This is me with my twin big sisters. I used to be their father, and they used to be boys before I said something stupid to their mother.

I never should have accused my wife of trying to turn our twin boys into sissies. But, even worse, I threatened to divorce her, and get custody of the twins if Sheila didn't stop babying them, and dressing them like little sissies.

She didn't respond directly to my threat. Sheila smiled at the boys, and said, "Let's go find something manly enough for four-year-old boys, then. Since your father wants to select your clothes, he can start right now."

Nothing more was said about my comments or threat. We had a pleasant visit with her parents, and Sheila spent most of the evening in the kitchen with her mother.

When I cam home from work the next evening, Sheila was alone in the kitchen. Kissing her cheek, I asked, "Where are the boys?"

"Mom took them to do a little shopping, and to have dinner at McDonald's", Sheila said, pouring me a martini from the chilled mixer she removed from the freezer. Plopping a couple of olives in it, she passed it to me, "I thought we could use an evening alone."

I smiled at her, "Great idea. Maybe we can get a little mattress time before the twin terrors get home."

"Why don't you start on that, and wait for me in the bedroom," Sheila suggested, smiling back, "Get undressed, and I'll be there in a minute."

I took a deep sip, and nodded, "Sounds like a plan I can manage. I'll be waiting with Mr. Happy for you."

By the time I'd undressed, and climbed into the bed, I had finished most of the martini. I found myself feeling a bit woozy, and felt much better as soon as I stretched out naked on the bed. In a few seconds, I drifted into unconsciousness.

I awoke in the little room off our bedroom that Sheila had used as the twins' nursery, when they were babies. Looking around in confusion, I realized I was inside one of the cribs. That was flat-out impossible, my mind insisted, but my pudgy little fingers confirmed the reality by gripping one of the crib's bars. I looked down at myself, finally, at the bulge of the diaper I wore under the soft fleece of a pink sleeper. Trying to call Sheila, I found myself crying in frustration at not being able to speak.

Sheila entered the nursery, followed by two little girls, one in a pink striped dress, and the other in a blue striped dress. She lowered the side of the crib, and bent over to lift me into her arms, "You should never make threats you can't keep, darling, especially to the daughter of a witch. Momma prepared a couple of potions, and -presto- problem solved."

"I never should have let you convince me to have boys first. I always wanted little girls, and now I have them," Sheila winked at me, smiling, "No one's going to complain about my dressing two little girls as sissies."

"But, I decided that you were right about my 'babying' them too much," Sheila said, grinning again, "Momma suggested the solution-I needed another baby to baby. Fortunately, I didn't even have to get pregnant this time."



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