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The Portrait Of Darlene Grey (Man Into Supermodel) free porn video
The Portrait Of Darlene Grey(Man Into Supermodel)
by Cabinessence.
Some say that a picture is worth a thousand words. To Jim Davenport, the
right picture could be worth a thousand dollars, sometimes even more. His
job was to be a photographer, one of those wandering paraparatzi, trying to
ensnare the rich and famous into the web of his lens. Yet he was also a
throwback to another era when you could call a woman a dame and pinch her
fanny and not worry about having to hire a lawyer afterwards. His first big
assignment was doing publicity shots for Frank Sinatra back in the late sixties
in Vegas. He helped chronicle the latter days of the Rat Pack until he made
the mistake of taking a picture of Dean Martin sober. He then drifted into
fashion photography until he realized he liked taking photos of women
without their clothes on better. As time went on, it wasn't that much of
stretch to move from Swank and Nugget to the Star and Enquirer, just from
one end of the sleaze spectrum to the other. But now he was in his late fifties
and still hoping for that one last big score before the faculties that he had
trusted for so long would begin to fail him.
As a photographer for the tabloids, he'd had his share of big scoops before,
such as showing Michael Jackson starting to grow breasts to be able to nurse
his newborn baby to catching Cindy Crawford during an infamous gerbil run
for then husband Richard Gere. But, his favorite passion was following the
supermodels and those that stood to gain from their power as they made their
trip down the runways of life. Hell he'd blown more than one hard drive
trying to create a database cataloguing the results of runway catfights, their
various lovers, and their favorite tryst locations.
Sometimes they'd elude him, but somehow he'd always manage to get that
great candid shot that would command the highest dollar on the market. The
more embarassing it was to them, the better. His work had been featured in
the Star, the Enquirer, well actually any paper or magazine that was worth its
shelf space in the supermarket checkout aisle. With most of the models he
followed them so closely that he seemed to them more like a second skin with
a flash attachment. He had managed to take so many pictures of Claudia
Schiffer nude that he could have created a road map pointing out every single
freckle.
One night he was alone at his office, which also doubled as his apartment for
tax reasons, when a tipster phoned in. He'd gotten calls like this before and
he knew what the right questions were to ask to see if it would pan out.
"Jim Davenport?"
"Speaking."
"I have got a hot tip that Frank Stewart is going to meet Darlene Grey at her
mansion tonight around eleven o'clock for some hot hanky panky."
"Look that guy's one of the hottest new young actors around. That last movie
of his "Mr. Green Jeans Returns", grossed over 100 mil. He could have any
hot babe on the planet. Why would he want to try to screw a woman about
the age of his mother?'
"Did you see her Playboy layout last month? How many mothers do you
know who still have a body like that? My sources say that he has those
pictures pasted all over the walls of his trailer over on the set of his new
movie "Frankestein' s Accountant" and he's trying to get her signed for his
next flick, a romantic comedy-tragedy called "The Love Boat Sinks". Besides
he likes older women, hey you caught him at Cannes with Cheryl Tieghs last
year."
"Yeah but that's what the beautiful people do at Cannes, slobber all over each
other just for the publicity. The has beens hang out with the new up and
commers in some vain attempt to prove they are still relevant. It didn't seem
to mean much more to me than a one night publicity stunt."
"Well what have you got to lose? Got any other plans for this evening? Given
up trying to catch Farrah Fawcett sniffing turpentine after one of her painting
sessions? Hey you don't even have anything on your schedule until the press
conference on Tuesday afternoon for Kate Moss's new book "The
Anorexic's Cookbook". I hear they've even hired Blood, Sweat and Tears to
do a new version of Spinning Wheel. This time they sing what goes down,
must come up. "
"How did you know all that?"
"Let us just say I too have my sources too. Goodnight Mr. Davenport."
"Uhh good night."
Jim sat there wondering if he should pursue the tip. He connected his laptop
to the modem and called up the database on Darlene Grey over at National
Betrayer magazine. Hopefully Jennifer hadn't changed her password since
the last time he had slept with her. She hadn't, and he was able to get right in.
