The Characters:
Paul DeSoto – The widowed father of the DeSoto
family, Paul is 42, 5’10”, and weighs a burly 180
pounds. He is a very good-man of mostly Italian
descent, with dark brown hair on his head and over
much of his body.
Don DeSoto – Don, Paul’s oldest son, is 18. He is a
freshman at State University and lives on campus,
although he makes frequent visits home. Don is the
same height and body type as his father but weighs ten
pounds less. His hair is a medium brown, and his body
is largely hairless, although he wears a rakish goatee.
Bryan DeSoto – Bryan is 16 and a sophomore in high
school. He is 6’ tall with a more average build than his
older brother and father but is just as cute. Like his
brother Don, he also has medium-brown hair. He has
an after-school job at the local fast-food restaurant.
Brett DeSoto – Brett is the youngest brother at 13. He is
in junior high school, and his body has only just begun
to develop. He is a very cute kid but also somewhat of a
troublemaker. The boys’ mother died giving birth to him,
and he has always felt inadequate because of this.
Matt Laird – Matt is the DeSoto’s next-door neighbor. He
is as dark as they are, with very dark brown hair, but his
eyes are an indescribable orange-hazel color. He is 17
years old and one year ahead of Bryan in school. Mr.
DeSoto is good friends with Matt’s parents, who have
helped him out a lot as a single father, but the DeSoto
brothers have never taken a shine to Matt, who is more
bookish in general, as well as a closeted homosexual.
The Action:
It was a crisp November day, and Matt Laird was
sprawled across his parents’ bed, watching the
television in their bedroom. The television in the other
part of the house had fizzled out the night before, and
he didn’t want to miss his favorite after-school show,
“The Nanny.” While delighting in the antics of Nanny
Fine and the Sheffields, Matt took sips from the glass of
Diet Coke he’d brought from the kitchen.
Unfortunately, at one point, while reaching for the can,
he accidentally knocked it over. The soda splashed
across his father’s night table and dripped down the
side. Horrified, Matt saw that the drawer was partly
open and that some of his father’s possessions had
also gotten soaked!
The TV forgotten, he ran for a towel and cleaned up the
best he could. His father was a good man but he was
very protective of his possessions and his privacy. He
would have even forbidden Matt entry into the room had
he known about it.
The table’s surface cleaned up easily enough, but it
was with dread the Matt pulled open the drawer and
faced the soggy papers there. He tried to mop the soda
off the old letters and receipts, but it had soaked right
through them to a more battered-looking paper below. It
was made of a sort of parchment, and when Matt
moved to wipe it off, he felt that there was actually
something wrapped inside.
Curiosity overwhelmed him, and he had to move it to
clean up anyway, he decided to take a peek. Wrapped
in the parchment was a silver rod, about he size of a
pencil, but without a point. It was cold to the touch, but
there seemed to be a strange vibration associated with
it. Odd, Matt thought. He was about to put it down when
he saw that there was writing on the parchment. It was,
however, in an antique ink that had largely already
faded. The acidic soda hadn’t helped: only a few words
were legible.
But what words!
“Point magic wand” and “Make a wish” were two of the
phrases that were still visible. These made such an
impression upon Matt, who had always dreamed of
discovering such a fantastic device, that he gave much
less attention to the only other legible words: “Pay a
price.”
Of course, it couldn’t be real, could it? What would his
father be doing with a real, live magic wand hidden in
his bedside table. But still, despite knowing the
apoplectic rage it would invoke, Matt finished cleaning
up the best he could and whisked the wand away to his
own bedroom, where he assumed a greedy crouch and
tried to decide upon his first wish.
A series of bangs from outside the window drew his
attention. Brett DeSoto, his young next-door neighbor,
was in the backyard with a basketball, bouncing it into
some trash cans. His attention held, Matt let his gaze
travel across the DeSoto house. For thirteen years, it
had been without a woman’s touch. No plants adorned
the yard but a lawn of weedy grass. No curtains were
on the windows that faced away from the street. Matt
had always been able to watch his neighbors’ activities
as if the house were his own, private fish bowl. Brett
was in the backyard, Bryan was in the bedroom flipping
through some sort of magazine, and Mr. DeSoto was
just pulling into the driveway, home from his grueling
construction job.
A smile came to Matt’s face as he thought of the perfect
wish. In recent months, it had begun to dawn on him
that the bizarre fantasies he had about his male friends
were just not going to go away. It was only since the
past summer that he had decided to capitalize upon
those strange ideas to add fodder to his marathon
jerk-off sessions, which since he had decided to
embrace these fantasies once and for all had ended in
magnificent bursts of teenaged cum arcing across the
room.
Matt was not only secretly gay, he was also a closet
macrophile.
He silently made his wish, and when nothing
happened immediately, he noticed the time and
cursed. His father would be home at any moment, and
he needed to hide the stolen wand before the
tampering was discovered.
Matt’s first wish was: