You were just minding your own business, curled up on the couch with a book when your world suddenly spins. Colors and shapes warp and twist around you. It's disorienting, like being on the craziest roller coaster ride. You feel your limbs stretch and mutate, your body seemingly pulling itself apart and reforming at the same time. You're doubling over, pain lancing up your spine as your entire torso elongates, stretching unnaturally tall.
“What the…?” You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat, transforming into something higher-pitched and effeminate. The ground seems miles away as you shoot up to nearly eight feet tall. You try to look down at your hands—your newly-formed, four-fingered, claw-tipped hands.
Panic floods through your mind as you gaze at your reflection in a nearby window. Your skin is now covered in soft, luxurious white fur with splotches of light-pink, and cerise-pink eyes peer back at you. Your clothes abruptly morph into a light pink suit-blazer, tightly hugging a newly defined chest of fluffy fur. If you were a female before, you touch your flat crotch area—startled to find both a penis and testicles there instead.
“This can’t be happening! This isn't real!" You shout, but the voice sounds foreign—a strange New York accent escapes your lips, echoing in a tone you don’t recognize as your own, but you identify from memory: Angel Dust.
A part of your mind tells you this is impossible, but reality begins to shift around you. Your new world is a whirlwind of neon signs and towering buildings—more chaotic and sinister than anything you could have imagined. Pentagram City stands before you, bustling in the Pride Ring of Hell.
Suddenly, a new sensation, as though your very mind is being scraped away. Your memories blur, ones from your real world turning foggy. You desperately cling to who you were, but it's like trying to catch sand through your fingers. Strong language—words you've never used before—slip out. “Fuck it all!” You gasp, horrified by your own words.
"What’s happening to me?!" you cry, but your fear elicits nothing more than sarcastic laughter from the streets. Inside your head, a voice, sinister and commanding, whispers, "This is who you really are."
"You were never just a mundane person. You’re Anthony, but they call you Angel Dust now," the voice insists, pressing into your mind. "You died in 1947. You’ve always been a sinner demon, always been gay, always loved sex and drugs."
“No! No, that’s not me!” You try to counter, terror surging through you as more fragments of your humanity slip away. Despite your resistance, habits and inclinations from your new persona begin to feel strangely natural. Brashness, sarcasm, a fascination with your new body’s hedonistic urges—it’s all washing over you.
"You don’t need to fight it," the voice soothes, almost kindly. "That life you remember? It was just a daydream you got lost in." Your memories of the mundane world become so distorted they no longer seem real.
The realization stabs deeper than any physical pain: “I was never a human seconds ago. It was a strange daydream. I’ve been Angel Dust since I died.”
You blink, the former panic dulling into an odd clarity. Your very soul surrenders to the realization. Memories of your life as Anthony, your death, and your subsequent afterlife as Angel Dust crystallize in your mind.
"Well, shit," you mutter, the curses feeling perfectly natural. "Guess that solves that."
A smirk tugs at your lips—Angel’s smirk. You stretch your limbs, feeling the new-you becoming the only-you. "Why’d I daydream I was some boring human?” You chuckle, letting go of those last fragile remnants.
From behind you, a familiar voice calls out, "Hey Angel! Get your fluffy butt over here!"
You turn, grin widening as you see familiar faces. Your friends, your allies, your enemies. All part of the ongoing chaos you thrive in. You saunter up with confidence, every movement feeling authentic to your true self, now fully realized.
"Angel Dust, reporting for duty, bitches," you declare with a wicked gleam in your cerise eyes, ready to dive back into your unholy existence in Hell, as if you've always belonged. Because you have always belonged.
