Ryan Standish was plucked from the warm dark comfort of Carter's father's pocket and held in the glaring white lights which illuminated the tennis court at night. The man standing on the other side of the net was his father. Ryan was surprised to see his older brother sitting on the bench behind his father.
"Mikey, get out the video camera, and make sure you've got the whole court in view," George Standish ordered his eldest son. Then turning back to face his opponent, he said, "Willie, hope you don't mind, but I want Mikey to videotape us. I need to study my technique, so I can improve."
"Whatever you say, George," William said through gritted teeth. Everyone called him William, Will or Bill, only George Standish insisted on calling him Willie. That was one of George's annoying traits, he tended to belittle his underlings by turn their names into a dimunitive. He even did it to his own son, Mikey. William did note that somehow his son Ryan had escaped the diminution of his name. Will found himself thinking of possible derisive nicknames for Ryan: "Ryguy, Ryanie, Ry, Annie, Rani, Ryanette, Ryanelle, Ryay"
"Whatever, huh? Okay, then toss me the ball, I want to serve."
Will bit his lip and hurled the ball that was Ryan Standish at the concrete court. Ryan bounced over the net. He bounced once more and landed in his own father's hand. A bit of dirt had collected from the court on the ball, and due to the magical nature of the ball, the dirt had formed an image of Ryan's face on the ball.
Ryan thought he's going to recognize me! My father's going to save me.
George Standish paused for a few moments staring at the face of his son on the green-yellow tennis ball. He shook his head and wiped the ball against his tennis shorts. Ryan screamed. His father wasn't wiping on the side of the shorts or even the back. He was wiping the dirt off against his crotch. To Ryan's horror, his father like Ryan himself tended to get hard in anticipation of a contest or game. He was rubbing against his father's rock hard cock. It was sick. Maybe his father hadn't recognized him, but if he had why would he - Ryan shuddered not wanting to complete the thought. His thoughts were silenced by the impact of his father's tennis raquet as he was served to Carter's father. They volleyed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, William missed the ball, and Ryan bounced against the chain link fence.
By the end of the match, Ryan was positively senseless. His hollow form echoed with the sound of his body bouncing against the concrete and racquets. It was no surprise when George announced the score "40-Love." He caught the ball that was his son as it bounced outside the line. He squeezed it tight, and shouted, "Spoils of war." He tossed Ryan to his eldest son, then he strode over to the net to shake his underling's hand.
Carter had spent the whole game in his father's back pocket. Now as his father walked back to the locker room, he was plucked from the pocket. His father began squeezing the ball to relieve his stress. Mentally, Carter screamed madly.
Meanwhile, Willie had caught Ryan and was staring at the dirty image of his kid brother on the green fuzzy ball.