Podcast appearances and mentions of William Bradford

What did the Pilgrims truly seek when they braved treacherous seas and abandoned their homeland? Jesse Cope dismantles the modern myth that America's founders wanted to create a secular nation divorced from Christianity. Drawing from Daniel Webster's powerful orations about New England's settlers, he reveals how these brave souls weren't fleeing from God but desperately seeking to draw closer to Him without denominational constraints."They weren't trying to escape God, folks. They were trying to draw closer to God and Jesus Christ," Cope emphasizes, pointing to the Mayflower Compact's explicit purpose statement: "for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian faith." This fundamental misunderstanding has led many Americans to confuse "separation of church and state" with "separation of God and state"—a distortion of our founders' intentions that has profound implications for our national identity.The episode weaves this historical exploration with practical spiritual guidance from 1 Thessalonians 5, challenging listeners to "rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks." Through a compelling metaphor of walking a narrow, illuminated path toward heaven, Cope asks us to consider how differently we might live if we could see that path and knew we needed to be on it when "the music stops."Whether examining Christ's teaching on private prayer, the biblical prioritization of marriage, or the historical evidence of America's Christian foundations, this episode offers both historical correction and spiritual encouragement. Cope concludes with a powerful call to return God to the center of our personal and national life: "Until we get back to putting God at the center of our nation, our institutions, our families, our marriages, and our hearts, we're just spinning our tires."Support the showThe American Soul Podcasthttps://www.buzzsprout.com/1791934/subscribe

Join Robin and I as we conclude our series on William Bradford Bishop.Patreon.com/julesandashleyPatreon.com/thetrailwentcold

Today it's just Robin and myself, as Ashley is busy with mom life and her new job as a Science Teacher. We will be discussing William Bradford Bishop, the murders of his family and the mystery as to whether he ended his own life or if he is on the run in Europe and still evading capture. Patreon.com/julesandashleyPatreon.com/thetrailwentcold

Happy Thursday Besties! This week we gotta do a recap on both Babygirl and the Tiktok Ban Scare that haunted us this weekend, before hoping into the crazy cross over cases that we have for you today! One thing is for certain and that is the fact that TAY AND MORG ARE SO SYNCED that they unknowingly dipped their toes in each other's worlds today!! Morgan kicks us off with Henry the Wizard Harrison and William Dove with the juicest courtroom drama from the chronically bored 1800s folks. Before Tay wraps up 226 with the case of man who is the combination of John List and DB Cooper from the 1970s. Click HERE to check out the Letter from Bankston to Bishop.Thanks for joining us this week, talk to ya on Tuesday! If you feel so inclined, please leave us a 5 star review as a little kiss on the cheek! Love ya, BYE!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

¡Bienvenidos a un nuevo episodio de La Cara del Mal! Hoy exploramos la escalofriante historia de William Bradford Bishop ️‍♂️. William Bradford Bishop, un exfuncionario del Departamento de Estado de los Estados Unidos , parecía tenerlo todo: una carrera prometedora, una vida acomodada y una familia que lo apoyaba. Sin embargo, en 1976, su fachada perfecta se desmoronó de la manera más brutal. Bradford Bishop asesinó a sangre fría a su esposa, su madre y sus tres hijos pequeños, utilizando un martillo para acabar con sus vidas. Pero su horror no terminó ahí. Tras cometer el crimen, prendió fuego a los cuerpos en un intento por borrar cualquier rastro de su atroz acto . A pesar de la intensidad de la investigación, Bishop logró desaparecer sin dejar rastro, convirtiéndose en uno de los fugitivos más buscados de Estados Unidos. Durante décadas, las autoridades han buscado respuestas, pero su paradero sigue siendo un enigma. ¿Cómo pudo este hombre, aparentemente ejemplar, caer en semejante abismo de oscuridad? ¿Qué motivó este brutal crimen y cómo ha logrado eludir la justicia durante tanto tiempo? En este episodio, exploramos los detalles de este impactante caso: los motivos ocultos, los intentos de borrar su pasado y las teorías sobre dónde podría estar Bradford Bishop hoy. Prepárate para adentrarte en una de las historias más inquietantes de crimen y fuga. ¡Escúchame en tu plataforma de podcast favorita y acompáñame en este oscuro viaje hacia los recovecos más perturbadores de la historia! Descubre más en: lacaradelmal.com Sígueme en Instagram: @lacaradelmal @viva_silvita #LaCaraDelMal #TrueCrime #WilliamBradfordBishop #AsesinoFugitivo #Podcast #HorrorReal #CrimenVerdadero #Misterio #HistoriaOscura #InvestigaciónCriminal

