SpiralledEye
patreon
Montana Rockwood in Amorous Atlantis - Part 5
🕑 Added 2025-08-02 21:00:06 +0000 UTCIn the 1930s, Hudson Rockwood is a jet-setting archeologist hot on the trail of Atlantis. But when a mysterious snake cult curses him, he discovers that being a roguish adventurer is a lot harder when you're a woman. Having no other choice, he and his journalist best friend, Frank, must travel the globe to find Atlantis, break the curse, and stop the cult, all while trying to figure out how to run in high heels.
~
Chapter 5 - Into the Sunset
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at this.”
Frank held out the notebook and flicked on his flashlight to illuminate the pages. There were diagrams, pictographs and notes, copious notes on everything from translating the Antlantian language. It was fascinating, with this book, he could discover all of Atlantis’ history, all its secrets; they could fill a museum with his discoveries. Then, the notes took a new turn when he discovered the transformation magic.
“He wants to make himself…king of Atlantis?” Hudson frowned. “But there is nobody here to rule!”
“That’s where the magic comes in,” Frank whispered, turning the page. “Everybody knows tensions in Europe are rising. He plans to make this place a safe haven from the war when it inevitably breaks out. People will flock here…”
“And he’ll turn them into his own personal harem…” Hudson gaped. “It’s said the keystone controls the snakes that make the women…”
There was another sketch, a stone just like the one that had transformed him. Only it was engraved with a royal cobra.
“The snakes within? What does that mean?” Frank asked.
Hudson’s brow furrowed, “When I was changed, there was a metal snake coiled around the stone, it leapt at me, I closed my eyes and then it was gone, I think…I think that’s what caused the transformation. There is a snake inside me that made me a woman.”
“And if Jaques gets his hands on that keystone, he’ll be able to control you?”
“And anybody else whom he transforms. He really will make himself king. Imagine seeing this magic and only thinking so...selfishly!”
“I think you mean ambitiously.”
Shit. Maybe they hadn’t been whispering as quietly as they thought. Hudson looked up to find a familiar, but unwelcome sight: the barrel of a gun.
“I’ll be taking that back now.” Jaques smiled. “My power is dry after a few hours ashore, so I think you’ll find that knife quite useless, Frank.”
Frank sneered and gripped the handle of the knife at his hip anyway. Hudson gently placed a hand on his arm; it wasn't worth the risk.
“You’re not here for history, you’re here for that…weird pendant thing!” Hudson sneered.
“And what, I suppose you’ll say something like it belongs in a museum? Fool. I am not going to let something that powerful gather dust.” Jaques cocked the gun, “Interesting to learn you were a victim of the magic, though, perhaps I will keep you alive and part of my personal harem when I find the stone, hm?”
Hudson’s stomach churned. Jaques was delusional; he couldn't believe he'd found him charming, maybe even attractive. That stone, that keystone, it wasn’t just history. It was a weapon. A weapon that could turn everything upside down.
Frank’s voice was low but firm. “You’ll never get your hands on that stone, Jaques. And you won't hurt Montana. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Jaques opened his mouth to say something, but he never got the chance because Frank launched himself at him; gun be damned. Hudson sprang back, book clutched against his chest as he watched the two men fall to the ground and roll, struggling over the gun. It went off, a bullet embedding in the wall.
Hudson was frozen, watching the two men fight. If he dove in, he could set the gun off, do more harm than good, but he couldn’t just stand here! He had to think of something! Frank got both hands on the muzzle and wrenched it from Jaques' grip; Hudson couldn't help but cheer.
“Yes!”
He aimed, only for a whip to appear out of nowhere and smack the weapon away.
“The hell-?” Frank blinked in surprise when a second whip wrapped itself around his wrist.
In the doorway were three familiar clad cultists, masks covering their faces. Shit, how had they found them? No matter, they needed to get going.
“Frank!”
“Already on it!”
He ripped the whip from his wrist before it could pull taut and turned back to Hudson; the pair of them dashed down the corridor, into the twisting halls of Atlantis. Jaques yelled after them, only to get cut off as a whip twisted around his ankle, sending him tumbling to the ground. Hudson clutched his notebook to his chest and ran.
