had. The bedroom was tidy, as it usually is. I had hung up my Dracula costume in the hall. We sat down on my bed. Mary was pressed close to one side of me and Janet was even closer, snuggling her head against mine. Janet was as tall as me, slightly taller than Sonja.
‘What did Sonja say?’ Janet asked.
I repeated, as far as my still addled brain could manage, my conversations with Sonja.
‘That doesn’t agree with Brian’s version,’ Janet said.
‘I’m not surprised,’ I replied. ‘Sonja was very tired and upset. When I found Brian he was very drunk. I doubt either of them knows what they said to each other, or that they meant whatever they did say. All I do know is that Sonja, however upset she was, was worried about Brian, and he was worried about her. I think there was a misunderstanding between two people that love each other.’
Saying all that was an effort. I knew some of my words were slurred.
‘You’re drunk, aren’t you?’ Janet said.
I nodded.
‘Would you feel better stretched out?’
I wasn’t sure. My head was still swimming.
‘Come on,’ Janet said.
She pulled me gently. Mary lifted my legs. When they had finished my head was resting on my sister Mary’s full-skirted lap. Mary’s arms were draped across my chest. Janet was leaning over me, gently stroking my head. I closed my eyes. I meant to open them again in a few seconds. I was vaguely aware of Mary and Janet talking but I was soon asleep.
A full bladder woke me up a couple of hours later. Somehow I had been swapped from Mary’s lap to Janet’s. I weaved my way to the bathroom and back again. Janet’s arms reached out to me. I snuggled against her shoulder. She moved my head to her soft breasts and held me there. I went back to sleep very aware of Janet’s warm breasts against my face.
It was daylight when I woke again. Mary and Janet weren’t in the room. I walked into the bathroom gingerly. I wasn’t feeling as bad as I expected. In the kitchen Mary put a mug of black coffee in my hand. I had to put it down hurriedly. Sonja with a J was hugging me.
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