 A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit's favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb. Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving"Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter," Miss Americana said. "She's flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I'll help her write there's no way she can fail."Professor Whirter shook his head. "Miss Americana!" he gasped. "The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!"The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A's on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana's sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor's newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana's expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. "Professor," she growled, "my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade's money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?"The Professor's blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. "Alright, alright," he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine."Ready?" Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum."Ready!" Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it."Perfect," she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket."Told you I heard a noise," the tall Pilgrim said to the short one."Heaven defend us!" the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them."Hello," Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. "Stay back, witch!" he said.His companion seemed less sure. "Are you sure she's a witch?" he asked."She's a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?" the short one asked."Hmm," the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. "Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,"He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. "Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!" he said. "No speaking hexes, either!"Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims' long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. "You boys are making a big mistake," she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. "Fortunately I can correct it,"But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker."Miss Americana!" Professor Whirter's voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. "You cannot harm anyone in this period!" he said. "Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!""Oh," Miss Americana gulped. "Right,"She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less."On second thought," she said, "I surrender."She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana's hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain."There," he said, backing up. "The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.""If you say so," Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim's head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. "Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out."Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. "Let's take her to the Elders," he said. "Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her."Miss Americana rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, you oafs!" she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day's large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. 'Who would wear a bikini during this time period?' she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea."We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest," the tall pilgrim said."We think she's a witch," the short one said. "Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?"Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly."I am not a witch!" she boldly declared. "I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan's palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!"'That ought to fool these simpletons,' she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony's current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her."Hmm," Captain Standish said. "If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so," he said."Prove it? And how should I do that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly."If you were a harem girl," Captain Standish said, "then you know how to dance like one. So, show us." He turned his head to the man next to him. "Do you permit this Reverend?" he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana's flesh. But then he nodded. "If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it," he said.Americana gasped. "H-how can you ask me that?" she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. "The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission," he told her. "So if your story is true then prove it." He nodded up to the large table. "You can do it on there, if you would be so kind."Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily."Very well," she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. "But I cannot dance in these!" she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana's manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. "Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!" she said.And with that, she began to dance."H-holy shit," one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe."That's blasphemy," a second beside him murmured. "Also, god fucking damn," he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl."Verily, my friends," he said, "I was so distracted by the witch's performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize' stuff into the fire and, look what happened!"His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster's ear."Did the Lord really condone this, William?" he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. "After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale," he said. "Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up." Taking some of Captain Standish's popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder."Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!" he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. "The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!"At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana's wiggling and grinding bubble-ass."What?!" Governor Bradford gasped. "But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we'll starve! Why have they turned back?!"The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana."When the Sachem's party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one," he said. "The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,"At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock."My ass is not fat!" she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. "Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn't lead to fat!" she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. "What's a stair-masterer?" he asked. "Some sort of Turkish siege engine?"Myles shrugged, puzzled."Never mind that!" Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community's attention off Miss Americana. "This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!""Hmm," said Captain Standish. "What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.""But the whole point is we have no food!" Reverend Brewster pointed out. "What sort of peace offering could we give?""We could give them our guns, or the cannon," Governor Bradford said."And surrender our only military leverage?" Captain Standish scoffed. "I would sooner dump them in the sea!""The Indians are yet heathens," Reverend Brewster pointed out. "They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering' might they be interested in?"For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped."No," she whispered. "No, no, No!" Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. "How, how can you even consider that?!" she hissed. "Aren't you Puritans?! A Godly people?!"Reverend Brewster shook his head."We are," he affirmed. "But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!"Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana's body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them."I know well the meaning of the scarlet A's," Reverend Brewster said. "The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?"Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones upon her gloves, and finally remembered her Hawthorne.'Great Justice! Why didn't I pay more attention in high school lit class?' she thought, marking the first time in all of recorded history that this has occurred.But then she looked back up, and saw that all the Pilgrims were nodding in agreement with their spiritual leader. She swallowed.Suddenly, a sound came over her microphone. "You made the choice to go back into the past," Professor Whirter chided her. He could not quite keep the relish out of his voice, to see the arrogant heroine hoisted upon her own scantily-clad petard. "It is your duty now to make sure history goes forward, no matter what that takes!" He cut the feed again.Americana gasped. But then, squirming before the staring Pilgrims, she bowed her head and then slowly nodded."Very well," she said. "If it is what must happen, then so be it."At this, one of the few surviving female Pilgrims could remain properly silent no longer."Hey!" she snapped, from where she stood in the door of her roughly-built house, an apron over her simple dress and her hands soiled with flour from her long labors to prepare the day's feast. "You might fool them," she said, nodding at the men, "but you can't fool me. Given how you just danced in front of my husband, and that after all this time you still wear that harem attire with relish, don't pretend you don't want every cock you can take you thrice-damned Jezebel!"At this, Miss Americana gasped in shock. But she did not get a chance to respond, for around her the men had already launched into preparing their response, it had to be sent swiftly, before the Native column could get too far. With haste, a runner was sent, vanishing into the woods.In due time, a large party of Native Americans emerged from the forest and began to approach. In the meantime, Miss Americana had gotten down off the table, and now stood under guard nearby, beside and in front of the table of the elders. Miss Americana gulped in trepidation when she saw their numbers, there may have been forty or so adult male Pilgrims left, but there were more than twice that number of Indians approaching, all of them men.At the head of the column, there came a grand and muscular figure with burnished bronze skin, a large head-dress on his head. This, she knew from history and from the whispered comments of the Pilgrim elders just beside her, was Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoag people. It was only the treaty he had signed with the now-late Governor Carver, and its attendant protection from raiding and repeated deliveries of food, that had enabled the meager settlement around her to survive at all. At his side walked another Native man in a mixture of native and Pilgrim garb, from more comments among the elders Americana discerned that this was Tisquantum, better known to most white schoolchildren as 'Squanto', the Pilgrims' tutor and interpreter. Although he normally lived amongst the Pilgrims, he had gone off to help escort Massasoit in for this very important meeting.They were also, she could not help but notice, much more buff and handsome than she expected. As she gazed upon them, a strange tingle ran up and down between her legs, accompanied by a sudden and mysterious abundance of fluids.Behind Massasoit came a column of nearly a hundred Wampanoag warriors; a few came armed, but most were instead carrying great baskets filled with food. Turkeys; fish; pumpkins; maize; squash and cranberries, all in enormous quantity. Five recently felled deer were also carried, each on the shoulders to two strapping Wampanoag hunters. The Pilgrims' own supplies were very meager, more so than they would even admit to in the historical record, and Miss Americana realized that without the Indians' food the First Thanksgiving Feast would instead be replaced by a Great Starvation, and the probable extinction of the Plymouth colony.However, although they had come back, the Native American party remained suspicious. The majority of the column stopped just short of the entrance to the colony, and only Massasoit, Squanto, and a small honor guard of strapping warriors came forward to meet the Elders at their table."Greetings, Squanto," Governor Bradford said, standing. "And holy Greetings to the great king Massasoit, may the blessings of our God be upon him.""Greetings, Governor," Squanto replied. He bowed slightly, and gestured to his muscular boss beside him. "But the Great Sachem's mind is not rested. This one," he said, nodding towards Miss Americana, "and her, impressive, proportions, caused him some distress, that perhaps he had been lied to. I understand this is not the case?"Behind him, one by one, each of the native warriors was leaning out and gaping at Miss Americana in awe. In all their days and travels, they had never seen breasts nearly as enormous as hers, nor a figure quite so bountifully and visibly fertile."Please express our deep apologies for the misunderstanding to the Sachem," Governor Bradford replied. "This woman," he said, gesturing toward where Miss Americana stood chained, "is not a member of our community. We desired to give him a gift worthy of his own generosity, but as you know we have no food to spare. So we," He glanced at the two Pilgrims who had captured Americana, and still held her leash. "Obtained her," he decided to say at last, "so that we could have an appropriate present to reward him for his magnanimity."Squanto turned to Massasoit, and they shared a brief conversation in the Wampanoag tongue, which Americana could not understand, and, she gathered from their nervous squirming, the Pilgrims mostly could not either. Then Squanto turned back to them."I see," he said. He eyed Miss Americana up and down. "The Great Sachem wants to know, exactly what is the nature of this, gift?"Sitting near and behind her, Reverend Brewster looked up at Miss Americana's staggering curves."You reply to that one, Scarlet-Lettered One," he told her. "From what we have seen of your instincts with that body, you should not need words to do so,"Miss Americana blushed deeply. Then, she nodded. Before Massasoit, Squanto, the Elders, the Wampanoag warriors, and the entire Pilgrim community, she walked over to stand before the end of the Pilgrims' great main table. This faced back, directly towards where Massasoit stood, some few meters behind her. Reaching up, blush deepening on her cheeks, she put her hand between her breasts, and with a flick undid her golden star-shaped bra catch. Her huge bra, nevertheless under vast strain to contain her super-human rack, exploded apart, allowing her gigantic breasts to spill forth to jostle and sway before everyone."God, damn!" she heard Myles Standish say. Reverend Brewster, sitting right beside him, was himself too occupied by the dropping of his own jaw to call him on his blasphemy. Even the Pilgrim women appeared breathless at the sight of Americana's giant udders. A great hew and shout rose among the Wampanoag column, pointing and gaping in disbelief. Even Massasoit himself, who to this point had stood tall and still like a bronzed god among lesser men, seemed to be affected. Though he said nothing, as Miss Americana's huge breasts shook before him his eyebrows went up, and Miss Americana herself swallowed, as she noticed what seemed to be the stirrings of something disturbingly large in the front of his deerskin trousers.But she could not stop. Shrugging out of her bra, she turned and laid it on the table before her. Then, reaching back, she slipped her gloved hands into the hips of her panties. She squirmed for a few seconds, as she felt the eyes of every single member of both nations staring at her squirming ass. Then slowly, bending low, she guided her panties up and over her ass, and down her thighs. She slipped one boot out of them, then the other, and left them in a tiny colorful heap between her feet.Then, her lips trembling and her cheeks bright pink under her mask, Miss Americana made the one signal a woman could make that, regardless of language and culture, no man could mis-understand. Bending over, she put both hands on the table. Her voluptuous ass lifted up high and wiggling behind her, she slowly slid her boots wider and wider apart, until her long and mighty legs were spread at a nearly forty-five degree angle to either side. Then lifting her head, she looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes blinking moistly. Her dripping cunt was pointed straight back at Massasoit, gaping slightly to show her tender inner lips between the thicker outer ones, in clear and open invitation.Despite the clarity of Americana's signal, Massasoit still turned and, eyes never leaving the glistening cunt being offered to him, had a brief conversation with Squanto."The Great Sachem wishes to know," Squanto said, afterwards, "whether this gift is for him alone, or for his people as well."The Pilgrim Elders looked at each other.Reverend Brewster shrugged. "As I said," he stated, "at a certain point one must ask, does God care about a few more?"Governor Bradford nodded. "Anyone and everyone can partake of our gift," he said, "as the Chief wishes.""Oh, Great Justice!" Miss Americana whimpered, her eyes blinking in horror. But, knowing she had no choice if she was not to change history, although they trembled, her mighty thighs remained spread wide, and her hands, though they shivered, remained planted flat to the table.Squanto and Massasoit shared another brief conversation. It concluded with what appeared to be a magnanimous gesture by Massasoit, towards Americana's waiting and naked cunt. Squanto nodded, and then stepped forward."The Great Sachem accepts your generous gift," he said. Reaching up, he began to take off his shirt. "As he knows your laws would not permit you to do so yourselves, he wishes that I test her first, to make sure she is worthy of him. He will have her after me, and then the rest of the tribe."Miss Americana let out a tiny whimper of disbelief, as she heard this. But, strangely, the news seemed to have another effect on her cunt, where, between her muscular thighs, her naked slit suddenly seemed to drip with even more gooey juices than before.Unable to watch her fate coming, Americana turned her head away and instead looked down the table. This did little to lessen her humiliation, however, as she now just got to watch the entire Pilgrim community staring up at her, as she stood ready to secure their futures with the much-questioned purity of her gaping cunt.Standing behind her, Squanto took off his pants. This caused an immediate stir among the Pilgrim women."By the Lord," the woman who had called out Miss Americana said, her eyes going hypocritically wide.Another shook her head slowly. "I, I had, suspected," she said. "But I did not realize the true extent of the native's, gifts."Fortunately for the Pilgrim women, their men were too busy staring at the naked Queen of Justice to see where their wives' attention was directed. Meanwhile Miss Americana, her face down and looking at the table, was the only one who could not see what was coming up behind her. So she didn't have any clue what she was in for, until Squanto's dark hands appeared upon her pale curvy hips, and he swung himself up into position."Oh!" Miss Americana gasped, her blue eyes spreading wide, as she realized that, with both of his hands accounted for on her flesh, what she was feeling nuzzling up against her drooling cunt could not be a fist or arm, as she in the initial moment of contact suspected. She gasped deeply, her eyes spreading even wider, as his tip started to part her. She shook her head."Oh, oh my God," she said, as her cunt lips spread wider and wider around the incoming bronze cock-head, until they quivered to either side of the crest of his uncircumcised cock. "I, I didn't know," she whimpered, "that, that Squanto was so hung!" Her voice rose up to a squeal, as he thrust deep inside her."Is," the native interpreter calmly corrected the English-woman on her grammar. Then, taking a tight grip on her hips, he began to slam his massive cock vigorously back and forth inside her drooling slit.Miss Americana shook and squealed, as he nailed her. All around her, the Pilgrim men and women stared in awe. But Americana was not the only one to be affected by the experience for long."Oh, yes!" Squanto announced. Sliding his eager dark hands around from her hips he cupped her enormous breasts from below, and squeezed them, as he continued to nail her gaping cunt with bountiful vigor and abandon. "This, strange woman, is indeed, worthy of the Sachem!" he said. He rolled his head and gasped in awe. "My goodness! She is so tight!" he marveled, squeezing her enormous hooters and stroking their erect tips with his fingers. "And yet, there is an ocean inside her hips!""Very good!" Massasoit announced, revealing that, though he naturally depended on his interpreter for complex and important negotiations, he had had the foresight to learn some rudimentary English himself. He removed his pants and then his loincloth, which caused another stir among the Pilgrim women, as it was revealed that Squanto was not a unique outlier among his people.To be continued in part 2, By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. "In her, shoot fast," Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, "I want in her, my first use to take.""First use?!" Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto's big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn't have long to contemplate that."That is no problem at all, my lord!" Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb."Oh, Great Justice!" Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping."I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem," he said, gesturing towards Americana's cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs."Very good!" Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. "This," he said, squeezing Americana's bulging silky cheeks, "is a very rich gift, indeed!"With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her."Oh, my God," Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief's enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt."That's a sin!" one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives' largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit's great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem's honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana's flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men's faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana's body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana's muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty."Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?" one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana's enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. "I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing."The Pilgrim shook his head. "Nah," he said. "God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it's pretty clear what he made this one for."Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana's giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine's hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips."Well, that and this!" he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow's produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana's belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them."I say Reverend," the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana's continuing show. "Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.""True," the Reverend said. "But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?""There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched," the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. "I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?""Hmm," the Reverend Brewster said. "Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once." As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims' faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. "However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement," he added, "it is not just God who must be consulted."As it happened, the Reverend's own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend's sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each."What say you, Mary?" the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything."Hmm," Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband."I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release," she said. "So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!" She lifted up a finger and glared."Of course," Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana's moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded."There is one other condition," she added, hastily. "We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated." She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. "So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?"The two junior Pilgrims' eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing."Good heavens!" the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips."Is, is that permitted under Heaven's law, Reverend?" the short one asked."Uh," Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. "To be honest," he said, "I'm not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,""Then there should be no problem, should there?" Mary asked testily."I guess not," he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God's forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife's, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives 'peace offering' could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line."Open wide, and say your grace," he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically."Oh, yes!" Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. "T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!" he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster's pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana's marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's' hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation' that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot's open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn't have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives' outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done."Oh!" one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl's' practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary's labia, and felt the Reverend's hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle."Just so you know, Miss Americana," she heard Flag Girl's voice say, excitedly, "the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President." The events she was getting to witness through the professor's Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. "Isn't that cool?!" Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. "Wonderful," she managed to moan into Mary Brewster's cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl's tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims' 'peace offering'.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn't seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it."Shall we clean this mess up?" Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. "No need," he said."It can wait until morning," Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. "Everyone is very tired and content.""Especially her!" Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh."Should we post a guard on her then?" Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head."The Sachem's warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods," Squanto advised. "No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?""Good point," Governor Bradford admitted. "So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?"At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. "Now this, is a good idea!" he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor's house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns squished against the rough-hewn planks of the table, and huge tits rising and falling in the cool Massachusetts night, she could make no other move.At last, everyone nearby had either left or fallen asleep, and the coast was clear. Miss Americana's body began to glow. Her bikini, having been passed around and marveled at by various members of the party before being finally added as decorative elements to the top of the main centerpiece, glowed as well. Her chain, which had been secured to one leg of the table some time ago, did not.With a flash she was gone, leaving the Plymouth colony as mysteriously as she had entered it. The chain, disturbed by the wind of her passage, clanked to the ground. Pilgrims and natives alike would find it empty in the morning and assume that against all odds the 'harem girl' had managed to slip away in the night, and was probably therefore a witch after all. But, having already gotten very full use of her cunt, and since the blame for this could only rest primarily on his own sleepy sentries, Massasoit would not fault the Pilgrims for this and the treaty would not again be endangered. History, such as it was, for better or worse, was saved.Back in the current time, Flag Girl stood by, shivering nervously, as she watched the professor work the controls. A shining form slowly appeared upon the platform, a sprawled and shapely silhouette laid out spread-eagled atop it. Two smaller blobs appeared beside her, for her retrieved bra and panties.Then, with a last flash, the reverse time passage was complete. The machine hummed down, as Miss Americana and her discarded costume lay quivering upon the platform, once more in the flesh."Oh, thank the Goddess!" Flag Girl gasped, rushing forward in relief. Then, halfway to embracing her mistress, she suddenly gasped, skidded to a halt and froze. "Wha-what?" she gasped."Oh, yes," the Professor said. Looking down upon Americana from the control station beside the platform, he scratched his head sheepishly. "Yes, sometimes the time particles have, odd effects like this."Upon the platform Miss Americana groaned. Having recovered some of her strength and energy during the passage back, she lifted her head. She gasped, her curvy naked body rolling back and forth upon the platform, as rivers of semen continued to drip off it. Then, lifting one hand up to hold her head, she raised the other to comfortingly caress her aching belly, and then suddenly let out a loud yelp."Wha- what the?!" Miss Americana gasped.Lifting up her trembling gloved hand, she raised her head and stared down between her breasts in shock. There, rising up before her, which her fingers had unexpectedly encountered, her once-flat belly had already started to swell upwards considerably. She was six or seven months' pregnant, at least."Oh, Gah-Great Justice!" Miss Americana groaned, staring at her own enormous belly in disbelief."What, what happened?" Flag Girl squealed, hands over her lips."As I said," the professor said. Picking up a hand-held bio-scanner, he leaned over and began using it to examine Miss Americana's swollen belly. "The time-stream can have, odd effects sometimes. The exterior didn't age a day, if the still-runny and viable state of all this semen is any indication. The inside, well," He shrugged.Miss Americana shook her head, eyes glued to her impregnated body. As the Professor had stated, despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, streamers of seemingly fresh and gooey cum continued to flow out of her ravaged cunt lips, down onto the platform, spreading around her buxom buns."There's, there's no way my sonic device can deal with this," she whimpered. "Could you get me to Doctor Lingam fast? Maybe, maybe she could still fix this for me.""Maybe," the Professor admitted, still studying his scanner. "The time particles may make that more complicated than expected. But regardless of one's normal feelings on that practice, I think it might be considered a particularly sticky matter in this case, regardless.""What, what are you talking about, Professor?" the Queen of Justice gasped.He pointed at his scanner readout. "The other half of the genetic material in your womb matches no known human bloodline," he said. "Do you know what that means?"Miss Americana shook her head, glaring up at him furiously. "No of course not!" she said. "But since it's god-damn inside of me, just tell me!""The Native American known as Squanto," the Professor said, still looking over his readings with clinical detachment, "he was the one who had the first crack at your cunt, correct? And he was among the longest of those who fucked you, based on what we saw on the viewer, so if anyone's sperm reached your egg first, it was probably his. Correct?""Yes!" Americana said. She squirmed in particular, at the mention of the native interpreter's long cock, as it promptly dragged up deep memories of what it had felt like inside her. "Get to the point!" she said, naming an activity that none of the natives who had fucked her, least of all Squanto himself, had had any trouble at all doing within her."Well," he said. "In history as we previously understood it, the Pawtuxet tribe was entirely wiped out by disease save for one survivor. That would be Squanto. History tells us that he succumbed to European diseases himself shortly after the First Thanksgiving, and fathered no known children, thus making him the very last of his people."Turning it around, he showed her the readings on his bio-scanner."Until now," he said.Americana stared at the readings on the scanner in shock. In addition to all the genetic readings it also revealed to her that Squanto had gotten a jump on repopulating his tribe in another way as well. It wasn't one baby inside her, it was twins. Both boys. She turned and looked at her impregnated belly. Then she looked back at the scanner."Oh, oh shit," she whispered softly.Flag Girl suddenly started bouncing eagerly on her heels, having finally processed with her limited teen brainpower what the adults were talking about. "Oh, yay, Miss A!" she squealed. "You're going to be, like, the step-mother of an entire nation! Isn't that so cool?"Her face shivering in horror and wonder behind her star-spangled patriotic mask, Miss Americana shivered. "Oh, oh my fucking God!" she moaned.Overcome by the implications, she slumped back down onto the platform, her buxom naked body once more too overcome by what was happening to it to rise at all. Quivering against the floor, she shook and gasped in disbelief, as the seed of a vanished people suddenly re-birthed after a four-hundred-year absence continued to germinate eagerly within her patriotic womb.Back in the past, Governor Bradford had passed out in his chair. On a paper beside him, he had already taken some hasty notes about how the day's events could be carefully edited in the colonial records to preserve decorum. Massasoit and Tisquantum, still holding glasses of the governor's best brandy, had wandered to the outskirts of the colony. The escape of the busty peace offering had not yet been discovered. Sitting down on the side on a large rock by the shore they observed the light of the moon on the harbor in which the strangers had first arrived.'Does it ever disturb you,' Massasoit suddenly asked, in the Wampanoag tongue, 'to have to teach these people to live atop the graves of your tribe?''Sometimes' Tisquantum admitted. 'But I must do what is best for my people, and I trust you see that better than me.''I hope that I do,' Massasoit said. 'Being Sachem is not restful. I do sympathize though. The ghosts that dwell here cannot give you much rest either.'Looking out over the shining harbor Tisquantum thought back to playing upon this very rock as a child. He thought about the teenage girl he had courted, upon the hill above, who, as it turned out, he had never gotten to make his wife. He knew what remained of her was under a tree not far away, and visited it occasionally when no one else was watching.But, because it was so recent, he could also not help but remember the peace offering's cunt squeezing tight around his cock as he unleashed his seed into her.'It's alright,' he said. 'They just got a very tiny bit quieter for some reason.'Beside him, Massasoit let out a tiny bark of laughter. 'Yes, I'll bet!' he said.Then, raising their glasses of brandy, they chuckled as they each enjoyed a sip while looking out over the shining sea to the distant horizon.By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.Historical Characters:Massasoit, Sachem (essentially chief-over-other-chiefs) of the Wampanoag Confederacy, which dominated much of the land around the Plymouth settlement. Historically he signed a peace treaty with Governor John Carver in early 1621 that would last for nearly a century. He was also the one who sent Squanto to act as their interpreter and advisor. The land the colony was built on had been occupied by one of the tribes of his confederacy which, save for Squanto, had been entirely wiped out by disease. Without his help, including repeated deliveries of food, it is very unlikely the Plymouth colony would have survived.Tisquantum aka Squanto, last surviving member of the Pawtuxet tribe, whose vacant village the Pilgrims essentially settled on top of. The entire rest of the tribe was wiped out by a sudden outbreak of disease a few years before their arrival, most likely smallpox; Squanto escaped this fate by being kidnapped by an English explorer and sold into slavery in Spain, during which time he learned English. Eventually returning to his native land he was sent by Massasoit as the ambassador to his new white allies, and according to legend assisted the Pilgrims greatly in learning to survive in their new home. In actual history he would die of disease in 1622, a year after the so-called 'First Thanksgiving', leaving no known issue.William Brewster, though in reality the English Dissenters were a relatively egalitarian lot that rejected formal religious authorities, William Brewster is generally recognized as the chief spiritual leader and authority of the early colony. I just titled him 'Reverend' for simplicity's sake. Like many of the Pilgrims William Brewster has tens of thousands of known latter-day or modern-day descendants, but his list is particularly impressive including John Foster Dulles, Richard Gere, Katherine Hepburn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sarah Palin, Nelson Rockefeller, Supreme Court Justice David Souter, Commodore Matthew Perry (the dude who 'opened' Japan), Robert Noyce (the inventor of the integrated circuit), World War 2 Admiral William 'Bull' Halsey, and President Zachary Taylor.Mary Brewster, William Brewster's wife and mother of his children. I have no historical information that Mary Brewster had the slightest interest in receiving cunnilingus from other women; on the other hand I also don't have any hard information that she didn't.Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster: no, really, these are the actual names William Brewster gave his sons. Also named his daughter 'Fear'.William Bradford, second Governor of the Plymouth Colony, after the first governor John Carver died of disease early in 1621. His journal, titled 'Of Plymouth Plantation,' is one of the primary historical sources on the early colony, including the First Thanksgiving. His descendants include Alec Baldwin, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Reeve, and Noah Webster, of 'Webster's Dictionary' fame. Unfortunately, William Bradford named his sons boring things like 'William Jr.' and 'Joseph' instead of the bat-shit awesome stuff William Brewster came up with, so I didn't give them any cameos.Myles Standish, hired by the Merchant Adventurers (non-religious monetary backers of the Mayflower expedition who were in it for potential trading profits) as a military advisor; Myles was not a Puritan, but was instead a career military man and veteran of warfare against the Spanish in Holland. However, he still was one of the signatories to the Mayflower Compact.

 A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit's favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb. Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving"Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter," Miss Americana said. "She's flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I'll help her write there's no way she can fail."Professor Whirter shook his head. "Miss Americana!" he gasped. "The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!"The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A's on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana's sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor's newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana's expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. "Professor," she growled, "my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade's money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?"The Professor's blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. "Alright, alright," he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine."Ready?" Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum."Ready!" Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it."Perfect," she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket."Told you I heard a noise," the tall Pilgrim said to the short one."Heaven defend us!" the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them."Hello," Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. "Stay back, witch!" he said.His companion seemed less sure. "Are you sure she's a witch?" he asked."She's a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?" the short one asked."Hmm," the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. "Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,"He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. "Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!" he said. "No speaking hexes, either!"Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims' long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. "You boys are making a big mistake," she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. "Fortunately I can correct it,"But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker."Miss Americana!" Professor Whirter's voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. "You cannot harm anyone in this period!" he said. "Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!""Oh," Miss Americana gulped. "Right,"She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less."On second thought," she said, "I surrender."She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana's hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain."There," he said, backing up. "The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.""If you say so," Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim's head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. "Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out."Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. "Let's take her to the Elders," he said. "Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her."Miss Americana rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, you oafs!" she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day's large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. 'Who would wear a bikini during this time period?' she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea."We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest," the tall pilgrim said."We think she's a witch," the short one said. "Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?"Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly."I am not a witch!" she boldly declared. "I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan's palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!"'That ought to fool these simpletons,' she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony's current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her."Hmm," Captain Standish said. "If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so," he said."Prove it? And how should I do that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly."If you were a harem girl," Captain Standish said, "then you know how to dance like one. So, show us." He turned his head to the man next to him. "Do you permit this Reverend?" he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana's flesh. But then he nodded. "If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it," he said.Americana gasped. "H-how can you ask me that?" she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. "The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission," he told her. "So if your story is true then prove it." He nodded up to the large table. "You can do it on there, if you would be so kind."Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily."Very well," she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. "But I cannot dance in these!" she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana's manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. "Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!" she said.And with that, she began to dance."H-holy shit," one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe."That's blasphemy," a second beside him murmured. "Also, god fucking damn," he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl."Verily, my friends," he said, "I was so distracted by the witch's performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize' stuff into the fire and, look what happened!"His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster's ear."Did the Lord really condone this, William?" he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. "After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale," he said. "Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up." Taking some of Captain Standish's popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder."Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!" he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. "The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!"At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana's wiggling and grinding bubble-ass."What?!" Governor Bradford gasped. "But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we'll starve! Why have they turned back?!"The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana."When the Sachem's party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one," he said. "The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,"At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock."My ass is not fat!" she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. "Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn't lead to fat!" she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. "What's a stair-masterer?" he asked. "Some sort of Turkish siege engine?"Myles shrugged, puzzled."Never mind that!" Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community's attention off Miss Americana. "This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!""Hmm," said Captain Standish. "What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.""But the whole point is we have no food!" Reverend Brewster pointed out. "What sort of peace offering could we give?""We could give them our guns, or the cannon," Governor Bradford said."And surrender our only military leverage?" Captain Standish scoffed. "I would sooner dump them in the sea!""The Indians are yet heathens," Reverend Brewster pointed out. "They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering' might they be interested in?"For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped."No," she whispered. "No, no, No!" Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. "How, how can you even consider that?!" she hissed. "Aren't you Puritans?! A Godly people?!"Reverend Brewster shook his head."We are," he affirmed. "But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!"Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana's body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them."I know well the meaning of the scarlet A's," Reverend Brewster said. "The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?"Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones upon her gloves, and finally remembered her Hawthorne.'Great Justice! Why didn't I pay more attention in high school lit class?' she thought, marking the first time in all of recorded history that this has occurred.But then she looked back up, and saw that all the Pilgrims were nodding in agreement with their spiritual leader. She swallowed.Suddenly, a sound came over her microphone. "You made the choice to go back into the past," Professor Whirter chided her. He could not quite keep the relish out of his voice, to see the arrogant heroine hoisted upon her own scantily-clad petard. "It is your duty now to make sure history goes forward, no matter what that takes!" He cut the feed again.Americana gasped. But then, squirming before the staring Pilgrims, she bowed her head and then slowly nodded."Very well," she said. "If it is what must happen, then so be it."At this, one of the few surviving female Pilgrims could remain properly silent no longer."Hey!" she snapped, from where she stood in the door of her roughly-built house, an apron over her simple dress and her hands soiled with flour from her long labors to prepare the day's feast. "You might fool them," she said, nodding at the men, "but you can't fool me. Given how you just danced in front of my husband, and that after all this time you still wear that harem attire with relish, don't pretend you don't want every cock you can take you thrice-damned Jezebel!"At this, Miss Americana gasped in shock. But she did not get a chance to respond, for around her the men had already launched into preparing their response, it had to be sent swiftly, before the Native column could get too far. With haste, a runner was sent, vanishing into the woods.In due time, a large party of Native Americans emerged from the forest and began to approach. In the meantime, Miss Americana had gotten down off the table, and now stood under guard nearby, beside and in front of the table of the elders. Miss Americana gulped in trepidation when she saw their numbers, there may have been forty or so adult male Pilgrims left, but there were more than twice that number of Indians approaching, all of them men.At the head of the column, there came a grand and muscular figure with burnished bronze skin, a large head-dress on his head. This, she knew from history and from the whispered comments of the Pilgrim elders just beside her, was Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoag people. It was only the treaty he had signed with the now-late Governor Carver, and its attendant protection from raiding and repeated deliveries of food, that had enabled the meager settlement around her to survive at all. At his side walked another Native man in a mixture of native and Pilgrim garb, from more comments among the elders Americana discerned that this was Tisquantum, better known to most white schoolchildren as 'Squanto', the Pilgrims' tutor and interpreter. Although he normally lived amongst the Pilgrims, he had gone off to help escort Massasoit in for this very important meeting.They were also, she could not help but notice, much more buff and handsome than she expected. As she gazed upon them, a strange tingle ran up and down between her legs, accompanied by a sudden and mysterious abundance of fluids.Behind Massasoit came a column of nearly a hundred Wampanoag warriors; a few came armed, but most were instead carrying great baskets filled with food. Turkeys; fish; pumpkins; maize; squash and cranberries, all in enormous quantity. Five recently felled deer were also carried, each on the shoulders to two strapping Wampanoag hunters. The Pilgrims' own supplies were very meager, more so than they would even admit to in the historical record, and Miss Americana realized that without the Indians' food the First Thanksgiving Feast would instead be replaced by a Great Starvation, and the probable extinction of the Plymouth colony.However, although they had come back, the Native American party remained suspicious. The majority of the column stopped just short of the entrance to the colony, and only Massasoit, Squanto, and a small honor guard of strapping warriors came forward to meet the Elders at their table."Greetings, Squanto," Governor Bradford said, standing. "And holy Greetings to the great king Massasoit, may the blessings of our God be upon him.""Greetings, Governor," Squanto replied. He bowed slightly, and gestured to his muscular boss beside him. "But the Great Sachem's mind is not rested. This one," he said, nodding towards Miss Americana, "and her, impressive, proportions, caused him some distress, that perhaps he had been lied to. I understand this is not the case?"Behind him, one by one, each of the native warriors was leaning out and gaping at Miss Americana in awe. In all their days and travels, they had never seen breasts nearly as enormous as hers, nor a figure quite so bountifully and visibly fertile."Please express our deep apologies for the misunderstanding to the Sachem," Governor Bradford replied. "This woman," he said, gesturing toward where Miss Americana stood chained, "is not a member of our community. We desired to give him a gift worthy of his own generosity, but as you know we have no food to spare. So we," He glanced at the two Pilgrims who had captured Americana, and still held her leash. "Obtained her," he decided to say at last, "so that we could have an appropriate present to reward him for his magnanimity."Squanto turned to Massasoit, and they shared a brief conversation in the Wampanoag tongue, which Americana could not understand, and, she gathered from their nervous squirming, the Pilgrims mostly could not either. Then Squanto turned back to them."I see," he said. He eyed Miss Americana up and down. "The Great Sachem wants to know, exactly what is the nature of this, gift?"Sitting near and behind her, Reverend Brewster looked up at Miss Americana's staggering curves."You reply to that one, Scarlet-Lettered One," he told her. "From what we have seen of your instincts with that body, you should not need words to do so,"Miss Americana blushed deeply. Then, she nodded. Before Massasoit, Squanto, the Elders, the Wampanoag warriors, and the entire Pilgrim community, she walked over to stand before the end of the Pilgrims' great main table. This faced back, directly towards where Massasoit stood, some few meters behind her. Reaching up, blush deepening on her cheeks, she put her hand between her breasts, and with a flick undid her golden star-shaped bra catch. Her huge bra, nevertheless under vast strain to contain her super-human rack, exploded apart, allowing her gigantic breasts to spill forth to jostle and sway before everyone."God, damn!" she heard Myles Standish say. Reverend Brewster, sitting right beside him, was himself too occupied by the dropping of his own jaw to call him on his blasphemy. Even the Pilgrim women appeared breathless at the sight of Americana's giant udders. A great hew and shout rose among the Wampanoag column, pointing and gaping in disbelief. Even Massasoit himself, who to this point had stood tall and still like a bronzed god among lesser men, seemed to be affected. Though he said nothing, as Miss Americana's huge breasts shook before him his eyebrows went up, and Miss Americana herself swallowed, as she noticed what seemed to be the stirrings of something disturbingly large in the front of his deerskin trousers.But she could not stop. Shrugging out of her bra, she turned and laid it on the table before her. Then, reaching back, she slipped her gloved hands into the hips of her panties. She squirmed for a few seconds, as she felt the eyes of every single member of both nations staring at her squirming ass. Then slowly, bending low, she guided her panties up and over her ass, and down her thighs. She slipped one boot out of them, then the other, and left them in a tiny colorful heap between her feet.Then, her lips trembling and her cheeks bright pink under her mask, Miss Americana made the one signal a woman could make that, regardless of language and culture, no man could mis-understand. Bending over, she put both hands on the table. Her voluptuous ass lifted up high and wiggling behind her, she slowly slid her boots wider and wider apart, until her long and mighty legs were spread at a nearly forty-five degree angle to either side. Then lifting her head, she looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes blinking moistly. Her dripping cunt was pointed straight back at Massasoit, gaping slightly to show her tender inner lips between the thicker outer ones, in clear and open invitation.Despite the clarity of Americana's signal, Massasoit still turned and, eyes never leaving the glistening cunt being offered to him, had a brief conversation with Squanto."The Great Sachem wishes to know," Squanto said, afterwards, "whether this gift is for him alone, or for his people as well."The Pilgrim Elders looked at each other.Reverend Brewster shrugged. "As I said," he stated, "at a certain point one must ask, does God care about a few more?"Governor Bradford nodded. "Anyone and everyone can partake of our gift," he said, "as the Chief wishes.""Oh, Great Justice!" Miss Americana whimpered, her eyes blinking in horror. But, knowing she had no choice if she was not to change history, although they trembled, her mighty thighs remained spread wide, and her hands, though they shivered, remained planted flat to the table.Squanto and Massasoit shared another brief conversation. It concluded with what appeared to be a magnanimous gesture by Massasoit, towards Americana's waiting and naked cunt. Squanto nodded, and then stepped forward."The Great Sachem accepts your generous gift," he said. Reaching up, he began to take off his shirt. "As he knows your laws would not permit you to do so yourselves, he wishes that I test her first, to make sure she is worthy of him. He will have her after me, and then the rest of the tribe."Miss Americana let out a tiny whimper of disbelief, as she heard this. But, strangely, the news seemed to have another effect on her cunt, where, between her muscular thighs, her naked slit suddenly seemed to drip with even more gooey juices than before.Unable to watch her fate coming, Americana turned her head away and instead looked down the table. This did little to lessen her humiliation, however, as she now just got to watch the entire Pilgrim community staring up at her, as she stood ready to secure their futures with the much-questioned purity of her gaping cunt.Standing behind her, Squanto took off his pants. This caused an immediate stir among the Pilgrim women."By the Lord," the woman who had called out Miss Americana said, her eyes going hypocritically wide.Another shook her head slowly. "I, I had, suspected," she said. "But I did not realize the true extent of the native's, gifts."Fortunately for the Pilgrim women, their men were too busy staring at the naked Queen of Justice to see where their wives' attention was directed. Meanwhile Miss Americana, her face down and looking at the table, was the only one who could not see what was coming up behind her. So she didn't have any clue what she was in for, until Squanto's dark hands appeared upon her pale curvy hips, and he swung himself up into position."Oh!" Miss Americana gasped, her blue eyes spreading wide, as she realized that, with both of his hands accounted for on her flesh, what she was feeling nuzzling up against her drooling cunt could not be a fist or arm, as she in the initial moment of contact suspected. She gasped deeply, her eyes spreading even wider, as his tip started to part her. She shook her head."Oh, oh my God," she said, as her cunt lips spread wider and wider around the incoming bronze cock-head, until they quivered to either side of the crest of his uncircumcised cock. "I, I didn't know," she whimpered, "that, that Squanto was so hung!" Her voice rose up to a squeal, as he thrust deep inside her."Is," the native interpreter calmly corrected the English-woman on her grammar. Then, taking a tight grip on her hips, he began to slam his massive cock vigorously back and forth inside her drooling slit.Miss Americana shook and squealed, as he nailed her. All around her, the Pilgrim men and women stared in awe. But Americana was not the only one to be affected by the experience for long."Oh, yes!" Squanto announced. Sliding his eager dark hands around from her hips he cupped her enormous breasts from below, and squeezed them, as he continued to nail her gaping cunt with bountiful vigor and abandon. "This, strange woman, is indeed, worthy of the Sachem!" he said. He rolled his head and gasped in awe. "My goodness! She is so tight!" he marveled, squeezing her enormous hooters and stroking their erect tips with his fingers. "And yet, there is an ocean inside her hips!""Very good!" Massasoit announced, revealing that, though he naturally depended on his interpreter for complex and important negotiations, he had had the foresight to learn some rudimentary English himself. He removed his pants and then his loincloth, which caused another stir among the Pilgrim women, as it was revealed that Squanto was not a unique outlier among his people.To be continued in part 2, By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. "In her, shoot fast," Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, "I want in her, my first use to take.""First use?!" Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto's big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn't have long to contemplate that."That is no problem at all, my lord!" Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb."Oh, Great Justice!" Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping."I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem," he said, gesturing towards Americana's cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs."Very good!" Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. "This," he said, squeezing Americana's bulging silky cheeks, "is a very rich gift, indeed!"With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her."Oh, my God," Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief's enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt."That's a sin!" one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives' largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit's great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem's honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana's flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men's faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana's body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana's muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty."Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?" one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana's enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. "I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing."The Pilgrim shook his head. "Nah," he said. "God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it's pretty clear what he made this one for."Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana's giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine's hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips."Well, that and this!" he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow's produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana's belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them."I say Reverend," the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana's continuing show. "Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.""True," the Reverend said. "But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?""There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched," the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. "I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?""Hmm," the Reverend Brewster said. "Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once." As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims' faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. "However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement," he added, "it is not just God who must be consulted."As it happened, the Reverend's own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend's sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each."What say you, Mary?" the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything."Hmm," Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband."I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release," she said. "So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!" She lifted up a finger and glared."Of course," Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana's moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded."There is one other condition," she added, hastily. "We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated." She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. "So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?"The two junior Pilgrims' eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing."Good heavens!" the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips."Is, is that permitted under Heaven's law, Reverend?" the short one asked."Uh," Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. "To be honest," he said, "I'm not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,""Then there should be no problem, should there?" Mary asked testily."I guess not," he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God's forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife's, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives 'peace offering' could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line."Open wide, and say your grace," he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically."Oh, yes!" Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. "T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!" he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster's pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana's marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's' hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation' that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot's open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn't have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives' outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done."Oh!" one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl's' practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary's labia, and felt the Reverend's hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle."Just so you know, Miss Americana," she heard Flag Girl's voice say, excitedly, "the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President." The events she was getting to witness through the professor's Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. "Isn't that cool?!" Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. "Wonderful," she managed to moan into Mary Brewster's cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl's tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims' 'peace offering'.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn't seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it."Shall we clean this mess up?" Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. "No need," he said."It can wait until morning," Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. "Everyone is very tired and content.""Especially her!" Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh."Should we post a guard on her then?" Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head."The Sachem's warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods," Squanto advised. "No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?""Good point," Governor Bradford admitted. "So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?"At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. "Now this, is a good idea!" he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor's house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns squished against the rough-hewn planks of the table, and huge tits rising and falling in the cool Massachusetts night, she could make no other move.At last, everyone nearby had either left or fallen asleep, and the coast was clear. Miss Americana's body began to glow. Her bikini, having been passed around and marveled at by various members of the party before being finally added as decorative elements to the top of the main centerpiece, glowed as well. Her chain, which had been secured to one leg of the table some time ago, did not.With a flash she was gone, leaving the Plymouth colony as mysteriously as she had entered it. The chain, disturbed by the wind of her passage, clanked to the ground. Pilgrims and natives alike would find it empty in the morning and assume that against all odds the 'harem girl' had managed to slip away in the night, and was probably therefore a witch after all. But, having already gotten very full use of her cunt, and since the blame for this could only rest primarily on his own sleepy sentries, Massasoit would not fault the Pilgrims for this and the treaty would not again be endangered. History, such as it was, for better or worse, was saved.Back in the current time, Flag Girl stood by, shivering nervously, as she watched the professor work the controls. A shining form slowly appeared upon the platform, a sprawled and shapely silhouette laid out spread-eagled atop it. Two smaller blobs appeared beside her, for her retrieved bra and panties.Then, with a last flash, the reverse time passage was complete. The machine hummed down, as Miss Americana and her discarded costume lay quivering upon the platform, once more in the flesh."Oh, thank the Goddess!" Flag Girl gasped, rushing forward in relief. Then, halfway to embracing her mistress, she suddenly gasped, skidded to a halt and froze. "Wha-what?" she gasped."Oh, yes," the Professor said. Looking down upon Americana from the control station beside the platform, he scratched his head sheepishly. "Yes, sometimes the time particles have, odd effects like this."Upon the platform Miss Americana groaned. Having recovered some of her strength and energy during the passage back, she lifted her head. She gasped, her curvy naked body rolling back and forth upon the platform, as rivers of semen continued to drip off it. Then, lifting one hand up to hold her head, she raised the other to comfortingly caress her aching belly, and then suddenly let out a loud yelp."Wha- what the?!" Miss Americana gasped.Lifting up her trembling gloved hand, she raised her head and stared down between her breasts in shock. There, rising up before her, which her fingers had unexpectedly encountered, her once-flat belly had already started to swell upwards considerably. She was six or seven months' pregnant, at least."Oh, Gah-Great Justice!" Miss Americana groaned, staring at her own enormous belly in disbelief."What, what happened?" Flag Girl squealed, hands over her lips."As I said," the professor said. Picking up a hand-held bio-scanner, he leaned over and began using it to examine Miss Americana's swollen belly. "The time-stream can have, odd effects sometimes. The exterior didn't age a day, if the still-runny and viable state of all this semen is any indication. The inside, well," He shrugged.Miss Americana shook her head, eyes glued to her impregnated body. As the Professor had stated, despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, streamers of seemingly fresh and gooey cum continued to flow out of her ravaged cunt lips, down onto the platform, spreading around her buxom buns."There's, there's no way my sonic device can deal with this," she whimpered. "Could you get me to Doctor Lingam fast? Maybe, maybe she could still fix this for me.""Maybe," the Professor admitted, still studying his scanner. "The time particles may make that more complicated than expected. But regardless of one's normal feelings on that practice, I think it might be considered a particularly sticky matter in this case, regardless.""What, what are you talking about, Professor?" the Queen of Justice gasped.He pointed at his scanner readout. "The other half of the genetic material in your womb matches no known human bloodline," he said. "Do you know what that means?"Miss Americana shook her head, glaring up at him furiously. "No of course not!" she said. "But since it's god-damn inside of me, just tell me!""The Native American known as Squanto," the Professor said, still looking over his readings with clinical detachment, "he was the one who had the first crack at your cunt, correct? And he was among the longest of those who fucked you, based on what we saw on the viewer, so if anyone's sperm reached your egg first, it was probably his. Correct?""Yes!" Americana said. She squirmed in particular, at the mention of the native interpreter's long cock, as it promptly dragged up deep memories of what it had felt like inside her. "Get to the point!" she said, naming an activity that none of the natives who had fucked her, least of all Squanto himself, had had any trouble at all doing within her."Well," he said. "In history as we previously understood it, the Pawtuxet tribe was entirely wiped out by disease save for one survivor. That would be Squanto. History tells us that he succumbed to European diseases himself shortly after the First Thanksgiving, and fathered no known children, thus making him the very last of his people."Turning it around, he showed her the readings on his bio-scanner."Until now," he said.Americana stared at the readings on the scanner in shock. In addition to all the genetic readings it also revealed to her that Squanto had gotten a jump on repopulating his tribe in another way as well. It wasn't one baby inside her, it was twins. Both boys. She turned and looked at her impregnated belly. Then she looked back at the scanner."Oh, oh shit," she whispered softly.Flag Girl suddenly started bouncing eagerly on her heels, having finally processed with her limited teen brainpower what the adults were talking about. "Oh, yay, Miss A!" she squealed. "You're going to be, like, the step-mother of an entire nation! Isn't that so cool?"Her face shivering in horror and wonder behind her star-spangled patriotic mask, Miss Americana shivered. "Oh, oh my fucking God!" she moaned.Overcome by the implications, she slumped back down onto the platform, her buxom naked body once more too overcome by what was happening to it to rise at all. Quivering against the floor, she shook and gasped in disbelief, as the seed of a vanished people suddenly re-birthed after a four-hundred-year absence continued to germinate eagerly within her patriotic womb.Back in the past, Governor Bradford had passed out in his chair. On a paper beside him, he had already taken some hasty notes about how the day's events could be carefully edited in the colonial records to preserve decorum. Massasoit and Tisquantum, still holding glasses of the governor's best brandy, had wandered to the outskirts of the colony. The escape of the busty peace offering had not yet been discovered. Sitting down on the side on a large rock by the shore they observed the light of the moon on the harbor in which the strangers had first arrived.'Does it ever disturb you,' Massasoit suddenly asked, in the Wampanoag tongue, 'to have to teach these people to live atop the graves of your tribe?''Sometimes' Tisquantum admitted. 'But I must do what is best for my people, and I trust you see that better than me.''I hope that I do,' Massasoit said. 'Being Sachem is not restful. I do sympathize though. The ghosts that dwell here cannot give you much rest either.'Looking out over the shining harbor Tisquantum thought back to playing upon this very rock as a child. He thought about the teenage girl he had courted, upon the hill above, who, as it turned out, he had never gotten to make his wife. He knew what remained of her was under a tree not far away, and visited it occasionally when no one else was watching.But, because it was so recent, he could also not help but remember the peace offering's cunt squeezing tight around his cock as he unleashed his seed into her.'It's alright,' he said. 'They just got a very tiny bit quieter for some reason.'Beside him, Massasoit let out a tiny bark of laughter. 'Yes, I'll bet!' he said.Then, raising their glasses of brandy, they chuckled as they each enjoyed a sip while looking out over the shining sea to the distant horizon.By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.Historical Characters:Massasoit, Sachem (essentially chief-over-other-chiefs) of the Wampanoag Confederacy, which dominated much of the land around the Plymouth settlement. Historically he signed a peace treaty with Governor John Carver in early 1621 that would last for nearly a century. He was also the one who sent Squanto to act as their interpreter and advisor. The land the colony was built on had been occupied by one of the tribes of his confederacy which, save for Squanto, had been entirely wiped out by disease. Without his help, including repeated deliveries of food, it is very unlikely the Plymouth colony would have survived.Tisquantum aka Squanto, last surviving member of the Pawtuxet tribe, whose vacant village the Pilgrims essentially settled on top of. The entire rest of the tribe was wiped out by a sudden outbreak of disease a few years before their arrival, most likely smallpox; Squanto escaped this fate by being kidnapped by an English explorer and sold into slavery in Spain, during which time he learned English. Eventually returning to his native land he was sent by Massasoit as the ambassador to his new white allies, and according to legend assisted the Pilgrims greatly in learning to survive in their new home. In actual history he would die of disease in 1622, a year after the so-called 'First Thanksgiving', leaving no known issue.William Brewster, though in reality the English Dissenters were a relatively egalitarian lot that rejected formal religious authorities, William Brewster is generally recognized as the chief spiritual leader and authority of the early colony. I just titled him 'Reverend' for simplicity's sake. Like many of the Pilgrims William Brewster has tens of thousands of known latter-day or modern-day descendants, but his list is particularly impressive including John Foster Dulles, Richard Gere, Katherine Hepburn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sarah Palin, Nelson Rockefeller, Supreme Court Justice David Souter, Commodore Matthew Perry (the dude who 'opened' Japan), Robert Noyce (the inventor of the integrated circuit), World War 2 Admiral William 'Bull' Halsey, and President Zachary Taylor.Mary Brewster, William Brewster's wife and mother of his children. I have no historical information that Mary Brewster had the slightest interest in receiving cunnilingus from other women; on the other hand I also don't have any hard information that she didn't.Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster: no, really, these are the actual names William Brewster gave his sons. Also named his daughter 'Fear'.William Bradford, second Governor of the Plymouth Colony, after the first governor John Carver died of disease early in 1621. His journal, titled 'Of Plymouth Plantation,' is one of the primary historical sources on the early colony, including the First Thanksgiving. His descendants include Alec Baldwin, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Reeve, and Noah Webster, of 'Webster's Dictionary' fame. Unfortunately, William Bradford named his sons boring things like 'William Jr.' and 'Joseph' instead of the bat-shit awesome stuff William Brewster came up with, so I didn't give them any cameos.Myles Standish, hired by the Merchant Adventurers (non-religious monetary backers of the Mayflower expedition who were in it for potential trading profits) as a military advisor; Myles was not a Puritan, but was instead a career military man and veteran of warfare against the Spanish in Holland. However, he still was one of the signatories to the Mayflower Compact.

