Mom interrupts before you can decide

Suddenly your brainstorming is interrupted by your mom knocking on the bedroom door. You freeze mid-pump and your heart feels like it's stopped beating.

"I'm doing the laundry honey, have you got any dirty clothes?" she calls out through the door.

"Yeah - uh..." you remember that she can't hear you because you wished your bedroom to be soundproof.

You quickly leap off the bed, hiding the copy of Sports Illustrated under the covers. You deflate and stuff your leaky sexlog and softball nuts into your pyjama bottoms as best you can before opening the door, hiding your lower half behind it.

"Yeah I do, thanks Mom," you greet her.

She smiles at you and strides into the bedroom. Lisa is wearing a teal bath robe and carrying a plastic laundry basket under one arm. She busies herself picking up the mess of dirty laundry sprawled across your bed. She's in her mid forties, but her straight posture, athletic frame and healthy brown hair definitely give her the appearance of a younger mother. You remember seeing the jealous looks on the other mom's faces when she used to drop you off for school.

"What's this?"

You snap out of your daydreaming and find your mother giving you an unimpressed glare, one hand on her hip. Your blood runs cold. Sports Illustrated hangs pinched between her thumb and index finger, as if it were a used tissue.

"and why are you hiding behind the door? Get over here young man," she beckons at you sternly, stepping closer to grab your arm.

Lisa pulls you out from behind the door. You do your best to turn away from your mom to hide the ridiculous basketball sized bulge in your pants, but it's no use.

"What on Earth?" her eyes widen as she stares down at your crotch.
"That's not funny dear, why have you got something in your pants?" she demands.

"I don't Mom!" you protest.

"Stop being silly, take whatever it is out right now so I can speak to you properly!" she insists trying her best to avert her gaze from your package.

You groan in annoyance. You wish she'd just believe you and get off your case. Suddenly a look of understanding washes over your mother's face and her posture relaxes.

"Let's just please try to keep it hidden alright dear?" she stows the magazine away in your desk drawer and goes back to placing your clothes in the basket.

Whoops! You hadn't meant to affect your mom with a wish, but you're glad it worked. You wonder how far you could push it.