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Montana Rockwood in Amorous Atlantis - Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 21:55:19 +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 1 - It’s a Long Way to Morocco
Sleep had not come easily that night, not because he’d been attacked, that happened constantly, but because his damn boobs kept getting in the way. None of the dames he’d ever slept with had mentioned how sore they got after sleeping on them for a while. Stomach sleeping was the most comfortable way to do things, not to mention it was faster to jump to his feet with his arms already against the ground.
After tossing and turning, Hudson finally gave up and got to his feet as the sunlight began to appear over the horizon. First things first, he had to figure out what to wear. His underwear was fine, if a little stretched, but he had nothing that could stand in for a brazier. He’d have to go without. Which was a pain, literally; these damn melons were heavy.
After digging through his clothes, he managed to find a pair of pants that still fit; even if they did squash over his round ass a bit too much, and a shirt that hung loosely off his more petite frame. After a moment of thought, he tied the ends to the side in a knot to help support his new bust. It came at the cost of showing off his new midriff, it would get some stares, that was for sure, but it was better than having the full weight of his tits bouncing every step.
Now, he just had to figure out how to-
“Hudson? You in there? If we’re going to get tickets on the next liner we’d better get moving!”
Crap. Frank.
“Uh…”
The door opened, and not for the first time, Hudson cursed himself for giving the man a key. Frank walked in, stopped and stared momentarily before scoffing with a wry smile.
“Sorry, miss. I’m looking for your bedfellow.” He said, “but uh, if you don’t mind me saying…he’s been hitting above his weight, snaring a beauty like you.”
“Come off it, Frank. Is that how you talk to the dames?”
The man blinked in surprise again.
“You keep batting your eyelids like that, people will start confusing you for a woman.” Hudson sneered. “It’s me.”
“Oh shit.” Frank swallowed. “I’m so sorry…Georgia? I swear I’m usually so much better with names and faces.”
“Did you seriously-It’s me! Hudson!”
Frank opened and closed his mouth this time, but no sounds came out.
“I’m not some broad you forgot you slept with. It’s me. My name is Hudson Rockwood. We talked about this map yesterday at a diner.” He grabbed the map from the table. “And we’re going to find Atlantis.”
Frank narrowed his eyes.
“...tell me something only the real Hudson would know.”
“Besides all the stuff I just said?” Hudson sighed and felt his cheeks go red. “
Fine…I’m named after the river because my father liked fishing there so much.”
Frank snorted with laughter.
“Okay, you’re Hudson. He never tells anybody else that story, but what the hell? How??”
“With this.” Hudson chucked the cold stone over to his friend and explained what had happened last night.
“So I am hoping I can change back if I find another of these snake stone pendants.”
“Bit of a shot in the dark, don’t you think?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Point taken.”
“Look…I need you to buy the ship tickets. I’ve got no Identification, no nothing.”
Frank sat down and lit up a cigarette.
“The rate you smoke those things, you’re suitcase if going to be half cases.”
“There are worse things I could do.” Frank shrugged, “back to the problem at hand…you need better clothes and a better story than I was turned into a woman but a magic snake pendant. Admitting that to anybody but me will get you sent straight to the loony bin for hysteria.”
Hudson smirked; he’d heard of the precursor and how they used it to treat hysteria in women…there were worse ways to spend his time. Fun as that might be, though, he wasn't planning on spending the rest of his days like this.
“You’re taking your sister to the continent.” Hudson thought aloud, “to be married.”
“Bit traditional. Ladies go out and about these days, Hud. Besides, with that story I need to invent you a husband.”
“Well, I aint playing your girl if that’s what you’re thinking,” Hudson replied. “I’m your sister, we’re travelling for your work. I’m tagging along to…be your photographer. Cheaper than sending a second man on the paper’s dime.”
Frank snapped his fingers and nodded.
“Done and dusted. You need a name though. Can’t go walking around in that body calling yourself Hudson, you’d get more weird looks than you do normally.”
Hudson paced for a moment, thinking. His eyes glanced over the maps on the walls, and his eyes settled on a few printed in words.
“Montana, not a river anymore, I've upgraded to a whole state.”
Frank snorted
“Well, nice to meet you, Montana. Shall we get going?”
Hudson pulled a face and rolled his eyes before batting away Frank’s offered arm.
“We’re stopping at the clothes shop on the way though.” Frank added, “no sister of mine is going to go walking around dressed like that!”
“You’re an ass.” He groaned, heading for the door, trying to ignore how odd his new hips felt when he walked. They had a natural sway to them that felt…obscene.
“What about your bags?” Frank asked.
Hudson turned and grinned.
“What sort of man lets his delicate sister carry her own luggage?”
~
The ocean liner stood tall in dock, only a few minutes away from launching. The tall smokestacks billowed black smog into the air so thickly it almost blotted out the sun. Tearful passengers waved to the people below on the dock as the ship began its slow journey out of the harbour toward the open ocean, but Hudson stood back from the crowd, arms crossed against his chest, and leaned against the wall.
He shifted awkwardly in his new outfit; the high-waisted, wide-legged pants felt odd on his new frame, and the blouse starched and itchy. He was glad for the long coat that covered him in the morning air, too. If only he could have talked Frank out of buying him the damn heels.
“TransAtlantic travel is an event, Hudson.” He’d insisted, “Ladies always dress their best for embarkation.”
It was true, he didn’t see a single woman on deck not in heels or her Sunday best. But still. They pinched his toes, and walking on a ship was hard enough without adding the extra balancing act. He dreaded when they got to the open ocean, he was unsteady enough as it was! At least it would give him a legitimate excuse to hang out in dark corners and brood.
The stone was in his pocket, still dull and lifeless. Time and time again, he checked for any sign of the metal snake or any snake-like markings on his body, but all he ever found was soft skin and supple curves. It was a nightmare, a slightly hot nightmare. The cultist had proven useless, remaining silent in her cell no matter who questioned her. At least that’s what the police mentioned, of course she escaped before he could see her himself.
“Hey there, doll.”
Hudson’s eyes slid to the side without moving his head; a well-dressed man with a European look to him was leaning up against the wall with a grin. He was a handsome enough fella, chewing on a toothpick that he flicked to the ground as he moved a step closer.
“I ain’t no doll.” Hudson replied coolly.
“Aw, come now, don't be cold.” His companion teased, “I’m just bein’ friendly. Poor lady, standing all by her lonesome while we ship out, don’t you have somebody down there to wave to? Husband? Boyfriend?”
The man moved closer again, pressing a hand above Hudson’s head and leaning in close. Normally, a snake like this wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, but the position suddenly put into stark contrast just how much smaller he was now. He didn't have the physical strength he’d come to rely on either, which left only one thing. His smarts.
“If this is your way of asking if I am single, it’s clumsy.” He said smoothly, making sure he kept his posture straight and confident.
“Hey!”
They both turned to see Frank storming toward them and Hudson blinked in surprise as he grabbed the new man’s hand and yanked it away from the wall, and Hudson.
“Hey, hey! Step off!” The man hissed, yanking his hand away. “If you already got a claim, I’ll be on my way, no harm, no foul.”
Hudson felt his blood beginning to boil; he was standing right here!
“That’s my sister, bucko. Get moving.” Frank growled, and the man shrugged, heading back into the crowd without saying another word.
“What the hell did you do that for, Frank?” Hudson asked, “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Not in this body, you can’t,” Frank whispered as they made their way down to their cabin. “Besides, gotta keep up the act, right? Protective big brother to the rescue?”
“I don’t need rescuing. I do the recusing.”
He’d been standing right there while two men argued over him like a piece of meat. It was disgusting! Hudson bit the inside of his cheek and wondered, had he ever done that? It seemed so chivalrous from the other side… The boat jerked as they hit open ocean and Hudson wobbled on his heels, falling forward and right into Frank’s arms.
“Let go of me.” He snapped, only to almost fall again as soon as he tried to walk.
“Pride be damned, Hudson. I am only trying to help you!” Frank cursed. “Now take my damn arm like a lady would, and let me get you back to the cabin.”
Hudson leaned against the hallway, holding onto the railing for damn life and looked down at the heels with disdain.
“...Fine.”
~
Despite all the glitz and glamour spoken of in the magazines and news these days, travel across the Atlantic was, in all honesty, quite dull. Unless you were one of the fortunate and rich few travelling first class and had all the lounges at your disposal, there was very little to do. Their ship didn't even have a bar for third class, so Hudson, Frank and the rest of their cohort had very little to do except visit their dining hall for basic meals and hang about on deck. One could only stare at the open ocean so much before it lost its mysterious beauty and just became a swathe of endless, boring blue.
Hudson threw himself into studying the map, but after a few days, it was wearing on him. If only they were on one of those ships with a library, perhaps he could find some maps to better recognise that one bit of land at the edge. He was sure it was the edge of Morocco, but the map was ancient; the land had changed, and he didn’t want to send himself on a wild goose chase, especially not when getting his old body and life back were at risk.
Even so, after several days holed up alone, his mind was starting to feel like mush. Frank spent most of his time up on deck, smoothly walking his way into a smoking lounge. He’d always had a knack for looking like he belonged in any setting so he was usually able to sneak up onto the decks reserved for second or first class. It was a talent that had come in handy many times, perhaps it was why he made such a good reporter.
