Anything Butt Pirates! Ch. 01

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Transsexual love transcends forbidden lust in the 1800s.
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gobula
gobula
185 Followers

The stigmata of Frances Copal was known among the Dominicans as the "Great Reach of God and Man" but only for a little while, before human interest, greed, and the nature of man himself brought that pinion wish down. His grand uncle, Arthur Traumata was himself a great inquisitorial master who single handedly lead 3,000 conversions into the true faith. (Triple that number of heathens he had "Relaxed" into the flames). Much as the church vexed over its loss of global influence with the rising of democracies and the fall of the Papacy in the hearts of man, so too it hungered and thirsted for new blood, new fire- Frances was to be that fire, that blood- his stigmata would bring life into an ebbing faith and vanishing order, The Dominican. The closing of the century had passed and the millennium was within reach, many believed him a telling sign of the End Of Days as prophesied in the Book Of Daniel. Their trust, hope and aspirations were deeply misplaced.

Frances Copal, by fault or fortune had been inflicted with the stigmata as a youth and as such his physical body under developed, he did not have the broad shoulders of other men, nor was he tall, agile or athletic. His skin was pale and his features were delicate. He spent much of his early life reading and studying. His parents hoped him, at best, to become an apothecary. When he wasn't stricken with the signs, he attended university, but do to illness and absenteeism only just graduated, with no honors and no prospects. He was bedridden when Fiona, a childhood sweetheart and confidant, read him his third letter of denial. It was no surprise, the interview had not gone well. "You have beautiful penmanship, however." Fiona said with less than an encouraging smile, she pointed to their positive comment at the bottom of the letter- it was an afterthought for sure.

"Fiona my dear, I cannot read today." Frances closed his eyes and waved off the letter, "Should that I never read or write again- that would be grand."

"Fe such things darling." Fiona said folding the letter and tucking it under his pillow. She checked on his bandages: "Both hands... and feet this time..."

"Nay love, the miracle is that I still the blood to pour..."

"My poor Frances!" Fiona kissed the hands that bled.

Such rejections he was used to, but she comforted him nonetheless, as she always did with tenderness, affection and passion. In their long relations she had learned how to bring him up, without causing him pain. When afflicted, the stigmata gave his hands, arms, feet, legs, sides, head and eyes a dull throbbing pain. But her touch was gentle, her skin smooth, her lips plush and her mouth warm, sweet.

Such sweet memories...

No, Frances was not a Dominican by faith or nature, there was no conviction in him- his falling into the order was by a misfortunate happenstance. A Dominican monk had been at the medicine store dispensary when Fiona had gone to get Frances' prescriptions. The Dominican followed her to him and fell at his knees at the foot of the bed. "Salvation hath come to the Somme!" Then Dominicans flooded to him, pouring out praise and salutations it wasn't long before his ego was stroked into recognition of his own misfortune as something divine. Their miscreant view of him was an easy pill for him to swallow and before to much time he'd accepted the vows of the order and entered into the monastery. In exchange, they allowed him to practice his trade there. Soon, with "healing" abundance, word spread from village to town and to city, then to the Holy See. A visitation from the Vatican by three cardinals who made inquest of the "Blessed" Dominican brought more popularity to this icon, however, Frances was no saint, no monk, no real believer- by no means of his own hand had he elected himself to the order, nor to the position the church had put him in, for his defense that must be said, in accusation, he did nothing to prevent it either, moreover he relished the attention, but he had many doubts, fears, concerns... I know this for I am he.

January 1821

They called my suffering a miracle and rejoiced in my agony surely it was no surprise that I grew biter. Arrogance is the fall of any man who is given what he did not own- that was me. Elated as I was in the beginning, being idolized by the church and no longer the shame of my family. But the marriage was short lived and I wore my welcome soon. It was decided that I should leave to the Americas and there help found an order in the floundering faithless democracy. Cardinal Palo was dispatched with me and pay notes worth 15,000 dollars in the United States. We were sent to Louisiana, an area ripe for revival and surly having no lack of sinners, heathens, and back-sliders. Also it was anticipated that language would not be an issue as I was French and the cardinal spoke Spanish as well as French.

Cardinal Palo was a lascivious bastard. He had fallen into Dutch with the Arch Bishop of Gala and was, like me, in exile. Our suffrage was decreed for a term of ten years. After which, the mission we established might restore us to the parent daises with three times the amount of money- and with it we would be allowed to return, no sooner and with no less- such were the terms of our sad situation.

"It is a money thing, Monk... all money." The cardinal pulled at his mustache and eyed me with a grin as he poured some brandy for us both. The small quarters of his room rolled and pitched with the ship and the sea. "I am good at increasing it, and with your freak show..." he winked, "Well you'll get the money in with the theatrics." he tossed the drink into his mouth and slammed the drink down wincing afterward.

A sad prospect we were, two souls surely lost with no salvation. With irony I considered that we were to become guides for others, what a farce! I took the small glass, half filled with the brown base drink. "To theatrics then!" It took 2 gulps to get mine down. My throat stung and my face tingled, I felt warm.

Palo eyed me as he poured us each another glass. "This America. It is a dangerous place." he saluted me with his glass and then downed it. I sipped mine, burning my mouth as I listened to him: " crime is rampant... and Europeans are hated, distrusted... but getting there, that is going to be a danger all to its own." he pulled out a paper from Madrid.

I could not read Spanish, and my vision was already doubling so I gestured for him to continue: "Do tell." he poured me another drink and went on.

"Pirating used to be of national interest..."

I cut him off abruptly: "Oh come-on anything but pirates now!" but my joke fell on deaf ears and he continued.

"... English and French verses each other or taking Spanish Galleons, The Dutch tradesmen and the American Privateers, but with the sequestering of slave trade and the currant treaties pirates have found their new fortunes banding together, even against their own nations- there is no honor or decency among these men." He turned the paper over and pointed at a small list of several vessels; "A Spanish Brig, A cutter from St. Agora de Cuba, A Dutch hybrid, and an American Schooner." He straitened the paper flat and folded it over tucking it away with his books. "All lost to the pirates, raped an pillaged, few of the crew and less of the passengers survived."

"We should probably pray or something." I spoke with a slur.

"Most certainly!" the cardinal laughed. He stared at me with sparkling eyes, as if he owned a secret: "Something."

"I shall remember you in my benedictions tonight." It was time to go. I pushed off the table but could not stand and so slumped back to my seat. "That didn't go so well." the room began to spin.

"Here let me help you." the cardinal said. He turned from a red blur into a fleshy one as he took my hands and led me to his bed. It was not a far distance really, I only had to lean over and I was in it. the next thing I knew was how cold I was. He had removed my brown robe and there on the bed, above his sheets, I lay naked, exposed. "You are very much like a woman Frances... do you know that?"

"That's not really proper or polite now is it?" I was struggling to gather my thoughts.

"On your stomach man." the cardinal insisted and I complied, propping my head up with my elbows and wondered where I was.

Something felt good, something quite sensuous but I could not place it. His hands pulled my cheeks apart and he got behind me to lick my anus- that was what it was! what a fabulous sensation! It carried me back to when Fiona and I would lay together in the bed and kiss each other's bodies. What a wonderful woman she was... "Fiona" I whispered.

The cardinal either did not hear me or ignored me all together. He continued to lick and stab at my anus with his tongue while his stash tickled my cheeks.

He messaged my lower back with his ringed hand and gripped my hair, which was shoulder length, tugging it back to him. "This is going to hurt a little." he spit on his hand as I turned around to ask him what was going to hurt, and rubbed his erection with it, then spit on his hand again. He pushed his finger into my ass and lubricated me with it.

I was drunk, maybe doped, and though I had never been with a man before, I knew what was coming next.

"Here." he bade me to raise my hips to him and he put a pillow under me: "Relax... take it slow... easy." he said in a soothing tone.

The ship rocked back and forth gently. He brought himself down on me as I came up. His head found my anus and with effort he pushed it in. I tried to relax my muscles, to allow entry with as little pain as necessary

He gripped my hips and pushed harder, farther, deeper. Little by little his manhood sunk into me. I felt like I was being divided in two by a wedge. The discomfort felt like I was going to the bathroom, only in reverse. I hoped that I didn't have an accident, what a terrible misfortune that would have been! Finally his fury balls came to rest against mine. He was as far as he could go into me. Slowly he rocked back out of me and then in again about halfway out and all the way in again. "Oh you feel like a virgin!" Aristotle Palo said as he continued to thrust in and out of me.

