"Dual Terror: The Radio Demons - Alastor Unleashed"
1 Points
The first time the transformation occurred, you had been struggling to get out of bed after suffering from weeks of relentless nightmares. Knowing well that the full moon hung heavy and luminous in the sky that night, little did you suspect that your reality was about to become a waking nightmare.
He's coming.
The whisper barely registered until your throat began to burn where Alastor’s bite had marred your skin. You felt it deepen as the moonlight streamed through the window, piece by piece unraveling your essence. Your breath quickened, each exhale accompanied by the static of an old radio tuning stations. As your body began to change, snapping and stretching itself, you tried to call out for help, but the voice that escaped your mouth wasn’t your own.
"Ah, now isn't this a fun twist? Very entertaining!" Your new voice, warm yet dissonant and crackling, flowed from your lips of its own volition.
Your bones contorted, your flesh warped, and your screams strung together in a symphony intermingled with disturbing laughter. Your hands, which once bore the tender lines of mortal life, now stretched out into elegant talons. Mirrors shattered as your height exceeded seven feet, eyes scorching with a red glow framed by pitch black sclerae.
"You won't get away with this!" you fought to maintain your identity, but Alastor’s personality - your new personality - battered against the walls of your sanity, each throb of your altered heart beating out recollections of a life that belonged to a nameless human.
But deep down, you felt it slipping away, replaced with fragments of New Orleans summers and radio slots from times past. The texture of the suit that bore the colors of your old life clung taut against reimagined skin tight as facades. When the change completed, you moaned helplessly, but the sound that exited wasn’t yours.
"Hello, folks! It's the Were-Alastor show, and I’m here to bring you a night you'll never forget!" you cackled with a broad, unsettling smile.
Ridiculously powerful, brimming with demonic magic, the cursed cycle tore your humanity asunder. How long had you dreamt of ordinary things? It no longer mattered. Thoughts of venison, bitter coffee, and your mother's Jambalaya filled your mind.
As if on cue, a rift tore open the very fabric of the room, and there was Alastor, original and unchanged, awaiting the manifestation of your cursed existence. "Ah, my dear doppelgänger! Ready for another unforgettable broadcast?"
"Absolutely, dear Alastor!" you - or whatever you had become - grinned fiendishly. The duality of your presence was now cemented, your shadow dancing and contorting with newfound vigor.
Broadcasting throughout the mortal realm, your voices melded into a harmonious cacophony that stirred fear in every soul. The terror of mortal humans fed your power, making the night an orchestra of chaos. Each full moon heralded a night of unmatched atrocity, and each dawn returned you to a frail echo of your former self - helpless till the cycle recommenced under Luna’s watchful eye.
"I jest thou, a mere mortal no more, for on this night, the Radio Demon has doubled!" you gleefully announced to the world.
Your existence tethered to the infernal cycles of the full moon, each transformation was a reckoning. A horrid reminder that the bite from Alastor wasn't merely to maim but to condemn you to an eternity tied inextricably to Hell's very own broadcaster of despair.
But yet, night after night, another part of you ceased to see it as a curse and reveled in the chaotic harmony that was the existence of WereAlastor. As each cycle passed, the fight inside of you dwindled, sprawled out by the verses of Alastor’s existence so relentless that the very idea of your former life flaked like ash blown into oblivion on a foreboding gale.
Each tone from your microphone-tipped cane resonated with the hopeless cadence of the lost but powerful cry of reborn demonic power. What hope could the mortal realm hold against the symphony of the Radio Demons?
"Fear not, folks! Our night is just beginning," Alastor proclaimed through you, both shadows intertwined in joyous havoc. Indeed, the world learned to dread the heralding full moon, knowing well that on such nights, the realms of the living momentarily knelt before the dual terror of the Radio Demons - Alastor and the irreversible nightmare you had become.
