The Trojan Diaper

[smarti]

The Trojan Diaper

“I am your Dark Svengali, as you’ve known me, Sven”, said the Man who held his hand out to shake with Allie, who was a little uncertain. “So we meet at last. And may I say you are considerably more attractive than your pictures would indicate.”

Allie blushed. The man was in his forties, in good shape, exuding power and confidence. “It’s such a coincidence that I should get to know you in both your, uh, personas – and you me of course.”

It seems unreal, thought Allie, he has come into my life like a genie. I kind of believe him. Heck yeah. He’s the guy to get us out of this dull waitress job.

“It’s kind of strange to meet you at last Sven,” said Allie as she shook, “and I’m looking forward to reading your plan.”

“Well,” said Sven as they sat down, “here it is.” And he handed her a plastic folder.

She read it quickly and her nostrils flared, she felt a huge surge of fear and anticipation, but a really pleasant glow, and a will that the plan would succeed.

Suddenly, her mobile phone rang. It was the modeling agency. He watched, as Allie was told to report to the studio in 15 minutes. Allie was crestfallen as she made profuse apologies for having to dash, and they swapped mobile numbers.

“Dinner tonight at Spago’s” were his last words.

===

For the first three years the plan worked beautifully, as Sven, with his connections in the media, and experience in the modeling industry, quickly established Allie as a fast-rising modeling star. That was Alexandra McDowell, thank you very much, and they amassed a huge clipping file of double page spreads in Vogue, Paris Match, and the cover of Cosmo. Cash poured in and Sven was perfectly punctilious in sharing it all out. Allie was in heaven, hob-nobbing with celebrities and attracting approaches from major fashion houses. Sven was also careful to avoid tabloid sniffers, kept up a wholesome diet of activities, because they would get their meat later.

Phase B went straight into operation, codenamed Blooming Romance – an egregiously wealthy old man besotted with Allie’s media image, a lovely fellow and owner of The Flying Banana, 68’ ketch with all the amenities and comforts he could afford.

There were Sven, Ron and Allie relaxing with drinks (Allie lime juice), just three days after Allie had signed on the invitations to Ralph Lauren and Chanel. They managed to get him separate from servants and other guests chatting in other parts of the boat. They dared not show him the plan, of course, but politely told him that Sven was Allie’s “other.” Which was true enough in its own way.. He looked strangely puzzled. Thought about it for 5 minutes, and then just laughed out loud. “But you must stay on the Banana”, he said. And to his eternal unknowing credit for the rest of two weeks stuck very close to Allie with Sven maintaining a discreet distance plundering the bar for cocktails. Allie was wearing her favorite Anna Sui. Basking on the poop deck of the yacht in pleasant conversation with Ron, attracting reproving glances from people who knew his exes. Sven had made personally sure that Mick from the Daily Mail was in the entourage, and that he was equipped with a zoom quick-shutter 6Mpx mobile phone. And he made sure he got the last ex.

The result was a huge splash all over the Mail (of course), and the gossip mags OK and Hello. This was a nervous time, as Sven fended off comment with the statement that there was no attachment on Allie’s part, which they swallowed well enough. Ron took it with good grace, and persisted in inviting Allie to his mansion. Sven was a bit more protective here, but Ron and Sven got on well, but he was just another friend.

Now they had Lagerfeld and all the other majors on their circuit, and found themselves as little fodder items in the Sun, which they had hardly dared hope for as phase C (Celebrity) of the plan, and it was dizzying and nerve-wracking. But Sven and Allie were able to finally start spending money in their own seclusion.

It was time for Phase D. Or was it?

“The first thing I want to say,” started Sven, is that we agreed it was possible to terminate the Plan right here. To me it is either here nor there, but it is your whole life. There are so many unknowns in this phase that I completely respect your decision not to do it.”

“You are right to warn me and I thank you for your lack of pressure. I haven’t decided yet myself. To take all our riches now and risk them. But perhaps we would not have had these riches without the Plan. I feel inclined to follow the Plan. At the same time I will wait another year maybe,” said Allie.

That was a shrewd option as Alexandra McDowell became the “it” girl for 2009 and her stock as a supermodel increased enormously, and the time was properly ripe for the maximum impact of the final phase.

====================================

“No Battle Plan survives first contact with the Enemy”, mused Sven as he put the final touches to the Event preparations. “Can’t cancel this now, a lot of expectant invitees.”

