**Title: The Breaking of the Broadcast—A Transformation Tale**
---
The odd crimson fog of Hell flickered and fractured. Charlie Morningstar nervously adjusted her bowtie and gave her trademark peppy, if slightly anxious, smile. The Hazbin Hotel’s corridor seemed to hum with the residual static of Alastor’s presence—he once again loomed in the parlor, chewing over some elaborate scheme or wry anecdote, his antlered head cocked, eyes glowing like fevered radio dials.
Charlie’s heart—sweet and determined, yet so often troubled—hammered in her chest. “Alastor, we're going to make things better,” she insisted, her optimism refusing to be dimmed.
“Ah, my charming demon belle, always the sunny idealist,” Alastor crooned, his voice tinged with vintage static, smile inescapably wide. “But perhaps it is time for a change of tune!”
The world blurred—a strange, pulsing reality folding, cracking.
A thunderous *hum* filled the space. Both recoiled, confusion griping them. Their forms dissolved into color and line, surging and warping as reality itself began to deform.
Charlie's demon body quivered—her horns receded with a *whisk*, pink-slashed hair shortening and dulling, the ponytail dissolving as it darkened, reshaping. Her chest flattened, the soft swell of her breasts receding until only a gentle rise of muscle remained, and her neck thickened, a pronounced Adam’s apple forming, roughening her songbird’s voice into something deep and resonant.
Charlie gasped, panic in his—his?—deepening voice: “Wh-what’s… happening to meeee…?”
Below, a searing, tingling pressure. The feminine architecture of her—now his—crotch inverted, folding inward, twisting, and reemerging with shocking immediacy as masculine anatomy. The sensation was strange, achy, but not exactly unpleasant—just disorienting, as though a bright spotlight swept away all the shadows of who she’d been.
His clothes jerked and shifted—red tuxedo jacket bleeding in hue into a simple pale red flannel, suspenders melting into comfortable black overalls. He staggered as his bones compressed, height falling from six feet to a grounded, familiar human man’s stance, his muscle mass redistributing into lean strength, hands roughening with honest calluses. The demon in him—the magic, the ache for redemption—hollowed out, replaced not with grief, but a warm, gentle contentment, full of laughter and sunset strolls.
Alastor’s body, meanwhile, shivered in a fevered rhythm—his demonic antlers crunching inward with a *crack*, bobcut lengthening down into dark waves. His once-broadened shoulders slimmed, spine compressing from seven feet tall to just a modest 5’3”. The impossible smile wavered, lips swelling and softening, glossy and flushed as if touched by gentle lipstick. His voice lost its signature static, rising—higher, sweeter, almost musical in its nervousness.
“What is—What’s going on? Why do I…” The words trailed, replaced by startled gasps as his chest blossomed, firm pectorals blossoming into soft, sensitive breasts, hips widening, thighs thickening with new, welcome softness. The constricting heat of change gathered between his legs—a familiar pressure *inverted*, a wet *pop* echoing as his male anatomy vanished, reshaped into woman’s form; the sudden addition of an internal warmth solidifying with the unmistakable pulse of life: a baby nestled within, swelling her belly out in a gentle curve.
His—her—red pinstripe suit melted into the subtle shimmer of a long red dress; heavy boots compressed into the dainty uplift of black heeled shoes. An enormous sense of clarity washed over her, the darkness of demon kind falling away, replaced by the bubbling laughter of family dinners, the softness of childhood photos, and the ache of waiting for a new life to arrive.
Alastor tried to cling to fading memories: *Jazz, radio static, the press of a deal...* but it was all so insubstantial, dissolving under the weight of this new reality. “No, no, I am—I am Alastor—aren’t I?” The voice sounded foreign yet familiar, feminine and warm.
Charlie, now a human man—muscular but soft around the belly from days in the workshop—looked down at his hands, blinking in wonder. “My name… what was it? Charles? No… Chris... or... Connor...?” He could barely find the thread—demon, redemption, hotel—all fading like mist in the morning sun, until he simply remembered his real name. “Clark,” he said softly, as if rediscovering it for the very first time.
The world completed its transition. The last hints of 2D hellish unreality flickered, yielding to warm sunlight filtering through cotton curtains. The distortion became a full, encompassing darkness.
---
A gasp.
A woman jolted upright in her bed, hand automatically settling over her round belly, heart pounding. Ragged dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The room was normal—her room; familiar posters, the framed graduation photo perched between a half-eaten book and a baby rattle, family smiles frozen in time on the walls. Calendars, memorabilia—mundane, comforting.
Beside her, her husband—Clark—was just beginning to stir, a gentle snore muffled under the pillow.
With a sigh, she let the odd, fragmented dream slip away. Already, she couldn't recall what had seemed so important—shadows of radio static, bizarre confidence, and antlers. But those were nonsense. Mere fragments from imaginative dreams, nothing more.
She spoke, her voice clear, strong, gently amused. “Clark, are you awake yet? Little one’s busy this morning.” She rubbed her belly, smiling as she felt a flutter from within.
Clark turned toward her, eyes full of adoration and warmth, the simple certainty of love in their gaze. “Morning, Anna,” he said, his voice deep and sweet, sleepily reaching to cradle her cheek, “Did you sleep well?”
She laughed, shaking off the fading fragments of her forgotten nightmare. “Of course. Just had a weird dream. Must be the baby’s doing.”
He pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”
Anna smiled, her entire world rooted in this moment—her home, her husband, their future child. The past—whatever it was—had no hold on her. She was and always had been Anna, a soon-to-be mother with a kind husband and happy heart.
She stretched, breathing in the sunlight. “What should we do today? Maybe finish putting the crib together?”
Clark grinned, his arms around her as he teased, “You direct, I’ll assemble. Same as always.”
Anna rolled her eyes playfully and kissed him back, content and complete and fully—irrevocably—alive and human.
---
**End.**
This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli7 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
Prompt: Write the transformation story of Charlie Morningstar and Alastor the Radio Demon (both from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel) turning into a married human man and a pregnant human woman (both from real life), complete with gender change (Charlie turns from female to male, her breasts vanish as her throat gains an Adam's apple to give her a more masculine voice and her female privates (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) from her crotch/nether region invert itself and pushes out into male private parts (a penis and testicles), while Alastor turns from male to female, a pair of womanly breasts grows on his chest, while his mouth shrank to a normal-sized human mouth with his lips plumping up into a woman's lips with lipsticks applied to it, as body becomes more curvy and feminine (with his waists curving inwards while his hips and thighs pump up with feminine fat to make him sexier, and due to becoming pregnant, his belly grows larger and more rotund with a growing baby inside), while his Adam's apple in his throat vanished to make his voice higher-pitched and feminine, while his male genitals (testicles and a penis) invert itself and sucks into his body with a wet "pop" to turn into a vagina, ovaries, and uterus, and his tummy grows rotund due to growing a baby inside), voice change (Charlie's voice becomes deeper and masculine, while Alastor's voice not only becomes higher-pitched and feminine, but also loose a radio static-like effect in his voice), clothes change (Charlie's clothes instantly turns into a human man's outfit, while Alastor's clothes instantly turns into a human woman's outfit), age change, height regression (Charlie , while Alastor turns from 7 feet tall to 5.3 feet tall), supernatural powers loss (both Charlie and Alastor lose their supernatural powers/abilities), art style and reality change (Charlie's and Alastor's world in Hazbin Hotel's depiction of Hell becoming the real world on Earth, with their bodies' art style turning from 2D-animated into live-action to match everyone from this new reality), and mind/mental change (with Charlie's and Alastor's personality and memories becoming fuzzy, with Charlie's being completely replaced with a human man's personality and memories, and with Alastor's being completely replaced with a human woman's personality and memories (as his, now her, face loses her permanent grin and making her able to make various emotions like a normal person), despite their best efforts of fighting these new personality and memories (Charlie remembers his real/true name that starts with "C", and Alastor then remembers her real/true name that starts with "A"), and as the mind clears up, the hellish world around both of them fades away as it briefly turns black and, after turning back to normal (her real life has always been a human woman), the woman (formerly Alastor) jolts back to consciousness, waking up from her dream (which she has completely forgotten about) and back to her true reality (therefore she is back to her true self) and she opens her eyes and wakes up to find herself in her bed within