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SRU: Potion Number 6 - and a Half By Bill Hart "Your place? What do mean you want me to meet you at your place, Mel? Isn't your father going to be there? Surely you must know he doesn't like me," whined Tom. "If we're alone, I'm afraid he'll be tempted to murder me and stash my body somewhere where it'll never be found." "You don't need to worry about Daddy, Tom. He won't kill you," sighed Melanie Benedict smugly. "Daddy might think he hates you enough to consider killing you, but he won't. Daddy will definitely not to anything to you, Tom. Daddy knows that since I turned twenty-one I control every last dime of my late mother's money. Furthermore, he knows that if he pisses me off, then he's nothing more than ancient history." "But..." "I don't want to hear any more buts from you, Tom. And I'd really appreciate it if you could also quit that annoying whining of yours for a while. I'm certain you can survive an hour alone in the house with my father. Daddy's so predictable; there's absolutely no way he would ever do anything that would either alienate me or jeopardize his continued presence at the house." "Well, I suppose, Mel. That is, if you're sure..." "I'm absolutely certain, Tom." "Then I guess it will be okay then." "You're damn right it will be okay," snapped Melanie. "Now just get your ass over to the house and wait for me. I'll see you there in a little over an hour." Melanie hung up the phone. "Dumb shit," she snarled. "I know Tommy annoys the hell out of daddy, but I can't help thinking I deserve someone with a little more backbone than Thomas Mallory." * * * * * * Arriving at Melanie's house, Tom nervously knocked on the front door. He fervently hoped no one was home; Melanie couldn't be mad at him if no one was home to open the door and let him inside. From his nervous actions as he waited, it was perfectly clear to anyone who had eyes with which to see, that Melanie's father, Arnold Benedict, scared Tom totally shitless. But the door slowly swung open. "Hello, Mr. Benedict," said Tom anxiously. "Good afternoon, Tom," he replied matter-of-factly. "Melanie Elizabeth isn't home right now." "I know that, Mr. Benedict. She told me I should come here and wait for her." "Did she now?" smiled Arnold Benedict unpredictably. "Very well then, if she wants you to wait here - then come in." Frightened by Mr. Benedict's enigmatic smile and still odder than usual demeanor, but not knowing what to expect from him, Tom nervously entered the house. In the den, he found a small chair and quietly sat down. "Would you like something to drink, Thomas?" Tom was surprised. "That would be very nice, Mr. Benedict," he replied. "But why are you being so nice me all of a sudden?" he asked suspiciously. "It's for Melanie's sake," replied her father. "I don't want to fight with her any more about who she picks as her friends." That makes sense, thought Tom, who wondered why Melanie hadn't told him about the change in her father's attitude earlier. "I think a tall glass of water would really hit the spot right now, Mr. Benedict. Thank you." A few moments later, Arnold Benedict returned to his guest. In his hand, he carried a large crystalline glass filled to the brim with water. He held out the glass to Tom. After taking the glass, Tom sipped at its contents before suddenly, almost compulsively, chugging its contents. "You know something, Mr. Benedict. This water really tastes incredibly sweet." "You must call me Arnold," smiled Melanie's father. "Okay, Arnold." Tom shook his head, as a sudden wave of dizziness swept across his body. Fortunately, Tom hadn't risen from the chair where he was sitting. "What's happening?" asked Tom, trying to shake off the dizziness accosting his senses. "What did you put in that water, Arnold?" A look of alarm spread across Tom's face. "Holy shit! You've poisoned me! Haven't you?" "Of course I haven't poisoned you, Tom. And I'm genuinely hurt by your accusation that I would. Even if you are nothing more than the conniving little weenie who wants to get his hands on my daughter's money that I think you are, you and I both know that my daughter would never forgive me for killing you. Besides, murder is far too messy a business to get involved in, especially when the police get involved and start asking all those embarrassing questions I really wouldn't want to answer. "You know, Tom, sometimes it can be truly amazing what fate has in store for us. Let's face it; I spoiled my daughter horribly after her mother died. There weren't supposed to be any children, but we took a chance and my wife paid for it. After speaking with that old man in the mall this afternoon about you and your relationship with her, I never really expected that I'd ever get the time alone with you that I needed to do this. But now - and at my daughter's request ? here you are. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to make you a far more palatable friend for my daughter." "What?" Tom tried to rise from the chair, but he could barely move. He felt like he weighed a ton. "And here I thought I was being perfectly clear, Tom. I don't like you, Tom. And I never have. However, I think you realized that long ago. You know, its extremely unlikely I would have ever liked you at all, except for a few of the possible aftereffects of that potion in the water you've just obligingly swallowed." "But Melanie told me you wouldn't do anything that would jeopardize your relationship with her or your status here, Arnold." Tom shook his head. He'd wanted to call Melanie's father Mr. Benedict, but, for some reason, his mind insisted on calling him Arnold. "But I haven't jeopardized anything, dear Thomas. Nothing at all, sweet Thomas. Unless I have a change of heart, which is doubtful, Melanie will arrive and find you here exactly as she expects you to be. According to that odd old man, that particular side effect is one of the real beauties of this potion I've given you. Melanie will never even notice that anything is amiss." Arnold Benedict smiled. "What? But how..." Tom's voice trailed off as an intense feeling of sluggishness took control of his body. No longer able to speak, all he could do was stare off into space. "Stand up!" ordered Arnold. Without hesitation or difficulty Tom stood. But, although his mind still seemed active and wanted to resist, Tom was totally incapable of doing anything else but obey. "Where do you live?" asked Arnold. "I live in a small apartment on the other side of town," replied Tom woodenly. "It's on Barker Avenue, near Clive Street." "But you know that's not true," said Arnold. "You actually live next door. Don't you remember?" For a moment, a look of total surprise appeared on Tom's face. But his feeling of surprise quickly faded, as he remembered he actually did live next door to Arnold Benedict and his daughter Melanie. "Where do you live?" re-asked Arnold. "Don't you remember?" asked Tom sounding puzzled. "I live right next door, Arnold." "Very good. Now tell me a little about your parents?" "My father is Walter Mallory. He's a construction worker. My mother is Jane Mallory. She's a seamstress at the dress shop on King Way." "I'm sorry, but it seems you're mistaken again." stated Arnold. "Your father is John Hill and your mother is Helen Hill. Helen is the sister of Harriet Lawrence, who with her husband Grant, are not only two of my closest friends, but also my neighbors." At Arnold's words, ripples of change began passing through Tom. His short brown hair turned red and grew out over his ears. His brown eyes turned green. Even the muscles and bones of his face twitched oddly as the Anglo-Saxon parental heritage of his Mallory genes gave way to conform to the new and decidedly Irish ethnic heritage he'd just gained from his mother Helen Douglas, wife of John Hill. His frame thinned slightly, while, at the same time, growing nearly two inches taller. As the changes in the young man's frame ended, Arnold asked the lad once again "Who are your parents?" "My father is John Hill. He's a highly successful corporate attorney, who works for the same firm as his brother-in-law Grant Lawrence. My mother is Helen Hill. She's a housewife now, but when she first met my father she and her twin sister Harriet were contestants for Miss Ohio. She doesn't need to work any more because we're very rich." Arnold Benedict smiled. Things were going even more smoothly than the old man had said they would. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked. "Yes, Arnold," came Tom's somnolent reply. "I have three brothers and two sisters. I'm the youngest child of six." "But that can't be true," stated Arnold. "On more than one occasion, Harriet has told me that her sister has only a single child." Once again, surprise quickly spread across Tom's face. But, just as before, his surprised expression faded away just as quickly. All of his memories of having brothers and sisters simply evaporated until his only recollections of family were of his parents and himself, their only child. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Arnold asked again. "No, sir. I'm an only child," replied Tom. "How tall are you?" "I'd guess about six foot, four inches, Arnold." "That's far too high an estimate of your height. We both know you're actually five foot, six." Tom began steadily shrinking. After the passage of no more than a few moments, he'd gone from towering over Melanie's father to having to look up at him. For only an instant, this unnatural loss of height bothered him. But soon it was unimportant; after all, he could only now remember having to look up at Arnold. "How tall are you?" "Five foot, six inches," came Tom's quick and confident response. "I've always wished I were taller, but I haven't managed to grow even a fraction of an inch in the past several years." "How much do you weigh?" In spite being under the potion's control, Tom frowned. "Too much. As short as I am, I shouldn't weigh as much as I do. I'd guess about two hundred pounds, give or take." "That would be more than you should weigh, given your height," replied Arnold, "provided you actually weighed that much. However, you've never weighed that much. At this moment, you actually weigh only one hundred, twenty pounds." Tom felt his body noticeably lighten. He worried about losing so much weight so quickly, until, after reaching his new weight, he no longer recalled weighing any more than that as an adult. "How much do you weigh?" "About a hundred and twenty pounds," replied Tom with a smile. "I've always been a really skinny kid, Arnold. No matter what I do, I can't seem to put on any weight." Arnold smiled. "Maybe I can help you out a little. Melanie tells me you asked her to get a boob job, because you'd enjoy fondling her big breasts. Is that true?" "It sure is," grinned Tom, despite still being under the spell of the potion. "I love fondling big tits." "I'm not sure I can really help you," smiled Arnold mischievously. "After all, Tom, you already have a fine pair of firm and full 48DD breasts yourself." Tom felt an extremely pleasurable tingling sensation quickly spread across his chest. As he groaned softly, his small male nipples began to expand. In less than a heartbeat, they'd swollen from nothing to tiny nubs that noticeably pushed out his sweatshirt. However, after only a few additional seconds, his previously tiny nubs had rapidly expanded to such massive proportions that they threatened to rip apart his sweatshirt. One of Tom's hands slowly and unerringly found its way to his massive new mammaries. "Wow!" he exclaimed as his hand caressed one of his full and firm breasts. "But, Arnold," he sighed again at his own touch, "I can't have tits like these." "Why not?" asked Arnold. "I think they look exceptionally good on you." "But only girls have big titties like these," replied Tom. "I'm not a girl, Arnold; I'm a boy." "I don't think so. Once again it seems you've made a little mistake," grinned Arnold. "As I recall, the only person currently staying with my neighbors is their niece, the only child of John and Helen Hill." Once again, ripples of change quickly passed through Tom's frame. Tom shivered slightly as long, sleek and silky reddish locks of hair tumbled about her shoulders. Her facial bones and muscles re-molded. Undeniably, she was rapidly becoming an attractive young woman. Her breasts, although they remained the size they'd already become, seemed to swell still larger as her waist thinned. Her slight frame, just as rapidly, redefined itself, while taking on luscious curves in every place that a young and attractive woman should possess such curves. Her hands smoothed, even as the nails on her slendering fingers grew longer. And as her body had altered, so had the clothes Tom had been wearing. Her short skirt, which had earlier been Tom's denim pants, exposed her slender and graceful legs. At the same time, her sweatshirt had been rewoven into a tight form-fitting tank top that bared her curvaceous midriff, while showing off her ample cleavage. Arnold couldn't help from grinning as he asked his next question. "What is your sex?" "That's an odd question, Arnold," she answered in a voice an octave higher than before. "I'm a girl, Arnold. Just like I've always been." "What is your name, young lady?" "My name is Thomas Henry Mallory," she answered without hesitation. "But how can that be?" asked Arnold innocently. "Thomas Henry isn't a name I would give a girl like you. I'm absolutely certain my neighbors told me earlier that their niece's name was Hannah Theresa Hill." In stunned disbelief, the girl stared at Arnold for