I felt the loose skin on his penis fold back and forth as he drove in and out of me. My sphincter constricted around him, squeezing him tight. I pushed back when it felt right to do so and reached behind him, taking hold of his ass with my right hand, pulling him to me and moaned.

"You feel like a virgin, but you fuck like a whore!" he gasped, placing both his hands on my back and picking up the pace. (SLAP, SLAP, SLAP!) our bodies pounded together as I pushed back and he forward. The ship rolled on the sea and us in the bed. "You feel so good Frances, so good Francine!" he decided on the nickname and it stayed with me. "Fuck my dick Francine! fuck it!"

I complied pushing back from the wall with my left hand. Off the pillow now, my balls and dick flopped around without purpose beneath us as he hammered into me and I jacked back at him. "Oh yes!" I caught myself gasping, wondering if this was how Fiona had felt when I had sex with her ass. She had cum from it, would I?

Aristotle gripped me tight and I felt his dick swell inside me. His rhythm sputtered and he froze before continuing with long deep thrusts, erupting his hot semen deep inside my cavity. I had given up on coming myself, but when he began to shoot his load into me, with a little shame, I spurted pre-cum onto his pillow.

"Oh yes! Yes! Yes!" he groaned as his dick fired off it's last into me. He gasped and got off me.

"Sorry." I said pointing at the pillow as I too climbed off the bed.

The room rolled and I took hold of the table to prevent my fall.

"That is alright..." he said nonchalantly.

The next day he came to my room. It was smaller than his but we didn't need much room for what he had in mind. As before we started with a few drinks before disrobing, this time however he used wax on me to remove what little body hair I had. "So smooth." he said after the painful procedure. He felt my ass and my legs. "Just like a woman's!" he marveled. This time I spit on my hand and readied my ass for him. "Oh you do have the soul of a slut." he grinned and mounted me quickly. In a few short moments he came to his peek and came, filling my ass with his hot goo. I took to rubbing my own balls as he fucked me and came full this time, soiling my bed as he came in me.

We were both sweaty in my small room, but cuddled on the bed afterward for a while. The ship lulled and rolled with the sea, the lantern had gone out I imagine that in the darkness he pretended that I was a woman, perhaps a woman that he missed from home.

We had been spooning, with his dick still in my ass, but I rolled over and stared at his shadow in the darkness, I put a hand to his chest as a woman might and whispered to him, "Tell me about her."

He sucked in through his teeth. "She is French... like you... slender, brown hair and eyes, a simple country girl... she is... she will have my child while I am away."

I remembered how Fiona used to treat me when I was down, and I could tell he was in such a state. So I took a hold of his weakening member with my left hand. I squeezed it and messaged his furry balls.

"Oh..." he arched his back, freeing his cock for my access from the blankets he had pulled over us while we spooned. I rubbed his wet dick head and stroked his dick softly like Fiona did for me. But he had just cum... it would take more. I stooped over to his groin and with slight hesitation, having never done such a thing in my life, took his dick in my mouth. I caressed the base of it with my tongue and licked at the sides at first. I nibbled at his skin around his thighs and darted my tongue into the fur that surrounded his balls.

"You definitely know what you are doing don't you Francine! oh you feel so good!" he ran his hand over my head, and guided my mouth to his dick.

I did not resist but opened wide, taking him in. Sucking him in and out. My neck worked back and forth moving the dick about in my mouth as I sucked at it. It stiffened. (SLURP, SLURP, SLURP!) my sucking made a smacking noise. Too late I considered the fact that his dick had only just been in my ass- but there was no bad taste, I must have been clean or I was so nervous that I didn't realize it. Either way before I could even reconsider my actions he gripped my head firm and pushed his dick up into my face with quick ferocity. His dick scrapped the back of my throat as it began to cum. Hot shots flung down my gullet and I choked on it but swallowed it up, forcing it's nastiness down with equal eagerness to satisfy him.

