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He was great with kids, wasn’t territorial, got along with the other two like they’d known each other their whole lives, and we loved him. Well, apart from one thing – the damn dog thought he was a lapdog thanks to the girls never letting him walk when we’d first gotten him. That was cute when he was a large puppy, but now he was a big ass dog and would flop down on your lap, turn onto his back and wait for you to give him the loves.
And he only did that shit with me!
Turning back to Lily who was waiting excitedly, I raised an eyebrow. “Veto!”
“But you loved him.”
“I’m not naming my son after a cock,” I told her firmly, just as the door opened behind me, and the doctor and nurse walked in, stopping instantly and looking at me in shock.
Jesus, shit. This could only happen to me. At this stage, it’s a wonder anyone was ever shocked by anything that came out of a Townsend’s mouth, especially my own.
“She wants to name our baby after a chicken,” I explained through clenched teeth. “He was a cock, too.”
When they just blinked at me, I sighed and looked down at my feet.
Snapping out of it, the doctor shook her head and walked over to where my wife was lying on the bed like she was a royal or something. Which she was, she was totally my queen – one who’d scared my dick into hiding for life, but a queen none the less.
As they went about doing whatever it was they were here for, my phone pinged in my pocket with a text from Archer. It was a text that gave me a grand plan though, a way to make sure this birth went perfectly, that I didn’t pussy out, and so that everyone could share the moment with us.
It. Was. Genius!
Two hours and three minutes later…
“Are you on Instagram recording this live?” she screeched, tightening her hold on my hand to the point I could almost hear my bones screaming.
“We’re having a baby, Lily. People want to share this moment with us,” I repeated for the tenth time, holding my phone up so I could get a better shot of her lying on the bed.
No, I wasn’t standing at the bottom and showing everyone everything, I wasn’t that stupid. No one needed that image haunting them for life, and people would be eating their dinner right about now, so why ruin it for them?
“I’m going to show them what the inside of your colon looks like. No, I’ll show them your taint. Give me the phone!”
“Ok, Lily. On the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can,” the doctor said loudly, getting her attention off of me and onto the job at hand.
“I’m not doing it while he’s showing the world what happens when someone gives birth to a baby with a head the size of an air balloon,” she growled.
“It’s not that many people,” I lied, seeing the figure showing how many people were watching quickly going up.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
At that moment, the next contraction hit, and her leg came flying out as she reared up to bear down, pushing me down the bed and into the line of fire. All the world got to witness the baby’s head coming out, the sheet and the doctor’s hands thankfully shielding her actual vagina from the view of the nine-hundred-and-four viewers. But the baby itself? Yeah, I was betting a lot of people lost their appetite that night.
Unfortunately, they also got to witness the moment I saw it as I looked at the screen of my phone, the blood leaving my head, and me fainting out cold on the floor. It was a second of baby vagina viewing, and ten minutes of an up close view of my nose where the phone had landed on it.
At the end of it all, I had a headache, but I was also holding my new son as I lay next to my wife on the bed.
Spencer Hurst Townsend.
All seven pounds and one ounce of him, screaming his head off, looking just like his daddy.