her very own bedroom (with every familiar and comforting items she always knew, as well as a calender, and image frames with herself from different ages as she had always remembered, including family photos of herself and her family (including some vacation photos with her family throughout the years, and baby photos of herself when she was a baby, to name a few), photos of herself as a teenager dating with her future-husband boyfriend (back in their high school days), a photo of her graduation day, a photo of her wedding day with her husband, and many other photos, as she had always remembered) with her husband (formerly Charlie) nearby (who happens to share the same bed as her), she has completely forgotten that she was ever Alastor the Radio Demon, later realizing that she was imagining/dreaming all this time and realizing that her previous self as Alastor was not real (confirming that she was never a man (she had always been a woman) and that she was never a demon to begin with (since demons never existed), even she knew that she was never Alastor (she does not know anyone named Alastor), that was impossible since Alastor was never real (he was just an adults animated character and not real) and she knows that she was and always always had been a human woman and she had always been herself), although she doesn't understand on what she had imagined/dreamt a minute ago, and she remembered that she was and always had been a normal human woman who lived in a peaceful life (and she knew that she always had been a human woman, which is her real and true self), and she knows that she will soon to be mother). For Charlie Morningstar's appearance (before the transformation begins), she is a tall, slender hellborn demon, standing at around 6 feet tall or over. She has long, blonde hair, with lighter blonde and pink highlights, which is tied into a twice-banded low ponytail. Her blonde bangs flip to her left with a curl. Her lips are black and she has rosy red cheeks. She wears grey eyeliners, her eyes are red, her sclera is light yellow, and she has thick black eyelashes, both top and bottom. She accessorizes with a small black bowtie and black suspenders, with an untucked white, long-sleeved dress-shirt. Over this she usually wears a fitted red tuxedo jacket with dark-red lapels and a pair of red fitted pants. She wears black and white saddle shoes. When in her full demon form, a pair of dark-reddish horns protrude from her head and her eyes' sclera turn bright red with slit pupils. Here is Charlie's personality; she is compassionate and empathetic to a fault, feeling genuine upset at the idea of harm coming to others. Although she isn't unaware that Hell is populated with souls that have committed egregious acts in their living lives, she still views their yearly extermination as a senseless waste and makes it her personal mission to help them avoid it via self-betterment and eventual redemption, something she is seemingly alone in believing is possible. Charlie's idealism, while setting her apart from many of her hellborn peers, can also make her naïve to many of the harsh realities that appear to stand in the way of her potential success - something her girlfriend, Vaggie, tries to remind her of, only to be cheerfully ignored in favor of a more blinkered, sunny optimism. This can also cause her to rush headlong into the initial stages of her plans without much preparation. Charlie has a love for musical theatre, song and dance, and will often convey her emotions and ideas through showtunes and ballads. She appears to take perceived failures hard, as she believes her heartfelt theatrical passion should be enough to bring people over to her way of thinking, and is disheartened when it's not as simple as she imagines. She openly admits during a dejected voicemail to her mother that she doesn't actually know what she is doing, or how to make her plan for reforming sinners work in practice. Despite being sweet and lacking 'street-smarts', this doesn't make Charlie a pushover or stupid. When people insult her or openly mock her ideals and plans, she has no hesitation in standing up for herself, or even rolling up her sleeves to physically fight back. She is also not above letting a few cuss words slip. Charlie also displays some grounding in her idealism, understanding that not all demons can be redeemed, or even likely to change for the better. She displays sensible hesitation when confronted with an ambiguous deal from some high-raking demons. For Alastor's appearance, he is a slim (having an unnaturally thin torso, neck, arms, and legs, except his shoulders are broad), dapper sinner demon with beige-colored skin, and usually has an unnaturally broad smile (reaching from each cheek's upper area) full of sharp, yellow teeth (he has no ability to frown due to this permanent smile). He is approximately 7 feet tall. He sports a pinkish-red cropped, angled bob-cut with black tips at the ends and two large, black tipped tufts of hair extending from the top of his head, evoking the ears of a deer. The style has an undercut at the back, and two small black antlers