He looked at the file on Darlene Grey. She had an active, if not illustrious
film career. She was of the Marilyn Monroe, Mamie Van Doren, Jayne
Mansfield school, as if any of those bimbos had actually made it through
school. She had made her film debut in the late sixties spy sex farce "Agent
6.98, Marked Down From 007" starring singer Steve Martin and Alan Rossi,
the "Who Dere?" comedian with the brillo pad hairdo. Then in the seventies
she drifted into exploitation flicks like "High School Harlots", "The Dream
Eaters: Feast And Fantasy", "The Dream Eaters II: Prepare To Diet", and
"Rock and Roll Machete Massacre." The last entry was the shelved Vincent
Price Gulf War comeback vehicle "Doctor Goldfoot And The Bikini Cruise
Missiles". Then of course there was the Playboy spread.
Jim looked at her centerfold and thought they did a better airbrush job on her
then on their other over fifty year old model pictorials of Joey Heatherton,
Farrah Fawcett, and Nancy Sinatra. Hell on Nancy Sinatra he figured an
airbrush wasn't enough, they probably needed a sand blaster. He then looked
further into Darlene's past. There didn't seem to be much about her before
1965, other than the usual studio press biography babble. Born July 5, 1946
in Cruppsville, Ohio and came to Hollywood after being named Miss Apple
Pie Of Central Ohio, 1964. Not great credentials, but who needed them with
tits like those. She was then discovered, as legend has it, at the LA bus depot
by Jacques Brandt who soon became her agent as well as her occasional
lover. Jim found a picture of them together in the file and thought the guy
looked familiar. Where had he seen him before?
Jim grabbed his own files of clippings from inside his desk and it suddenly
came to him, Victoria Loveton. He had done research on an article on Victoria
Loveton about two years ago for People magazine. She was a very beautiful
movie actress from the forties and early fifties who just seemed to completely
vanish into thin air sometime around 1964, 65. As he pulled out the picture,
she looked like a wet dream out of another period of American history. She
had teased platinum blonde hair circling her innocent yet naughty face, a tight
white dress leaving little to the imagination. She was supposed to be the next
Jean Harlow, but American filmgoers decided they wanted something
different. Standing next to her was a man who looked a lot like Jacques
Brandt. The hair was styled differently, he looked a little heavier, but the
resemblance was uncanny. But this picture was taken in the early fifties, Jim
thought, so he would have had to been about ten then. Maybe this man was
his father, even though their last names were different. Well what did that
matter? Hell this was Hollywood where people changed their name at will to
go with their lifestyle or mood.
Jim looked at his watch and it was a bit past ten. He'd have to hurry to get
over to Darlene's mini-estate in time and find a suitable place to be
inconspicuous. He arrived about ten minutes early and soon found an area
that gave him a good view of both the doorway and the driveway. With the
fence surrounding most of the property there was no way that Frank Stewart
could make it inside without Jim getting off at least one good shot. He went
through his bag of attachments and started putting the proper lens onto the
front of the camera. Once a model he was shooting saw all the lenses he had
put on his camera and said that it looked like the camera had a hard on. He
had replied only for you dear and then took her picture and soon the camera
wasn't the only thing with a hard on as he got her into bed after the session
ended. Jim was so lost in this fond memory that he didn't notice someone
coming up behind him.
"Hello Mr. Davenport, I am so glad that you could come."
The voice seemed familiar, it was the tipster. Jim got up and turned around to
find Jacques Brandt standing beside him.
"So you placed the call. I should have known. So am I just a pawn in some
cheap publicity stunt? I'll bet that Frank Stewart was never planning to come
here."
"You are right on that account Mr. Davenport, that was a hoax. But I will
guarantee you that you won't be disappointed. It is just that if I told you the
real reason that I wanted you to come here, you probably would have said
that I was mad. But what I will say is that Darlene Grey is still about to give
you the exclusive of your life. Come along with me."
