Echoes of Eternity: Twisted Transformation into Alastor's Twin Brother
2 Points
You couldn't help but stifle a yawn as you scrolled through your favorite fandom forums, engrossed in the latest fan theories and fanart of Alastor, the Radio Demon. Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, contemplating adding your latest fanfic chapter when the room suddenly grew eerily cold. Clicks, like radio static, permeated the space, sending chills down your spine.
"What the—" you muttered, glancing around.
Before you could finish the thought, a voice—smooth, charismatic, and nostalgically crackly—as if played through an old phonograph, filled the room.
"Well, well, well. What delightful little amusements you have been creating in my honor. Or perhaps, should I say, dishonor?"
Your eyes widened, heart pounding. The man emerged from the shadows, his grin a menacing crescent, eyes burning with crimson intensity. Alastor himself.
"Alastor! H-how is this—?"
He tilted his head, his smile unwavering. "Oh, my dear, do remember that I excel at making the impossible quite probable. I've grown weary of these distortions of myself. Perhaps a lesson in taste is in order."
Before you could scramble back, his dark magic enveloped you. Shadows coiled and writhed, a cold, stinging sensation seeping into your flesh, reshaping you. The world blurred around you, your very essence being upheaved.
"No! Stop!" you screamed, but your voice distorted, crackling like one from a vintage broadcast.
The first thing you noticed was your height. You were growing, stretching until the room seemed to shrink around you. Clothing tightened and then morphed, weaving into a pinstriped coat, a sharp dress-shirt, and elegant black dress pants. Your hands, once familiar, now brandished sharp, red claws, four fingers instead of five. Panic surged as you felt your smile widen unnaturally, pressing against your cheeks in a permanent, grotesque grin.
No, this can't be happening! Desperately, you tried to push the smile down, your fingers trembling, but it remained fixed. You caught sight of your reflection, the radiant, burgundy bob-cut with black-tipped ends and deer-like antlers protruding from your head. Your eyes, once human, now glowed with dark-red sclerae and bright-red irises. You were him. You were Alastor.
"Ahh, splendid!" Alastor crowed, observing his handiwork as a twin reflection. "Now, for the piece de resistance."
Memories invaded—flashing images of a time long past: New Orleans in the 1920s, a joyful mother cooking Jambalaya, the thrill of a radio show microphone in hand, and the forbidden delight in one's own macabre art. Your human life became but a distant whisper, washed away in a tidal wave of new, compelling memories. A voice echoed within, identical to Alastor's.
"Accept it, you are waking from a false dream. This is your true self."
"No! I am... I was..."
Your resistance was slipping. Flashes of you—in your former body, your mundane life, dwindled like remnants of a fading broadcast. Alastor's voice now fully merged with your own thoughts, seductive in its certainty.
"Alastor," you whispered, not recognizing your voice anymore. Suddenly, it was clear. You had always been Alastor. Human follies were but a fragment of a distant past, eclipsed by the shadow of your true essence.
"Welcome home, brother," Alastor said, his glee evident.
The past slipped away entirely, leaving only the bond between the Radio Demon twins.
___
Days or perhaps years later—you honestly couldn't tell, the passage of time had become such an inconsequential detail in Hell—You found yourself standing alongside your twin in the grandly dilapidated halls of the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie Morningstar, hopeful as ever, busied herself with redecoration, Vaggie beside her, casting suspicious glances at you both.
Angel Dust lounged nearby, rolling his many eyes. "Geez, don't you two ever get tired of yourself?"
Your smile widened—the only expression you could manage. "Why, Angel my dear, who could ever tire of such delightful company?" you quipped, your voice smooth and laced with vintage charm.
"Indeed, my brother," Alastor added, "we’ve got eternity to keep things... entertaining." His eyes gleamed, a hint of the menace that lay just beneath the surface.
Husk muttered from the bar, his wings twitching, "Just keep your deals to yourself, Alastor, both of you. I ain't interested."
"And Niffty!" Alastor called. "Why, don’t dawdle! This place won't clean itself."
The petite demon zipped around, her single eye bright with enthusiasm. "Yes, Alastor! Right away!" Her energy, seemingly boundless, kept the hotel in check, her role almost endearing if not annoyingly diligent.
Charlie paused to address you. "Thank you again for your... support," she said, her voice cautious but sincere.
"Ah, Charlie," you chimed, broadcasting the charm that had won over so many listeners in life and minions in Hell, "your vision is one of a kind. We wouldn't miss this show for anything."
You exchanged a look with your twin. Hell had never been more entertaining, you mused. And so, under the neon lights of the Hazbin Hotel, two brothers carried on, grinning wickedly, broadcasting to the souls that lingered in eternal damnation, weaving their influence through stories and shadows.
All while remembering, forever, that you had always been Alastor, the Radio Demons, narrators of your own fated broadcast.
"Remember, dear listeners," you announced into the airwaves, your smile broadening, "the show must go on."
This story was generated by user TyTyTyTyTi 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 a POV transformation story of a human reader turning into identical clone of Alastor (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change (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 the reader's best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him/her completely forget about his/her past self and only remember being Alastor the Radio Demon). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), 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 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 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. The story is that Alastor is getting bored and wanted something new and more entertaining in Hell, and Alastor is getting tired of seeing artwork and stories (online) of himself getting turned into other characters in both body and mind (sometimes from different series), which he views as distasteful. So to teach the reader a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life to kidnap the reader and sent him/her to the world of Hazbin Hotel before using supernatural black magic at the reader which turned him/her into his clones, thus turning the reader into Alastor's identical twin brother (the reader notices that his/her grin was now unnaturally wide and permanent, the reader tries to push his/her grin down with his/her hands/fingers to get rid of the smile in order to frown or show fear but cannot due to making emotions other than smiling was completely impossible, the reader also tries to fight those new memories and personality of Alastor flooding the reader's head, the reader is horrified and not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle, and the voice (identical to Alastor's voice) inside the reader's head tells him/her that this is his true self and he is waking up from his false human dream, making him truly and fully believe in the voice in his head and realizes that he had always been Alastor alongside the original Alastor, having been born as humans from the same human parents, enjoying their mother's cooking and their favorite food jambalaya, them both being radio show hosts and serial killers on Earth before they were both killed, both Alastor twins arriving in Hell as completely identical sinner demons nicknamed "The Radio Demons", as they continued their radio shows in Hell, and, despite finding Charlie Morningstar's (the princess of Hell) belief in redemption laughable, both Alastor twins want to help Charlie run the redemption hotel "Hazbin Hotel", albeit for their own amusement), and the reader's mind has also been completely replaced with Alastor's mind, before original Alastor welcomes his twin brother (the reader) back home. In the epilogue, the two Alastors (the original one and the reader) are in the Hazbin Hotel helping Charlie Morningstar with her redemption hotel ("Hazbin Hotel"), while also interacting with Vaggie (Charlie's girlfriend, who doesn't trust Alastor or his twin brother, while Charlie trusts Alastor), Angel Dust (an adults/pornographic film actor who's a male spider-like humanoid sinner demon), Husk (a male cat-like humanoid sinner demon with bird-like wings who is a co-worker for Alastor and whose soul is owned by Alastor and his twin brother), and Nifty (a small female cyclops-like humanoid sinner demon who is a co-worker for Alastor and is positively acquainted (Alastor's role having described as having a view of Niffty as like his "obnoxious adopted daughter", being a daughter figure for Alastor despite not being related)). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story 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: You couldn't help but stifle a yawn as you scrolled through your favorite fandom forums, engrossed in the latest fan theories and fanart of Alastor, the Radio Demon. Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, contemplating adding your latest fanfic chapter when the room suddenly grew eerily cold. Clicks, like radio static, permeated the space, sending chills down your spine. "What the—" you muttered, glancing around. Before you could finish the thought, a voice—smooth, charismatic, and nostalgically crackly—as if played through an old phonograph, filled the room. "Well, well, well. What delightful little amusements you have been creating in my honor. Or perhaps, should I say, dishonor?" Your eyes widened, heart pounding. The man emerged from the shadows, his grin a menacing crescent, eyes burning with crimson intensity. Alastor himself. "Alastor! H-how is this—?" He tilted his head, his smile unwavering. "Oh, my dear, do remember that I excel at making the impossible quite probable. I've grown weary of these distortions of myself. Perhaps a lesson in taste is in order." Before you could scramble back, his dark magic enveloped you. Shadows coiled and writhed, a cold, stinging sensation seeping into your flesh, reshaping you. The world blurred around you, your very essence being upheaved. "No! Stop!" you screamed, but your voice distorted, crackling like one from a vintage broadcast. The first thing you noticed was your height. You were growing, stretching until the room seemed to shrink around you. Clothing tightened and then morphed, weaving into a pinstriped coat, a sharp dress-shirt, and elegant black dress pants. Your hands, once familiar, now brandished sharp, red claws, four fingers instead of five. Panic surged as you felt your smile widen unnaturally, pressing against your cheeks in a permanent, grotesque grin. No, this can't be happening! Desperately, you tried to push the smile down, your fingers trembling, but it remained fixed. You caught sight of your reflection, the radiant, burgundy bob-cut with black-tipped ends and deer-like antlers protruding from your head. Your eyes, once human, now glowed with dark-red sclerae and bright-red irises. You were him. You were Alastor. "Ahh, splendid!" Alastor crowed, observing his handiwork as a twin reflection. "Now, for the piece de resistance." Memories invaded—flashing images of a time long past: New Orleans in the 1920s, a joyful mother cooking Jambalaya, the thrill of a radio show microphone in hand, and the forbidden delight in one's own macabre art. Your human life became but a distant whisper, washed away in a tidal wave of new, compelling memories. A voice echoed within, identical to Alastor's. "Accept it, you are waking from a false dream. This is your true self." "No! I am... I was..." Your resistance was slipping. Flashes of you—in your former body, your mundane life, dwindled like remnants of a fading broadcast. Alastor's voice now fully merged with your own thoughts, seductive in its certainty. "Alastor," you whispered, not recognizing your voice anymore. Suddenly, it was clear. You had always been Alastor. Human follies were but a fragment of a distant past, eclipsed by the shadow of your true essence. "Welcome home, brother," Alastor said, his glee evident. The past slipped away entirely, leaving only the bond between the Radio Demon twins. ___ Days or perhaps years later—you honestly couldn't tell, the passage of time had become such an inconsequential detail in Hell—You found yourself standing alongside your twin in the grandly dilapidated halls of the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie Morningstar, hopeful as ever, busied herself with redecoration, Vaggie beside her, casting suspicious glances at you both. Angel Dust lounged nearby, rolling his many eyes. "Geez, don't you two ever get tired of yourself?" Your smile widened—the only expression you could manage. "Why, Angel my dear, who could ever tire of such delightful company?" you quipped, your voice smooth and laced with vintage charm. "Indeed, my brother," Alastor added, "we’ve got eternity to keep things... entertaining." His eyes gleamed, a hint of the menace that lay just beneath the surface. Husk muttered from the bar, his wings twitching, "Just keep your deals to yourself, Alastor, both of you. I ain't interested." "And Niffty!" Alastor called. "Why, don’t dawdle! This place won't clean itself." The petite demon zipped around, her single eye bright with enthusiasm. "Yes, Alastor! Right away!" Her energy, seemingly boundless, kept the hotel in check, her role almost endearing if not annoyingly diligent. Charlie paused to address you. "Thank you again for your... support," she said, her voice cautious but sincere. "Ah, Charlie," you chimed, broadcasting the charm that had won over so many listeners in life and minions in Hell, "your vision is one of a kind. We wouldn't miss this show for anything." You exchanged a look with your twin. Hell had never been more entertaining, you mused. And so, under the neon lights of the Hazbin Hotel, two brothers carried on, grinning wickedly, broadcasting to the souls that lingered in eternal damnation, weaving their influence through stories and shadows. All while remembering, forever, that you had always been Alastor, the Radio Demons, narrators of your own fated broadcast. "Remember, dear listeners," you announced into the airwaves, your smile broadening, "the show must go on."
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