"Oh suck my dick you whore!" he laughed, "Oh yes!" one last spurt and he was finished. The saltiness of his semen stuck to my throat. I rolled his sweetness with my tongue, savoring the unique flavor- truly it was a first. When I swallowed what had remained in my mouth, it slipped down my throat and swam into my belly. There was a sick sensation, I had done wrong, and I knew it. Again we spooned, but not until we kissed. It was the first time that I kissed another man. I am sure he only did it to taste his own, but it was a strange sensation none the less. His mustache tickled my nose and his tongue was thick and rough. He pushed it into my mouth as if on a hunt for what remained of his juices. He found some there I am sure, there was so much of it. And we kissed for a while, then I tuned over and went to sleep in his arms. I awoke to the sensation of being entered again. Complying, I rolled on to my stomach and he assumed the dominant position behind me. Burring his cock into my ass and thrusting up and deep into me, we fucked quickly, passionately until he was done again. His member throbbed in me as it spilled out deep into my anal cavity. We were both sweaty and out of breath, and I was very tired by then. "I love you Francine." he gasped, before I drifted off to sleep. "Me too." I replied.

I awoke in the morning to a knock at the door. He was not in bed with me, I was alone. I pulled the sheets about me and with groggy eyes, opened my cabin. In the hallway stood the Cardinal in his red robes. He had with him a small chest. I stood to the side and sheepishly let him in to my small room. "These are some things I would like for you to have." he said as he huffed and dropped the chest on to my bed.

I closed the door and stepped around him for the room was very small.

He opened it.

Inside lay woman's things. A corset, two dresses, one that was of fine weave with bristled buttons and a buttress in the back as the fashion in Paris. It was a light blue with pink ruffles made of silk. The other was a more simple brown three piece dress. There was also a matching hat for the blue dress with a wide rim and a bill like front with a slight blue half veil. There was a pair of woman's knickers that were white and another, more for seduction that were exposed at the crotch and had garter belts for stockings, which were buried at the bottom. There was also perfume and some powder. "What is all this?" I asked in disbelief.

He locked the door behind him. "Francine... I want you to be Francine now... for the rest of this journey... I will tell the boatswain that you are my mistress and the Monk disguise was a ruse... to sneak you with me in my exile... so we can be together." He took hold of my hands and looked down at me.

In his eyes, I saw my expression... it was still shock. I wondered if he knew, however, just how exciting the prospect was for me. Secretly, privately, was this what I always wanted? How was it that Fiona and I never wed? Was it that I wanted to be her and not with her?

"What say you?" he squeezed my hands. I could see that he had a temper, perhaps it was that which landed him in trouble and not only his lusts, unchecked by his charisma... he was handsome, dangerously so.

I nodded. He smiled and released me.

"Your French is already confusing them... in America the accent will be desirable itself..." he stroked his mustache. "I will be back, but before I go, let me help you with the corset it is a two person thing, until you find mastery of it."

I slipped on the tightly fitting knickers with the opening in the crotch, snapping the garter belts to the hose before slipping on the front of the corset. it strapped down around my buttocks over the fancy underwear. The Cardinal then began pulling the strings taught to my back and lacing them. I exhaled as he did so, so that my waist would get snug. In the end my figure was even more feminine than before. The corset made me appear to have woman's hips and small breasts. He left as I chose which dress to dawn. "I will see you on the deck." he left.

The blue dress was my choice but figuring out how to get the damn thing on was a trick. There were parts that overlay and parts that tied together. Parts that buttoned and parts that snapped. In the end I desired a great mirror to admire myself in, but there was none. I powdered my face and neck, pulled my hair back into a tail, allowing two locks to fall out at either side of my face. The perfume bottle was yellow gold with a hose and ball attachment for spray. I held it at a distance from me and squeezed the ball. Sweat, rich flower fragrance filled the air in a cloud landing its coolness on my exposed skin. It was the first time I had applied perfume to myself... there had been a lot of first times recently, but surprisingly the scent of the flowers was the one that really stood out to me.

Then, I placed my hat on, tilting it as the fashion was to wear and pulled the veil down so that half of my face was covered and would be in the shade when I reached the deck.

Nervous apprehension was my feelings. Butterflies fluttered about in my stomach. Would the crew believe I was a woman? Would he be pleased? Would he be disappointed? "Only one way to find out Francine." I told myself, enjoying my new persona- who knew at that time if it would last much more than five minutes more? Perhaps I would come to the deck and be laughed off the boat as a homosexual, or strung up on the mast for being a cross dresser? Who knew?

gobula
gobula
185 Followers