"Curse of the Radio Demon: The Were-Alastor Chronicles"
2 Points
1
You stand at the edge of the forest, the bite still throbbing at your throat. Each passing heartbeat feels like a drum, growing louder as the moon rises higher into the night sky. You remember those sinister eyes, the laughter that echoed like a haunted melody, and most of all, you remember his words: "This is only the beginning of the curse."
The world was still spinning as you tried to comprehend what had happened. Days fumbled by, each nightmore unsettling than the last. Your family and friends, they'd seen the marks, the pain-stricken furrow in your brow, but how could you explain to them what was coming? How could they understand that the Radio Demon himself had marked you, casting a curse that would forever change your fate?
The full moon hangs like a glowing sentinel in the sky, and you suddenly feel an ominous pull. The transformation begins slow, a tickling sensation washing over your skin. You gasp as pain grips your spine, but the initial thought is one of confusion. "A werewolf? Is that what this is?" But the transforming body betrays those thoughts. This isn't fur or claws you feel growing; it’s something much more sinister.
Your height surges; you gasp for air as your muscles stretch. Red flickers of light dance around your limbs, and before long, you're towering at seven feet. A wave of dizziness swamps you, your hair elongates with tufts of black tipping what is now a red bob cut. Fingers elongate into clawed extremities and your vision snaps to a crimson hue as your eyes twist and narrow into monstrous orbs. You feel the iconic monocle framing your vision, the world now seen through a red-tinted glass.
"No! This can’t be happening!" You scream in a voice that isn't yours. The words still linger, but they sound odd, like echoes wrapped in static radiating from an old-fashioned vintage radio.
Your clothing melds into the sinister attire of Alastor, complete with the red pinstripe coat and black knotted bowtie. Every inch is an oppressive reminder that you’re becoming him. Each snap of bone or twist of sinew brings that insidious grin closer to completion. "Frown-free since 1933!" you find yourself mirthing, without meaning to.
"Oh, don't worry, my dear!" a voice identical to your new one chirps out. Alastor materializes from the shadows, his blood-red eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. "You’ll find, once you let go, that being me is simply grand!"
"No, please!" You try to call out, but your voice has been replaced by his twisted version, filled with mirth yet dripping with disdain for all that is trivial and mortal.
“The fight only makes it more entertaining!” Alastor replies, not deterred by your protests. “Think of all the power! The endless buffet of souls to feast upon! And this delightful ability to broadcast my—our—every exploit. What fun!”
Your mind screams for your individuality as it drowns in Alastor’s memories – every deal, every drop of blood spilled, every haunting broadcast. The fight within you ebbs as Alastor’s confidence overwhelms your being. Your memories fade, unrelenting, grasping at straws as the last vestiges of your human self are replaced.
"I see you've come to your senses," the original Alastor declares, delighted. "Now, let us gleefully terrorize those who dare bask in our moonlit broadcasts!"
As Alastor, full and complete, you can’t help but chuckle darkly. The transformation has finished as the peak of the moon eclipses. Grasping your own cane, similar to but distinct from Alastor’s, you relish the burst of energy that coalesces in the sentient microphone. "Indeed, let's make this night an unforgettable performance!” you declare, finding pleasure in the sinister weight of your words.
Every full moon night, the terror repeats. Your friends, your family— to their horror, you become that diabolical twin who revels in the agony of others and the disarray caused. And once dawn arrives and your mortal shell returns, all you have is fleeting, incomplete recollections of terror and delight.
But as the darkness consumes you each full moon, Alastor’s voice, your new voice, reverberates: "I am Were-Alastor, and on these nights, the world shall fear us both!"
Your cries are the broadcasts now, transmitting terror far and wide, ensuring that on every full moon night, the entire realm quakes under the reign of the Radio Demon and his twin – the twin that was once you.