several moments. And yet, her sense of disbelief faded into nothingness as the full awareness of who she had always been settled over her. Just from looking at her, Arnold could tell that the girl now knew exactly who she was and had always been. "What is your name, young lady?" queried Arnold again. "Don't you remember, Arnold? My name is Hannah Theresa Hill." "Other than yourself, who remembers that you are Hannah Theresa Hill?" "Just my parents and you, of course, Arnold. For some totally weird and inexplicable reason, everybody else in the whole wide world thinks of me as some boy named Thomas Henry Mallory." Hannah sighed. "Why do you think they do that, Arnold? I mean, do I look like a boy to you?" "Of course you don't look like a boy, Hannah," replied Mr. Benedict. "But once again, it seems you've given me an incorrect answer, my dear. Everyone in the entire world remembers you solely as Hannah Theresa Hill. Nobody remembers anybody, either male or female, by the name of Thomas Henry Mallory. In fact, dear Hannah, there has never been anybody named Thomas Henry Mallory in your family." In bewilderment, Hannah stared at Arnold. Until suddenly, her confusion vanished. Everything was now not only as it should be, but also just as it had always been. Arnold asked her again, "Who remembers that you are Hannah Theresa Hill?" "Why everyone I know, of course, Arnold," she replied without a moment's hesitation. "But then, why shouldn't they all remember me as Hannah? It's the only name I've ever had. Hannah Theresa was the name given to me by my parents on the day I was born." Excellent, thought Arnold Benedict. The magical potion has worked exactly as that odd old man said it would. And yet, Hannah has become such a gorgeous young woman. She will definitely be a far superior friend to my Melanie, then that dolt Tom could have ever hoped to be. But on the other hand... Arnold grinned, as he looked Hannah over very carefully. Since I won't have to worry about him marrying Melanie any more, I wonder if she'd be interested in me? "What do you think of me, Hannah?" he asked. Hannah looked him squarely in the eye. "I don't think I like you at all, Arnold," she replied curtly. "And for some strange reason I really can't explain, I don't think you like me very much either." "But neither of those things is true, Hannah," grinned Arnold. "You know I love you as much as you love me. In fact, we're going to get married. Don't you remember, sweetheart?" Hannah met Arnold's gaze. In a heartbeat, the potion had effectively rewritten her memories, making her both his lover and his bride-to-be. At the same time, unknown to and unsuspected by Arnold Benedict, who had failed to heed the old man's final warning, the magic within the potion had, in order to make his words the total truth, reached out through Hannah's gaze and altered his memories. A smile with obvious mischievous intent swept across Hannah's face. "Of course, I remember that, my darling. How could you think I would ever forgot about becoming your wife?" She kissed her man with a passion she couldn't recall having kissed a man before. "Why don't we run up to your room, sweetheart?" she asked naughtily. And Arnold, who no longer remembered Hannah as anyone other than his love and intended bride, readily agreed. * * * * * * Almost as soon as the front door of the Benedict house had been flung open, it had been immediately slammed shut again. "Damn it!" she swore, as she entered the empty hall. "It's been one hell of a day!" Melanie Benedict was home. However, as soon as she entered the den, Melanie was certain something wasn't quite right. She had the strangest feeling that someone, who obviously wasn't here, was supposed to be waiting here for her. But who could it possibly be? With her current boyfriend Alex out of town on business for the next couple of weeks, Melanie couldn't think of a single person she really wanted to be with at the moment. Besides, no one would be dumb enough to stand her up. And, in any event, she would have had to call someone in order to meet them here and she hadn't spoken to anyone on the phone all day. Her father should have been there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Melanie sullenly wondered where the hell he was. She hoped he wasn't off loitering somewhere with that gold-digging big-boobed bitch, who was visiting next door. She was just too young for her daddy. After all, that vapid little tramp who'd come visiting her aunt and uncle was no more than a couple of years older than she was. "Hello, Melanie," beamed Hannah, as she entered the den. "I didn't hear you come in." The little shit is deaf too, thought Melanie, as she glared at the buxom invader. "What are you doing here?" she snarled. "On second thought, never mind. I know exactly what you're doing here. Where's my daddy?" "He had to run out to the store for something," smiled Hannah sheepishly. "He should be back in about a half hour... or maybe even quicker, that is, if he's still feeling as lucky as he was a little earlier." "Oh shit," groaned Melanie. "Don't you realize that my daddy's old enough to be your daddy? I really don't know what you think you'll gain with this charade of yours. Daddy has no money of his own, you know; I control all the money around here." "I'm not worried about money, Melanie. I have more money than I could possibly spend in several lifetimes." Hannah smiled. "I love Arnold; he loves me - it's just that plain and simple. Now I suppose he should be the one to tell you this, but I'm so happy I just can't bear to keep such wonderful news to myself any longer. Arnold and I are getting married. Isn't that wonderful?" "You're what?" asked the stunned Melanie. "You can't." "Of course, we can. We're both consenting adults." Hannah smiled at Melanie. "I wish you could be happy for us. After all, you and I are going to have to learn to get along with each other for your father's sake, if for no other reason. If I'm going to be your mother, I want us to be friends." Melanie glared at the girl. You'll never get the chance to be my mother, you overstuffed cow, thought Melanie. "I'm going to the kitchen for a drink of water, Hannah. Would you like me to bring something back for you?" Hannah smiled. Up until now, Melanie had more or less shut her out whenever she'd seen her. But now, Hannah had renewed hopes she might finally be getting through to Melanie. "A glass of water would be just fine." She breathed an anxious sigh, as she watched Melanie depart. She didn't want to continue this endless bickering with Melanie, but she couldn't bear the thought of losing Arnold either. After a few minutes had passed, Melanie Benedict returned to her unwelcome guest. While she'd been in the kitchen, Hannah had sat down in Arnold's favorite chair. In her hand, Melanie carried a large crystalline glass filled to the brim with crystal clear spring water. With a smile, she held out the glass to the seated Hannah. After taking the glass, Hannah cautiously sipped at its contents before suddenly, almost compulsively, chugging its contents. "Wow! What great tasting water, Melanie. I can't ever remember tasting water so incredibly sweet before." Melanie smiled. "You need to relax and unwind, Hannah." Hannah shook her head, as a sudden and inexplicable wave of dizziness swept rapidly across her body. She was definitely glad she hadn't been standing, as if she had, she'd now be sprawled out on the floor. "What's happening?" asked Hannah, trying to shake off the dizziness accosting her senses and wondering why this attack felt so strangely familiar. "What did you put in that water, Melanie?" A look of alarm spread across Hannah's face. "You've drugged me! Haven't you?" "Of course I haven't drugged you, Hannah, although I'm not overly surprised by your accusation that I would. Even though I know you for the conniving little gold-digging bitch, who thinks she can get her hands on my money by marrying my daddy, that you are, you and I both know that my daddy would never forgive me for doing you any harm. Besides, I wouldn't want to involve the police in our little squabble. They'd very likely start asking embarrassing questions that I'd really rather avoid answering. "You know, Hannah, sometimes fate can be truly amazing. When I first brought up your unnatural relationship with my daddy with that young girl in the odd little shop in the mall this afternoon, I never dreamed that I'd ever get enough time alone with you to attempt this. But now - with daddy out for a little while - here you are. If what that girl told me was true, it shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to end your relationship with my daddy ... permanently." "You're mad?" Hannah tried to rise from the chair, but she could barely move. "I'm not mad at all. I'm not even angry any more. I'm just being practical. I don't want you marrying my daddy, Hannah. But I think we'll have a much better relationship after some of the effects of the potion in the water you've just swallowed so very obligingly kick in. And I really think it would be better