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Medication intended to ease him from the agony of the here, to the relief of the hereafter. “You know, Sally, I can still see him, 60 years ago today – well 60 years ago at 10 o’clock anyway. He was so pale and nervous as he waited for me at the altar. I was wearing my veil down of course, as a modest bride should, and he couldn’t see me as I smiled at him. But his face! The relief that I had actually come to him. To be married to him. As if I could NOT have come to him. Sally, your father and I have had the most wonderfully happy marriage. I wouldn’t change a single day of it. Well perhaps the odd day when I had to be angry with him over something totally unimportant! But you have to do don’t you? You have to be mad at your man sometimes don’t you?” “Your father was always romantic. And it was Daddy who wanted us to be married today, Valentine’s Day, 60 years ago. Every year, every single year except for when he was a prisoner in the war, and even then when he came home to me he. She gagged at the disgusting sight and turned her head. She found Madison under a towering walnut tree. As usual, her half-sister’s dark hair covered her face as she read a book — all in a world of her own. Diana kicked at Maddi’s legging-covered shin as she loomed over. Once Maddi looked up, Diana gestured with her finger for her to move over. “So I was thinking.” Diana began without further greeting. “We should add a bonus to our scores for every baby that’s born futa.” “How much of a bonus?” Maddi asked with her eyes still grazing the pages of small type. “A multiplier of 1.5 seems fair.” Diana decided after a nod. “Bullshit.” Maddi flipped several pages back and slammed her finger on a dog-eared page. “That’s an awful lot of bonus for something not under our control. Didn’t you read what Dr. Drake wrote in her book? The probability of one futanari and one human female producing a futanari child is one-in-four.” Diana rolled her eyes. She scratched her back on the rough bark.
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