Letter Eight: Yes, find that wet nurse.

Darling,

I cannot wait to set my eyes on our newborn little girl. I am in a trench, single-footed and fighting right now. Tell Benjamin to refrain from cleaning his metal rod in your presence, I do not approve of it. Fondle as many breasts as possible and make sure you choose wisely. Write me about each. I must go. I run faint. Colonel just got shot. I will write at a better time.

Your quick footed strong man,

Bentley

Letter Seven: little Penny is born.

Darling,
            Really, you have lost a foot? Well, I am sure the children will be able to adjust. And a foot is not required for our nights alone together—though there was that one position. Anyway, little Penny was born yesterday! I have already put an Ad in the gazette for a wet nurse. “Wanted: A good, healthy breast.” I have already received one woman today. She had a fine breast but I fondled for inconsistencies and there were a few.  She also smoked too much and had a poor diet. So the search for a wet nurse continues.  On other news, Benjamin has built a log play house for the children. He is quite great with his hands. The way he cleans his guns and smooths oil before he cocks them is quite thorough and impressive. Well love, I hope the leeches have yet to suck you dry. Pretend the little creatures are my lips upon you. 

P.S I've included a portrait of your brother Benjamin that was taken after he returned from the hunt. Quite dashing, is he not?

Love your little succubus,

Muffy

Letter Six: No, one-footed and hard, rather.

Darling Muffy,

I have only lost but a foot. My left foot to be precise. The general is looking into a new revolutionary prosthetic foot for me. It will be wooden and lifelike. Darling there is also this new treatment they’ve started giving us for pain and in this instance, limb loss— leeches. These little creatures suck on the skin and remove the bad blood of sickness and infection. Wonderful is it not? Despite the loss of blood, I still grow erect with thoughts of you…you have that affect on me, my round siren. I have begun to feel quite lightheaded and ill now; the doctor says it’s normal for the first few days. I will write you again soon, love.

Your pale faced devil,

Bentley

Letter Five: One-legged and brooding.

My Love,

            Naturally Benjamin could never take your place in the household—although he has been an immense help. He even taught little Seymour how to hunt. How is the war going? I hope all your appendages remain intact, seeing as how I have dreamed of your member every night this week (perhaps it’s the hormones.) Mrs. Goodwell next door just received word that her husband lost his left leg in a trench. She went on and on at tea today about how she could never imagine making love to him again. I told her she was being cruel. I suppose if you ever lost yours I would be aright with it. I have always wondered what it would be like mounting a one-legged torso. It would be wildly exciting and new. And let us be honest, if you lost your left leg, your right one would not be lonely. My belly has grown significantly in the past month! I have had to move on to a larger corset that only Ambrosia can manage to fit on me. And I only fainted once today! Well darling, I cannot dream more fondly of the day that I will finally get to caress your sweet rouged face. ‘Til then!

Your bulbous darling,

Muffy