This Black Friday edition of the Daily Detail includes segments fromAudible Books of William Bradford's "Plymouth Plantation"  with narration from Matthew McAuliffeand audio of Eric Metaxas from the "1819 News Podcast"

Today, on The David Knight Show, Gardner Goldsmith (from MRCTV and LibertyConspiracy.com) fills in for David and digs into the breaking news that Donald Trump has named Dr. Jay Battacharya to be his nominee to become the next Director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH). While this might see the doctor bring about some quick changes to the staff and short-term 'policy' positions of the NIH, it does not address bigger, more fundamental matters. For Mr. Trump, the focus is supposed to be on the US Constitution, which does not allow the existence of the NIH on a federal level. Dr. Battachrya validly has cited the federal government for censoring him by pressuring social media, and it is a short-term positive that he can more widely spread his message of opposition to the lockdowns and try to reform the NIH. But the NIH requires complete elimination, not merely reform. Also in Hour One, Gard discusses the philosophical axiom that all political systems are draws from personal autonomy and one's own, God-given, right to adjudge for oneself what helps or hinders his life and efforts, his safety or his ability to prosper. This not only applies to medical health, which politicians, bureaucrats, and pop media figures oft mislabel 'public' health (there is only individual health, and citing a 'public' that the government fabulates is a negation of the individual), it also applies to information, and to so-called 'police protection.' Soon in Hour One, Gardner shows us how YouTube continues to stifle free speech, ostensibly to protect the 'public health,' as well known medical commentator and researcher Dr. John Campbell notes he has just been demonetized and warned by YT to stop talking about some of the alarming information he has offered re the mRNA jabs.In Hour Two, Gardner studies the new reports of FEMA mismanagement in storm ravaged areas of North Carolina while Joe Biden attempts to send tens of billions of dollars more to Ukraine. The contrast is stark, it mirrors the UK government sending money and weapons to Ukraine while, as reporter and comedian Chay Bowes notes in a clip Gard shows, "Pensioners are lacking heat at home," and it also allows us to note that FEMA not only is unconstitutional, but it runs counter to the original philosophy supporting the Founders and the US Constitution. Gard also covers the news of a potential ceasefire in Lebanon, and then welcomes Jason Barker, creator of The Knights of the Storm (here is a link: Podcast | The Knights Of The Storm) and host of The Foxhole podcast. Jason and Gard delve into the tradition of Thanksgiving, local connections, the messages of Christ, and more, as we prepare for the traditional American holiday on Thursday.In Hour Three, Gardner explores the history of Thanksgiving, from the Pilgrims leaving England to live in free-market Holland, to them getting investors/sponsors to travel to the New World, to the lesson they and Plymouth Plantation leader William Bradford learned about the destructive nature of collectivism and the liberating nature of private property respect. That, and news about an expansion of Social Security payments to people who never paid in to it, plus a breaking story about Kamala Harris' campaign paying half-a-million dollars to Al Sharpton's non-profit, juuuust prior to Sharpton interviewing Harris for MSNBC.Thank you, all, for viewing and sharing, and please visit Jason on X at @RealJasonBarker and join Gard for Liberty Conspiracy each M-F at 6 PM eastern, on Rumble, Rokfin, and his X @gardgoldsmith and visit Gardner's Substack, here: (100) Gardner Goldsmith | SubstackIf you would like to support the show and our family please consider subscribing monthly here: SubscribeStar https://www.subscribestar.com/the-david-knight-show Or you can send a donation throughMail: David Knight POB 994 Kodak, TN 37764Zelle: @DavidKnightShow@protonmail.comCash App at: $davidknightshowBTC to: bc1qkuec29hkuye4xse9unh7nptvu3y9qmv24vanh7 Money should have intrinsic value AND transactional privacy: Go to DavidKnight.gold for great deals on physical gold/silver For 10% off Gerald Celente's prescient Trends Journal, go to TrendsJournal.com and enter the code KNIGHTBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-david-knight-show--2653468/support.

