"Oh Arthur, it's going to be so lonely here. Five months and no children—whatever are we going to do?"

"The usual, I suppose." Says Arthur, sly smile discrediting his sullen tone.

"Arthur, you naughty Weasel-bum."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"I thought ahead, dear," she says, handing Arthur the polyjuice.

"And the kids must have thought that you spend all of that time in the kitchen baking muffins. Well, bottoms-up."

Arthur gulps the polyjuice in one stout shot, with barely a grimace to betray the taste. One gets used to these things after so many years.

"Are you changing yet darling?"

"Yes, I think I'm feeling it. Would you be a dear and fetch the negligee?"

"Oh, of course, Gingerbread."

Molly knows that Arthur's embarrassed about Molly seeing him transform. She assures him that he has nothing to be ashamed of, gently suggesting that she might enjoy seeing him mid-change, after all, they hadn't done much with androgyny before. Unless you count the one time when Percy was conceived, but they'd both been terribly tipsy then…though she can't get it out of her head that it has something to do with him being a little…poufy. But she takes his gentle suggestion and searches the bottom drawer for the negligee.

"Ready dear?" she asks, finding a lacy black thing he'd given her last Christmas. Of course, she knows that they never get as far as actually putting on the negligee, but those things are just so darned inconvenient. Honestly, who puts on clothes just to take them off. But the routine gives Arthur his time, so she permits it.

"Yes," she's greeted by the sound of her own voice in a slightly higher pitch than she normally uses.

Molly turns, "Oh, no, Gingerbread. You know that you don't need t raise the pitch like that. Just speak naturally."

"Sorry dear," he says, in a tone much more similar to her own. And seeing that apologetic look crinkling her own face, pasted onto her own naked body throws her somewhat off-balance, but only a little. There is only so accustomed one can become to making love to oneself.

"That's much better."

"Right. I've got it," the pitch inches higher again. Well, at least it isn't as bad as the grating falsetto from the first time they'd tried this. Arthur just never seems to be able to maintain a natural tone when they're role-playing. But it's all right, his foibles are so endearing sometimes.

Molly sits on the bed, beckoning her doppelganger toward her with a wave of her fingers.

"Kneel," she says, authoritatively.

"Yes, Mistress Molly," her doppelganger replies. This is their usual call-response.

"Would you like me to put that on, Mistress Molly?"

"Actually, I was thinking of trying something new. Have you heard of the shocker?...You may speak."

"Yes, I've heard of the shocker!" her doppelganger replies, enthusiastically.

"Well, wonderful, let's give it a try then."

Molly assumes the position, squatting on all fours and waits…and waits.

"Something keeping you?" she turns, just in time for Arthur to poke her with the home-fashioned copper node of an EMS unit. The shock is intense enough to make her muscles seize-up uncontrollably. When he removes it, she falls to the bed, shocked—in quite the literal sense.

"And what the hell was that?"

"The shocker! I've been afraid to ask about trying erotic electrostimulation, so I'm glad to find that we both were interested."

She weakly rises to a kneeling position. "You ninny! The shocker has nothing to do with electrical bondage. It's…oh, never mind."

The realization of his mistake sends Arthur clinging to her side, apologizing like a mad-man and begging her to let him try the shocker that she had intended, whatever that may be.

"No dear, don't bother. It's gone," she says, flatly.

"Gone? You mean, entirely?"

"Well, how about I mistakenly stick an unsanded wooden dildo into your bum and ask if you're still in the mood?"

"But, I'm in your body for the next forty-five minutes. Shouldn't we make the most of it?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Arthur. Since you're me you can do the dishes, make dinner and worry about the children."

"But Mollywobbles...how could you do that to your gingerbread? Don't you want to know how sweet I can taste?"

Arthur always knows how to disarm her. It's why she loves him. He knows when she wants to be disarmed.

"All right, now that I'm thinking about it, conjure me some rubber gloves and we'll play

a game of Abu…what did you say that was, Gingerbread?"

"Abu Ghraib, dear."

"Right—WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE MARKET LAST THURSDAY!?"

"Oh no, Mister Interrogator. I'm just a humble fruit-seller."

"TELL ME THE TRUTH YOU TERRORIST BASTARD!"