“Good riddance.”
Running from bad guys was basically Hudson’s second job. The cultists may have the advantage, knowing the area, but they made up for it with speed and silent teamwork. After about five minutes, the pursuing footsteps disappeared, and they came to a stop in a grand, empty hall.
Hudson leaned on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “That was a close one.”
He expected Frank to grin and make some comment about how this story better be worth it. Instead, he groaned. Hudson turned and felt his pace pale; the side of Frank’s shirt was stained red.
“Why didn’t you say you’d been hit?!” Hudson cried.
“Just a graze.”
“You’re bleeding, sit down.”
Hudson forced him onto the ground and ripped open his shirt; it really was just a graze, it was deep, bleeding badly, but it would heal. It probably could do with a stitch or two, but they would have to make do for now.
“You know, people might get the wrong idea seeing you rip my shirt off like that.” Frank chuckled, then winced.
“Shut up.”
“But you love our banter so much.”
“Not while you’re bleeding.”
“Aw, you’re worried about me.”
“Of course I am!”
Hudson stared right into Frank's eyes at that; he suddenly realised how close they were. Frank’s eyes flicked to Hudson’s lips, and he muttered;
“Are we going to talk about it?”
Hudson blinked, then slapped him. “Seriously?! Right now?”
“Why not?”
“I don't know, maybe because you’re bleeding from a bullet wound, we’re alone in an ancient city filled with Cultists and a psychopath who wants to make himself king?”
Hudson scrambled through his pack, grateful he’d thought to grab it as they fled. “Those are all very good reasons to talk about this later.”
Frank's hand came up to cup his face, gently.
“If you can’t talk about this stuff when you’re inches from death, when can you?”
“Inches from death…you’re being dramatic.”
“I’m a writer, that’s my job.”
Hudson snorted, then sighed.
“It’s all this…magic. Once I turn back into myself, we’ll both be so embarrassed.”
“Maybe…but I think I’d like it if we stayed this way.”
Hudson scoffed.
“We? I’m the one who all of a sudden is being treated like…well, a woman.”
“And you like it. Admit it. And you like me.”
Hudson’s face burned.
“I’ve always liked you.” He muttered, gathering the bandages and fixing Frank’s side. “Come on, we need to find that pendant. It belongs in a museum, not in the hands of a cult or Jaques.”
Frank grinned.
“You always have to play the hero, don't you?”
Hudson stood and offered him a hand. “Well, it makes for a good story.”
~
The more they read over Jaques' notes, the clearer his plan became. The keystone was supposedly kept in the central spire, the palace at the very top of Atlantis. Jaques had been slowly leading them that way ever since they landed, probably hoping to use them as fodder for any traps, then a distraction from the cultists.
As they made their way there, slowly, signs of life began to appear. This area of the city was still in good condition, and the traps became few and far between. Hudson even made to carefully reset the few they came across, just to cover their tracks. After a few hours, they spotted a group of cultists moving through a lower street.
Frank met Hudson’s eye and nodded. They followed the group into the central chamber as quietly as they could, sequestering themselves behind one of the Marble pillars that stretched toward a crystalline dome above, light filtering through the water outside to cast ripples across the white floor. At the room’s centre, on a raised pedestal, was the keystone, the one Jaques had sketched in his notebook. Black, framed by the metallic snake.
“There it is,” Hudson whispered.
“And there he is,” Frank added, nodding toward the far corner.
It was Jaques, Shackled, but far from beaten. His tailored shirt was torn at the collar, his hair tousled, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable. A few feet away, half a dozen robed cultists argued in hushed, fervent tones. One jabbed a finger toward the keystone. Another pointed at Jaques, his tone agitated. Now that they knew the history of Atlantis, the fact that all of them were women was so obvious. The way they stood, the way they held themselves, even the way their clothing fell.
“Seems like they’re trying to figure out what to do with him,” Frank muttered.
Jaques didn't look annoyed or scared. Hudson narrowed his eyes, slipping his vision down to his hands.
"He's picking the locks! He’s going to-”
Click.
The manacles fell off with a thunk, and Jaques didn’t wait. He sprinted.
“No, no, no!” Hudson hissed as he started to rise.
Frank yanked him back down. “We can’t let them see us!”
Across the room, the startled cultists jumped at the sound. They shouted, drawing their whips and daggers, but Jaques was too fast. He was moving with the speed only madmen with a singular purpose could. He reached the pedestal, and Hudson’s heart stopped.
Jaques placed both hands on the keystone. He lifted it above his head so that the black stone caught the light and a strange wave of…something, emanated from it. There was no flash, no great wave of energy, but Hudson felt something pass through his very being. Golden snakes coiled from the stone down Jaques' arms, and his eyes glowed a bright green. Hudson swayed on his feet just like the cultists before they all fell to their knees.
Jaques grinned and spoke, despite not raising his voice; Hudson could hear him clearly. It was almost as if he were whispering in his mind.
“You are mine now.”
The cultists dropped to one knee. Hudson’s stomach twisted; that snake inside him, the one that had transformed him, it compelled him to obey.
Frank swore under his breath. “That smug bastard.”
“Hello, Montana.” His voice rang through the chamber. “Why don’t you come join the others?”
Hudson shivered. Then his legs moved without him meaning to.
“No!” Frank grabbed his hand.
He stopped, gasping like he'd surfaced from underwater.
“Oh god…it’s already working…”
With every second that passed, Hudson found it harder and harder to remember why he wasn’t obeying Jaques' order. He was his ruler, his king, his everything. Why wouldn’t he listen? Not only that, but the name Hudson began to fade. Not that he was forgetting it, but it felt wrong. Like a childhood nickname he was ready to discard, he was Monatana. No…she was Montana, and she belonged to her new king.
There was another voice, frantic, but she couldn’t make out the words. They didn't matter; all that mattered was serving her king. Step pulled away from the other strange voice and went to join her new sisters at the bottom of the stairs on one knee. If she was loyal, he would pick her to be his queen.
Then, there was somebody standing between her and her king. Another man; he was yelling, trying to block out the sound of her king's voice.
“Deal with him”, Jaques ordered, and she nodded, slapping the man across the face before delivering a sharp heel kick to his gut.
She was about to do it again, make her king proud, when something made her pause. This was…wrong. Didn’t she like that man? The one she was attacking with her sisters? Montana took a step backwards and blinked; several of her new sisters were holding the man down as he struggled and yelled.
“Montana! Hudson! Come on! You have to snap out of it! All of you!”
“Don’t listen to him,” The king ordered, “Throw him into the sea!”
No…No, this was wrong, that man…he was important to her. She cared for him, maybe even…felt something more. Memories of making love under the desert night sky flashed in her mind, and suddenly, Montana felt something in her mind snap. The control Jaques had suddenly ended as her sheer stubbornness and force of will broke it.
Everything became clear once more. The cultists were dragging Frank to the edge of the room, ready to toss him from the top of the tower down into the ocean below, or more likely onto the flagstones. She couldn’t let that happen! But she also couldn't fight half a dozen cultists all on her own. She looked over to Jaques, who was standing, proud and smiling, watching it all unfold. His eyes pierced her, and for a second, she felt that compulsion to fall under his control; the snake inside her hissed with delight, wanting nothing more than to serve, but Montana didn’t listen. Luckily for her, Jaques didn’t seem to notice his control over her had slipped.
“Now, Montana dear, come here. I think it’s time we put those flirtations to the test.”
Montana forced a placating, soft smile onto her face and walked up the stairs toward Jaques. Frank was screaming in the background.
“No! Don’t do it! You’re stronger than this, I know it!”
She wanted badly to give him a sign, but she couldn't risk it. Instead, she walked up to Jaques and wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck. In turn he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her close. His lips were right there, smelling of whiskey and temptation. Again, the snake writhed; the need to give in and become his bride was so strong.
“That’s a good dame.” He purred, leaning in to press their lips together.
For a moment, Montana felt lost in the sensations, but then she remembered how much better Frank had felt; she rallied. Moaning into his mouth, she pressed closer, letting her hands run down Jacques's side until they held his wrist. The keystone was in his hand, one little twist…
“Agh!”