Figuring that he had everything to gain and nothing to lose, hell the evening
was pretty much shot anyway, Jim followed Jacques into the mansion. This
mansion had a lot of history being previously owned by such Hollywood
legends as Zazu Pitts and Sonny Tufts. Darlene Grey had bought it in the mid
seventies at the height of her "B" movie career. If these walls could only talk,
Jim thought, then I'd have a story for the Weekly World News.
Jim was shown into a drawing room that led into Darlene's bedroom. He
took a peak inside the bedroom and noticed it was very feminine, done in
lush pinks with a comforter of hearts on the bed and vases of pink roses on
every table.
" Darlene will be with you in a moment. Make yourself comfortable, please."
Jim sat down on a plush velvet armchair and soaked up the aura of femininity
surrounding him. Soon the object of the aura slinked sexily into the room.
Jim had expected to see a more mature version of this one time sex kitten
come through the door, but she didn't look a day over twenty five. Her
naughty but angelic face showed no lines or wrinkles and her large firm
breasts, so prominently displayed, were like finely tanned china. As she
walked closer to him, he thought to himself, no plastic surgeon is that good.
She was wearing a dress that could serve only one purpose, seduction. Well
if that's what she wanted, well who was he to argue. He started to rise in
many different ways.
"Mr. Davenport how nice of you to come."
"Well I haven't yet, no, sorry, I mean I am happy to be here. Your manager
said that you had something important to tell me."
"Look at me."
"Hey, that's all I've been doing since you walked into the room."
"I don't look like a fifty year old woman to you do I?"
"No, certainly not like any of the one's I've dated."
"Seeing me you probably would have guessed I was in my mid twenties. The
actual truth is that I haven't aged in over thirty years."
"Lady you look great, but that explanation sounds a bit wacko."
"No, it's the truth. Jacques, Mr. Brandt, he has found a way to stop the
aging process and I want to share it with you. I want to let my secret out to
the whole world so he won't have anything left to hold against me."
"So why am I so deserving of this honor, couldn't you have called some
Elvis spotters with time on their hands or maybe I should call that guy from
the X-files to join us?"
"Very funny. I chose you because I have noticed in many of your layouts you
treat women as a work of sensual art. You seem to understand them, and I
thought you could understand me, and help me with my problem. You are
sympathetic enough to be able to show the woman beneath the surface. I see
in your work that you feel that true beauty is more than sex, it's deeper. And
it is with that understanding I figured that maybe you could help me. "
"I hate to burst your bubble, toots, but the only reason I have photographed
women as so called art is that it is easier to sell that kind of photo to a
reputable high paying magazine than it is a crotch and boob shot. The only
surface I like to get beneath with a woman is the covers of a bed."
"Still will you take some photographs of me? I will consider it an honor and it
will help illustrate the aging story I am about to give you."
"Sure, if this story pans out, the pictures would help sell it. But right now if I
took your photo no one would believe the results. They'd think I did it with
some kind of digital hocus pocus."
"Well I would be there to help support your claim. But besides the magazine
photos, I also really want you to take a sexy photograph of myself to hang up
in the study. All the portraits that Jacques has in there now are so hideous and
freaky. The worst is this picture of a middle-aged man dressed in one of my
best evening gowns. I keep begging him to take it down, so I could put up
one of myself that would bring some kind of beauty to the room. But of
course he won't let me do it."
"So you feel if I take this great artsy fartsy sexy picture of you, Mr. Smoothie
out there will take down the picture of the freak."
Darlene started to move closer to Jim until her cleavage was inches from his
mouth.
"I want you to help me guarantee it. I want you to destroy the painting for me
so that he will no longer have a choice."
"Why don't you do it?"
"With that big frame, it is much too heavy for poor little ol me. Please. Do it
and I will promise you not only the secret of everlasting youth, but a night of
everlasting passion."
She then kissed him deeply on the lips.
"I must say that that is that that sounds like a more believable and tempting
offer, but wouldn't your manager hear what's going on in there."
