Title: Not Always a Prince

Author: Alan Hitchen

Email: darkmere2000@yahoo.co.uk

Archive: http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/alan.htm

Disclaimer: Popular is the property of Touchstone Television.

Pairing: Mary Cherry/?

Rating: R (for references to fellatio)

Based on the episode: Hope in a Jar by Wendy MacLeod.

Summary: Mary Cherry makes a discovery about herself and another.

In the Novak, as she preened before the mirror, Nicole Julian, as usual, was continuing to provide nuggets of wisdom for the benefit of those who would listen. Today's subject was boys, actually, it was almost always boys.

"Before you find your prince you've got to suck a lot of pricks," Nicole stated as fact.

The other blonde paused her appplication of pineapple flavour lipgloss. "Don't you mean, kiss a lot of frogs?"

"Not the way I do it, Mary Cherry, no."

"So is THAT why they call you Head Girl? Ah thought that was an official title. Ah wondered why there were no elections for the position."

"I've had worse titles, but that's just the way it is, if you want to get ahead you have to give some head."

"But what if they don't want head?"

"No man ever said no to a blow from me. Thank-you!"

"Ah'll take your word on it, but, Nic. No offence, but ah'd rather blow chunks. Ah just couldn't, and Brooke doesn't, does she?"

"No. Kennedy's Ice Queen is above all that. And considering her remarkably flat chest and boyish frame, I wouldn't be surprised to discover it was Josh who was sucking her cock not the other way round. Speaking of which, it's easy. I'll show you how."

Why exactly Nicole had penis-shaped vibrator in her bag Mary Cherry didn't dare ask, but she watched in astonishment as Nicole gave it a thorough servicing with her agile pink tongue. Then the strangest thing happened. She began to imagine that tongue caressing the private parts of her own body, and then she felt a tingle run up her spine as she found herself responding strongly to the exciting thoughts in her head at a place between her legs.

"Oh mah Lord, this is so so wrong," she heard herself say, before dashing out of the Novak in something approaching panic. In any event, neither of them noticed someone else had been watching and listening from the stalls. Soon after, in private, Mary Cherry sought advice from a friend she thought she could trust.

"Popita, you're a good Catholic, do you evah have lustful thoughts?"

"Yes, doesn't everyone?" Poppy replied brightly.

"About other women?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Poppy repeated.

"No!"

"Mary Cherry, what's the problem? So you have a crush on Gwyneth Paltrow. It doesn't make you a lesbian."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

Thus reassured, Mary Cherry decided test her heterosexuality out on a nice, safe boy she could invite to the Sadie Hawkins dance. That friend of Spam's would do, now what was his name again?

"Joe!" Harrison turned. Mary Cherry congratulated herself. She'd guessed right first time. "Joe, would you like to go to the Sadie Hawkins with me?"

As he struggled in his attempt to formulate a refusal that wouldn't offend she could see that his attention had been diverted elsewhere. Brooke passed by, a vision of blonde beauty. Thin blonde beauty. Damn! she thought, suddenly feeling as big as a house and only half as attractive.

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Time's up, loser! The offer has expired," she said in considerable annoyance, then stormed off to lunch, leaving 'Joe' to wonder just what had happened.

So, shortly after, while dividing a celery stick between them, Mary Cherry outlined her new plan of action to Poppy and Nicole.

"You'all. Later this week, when I lose my last twenty pounds, I'll be skeleton thin for the dance. Then, all I'll need is the perfect, gorgeous, muscle-y beau." Eyeing up the hunky form of Michael 'Stone Cold' Fox across the way, she went on: "And so ahm asking the hard-buttocked Stone Cold to the dance. Ah know for a fact he's available as Brooke has taken a pass."

"Well, Mary Cherry, I'm sorry. I happen to know he has a thing for galiente girls, okay? He's begged me many times to roll my Rs for him. He's been on my to-do list for weeks."

The Texan was just about to ask Poppy exactly what the founding member of the 'Knees Together' abstinence club planned to "do" with Stone Cold when Nicole chipped in with a challenging statement.

"Excuse me, Nicole Julian and Stone Cold are like fashion and anorexia, they go together. Thank-you."

"Well, mah mah," Mary Cherry bristled, "looks like we've got a catfight on our hands."

"What say we have ourselves a little contest?" Nicole suggested. "Whoever loses the most weight by Friday goes to the dance with Stone Cold."

The others agreed. "You're on!"

Then, pausing only to challenge Lily to prove her politically correct credentials weren't bogus by making her ask Emory Dick to the dance, and taking April Tuna in tow as their part of the bet, to prove that image was everything, they went to tell Stone Cold of the arrangement. But he already knew.

"So, ladies, a little birdie told the Fox here that you popular teases got a little gamble going on. Rumour has it that I'm the brass ring at the end of a bet." He smiled. "I like that. So, when do I get an invite, ladies?"

"You've just got one. You show up at the dance ready and oiled..." Nicole began suggestively. "And one of us will glide toward you, take you by the hand, feel you up, and that's the lady who done brought you to the dance," Mary Cherry completed with a smirk.

...

On the night of the dance, in the Novak, Mary Cherry was in despair at the sight of the redheaded horror grinning back up at her. "Nic, it's impossible. April Tuna is the black hole of beauty, nothing we do works on her."

Nicole, however, was not about to give up so easily and brandished the hairdryer in a threatening manner at April.

"No, she's just the ultimate makeover challenge. Listen up, chicken of the sea, I don't lose, get it?! So get ready to strike a pose or else!"

...

Later, having redoubled their efforts on 'Frankentuna', Mary Cherry, Nicole, and Poppy weighed themselves. The weight loss for each was identical.

"Well, as it's a draw, who gets Stone Cold?" asked Poppy.

Mary Cherry spoke up in answer. "Girls, I have a proposition. I have here in my insanely expensive mink evening bag the strongest laxative known to man - Convulse! Now, we all take one each and weigh in again in an hour. Winner takes all. Do we agree?"

"Agreed," said the other two, and took a capsule each.

"Tuna! Front and centre," commanded Nicole. "It's time to show you off and get Lily to kiss my triumphant ass."

The trio in their fashionably unidentical little black dresses and April Tuna in a silver-grey, fur-trimmed ballgown made their entrance. A spotlight picked out the now glamorous April and appreciative wolf-whistles followed.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?" asked Mary Cherry. It was a rhetorical question as she knew it was her, but April unexpectedly spoke in answer.

"I am. I feel pretty. Pretty horny."

"Can it, Tuna," Nicole snarled, and off they went in search of Lily. Sometime later the trio returned to where they had started, empty handed, as even April had slipped from their grasp.

"Where is Lily, Tuna and Stone Cold?" Mary Cherry asked exasperatedly.

"Oh, my God, is Convulse also an hallucinogenic? I think I'm seeing things," said Poppy, as she spied April, with dress at half-mast, hand-in-hand with Stone Cold.

Nicole was apoplectic. "Tuna, what are you doing? If you lose the facade we lose the bet."

"My date objected to the beauty industry's sleight of hand," replied the defiant readhead. "He was willing to buy me as is."

"Your date?!" the trio cried out in disbelief.

"Yes, ladies. I'm tired of women who only see me for my muscular definition. April Tuna's the first woman to see my soul."

Noting April's smeared lipstick, but not seeing any on Stone Cold's face, Mary Cherry came to another conclusion. Soul my ass, she's given him a blow job! No wonder Tuna can't stop smiling, she's just beaten Nicole at her own game, she thought.

But before Nicole could voice her own opinion on the matter Convulse kicked in, forcing a rapid exit. April laughed and whisked Stone Cold away to dance, leaving the other two standing awkwardly together.

"You didn't take it?" queried Poppy.

"No," Mary Cherry admitted sheepishly, "ah thought with both of you out of the way ah'd have Stone Cold to myself. You had the same idea then?"

"No, just the opposite, I didn't take it because I didn't want to win."

"Really? Why's that?"

Poppy shrugged. "He isn't my type," she said, and left it at that.

"Huh? Mr Hunk-O-Matic is not your type?"

Poppy shrugged again. "Forget it. He's April's now, anyway. Shouldn't we go see how Nicole is?"

"Not while Mount Julian is still erupting." Mary Cherry checked her watch. "Ah'd give it an hour, then we'll get her a cab home."

"And would that be before or after she kills us?"

"It won't come to that. Want to dance?"

"Okay, might as well."

"Hey, Sugar!" Mary Cherry called to the DJ. "Let's step it up a notch 'cause this girl's gonna shake some serious booty."

...

The Hummer ground to a halt with a squeal of brakes that set all the dogs in the neighbourhood yowling in pain. "Sorry 'bout that," Mary Cherry apologised. "I'll get Stupid Bob to fix it when I get back."

"Stupid Bob?" asked Poppy.

"Stupid Bill fixes the planes, Stupid Bob fixes the cars."

"Are they really stupid?"

"Don't know, that's what Momma calls them anyhow." Mary Cherry continued: "Poppy, there's something ah've been meaning to ask. You said Stone Cold wasn't your type. I'm kinda curious, what is your type?"

"Let's just say," said Poppy, locking intense eyes with her friend, "some girls who get crushes on other girls really are lesbians. And if the whole room had been full of handsome men I'd still have chosen you to dance with... Because you're my type."

"Me, but ah'm..."

"Straight. I know. But you're also good company. I've had a wonderful evening and enjoyed every minute of it. Thank you."

Poppy leaned across and their lips met. The kiss was brief, gentle, and surprisingly pleasant.

"Goodnight, Mary Cherry," Poppy said, already climbing out of the absurdly large vehicle.

"Goodnight," Mary Cherry replied, not quite believing what had just happened, "and take care, you'all."

For some girls, she now knew, the choice was not always a prince. This night Mary Cherry had been a princess. And, to her surprise, she had liked it. Perhaps, she thought, just perhaps, this fish didn't need a bicycle after all!