Today, on The David Knight Show, Gardner Goldsmith (from MRCTV and LibertyConspiracy.com) fills in for David and digs into the breaking news that Donald Trump has named Dr. Jay Battacharya to be his nominee to become the next Director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH). While this might see the doctor bring about some quick changes to the staff and short-term 'policy' positions of the NIH, it does not address bigger, more fundamental matters. For Mr. Trump, the focus is supposed to be on the US Constitution, which does not allow the existence of the NIH on a federal level. Dr. Battachrya validly has cited the federal government for censoring him by pressuring social media, and it is a short-term positive that he can more widely spread his message of opposition to the lockdowns and try to reform the NIH. But the NIH requires complete elimination, not merely reform. Also in Hour One, Gard discusses the philosophical axiom that all political systems are draws from personal autonomy and one's own, God-given, right to adjudge for oneself what helps or hinders his life and efforts, his safety or his ability to prosper. This not only applies to medical health, which politicians, bureaucrats, and pop media figures oft mislabel 'public' health (there is only individual health, and citing a 'public' that the government fabulates is a negation of the individual), it also applies to information, and to so-called 'police protection.' Soon in Hour One, Gardner shows us how YouTube continues to stifle free speech, ostensibly to protect the 'public health,' as well known medical commentator and researcher Dr. John Campbell notes he has just been demonetized and warned by YT to stop talking about some of the alarming information he has offered re the mRNA jabs.In Hour Two, Gardner studies the new reports of FEMA mismanagement in storm ravaged areas of North Carolina while Joe Biden attempts to send tens of billions of dollars more to Ukraine. The contrast is stark, it mirrors the UK government sending money and weapons to Ukraine while, as reporter and comedian Chay Bowes notes in a clip Gard shows, "Pensioners are lacking heat at home," and it also allows us to note that FEMA not only is unconstitutional, but it runs counter to the original philosophy supporting the Founders and the US Constitution. Gard also covers the news of a potential ceasefire in Lebanon, and then welcomes Jason Barker, creator of The Knights of the Storm (here is a link: Podcast | The Knights Of The Storm) and host of The Foxhole podcast. Jason and Gard delve into the tradition of Thanksgiving, local connections, the messages of Christ, and more, as we prepare for the traditional American holiday on Thursday.In Hour Three, Gardner explores the history of Thanksgiving, from the Pilgrims leaving England to live in free-market Holland, to them getting investors/sponsors to travel to the New World, to the lesson they and Plymouth Plantation leader William Bradford learned about the destructive nature of collectivism and the liberating nature of private property respect. That, and news about an expansion of Social Security payments to people who never paid in to it, plus a breaking story about Kamala Harris' campaign paying half-a-million dollars to Al Sharpton's non-profit, juuuust prior to Sharpton interviewing Harris for MSNBC.Thank you, all, for viewing and sharing, and please visit Jason on X at @RealJasonBarker and join Gard for Liberty Conspiracy each M-F at 6 PM eastern, on Rumble, Rokfin, and his X @gardgoldsmith and visit Gardner's Substack, here: (100) Gardner Goldsmith | SubstackIf you would like to support the show and our family please consider subscribing monthly here: SubscribeStar https://www.subscribestar.com/the-david-knight-show Or you can send a donation throughMail: David Knight POB 994 Kodak, TN 37764Zelle: @DavidKnightShow@protonmail.comCash App at: $davidknightshowBTC to: bc1qkuec29hkuye4xse9unh7nptvu3y9qmv24vanh7 Money should have intrinsic value AND transactional privacy: Go to DavidKnight.gold for great deals on physical gold/silver For 10% off Gerald Celente's prescient Trends Journal, go to TrendsJournal.com and enter the code KNIGHTBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-real-david-knight-show--5282736/support.

On this special Thanksgiving episode of Family Vision, Rob Rienow shares the incredible story of the Pilgrims and their journey to the New World in 1620. Discover why this small church relocated from England, to Holland, and ultimately to the New World.  But what compelled them to come? In Bradford's book, Of Plymouth Plantation, he explains how their love for God, their love for their children, and their love for the Gospel motivated them to risk everything.  Gather your family to learn how the Pilgrims' faith, courage, and vision continue to shape our understanding of Thanksgiving and God's providence today. Featured Resources: Of Plymouth Plantation by William Bradford: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0075542811 What If Jesus Had Never Been Born? by D. James Kennedy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0849920795/ The Value of Every Life: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmQjQIdtkfw  Visionary Family Ministries Conferences – Learn how to host an event at: https://visionaryfam.com/host-a-conference/ 

Learn that the idea of gratitude and giving thanks is an ancient concept for mankind and expressly elevated in the Bible. Review how days of thanksgiving were originally commemorated in the English colonies in Virginia and Massachusetts, with the English dissenters, the Pilgrims, having the most influential celebrations. In the colonial era, Thanksgiving celebrations were centered on particular events and circumstances, and, accordingly, happened at different times. As Americans united against British tyranny, they made continental wide proclamations through the Continental Congress, but again tied to specific events and times. President George Washington issued the first two Thanksgiving Proclamations under the Constitution, and John Adams and James Madison did the same. Thomas Jefferson refused, and after James Madison, Thanksgiving was proclaimed by the States, but not by the President, until Abraham Lincoln. Sarah Josepha Hale's drive to create a uniform, nation wide celebration was embraced by Lincoln and his successors, and it became firmly fixed to the Fourth Thursday of November under President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Feasts, running, football, parades, Black Friday, Cyber Monday and Giving Tuesday all flow from this powerful day of gratitude. Highlights include the Bible, Thessalonians 5:16-18, Colossians 2:7, Psalm 100:4, Colossians 4:2, Psalm 92, Philippians 4:6, King Henry VIII, Queen Elizabeth Anne Boleyn, Church of England, John Calvin, Puritans, Common Book of Prayers, King James I, Pilgrims, Mayflower, Plymouth England, Plymouth Harbor Massachusetts, Mayflower Compact, John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Samoset, Squanto, Wampanoag, William Bedford, Thanksgiving commemoration, Melanie Kirkpatrick, Thanksgiving The Holiday at the Heart of the American Experience, William Bradford, Berkeley Plantation a/k/a Berkeley Hundred, The Margaret, John Woodlief, Jamestown, the Starving Time, Chief Opechancanough, Massacre of 1622, Massachusetts Bay Colony, New Amsterdam, First Continental Congress, Second Continental Congress, Day of Humiliation Fasting and Prayer (1776), Henry Laurens, Thanksgiving Day Proclamation (1777), Battle of Saratoga, Thomas McKean, Day of Thanksgiving and Prayer, George Washington, James Madison, Elias Boudinot, Aedanus Burke, Thomas Tudor Tucker, Federalist Party, Anti-Federalists, Peter Silvester, Roger Sherman, Articles of Confederation, Continental Association, Constitution, William Samuel Johnson, Ralph Izard, Washington Thanksgiving Day Proclamation , Whiskey Rebellion, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Samuel Letter, James Madison, First Amendment, War of 1812, Abraham Lincoln, Sarah Josepha Hale, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Northwood: A Tale of New England, Vassar College, domestic science, Ladies' Magazine, Godey's Lady's Book, Civil War, William Seward, Andrew Johnson, Lincoln Thanksgiving Proclamation, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt a/k/a FDR, National Retail Dry Goods Association, Franksgiving, Allen Treadway, Earl Michener, FDR Thanksgiving Speech, President Lyndon Baines Johnson, Johnson Thanksgiving Speech (1963), President John F. Kennedy, President Ronald Reagan, Reagan Thanksgiving Speech, President Barak Obama Thanksgiving Speech, President George W. Bush, President Bush Thanksgiving Day visit to the troops in Iraq, President Donald Trump, Trump Thanksgiving Day visit to troops in Afghanistan, Trump Speech to troops on Thanksgiving, President Bill Clinton Pardoning of Turkey, Presidential Pardons of Turkey, Thanksgiving Dinner & Feast, Thanksgiving parades, Grumbles, Macy's, Hudson's, Turkey Trot, National Football League (NFL) Thanksgiving Games, Detroit Lions, Dallas Cowboys, Walter Camp, Collegiate Football Thanksgiving Games, George A. Richards, The Chicago Bears, Black Friday, Giving Tuesday, Henry Timms, Cyber Monday, and many others. To learn more about America & Patriot Week, visit www.PatriotWeek.org. Our resources include videos, a TV series, blogs, lesson plans, and more. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/michael-warren9/support

Born in Bangalore, India to a British military family, Prince was educated at Eton and, Cambridge in England and Hebrew University in Israel. A self-proclaimed atheist and a philosopher, while in the medical corps during WWII, Prince began to study the bible as a philosophical work. He was converted through a powerful encounter with Jesus Christ, baptized in the Holy Spirit a few days later and he devoted his life to studying and teaching the bible as the word of God. He is the author of over 64 books. Shaping History Through Prayer and Fasting has awakened Christians around the world to their responsibility to pray for their governments. Many consider underground translations of the book as instrumental to the fall of communistic regimes in the USSR, East Germany and Czechoslovakia. Source for material is William Bradford's book Of Plymouth Plantation, where Bradford carefully recorded the many instances where God answered prayer for the Pilgrims. Today we discuss the foundation of the first Thanksgiving, God answering the Pilgrims prayers and the Native Americans joined in worship and Thanksgiving. Share how in the summer of 1623 the corn crop that the pilgrims had so carefully planted was threatened and God saved the Pilgrims and the Native Americans at your Thanksgiving dinner. St. Stanislaus Kostka Parish

What if the key to a fulfilling life lies not in the pursuit of temporary achievements, but in steadfast faith and family? Join me, Jesse Cope, as we explore this profound question on the American Soul Podcast. In this episode, we focus on the timeless importance of nurturing spiritual muscle memory through dedicated time with God, prayer, and our loved ones. Reflecting on the words of John Robinson and William Bradford, we revisit historical insights from the Pilgrims' journey and their relentless quest for religious freedom. Discover the enduring relevance of Bradford's 1623 Thanksgiving proclamation and how it can inspire us to prioritize eternal values over fleeting accolades.We delve into the wisdom left by Pastor John Robinson of the Pilgrim Church, urging us to align with leaders who embody Christ's teachings. I share personal insights on the vital role of questioning and searching the scriptures with diligence. As we journey back to the Pilgrims' pursuit for worship freedom, we find lessons in evaluating our own allegiances today. This episode invites you to reflect on the foundational sacrifices that have shaped our nation, encouraging a return to scriptural roots and the honoring of our rich spiritual and historical heritage. Let's extend blessings to families, marriages, and our nation, as we cherish and uphold these core values.Support the showThe American Soul Podcasthttps://www.buzzsprout.com/1791934/subscribe

In this special Thanksgiving-themed episode from 2020, Jordan interviews his long-time and good friend John McDonald, now retired from Medtronic Deep Brain Stimulation. The pair discuss their Thanksgiving traditions, how John is staying in the game after retirement and how both a Wall Street Journal® article from 1961 & an excerpt from the journal of William Bradford still ring true today.

Discover the profound roots of democratic governance as we unravel the Mayflower Compact of 1620, a cornerstone document that set the stage for the establishment of the New Plymouth colony. Join us on a journey through the challenges and aspirations of the Pilgrims, who, in their quest for religious freedom and the advancement of Christian values, forged a revolutionary framework for self-governance. By examining this historic agreement, we shed light on the settlers' steadfast commitment to creating a society founded on just and equal laws, promising a fascinating exploration of cooperation and unity in the face of adversity.Meet the notable signatories like John Carver, William Bradford, and Miles Standish, whose names resonate through history as pioneers of a new world. These courageous individuals, bound by their loyalty to King James and each other, crafted a solemn pledge to submit to the laws they collectively deemed essential for the colony's success. We dive into the societal and religious contexts of the time, offering insight into the Pilgrims' unwavering dedication to their faith and mission. This episode is a tribute to their enduring spirit and the lasting impact of their efforts on the future of democratic governance.Support the showThe American Soul Podcasthttps://www.buzzsprout.com/1791934/subscribe

Join Paula Peters, citizen of the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe as she shares the historical and cultural legacy and story of the Wampanoag: the People of the First Light. She unravels common misperceptions and false narratives around the first “Thanksgiving” and the harvest of 1621 involving Native people and the first colonizers, the Pilgrims. By acknowledging what has gone before, she invites us to envision and collectively create a balanced way forward for humanity. The Wampanoag have lived in southeastern Massachusetts for more than 12,000 years. They are the tribe first encountered by Mayflower Pilgrims when they landed in Provincetown harbor and explored the eastern coast of Cape Cod and when they continued on to Patuxet (Plymouth) to establish Plymouth Colony. In 2020, America commemorated the 400th anniversary of the Mayflower voyage and the founding of Plymouth Colony, a story that cannot be told without the perspective of the indigenous people who were here as that ship arrived and who still remain. For Part II of this interview, CLICK HERE https://www.patreon.com/posts/116836972?pr=true Video Links: NK 360 The First Thanksgiving with Linda Coombs: https://youtu.be/pba21_DOGl8?si=4BuJUMlpk0U9zLAK Story of Squanto, Smithsonian Channel: https://youtu.be/N-uE7cbH1-I?si=DY2Il4PYp0C4bG7x Cranberry Day: Traditional Harvest Festivals, Smoke Sygnals/Smithsonian: https://youtu.be/g2pSir70DG4?si=RRA9b9uk4v4LS0rZ For an extended interview and other benefits, become an EcoJustice Radio patron at https://www.patreon.com/ecojusticeradio LINKS The Thanksgiving Story from the Wampanoag Perspective: https://wilderutopia.com/traditions/wampanoag-thanksgiving-stolen-land-massacred-hope/ Native Knowledge 360: https://americanindian.si.edu/nk360 Plymouth 400: https://www.plymouth400inc.org/category/news/ Suppressed Speech Wamsutta Frank B. James:http://www.uaine.org/suppressed_speech.htm Native Land Conservancy: https://www.nativelandconservancy.org Linda Coombs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGSmn2UPicQ https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/692454/colonization-and-the-wampanoag-story-by-linda-coombs/ Paula Peters is a politically, socially and culturally active citizen of the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe. For more than a decade she worked as a journalist for the Cape Cod Times and is now co-owner of SmokeSygnals [http://smokesygnals.com], a Native owned and operated creative production agency. As an independent scholar and writer of Native, and particularly Wampanoag history, she produced the traveling exhibit “Our”Story: 400 Years of Wampanoag History and The Wampum Belt Project documenting the art and tradition of wampum in the contemporary Wampanoag community [https://www.plymouth400inc.org/category/news/]. In 2020 she wrote the introduction to the 400th Anniversary Edition of William Bradford's, Of Plimoth Plantation. Paula is also the executive producer of the 2016 documentary film Mashpee Nine and author of the companion book, a story of law enforcement abuse of power and cultural justice in the Wampanoag community in 1976. Paula lives with her husband and children in Mashpee, Massachusetts, the Wampanoag ancestral homeland. Carry Kim, Co-Host of EcoJustice Radio. An advocate for ecosystem restoration, Indigenous lifeways, and a new humanity born of connection and compassion, she is a long-time volunteer for SoCal350, member of Ecosystem Restoration Camps, and a co-founder of the Soil Sponge Collective, a grassroots community organization dedicated to big and small scale regeneration of Mother Earth. Podcast Website: http://ecojusticeradio.org/ Podcast Blog: https://www.wilderutopia.com/category/ecojustice-radio/ Support the Podcast: Patreon https://www.patreon.com/ecojusticeradio PayPal https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=LBGXTRM292TFC&source=url Executive Producer and Intro: Jack Eidt Hosted by Carry Kim Engineer and Original Music: Blake Quake Beats Episode 242 Photo credit: Paula Peters