"Oh Jacques, he can't bear knowing that I am alone with another man. He's
probably gone back to his office to do some paperwork. Why do men find
paperwork so fascinating?"
"Because it's easier to understand than a woman. So where is this painting
located?"
"It's down the steps and go in the door to your right. You can't miss the
painting, it is right next to his other freaky picture of a skeleton in a suit. But
at least he keeps that one hidden most of the time. "
"Should I destroy that one too?"
"No, you couldn't. That's his favorite. He keeps it very well protected. He
would just die if something happened to his precious painting. Well before
you go here is a little bit more motivation."
She kissed him again and fondled his penis through his pants. When she
released him, Jim staggered a bit and proceeded on down the steps. The
study was easy to find, as were the two portraits. One thing, he thought, this
guys does have bizarre tastes in art. The picture in question was of a
handsome middle aged man who seemed to be surprised to be in a ripped
slinky gown. The frame was heavy, but Jim managed to get it down from the
wall. He then took his Swiss Army knife from out of his pocket. It was a gift
from Dean Martin who gave it to him so that he'd be sure that someone
nearby would always have a corkscrew. He took out the blade and started to
rip up the painting. As the canvas started to tear, he heard a man's scream
coming from upstairs. He ran into the hall and saw a man who looked like the
guy in the painting running down the steps wearing the dress Darlene had on
a moment ago. The guy was soon out the door. Jim tried to follow, but was
stopped by Jacques Brandt.
"I guess you are wondering why you just saw a middle aged man running
down the hall screaming wearing Darlene's dress."
"No shit Shirlock, what in the hell is going on? What happened to Darlene?"
"She or should I say he, just ran out the door. You see that portrait you
destroyed that was of the real Darlene Grey. A former gigolo, you would
say, who preyed upon aging starlets in exchange for sexual favors. He was a
favorite of Vivian Leigh when she was going through her mental problems
and occasional flare ups of nymphomania in the late fifties. I trapped him
with Victoria Loveton, the same way I did with you and Darlene. Yes, I also
was Victoria's agent from 1939 to 1964. That's me in those pictures with
Victoria, not my father as you may have already guessed. I only made a few
superficial cosmetic changes in assuming my new identity."
"But how?"
"It's like this. I found a secret that allowed me to exchange the image of
someone on canvas with that of someone in real life. Since the image of a
painting would never age, neither would they. As long as the painting was
intact they would remain the person that I had painted. However their image
in the painting would age and eventually die. It was a secret given to me from
a fellow artesian who discovered it among a tribe in Papua Papua New
Guinea around 1925. They used a special pigment that when mixed with the
blood of the victim would change the one selected into whatever image the
pigment was used to portray. They used it to transform wayward boys into
hideous creatures to help keep the villagers in line. My friend traded some
trinkets of modern civilization for a jug of this pigment. He was too afraid to
try it himself so he left it to me to experiment. I found mixing a little with our
modern acrylics went a long way. First I changed a dog into a chicken. Then
I decided to try it on a human."
He then uncovered a portrait of a skeleton dressed in the outfit of a turn of the
century playboy.
"Yes I tried it first out on myself. I was a homely youth and not very popular
with the women so I painted a picture based on many of the playboys that I
found hanging out around Monte Carlo. As you see I became quite the dapper
man about town. But unlike Darlene, I can never go home again to be what I
was. In my picture I am already dead. If it gets destroyed, so do I. That's
why I have encased it in bulletproof plastic."
"So why did you let your plaything escape? You don't look like the kind of
guy who is into balding fifty year old men."
"Quite right, Mr. Davenport. I like having young beautiful women around
me, especially those who attract a great deal of media attention. It's good for
the ego. In today's world, as you very well know, it is not who you are, but
who you are fucking at the time that determines the measure of a man. The
Playboy layout didn't do what I hoped it would for Darlene's career , so I let
her go free. That was her last gasp to regain the spotlight. I usually keep my
women around for twenty years or so. At first they are the fresh new starlet
on every magazine cover. Then time makes way for the next hot thing. Then
in about twenty years you are hot again as a nostalgia item. Even those things
we hate become nostalgic warm and fuzzies twenty years later. Did anyone
ever imagine that people would ever like KC and the Sunshine Band again.