The Apocalypse, as Allie thought of it, was in train at last. And she walked uncertainly to the dressing room. She amused herself think about what she was about to wear on the catwalk that night was not: Not flowing gowns, not sexy jeans, or not even lingerie or night-wear.

It was codly odd, this event, all the usual media were there, with a tip from Sven that something “major” would happen, but no “name” designer, only the relatively obscure Total Babe Fashions company (registered in the Caymans by Sven). They were however satisfied with the Allie’s coup of gaining at least one model of her stature to share the catwalk duties. The rest were really rather inexperienced!

The catwalk remained empty as guests filled their seats and became expectant. Bland electro dance music played.

And Allie put first foot forward into the expectant gaze. There were gasps of surprise, and camera flashes went on in profusion. And she walked forward and briskly to the end, and turned around and walked back.

Sandy, Allie’s friend came next. More gasps, more flashbulbs. Model #3 walked in and out, followed by #4. There was uproar, and a couple of people plain walked out in disgust. Sven saw it was time for sub-plan x, and cranked up the pace to get the show doggedly finished, by having them sprint to the first corner and back.

People were out of their seats and jabbering wildly, only Mick from the Mail sat with a bemused expression on his face, shaking his head and laughing. Sven approached him, hopefully.

“I always wondered why you two were so cagey. And all that weird business with Ron.” He shook his head again and laughed.

“How do you think it’ll go, Mick?”

“Sheesh! If I were you I’d disconnect the phone tomorrow. And expect something ugly.”

“Not you surely…”

Mick pondered for a while, and then said, “I’d give you a fair crack of the whip. In an exclusive interview.”

Sven looked relieved. “The normal…”

“Oh, I’d rate this at a minimal 200k”. They shook hands and Sven led him off for the interview.

===

The next morning, Allie and Sven lay in bed looking at the papers.

The Sun (front, full page)

Allie McD in Bizarre Baby Show

(A not unflattering shot, but emphasised the diapers)

The Daily Mirror (front, in panel next to big Iraq story)

Sexy Allie swaps Knickers for Nappies

The Daily Express (page 6, with stock photo of Allie)

Givenchy drop Alexandra McDowell; Lagerfeld: Allie’s OK

The Independent (front, under the fold, no pic)

Supermodels in fetish fashion furore

The Guardian, (front, overhead panel leading to story in G2)

Madonna: “Allie is cool”

The Daily Mail

Allie: “I’m just being myself”

Exclusive to the Mail by Michael Neville

Which was illustrated with shots of Allie in her nursery

MN: What is this all about?

AM: We wanted to highlight a group of people who are sad and lonely in our society.

MN: These Adult Babies.

AM: Yes. Well, I am an Adult Baby.

MN: And what do you mean by that?

AM: I like wearing nappies and dressing like a baby.

MN: Do you think people might find this sick and perverted?

AM: We’d like people to look past such labels and look at the harm we actually do, which is very little beyond the odd nappy rash.

MN: Some may think you are paedophiles.

AM: Absolutely not. Only consenting adults doing nothing illegal.

MN: But what about the nappies? (AM is wearing a nappy right now, but dressed normally)

AM: Thousands of people have to wear them everyday for medical reasons. Nappies are an underwear choice.

MN: Are you worried about your reputation.

AM: Well, I still love proper modeling, and we’ve had lots of reassurance from our true friends in the industry.

MN: And all the best to you. Thank you very much, supermodel Alexandra McDowell.

That night at Allie’s and Sven’s nursery, they felt strange playing together, Sven, better known as Daddy tenderly diapering the lady he had first known as nappygirlallie, as they had done since that first night at Spago’s. Now the world knew their secret and it had to do some good, somewhere.

…to be continued

[the diaper mike]

more plz

[Army_Baby1]

Oh my, I love it I know that there has not been more but I love the story and had to say something about how it was so great to me.

Army Baby

[smarti]

Oh my, I love it I know that there has not been more but I love the story and had to say something about how it was so great to me.

Army Baby

Thanks Army, it could be expanded with sufficient interest.

[Frink]

Haven't read this yet; but I expect to enjoy it as I too am fascinated by the Peloponnesian War.

[maly]

Haven't read this yet; but I expect to enjoy it as I too am fascinated by the Peloponnesian War.

lol Frink But other than the title no mention of Sparta or Athens!

Great story Smarti keep it coming!(so to speak)

Mal.