Montana grinned, making a grab for the stone as she twisted his wrist. The stone dropped into her palm, and Jaques's face twisted into a mask of hatred.
“How dare-!”
“Sorry, guess your reign was destined to be short.”
From across the room, Frank yelled. “Yes!”
The cultists had let him go; they were all holding their heads in confusion before their masked faces turned to Jaques and Montana. The man launched himself at her, and they rolled, thumping down the stairs painfully.
“Give me that stone!” He hissed.
“Never!”
The magic tingled against Montana’s skin, begging to be unleashed, but there wasn’t time to figure out what it could do. She bit and clawed, clutching the stone to her chest like a vice. She couldn’t let him get it back; she had no idea if she had the strength to resist him again. They reached the bottom of the stairs, and the wind was knocked from her lungs. Montana wheezed as she saw stars, and Jaques's face floated above hers with a look of utter malice. Even now, her grip was strong, but she could feel his hand over hers, trying to pry the keystone away.
“You stupid, weak, pathetic little woman. Did you really think you could beat me?”
Montana huffed, air was refusing to enter her lungs as Jaques raised a fist above her head. But before he could bring it down, a whip wrapped itself around it.
“What?”
Then a second, then a third around his middle, a moment later, he was dragged off her and Montana sat up to see the cultists surrounding him. One held Jaques' own gun to his head and removed her mask with a sneer.
“You dare to use our sacred magic against us?”
“For this, you will be punished.”
Jaques spat on the ground.
“What are you going to do, kill me? You don’t have the guts.”
The cultist with the gun scoffed.
“We are not so barbaric, we shall redeem you, teach you empathy and the error of your ways. However long it takes.”
All at once, Frank was at his side, helping Monatana to stand.
“Maybe we can slip away?” He whispered.
It was tempting, they had the keystone in hand, the greatest historical find of the century, not to mention the implications it had for science. It proved magic was real. Who knows what else it was capable of in the right hands. Then the cultists turned to them, and Frank tensed.
“Here.” Montana sighed, holding out the keystone. “I think this is yours.”
“What are you doing?” Frank hissed.
“The right thing.”
The leader amongst them stepped forward, but instead of taking the stone on Monatan’s open palm, she placed her own hand over it. Montana felt a strange presence pushing against her mind. It wasn’t like Jaques; it didn't seek control but understanding. Maybe it was a mistake, but Montana let it in.
The presence didn't try to control her, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Like somebody was rooting around in her memories, it only lasted a second before retreating, and she shuddered. Instantly, Frank’s hands were on her shoulder, holding tight.
“What? What did she do?”
“I determined who you are.” The woman said seriously before removing her mask. “I am Shana, priestess of Atlantis. You have our thanks for stopping that man.”
“Wait, you’re not some weird cult?” Frank blinked, and Shana giggled.
“No, we are the last vestiges of Atlantis. Those few that are left now that the city has fallen. We stay here, protecting what’s left to ensure such mistakes never happen again.”
“But if you’re all women…how do you…?”
“We take in those we find worthy.” Another woman replied. “Women who need a safe haven away from man’s world. We endeavour to keep this place secret by ensuring any clues left behind by our forebears are either left undiscovered or destroyed.”
“Like the map I found in South America,” Montana said, the women nodded.
“So now what?” Frank asked, “What are you going to do to us?”
The women all exchanged glances.
“Your boat is still moored at our shore, I assume? Shana said, “I suggest you take it, and forget all about this place.”
Montana blinked in surprise.
“Wait, you’re going to let us go?”
“So long as you keep our secret, we see no reason not to.” The cultist said calmly.
“After attacking me in South America? After trying to assassinate me back home and transforming me into a woman?”
The cultist chuckled. “You broke into our ruins, stole our maps, for all we knew, you were just like this man here, wanting to plunder our city and take our magic for yourself.”
Montana opened her mouth to argue but closed it instead. From their point of view…it did look bad.
“In my defence, I didn’t know this place was still inhabited.”
“And that’s how we like to keep it.”
Montana pursed her lips and looked down at Jaques; one of the women was busy putting on a fresh set of cuffs, searching him for picks this time.
“What about him? You’re just going to keep him here?”
“Yes.” Shana nodded, “He will learn, even if it takes decades. Speaking of, would you like to do the honours?”
“Honours?” Jaques questioned, only for his eyes to go wide as they landed on the stone. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Montana just smiled. “Atlantis is for women only, Jaques. If you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to fit in.”
Montana turned the stone in her hand, feeling the power pulse, then focused on Jaques. A spectral snake appeared atop the stone, undulating in the air before diving forward, right into his chest. Jaques gasped as the wind left his lungs, then took a deep breath. His chest heaved, and stayed full even when he breathed out.
“Oh God!” he cried, “No!”
His clothes were stretching, struggling as his new curves grew in. The tight belt around his waist shimmied up to his stomach out of necessity as his hips broadened. His new breasts pressed against his shirt, buttons straining until the top three burst right off, letting his new cleavage spill out. Frank laughed in delight as Jaques' face turned soft; his mouth in a perfect O as he turned into the quintessential European beauty: dark, long hair, wide eyelashes and pouty lips that were begging to be painted red.
Montana giggled. “Enjoy your new body, Jaques. I hope you find it as illuminating as I did.”
“You! I will get my revenge on you, Montana Rockwood!” He yelled as the women dragged him away. “You haven’t seen the last of me!”
“We’ll see about that.” Frank scoffed.
Montana turned the keystone over in her hands one final time before handing it back to the priestess.
“Here. We’ll keep your secret.”
“I thought you would, but what about your body?” Shana asked, “Didn’t you come all this way to get turned back? We’ve turned many potential security risks into a woman; none have ever made the journey here to get turned back.”
Montana hesitated for a moment; that control by Jaques was the last little push she needed to fully embrace this new body of hers. While she didn’t like the idea, she also couldn’t deny that she would have felt the same way regardless, in time. She thought of the fun she had flirting for information, how she could use people underestimating her against them, that night under the desert stars…her time as Hudson Rockwood had been thrilling, but her time as Montana had been, for lack of a better term, transformative. She gave Shana a smile and tossed the stone into her open palm.
“Nah, I think the world needs Montana more than it needs Hudson, don’t you?”
Shana gave her a sly smile.
“I would agree.”
~
The sun was setting over Atlantis as Frank threw off the moorings. Montana attached the small crystal Shana had gifted them to the front of the boat; apparently, it would guide them through the magical storms and whirlpools safely, just once. They sailed in silence, the rain having stopped, and once they were through the whirlpools, the air was eerily calm.
Montana stood at the wheel, one hand on the brass handle, her face squinting against the breeze that tousled her dark hair. Frank lounged against the railing, looking out over the horizon with an odd look on his face.
“You know, for a second, I was worried you were going to stay."
"It crossed my mind, for a moment," Montana admitted.
"Can I ask...why stay this way? You were so adamant about changing back, becoming Hudson again."
Montana pressed her lips together. "Exactly what I said to Shana, the world needs Montana more than it needs Hudson and I...like it this way. Warts and all."
"It's going to be hard, jet-setting across the globe in search of ancient secrets as a woman." Frank pointed out.
“I guess I will just have to make sure to take a man with me." She smiled, "The world’s a big place. And there’s so much more to see. So many more adventures. I figure there’s a lot more to do, and I’d rather do it with you.”
Frank chuckled and came to stand by the wheel with her, arm slipping around her waist like it belonged there.
" I suppose someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
Without a word, he reached for her, pulling her into a kiss that tasted like adventure, and for the first time in her life, Montana felt at home.
When they finally pulled apart, her heart was racing. Frank grinned, breaking the moment with a joke, his familiar teasing tone returning.
“Well, I guess now we’ve got a whole new problem, don’t we?”
Montana arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the wheel. “What’s that?”
“We can’t tell anyone about Atlantis, which means you owe me a big story to sell to my editor."
She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I do have one or two leads...think you can keep up?”
“Sure, I can,” he said, stepping closer again, his eyes never leaving hers. “After all, what are best friends for, doll?”
The boat continued off into the sunset, and Montana opened her mouth to chastise him, but decided to kiss him instead. Maybe the nickname wasn't so bad after all.
The End
