Olivia: Not without My Daughter

By Natasha Hemlock

Alright, so let's get into it. This story took a long time, it came out shy of 12k words but I WORKED ON THIS FOR 1.5 MONTHS! Holy cow, and there's concepts in this story that I'm not certain I had tackled before as a writer. At least not to this extent.

I'll share the info as I have it in my head, though of course if it is not in the canon story then it can technically probably be said that it's up to interpretation. ANYHOW, pardon I'm having a few drinks because the world is kinda going absolutely tits-up at the moment, ANYHOW, Olivia is trying to survive in the post-apocalypse in northeastern United States. In my mind it's Maine, seemingly a rather rural part of Maine, but I dunno if I mentioned it being Maine in the story.

The cult, and this is kinda 'SPOILER ALERT' territory, the cult are able to change things on a sort of biological level. Create 'futa,' short for 'futanari,' meaning females who can grow a penis or penis-like appendage.

These futa cultists can fuck, they can impregnate, they work in groups and are utterly dedicated to their cause, unwavering, and they do hold some true power.

There will be breeding...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Natasha Hemlock
• Release date: Nov 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215027813

Natasha Hemlock

Ah, a wee biography. Well I'm a writer, an erotica writer in particular, and have been partaking in sexual creative writing for over a decade and a half as of the time of my writing this (June 7, 2022). Most of that was spent just writing for fun however, I've only been endeavoring to get paid for my writings since 2016 and began pursuing commissions/ghostwriting in 2017.I've been writing on Fiverr for several years, have amassed more than 140 five-out-of-five star reviews, and as of spring of this year I have been able to make writing my full-time career. It took years of dedication, but it would appear I've made it. A huge thanks to the dozens and dozens of people who have hired me, particularly to those who remained long-time buyers of mine for months or even years, and especially to those whom have given me their consent to do as I like with the piece I had written for them.Though as for my origins as a writer, I have memories as a child of writing tiny stories by hand on loose leaf (is that a Canadian term? 'Lined paper.') I think my longest one may have been one whole page while others were just a paragraph or two. I didn't REALLY get into creative writing, though, until around my early teens. Initially it was non-sexual, but as puberty wreaked its havoc on my mind and body you can imagine that changed with time.My typing speed quickened, was constantly putting effort into my grammar (even when texting on old flip-phones), my vocabulary broadened, and even in 2016-17 while writing/editing my first self-published book (it was under a pseudonym) I was learning ways in which to improve my grammar. Words that I capitalized that I wasn't supposed to, things like that.So here I am. I get hired for commissions frequently, usually 2-4 orders in my queue at any given time and almost always three-figures. I write at a rate of about 2000+ words per hour unless I'm actively doing research and/or using translation services online while writing. That can slow me down to seemingly 1000-1500 words per hour or so, depending on how often I click-out of the word document. I generally do not edit, nor do I use a spell-checker. I deliver first drafts and very rarely am I ever requested a revision. My first drafts are extremely clean and generally I'm able to backspace-and-correct typos as I write. As mentioned, over 140 glowing 5/5 star reviews out of a total of 151 as of when I'm writing this. My process works.Well then, if you purchase any of my stories then thank you very much and I dearly hope that you enjoy it! If you're interested in having a story written custom for you personally, you can contact me via Fiverr, though do be careful with your wording. Very unfortunate how censorious they are, they will auto-flag your message if they detect certain words they don't like. Still, I owe that site my livelihood, and hopefully in time Smashwords will likewise be owed my gratefulness as it too contributes to my being able to put food on the table.Thanks for reading! :)"The literate keep me fed."- Piper Wright (FallOut 4)

Book preview

Olivia

Not Without My Daughter

By: Natasha Hemlock

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2023 by Natasha Hemlock

All Rights Reserved

Author Note: All Characters in/around Sex Scenes are 18+

Cl-clack.

Leaning towards the flickering half-spent candle, she blew out the flame as she squinted in the newfound electric light.

Mmgh... A dismayed groan, eyes closed shut, her head given a shake. Shoulda had the power turned off before the batteries were put in.

The lantern was placed down off to the side, steam sizzling over her wood stove as firewood crackled within. Fish getting fried up, and a small pot of garden vegetables boiling in some salted water, ready to be sprinkled with fresh sea salt and perhaps a LITTLE spice for extra flavor if desired though in general it's just good to keep up on salt. A lot tends to leave in sweat and hard-living has no shortage of that.

The house creaked as a gust rushed by, whistling through the trees outside. All curtains drawn, however... better safe than sorry.

Some faint beads of moisture dotted the woman's glistening forehead as she gave the veggies a stir, before turning over the gutted fish in the pan. Just about done...

... But where that girl at? She muttered to herself, stepping aside before leaning forth to gently push-aside the edge of the curtain.

Still some light out, but it was later than she'd usually still be gone.

She could feel heat coming up along the side of her body nearest the stove, her bosom jostling freely as she leaned. Never a cool place around a crackling woodstove, and it sent warmth through the hall to the bedrooms beyond that compared to the kitchen were at a more comfortable temperature.

No sign of movement at the foot-paths, her brown eyes flicked about as she looked for any silhouettes or movement that was unusual to her commonplace cautious glances to the treeline.

Heat ran up her armpit and along her teat as her intense, war-ready gaze glared.

She pushed herself upright and rounded over to the doorway, clacking the latch to disengage the lock and cracked the wooden portal open a ways. The cool evening breeze outside wafted in, starkly cold against her dark, hot, moist flesh from the stove as she glances over to a different section of treeline at a different footpath.

Chocolate nipples drew taught in the breeze that invaded along her half-naked form. Her ear, perked, listened for anything that might be unfamiliar.

Uneasy feeling... uneasy damn feeling...

Fuckin'...

CLUNK! Clack.

She closed and locked the door again, shaking her head as she marched back to the stove in her sneakers and jeans.

Her lips pursed, tending to the food anew, she deemed the fish to be done so grabbed the rag over on the counter and draped it over the pure metal handle of the old cast-iron pan. Her arm, thick with muscle, hoisted the hefty cookwear up before letting her other hand join her first, holding it steadily with both hands before placing it down on the solid wooden dining table well away from anything the intense heat could damage.

Crazy-ass... She muttered, forking a potato and lifting it vertically, watching it slip off with absolute ease. Appeared done; soon the pot was taken outside where the wind and cold brought bumps to her fair ebony skin, re-warmed nips tensing anew as steam rose. Boiling-hot salty water was carefully poured down to