"OK, Osbert. When are you going to admit it?"

"Where are we being admitted? Do I need a ticket?"

"Darling, you are an exasperating bastard, but I love you. When will you abandon your male ego and admit you are lost?"

"When I'm lost, I suppose. Is there a reason for this conversation?"

"Only that we have been driving through the same landscape for half of eternity by now. If we have a destination shouldn't we have found our destiny by this time?"

"I suppose it must be your circumscribed upbringing that's at fault."

"I'm going to be scribing something permanent and obscene on your delightful ass, you ass, if you don't admit you haven't the faintest idea where to find the alleged home of this deceased Aunt of yours."

"I don't suppose a city girl such as yourself can be expected to perceive the subtle variations of hill and dale that makes each mile of this lovely countryside distinct to those of us who grew up in bucolic splendor."

"Is that your country bumpkin way of saying you're lost? Have you ever thought of asking for directions, macho man?"

"I'm afraid I am not fluent in bovine or equine patois. Perhaps if you happen to number that skill in your repertoire you could translate. Other than the methane produced by the contented cows in yonder field, I don't think there is a gas station in the general vicinity."

"Just thank providence that you're driving and I can't clobber you without crashing the car and damaging my own body. When you stop this car I'm going to perform an emergency tonsillectomy without anesthetic in the hopes you will suffer for weeks."

"Sorry, too late. I got bowls and bowls of ice cream as a ten year old when the doctor beat you to it. All that ice cream wasn't anywhere near as much fun as it sounded before the surgery, though."

"If you don't tell me when we're going to get there I'll remove another appendage that I damn well know is still attached and put it in the freezer. Ice cream, indeed!"

"You’re a cold woman, Daphne. Note that, from personal knowledge, I cannot claim you are frigid, but I do feel a distinct chill."

"Dammit Osbert, will you tell me when we will get there?"

"See that glow on the horizon ahead? When the glow becomes an obscure rural town we will be arriving in Siphilitica Falls, home of the Sirloin-Steakers Grilling and Roasting Society and it's late, lamented president, my Aunt Arethusa."

"An answer! A clear and unambiguous answer! Perhaps I'll leave you intact another day or two."

"A kind gesture on your part. I do have to admit that Aunt Arethusa quite unmanned me when she was among the living."

You poor dear. It doesn’t seem to have been a permanent condition."

"For me, perhaps, but she unmanned herself quite permanently."

"Is that why you inherited, because there was no husband in the picture?"

"I'm afraid I'm using 'unmanned' in a more literal sense, darling. My Crazy Aunt Arethusa was born my Crazy Uncle Alpheus."

"Osbert, are you confusing one of your plots with your family history?"

"Darling, I have not begun to confuse you with my family history. Just wait until I tell you about Cousin Hermes. I can assure you that the only plot involved with this story is the one currently occupied by Aunt Arethusa."

"Who used to be your uncle?"

"Precisely."

"Osbert, I think we should seriously consider adoption. I don't want our children to be characters in a Greek Farce."

"Perhaps we should wait until I propose before we consider the origin of our hypothetical children."

"It always pays to be prepared for the future."

"I don't think it's possible to prepare for my extended family."

"So that's why you waited until we were almost there to tell me about your Aunt who was really your uncle?"

"That and I don't want to sleep in the place alone. There are stories...."

"Stories without plots again? Sounds too much like a porn flick."

"In her youth, Auntie looked good enough to have a part in a porn flick, I have to say. Her little surprise might have lent a bit of spice to the action, but I can't really see her in anything so lowbrow as porn. Since she was 89 when she died I suspect any film she made would be in black and white."

"Maybe we should check her DVD collection - you never know."

"Along with everything else. I suppose I got named executor because of all the summers I spent with her as a kid."

"Your mother sent you off to live with your Aunt who used to be your uncle?"

"Why do I have the feeling that a Gilbert and Sullivan chorus is going to answer that line? Family is family, mom loved her brother even when she became a sister. Dad was a little put off, but what mom wanted, mom got."

"So your family just changed pronouns and life went on?"

"Family get-togethers were always a little strained when she showed up. We were much too sophisticated to make a scene, but Arethusa was a primal force that always found a way past mere temporal difficulties."

"You know? I'm surprised your family hasn't burned you at the stake. You sound too much like Oscar Wilde to live a long life. Speaking of stakes, what's with the eating society bit?"

