The morning came in through the tall windows in soft golden slabs, laying itself across a bed that had been through a war and lost.
Three wives lay side by side across the wreckage. Vivian, the thick green-haired elf, Olivia the priestess, and Elara the pink-haired succubus, all three of them hugely pregnant, all three of them with their heavy tits leaking milk in slow white rivulets onto the sheets, their limbless bodies arranged like a display of pastries in a bakery window. Their faces were peaceful.
Their stumps rested. Their hands and feet hung on the great hanger by the wall, wiggling occasionally in their dreams like a rack of sleeping birds.
The babies had been fed and moved to the nursery alcove with the wet nurses. The maids had collapsed into corners. The youngest maid still lay glazed and limbless and smiling faintly in her sleep.