On November 11, 1620, forty-one men aboard the ship the Mayflower signed a document of great importance. With their signatures they vowed to create fair and just laws and to work together for the good of the Plymouth colony. This document, the Mayflower Compact, was the first to outline self-governance in the so called “New World” and it would go on to serve as a foundation for both the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution. Our government was practically built upon the Mayflower Compact signed by those men. But not all of them would uphold the vows they made that day. One in particular, John Billington, would go so far against them as to become the first convicted murderer in American history. In the words of Governor William Bradford “He is a knave, and so will live and die.” But it wasn't just John Sr., his whole family wreaked havoc on the colony, prompting Bradford to call them “one of the profanest families amongst them.” Join me this week to learn more about John Billington, the murderer on the Mayflower.Support the show! Join the PatreonBuy Me a CoffeeVenmo @Shea-LaFountaineSources: "History of Plimoth Plantation" by William Bradford (1630)"Mourt's Relation: A Journal of the Pilgrims at Plymouth" by Edward Winslow (1622)Mayflower 400 "The Mayflower Story"New England Historical Society "John Billington Gets Lost"History.com "Who Was the First Convicted Murderer in America"The Mayflower Society "The Billington Family"Mayflower 400 "America's first murderer was executed for killing fellow Plymouth settler"Wikipedia "John Billington"Shoot me a message! Great Business StoriesA great business story thoroughly researched and brought to life by Caemin &...Listen on: Apple Podcasts Spotify

In this special Thanksgiving episode, Jayme and Steve weave together the rich, complex histories of the Plymouth Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people. From Squanto's remarkable journey of resilience to the Pilgrims' harrowing trials of faith, discover how a shared celebration of gratitude became a cornerstone of American tradition. Explore the true story of the first Thanksgiving in 1621. Uncover the enduring legacy of empathy, cooperation, and gratitude. Learn about the historical figures who shaped the season, including William Bradford, Chief Massasoit, and Sarah Josepha Hale. Join us for this thoughtful dive into one of history's most inspiring, yet complicated, stories—a reminder of the power of unity in the face of adversity.

Send us a textHow do your daily actions align with your deepest values? Join me, Jesse Cope, in an exploration of how prioritizing faith and gratitude can transform our lives and communities. Through powerful historical reflections, like the journey of William Bradford and the Pilgrims, we're reminded of the timeless quest for religious freedom and the courage it takes to live out our beliefs. We discuss the profound impact of aligning our actions with our values, particularly within the family unit, encouraging each listener to reevaluate their commitments and embrace authentic relationships grounded in faith. Your support and prayers are sincerely appreciated as we journey together toward a more meaningful existence.In another thought-provoking segment, we reflect on Abraham Lincoln's 1862 proclamation, illustrating how divine intervention was recognized during the Civil War, urging our nation to seek spiritual guidance. This historical insight serves as a backdrop to address the urgent need for a societal shift to a faith-driven approach that emphasizes leading by example. We explore the contrast between coercive conversions in other religions and the voluntary nature of Christian faith, highlighting the importance of genuine conviction. As we advocate for justice and mercy, the call to return to foundational Christian values resounds, inspiring change not through force, but through the power of our actions.Support the showThe American Soul Podcasthttps://www.buzzsprout.com/1791934/subscribe

As we continue our series celebrating Thanksgiving and National Native American Heritage Month, Jayme and Steve delve into the story of the Pilgrims—their struggles, faith, and ultimate journey toward the first Thanksgiving. Beyond the familiar tales of turkeys and buckled hats, this episode explores the Pilgrims' incredible journey from England to the New World, driven by their desire for religious freedom. Highlights: Discover the real story of William Bradford and the separatists who risked everything to worship freely. The Pilgrims' journey through betrayal, imprisonment, and uncertainty in their pursuit of a promised land. Insights into how this small band of faithful settlers laid the foundation for democracy, freedom, and the American spirit. Join us as we uncover the inspiring and complicated story that shaped the ideals of early America. This episode sets the stage for next week's conclusion, where look at the Pilgrims' dynamic, yet fragile relationship with the Wampanoag tribe and the true story behind the first Thanksgiving.

This blessedly short episode encapsulates the types of English colonial government in the 17th and 18th centuries, which were chartered corporations, proprietary "counties palatine," and royal colonies directly ruled by the Crown through a governor and advisors. Technically abstruse as these distinctions may have been, they would become increasingly important starting in the 1670s, and will be useful background for much of what comes next. X/Twitter: @TheHistoryOfTh2 Facebook: The History of the Americans Podcast Links to selected English-American charter documents Charter of Massachusetts Bay, March 4, 1629 Charter of the Colony of New Plymouth Granted to William Bradford and His Associates, 1629 Sir Robert Heath's Patent for Carolana, October 30, 1629 The Charter of Maryland, June 20, 1632 Charter of Carolina, March 24, 1663 Charter of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, July 15, 1663 Charter for the Province of Pennsylvania, February 20, 1681 Avalon Project 17th Century Documents

IN THIS MESSAGE WE JUXTAPOSE THE VOYAGE OF THE PILGRIMS ON THE MAYFLOWER WITH THE APOSTLE PAUL IN BONDS UPON A PRISON SHIP, BOUND FOR ROME, FOR WITH THE JEWS DESIRING TO KILL HIM, HE APPEALED TO CEASAR TO BE TRIED IN ROME. WE WILL FIND IN THE PILGRIMS WEAKNESS BECAUSE OF THE TREACHEROUS JOURNEY, GOD AGAIN AND AGAIN DELIVERED THEM. FOR EXAMPLE, WILLIAM BRADFORD, WHO BECAME THE GOVERNOR OF THE PLYMOUTH PLANTATION IN MASSACHUSETTS WROTE AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR JOUNEY AND THEIR HABITATION ENTITLED ‘OF THE PLYMOUTH PLANTATION 1620-1647' WHERE HE WRITES OF AN INCIDENT WHERE ONE OF THE PASSENGERS ABORAD THE MAYFLOWER ROUTINELY MOCKED THE CHRISTIANS, FOR ONLY 35 OF THE 102 PASSENGERS WERE OF THE FLOCK OF JOHN ROBINSON THEIR PASTOR. THE ACCOUNT OF THIS INCIDENT READS AS FOLLOWS FROM WILLIAM BRADFORD'S BOOK: “ These troubles being blown over, and now all being compact together in one ship, they put to sea again with a prosperous wind, which continued divers days together, which was some encouragement unto them; yet, according to the usual manner, many were afflicted with seasickness. And I may not omit here a special work of God's providence. There was a proud and very profane young man, one of the seamen, of a lusty, able body, which made him the more haughty; he would alway be contemning the poor people in their sickness and cursing them daily with grievous execrations; and did not let to tell them that he hoped to help to cast half of them overboard before they came to their journey's end, and to make merry with what they had; and if he were by any gently reproved, he would curse and swear most bitterly. But it pleased God before they came half seas over, to smite this young man with a grievous disease, of which he died in a desperate manner, and so was himself the first that was thrown overboard. Thus his curses light on his own head, and it was an astonishment to all his fellows for they noted it to be the just hand of God upon him.” GOD MADE IT CLEAR TO THE OTHER PASSENGERS ABOARD THAT HE SUBDUES THEIR ENEMIES AND THAT THEY AUGHT TO BE CAREFUL WHAT THEY SAY AND DO TO THESE PILGRIMS. LIKEWISE WE WILL FIND THAT GOD WORKED IN THE SAME WAY FOR THE APOSTLE PAUL, BEING HELD AS A PRISONER, ABOARD A PRISON SHIP, BOUND TO ROME. IT IS OF UTMOST NECESSITY THAT WE AS AMERICAN PARENTS TEACH OUR CHILDREN THE HISTORY OF REFORMATION COUPLED WITH ITS DOCTRINE FOR THE LEFT POLITICALLY AND THE LEFT CHURCH DESIRES TO ERASE IT. IT IS THE DOCTRINE OF THESE PILGRIMS AND PURITANS THAT CAME TO AMERICA THAT UNDERGIRDED THE MOMENTAL FUTURE SUCCESS OF AMERICA. THIS DOCTRINE OF THE BONDAGE OF THE WILL MUST AGAIN BECOME DOMINANT IN AMERICA, AND WHEN THAT HAPPENS THE TRUE KING JESUS WILL AGAIN BE DOMINANT.

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.“Perfect,” she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.And with that, she began to dance.“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”Myles shrugged, puzzled.“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”Reverend Brewster shook his head.“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.“Perfect,” she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.And with that, she began to dance.“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”Myles shrugged, puzzled.“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”Reverend Brewster shook his head.“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.“Perfect,” she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.And with that, she began to dance.“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”Myles shrugged, puzzled.“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”Reverend Brewster shook his head.“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

On the second Christmas that the Pilgrims spent in Plymouth (the first had been spent cutting down trees and building houses), the governor of the colony, William Bradford, gathered the men together so that they could all go do the Lord's work (which was probably cutting down trees and building houses). Some of the colonists were newly arrived, and hadn't come for religious reasons, but more for finding wealth and opportunity in the New World. This portion of the men did not think that Christmas didn't exist and should not be recognized. They thought it did exist and they should get to have celebratory fun. So they talked Bradford into letting them go, and they went back and played games in the street. Bradford was surprised when he found them, since he thought they were praying and meditating in their homes about whether or not Christmas actually existed, and when they had prayed and meditated enough, they would figure out that it didn't, and then they would come help out with the Lord's work. Which was not, at all, in any way, playing games in the street. Anne gets to talk about Christmas and Colonial America, and Michelle found a rabbit hole that was so seductive she didn't read anything about William Bradford and the Naughty Boys, because she had to learn all about John Taylor, Water Poet, who had a lot to say about the dreadfulness of banning Christmas and, we've decided, is the protagonist of Michelle's next historical novel. Happy Holidays!

An English Puritan separatist originally from Yorkshire in Northern England, William Bradford moved to Holland with other Pilgrims in order to escape religious persecution from King James of England, and then emigrated to northeastern North America on the ship Mayflower in 1620. He was a signatory to the Mayflower Compact agreement between the settlers and went on to serve as Governor of the Plymouth Colony intermittently for about 30 years.  Check out the YouTube version of this episode at https://youtu.be/o9FffAQXspk which has accompanying visuals including maps, charts, timelines, photos, illustrations, and diagrams.  Puritan books available at https://amzn.to/3uQEshf William Bradford books available at https://amzn.to/4a2FTJR  Pilgrim books available at https://amzn.to/3RmFkTE  Mayflower books available at https://amzn.to/3T02Ze0  Plymouth Colony books available at https://amzn.to/3sZsvFz  LibriVox available for Free at https://amzn.to/3E8a5EE  THANKS for the many wonderful comments, messages, ratings and reviews. All of them are regularly posted for your reading pleasure on https://patreon.com/markvinet where you can also get exclusive access to Bonus episodes, Ad-Free content, Extra materials, and an eBook Welcome Gift when joining our growing community on Patreon or Donate on PayPal at https://bit.ly/3cx9OOL and receive an eBook GIFT. SUPPORT this series by enjoying a wide-range of useful & FUN Gadgets at https://twitter.com/GadgetzGuy and/or by purchasing any product on Amazon using this FREE entry LINK https://amzn.to/3k8qrGM (Amazon gives us credit at no extra charge to you). It costs you nothing to shop using this FREE store entry link and by doing so encourages & helps us create more quality content. Thanks! Mark Vinet's HISTORICAL JESUS podcast is available at https://parthenonpodcast.com/historical-jesus                                                            Mark's TIMELINE video channel at https://youtube.com/c/TIMELINE_MarkVinet Website: https://markvinet.com/podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/denarynovels Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkVinet_HNA  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mark.vinet.9 YouTube Podcast Playlist: https://www.bit.ly/34tBizu Podcast: https://parthenonpodcast.com/history-of-north-america TikTok: https://tiktok.com/@historyofnorthamerica Books: https://amzn.to/3k8qrGM                                                                              Linktree: https://linktr.ee/WadeOrganization                                                            Librivox: William Bradford's journal Of Plymouth Plantation (Book I, Chapter 10) read by David Leeson.    See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We're discussing the history and meaning of Thanksgiving. King James was persecuting the Puritans in England, so this group, called Separatists, left their country in pursuit of religious freedom. After years in the Netherlands, they eventually sailed to the New World and landed in Plymouth, MA. Under the leadership of William Bradford, the pilgrims suffered losses and found success, giving thanks to God the entire time. Sign up for our newsletter: https://www.toddhuffshow.com Stack of Stuff: https://www.toddhuffshow.com/stack-of-stuff Email: todd@toddhuffshow.comPhone: 317.210.2830Follow us on…Instagram: @toddhuffshowFacebook: The Todd Huff ShowTwitter: @toddhuffshowLinkedIn: The Todd Huff ShowTikTok: @toddhuffshowSupport Our Partners:https://www.toddhuffshow.com/partners Links:https://www.mypillow.com/todd Promo Code: TODDhttps://mystore.com/toddhttps://4patriots.com Promo Code: HUFF for 10% offhttps://faith-lit.com Promo Code: TODD for 15% offhttps://americaschristiancu.com/radio/https://getthetea.com Promo Code: HUFF for 10%https://www.patriotshave.com Promo Code: TODD for 10%https://icreateartbox.com Promo Code: TODD for 10%https://harvardgoldgroup.com Promo Code: TODD for $250 credit

Learn that the idea of gratitude and giving thanks is an ancient concept for mankind and expressly elevated in the Bible. Review how days of thanksgiving were originally commemorated in the English colonies in Virginia and Massachusetts, with the English dissenters, the Pilgrims, having the most influential celebrations. In the colonial era, Thanksgiving celebrations were centered on particular events and circumstances, and, accordingly, happened at different times. As Americans united against British tyranny, they made continental wide proclamations through the Continental Congress, but again tied to specific events and times. President George Washington issued the first two Thanksgiving Proclamations under the Constitution, and John Adams and James Madison did the same. Thomas Jefferson refused, and after James Madison, Thanksgiving was proclaimed by the States, but not by the President, until Abraham Lincoln. Sarah Josepha Hale's drive to create a uniform, nation wide celebration was embraced by Lincoln and his successors, and it became firmly fixed to the Fourth Thursday of November under President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Feasts, running, football, parades, Black Friday, Cyber Monday and Giving Tuesday all flow from this powerful day of gratitude. Highlights include the Bible, Thessalonians 5:16-18, Colossians 2:7, Psalm 100:4, Colossians 4:2, Psalm 92, Philippians 4:6, King Henry VIII, Queen Elizabeth Anne Boleyn, Church of England, John Calvin, Puritans, Common Book of Prayers, King James I, Pilgrims, Mayflower, Plymouth England, Plymouth Harbor Massachusetts, Mayflower Compact, John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Samoset, Squanto, Wampanoag, William Bedford, Thanksgiving commemoration, Melanie Kirkpatrick, Thanksgiving The Holiday at the Heart of the American Experience, William Bradford, Berkeley Plantation a/k/a Berkeley Hundred, The Margaret, John Woodlief, Jamestown, the Starving Time, Chief Opechancanough, Massacre of 1622, Massachusetts Bay Colony, New Amsterdam, First Continental Congress, Second Continental Congress, Day of Humiliation Fasting and Prayer (1776), Henry Laurens, Thanksgiving Day Proclamation (1777), Battle of Saratoga, Thomas McKean, Day of Thanksgiving and Prayer (December 18, 1781), George Washington, James Madison, Elias Boudinot, Aedanus Burke, Thomas Tudor Tucker, Federalist Party, Anti-Federalists, Constitution, William Samuel Johnson, Ralph Izard, Washington Thanksgiving Day Proclamation (October 3, 1789 for November 26, 1789), Whiskey Rebellion, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Samuel Letter, FDR Thanksgiving Speech (1938), President Lyndon Baines Johnson, Johnson Thanksgiving Speech (1963), President John F. Kennedy, President Ronald Reagan, Reagan Thanksgiving Speech (October 19, 1984 and 1986), President Barak Obama, Obama Thanksgiving Speech (2009), Clinton Pardoning of Turkey Speech (1997), Presidential Pardons of Turkey, Thanksgiving Dinner & Feast, Thanksgiving parades, Grumbles, Macy's, Hudson's, Turkey Trot, National Football League (NFL) Thanksgiving Games, Detroit Lions, Dallas Cowboys, Walter Camp, Collegiate Football Thanksgiving Games, George A. Richards, The Chicago Bears, Saturday Night Live (SNL), Black Friday, Giving Tuesday, Henry Timms, Cyber Monday, and many others. To learn more about America & Patriot Week, visit www.PatriotWeek.org. Our resources include videos, a TV series, blogs, lesson plans, and more. Read the full Declaration of Independence here: https://patriotweek.org/2021/07/24/the-declaration-of-independence-september-11/ Check out Judge Michael Warren's book America's Survival Guide, How to Stop America's Impending Suicide by Reclaiming Our First Principles and History at www.AmericasSurvivalGuide.com, amazon, or other major on-line retailers. Join us! SUPPORT: Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/michael-warren9/support [donations go the nonprofit, nonpartisan, 501(c)(3) Patriot Week Foundation] --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/michael-warren9/support

We're discussing the history and meaning of Thanksgiving. King James was persecuting the Puritans in England, so this group, called Separatists, left their country in pursuit of religious freedom. After years in the Netherlands, they eventually sailed to the New World and landed in Plymouth, MA. Under the leadership of William Bradford, the pilgrims suffered losses and found success, giving thanks to God the entire time. Sign up for our newsletter: https://www.toddhuffshow.com Stack of Stuff: https://www.toddhuffshow.com/stack-of-stuff Email: todd@toddhuffshow.comPhone: 317.210.2830Follow us on…Instagram: @toddhuffshowFacebook: The Todd Huff ShowTwitter: @toddhuffshowLinkedIn: The Todd Huff ShowTikTok: @toddhuffshowSupport Our Partners:https://www.toddhuffshow.com/partners Links:https://www.mypillow.com/todd Promo Code: TODDhttps://mystore.com/toddhttps://4patriots.com Promo Code: HUFF for 10% offhttps://faith-lit.com Promo Code: TODD for 15% offhttps://americaschristiancu.com/radio/https://getthetea.com Promo Code: HUFF for 10%https://www.patriotshave.com Promo Code: TODD for 10%https://icreateartbox.com Promo Code: TODD for 10%https://harvardgoldgroup.com Promo Code: TODD for $250 credit

Check out the "Biblical Homestead Community and Traditions: 2023 Edition of the Prairie Dust Trail Magazine" in Kindle or Paperback (a great gift idea!) https://www.amazon.com/Biblical-Homestead-Community-Traditions-Magazine-ebook/dp/B0CMZG784P/"Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm." Ephesians 6:11-13"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, GIVE THANKS in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18"Unlike the Pilgrims who had left 10 years earlier, the Puritans did not break with the Church of England, but instead sought to reform it." https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/godinamerica-early-american-groups"Whereas 102 Pilgrims came over on the Mayflower, 1,000 Puritans came to Boston. Unlike the Pilgrims, the Puritans had an official charter from the King of England to establish a colony and had not separated from the Church of England."  https://artsci.wustl.edu/ampersand/pilgrims-puritans-and-importance-unexceptionalhttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puritanshttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Bradford_(governor)https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Bunyan☕️ Grab your tin hat as we dig into the record of history, myths and legends. Let's bridge the gap between news and prophecy to pinpoint your family's unique needs for living a more sustainable life with Biblical principles. I'm Dawnita Fogleman, fifth-generation Oklahoma homesteader, homeschool mom of six, author, and award-winning journalist, connecting the past with the future to help you weather the dust storms of life with God's Divine help. 

KJP opens the briefing by whipping out a literal food menu and claiming that this Thanksgiving is actually one of the cheapest ever. Dana explains the true story of Thanksgiving of William Bradford eschewing socialism and unleashing capitalism, saving the pilgrims. Israel closes in on a hostage deal. Elon Musk sues Media Matters. Dana is impressed by how neat the counties in Iowa are divided.Please visit our great sponsors:All Family Pharmacyhttps://allfamilypharma.com/danaSave 10% with code DANA10 when you order today at https://allfamilypharma.com/danaHeadrest Safehttps://theheadrestsafe.comUse code DANA for an exclusive $50 off. Nimi Skincarehttps://nimiskincare.comDon't compromise. Use promo code DANA for 10% your order.Patriot Mobilehttps://patriotmobile.com/danaGet FREE activation with the offer code DANA. Wise Food Storagehttps://preparewithdana.comSave $50 on your 4-Week Survival Food Kit plus free shipping when you order today!

Dana explains the true story of Thanksgiving of William Bradford eschewing socialism and unleashing capitalism, saving the pilgrims. Meanwhile, KJP opens the briefing by whipping out a literal food menu and claiming that this Thanksgiving is actually one of the cheapest ever.Please visit our great sponsors:All Family Pharmacyhttps://allfamilypharma.com/danaSave 10% with code DANA10 when you order today at https://allfamilypharma.com/danaHeadrest Safehttps://theheadrestsafe.comUse code DANA for an exclusive $50 off. Nimi Skincarehttps://nimiskincare.comDon't compromise. Use promo code DANA for 10% your order.Patriot Mobilehttps://patriotmobile.com/danaGet FREE activation with the offer code DANA. Wise Food Storagehttps://preparewithdana.comSave $50 on your 4-Week Survival Food Kit plus free shipping when you order today!

Born in Bangalore, India to a British military family, Prince was educated at Eton and, Cambridge in England and Hebrew University in Israel. A self-proclaimed atheist and a philosopher, while in the medical corps during WWII, Prince began to study the bible as a philosophical work. He was converted through a powerful encounter with Jesus Christ, baptized in the Holy Spirit a few days later and he devoted his life to studying and teaching the bible as the word of God. He is the author of over 64 books. Shaping History Through Prayer and Fasting has awakened Christians around the world to their responsibility to pray for their governments. Many consider underground translations of the book as instrumental to the fall of communistic regimes in the USSR, East Germany and Czechoslovakia. Source for material is William Bradford's book Of Plymouth Plantation, where Bradford carefully recorded the many instances where God answered prayer for the Pilgrims. Today we discuss the foundation of the first Thanksgiving, God answering the Pilgrims prayers and the Native Americans joined in worship and Thanksgiving. Share how in the summer of 1623 the corn crop that the pilgrims had so carefully planted was threatened and God saved the Pilgrims and the Native Americans at your Thanksgiving dinner.

Every elementary school kid in the US and Canada has been the told how 102 English/Dutch illegal immigrants snuck into America in 1620, under the noses of the Native American Border Patrol - with no immigration papers. Once discovered, the illegal aliens – who we today call ‘Pilgrims' - were forced to cut a deal with the ruling tribe(s) and were only allowed to remain in their tiny village, at a great cost to themselves. With our EZ Bake Oven time machine, we have sent our amazing co-host Anuradha back 400 hundred years to the first Thanksgiving celebration. She gets both sides of the story. She interviews Plymouth Colony Governor, William Bradford as well as the Chief of the ruling Wampanoag tribe, Massasoit. Anuradha asks the really tough questions: What was on the table for the first Thanksgiving? No turkey? No mashed potatoes? And, why were the unwelcome European colonists allowed to live? As a BONUS we add a replay of a 2021 piece where Columbus first comes to America – from the native American perspective. Enjoy! Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  

The remarkable story of the courage and suffering of the passengers aboard the Mayflower and the establishment of the Plymouth Colony. On March 16, the inevitable occurred, although the incident did not unfold as the settlers previously feared.  As described in a pamphlet entitled, “Mourt's Relation,” a description of the first year of Plymouth Colony, co-written by William Bradford and another settler named Edward Winslow, with work suspended for a regularly scheduled meeting about specific plans … Continue reading William Bradford and the Voyage of the Mayflower (Volume Six, Episode Seven) Part Two →

The remarkable story of the courage and suffering of the passengers aboard the Mayflower and the establishment of the Plymouth Colony. On November 11, 1620, a 100 foot long cargo ship called the Mayflower entered what is today known as Provincetown Harbor, virtually on the tip of present day Cape Cod.  This was the culmination of over two months at sea for 102 immigrants, originally from England, some of this contingent intent on establishing their own … Continue reading William Bradford and the Voyage of the Mayflower (Volume Six, Episode Seven) Part One →

Author and passionate genealogist William "Bill" Cole was in the Chapter House studio to talk more about his latest book, Puritans, Plagues, and Promises. You'll want to listen to our part 1 podcast and part 2 podcast if you haven't already. That conversation covered Bill's ancestors and their involvement in the Puritan Movement, which was an important piece of Christian history. Along the way, we also talked about King Henry VIII, the Church of England, the dreaded "Star Chamber," and religious freedom. Here in Part 3, we talk about his ancestors in the families Cole, Clarke, and Collier. Bill describes his ancestors' lives in Southwark, where London Bridge meets the south bankside of the River Thames. Bill's 9th great-grandmother, born Jane Yates in 1587, survived 4 plagues and 17 childbirths. William Collier, Jane's husband, was a successful merchant who invested in the Mayflower and supported Plymouth Colony. Bill describes Mayflower's troubled voyage and his two ancestors on the ship who helped establish Plymouth Colony. This offers a rare glimpse of the Mayflower story from of two sides: the passengers and the investors. His two Mayflower ancestors, Stephen and Constance Hopkins, were joined by the Collier family and the Cole brothers in Plymouth Colony in the 1630s. Trials, tribulations, political turmoil, economic incentives including land ownership, and religious freedom all intersect with the promises offered by life on a pristine continent. It's a story that's both personal and yet sweeping in the scope of English and American history. Join us!

Jerry Bowyer is the president of Bowyer Research and our resident economist. You can read his insightful columns for World News Group at WNG.org.  [1:03]WHAT WERE THE SELF-INFLICTED HARDSHIPS THE PURITANS FACED DUE TO THEIR ECONOMIC POLICIES?The Puritans at Plymouth Plantation implemented a communal property system as dictated by their charter.This economic policy was essentially a form of communism where no one owned their land, men worked the land collectively, and women cooked for everyone.The system led to a lack of motivation as people didn't want to work for others, causing excuses and a decrease in productivity, which resulted in starvation and hardship.[2:36]HOW DO WE KNOW THAT THE PURITANS' ECONOMIC FAILURES WERE NOT JUST "REVISIONIST HISTORY"?The reality of the Puritans' struggles was documented by primary sources, including writings from William Bradford, who acknowledged the mistake.The communal economic policy was influenced by the prevailing intellectual ideas from England, derived from Plato's philosophy.The Puritans realized their error, abandoned the communal system, and allotted private land which led to improved work ethic and productivity, aligning more with Biblical principles such as the commandment "Thou shalt not steal," emphasizing private property. [6:45]TELL US ABOUT THE ECONOMIC PRINCIPLES THAT THE PILGRIMS APPLIED AT PLYMOUTH PLANTATION AND HOW IT RELATES TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING.The Pilgrims initially implemented a communal system where property and labor were shared, but it led to laziness and food shortages.Changing to a system that embraced private property, as encouraged by the wisdom of Moses and the Bible, resulted in productivity and abundance.This shift to private property and trade, including exchanges with the Native Americans, culminated in the first Thanksgiving, celebrating their newfound prosperity. [9:06]HOW DOES THIS HISTORICAL EVENT RELATE TO AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM AND THANKSGIVING?The Pilgrims' experience with and rejection of a communal system for a biblical model of private property is a foundational story of American exceptionalism.William Bradford, leader of the Pilgrims, was deeply versed in the Bible, and their biblical worldview provided a clear alternative to failed economic systems.The knowledge of this pivotal moment has faded in American culture, contributing to the repetition of economic mistakes such as nationalization efforts seen in recent history. [10:52]CAN YOU DISCUSS GOD'S PROVIDENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE UNITED STATES AND ITS ECONOMY?The Puritans' gradual acceptance of a capitalist system for all economic sectors, not just agriculture, coincided with the upbringing of early American founders.This theological and economic evolution was providentially timed, setting the stage for the independence movement and the framing of the Constitution. [12:29]HOW DOES TODAY'S ECONOMY COMPARE TO THAT OF THE FOUNDING ERA?Current economic practices have drifted towards the control and taxation reminiscent of the tyranny the American colonies rebelled against.The challenge today is not armed conflict but an intellectual and cultural one, advocating for a return to biblical principles of private property over government control. [14:22]WHAT ACTIONS ARE NEEDED TO RETURN TO A BIBLICAL ECONOMY?Christians should lead by example in economic productivity and voluntary sharing, countering the compulsion inherent in communist systems.To prevent the state from stepping in to solve problems, individual and collective actions in repentance, prayer, engagement, and especially sharing within the community are crucial. On today's program, Rob also answers listener questions: Will starting to withdraw from my annuities cause me to have a tax issue since I don't currently file taxes, and does the IRS monitor deposits over $600?I'm retired and have a $50,000 annuity; the company suggested converting it to a precious metal IRA - is this possible and advisable in my 70s? Remember, you can call in to ask your questions most days at (800) 525-7000. Faith & Finance is also available on the Moody Radio Network as well as American Family Radio. Visit our website at FaithFi.comwhere you can join the FaithFi Community, and give as we expand our outreach.   Remember, you can call in to ask your questions most days at (800) 525-7000. Faith & Finance is also available on the Moody Radio Network and American Family Radio. Visit our website at FaithFi.com where you can join the FaithFi Community and give as we expand our outreach.

On this episode, Payton discusses two different killers with almost identical methods of luring victims to their deaths. One of which was on a Dating Game Show and won! The man later became one of the most notorious killers in American History.  Rodney Alcala — unidentified women: https://www.flickr.com/photos/scpr/albums/72157623600695928 Bill Bradford — unidentified women: https://www.nbcnews.com/id/wbna14026634 Lonnie Franklin — unidentified women: https://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/grim-sleeper-serial-killer-suspects-secret-photos/2/ Episode sources: abcnews.go.com/US/dating-game-serial-killer-connected-victims-decades-deaths/story?id=75061341 abcnews.go.com/US/serial-killer-rodney-alcalas-photographs-recognize/story?id=75067205 americansecuritytoday.com/dating-game-killer-dies-yet-police-still-seek-ids-of-women-photographs/ caselaw.findlaw.com/court/ca-supreme-court/1122302.html casetext.com/case/people-v-bradford-2 cbsnews.com/news/serial-killers-secret-photos-21-women-identified-from-rodney-alcalas-archives/#textSerial20Killer27s20Secret20Photos3A2021Alcala27s2022Archives22202D20CBS20News cbsnews.com/news/exposed/ cbsnews.com/pictures/grim-sleeper-serial-killer-suspects-secret-photos/ cnn.com/2006/LAW/07/26/bradford.interview/index.html crime.about.com/od/serial/a/Profile-Of-Serial-Killer-Rodney-Alcala.htm criminalminds.fandom.com/wiki/Rodney_Alcala en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodney_Alcala en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Bradford_(murderer) en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grim_Sleeper facebook.com/story.php/?story_fbid=1609711022811430&id=209739509475262&paipv=0&eav=AfZZfyl2SC1NhbD-ZpBaAdeKUJNCQAWj6cdrHecP_hK0R9gKv8KSEIbhjjBEpZbZUP4&_rdr flickr.com/photos/scpr/albums/72157623600695928/page1 imdb.com/title/tt1631219/ kpcc.org/2010-03-16/missing-women-identified-convicted-serial-killers murderpedia.org/male.A/a/alcala-rodney.htm ocregister.com/2010/03/17/4-alcala-photos-linked-to-missing-women people.com/crime/rodney-alcala-serial-killer-woman-survived-attack-as-child the-sun.com/news/8664600/who-tali-shapiro-rodney-alcala thecinemaholic.com/where-is-chris-camacho-now thecinemaholic.com/where-is-tali-shapiro-now web.archive.org/web/20151031182957/http://www.ocweekly.com/2010-01-21/news/rodney-alcala-murder/2/ youtube.com/watch?v=BbbUz43Tahk Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

William Bradford - Episode 1 - On Plymouth Plantation - The First In Colonial Literature! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Welcome, Kyle DeCicco-Carey to In-Focus Podcast Number 161! Kyle is the Library Director at the Millicent Library in Fairhaven, Massachusetts, and speaks with us on the fifth and last episode of this series about famous Fairhaven artists. This episode is about Albertus van Beest. Our five-part series of conversations on celebrated Fairhaven artists from days gone by with Kyle have included: Podcast Episode 132  - William Bradford Podcast Episode 133 - Lemuel Eldred Podcast Episode 146 - Robert Swain Gifford Podcast Number 152 - Charles Henry Gifford This series is supported in part by a grant from the Fairhaven Cultural Council, a local agency, which is supported by the Mass Cultural Council, a state agency. Albertus van Beest was born in Rotterdam, where he grew up near the city's wharves. His talent for sketching got the attention of Prince Henry of the Netherlands, who asked him to travel with him and the Dutch fleet to the Mediterranean. According to the New Bedford Whaling Museum, Albert van Beest (1820-1860) "was born in Holland, [and] spent three years collaborating with William Bradford. A talented marine artist, Van Beest was particularly skilled at capturing the drama of shipwrecks and storms at sea." His travels, the first of which were over a span of three summers, took him to Morocco and many other places. He continued sketching on his travels to Brazil, Iceland, Patagonia, and the Falklands. In 1845 he left home and sailed to New York, where he lived for fifteen years. One of van Beest's pupils was Fairhaven, Massachusetts marine painter William Bradford. R. Swain Gifford is also said to have been one of his pupils. Bradford sought him out in New York and invited him to share a studio in nearby New Bedford. They worked and collaborated at that location for three years. Van Beest was as dramatic and temperamental as the scenes and subjects of his marine paintings. He returned to New York City where he died at the age of forty. The In-Focus Podcasts are up close and personal conversations with the makers, performers, supporters, and cultural impresarios of the remarkable creative community of South Coast Massachusetts including New Bedford, Dartmouth, Fairhaven, Westport, and beyond.  

In this episode, Crawlspace Media's Tim Pilleri & Lance Reenstierna speak with Laura Riste about the disappearance of William Bradford Bishop. Bishop disappeared in 1976 after slaughtering his family. If you have any information please contact your local FBI office. Thank you to Laura Riste for her help on this episode. Please check out her site about Trenny Gibson at https://www.canadiangurl77.com/ and check out the new FB page for Trenny's case: https://www.facebook.com/searching.for.trenny. Check out our Missing subscription service where we have a bonus show and ad-free episodes! https://missing.supportingcast.fm/ To hear the Generation Why's 4-part series, follow Generation Why wherever you get your podcasts. Go to https://airdoctorpro.com/ and use promo code MMM and, depending on the model, you'll receive UP TO 39% off or UP TO $300 off! Follow Missing: TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@missingcsm YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/missingcsm IG: https://www.instagram.com/MissingCSM/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/MissingCSM FB: https://www.facebook.com/MissingCSM Check out our entire network at http://crawlspace-media.com/ Follow Private Investigations For the Missing and please donate if you can: https://investigationsforthemissing.org/ http://piftm.org/donate https://twitter.com/PIFortheMissing https://www.facebook.com/PIFortheMissing/ https://www.instagram.com/investigationsforthemissing/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Enjoy another Spotlight episode featuring: The Pilgrims & Plymouth Colony*.  Relax while you learn all about the Mayflower, Plymouth Rock, the First Thanksgiving, John Carver, William Bradford, Myles Standish, Squanto, Samoset, Chief Massasoit, and more. Become a Silk+ Member & try FREE access to all the Archive & Bonus Episodes of Calm History (& 400+ … Continue reading #18 | The Pilgrims & Plymouth Colony [1605-1690]

This is the first of several non-consecutive episodes about Roger Williams, whom we have teased a few times already.  Williams was one of early New England's immensely consequential figures, perhaps in the long run more so than either William Bradford or John Winthrop.  While the intellectual and civic contributions of Williams were legion, there are four startlingly modern things that he essentially invented.  First, Williams argued that requiring people to attend church and worship in a particular way – a practice the English called “conformity” and essentially a universal obligation in Christian Europe for centuries – was an offense unto God. Williams thought that people must be free to find their own faith and follow their own beliefs. In a universally religious time, this amounted to a wholesale reconsideration of the “proper relation between a free individual and the state.”  Second, Williams challenged the settled relationship between the church, man's manifestation of God on this earth, and the state.  He concluded they should be entirely separate, an idea that most Americans today take as a given. Third, Williams founded the new colony of Rhode Island, the first political entity anywhere in the world dedicated to the proposition of religious freedom and liberty of conscience.  Finally, Williams learned the local Algonquian language and studied the indigenous peoples of New England with a compassion and intellectual honesty that was, for its time, very unusual and arguably unprecedented. In order to understand Williams, however, we need to know something about Puritan theology, an introduction to which is the main topic of this episode! More exciting that it sounds! And, anyway, it will be useful background for many of the episodes to come. Twitter: @TheHistoryOfTh2 Facebook: The History of the Americans Podcast Selected references for this episode Apple Computer, "The Crazy Ones" John M. Barry, Roger Williams and the Creation of the American Soul David Hackett Fischer, Albion's Seed: Four British Folkways in America Edmund Morgan, Roger Williams: The Church and State Prenanthes serpentaria

William Bradford would lure women out into the desert to photograph them, but he would have something else in mind. decades later police would set to identify potential victims by releasing a picture board full of potential victims  First Phorm link⭐️ https://1stphorm.com/?a_aid=marieschedler&a_bid=acc524e5&chan=Lostinthewoods our links: https://www.instagram.com/lostinthewoodspodcast/ https://www.patreon.com/lostinthewoodspodcast https://my-store-11745950.creator-spring.com/ https://linktr.ee/ buy us coffee☕️ https://venmo.com/code?user_id=2323643837186048330&created=1633816408.531276&printed=1 http://paypal.me/lostinthewoodspod sources: https://vocal.media/criminal/the-death-row-poet https://www.cnn.com/2006/LAW/07/26/bradford.interview/index.html https://parkpredators.com/episode-11-the-photographer/ https://www.flickr.com/photos/joshuatree/198799511 https://murderpedia.org/male.B/b/bradford-william-photos.htm https://www.grunge.com/421444/how-many-victims-did-convicted-killer-william-bradford-really-have/ https://www.grunge.com/391608/this-state-has-produced-the-most-serial-killers/ https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-12-19-me-7054-story.html https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUWSlh87A3o

Deborah Sampson could count William Bradford and Myles Standish in her family tree. That tree didn't include Robert Shurtlliff; that was the alias Deborah used to enlist in the Continental Army. Research: "Deborah Sampson." Encyclopedia of World Biography Online, vol. 37, Gale, 2017. Gale In Context: Biography, link.gale.com/apps/doc/K1631010696/GPS?u=mlin_n_melpub&sid=bookmark-GPS&xid=67aa7490. Accessed 13 June 2022. Cowan, Leigh Alison. “The Woman Who Sneaked Into George Washington's Army.” New York Times. 7/2/2019. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/02/arts/design/the-woman-who-sneaked-into-george-washingtons-army.html Davis, Curtis Carroll. “A ‘Galantress' Gets Her Due: The Earliest Published Notice of Deborah Sampson.” Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society  1981-10-21: Vol 91 Iss 2. https://www.americanantiquarian.org/proceedings/44517675.pdf Foner, Philip S. “Black Participation in the Centennial of 1876.” Phylon (1960-) , 4th Qtr., 1978, Vol. 39, No. 4 (4th Qtr., 1978). https://www.jstor.org/stable/274895 Gannett, Deborah Sampson. “Diary of Deborah Sampson Gannett in 1802 (facsimile).” Facsimile by Eugene Tappan. 1901. https://archive.org/details/diaryofdeborahsa00gann/ Grant De Pauw, Linda. “REPLY: Deborah Sampson Gannett.” H-Minvera Discussion Logs. 2/9/2000. https://lists.h-net.org/cgi-bin/logbrowse.pl?trx=vx&list=h-minerva&month=0002&week=b&msg=7zkXCrd1QbfeT5kbVeln8A&user=&pw= Hiltner, Judith. “'The Example of our Heroine': Deborah Sampson and the Legacy of Herman Mann's The Female Review.”  American Studies , Spring, 2000, Vol. 41, No. 1. Via JSTOR. https://www.jstor.org/stable/40643118 Hiltner, Judith. “She Bled in Secret': Deborah Sampson, Herman Mann and ‘The Female Review.'” Early American Literature , 1999, Vol. 34, No. 2. Via JSTOR. https://www.jstor.org/stable/25057161 Hiltner, Judth R. “'Like a Bewildered Star": Deborah Sampson, Herman Mann, and ‘Address, Delivered with Applause'.” Rhetoric Society Quarterly , Spring, 1999, Vol. 29, No. 2. Via JSTOR. https://www.jstor.org/stable/3886083 Historic New England. “Gown.” https://www.historicnewengland.org/explore/collections-access/gusn/189811/ Katz, Brigit. “Diary Sheds Light on Deborah Sampson, Who Fought in the Revolutionary War.” Smithsonian. 7/2/2019. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/diary-sheds-light-deborah-sampson-who-fought-revolutionary-war-180972547/ Lafleur, Greta L. “Precipitous Sensations: Herman Mann's ‘The Female Review' (1797), Botanical Sexuality, and the Challenge of Queer Historiography.” Early American Literature , 2013, Vol. 48, No. 1. Via JSTOR. https://www.jstor.org/stable/24476307 Letter from Paul Revere to William Eustis, 20 February 1804. Transcript. https://www.masshist.org/database/viewer.php?item_id=326&img_step=1&mode=transcript#page1 Mann, Herman. “The female review: or, Memoirs of an American young lady; whose life and character are peculiarly distinguished--being a Continental soldier, for nearly three years, in the late American war. During which time, she performed the duties of every department, into which she was called, with punctual exactness, fidelity and honor, and preserved her chastity inviolate, by the most artful concealment of her sex. : With an appendix, containing charcteristic traits, by different hands; her taste for economy, principles of domestic education, &c..”  1797 . https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N24494.0001.001?view=toc Michals, Debra, editor. “Deborah Sampson.” National Women's History Museum. https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/deborah-sampson Michals, Debra.  "Margaret Cochran Corbin."  National Women's History Museum.  2015. www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/margaret-cochran-corbin. Nell, William C. “Colored Patriots of the American Revolution.” Robert F. Wallcut. 1855. https://archive.org/details/coloredpatriots00stowgoog/ Nellis, Rachel. “Deborah Sampson at War.” The American Revolution Institute. May 15, 2020. https://www.americanrevolutioninstitute.org/video/deborah-sampson-at-war/ Norwood, William Frederick. “Deborah Sampson, Alias Robert Shirtliff, Fighting Female of the Continental Line.” Bulletin of the History of Medicine. March-April 1957. Via JSTOR. http://www.jstor.com/stable/44443973 Phoner, Philip S. “Black Participation in the Centennial of 1876.” Phylon (1960-) , 4th Qtr., 1978, Vol. 39, No. 4. Via JSTOR. : https://www.jstor.org/stable/274895 Roberts, Cokie. “Founding Mothers.” Excerpted at the Museum of the American Revolution. https://www.amrevmuseum.org/read-the-revolution/founding-mothers Serfilippi, Jessie. “Deborah Sampson.” George Washington's Mount Vernon Center for Digital History. https://www.mountvernon.org/library/digitalhistory/digital-encyclopedia/article/deborah-sampson/ Sharon Historical Society. “Publications of the Sharon Historical Society of Sharon, Massachusetts.” 1905. https://archive.org/details/publicationsofsh02shar/ See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.