if you called me Miss Benedict from now on." "But didn't you just tell me your father would never forgive you for doing me harm, Miss Benedict?" Hannah shook her head. She'd wanted to call Arnold's daughter Melanie, but, for some reason, her mind insisted on calling her Miss Benedict. "That's just it - I'm not going to be doing you any harm, dear Hannah. At least none that daddy will ever notice, sweet Hannah. Unless I have a change of heart, which I think is doubtful, when daddy returns from the store he'll find you here exactly as he remembers leaving you. According to that most peculiar young girl I mentioned earlier, that particular side effect is one of the real selling points of the potion I poured into your water. Daddy will never even notice that anything is even different." Melanie Benedict smiled. "What? But how..." Hannah's voice trailed off as an intense feeling of sluggishness took control of her body. No longer able to speak, all she could do was stare off into space. "Stand up!" ordered Melanie. With neither hesitation nor difficulty Hannah rose to her feet. However, even though her mind still seemed active and capable of resistance, Hannah was totally incapable of doing anything other than obey. "Just how large are those mammoth boobs of yours?" asked Melanie. "They're 48DD's," replied Hannah woodenly. "I don't really understand how that can be possible, since you're very obviously as flat-chested as an adolescent." As Melanie, feeling very pleased with herself, watched, Hannah's massive mammaries began slowly deflating. Within mere seconds, all that remained of them were two flaps of skin that resembled deflated stretched out of shape balloons. But after the passage of just another few moments, those flaps had shrunk still further and grown taut across her chest. With the exception of her still girlish figure, Hannah might now have been easily mistaken for an adolescent boy. "How large are those boobs of yours now?" she snarled. "Are you making fun of me, too?" asked Hannah. In spite of being under the potion's influenced, Hannah sounded close to tears. "You know I've never had much in the way of breasts," she frowned. "I wish I knew what was wrong with me." "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, Hannah," smiled Melanie. "You're perfectly normal ... for a girl of twelve." Even as Hannah shrank, her body underwent an odd adolescence of sorts, in reverse. Her previously curvaceous form rapidly straightened out, as her hips contracted and her waist expanded. In just a few minutes, Hannah's five foot, six inch form had become one no more than five feet tall. And only from her clothes - they'd also altered completely into those normally worn by a girl of twelve - was it in any way obvious that she remained a girl. For no more than an instant, Hannah seemed bothered by her unusual transformation. And yet, as soon as she remembered celebrating her twelfth birthday just last week, Hannah realized she really didn't want to grow up too fast. "Whom do you live with now?" "My Aunt Harriet and Uncle Grant," replied Hannah. "I really think that twelve-year-olds should live with their parents. Don't you?" Melanie smiled. "Could you tell me again who you said you were living with?" Since Hannah's new mother was her former mother's twin sister, only minor changes resulting from her change of fathers spread across her body unnoticed. "I live with my mommy and daddy, of course, Miss Benedict." "Do you know their names?" "You ask really silly questions for a grownup, Miss Benedict. Of course, I know their names. My mommy's name is Harriet Lawrence and my father's name is Grant Lawrence." "And what is your name?" "But you already know my name, Miss Benedict." Even under the influence of the magical potion, Hannah seemed confused. However, she'd been asked a question; she had to reply. "My name is Hannah Theresa Hill." "How can that true?" smiled Melanie, thinking this was all too easy. "You just told me your parents were Harriet and Grant Lawrence. I'm certain if you stop and think about it for a few minutes, you'll realize that your name is Tabitha Hillary Lawrence." With a look of disbelief, the girl stared at Miss Benedict for several seconds. But, having had the time to think it over, she soon realized that Melanie was absolutely right about who she was. And as the girl's disbelief vanished, Melanie could tell that the girl in front of her had no doubts about who she really was. "What is your name, young lady?" queried Melanie. "You still know my name, Miss Benedict. It