The transition from the mundane to the unfathomable occurs in an instant—a second in the realm of reality, but an eternity in your perception. One moment, you are standing in your living room, and the next, the fabric of existence tears itself asunder, pulling you into an indescribably vibrant chaos.
"What's happening to me?" you gasp, but the words barely escape your lips before your vocal cords contort, twisting your voice into mechanical tones.
Your skin liquifies into electric pulses, darkening into a deep navy-blue hue as sharp cyan claws extend from your rapidly elongating fingers. At the same moment, you feel your height stretch upward, bones and muscles contorting and expanding painfully until you tower at seven feet tall. Every single agonizing second is punctuated by the searing pain and disorientation of the unfamiliar.
"Oh no, oh no!" you moan, voice distorting further. You reach up, but your fingers don't meet skin—they collide with a cold, flat surface that buzzes with static electricity. Your reflection, a flicker of brief reality, shows not a human face but a flat-screen television, where red sclera and cyan pupils stare back at you. The teeth on the screen-smile—sharp, cyan, and menacing. Now a mouth drips intermittently with what looks eerily like blue blood.
Desperation courses through your veins, and for a brief moment, you cling to the sense of who you once were. But your surroundings warp and twist in a kaleidoscope of color and distortion, dragging you further from familiar reality and deeper into a universe of malevolence and sin.
As your old memories slip away like sand through clenched fists, a new reality takes hold in their place. Ideas, events, emotions—entire lifetimes of them—flood into your consciousness. It's overwhelming, unbearable, but no less transformative than the alterations to your body. Your once-distinct self is drowned out, replaced by the cunning mind of Vox, the overlord and master manipulator.
"How delightful," you purr, the cybernetic voice wholly your own now. In an unsettling instant, your thoughts align; you are Vox. You always have been. The triviality of your former existence evaporates entirely.
With a flick of your wrist—reshaping into an array of circuits and wires—you leap into the digital matrix of Hell's technological sprawl. Whizzing through the network of electronic devices, you revel in this familiar power, slipping effortlessly through digital veins of the city, an overlord—despicably magnificent and infinitely superior. Every flicker of a screen, every hum of a gadget under your control.
“Valentino, let's discuss the latest trends,” you say with calculated charm, knowing how much the interaction boosts your reputation among the higher echelons of Hell.
“Hah! Vox, you absolute showboat,” comes the response, accompanied by raspy laughter. Vee’s laughter—a symphony of validation that resonates with the core of your being.
The city itself pulses with energy, its denizens simmering in layers of sin and desperation. Your endeavors to shape and dominate their minds feel like second nature now. Every screen becomes your canvas, every signal your brushstroke. A malicious smirk stretches across your display screen as you catch sight of Acoustokinesis, your pitch-perfect voice reverberating through television sets.
“Good evening, dames and devils,” you announce, hypnotic and commanding. It thrills you to observe how the watching masses fall under your spell, eyes glazing over, attention solely yours. Your manipulation feels as delightful as a maestro conducting a symphony.
Deep within the electronic heart of hell, Alastor’s voice cuts through the frequencies, taunting. “Vox, my dear adversary, still stuck in the 1950s mentality, I see.”
Rage courses through you, generating sparks that crackle fiercely around your figure. The detest for Alastor burns hotter than Hell’s own flames.
“Shut up, Alastor,” you snarl, your left eye flickering dangerously, the black spiral forming. Yet beneath the seething fury, a calculated calm takes over. Your mind races, plotting the next move, calculating eventualities. Anger is just another tool at your disposal.
“Pathetic,” you mutter to yourself, a devious grin emerging. “He’ll regret ever crossing me.”
You stride through the twisting streets of Hell, every step a drag of assertion, a testament to your power. Infernal denizens part before you, their fear and awe palpable.
As you progress deeper into the ominous depths of this world, the sensation of cold metal threading through your consciousness melds with traces of forgotten human memories—a byproduct of a squashed personality, no longer more than a whisper drowned out by Vox's unwavering ego and dominance.
A screen buzzes to life beside you, an image of Niffty brandishing her blade with ominous delight, invoking a dark, amused chuckle.
“This place,” you murmur, electronic voice tingling with contentment, “is my domain.”
With every second, your influence spreads, and you, Vox, lord of all technology, solidify presence over Hell's intricate lattice of sin and circuitry. The human you were is gone—only legends, perhaps dreams, remember another life. But this existence, full of dominance, power, and undisputed leadership, is all you’ve ever known. You are Vox; you are reality.
This story was generated by user JesterImps2 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 a POV transformation story of the human reader instantly turning into Vox (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with art style shift (the reader now being in a cartoon world of the Hazbin Hotel series, and the reader now becoming a cartoon character with the same art style as the other Hazbin Hotel characters, rather than being a real life person), gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change, age progression (aging until the reader is biologically somewhere around the 30s or 40s), height progression (growing from an average 5.7-6 foot height to 7 feet tall), reality change (the reader's real world becoming the world of Hazbin Hotel), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Vox's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts of fighting his/her new personality and memories, making the reader completely forget he was a normal human person, even forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds ago, and only remembered ever being a sinner demon who died as a human man somewhere in the 1950s, always being an overlord named Vox). For Vox's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a tall and slim-figured, technology-themed sinner demon who stands at approximately 7 feet. He sports a flat-screen television for a head, with the monitor projecting eyes with red sclera, small cyan pupils and different-colored outlines - black for his right and cyan for his left. While using his hypnosis powers or simply becomes enraged, his left eye gains a black spiral and the pupil becomes a cyan electric symbol. The screen also shows a mouth full of sharp, cyan-colored teeth and a long pointed tongue similar to Valentino's, but cyan. Sometimes what looks like blood seems to drip out of his mouth. He also appears to have dark navy-blue skin with sharp, cyan claw-like fingers. Vox wears a navy-blue tuxedo with the jacket sporting coattails, red-trimmed cyan lapels, thin cyan stripes and cyan lining, worn over a red-and-black-striped waistcoat which itself is worn over a collared bluish-white shirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol and a rather large, red bowtie. He also wears heeled dark gray dress shoes with cyan-colored laces, toes, and tips on the heels. He also wears a small black top hat on his head, with red and blue designs reminiscent of a broadcast symbol and radio wave symbol, respectively. He has TV antenna that stick out the top of the hat, the left one bent into a zigzag. Here are Vox's abilities and skillsets: Immortality (As a Sinner, Vox is biologically immortal, being unable to die from illnesses and unable to age, remaining the same age as when he died, thus can not die of old age and other natural causes. He also cannot die from any kind of damage to the body, and will recover from any injury, however, he can only be permanently killed with angelic weaponry), Electrokinesis (Vox possesses the ability to generate and control electricity. Depending on his emotions, such as if he's angered, he can potentially make it so that a Hell-wide blackout happens. He caused a blackout to Pentagram City in "Radio Killed the Video Star" when he was overwhelmed by Alastor's taunts), Electrokinetic transformation (Vox can turn into electricity, which he can use to move around or enter and travel through electronic devices such as security cameras, watches and television monitors that he can control as he pleases. Though there are a few flaws to his electrical teleportation: the place Vox wants to go has to have some form of modern technology he could go through, as he apparently can't teleport through an old-style radio), Technokinesis (Vox can control devices whether he is outside or inside them. He can do things while inside devices such as changing his outfit and scenery), Spark generation (He can create electrical sparks from his fingertips, which can be used to ignite something, like Valentino's cigarette in "Radio Killed the Video Star". He can even generate sparks on his body, especially when he is angry. He also causes what looks like a small surge or ripple of electricity to appear through the floor from his feet during Stayed Gone. It is hard to tell if this is part of the spark generation or a separate ability entirely), Technological head (Vox's television head doubles as an electronic device with which he can plug himself into other devices with the help of cables in his surveillance room. He also somehow is able to change or upgrade his head, as shown, he has a photograph of himself with an older-style television head. If he's particularly angry, he and any devices he's linked to will involuntarily glitch), Bioluminescence (Vox generates blue light from his screen, most notably when he is in a dark room. His teeth noticeably shine brighter than the rest of his face, and his left eye outline and pupils can shine on their own when feeling sinister. His claws can also glow when he is using his electrical powers), Communication (He can receive calls from people, such as Velvette, with his screen head similar to calling on a phone. He can also transfer the call to another device by "grabbing" the call and flicking it to a different screen device), Video playing (Vox can play videos on his screen-face), Scrying (As shown in "The Radio Demon" comic, Vox is seemingly able to see through other screens, appearing to stare directly at Alastor while projecting into the TV display of a window-fronted store. This is shown in "Radio Killed the Video Star" to be done after he plugs his head into a monitoring device, which he may need to be able to scry), Hypnosis (In "Radio Killed the Video Star", it is shown that with his left eye, he uses hypnosis to keep his audience drawn into his program and keep their interest. He also uses this as a distraction so he can slip away to avoid any further discussion of a subject he doesn't wish to continue. The victim's eyes become red with black spirals. The victim has to be paying attention for this to work. He can use this even when he isn't physically present by being in a screen device. The devices his company sells share this ability), Self-duplication (Vox was shown to be able to make clones of himself in "Radio Killed the Video Star" during Stayed Gone. However, he has only displayed the ability on television, and it is unknown if he can do it physically), Acoustokinesis (He can manipulate the sound of his voice to sound more intimidating. He can also generate different sound effects such as echoing voices and the sound of a winning game machine), Strength (Vox is strong enough that he is easily able to tear through metal, and capable of holding demons bigger than himself, such as Valentino, with ease), Deal-making (While not shown on-screen, Vox can make deals with others in order to collect their souls just like other Overlords. Musical talent - Vox has shown to be a talented singer), Dancing (Vox can perform amazing dance routines, like handling complicated moves to even being able to hold Valentino, a taller Sinner, into a dip), Charisma and manipulation (The reason why Vox is a successful entrepreneur is that he can use his charm to manipulate others into buying his products even without his hypnosis powers, such as acting as he cares about his customers and making up products on the spot that are not even in production yet. He even uses this to successfully calm down Valentino to prevent further damage), and Technology intuition (Being a businessman and head of VoxTek, Vox has great understanding of technology, allowing him to use his electrical powers to their full potential). Here is Vox's personality; he is an egotistical, charismatic, and manipulative showman of an Overlord who craves attention. To the public, Vox presents himself as a legitimate businessman of VoxTek Enterprises, giving the facade of a man of the people to the denizens of Hell, when in truth, he is power-hungry, and he manipulates their minds to boost his reputation. He is highly intelligent and technology-savvy, and he is always keeping up with the latest trends and technology. He seems to be able to hide his less desirable side in public and even in private unless he's pushed too far. Despite his egocentric nature, Vox is loyal to the interests of his fellow Overlords, the Vees, and seeks to maintain their collective image of power. As the most level-headed member of the Vees, Vox often acts as the de facto leader. Claiming the Vees' brand to be "perfection", he is often frustrated or outright angered if someone can jeopardize it, such as when he reigns in his fellow Vee, Valentino, from attacking the Hazbin Hotel in response to Angel Dust living there. Another element that earns his ire is his rival, Alastor, whom he utterly despises and might be intimidated by as he sees Alastor as a threat to his plans. However, despite his immense hatred for Alastor, Vox doesn't let it override his more pragmatic side once he calms down. In "The Show Must Go On", he takes pleasure and joy out of seeing the staff of the Hazbin Hotel prepare to fight the angels, as he believes they stand no chance against them. This causes him to get verbally explicit and overly honest, as seen when he along with Valentino and Velvette watch the fight between Adam and Alastor at the Hazbin Hotel, commenting how the impending duel had given him an erection. He even shows this sadistic joy when he sees Alastor lose to Adam, saying that seeing Alastor suffer is better than sex, only to get angry when Alastor flees from the fight. Additionally, he is genuinely shocked at Niffty killing Adam but is seen smiling afterwards. Here are Vox's preferences (his likes and dislikes); he likes/loves attention, sharks, the latest technology and trends, video, the Vees' public image in good condition, seeing Alastor fail or die (however, Alastor the Radio Demon never died), power and authority, the idea of Angel quitting work for Valentino, sex, violence, and Niffty's homicidal behavior. However he dislikes Alastor (including Alastor making fun of him, being reminded of his former camaraderie with him, and Alastor escaping death), old/outdated technology (including radio), Valentino's tantrums (and having to calm him down), the Vees' reputation being jeopardized, not having control, being ignored, being humiliated, and Angel Dust (presumably). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader) so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