protruding from the crown, which can grow in size in his full demonic form. Alastor's eyes have dark-red sclerae, bright-red irises and thin black pupils (which can change into the shape of radio dials when shifting into his full demon form). He also has four fingers (like all Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters), unlike real world humans. His forearms and lower legs fade to dark grey, and he has red hoof-toed feet and red clawed fingers. Alastor wears a red pinstripe coat with dark-red lapels piped with white, which is ragged along the bottom hem. Underneath this he wears a bright red dress-shirt with a black cross on the chest, and long black dress pants with matching bright red cuffs. He also wears a dark-red oval-shaped monocle, rimmed with black, over his right eye. He accessorizes with a black knotted bowtie with a bright red center, black gloves with red at the fingertips, and black pointed-toe boots with red deer hoofprints emblazoned on the soles. Alastor also carries a thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, which he uses to play sound effects and broadcast his voice. His voice also sounds like it is coming from an old-fashioned vintage radio. Alastor has many supernatural powers, such as demon transformation (the ability to turn into a more powerful demon form), flexibility (able to contort his body into numerous unnatural poses), demonic magic (able to cast magic thanks to the high power-level he has accrued in the demon ranking system, this magic takes the visual form of glowing red symbols that resemble Voodoo veve, which float around him), shadow manipulation (able to summon shadows and manipulate them into doing his bidding), spatial warping (able to get around with the help of his shadow, allowing teleportation through this ability), portal creation (able to transport others to his location easily via the portals he makes), pyrokinesis (able to summon small balls of fire for display purpose), phytokinesis (able to make plants wilt with a single stare), manifestation, photokinesis (able to project red glowing light from his eyes as well as his microphone), and outfit alteration (capable of changing the outfits of his targets as well as his own with a snap of a finger). He is also capable of various other abilities including deal-making (as Alastor is known to be a deal-maker demon; deal-maker demons like Alastor can increase their power by dealing in souls, which is a very powerful commodity in hell, so they’re seen as very manipulative and not to be toyed with, deal-making is not something every demon can do, as such it is not to be taken lightly as it doesn’t generally work out well for the other party), broadcasting (when he was a living human, Alastor's profession was as a radio show host, and he continues his broadcasts in Hell as a demon, ensuring that Hell's denizens are aware of his activities over the airwaves, earning him the title of "The Radio Demon"), bilingualism (Alastor can speak English fluently as well as some broken Creole French), cooking (Alastor is noted to be "a big foodie" and mentions having admired his mother's cooking, specifically her Jambalaya), musical/dancing/theatrical talent (Alastor is known to display moderate vocal abilities and excels at dancing, with some people noting tap to be a style he excels in specifically, he also shows a flair for theatrical showmanship), and wide intellect (Alastor is known to be quite a cunning individual, resulting in him accruing a large amount of power through his tricks and deal-making). Alastor stands out from many of the more chaotic residents of hell for his well maintained amiable persona. He gives a first-impression of a good-natured and charming man, wearing a permanently wide grin on his face at all times. His behavior, mannerisms, and even his voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent, often using quaint anachronisms such as "the picture show" and refers to Charlie as a "charming demon belle". This playful dandyish exterior, however, obscures a much darker side to him - one with high levels of self-importance - and he will not hesitate to use physical violence when others don't act in line with his very particular values or expectations. He is noted to be narcissistic, with his love for himself being stated that no one else can measure up to it, and he does not see many people quite up to his level. Alastor is described as a man of duality. He values good manners, affability and intelligence very highly in others, and will actively look down on those who do not meet his standards, however he will often play fast and loose with these arbitrary rules in regards to himself and his own conduct. Alastor has an odd sense of morality, which is described as "not normal", and has been noted to be quite sadistic, even cannibalistic, devouring lesser demons or those that have incurred his anger. Despite this, he keeps close friends with the other cannibals of Hell, including the denizens at the Cannibal Town. His smiling is a very self enforced form of ego and a show of power and dominance; he looks down on anyone who lets their true emotions show, and even when faced with a rival in strength, if they let slip a frown, Alastor will see them as truly weak. His smile is also to be more unpredictable and unnerving, and gives him a feeling of complete control over himself. While Alastor is powerful, he is aware that there are other demons and entities that rival him in terms of power, such as other Overlords. For this reason, he is wary around such demons, as they could potentially harm him if he is not careful. Despite everything, Alastor does genuinely seem to want to help Charlie run the Hazbin Hotel, albeit for his own amusement, and hopes for its failure over siding with her idealism. Alastor also dismisses the idea that redemption is possible as laughable, nevertheless, he fulfills his role as patron as promised, providing the hotel with staff, and protecting Charlie and her business from outside threats. He views the whole endeavor as a fun distraction from his decades of boredom. Despite consistently having a confident and cheerful demeanor, he harbors a vulnerable side that becomes apparent when confronted with reminders of being "chained". In this instance, his facade of certainty crumbles, and he succumbs to panic attack. According to Mimzy (Alastor's friend), when Alastor was alive he would become a "kitten" (not literally a kitten) if he drank enough rye whiskey while jazz music was on. Here are Alastor's preferences (his likes and dislikes); he likes himself (including his own fashion style), smiling, doodling, gossip and drama, invading others' personal space, his mother and her cooking, jazz music, strong liquor, cooking, seeing people fail, playing pranks, bitter tastes (especially those of black coffee), theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, venison, being in charge, Charlie's potential, pineapple on pizza, and making jokes. However, he dislikes Lucifer Morningstar (the king of Hell and Charlie Morningstar's father) and his "tacky" circus décor, Susan (a Cannibal Town resident), being touched (including his hair being touched), dogs, frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, being humbled, post-30s' technology, anyone ruining his outfit, being controlled and reminded of it, the idea of the hotel failing, and Mimzy bringing destruction to the hotel. For the human man's appearance (after Charlie turned into him), he is an average-sized human, about 180 centimeters (5 feet 9 inches tall) and weigh 89 kilograms (197.9 lbs), and with light tan skin (no red cheeks, black nose, or black lips, only a normal man's cheeks, nose, and lips), short dark hair, handsome normal (human) eyes, flat human teeth, a masculine body, a slightly pudgy/protruding belly, and nice lean muscles (including some nice six-pack abs). His outfit consists of a pale red short-sleeved shirt, a pair of black overalls, and a pair of brown working leather shoes. He (who has a woodworking job, hence his slightly pudgy belly yet with lean muscles) is a caring husband to his kindly wife and he himself is sweet, innocent, fatherly, and smart. For the pregnant woman's appearance (after Alastor turned into her), she is an average-sized human lady, about 159 centimeters (5 feet 3 inches) tall and weighing 59 kilograms (130 lbs), and with light tan skin, long dark hair, beautiful normal (human) eyes, flat human teeth, a curvy body, and a developing baby in her tummy (since she is pregnant). Her outfit consists of a lady's long red dress, a white bra, panties, and black heeled lady's shoes. She is a caring wife to her kindly husband and she herself is sweet, innocent, motherly, and smart. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
Response: **Title: The Breaking of the Broadcast—A Transformation Tale** --- The odd crimson fog of Hell flickered and fractured. Charlie Morningstar nervously adjusted her bowtie and gave her trademark peppy, if slightly anxious, smile. The Hazbin Hotel’s corridor seemed to hum with the residual static of Alastor’s presence—he once again loomed in the parlor, chewing over some elaborate scheme or wry anecdote, his antlered head cocked, eyes glowing like fevered radio dials. Charlie’s heart—sweet and determined, yet so often troubled—hammered in her chest. “Alastor, we're going to make things better,” she insisted, her optimism refusing to be dimmed. “Ah, my charming demon belle, always the sunny idealist,” Alastor crooned, his voice tinged with vintage static, smile inescapably wide. “But perhaps it is time for a change of tune!” The world blurred—a strange, pulsing reality folding, cracking. A thunderous *hum* filled the space. Both recoiled, confusion griping them. Their forms dissolved into color and line, surging and warping as reality itself began to deform. Charlie's demon body quivered—her horns receded with a *whisk*, pink-slashed hair shortening and dulling, the ponytail dissolving as it darkened, reshaping. Her chest flattened, the soft swell of her breasts receding until only a gentle rise of muscle remained, and her neck thickened, a pronounced Adam’s apple forming, roughening her songbird’s voice into something deep and resonant. Charlie gasped, panic in his—his?—deepening voice: “Wh-what’s… happening to meeee…?” Below, a searing, tingling pressure. The feminine architecture of her—now his—crotch inverted, folding inward, twisting, and reemerging with shocking immediacy as masculine anatomy. The sensation was strange, achy, but not exactly unpleasant—just disorienting, as though a bright spotlight swept away all the shadows of who she’d been. His clothes jerked and shifted—red tuxedo jacket bleeding in hue into a simple pale red flannel, suspenders melting into comfortable black overalls. He staggered as his bones compressed, height falling from six feet to a grounded, familiar human man’s stance, his muscle mass redistributing into lean strength, hands roughening with honest calluses. The demon in him—the magic, the ache for redemption—hollowed out, replaced not with grief, but a warm, gentle contentment, full of laughter and sunset strolls. Alastor’s body, meanwhile, shivered in a fevered rhythm—his demonic antlers crunching inward with a *crack*, bobcut lengthening down into dark waves. His once-broadened shoulders slimmed, spine compressing from seven feet tall to just a modest 5’3”. The impossible smile wavered, lips swelling and softening, glossy and flushed as if touched by gentle lipstick. His voice lost its signature static, rising—higher, sweeter, almost musical in its nervousness. “What is—What’s going on? Why do I…” The words trailed, replaced by startled gasps as his chest blossomed, firm pectorals blossoming into soft, sensitive breasts, hips widening, thighs thickening with new, welcome softness. The constricting heat of change gathered between his legs—a familiar pressure *inverted*, a wet *pop* echoing as his male anatomy vanished, reshaped into woman’s form; the sudden addition of an internal warmth solidifying with the unmistakable pulse of life: a baby nestled within, swelling her belly out in a gentle curve. His—her—red pinstripe suit melted into the subtle shimmer of a long red dress; heavy boots compressed into the dainty uplift of black heeled shoes. An enormous sense of clarity washed over her, the darkness of demon kind falling away, replaced by the bubbling laughter of family dinners, the softness of childhood photos, and the ache of waiting for a new life to arrive. Alastor tried to cling to fading memories: *Jazz, radio static, the press of a deal...* but it was all so insubstantial, dissolving under the weight of this new reality. “No, no, I am—I am Alastor—aren’t I?” The voice sounded foreign yet familiar, feminine and warm. Charlie, now a human man—muscular but soft around the belly from days in the workshop—looked down at his hands, blinking in wonder. “My name… what was it? Charles? No… Chris... or... Connor...?” He could barely find the thread—demon, redemption, hotel—all fading like mist in the morning sun, until he simply remembered his real name. “Clark,” he said softly, as if rediscovering it for the very first time. The world completed its transition. The last hints of 2D hellish unreality flickered, yielding to warm sunlight filtering through cotton curtains. The distortion became a full, encompassing darkness. --- A gasp. A woman jolted upright in her bed, hand automatically settling over her round belly, heart pounding. Ragged dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The room was normal—her room; familiar posters, the framed graduation photo perched between a half-eaten book and a baby rattle, family smiles frozen in time on the walls. Calendars, memorabilia—mundane, comforting. Beside her, her husband—Clark—was just beginning to stir, a gentle snore muffled under the pillow. With a sigh, she let the odd, fragmented dream slip away. Already, she couldn't recall what had seemed so important—shadows of radio static, bizarre confidence, and antlers. But those were nonsense. Mere fragments from imaginative dreams, nothing more. She spoke, her voice clear, strong, gently amused. “Clark, are you awake yet? Little one’s busy this morning.” She rubbed her belly, smiling as she felt a flutter from within. Clark turned toward her, eyes full of adoration and warmth, the simple certainty of love in their gaze. “Morning, Anna,” he said, his voice deep and sweet, sleepily reaching to cradle her cheek, “Did you sleep well?” She laughed, shaking off the fading fragments of her forgotten nightmare. “Of course. Just had a weird dream. Must be the baby’s doing.” He pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Anna smiled, her entire world rooted in this moment—her home, her husband, their future child. The past—whatever it was—had no hold on her. She was and always had been Anna, a soon-to-be mother with a kind husband and happy heart. She stretched, breathing in the sunlight. “What should we do today? Maybe finish putting the crib together?” Clark grinned, his arms around her as he teased, “You direct, I’ll assemble. Same as always.” Anna rolled her eyes playfully and kissed him back, content and complete and fully—irrevocably—alive and human. --- **End.**
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