Hudson groaned; what he needed was a brain break. A little something to get his brain refocused and thinking analytically again, and he knew just the cure. He wobbled his way up to one of the third-class dining rooms. In lieu of a proper longue, people who didn’t want to stay in their cabins often congregated there between meals, and as usual, somebody was dealing cards.
Without thinking, Hudson approached and sat down only for the man dealing to stop and raise his eyebrow.
“This isn’t a ladies game.”
“Good thing I’m not a lady.” Hudson said seriously and they all laughed.
“Seriously, darling. As much as I love a spitfire, we’re not playing for peanuts here.”
It was the man from launch day, his hair sleek as ever, and his grin reminded Hudson of a fox.
“Good, because I don't have any.” Hudson continued, placing down a crisp bill. They had no way of knowing it was all he had left. “Judging by what’s on the table, this should be enough to buy in.”
One of the other men gave a low whistle, and Hudson smiled softly to himself. He knew if a dame walked up to his table and started talking the way he was, he'd be impressed, too. Still, it was irritating having to go through all this rigmarole just to play poker when all he used to have to do was sit down.
"Fine, deal her in."
The other men shrugged, and Hudson grinned; this was already making him feel better. The Atlantic wind howled outside, but inside, the only gusts were those of bluffs and bets.
“Jaques.” The man from the deck grinned, offering his hand, which Hudson took and shook firmly before the man could raise it to his lips to kiss. “That’s a good handshake you have there.”
“What can I say, I’m good with my hands.”
Hudson almost balked at his own remark, where had that come from?
Jaques and the other men all rolled their sleeves up and exchanged gruff laughs and jibes as they started.
"Hell, ain't no dame gonna beat us," one of them chuckled, tossing in his coins with a smirk.
The game began, cards flicking across the felt like dancers in a speakeasy. Hudson played it cool, letting them believe they had the upper hand. If there was one thing he'd learned all these years, it was that being underestimated was the best advantage you could get. And these guys were definitely underestimating him now.
Just as Jaques was about to show his hand, Hudson noticed something; the faintest hint of a tattoo peaking out from Jaques's suit wrist and his eyes. Eyes that were constantly darting to his chest. In fact, many of the players were trying to sneak a peek. Hudson felt an idea form in his brain, and as casually as he could, he undid a single button at the top of the blouse. The distraction proved fruitful; within a few minutes, he'd won two more hands.
"Looks like lady luck's on my side tonight, boys," Hudson grinned, raking in another pile of coins and paper.
The men grumbled, their pride stung by the sting of defeat. Hudson couldn't believe how much easier things were with the new distractions on his chest. He played them like a fiddle, his strategy was as sharp as a switchblade. Growing up gambling in the streets gave you that edge when it came to cards. By the time they’d played five rounds he had more that doubled his buy in, and his mind felt sharp again. It was time to return to his work, but this was so much fun he almost didn’t want to give it up. A small crowd had even gathered to watch the lady who was kicking all the men’s asses at cards.
His mind once again went to the flash of tattoo he’d caught on Jaques' arm. He’d only been able to catch a quick look, but it had looked suspiciously like a snake. It wouldn’t be out of the question for one of those snake cult people to be aboard. He just needed to get a better look to make sure he wasn't chasing down a false lead. But how?
“I’m done.” One of the men said in disgust, “I know when my goose is cooked.”
“With you there.”
The two men laid down their cards and stood, leaving just Jaques and Hudson. Damn! How would he keep him here and get a better look at his wrist? Cards was the perfect way to get a look at somebody’s hand. He couldn’t exactly go pulling up his sleeves without good reason. Then he saw Jaques' eyes duck down again, right to his chest and he got an idea.
“Shame the fun has to end. I was starting to really enjoy your company.”
Jaques smiled, cold and arrogant, as if that was exactly what he expected any woman he met to say.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Why don’t we…take a stroll up on deck?” Hudson suggested a public place. Nothing could happen, but Jaques might think otherwise and let his guard down. It would be perfect for what he had planned.
The few women in the room looked at him with disgust and judgement. No proper lady invited a man out, but they weren’t to know he wasn’t a real man. On the other hand, the men raised their eyebrows, and a few even wolf-whistled. Hudson paid them no heed. He was laser-focused on Jaques's wrist and whether or not it could be a clue. They made their way up onto the deck into the bracing sea breeze. Instantly, Hudson felt gooseflesh forming across his skin in the cold air and he grinned. The truth was he didn’t mind the cold, he found it sharpened his senses and made him feel closer to the wild world he loved to explore. But nobody would ever expect a woman to feel that way. He quickly made a show of wrapping his arms around his torso, ‘accidentally’ lifting up his bosom as he did so and watched as Jaques struggled to keep his eyes on his face. This was almost too easy.
“Goodness, it is breezy,” Hudson said breathlessly. “Perhaps I should just go back to my cabin.”
“No, here.” Jaques offered, slipping off his jacket and gently placing it around Hudson’s shoulder, just like any gentleman would.
“Why, thank you. How is such a gentleman in third class?”
“Well, I actually have a second-class cabin, I just prefer the vim and vigour of those travelling in third-class. Real people, not society dregs.”
Hudson just nodded along, eyes on Jaques's wrist. Perfectly to plan, Hudson could now see Jaques's tattoo clearly without the long sleeve covering it and to his delight and curiosity, he knew the symbol.
“What an odd tattoo. Is that a snake?”
“Ah yes, I was a navy man once, you see. One too many drinks on shore leave in India now this is my badge of shame, I suppose.” He said charmingly.
He was a good liar. Hudson would have believed him himself were it not for the fact he knew the symbol's true meaning; it was printed on the corner of his map. Jaques had to be part of the cult that had been pursuing him, the cult that had done this to him.
“You must have had some adventures,” Hudson said, trying to covertly put his hands into the jacket pocket for further clues.
“Of course, but none of those stories are suitable for such lovely company.”
He reached around and squeezed Hudson’s arm, and to his shock, Hudson felt his body respond. All of a sudden, his skin felt hypersensitive. He could feel the scratch of cloth against it and the warmth of Jaques's hand seeping through the fabric. It was all he could do to keep the blush out of his cheeks.
“So…why are you aboard?” He asked, trying hard to ignore the strange sensations coursing through his veins.
“Oh, travelling for fun, I love the continent, it has been too long since I’ve been there.”
“I see.”
“And yourself.”
“With my brother for his work…what do you plan to do once you get to Casablanca?”
“Another one of those little adventures that delicate women’s ears shouldn't hear.” Jaques grinned. His teeth were white and shiny, for some reason, that smile made Hudson’s stomach flip.
“Are you alright, your face is all red.”
“The wind, quite bracing as I said, I should go. Thank you for the coat.”
Hudson quickly returned it as he turned on his heels, wobbling a little as the ship lurched to the side. He chalked up his strange reactions to excitement, if Jaques really was going on an adventure in Morocco, he might be able to lead him and Frank in the right direction.
“Hey, wait! Why don’t I walk you back to your room?” Jaques offered, “Can’t let the wind ruin our conversation. We were just getting started!”
“No, that’s alright-”
Hudson froze. They were going to be on this ship for some time yet. Letting these silly feelings stop him from getting more information would be foolish. But the idea of sticking around right now was a little overwhelming.
“Actually, why don’t we meet somewhere a little warmer tomorrow? The second class longue, perhaps.”
Jaques grinned.
“It’s a date.”
~
“You cannot be serious.”
“Why not? This is a lead, Frank, I thought a reporter would be all about following up leads.”
Hudson placed his hands on his hips, which, in his long pencil skirt and blouse, was oddly empowering.
“Yeah, but meeting a guy in the lounge alone is a bit…I don't know, forward?”
“You realise this is not an actual date, right?”
“That’s not the point; that’s how it looks. People are going to stare, and then, they are going to stare at me.” Frank started to chew on his cigarette. “You’re supposed to be my sister. What sort of brother lets his sister walk around the ship, playing poker with random gents and meeting a fella for drinks unescorted? It just ain’t done, doll.”
“Don’t call me a doll. Come with me then, play chaperone. Maybe you’ll notice something, but just don’t interrupt.”
“Fine. My ass is riding on this whole ancient Atlantis thing going somewhere anyway, I suppose.” He muttered. “Let’s go.”
The second-class lounge was certainly different from the mess hall; proper chairs and game boards with actual porthole windows that weren’t submerged beneath the waves. It had been pretty easy to talk their way in, between Hudson batting his eyes and Frank’s smooth talking. Hudson spotted Jaques sitting by himself in a small corner on a sette, half reading a book and half watching the door. He was handsome, in a sharp, almost dangerous way, with the kind of looks that could charm a snake or, more likely, be one. His shirt sleeves were rolled just enough to show the faint curve of the tattoo at his wrist.
“I knew you wouldn't have much trouble getting in here.” he smiled. “Given your talent for cards, I imagined slipping past wouldn’t be too much for you.”
“Didn't even need to sneak.” Hudson grinned, batting his eyelashes again. “I just asked real nicely.”
Hudson let the innuendo hang in the air and Jaques took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes raking over him with practised interest. Hudson sat and shifted slightly, crossing his legs with deliberate slowness, drawing his gaze exactly where she wanted it. A thrill went through him; he’d never tried to do anything like this before.
“You know, you’ve got a certain… something,” Jaques said, leaning forward just enough that she could catch the faintest whiff of his cologne, something musky, like sandalwood and leather.
“Oh? What might that be?” she asked, her voice silky smooth, with just a hint of mischief. He let the question hang, the kind that invited flattery, the kind that made men talk more than they should.
But just as she was about to dig deeper, asking him about his next stop after Morocco or maybe that curious tattoo on his arm, a familiar voice broke the tension like a dropped glass.
“Montana, ain’t no reason to sit so close.”
Hudson’s jaw tightened, and she quickly glanced at Frank, her lips twitching with barely concealed irritation. He stood just a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets. Hudson had honestly forgotten he was there.
“Frank,” Hudson said sweetly, though her eyes were anything but, “why don’t you go play cards or something, hmm? I’m sure there’s a seat open at the table. I know you like to gossip, I am sure if you keep your ears open, you’ll hear something good.”
Frank’s face twisted, and Hudson felt his heart start to squeeze; he was ruining everything! Jaques's smile slipped, and Hudson could feel the delicate web she had been spinning start to unravel.
“My brother is just being overprotective.” Hudson smiled as sweetly as he could and shuffled a little closer on the couch, ignoring how his thighs seemed to heat at the brush of contact. “He was just leaving.”
“I think I’d better stay here,” Frank said, sitting himself down in a chair only a few feet away. Hudson wanted to throttle him.
“He means well,” Hudson said with a practised laugh, reaching over to touch Jaques's hand, just enough to keep his attention where it needed to be. She glanced up at him through her lashes. “But a girl’s got to have a little fun now and then, right?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“And I don't know if I will be seeing you once we reach port,” Hudson added with a pout. “Unless you’re staying in the city?”
“For a time, but then I need to be heading down the coast.”
“Whatever for?”
Hudson leaned in close, keeping his eyes locked on Jaques's features for any signs of falsehood. This man was going to lead him to the cult, he just knew it. Hudson watched as Jaques's eyes dipped, just for a moment, to his chest and back again. To his surprise, his body started to respond again, a blush spreading across his breasts beneath the blouse. It was flattering to have his attention, even if that wasn't the point of this conversation.
“Well,” Jaques licked his lips. “There is a library I’d like to visit.”
Hudson leaned in. The cologne filled his nostrils, and he felt slightly lightheaded for a moment. His tongue darted out to wet his lips without him even meaning to.
“Whereabouts?”
Jaques hesitated. Hudson could tell he was on the edge of saying the truth when Frank cleared his throat loudly. Jaques jumped back, leaving the space in front of Hudson cold, just like his fury. Jaques stood up slowly, brushing the creases from his trousers with an irritated look on his face.
“Seems like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
Hudson cursed inwardly and tried to put on his best flirtatious face.
“Jaques,” he began, her voice honey-sweet again, “I’m sure my brother didn’t mean anything by it. He’s just—”
“No harm done, doll,” Jaques said, though his smile had faded completely. “Some other time, maybe.”
He nodded once to Frank and then turned on his heel, vanishing into the smoke-filled room.
“Nice going.” Hudson hissed. “I was getting somewhere with him.”
“What? So he can call you ‘doll’ and I can’t?”
“Seriously? What is wrong with you.”
“Wrong with me?” Frank growled. “What’s wrong with you? Acting like some sort of little tart to get information?”
“You never had a problem with me flirting with women for information before.”
“That was different. You’re different now.” Frank said, uncomfortable, chewing on his cigarette so much it went out. “That guy was a dead end, I could sense it. He’s trouble.”
Trouble? Of course, he was trouble. That was exactly why he’d been after him in the first place!
“Next time, keep your nose out of it,” Hudson snapped, standing up and smoothing his skirt. “I almost had him eating out of the palm of my hand.”
“Are you sure information was all you wanted from him?” Frank said snidely, and Hudson gaped. “I saw how you were looking at him, you’re actually attracted to that man, aren’t you, doll?”
Frank added the last word with venom, and Hudson was about ready to tear his hair out. He grows a nice rack, and suddenly Frank was treating him like…well, like a woman!
“I was not attracted to him, I was just doing the job,” Hudson said viciously before standing up and storming back to their cabin. As he did so, he tried very hard to convince himself that what he’d just said was true.
