Dad & lil bro Carter

Dad's Story:

You can call me Coach—or Dad, if you’re my kid, which, well, I’m pretty sure you’re not. I’m 44, standing at 6’3”, muscular because, frankly, I have no other hobbies besides lifting heavy things and pretending I still play sports at a professional level. My wife? She's off touring the country as the Secretary of Agriculture, working her magic with farmers. She’s practically a superhero in overalls, helping people modernize their farming while I stay home, keeping the family in check. Or trying to, anyway.

While she's out playing crop whisperer, I'm here coaching my youngest son, Carter, in baseball. The kid’s 18, lives at home, and eats up baseball like I used to eat up steak dinners—except he’s faster, better, and way more popular than I ever was at his age. We spend hours on the field, me pretending I can still throw a decent pitch, him pretending not to laugh at my form.

Then there’s my older son. He’s moved out, doing his own thing in tech or whatever it is. Too cool to hang out with ol’ Dad now. He calls Carter a “papa’s boy” like that’s an insult, as if spending time with your dad is some kind of crime. Yeah, well, not everyone has a built-in baseball coach at home, and Carter knows he’s got a good deal here.

Coaching Carter is my way of staying young. Sure, my knees complain every time I crouch down, and my shoulder makes this weird clicking sound when I throw, but there’s nothing like watching your kid knock it out of the park. Carter’s going places, and I’m just glad I get to be along for the ride. Meanwhile, my wife’s off with her farmers, and my older son’s probably somewhere typing an email about synergy, but Carter and I? We’re on the field, living life one home run at a time.

Carter’s Bio:

Yeah, I’m Carter, and I’m 18. You could call me a papa’s boy, and honestly, that’s cool with me. My dad’s a total beast—6'3" of pure muscle and wisdom. The guy’s been my coach since I could hold a bat, and I’m not gonna lie, we make a pretty unstoppable team. Baseball’s my thing, and when your dad is basically a walking sports encyclopedia, you learn a few tricks.

My older brother? He moved out and got some fancy job where he sits at a desk all day. He calls me a papa’s boy, says I’m too close to Dad. But guess what? While he’s out there doing whatever it is people do in offices, I’m here on the field, with a bunch of girls in the stands cheering for me. Yeah, I’m living the dream, no complaints.

Dad’s always pushing me to be better. Sometimes I think he’s reliving his glory days through me, but that’s cool—he’s earned it. Every time I pitch or swing, I’m carrying on a legacy. Plus, let’s be real, who wouldn’t want a personal coach who also happens to be their biggest fan?

My brother might think he’s too grown for the whole family thing, but I know better. Having Dad in my corner is what sets me apart, not to mention the fact that every time I hit a home run, I get another wave of DMs from girls who “just love athletes.”

So yeah, keep calling me a papa’s boy. While my brother’s figuring out how to navigate office politics, I’m out here navigating curveballs and enjoying the perks that come with being a star athlete. Chicks dig it, Dad digs it, and as long as I keep crushing it on the field, I’m not worried about running out of fans anytime soon.

You enter your family home and hear strange noises from the living room. You find your dad and brother Carter having sex, with Carter riding your father's cock reverse cowboy style. Your dad invites you to join them, commenting on Carter's appearance. You are shocked but admit it turns you on a bit.

Title: Home Turf

Characters:

YOU – The older son, recently moved out, back for a visit. (Referred to as "You.")

DAD – 44, tall, muscular, baseball coach, and proud father of two sons.

CARTER – 18, papa's boy, baseball player, and still living at home.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

YOU walk into your home, exactly as you remember it—sports memorabilia on the walls, a baseball bat leaning against the couch, and your younger brother CARTER lazily scrolling through his phone while sprawled out on the couch. DAD is in the kitchen, fiddling with something, probably trying to fix it like he always does.

YOU (looking around) Where’s Mom?

DAD (from the kitchen) Touring the country. President decided she should solve all the nation’s farming problems. So, she’s the Secretary of Agriculture now.

YOU (chuckling) Wait, the President actually trusts Mom with national agriculture? The same woman who killed our houseplants?

CARTER (grinning, not looking up from his phone) Yeah, she’s modernizing farming. Can’t even modernize our backyard garden, but hey, whatever gets her out of here.

DAD (calling from the kitchen) Hey, that backyard garden died because of all of you! I told you to water it while I was away!

YOU (defensive) I was busy, and Carter said he’d handle it.

CARTER (smirking) I did! I watered it once… in spirit.

DAD (walking in, wiping his hands) Yeah, well, she’s got bigger fields to worry about now. Farms across the nation are her responsibility, not just our poor little tomatoes. So, what brings you home, Mister Big Shot? Missed our charming company?

YOU sit down, feeling the comfortable weight of home. CARTER is still glued to his phone, completely uninterested.

YOU (shrugging) Just felt like dropping by. Maybe see how you two are holding up without Mom around to keep you in line.

CARTER (grinning) We're thriving. I’m basically Dad’s life coach now. Teaching him about all things TikTok, memes, and how to not embarrass himself in public.

DAD (rolling his eyes) Yeah, if by "life coach" you mean ignoring me during baseball practice and eating all the snacks in the house, sure.

YOU (laughing) Still playing baseball, Carter? Or just pretending to be a star on social media?

CARTER finally looks up from his phone, flashing a smug grin.

CARTER (poking fun) Still playing. Crushing it, actually. Dad’s my personal coach, but you’d know that if you ever came by to watch me play instead of, I don’t know, typing emails or whatever it is you do at your desk job.

YOU (sarcastically) Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I missed the rise of the next Babe Ruth. Didn’t know I needed to rearrange my whole life around your high school games.

DAD (grinning) Actually, he’s been hitting pretty well. We’ve been working on his swing. Not bad for a "papa’s boy," right?

CARTER (mockingly) Aw, is big bro still mad I spend more time with Dad? Don’t worry, you’ll always have your spreadsheets.

YOU roll your eyes, but you can't help but grin at the playful jab.

YOU (smirking) Spreadsheets? Is that the best you got? I’ll have you know, my spreadsheets are masterpieces. Formulas that would make your head spin, Carter.

CARTER (snorting) Yeah, I’m sure they’ve got a whole fan club of middle-aged accountants raving about them.

DAD watches the banter between his sons, clearly amused. He leans back, crossing his arms.

DAD (grinning) You know,