"Auntie loved screwball mysteries and regency romance novels. One of her favorite authors, Charlotte MacLeod, had a character named Arethusa who wrote regency romances and ate her relatives out of house and home. The fictional Arethusa was president of the Grub-and-Staker's Gardening and Roving Club, so Auntie created the Sirloin-Steakers Grilling and Roasting Society as a way to honor her idol and fill her face."

"I hesitate to ask, but with all that eating did they need a queen size casket?"

"Auntie had a pair of hollow legs, which she displayed as often as possible. For an old broad she had great legs. She was a size 12 and let everybody know about it, too. She had the most amazing and flamboyant wardrobe I have ever seen"

"Hmmmm... Size 12? You would be more like a 16, so her clothes won't do you any good."

"Daphne, you don't expect me to follow in my Aunt's high heeled footsteps, I hope."

"I have trouble picturing you in a dress, but some things do run in families, I've heard."

"Like embarrassing names. How do you think I got stuck with the name Osbert."

"All right, how?"

"Mom shared her taste for screwball mysteries. MacLeod's Arethusa had a nephew named Osbert, who was an author of Western novels under the name 'Lex Laramie'. I'm not sure if I would have liked to be a 'Lex' any more than I like being an 'Osbert', but I wasn't given any choice in the matter."

"Names like that should be regulated by law. Now I know the answer to my speculations about the sanity in your family."

"Just be careful, sweetie. Osbert married the former Dittiny Henbit. Things could always get worse."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"The hand of fate will not be denied. I got hung with Osbert and somehow became a writer, even if I mostly stick to non-fiction. By the way, Dittiny and Osbert had twins the first time out."

"Adoption! There is no way your genes should remain in the pool!"

"Considering my family, I think 'gene puddle' would be more appropriate. Well, here it is, Auntie's venerable, haunted mansion."

Osbert pulled the car into the long drive and approached a sprawling old Victorian home with porches, turrets and gables sprouting everywhere, all liberally covered with intricate gingerbread. Gallantly opening the car door for Daphne she exited slowly, gaping at the confection before her.

"Impressive, isn't it? Auntie went all out in restoring the place when she got rich. The original architect was much more conservative with his decoration, but what Auntie wanted, Auntie got. She hired the best carvers and carpenters to gussie the old place up."

"How the devil do you keep the place painted? There must be a million beads on all those doodads!"

"How the devil do I know. I'm just the executor and new owner. I suppose I'll find out in a few years when it needs painting again."

"How do we get in?"

"City girl! The key is under a rock in the garden, just like every other house in town. Burglars are not a major problem out here. I don't think Auntie ever locked her door while she was alive."

"How about the ghosts?"

"As long as they don't make off with the silver I'm not too worried about the ghosts."

"Do I detect a note of disbelief in your tone, Osbert?"

"How about a symphony? Cripes, Daphne! Any old relic like this one that stands empty for more than a week is going to get a reputation. Damn good thing the lawn company kept the place mowed and trimmed or we would have had idiots with ectoplasm meters and TV cameras swarming the place. One of Auntie's author buddies even offered to do a 'non-fiction' book about the place and offered me a measly 10% cut if there was enough juicy material."

"So, you going to write the book yourself?"

"Not likely. I'd need a pseudonym and 'Lex Laramie' is already taken. I'll let some grizzled cowboy impersonator give ghost tours around the real Laramie in the Old West."

"Your autobiography would be a best seller. An author with a goofy name inherited from a transsexual aunt who was goofy about a screwball author who wrote about a goofy author with an even goofier name. Kind of like the snake that eats it's tail."

"I will have you know that 'Osbert' is a perfectly legitimate and distinguished name."

"Yeah, if you were born 150 years ago or decided to become a rock star. I suppose biting the heads off of bats would be something that goes well with the old manse here."

"Speaking of bats, I have a girlfriend who's one."

"Come here and let me bite your neck, darling one. It won't hurt a bit."

"That's vampires. Technically a vampire only bites in human form, then changes to bat form to get away from the guy with the wooden stake."

"Oh goody! We could form a Wooden Steakers Grave and Garlic Society."

"Could we open the door and go inside before you file the charter and bylaws? I suddenly feel a need to puke my guts out."

"By all means! Let me hold the door!"

"What a beautiful old place! Osbert, I love it!"