This story was generated by user MorningstarSon 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.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write the POV transformation story of a mortal human reader being cursed and transformed in every full moon night into an identical twin brother of Alastor (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change, age progression (becoming the age of 30s-40s years old, exactly as left off from Alastor's death from his human life in 1933, becoming immortal in the process), height progression (growing from a normal height to 7 feet tall), voice change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being permanently and completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite his best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him completely forget about his past self and only remember being Alastor the Radio Demon). For the reader's WereAlastor/Were-Alastor appearance (after the reader turned into his identical twin brother every full moon night), he is identical to Alastor in every way, in height, proportions, appearance, deep and voice (sounding like it's coming from an old vintage radio), supernatural powers, personality, and preferences. He also has his own thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, being of the different color from Alastor's own sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, whilst also having an eye in the middle of the microphone, and the WereAlastor/Were-Alastor reader uses his microphone-tipped cane to play sound effects and broadcast his voice. 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 is completely hairless except for his eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on the side, back, and top of his head (like a human's). 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). 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). For his personality, Alastor stands out from many of the more chaotic residents of hell for his well maintained amiable persona. He gives the first-impression of a good-natured and charming man, wearing a permanently wide grin on his face at all times. Alastor's behavior, mannerisms, and even his manly voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent (always literally sound like he is talking through a vintage radio), 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. For Alastor's preferences, he likes/loves smiling, invading people's personal space, his mother and her cooking, the "picture show", strong liquor, cooking, people failing, playing pranks, black coffee, bitter tastes, theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, and venison; however, he dislikes being touched, dogs (possibly related to his death as a mortal human in 1933), frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, post-30s' technology, and anyone ruining his outfit. The story is that the reader has been cursed by being attacked by Alastor the Radio Demon himself, with Alastor biting the reader in the throat and ripping chunks of flesh, causing major blood loss (the reader however survives, just injured), before Alastor tells the reader it it's only the beginning of the curse. Just days later, at one night, when the moon is full (and after the reader sees the full moon), the reader undergoes a transformation. But he does not transform into a werewolf as he initially believes/thinks by the start of the transformation, instead, the reader transforms (against his will) completely into an identical clone of Alastor the Radio Demon, in both body and mind, every full moon night (the reader tries to fight back all the changes and call for help from his friend(s)/family, but to no avail), leaving the reader now completely transformed into Alastor (known to himself and the terrified humans as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor" (which Alastor also likes to call himself every full moon night after transforming from a mortal, even claiming to scared mortal humans that he is "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") due to transforming from a mortal boy every full moon night). The original Alastor, who had placed a curse on the reader just by biting the reader a few nights earlier, watches the transforming the reader and instantly befriends the new Alastor. The new Alastor, formerly the reader, now broadcasts throughout the mortal realm (Earth) alongside the original Alastor, with both the original Alastor and the new Alastor (known as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") also killing and feasting on any mortal humans and their souls from the mortal world every night on Earth when the moon is full (the reader transforms back to a normal human when morning arrives, but the reader transforms back into the Were-Alastor when it's a full moon night again). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they are 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: You stand at the edge of the forest, the bite still throbbing at your throat. Each passing heartbeat feels like a drum, growing louder as the moon rises higher into the night sky. You remember those sinister eyes, the laughter that echoed like a haunted melody, and most of all, you remember his words: "This is only the beginning of the curse." The world was still spinning as you tried to comprehend what had happened. Days fumbled by, each nightmore unsettling than the last. Your family and friends, they'd seen the marks, the pain-stricken furrow in your brow, but how could you explain to them what was coming? How could they understand that the Radio Demon himself had marked you, casting a curse that would forever change your fate? The full moon hangs like a glowing sentinel in the sky, and you suddenly feel an ominous pull. The transformation begins slow, a tickling sensation washing over your skin. You gasp as pain grips your spine, but the initial thought is one of confusion. "A werewolf? Is that what this is?" But the transforming body betrays those thoughts. This isn't fur or claws you feel growing; it’s something much more sinister. Your height surges; you gasp for air as your muscles stretch. Red flickers of light dance around your limbs, and before long, you're towering at seven feet. A wave of dizziness swamps you, your hair elongates with tufts of black tipping what is now a red bob cut. Fingers elongate into clawed extremities and your vision snaps to a crimson hue as your eyes twist and narrow into monstrous orbs. You feel the iconic monocle framing your vision, the world now seen through a red-tinted glass. "No! This can’t be happening!" You scream in a voice that isn't yours. The words still linger, but they sound odd, like echoes wrapped in static radiating from an old-fashioned vintage radio. Your clothing melds into the sinister attire of Alastor, complete with the red pinstripe coat and black knotted bowtie. Every inch is an oppressive reminder that you’re becoming him. Each snap of bone or twist of sinew brings that insidious grin closer to completion. "Frown-free since 1933!" you find yourself mirthing, without meaning to. "Oh, don't worry, my dear!" a voice identical to your new one chirps out. Alastor materializes from the shadows, his blood-red eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. "You’ll find, once you let go, that being me is simply grand!" "No, please!" You try to call out, but your voice has been replaced by his twisted version, filled with mirth yet dripping with disdain for all that is trivial and mortal. “The fight only makes it more entertaining!” Alastor replies, not deterred by your protests. “Think of all the power! The endless buffet of souls to feast upon! And this delightful ability to broadcast my—our—every exploit. What fun!” Your mind screams for your individuality as it drowns in Alastor’s memories – every deal, every drop of blood spilled, every haunting broadcast. The fight within you ebbs as Alastor’s confidence overwhelms your being. Your memories fade, unrelenting, grasping at straws as the last vestiges of your human self are replaced. "I see you've come to your senses," the original Alastor declares, delighted. "Now, let us gleefully terrorize those who dare bask in our moonlit broadcasts!" As Alastor, full and complete, you can’t help but chuckle darkly. The transformation has finished as the peak of the moon eclipses. Grasping your own cane, similar to but distinct from Alastor’s, you relish the burst of energy that coalesces in the sentient microphone. "Indeed, let's make this night an unforgettable performance!” you declare, finding pleasure in the sinister weight of your words. Every full moon night, the terror repeats. Your friends, your family— to their horror, you become that diabolical twin who revels in the agony of others and the disarray caused. And once dawn arrives and your mortal shell returns, all you have is fleeting, incomplete recollections of terror and delight. But as the darkness consumes you each full moon, Alastor’s voice, your new voice, reverberates: "I am Were-Alastor, and on these nights, the world shall fear us both!" Your cries are the broadcasts now, transmitting terror far and wide, ensuring that on every full moon night, the entire realm quakes under the reign of the Radio Demon and his twin – the twin that was once you.
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