But I soon realized that Darlene's second shot was over, so I have had to find
myself a new protegee and lover. And here she is."
He then unveiled a painting of a woman in a white bikini. She looked like she
was in her late teens. Long golden hair, lightly tanned skin, full but not too
large breasts, a body to sell your soul for with a face who's confident smile
said "I'm worth it."
"Who's that?" Jim asked.
"You, or it will be shortly."
Jim turned and tried to escape but he felt something sting his legs and they
refused to move.
"Don't worry, it may be my brushstrokes on the canvas, but it is all your
handiwork up there. I used a special morphing package on my computer to
create the ultimate supermodel from your very own photographs. I did have
to eliminate, however, the ones with large moles like Cindy Crawford and
Nikki Taylor. Morphing them together I got a face that looked like a connect
the dots book."
"But why me??"
"Why you Mr. Davenport. It should be quite obvious. You are known as the
supermodel expert. You know their habits, their secrets, their world. You
slept with enough of them to know how they like to make love. You know
how they think, whenever they happen to do it. What better way to apply that
knowledge than to become this gorgeous creature you see here? I have on CD
ROM all the knowledge one needs to be a woman, but what I couldn't get the
insight into what makes a supermodel tick. That is what I am going to get
from you, Mr. Davenport. Don't get upset, you will be quite beautiful. You
see I even have included some of Claudia Shiffer's freckles."
"I'm flattered, but you have got the wrong man. I can get you the numbers of
some of the greatest fashion photographers in the business. Some of them are
even gay, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind becoming a beautiful woman like
this."
"That quite generous of you, but now that you know my secret, I can't let
you go. At least not as you are right now."
"So why didn't you do it with women?"
"First I didn't need to. I had plenty of women in my new form. But it was
only because I was the new cock on the block and they didn't stay around
long. But I wanted to have complete control over them. I wanted to be the
one to tell them to leave. So then I transformed some of the most wretched
looking hags into bewitching nymphets. But they rarely did they stay around
long also. A few months later and these newly etched beauties would become
drunk with the adoration of other handsome gentlemen around them. Who
could blame them? After a life of being ignored and invisible to this type of
man they were suddenly the center of attention. My threats to change them
back by destroying their painting meant nothing to them. Being the romantic
dolts that I find most women to be, they felt these men would still love them
no matter what they looked like. Fools!! After I destroyed the paintings they
went back to being the loneliest scum of the earth. They didn't last five
minutes with these men after they had changed back. I felt I needed more of a
threat to keep my women in line. That is when I decided to do it with men."
"How could figure you control men any better?"
"Easy, by taking away the one symbol of power that men value more than
anything. That is the power of the penis. You will soon find out how
powerful it is when you find it growing and sliding in and out of you. And it
will happen, whether that penis will be mine or owned by of the many men I
feel it would be beneficial to your career to sleep with. You will sense the
feelings of weakness and wetness it gives you as it's rhythm takes control.
The powerlessness that will overtake you as you wind your way to orgasm.
You will feel the horror of the knowledge of how this act alone can trigger the
creation of new life inside your being and it will become all more distasteful
because in the back of your mind you will always remember how you once
had this power. I find the irony in all this is that the true power of the penis is
measured only by the beauty of the women it attracts. That is why I needed
you to become my companion and the true symbol of beauty in today's
culture, the supermodel."
"For how long?"
"Well if you will be a nice girl and do what I say, I may let you become a
man again someday like I did Darlene. All you have to do is destroy the
portrait. Then you may have this power back again. "
"And if I am not a nice girl and don't do what you say."
"Let's say that there are a lot of other playboys out there who would not be as
nice to you as me. And I don't believe you want to live out your wretched
existence as some eternal twenty one year old blonde fuck bunny, now would
you?"
