Calendar Girl - TG Caption

Deke opens the door into the dirty little ramshackle room that serves as his office. Sitting back in an old creaky chair, he wipes greasy hands with a slightly less greasy rag and his eyes fall on an ancient calendar, or more specifically on the blonde bombshell gracing the month of May, 1955. Look at those curves, he thinks. They really knew how to build 'em back in the day. As he settles back for a little on the job R&R, Deke closes his eyes and dreams.

“He-ya doll face. You still with us? Someone want ta get a glass of water over here already?”

“Oowww, what happened?" Deke asks, voice sounding all wrong to his ears, far too high and squeaky. 

“Don’t know. Maybe those tight clothes cut off the blood flow to your brain? I know they’re doing something to my blood flow. Now come on, time to quit being lazy. We gotta photo-shoot to finish, and I need my star girl.”

Deke is 'helped' unceremoniously to her feet, taking the chance to gaze at her surroundings. There are cameras, shiny antique cars, and none of that matters because holy crap she has boobs! Really big boobs in a tight white and red shirt! Peeking around them she can just make out the equally red skirt draping over what feels like a truly enormous ass. Distracted by the view, she's surprised by a pinch on her tiny waist and lets out another high pitched "Eeeek!" from her full, red lips. 

“Come on, come on we don’t got all day!”

What a jackass, Deke thinks to herself even as a strange stiffening occurs at the peaks of her great chest mountains, making her want to squirm. This draws her attention to the multi-layers of tight, body-conforming torture devices just below the surface of her outer clothing. Something bra-like molds her massive breasts into two rounded domes, before continuing downward to squeeze her waist into the ridiculously shape of a 1950s pinup girl. Despite being swaddled in layers of support, everything jiggles and quakes distractingly as she is moved into location for the next shot. 

That’s how she finds herself in a familiar position standing in front of an antique blue car, chest thrust forward and big butt jutting back with a short red skirt showing off miles of smooth, sexy leg for the camera, and all the world to see. She knew this car. She knew these tight clothes and she definitely knew the ridiculous, curvy blonde body poured into them. This was from the picture in Deke’s office. She didn’t know how and she didn’t know why, but she was in the body of the bombshell calendar girl. 

“All right girlie, time to earn those clams. Let’s see that pretty smile!”

The camera flashes and Deke feels a little thrill. Another flash brings another quick bubble of joy, then another and another. The fake smile frozen on her face blooms into something genuine. They...all want to see her. Every new posture elicits another reaction from the photographer as he encourages her into ever more risqué positions. Her over-stuffed clothes threatening to burst at their seams only adds to the excitement she can't deny.

At the end of the day, the increasingly handsome photographer stands close and wraps an arm warmly around her corseted waist. 

"They asked me for an exciting spread and that's exactly what they're gonna get.  And you’ve got me plenty excited too doll. Let’s say you and I continue the evening in a more…private setting?" 

Deke looks up into his dark eyes, the unrestrained desire there a reflection of her own. She doesn’t worry about the boring job and life that are fading into the background. She doesn’t worry about the fact that this 'dream' has gone on for hours with no sign of stopping. Reaching out, she places a tiny hand on the manly chest in front of her, so different from her own, and says “Yes.”