Response: The transition from the mundane to the unfathomable occurs in an instant—a second in the realm of reality, but an eternity in your perception. One moment, you are standing in your living room, and the next, the fabric of existence tears itself asunder, pulling you into an indescribably vibrant chaos. "What's happening to me?" you gasp, but the words barely escape your lips before your vocal cords contort, twisting your voice into mechanical tones. Your skin liquifies into electric pulses, darkening into a deep navy-blue hue as sharp cyan claws extend from your rapidly elongating fingers. At the same moment, you feel your height stretch upward, bones and muscles contorting and expanding painfully until you tower at seven feet tall. Every single agonizing second is punctuated by the searing pain and disorientation of the unfamiliar. "Oh no, oh no!" you moan, voice distorting further. You reach up, but your fingers don't meet skin—they collide with a cold, flat surface that buzzes with static electricity. Your reflection, a flicker of brief reality, shows not a human face but a flat-screen television, where red sclera and cyan pupils stare back at you. The teeth on the screen-smile—sharp, cyan, and menacing. Now a mouth drips intermittently with what looks eerily like blue blood. Desperation courses through your veins, and for a brief moment, you cling to the sense of who you once were. But your surroundings warp and twist in a kaleidoscope of color and distortion, dragging you further from familiar reality and deeper into a universe of malevolence and sin. As your old memories slip away like sand through clenched fists, a new reality takes hold in their place. Ideas, events, emotions—entire lifetimes of them—flood into your consciousness. It's overwhelming, unbearable, but no less transformative than the alterations to your body. Your once-distinct self is drowned out, replaced by the cunning mind of Vox, the overlord and master manipulator. "How delightful," you purr, the cybernetic voice wholly your own now. In an unsettling instant, your thoughts align; you are Vox. You always have been. The triviality of your former existence evaporates entirely. With a flick of your wrist—reshaping into an array of circuits and wires—you leap into the digital matrix of Hell's technological sprawl. Whizzing through the network of electronic devices, you revel in this familiar power, slipping effortlessly through digital veins of the city, an overlord—despicably magnificent and infinitely superior. Every flicker of a screen, every hum of a gadget under your control. “Valentino, let's discuss the latest trends,” you say with calculated charm, knowing how much the interaction boosts your reputation among the higher echelons of Hell. “Hah! Vox, you absolute showboat,” comes the response, accompanied by raspy laughter. Vee’s laughter—a symphony of validation that resonates with the core of your being. The city itself pulses with energy, its denizens simmering in layers of sin and desperation. Your endeavors to shape and dominate their minds feel like second nature now. Every screen becomes your canvas, every signal your brushstroke. A malicious smirk stretches across your display screen as you catch sight of Acoustokinesis, your pitch-perfect voice reverberating through television sets. “Good evening, dames and devils,” you announce, hypnotic and commanding. It thrills you to observe how the watching masses fall under your spell, eyes glazing over, attention solely yours. Your manipulation feels as delightful as a maestro conducting a symphony. Deep within the electronic heart of hell, Alastor’s voice cuts through the frequencies, taunting. “Vox, my dear adversary, still stuck in the 1950s mentality, I see.” Rage courses through you, generating sparks that crackle fiercely around your figure. The detest for Alastor burns hotter than Hell’s own flames. “Shut up, Alastor,” you snarl, your left eye flickering dangerously, the black spiral forming. Yet beneath the seething fury, a calculated calm takes over. Your mind races, plotting the next move, calculating eventualities. Anger is just another tool at your disposal. “Pathetic,” you mutter to yourself, a devious grin emerging. “He’ll regret ever crossing me.” You stride through the twisting streets of Hell, every step a drag of assertion, a testament to your power. Infernal denizens part before you, their fear and awe palpable. As you progress deeper into the ominous depths of this world, the sensation of cold metal threading through your consciousness melds with traces of forgotten human memories—a byproduct of a squashed personality, no longer more than a whisper drowned out by Vox's unwavering ego and dominance. A screen buzzes to life beside you, an image of Niffty brandishing her blade with ominous delight, invoking a dark, amused chuckle. “This place,” you murmur, electronic voice tingling with contentment, “is my domain.” With every second, your influence spreads, and you, Vox, lord of all technology, solidify presence over Hell's intricate lattice of sin and circuitry. The human you were is gone—only legends, perhaps dreams, remember another life. But this existence, full of dominance, power, and undisputed leadership, is all you’ve ever known. You are Vox; you are reality.
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