"I've always liked the place myself. I spent many pleasant suppers here as a child."

"Surely you mean 'summers'."

"Nope, I meant suppers. I told you Auntie liked to eat. Wait 'till you see the kitchen."

"I'm more interested in the bedroom."

"Why darling, I thought you'd never ask. I'd adore showing you into my bed... room. Come upstairs, then."

"This place needs an elevator!"

"All the better to keep your lovely legs in tone. Welcome to the Master Suite, my love."

"Oh. My. God!"

"I doubt She had anything to do with it. I did warn you that Auntie had flamboyant tastes."

"There are enough stuffed animals in here to start a zoo!"

"Several, I think. You do notice she has them sorted by continent of origin."

"The dioramas are hardly museum quality, however. Osbert, I didn't know there was enough purple chintz in the world to cover that four poster bed like that."

"Auntie was not chintzy, despite the evidence before your eyes."

"You don't really expect me to sleep in that bed, do you?

"Sleep wasn't high on the agenda, darling Daphne. I was thinking more along the line of a week of torrid sex and sybaritic excess."

"Well, the excess has been accomplished. I've never seen a bedroom with stage in it."

"That's Auntie's walk in closet. It takes up half of what used to be one of the other bedrooms. If you're up to it, press the button and raise the curtains."

She pressed the plate to the left of the expanse of golden brocade. With a quiet hum the decorative ropes gathered the ornate cloth and raised it to the top of the frame as lights slowly and dramatically lit the scene behind the curtain.

"I think this closet is what inspired my love of the stage. Auntie and I would act out plays we had written here to the thunderous applause of the stuffed animals."

"You certainly had a wide choice of costumes for your productions. Is that really a bustle?

"The genuine article from 1885 at the height of the madness. Auntie had a love of Victorian fashion. You have no idea how jaws would drop when she walked down main street spinning her parasol. She even had a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit made for me so I could attend her on her walks. It was great fun until I outgrew the suit."

"I can't picture you in blue velvet. No way!"

"I was eight years old, it was cool. Nobody else had anything like it. I even learned how to bow while sweeping my hat. The hat had a feather in it, too! Besides, nobody knew who I was way out here."

"Just tell me there are pictures. Please let there be pictures!"

"Of course there are pictures, but it'll cost you to see them."

"Put it on my account! How much?"

"I recall talk of torrid sex and sybaritic excess."

"Only if you put your mouth where my money is, buster."

"That seems an inconvenient place to carry cash. It would get all soggy and smelly, wouldn't it?"

"If I'm walking without my purse I keep my mad money in my cleavage, you pervert."

"Can I check?"

"I'm not mad -- yet."

"Just mildly deranged, then?"

"No more so than your Amazing Aunt Arethusa. I just wish some of her stuff would fit me, but I think it's all to big. What a wardrobe! I've never seen a prairie dress in six different shades of gingham."

"With a large inheritance and steady income Auntie could indulge her fantasies whenever they struck her.

"I suppose it's a blessing she was into fashion rather than, say, architecture. The landscape would be littered with whimsy from horizon to horizon."

"But just think of how rich we could become running the guided bus tours."

"Now that you've inherited you're already rich."

"There is that. 'If I were a rich man - biddy bum bum bum biddy...'."

"Zero Mostel you ain't!"

"The rest of you might be too small but I bet your bust line would fill out any of her dresses quite handily."

"So I got big boobs, Other than distracting you they can be a pain. You don't have to lug them around everywhere you go."

"I'd be glad to help you carry them, darling."

"You keep your hands off in public, buster. That's why I wear a bra."

"I have a great deal of experience with bras. They come off quite easily under the right conditions."

"And leave my big tits hanging there, right?"

"Right! You do have the most pleasant ideas. And tits."

What are you going to do with this stuff?"

"Ignore it until it falls to ruin and crumbles into dust. There's just so much of it!"

"You could put it on E-bay."

"I'd be an old man by the time I cataloged, photographed and priced all this stuff."

"Then hire an auction house."

"Honest Henry down at the Auction Barn wouldn't know what to do with it either. It's not hurting anything where it is. Maybe inspiration will strike sometime this week and we can make a plan. Would you like to see the gargoyle collection?"

"No. It's getting late and I want to see you. Naked. In that purple chintz monstrosity in a compromising position. I promise I'll find a suitable compromise for whatever position we end up in."