"What if I kill myself?"
"Don't you get it, you are going to be one now with the painting. Can you
kill the Mona Lisa? As long as it exists, you cannot be destroyed. If you
injure yourself, you will immediately heal. You will never be ill. But the
painting will never be destroyed unless I let it."
"But I don't know the first thing on how to be a woman. I can never live up
to your expectations."
"As I said I have a CD ROM which has on it all the knowledge you will need
to know on how to be a woman. It has makeup tips, how to use a tampon,
how to put on woman's underwear, how to use body language, how to deal
with PMS, and a synopsis of every episode of Ally McBeal. Everything you
need, along with your own insights of course, to be a convincing modern
woman and a popular supermodel. And it was only $9.99 from
www.madscientist.com."
Jim turned around to see a computer and next to it a helmet with wires
running from it.
"That computer will transfer all that knowledge into your brain. I have even
made up a fictional past that you will believe to be your own that I have
recorded on this other disk. Soon you will not be able to tell what is real and
what is Memorex. You will know soon what it is to be a 21 year old woman
who just arrived from Finland who's only desire is to become the top
supermodel in the world and I will be your German agent. But first let's take
care of your body shall we?"
Jacques took a paintbrush and painted a little bit more of a tan line on the skin
of the woman in the picture. He then took Jim's knife and cut him on the
hand. Then he took the paintbrush and mingled the paint with the slow trickle
of Jim's blood. Soon the bits of pigment seem to start to make their way into
Jim's bloodstream. As they did a glow surrounded Jim transforming him into
the image in the picture. Not only was Jim becoming a blonde beauty with
full breasts and abundant curves, but the image in the picture was quickly
becoming that of an anguished fifty year old man in a string bikini. The
whole transformation took about two minutes and soon there was a future
supermodel standing there in the baggy clothes of a fifty year old man.
"I don't think the grunge look is still in Ingrid. But no matter I have a much
more fitting wardrobe awaiting you upstairs."
"Who is? What have you done to me?" said Jim in a higher voice as he ripped
off his shirt to see his newly formed breasts bounce in front of him.
"Only what I said I would. You are now one of the most beautiful models in
the world. Soon you will be able to suck the cock of any rock star you
choose. Well if I let you, that is. But enough questions, it is time for you to
get to know all the answers."
Jacques took the helmet attached to the computer and put in on Jim's head.
He then went over to the computer and clicked on some panels. Jim's head
started to shake as his expression went from rage to one of quiet contentment.
When Jim's head stopped shaking, Jacques removed the helmet. Jim shook
her head and stared sweetly at him.
"Do you know who you are now?"
"Ya, I do. I am Ingrid Ullstern."
"And who am I?"
"You are Dieter Scherr, my agent. What are all of these questions for, are you
being silly again my leibchen?" she giggled.
"No, no. Just checking. Now why don't you go upstairs and change into
something a bit more appropriate for an evening of amore."
Ingrid started to turn to go upstairs and saw the picture of a fifty year old man
in a bikini and started to scream.
"Don't worry dear, I will make sure that this bad painting never bothers you
again." And Jacques covered it over with a sheet as Ingrid made her way
upstairs with the same elegance that she would soon show on the runway.
Six Months Later
Ingrid has been named the new face of 1998. As she strolls down the runway
in the newest Versace swimsuit, Dieter, his hair newly blonde, is talking to a
fashion reporter.
"Where did you find her?"
"She was a waitress in a small tavern in Northern Finland. Don't bother with
the name, the people who live there can't spell it either. My first thought how
could a woman this hot ever come from a place so cold? I spotted the
potential immediately. "
"Well the camera certainly loves her."
"Well I am certain that the feeling is mutual."
"She is such a natural. It's like she has been around cameras all her life."
"You could say that, ya."
"I must say Mr. Scherr that you have created a new superstar. She is truly a
work of art."
"You could say that again. I mean that was my plan all along." Dieter
laughed.
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