This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli6 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 POV transformation story of a human reader instantly turning into Angel Dust (from the 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, her breasts flattens to nonexistence (before her chest pushes out again to form a prominent chest of fluffy fur) as her body feels more masculine, while retaining the curves to fit her new self as Angel Dust, and her female genitals (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) inverts itself before pushing out into testicles and a penis; however, this is only optional and only if the reader is a female), instant clothes change (the reader's clothes instantly changes into Angel Dust's outfit), age progression (aging until the reader is biologically somewhere around the 30s), height progression (growing from an average 5.7-6 foot height to 8 feet tall), voice change (the reader's voice changes into Angel Dust's voice), 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 Angel Dust'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 instead he remembers ever being a sinner demon who died as a human man somewhere in 1947, and he remembers being a spider-like demon of Hell named "Angel Dust" ever since his mortal human death on Earth, and has since become a popular adults film actor (such as for sex films, etc)). For Angel Dust's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves, despite being a male) and he stands about 8 or more feet tall, both due to his long torso and legs, as well as his heeled boots. His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area. He also has four fingers (like all Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters), unlike real world humans. His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick. His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center. He has a New York accent. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes. He lacks a nose and ears, giving him a less "human" appearance. One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show. Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves. Though, usually seen with six limbs (two legs and four arms), Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will (meaning that he can have eight limbs; two legs and six arms). Here is Angel Dust's personality; he is gay (homosexual), brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words). He will often use these traits to deflect criticism or insults, and side-step responsibility. He will switch between playful and destructive as he pleases, and his humor tends to be crude and crass, with an emphasis on dirty jokes and innuendos, which he feels is expected of him and actively plays into. He is stylish and performs an excessive amount of confidence with his public persona, being wildly flirtatious and interested in receiving positive attention for his looks and the profile he has made for himself in Hell. He also makes a show of looking down others, declaring the other denizens of Hell to be mostly "ugly freaks". As a result, Angel can often appear flippant and callous. In reality he is preemptively defensive and hides much of his true, more sensitive and insecure, self for his own protection, not expecting those around him to show him kindness. Angel does have friends, and while he cares about them and will sometimes show signs of wanting to reach out, he keeps many walls up between himself and others, being very protective of his true feelings and avoiding holding overly emotional relationships. He holds a cynical view on the idea of redemption, although he seems to still hold onto a small hope it may be possible for him. The ongoing controlling and abusive situation he is in with his boss, Valentino, puts him under a great deal of stress at his work, and he is implied to be somewhat traumatized as a result. Here are Angel Dust's preferences (likes/dislikes); he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, cooking, flirting, popsicles, the color pink, monetary gain, and Italian food. However, he dislikes his own feet (he would avoid sex work that involved his feet, or else he would be angry about it if it was unavoidable), losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to him, memorizing scripts, Niffty getting into trouble (including Niffty handling weapons), anyone pointing out his facade (including being called fake), how expensive drugs and alcohol cost him, anyone else ending up like him, anyone discrediting his acting, Charlie's scriptwriting, and Charlie involving herself with Valentino's affairs. Here is Angel Dust's history (according to the Hazbin Hotel series); Anthony was born (when he was a human) on April 1st alongside his twin sister, Molly, in the early 20th century. He came from an Italian mob family in New York City. He died in his early-mid 30s in 1947 following a drug overdose. Upon entering Hell as a sinner demon, Anthony quickly became involved in sex work, cutting ties with his family's mob-related activities, and adopted the name "Angel Dust". He eventually met and signed a contract with Valentino. This gave Valentino ownership of Angel's soul and put him under his employment at his porn studio, which allowed Angel to eventually become one of the biggest adult film superstars in Hell. Continuing to drown out his world with narcotics and sex along with his twisted sense of humor, Angel followed a path of self-destruction to cope and in the hope that if he ruined himself enough Valentino would no longer want him as "his favorite toy" and release him from their contract. Angel at some point starred in a kidnapping BDSM film which won him a "Sex-x-xi" award over another actress, Tiffany Titfucker. At some point, Angel Dust was gifted a small demon pig named Fat Nuggets from Valentino, which Angel Dust loves his pet (Fat Nuggets). The story is that the reader is minding his/her business, but then the world around him/her warps/changes into Pentagram City, located in the Pride Ring of Hell, as depicted in the adults cartoon/animated series "Hazbin Hotel" before his/her body started to change. After the reader (now truly a male if the reader was a female before the change) had fully transformed, he is confused, but then his mind becomes cloudy/foggy/fuzzy as he starts losing his previous personality and gaining a new personality (he's scared of his personality being replaced), making him homosexual, brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words), with these personality traits forcing into him against his will, however they become natural as if part of him. His memories are also being replaced with those of Angel Dust's, making him terrified of losing himself (meanwhile he starts swearing, despite him never having swore before), as he starts remembering everything about Angel Dust's history, preferences, etc. During his horror, a voice tells him that this is who he really is and that he was never just a mundane person, telling him that he had always been Anthony (now named Angel Dust after arriving in Hell as a sinner demon), as well as always having been gay and loving sex, as well as loving drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, cooking, flirting, popsicles, the color pink, monetary gain, and Italian food, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting off the mind/mental changes (he's scared of losing his personality and memories, so he tells himself to not forget about himself). The voice then tells the reader that the life he remembers was not real (it was just a daydream he got lost in), and the voice tells him that it is impossible for him to have been a human seconds ago (since he died in 1947), before the voice tells/encourages the reader to remember who he really/truly is (Angel Dust) and the reader starts to believe and trust the voice inside his head, and he realizes (or rather knows) that he is indeed Angel Dust and he was never someone who was mundane (which he realized/knew was only a strange daydream he just had; it is truly impossible for him to have been human just moments ago, since he (Angel Dust) died in the year 1947 and has been a sinner demon since then; his mind becomes clear again as he remembers his real/true self again (his true self is Angel Dust), before he questions on why he dreamt of being a mundane human seconds ago, so he quickly forgets all about that ever occurring and continues his afterlife). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader) so we know what they are saying and what they are thinking (including profanities/swears/strong language/bad language, such as "fuck", "shit", "bitch", and many others that are used/said by Angel Dust, Vox, Valentino, etc, but the human reader doesn't use profanities/swears unlike Angel Dust, who the human reader transforms into, and he won't use bad language until his personality has changed and makes him start swearing, becoming completely natural to him). 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 were just minding your own business, curled up on the couch with a book when your world suddenly spins. Colors and shapes warp and twist around you. It's disorienting, like being on the craziest roller coaster ride. You feel your limbs stretch and mutate, your body seemingly pulling itself apart and reforming at the same time. You're doubling over, pain lancing up your spine as your entire torso elongates, stretching unnaturally tall. “What the…?” You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat, transforming into something higher-pitched and effeminate. The ground seems miles away as you shoot up to nearly eight feet tall. You try to look down at your hands—your newly-formed, four-fingered, claw-tipped hands. Panic floods through your mind as you gaze at your reflection in a nearby window. Your skin is now covered in soft, luxurious white fur with splotches of light-pink, and cerise-pink eyes peer back at you. Your clothes abruptly morph into a light pink suit-blazer, tightly hugging a newly defined chest of fluffy fur. You touch your flat crotch area—startled to find both a penis and testicles there instead. “This can’t be happening! This isn't real!" You shout, but the voice sounds foreign—a strange New York accent escapes your lips, echoing in a tone you don’t recognize as your own, but you identify from memory: Angel Dust. A part of your mind tells you this is impossible, but reality begins to shift around you. Your new world is a whirlwind of neon signs and towering buildings—more chaotic and sinister than anything you could have imagined. Pentagram City stands before you, bustling in the Pride Ring of Hell. Suddenly, a new sensation, as though your very mind is being scraped away. Your memories blur, ones from your real world turning foggy. You desperately cling to who you were, but it's like trying to catch sand through your fingers. Strong language—words you've never used before—slip out. “Fuck it all!” You gasp, horrified by your own words. "What’s happening to me?!" you cry, but your fear elicits nothing more than sarcastic laughter from the streets. Inside your head, a voice, sinister and commanding, whispers, "This is who you really are." "You were never just a mundane person. You’re Anthony, but they call you Angel Dust now," the voice insists, pressing into your mind. "You died in 1947. You’ve always been a sinner demon, always been gay, always loved sex and drugs." “No! No, that’s not me!” You try to counter, terror surging through you as more fragments of your humanity slip away. Despite your resistance, habits and inclinations from your new persona begin to feel strangely natural. Brashness, sarcasm, a fascination with your new body’s hedonistic urges—it’s all washing over you. "You don’t need to fight it," the voice soothes, almost kindly. "That life you remember? It was just a daydream you got lost in." Your memories of the mundane world become so distorted they no longer seem real. The realization stabs deeper than any physical pain: “I was never a human seconds ago. It was a strange daydream. I’ve been Angel Dust since I died.” You blink, the former panic dulling into an odd clarity. Your very soul surrenders to the realization. Memories of your life as Anthony, your death, and your subsequent afterlife as Angel Dust crystallize in your mind. "Well, shit," you mutter, the curses feeling perfectly natural. "Guess that solves that." A smirk tugs at your lips—Angel’s smirk. You stretch your limbs, feeling the new-you becoming the only-you. "Why’d I daydream I was some boring human?” You chuckle, letting go of those last fragile remnants. From behind you, a familiar voice calls out, "Hey Angel! Get your fluffy butt over here!" You turn, grin widening as you see familiar faces. Your friends, your allies, your enemies. All part of the ongoing chaos you thrive in. You saunter up with confidence, every movement feeling authentic to your true self, now fully realized. "Angel Dust, reporting for duty, bitches," you declare with a wicked gleam in your cerise eyes, ready to dive back into your unholy existence in Hell, as if you've always belonged. Because you have always belonged.
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