"Mmmmmm......"

"Uhuhhhhh......"

"Ohhhhhhh......"

Ahhhhhhhh......"

"Uh-oh!!!!!!!!!"

"Huh?????"

"Osbert?"

"Yes, love?"

"Osbert, did your Aunt ever mention having ghosts in the bedroom?"

"She at times referred discretely to a man or two, but they were always fully corporeal to the best of my knowledge."

"Then why are there a pair of faintly glowing green eyes staring at me through that horrible purple chintz?"

"Because you have wonderful tits?"

"Osbert!"

"Well, you do. Do I have to open my eyes? I was really enjoying what you were doing there."

"Osbert, my eyes are open and so are the ghost's. Do you really want it to watch me doing what you want me to do?"

"If you sit on me with your back to the ghost you won't have to watch."

"Does being horny make all men stupid? I don't like audiences when I'm screwing."

"Is the ghost still there?"

"The ghost is still there. The eyes are blinking now."

"Christ, can't I ever get away from those infernal women?"

"Osbert! You had better explain that comment before I bite off something you do not want to lose!"

"Relax, the women I speak of are both dead and achieved that state by living long and distinguished lives. Remember Charlotte MacLeod? The writer? Those eyes are straight out of The Grub and Stakers House a Haunt, except those eyes were yellow. The green eyes tell me that Auntie has been plagiarizing again and can't even think of an original way to have her shade haunt the place."

"Oh, I'm so glad you explained. Just a simple, normal haunting. Osbert, you are not making me feel better."

"Well, you feel pretty good to me."

"Hands off the boobs, buster. I'm not in the mood with your Aunt watching."

"Well, this is her bed."

"She gave up claim when she discorporated."

"That's Heinlein, not MacLeod. He wrote SF, not ghost stories."

"And Valentine Michael Smith...

"How did we get into literary criticism?"

"Better books than your technique. She's still blinking at us."

"By George, she's blinking in Morse code!"

"All right, Boy Scout mine, what's she saying?"

"Wine. Booze. Liquor."

"This is bad enough sober. Don't go getting drunk on me!"

"No, for her. Hiram's ghost got more solid when he got near booze. Do we have any of that wine left?"

"You check. I'm going to borrow one of your Auntie's robes. I feel a trifle exposed with those eyes staring at my nipples."

"Well, auntie was once a man. She never completely lost her appreciation for a pair of fine tits even when she had a pretty good pair of her own."

"You want a robe, too, Osbert?"

"I suppose. Is there a prescribed protocol for ghost viewing?"

"I'm not sure when it's the ghost doing the viewing. As far as I knew it was vampires that were the voyeurs."

"Hey - you look pretty good in brushed silk."

"As do you, my lovely, there are advantages to you wearing a robe two sizes too small. I can clearly see your -"

"Ahem, Auntie is watching. There seems to be some wine left, should I pour or do you want it straight from the bottle, Auntie?"

The eyes slowly wafted toward the night table where the bottle was sitting, passing through Osbert on the way. Daphne watched as he staggered and dropped on the bed.

"I never knew!" he muttered.

"Osbert? Are you OK?"

"I never knew!" he continued to mutter.

Daphne quickly sat beside Osbert and embraced him.

"Knew what, darling."

"How she felt! What it was like to grow up in the wrong body. How immensely satisfying it was to become a woman, even so late in her life."

"All that in a quick pass?"

"More! Daphne, why didn't you tell me what fun it is to have your own breasts?"

"And what am I supposed to compare them to? I've always had them since they grew on me. They bounce, they ache they get in the way, but they do turn you on so I guess they're worth it."

"Daphne, dear girl, my idiot Nephew is just now appreciating femininity from the inside. He has much to learn."

"Miss Monk? Is that you?"

"Of course, darling. And call me Arethusa, please. Who else would be haunting my bedroom? "

"Considering what you were watching, any pervert would jump at the chance."

"Now Daphne, don't get upset. I'm beyond all that now, although you do have a very polished technique. How do you manage to -"

"Ahem! Perhaps we could discuss this at a later time - like never. Auntie, I never inquired into your sex life despite my own curiosity, please do me the honor to reciprocate."

"Speaking of reciprocating, as in engines, she was truly -"

"Auntie!"

"Oh, all right. I fear the wine has gone to my head."

"You haven't got a head yet, just two very shiny eyes in a bright cloud."

"Well, I'm still learning. Let me concentrate..."

The level in the bottle went down as the mist coalesced and a semi-transparent body soon accompanied the eyes.

"There. That ought to hold for a few minutes. Unless you happen to have another bottle of that stuff floating around..."

"Nope, you old lush. I brought enough to ply only one woman with alcohol. I wasn't expecting a threesome."

"Damn! If we weren't related and I weren't dead that could have been fun!"

"Auntie, not to display a vulgar curiosity, but why haven't you gone off to wherever spirits go? You popped off in your sleep and your bones are properly buried. You have no debts to be paid, what's the deal?"

"And I thank you very much - it was a lovely funeral and I appreciate it that you could cry over me."

"I still get the sniffles once in a while, if you want to know. You were a wonderful woman."

"It's nice of you to say so; some of the family might not agree."

"So I've noticed. Mom caught hell for letting me stay with you during the summers."

"Don't I know it! But I think you now know why I had to change. Even with the primitive surgical techniques of the time it was change or die. Kicking off peacefully at 89 beats the hell out of suicide in your thirties."

"I bow to your expertise in the matter, but now I can truly say I understand, not just accept. But you still haven't told us - why aren't you off on the other side of the Pearly Gates or, more likely, in the third circle of Hell for your gluttony?"

"Osbert, darling, I never ate more than I needed. I was just lucky to be born with a high speed metabolism so I could enjoy more food than most people. Be that as it may, I couldn't leave until my earthly remains were properly taken care of."

"What? We spent your fortune on a nice casket and followed your wishes exactly. Your bones are at rest in the earth until the worms get done with them in due time."

"Not my bones, you idiot! My clothes! I need to know someone from the family is putting all those lovely clothes to good use!"

"I don't believe this!" muttered Daphne.

"If you weren't dead I'd think you were insane, Auntie!"

"Osbert, you know damn well you enjoyed dressing up as the Fairy Princess in our little plays. Don't lie to Auntie, nephew."

"I was ten years old, for cripes sake!"

"You weren't ten years old when you started wearing my old bras and panties, boy."

"Un.... Well.... Umm...."

"Don’t think I didn't notice. You couldn't fold anything right once you used it. I never stored my bras inside out, sweetheart."

"Aw shit! You really knew?"

"Every little boy on this planet has tried on his mother's or sister's clothes at least once. I would have been surprised if you didn't, considering who I am. Was. Most of them don't keep it up, but I was one of the ones who found out they were what I needed. You have some of my genes, maybe you have some of the need."

"Osbert, she makes sense. Why else would your communion have hit you so hard?"

"But I like being a guy!"

"Doesn’t mean you wouldn't like being a girl, too. I remember my old friend Camilla - she had implants and facial surgery but kept the original plumbing. One night she and I got pissed and tried out the equipment on each other. Let me tell you, there is nothing like rubbing nipples when there's a big, long -"

"TMI, Auntie! TMI! I'll just take your word that there is a middle ground."

"And grinding the middles together can be such fun!"

"OK, I did like dressing up once in a while, but I got too damn big to pull it off any more. I'd barely fit into this robe as it is."

"We can fix that, if Daphne is willing."

"Wait a minute! You mean I get a choice here?"

"Simple Greek mythology, dear." Arethusa's green eyes took on a brighter glow.

"Greek mythology?"

Sure. Didn't you ever wonder where the name Arethusa comes from?"

"With all the crazy names in your family I gave up long ago!"

"You are a wise woman. You'll be good for my poor, confused nephew. My parents named me Alpheus, who was the Greek river god. Arethusa was a nymph who ended up, shall we say, mixing her waters with Alpheus in one of those complicated lust stories the Greek gods were so fond of getting into. When I threw off the bonds of masculinity I thought it was the perfect name. I'm a bit bigger than your standard nymph, but who cares?"

"How perfect! Daphne comes from a Greek nymph who got turned into a laurel tree when Apollo got frisky. I'd say your namesake got the better end of the deal than mine."

"You understand, don't you darling. Well, my drinking buddies at the Old God's Home have just about enough power left to swing a little conversion spell since there are two nymphs and a god involved. You do know that Osbert comes from the Germanic root for 'god'?"

"Conversion? We don't have to get Born Again or start spouting Hallelujahs, I hope?"

"Pay attention, Osbert! There are Greek gods, that stuff is Christian. They don't do much heavy lifting for each other. Some of those Saints can get right snarky about us nymphs."

"You don't say. So how does this all work?"

You hold hands and walk through me again. A bit of you flows into her; she gets bigger, you get smaller and I balance the whole thing out. Osbert gets tits and an understanding of what it's like to be a woman, Daphne gets a feel for masculine thinking, shoulders that aren't being cut by her bra straps and, ahem, access to your enhanced equipment. I get to retire to my proper place in the great beyond while you both get to play dress up with my wardrobe. Nice, huh?"

"But what do I do with tits when I don't want them?"

"Dammit, Osbert, you know you want them. You just mingled minds with me, boy. They're going to settle out at B cups, a good sports bra should take care of it. Besides, you can bind them if you absolutely want to go grunting around like a caveman. Although why you would want to do that boy crap is beyond me, but I'm prejudiced."

"So I'd be neither fish nor fowl if we did this?"

"You sound like a chicken right now, so I think you may end up scratching the dirt if you can't decide. Look at it this way, you get to decide which side of you has the ascendance at any particular time. Since you're a member of the idle rich you don't have to worry about a job, so who's going to care if you're a bit eccentric. It's practically expected of us."

"The voice of experience, for sure. What's this about enhanced equipment?"

"If my buddies can give you bigger tits then do you think they can't take care of other appendages?"

"In other words, size does count, eh?

"Arethusa? Does that apply to his tongue as well?"

"Just keep that in mind while you stroll through my waters, dearie. Such things are flexible, if you catch my drift."

"Osbert, honey. I'm feeling pretty damn spiritual right now. What say we take the deal? I'm kinda curious about rubbing nipples with your big, long -"

"OK! OK! I like the idea! But Osbert won't make a very good name part of the time."

"Ozella is the accepted feminine, niece of mine."

"Ozella? You've got to be kidding!"

"Hey - take it up with the boys at the baby name sites, I have nothing to do with it."

"Well, it's not like I haven't used pseudonyms before. Hold my hand, nymph, and lets test the waters."

"Hold on a minute, bucko. Notice that I'm getting a little misty about this whole situation? I need some more firewater to pull this off!"

"I hate to disappoint and old lush like you, but you finished the bottle, auntie."

"Go down in the basement, Osbert. You'll find an emergency bottle of Zilla's dandelion wine behind the paint thinner. Mind you, don't mix them up, it's hard to tell them apart by the smell. Zilla always used old vinegar bottles for her so called wine."

"Christ! You'd have to be dead to chance drinking that stuff. I swiped some when I was thirteen and have regretted it ever since."

"That might have something to do with the bottle of ipecac I spiked it with. Kept you from trying booze again until you were legal, didn't it?"

"You old harridan! You did that to me deliberately?"

"With malice aforethought! When I said 'This will hurt you more than it hurts me' I wasn't lying"

"That's not how it's supposed to work!"

"It is according to me. Go get the bottle so I can talk to Daphne and give her some advice on handling a horny man with great tits."

He got. While Osbert raised clouds of dust searching the basement, his Aunt's ethereal spirit imparted sufficient earthy advice to Daphne to make the rest of the night one of the most memorable in Osbert's considerable experience. By the time he placed the old vinegar jug on the nightstand Daphne was glowing almost as strongly as the Arethusa's ghostly green eyes.

The cloud of mist drifted to surround the homebrew. As the level in the translucent bottle began to drop, the green of Arethusa's otherworldly orbs took on new clarity. By the time it hit the halfway mark the room was again bathed in a surreal green glow.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to get, kiddies." Arethusa cried, suppressing a hiccup. "Grab hands and come to Auntie!"

Holding tightly they entered the cloud of mist. Small lightnings crackled, mythical waters flowed and mingled and in a matter of moments two green eyed redheads looked at each other in wonder.

"It worked!" It was hard to tell from which of the apparent twins the voice came, such was their congruity.

"Of course it worked!" came a whisper from the rapidly dispersing cloud. Osbert, you're gonna love my Xena outfit. Have fun, kiddies!" With that the cloud was gone, leaving only the two virtual twins looking deeply into their deep green eyes.

"Come here, Osbert!" said the one with the internal plumbing. I want to see how my nipples feel with your big, long -"

And they lived happily ever after.