Page 88 of Huge Pucking Play

Dr. Anderson continues moving the wand, taking measurements and typing notes with her free hand. "Everything looks perfect. Good size, good development." She pauses, squinting at the screen. "Actually, I should say excellent size. Not to be unprofessional, but I his penis is measuring quite large for this stage."

There's a beat of silence, during which I feel Garrett go completely still beside me.

"Is that...normal?" I ask, uncertain how to respond to this information.

"Oh, completely normal," she assures me. "Just on the upper end of the growth chart. Some boys are just more blessed than others." She continues typing, seemingly unaware of the bomb she's just dropped.

I make the mistake of looking at Garrett. His lips are pressed together so tightly they've nearly disappeared, but his eyes are dancing with suppressed laughter. I bite my cheek, hard, but it's no use—a snort escapes me.

Dr. Anderson glances up. "Something funny?"

"No," we say in unison, which only makes it harder not to laugh.

She looks between us, confused. "Did I miss something?"

Garrett clears his throat. "Inside joke. Sorry."

She nods slowly and smiles, seeming to understand what’s going on. "Well, I'll just print some images for you to take home and you can check out.”

Once she leaves to print the ultrasound images, we both lose it. Garrett bends forward, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I cover my face with both hands, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

"Did she really—" I gasp.

"Yep." Garrett wipes his eyes. "Our son is hung."

"The Hughes legacy continues," I say, which sets us off again.

When we've finally stopped laughing, Garrett helps me clean the gel off my stomach. His hand lingers there, warm and protective over my growing bump.

"A boy," he says again, wonder in his voice. "Our boy."

"God help us if your old teammates ever find out about this ultrasound." I sit up, adjusting my shirt. "Can you imagine? They'll start calling him Little Huge before he's even born."

His laugh is quiet as he pulls me against him. "I love you. Both of you." His hand returns to my belly, a gesture that's become his habit lately. "So, a son. Any name ideas?"

"So many. I have no idea how we’re going to choose.”

Garrett shakes his head, but he's smiling. "We've got time to figure it out."

Dr. Anderson returns with a strip of ultrasound photos, which Garrett takes with careful hands, like they're made of something precious and fragile.

As we leave the clinic, stepping into the bright afternoon sunlight, I feel a surge of excitement. We're having a boy. A perfect, healthy little boy who hopefully will someday grow into a man just like his father. It's overwhelming in the best possible way.

Garrett's arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close against his side where I fit perfectly.

"A son," he says again, like he's testing out the word, getting used to how it feels.

I lean into him, soaking up his warmth, his strength, his steadiness. Whatever comes next—whatever challenges parenthood brings—we'll face them together. The thought settles in my chest, as warm and certain as his hand in mine.

Epilogue - Garrett

8 months later

Carter's tiny fingers wrap around mine. It's 3 AM, and I’m exhausted. But watching his little chest rise and fall, his lips pursed in concentration even in sleep, I feel more alive than I ever have. This love is different than anything I've known—it’s so completely consuming.

Carter's dark blue eyes flutter open. "Hey, little man," I whisper, careful not to wake Cyn, who's finally sleeping beside us. The bedside lamp casts a soft glow across our bedroom.

He squirms and makes that little noise, the precursor to a full-blown wail. I scoop him up before he starts, cradling him against my chest as I quickly pad out of the bedroom.

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