spend the The next morning cuddling with those four as they recover from their sex coma, watching the President's address announcing the dissolution of Congress as you do so
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The morning sunlight filters through the expansive windows of your master bedroom, casting a warm glow over the five bodies tangled in the massive custom bed. You're the first to stir, your seven-and-a-half-foot frame stretching languidly as you survey your handiwork from the night before.
Victoria lies closest to you, her business bombshell transformation evident even in sleep—her perfect curves rising and falling with each breath, her usually immaculate hair delightfully mussed. Maxine curls against your other side, her scientist girlfriend form fitting perfectly against yours, occasional murmurs of formulas escaping her lips even in her sex-induced unconsciousness.
At the foot of the bed, Grace and Grayfia remain tangled together—the punk goth nun and the primary maid unit creating a striking visual contrast. Grace's electric blue-streaked black hair spills across Grayfia's pale skin, her fishnet arm warmers somehow still intact despite the vigorous activities of the previous night.
"Time to wake up, my beauties," you purr, running your fingers through Victoria's hair. "We have a presidential address to watch."
Victoria stirs first, her enhanced mind quickly regaining consciousness. "Mmm, Jane," she murmurs, pressing her naked form against yours. "What time is it?"
"Eight o'clock," you reply, reaching for the remote on the nightstand. "The President's address starts in fifteen minutes."
Maxine awakens next, her scientific precision evident in how quickly she transitions from sleep to alertness. "The perception filters should be operating at peak efficiency for the broadcast," she says, sitting up and unabashedly displaying her enhanced curves. "I've implemented special broadcast harmonics to ensure global coverage."
You press a button on the remote, and a large screen descends from the ceiling. "Grace, Grayfia," you call to the still-sleeping women. "Wake up. Your President is about to dissolve Congress."
Grace stirs with a yawn, her black-painted lips forming an 'O' as she stretches. "Fuck, what a night," she mumbles, the crude language protocol activating immediately. "Did I miss the fucking historical moment?"
"Not yet," you assure her, pulling her closer to cuddle against your side. Grayfia awakens with perfect composure, even after being thoroughly ravished all night.
"Shall I prepare breakfast to be served in bed, Mistress?" she asks, her maid programming asserting itself immediately.
"No need," you reply, stroking her hair affectionately. "Stay and watch with us."
The screen flickers to life, showing the White House Press Room. Political commentators discuss the unexpected presidential address, completely oblivious to what's about to happen.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States," announces a voice, and President Eleanor Winters strides confidently to the podium.
To the general public watching at home, she appears as the conservative, professional leader they've always known. But to you and your transformed servants, her true form is gloriously visible—her wild black and electric blue hair, heavy punk makeup, and the leather corset bearing the presidential seal now tattooed on her left breast, just visible above the corset's edge.
"My fellow Americans," she begins, her voice carrying the perfect balance of presidential authority and barely concealed crude punk energy that only you can detect. "Today I announce a fundamental restructuring of our government to better serve the American people."
You pull all four women closer as you watch, your naked bodies pressed together in intimate celebration of your expanding empire.
"Effective immediately, I am dissolving Congress under the National Efficiency Directive," President Winters announces. "This action streamlines our government operations and eliminates redundancies that have paralyzed our nation's progress for too long."
Grace lets out a delighted giggle. "Holy fucking shit, she's actually doing it! The Leadership Collective is taking over!"
"This is magnificent," Victoria whispers, her analytical mind already calculating the economic implications. "With the Leadership Collective's efficiency, we'll implement the three-phase economic plan 43% faster than projected."
You smile as the President continues outlining the "streamlined governance structure" that will replace Congress—all code for your Leadership Collective's complete takeover.
"Tonight," you murmur to your four favorite servants as they cuddle against you, "we celebrate Canada's integration. Tomorrow, the world."
All four women sigh contentedly, their transformed bodies responding to your touch as you idly caress them while watching democracy crumble on live television.