hasn't changed," she replied with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "My name is still Tabitha Hillary Lawrence." "Other than yourself, who knows you to be Tabitha Hillary Lawrence?" "Just my parents and you, of course, Miss Benedict. For some totally absurd and inexplicable reason, everybody else in the whole wide world thinks my name is Hannah Theresa Hill." Tabitha sighed. "Why do you think they do that, Miss Benedict? I mean, my aunt's last name is Hill, but she doesn't have any children." "Who know why people think the things the think, Tabitha," replied Melanie. "But, if I'm not mistaken, you've somehow given me another wrong answer, sweetie. Everyone in the entire world knows you solely as Tabitha Hillary Lawrence. Nobody remembers you ever being named Hannah Theresa Hill. In fact, sweet Tabitha, nobody named Hannah Theresa Hill has ever been a member of your family." Confused again for another fleeting moment, Tabitha could only stare at Miss Benedict. Until suddenly, everything was just as it should be, as well as just as it had always been. Melanie asked the girl again, "Who knows you as Tabitha Hillary Lawrence?" "Why everyone, Miss Benedict," she replied without a moment's hesitation. "But then, why shouldn't everyone remember my name is Tabitha? It's the only name I've ever had and it was given to me by my parents on the day I was born." Excellent, thought Melanie Benedict. Although I wasn't sure I believed that strange little girl in that equally odd-looking shop in the mall, the potion she sold me has worked exactly as she told me it would. Doesn't Tabitha made the most perfect twelve-year-old girl? Even better, she's definitely no longer interested in marrying my daddy and trying to get my money. And yet... Melanie grinned. There were a couple of other things she'd just decided needed being done. "Tabitha?" "Yes, Miss Benedict." "You're definitely a late bloomer, Tabitha. Just like your mother was," suggested Melanie. "You'll be sixteen before finally entering puberty, but then it'll engulf you with a hormonal vengeance that will result in your quickly becoming the desirable and buxomy young woman that knows how to use her body to make any boy her age want to submit to her every want and desire." Tabitha's eyes glazed over, as the potion in her body made everything Melanie had just told her what would come to pass. As Tabitha's awareness returned, Melanie smiled at her. "Although I'm older than you, you and I have always been really good friends. We're special. One of us always shares what we have with the other - just like sisters. Isn't that right, Tabitha?" Tabitha's eyes sought out Miss Benedict. As she met Melanie's gaze, she became Melanie's friend. "Yes, Melanie," she replied. But then, as Melanie, who had failed to heed the young girl's final warning, had not likely intended to have happen, the magic of the potion had, as it was ever wont to do, sought to make Melanie's words the complete truth. Through Tabitha's eyes, the magic reached out to embrace Melanie. * * * * * * Arnold Benedict slowly opened his front door. He was surprised to find Melanie and Tabitha peacefully sleeping together on the couch. "They're asleep, Harriet," he told his neighbor. "Don't they look just so cute like that," smiled Harriet. "I really hate to wake them." "Then don't wake them. Let them sleep," replied Arnold. "Grant isn't home yet, is he?" "Not yet." Harriet looked at her watched. "It'll be another hour at least." "Why don't you let them stay right where they are until Grant gets home? They're a lot quieter this way, and they're likely to be a little cranky if you wake them. Besides, I'm sure you'd like to have a little more time to yourself." "Are you sure?" asked Harriet. "Certainly. They're no bother to watch, especially when they're asleep like this," replied Arnold. "Besides, I've always loved watching your twins." "Okay, Arnold. They're yours until Grant gets home." Harriet smiled, and then kissed her neighbor on the cheek. "Thank you again, Arnold." "No problem; I'm just being a good neighbor." As soon as he closed the door behind his departing neighbor, Arnold turned back towards the sleeping girls and sighed. Even now, he still wondered occasionally what kind of a father he would have made. But that was a subject he never dwelled on for very long. Before he and his wife had been married, they'd joyfully talked about having several children. However, that had been before they'd learned the possible consequences of having even one of their very own. END