This story was generated by user JesterImp 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 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; however, the only difference is the coloration of his outfit, hair, and iris colors (although the sclerae of each of his eyes are literally pitch black in color), which his hair and clothee matches the colors of his previous hair and outfit colors, although they have Alastor's exact color patterns. 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: The first time the transformation occurred, you had been struggling to get out of bed after suffering from weeks of relentless nightmares. Knowing well that the full moon hung heavy and luminous in the sky that night, little did you suspect that your reality was about to become a waking nightmare. He's coming. The whisper barely registered until your throat began to burn where Alastor’s bite had marred your skin. You felt it deepen as the moonlight streamed through the window, piece by piece unraveling your essence. Your breath quickened, each exhale accompanied by the static of an old radio tuning stations. As your body began to change, snapping and stretching itself, you tried to call out for help, but the voice that escaped your mouth wasn’t your own. "Ah, now isn't this a fun twist? Very entertaining!" Your new voice, warm yet dissonant and crackling, flowed from your lips of its own volition. Your bones contorted, your flesh warped, and your screams strung together in a symphony intermingled with disturbing laughter. Your hands, which once bore the tender lines of mortal life, now stretched out into elegant talons. Mirrors shattered as your height exceeded seven feet, eyes scorching with a red glow framed by pitch black sclerae. "You won't get away with this!" you fought to maintain your identity, but Alastor’s personality - your new personality - battered against the walls of your sanity, each throb of your altered heart beating out recollections of a life that belonged to a nameless human. But deep down, you felt it slipping away, replaced with fragments of New Orleans summers and radio slots from times past. The texture of the suit that bore the colors of your old life clung taut against reimagined skin tight as facades. When the change completed, you moaned helplessly, but the sound that exited wasn’t yours. "Hello, folks! It's the Were-Alastor show, and I’m here to bring you a night you'll never forget!" you cackled with a broad, unsettling smile. Ridiculously powerful, brimming with demonic magic, the cursed cycle tore your humanity asunder. How long had you dreamt of ordinary things? It no longer mattered. Thoughts of venison, bitter coffee, and your mother's Jambalaya filled your mind. As if on cue, a rift tore open the very fabric of the room, and there was Alastor, original and unchanged, awaiting the manifestation of your cursed existence. "Ah, my dear doppelgänger! Ready for another unforgettable broadcast?" "Absolutely, dear Alastor!" you - or whatever you had become - grinned fiendishly. The duality of your presence was now cemented, your shadow dancing and contorting with newfound vigor. Broadcasting throughout the mortal realm, your voices melded into a harmonious cacophony that stirred fear in every soul. The terror of mortal humans fed your power, making the night an orchestra of chaos. Each full moon heralded a night of unmatched atrocity, and each dawn returned you to a frail echo of your former self - helpless till the cycle recommenced under Luna’s watchful eye. "I jest thou, a mere mortal no more, for on this night, the Radio Demon has doubled!" you gleefully announced to the world. Your existence tethered to the infernal cycles of the full moon, each transformation was a reckoning. A horrid reminder that the bite from Alastor wasn't merely to maim but to condemn you to an eternity tied inextricably to Hell's very own broadcaster of despair. But yet, night after night, another part of you ceased to see it as a curse and reveled in the chaotic harmony that was the existence of WereAlastor. As each cycle passed, the fight inside of you dwindled, sprawled out by the verses of Alastor’s existence so relentless that the very idea of your former life flaked like ash blown into oblivion on a foreboding gale. Each tone from your microphone-tipped cane resonated with the hopeless cadence of the lost but powerful cry of reborn demonic power. What hope could the mortal realm hold against the symphony of the Radio Demons? "Fear not, folks! Our night is just beginning," Alastor proclaimed through you, both shadows intertwined in joyous havoc. Indeed, the world learned to dread the heralding full moon, knowing well that on such nights, the realms of the living momentarily knelt before the dual terror of the Radio Demons - Alastor and the irreversible nightmare you had become.
Post your own comment: