The Internet

Log In or Register

Write (with AI)

"Eclipsed by Crimson: A Hellish Transformation"

Bookmark
1 Points

When you regained consciousness, a blinding headache surged through your mind. The first thing you noticed was the deep red ambient glow filtering through red and black curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim, eerie light. The room around you seemed daunting and unfamiliar—a lavish dressing room brimming with expensive suits and extravagant trimmings. And then it hit you: something was horribly wrong.

"Where... where am I?" Your voice trembled, the words feeling foreign as they escaped your lips. You raised your hands to your face, only to be greeted with the sight of short, clawed fingers where once there were human hands. The panic began to set in as you bolted upright, stumbling over to a full-length mirror. Staring back at you was a tall imp, clad in a red high-collar shirt, navy blue coat, dark blue pants, and black dress shoes. The fedora atop your head felt heavy, its presence only enhancing the sense of alienation.

"No, this can't be real," you muttered. You desperately clawed at your reflection, hoping to rip away the surreal nightmare you found yourself trapped in. But the dark red skin, the white hair with black stripes, the yellow eyes staring back—they all belonged to you now. You were Crimson.

As you staggered back from the mirror, a whirlwind of memories assaulted your mind. A childhood in a human world, a life that seemed increasingly distant. You clung to those memories, feeling them slip through your mental fingers as if they were grains of sand.

"Remember... remember who you were." You clenched your head in both hands, fighting against the onset of new, intruding thoughts.

Visions of dark dealings, shady acolytes, and a life steeped in organized crime surged forth, washing over your former identity. The taste of smoke and the smell of gunpowder became as familiar as the air you breathed. Laughter echoed in your mind, not your own, but Crimson's.

"Got to hold on... have to remember," you whispered in desperation.

But the memories of this mafia lord’s life continued to flood your consciousness relentlessly—his brutal treatment of his son Moxxie, the countless shady deals, and the treachery coursing through his daily existence. The mental fight was draining you, as if the Crimson persona was a riptide pulling you ever deeper into his abyssal identity.

You began to feel a morbid sense of familiarity and, worse, comfort. Your previous life began to blur, faces and names dissolving into oblivion. Laughter morphed to your own, a deep, vicious guffaw. The desire to protect and nurture, to feel compassion and love—everything good was being overwritten by Crimson’s remorseless ambition and hatred.

"Who... who am I?" You faltered, the question coming out almost as an afterthought.

"I'm Crimson," you finally said, the words feeling natural—too natural.

A bizarrre, uneasy calm washed over you. The memory of being a human seemed like a distant, fading dream, unimportant and absurd. Standing tall at 5.3 feet, surveying the room filled with your elegant wardrobe, you felt at home.

"Just a dream," you muttered with a satisfied smirk, catching sight of the golden fang amidst your sharp teeth. "Of course. This is my reality."

The past perceptions of love and sentimentality were replaced with a ruthless hunger for power and wealth. It felt right, it felt good. You belonged here—in the Greed Ring of Hell, where only the strong and cunning survived.

"Crimson," you mused aloud, relishing the name, letting your cruel persona fully take root. "Time for another day at the office."

A cold shiver ran down your spine, but it was one born of thrill, not fear. The echoes of your former life were now completely silenced, replaced by the cutthroat reality of Crimson's existence.

It was permanent. It was irreversible.

And so, with a predatory smile tugging at your lips, you strode out of the dressing room to reclaim your throne in Hell’s ruthless underworld, forever changed, forever Crimson.

This story was generated by user HelluvaJester 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 Crimson (from an adults cartoon/animated series "Helluva Boss", made by Vivienne "VivziePop" Medrano), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change (the reader's clothes instantly turning into Crimson's outfit), age change, height regression (changing from the reader's previous 5.7-6 foot height to 5.3 feet tall), reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Helluva Boss), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Crimson's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting these mental changes, making the reader permanently and completely forget about his past self as a normal human, he now only remembers being an imp and a mafia leader named Crimson). The transformation into Crimson is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. For Crimson's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a quite tall imp demon, standing closer in height to Blitzo (about 5.3 feet tall, rather than being 3.9 feet tall unlike his son Moxxie), with white hair, black and white striped horns, and yellow sclera. Around his eyes are white markings, with the right being larger than the left. He possesses a crooked and bent tail with white accents near the base and on the middle of his tail fork. His appearance is similar to his son Moxxie, with similar hair and shape of his horns, however larger and slightly more jagged. Unlike his son (Moxxie), Crimson's skin is a darker shade of red and his legs appear to be plantigrade (just like a human's legs, including the reader's legs), rather than digitigrade, but still have red cloven hooves (unlike human feet). He also has short-clawed fingers on his hands. Like all imps, he has a short reptilian-looking muzzle with sharp teeth in it, and he lacks any visible ears or nostrils. All of Crimson's teeth are sharp fangs, while one of his fangs is a golden fang unlike the other teeth (which are white). Crimson's attire consists of a red high-collar shirt that grips his neck, topped by a navy blue coat with light blue accents, thin red stripes, red buttons, and red lining. His pants are dark blue which also have thin red stripes, and his shoes are black and red-heeled dress shoes. He also wears a black fedora with a red and white band. For Crimson's personality, he is a vicious and extremely ruthless crime boss that controls a large army of shark-like demon gangsters. He is shown to have been horrifically abusive towards Moxxie since his childhood, constantly levying physical and psychological abuse towards Moxxie, and by extension his wife. He cultivates an aura of fear in those that know him, even towards his own family members and close associates like Moxxie and Chazwick. Ultimately, his greed and power come first to him, and he harbors no remorse for his victims. This comes to the point that he appears mentally prepared to kill blood-related family members, such as his wife and Moxxie, to advance his personal goals. Despite this, he is capable of exhibiting a seemingly jovial, warm, happy, and even charismatic presence when he chooses to do so, such as during his initial meeting with Blitzo and Millie, or during moments when he feels comfortable. However, he can be quick to discard this external display of affection as required. Crimson is extremely prejudiced, having demonstrated to be chauvinistic and sexist towards women, as well as homophobic of his son's orientation. He would often refer to Millie as being a dame, broad, beard, and other similarly negative terminologies. He displays a lack of knowledge regarding concepts of sexuality, believing Moxxie's statement of being bisexual to simply mean he is homosexual, with Crimson disregarding his son's bisexuality and claiming he is simply gay and hiding that by marrying a woman, as claimed by his declaration of Millie being merely a "beard" for Moxxie. He furthermore holds bizarre beliefs as to what kind of home décor and wedding decorations/dresses homosexuals enjoy, such as decorating his home with a wide array of dildos in an attempt to placate Moxxie and forcing his son to wear a dress while forcibly attempting to marry him off. Here are Crimson's preferences (likes and dislikes); he likes smoking, monetary gain, organized crime, mistreating Moxxie, and hanging body parts of his victims as house decorations. However, he dislikes Moxxie's compassion and bisexuality, sentimental topics, his son or minions failing him, the state of his mafia, anyone who double-crosses him, anyone lesser than him, and anyone talking back to him. The reader's transformation and the reality's change/shift all takes place before the story. The story starts when the reader, now Crimson, wakes up in a dressing room somewhere, waking up at Crimson's Mansion (located in the Greed Ring of Hell) confused and scared on where was he and who the reader himself was. During his confusion, his memories and personality all begins to warp and completely change, making him dizzy as he hold his head with his arms, hoping that everything that is happening was all just a dream (hoping that he'll wake up back in real life back to normal as a human), and telling him to remember his human life, but to no avail, making him completely forget all about his human self and remembered everything about himself being Crimson, happy to know that his human life and self was only a dream, and knowing that his life as Crimson as well as always living in Hell being reality. 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: When you regained consciousness, a blinding headache surged through your mind. The first thing you noticed was the deep red ambient glow filtering through red and black curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim, eerie light. The room around you seemed daunting and unfamiliar—a lavish dressing room brimming with expensive suits and extravagant trimmings. And then it hit you: something was horribly wrong. "Where... where am I?" Your voice trembled, the words feeling foreign as they escaped your lips. You raised your hands to your face, only to be greeted with the sight of short, clawed fingers where once there were human hands. The panic began to set in as you bolted upright, stumbling over to a full-length mirror. Staring back at you was a tall imp, clad in a red high-collar shirt, navy blue coat, dark blue pants, and black dress shoes. The fedora atop your head felt heavy, its presence only enhancing the sense of alienation. "No, this can't be real," you muttered. You desperately clawed at your reflection, hoping to rip away the surreal nightmare you found yourself trapped in. But the dark red skin, the white hair with black stripes, the yellow eyes staring back—they all belonged to you now. You were Crimson. As you staggered back from the mirror, a whirlwind of memories assaulted your mind. A childhood in a human world, a life that seemed increasingly distant. You clung to those memories, feeling them slip through your mental fingers as if they were grains of sand. "Remember... remember who you were." You clenched your head in both hands, fighting against the onset of new, intruding thoughts. Visions of dark dealings, shady acolytes, and a life steeped in organized crime surged forth, washing over your former identity. The taste of smoke and the smell of gunpowder became as familiar as the air you breathed. Laughter echoed in your mind, not your own, but Crimson's. "Got to hold on... have to remember," you whispered in desperation. But the memories of this mafia lord’s life continued to flood your consciousness relentlessly—his brutal treatment of his son Moxxie, the countless shady deals, and the treachery coursing through his daily existence. The mental fight was draining you, as if the Crimson persona was a riptide pulling you ever deeper into his abyssal identity. You began to feel a morbid sense of familiarity and, worse, comfort. Your previous life began to blur, faces and names dissolving into oblivion. Laughter morphed to your own, a deep, vicious guffaw. The desire to protect and nurture, to feel compassion and love—everything good was being overwritten by Crimson’s remorseless ambition and hatred. "Who... who am I?" You faltered, the question coming out almost as an afterthought. "I'm Crimson," you finally said, the words feeling natural—too natural. A bizarrre, uneasy calm washed over you. The memory of being a human seemed like a distant, fading dream, unimportant and absurd. Standing tall at 5.3 feet, surveying the room filled with your elegant wardrobe, you felt at home. "Just a dream," you muttered with a satisfied smirk, catching sight of the golden fang amidst your sharp teeth. "Of course. This is my reality." The past perceptions of love and sentimentality were replaced with a ruthless hunger for power and wealth. It felt right, it felt good. You belonged here—in the Greed Ring of Hell, where only the strong and cunning survived. "Crimson," you mused aloud, relishing the name, letting your cruel persona fully take root. "Time for another day at the office." A cold shiver ran down your spine, but it was one born of thrill, not fear. The echoes of your former life were now completely silenced, replaced by the cutthroat reality of Crimson's existence. It was permanent. It was irreversible. And so, with a predatory smile tugging at your lips, you strode out of the dressing room to reclaim your throne in Hell’s ruthless underworld, forever changed, forever Crimson.

Comment Section

Post your own comment: