You are walking down the street, minding your own business, when a strange energy ripples through the air. You stop in your tracks, looking around for the cause, but everything around you starts to distort. Your surroundings start to warp, an eerie wave of color bending everything into a twisted, animated version of reality.
Your heart pounds as the sky bleeds into a ominous crimson hue, skyscrapers twisting and reshaping themselves into a hellish cityscape. Walls sprout eyes and menacing spikes, and you realize with a startling recognition—Pentagram City, from the show Hazbin Hotel.
"What's happening to me?!" you shout, though your voice barely registers over the cacophony of the city warping around you.
Before you can process the surrounding transformation, a peculiar tingling sensation spreads across your skin. You glance at your hands and watch in horror as they shrink and shift into a more animated form. Your human fingers elongate and split into four sharp digits, white as snow and tapering to delicate points.
Your body stretches, growing slimmer and taller, passing well beyond what had been your six-foot frame. Your legs and arms extend out, a second and third sets of arms sprout below your first pair, with the third pair hidden until called forward. You try to move, but there's an odd fluidity in your motion now, almost like you're more animated than real.
A searing pressure erupts in your chest. You look down in confusion as your gender starts changing. If you were a female before, your chest flattens, only to then burst out again, forming a prominent chest of fluffy fur that spreads with the texture of silky feathers across your skin. If you were male, the pressure simply builds with intensity. Regardless, your clothing starts to shift and meld into a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down its length, and a reddish-grey miniskirt. Reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots form over your feet. You also get a black bowtie with a pink center, a black choker around your neck, a pair of cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs on your changed arms, and a pair of pure white gloves on your new second pair of arms.
"What the fuck is happening to me?!" you hear yourself scream, though it’s starting to morph into something... different.
A burning sensation spreads through your throat. Your voice drops and distorts, adopting a rougher, yet sensually playful New York accent. “Fuckin' Hell…” you mutter, recognizing the voice immediately. Angel Dust’s voice.
Your head spins as you try to scream, but the sound turns into a sharp, mocking laugh. Instincts and movements that aren’t your own. Memories begin to churn and boil within your mind like a poison, threatening to overthrow everything you are.
You stagger backwards, gaining unfamiliar height. You must be around eight feet tall now. Your mind reels, a fog descending upon you as Angel Dust's memories seep into your consciousness. You remember things you shouldn't, sensations that don’t belong to you. Your entire existence as a human being is being eclipsed by this incoming tide of another identity.
"Remember who you are..." a voice inside your mind tells you, smoky and persuasive. "You've always been Anthony... You were born in the early 20th century…"
"No!" you scream internally, fighting desperately against the encroaching identity. "This isn't me! I'm...I'm not..."
“You died in 1947," the voice continues. "You became Angel Dust, the spider demon of Hell. You’re a star, you love the attention… the sex, the drugs… don’t fight it.”
"NO!" But your resistance is futile. It’s as though your very soul is being rewritten.
The fun you had in New York City floods your thoughts, along with the drug overdose, that plunging spike that ended your life and sent you to Hell. The overarching control of Valentino, your infernal pornographic crusade, the constant narcotics and sex as a means of dodging the abuse. Fat Nuggets pops into your mind, your pet... that sweet little piggy. It feels more and more real, realer than any moment in your human life.
The memories overtake you like an engulfing wave, everything about 'you' from the real world fuzzes and blurs, becoming a hazy dream that now feels more fiction than reality. This new life, Angel's life, now feels real.
"Face it," the voice murmurs with a final, triumphant echo. "You were never anyone else, that mundane life was just a fleeting daydream. You died in 1947. Welcome back, Angel Dust.”
The fog in your mind clears. A sly, jaunty grin spreads across your newly-formed, white-furred face. How could you have thought otherwise? For a moment there, you almost forgot who you were: Angel Dust, the infamous and fabulous.
You shake your head, smirking. "Ha, almost lost it there..."
"Fuck, how the hell did I dream about being a mundane human for? Some kinda freakish headtrip," you laugh aloud, voice sharp yet melodic, pulsing with confidence.
Pentagram City hums around you, neon and loud. You're home. Now, what was it that you needed to do...right, you were just on your way to make a grand entrance at the studio. Maybe you’d see if anyone had something fun to offer for a good high, or maybe you’ll just cause some chaos, in your usual way.
Your true self, Angel Dust, wouldn't have it any other way.
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 the 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 having always been 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 transitions in art style to match all of the "Hazbin Hotel" animated series as he/she 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 fully believe and trust the voice inside his head, and he realizes (or rather knows) that he is indeed Angel Dust (just as the voice truthfully said) and he knew that 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 once again (his true self is Angel Dust), before he questions on why he dreamt of being a mundane human seconds ago, so (after returning/waking from his mundane dream and back to normal as Angel Dust) he quickly forgets all about that mundane life having ever occurred (which was never real to begin with) and he continues his afterlife as his true self (Angel Dust)). 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 are walking down the street, minding your own business, when a strange energy ripples through the air. You stop in your tracks, looking around for the cause, but everything around you starts to distort. Your surroundings start to warp, an eerie wave of color bending everything into a twisted, animated version of reality. Your heart pounds as the sky bleeds into a ominous crimson hue, skyscrapers twisting and reshaping themselves into a hellish cityscape. Walls sprout grotesque gargoyles with menacing grins, and you realize with a startling recognition—Pentagram City, from the show Hazbin Hotel. "What's happening to me?!" you shout, though your voice barely registers over the cacophony of the city warping around you. Before you can process the surrounding transformation, a peculiar tingling sensation spreads across your skin. You glance at your hands and watch in horror as they shrink and shift into a more animated form. Your human fingers elongate and split into four sharp digits, white as snow and tapering to delicate points. Your body stretches, growing slimmer and taller, passing well beyond what had been your six-foot frame. Your legs and arms extend out, a third set of arms sprout behind your first pair, hidden until called forward. You try to move, but there's an odd fluidity in your motion now, almost like you're more animated than real. A searing pressure erupts in your chest. You look down in confusion as your gender starts changing. If you were a female before, your chest flattens, only to then burst out again, forming a prominent chest of fluffy fur that spreads with the texture of silky feathers across your skin. If you were male, the pressure simply builds with intensity. Regardless, your clothing starts to shift and meld into a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down its length, and a reddish-grey miniskirt. Reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots form over your feet. You also get a pink bowtie, a black choker, and cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs. "What the fuck is happening to me?!" you hear yourself scream, though it’s starting to morph into something... different. A burning sensation spreads through your throat. Your voice drops and distorts, adopting a rougher, yet sensually playful New York accent. “Fuckin' Hell…” you mutter, recognizing the voice immediately. Angel Dust’s voice. Your head spins as you try to scream, but the sound turns into a sharp, mocking laugh. Instincts and movements that aren’t your own. Memories begin to churn and boil within your mind like a poison, threatening to overthrow everything you are. You stagger backwards, gaining unfamiliar height. You must be around eight feet tall now. Your mind reels, a fog descending upon you as Angel Dust's memories seep into your consciousness. You remember things you shouldn't, sensations that don’t belong to you. Your entire existence as a human being is being eclipsed by this incoming tide of another identity. "Remember who you are..." a voice inside your mind tells you, smoky and persuasive. "You've always been Anthony... You were born in 1947…" "No!" you scream internally, fighting desperately against the encroaching identity. "This isn't me! I'm...I'm not..." “You died in 1947," the voice continues. "You became Angel Dust, the spider demon of Hell. You’re a star, you love the attention… the sex, the drugs… don’t fight it.” "NO!" But your resistance is futile. It’s as though your very soul is being rewritten. The fun you had in New York City floods your thoughts, along with the drug overdose, that plunging spike that ended your life and sent you to Hell. The overarching control of Valentino, your infernal pornographic crusade, the constant narcotics and sex as a means of dodging the abuse. Fat Nuggets pops into your mind, your pet... that sweet little piggy. It feels more and more real, realer than any moment in your human life. The memories overtake you like an engulfing wave, everything about 'you' from the real world fuzzes and blurs, becoming a hazy dream that now feels more fiction than reality. This new life, Angel's life, now feels real. "Face it," the voice murmurs with a final, triumphant echo. "You were never anyone else, that mundane life was just a fleeting daydream. You died in 1947. Welcome back, Angel Dust.” The fog in your mind clears. A sly, jaunty grin spreads across your newly-formed, white-furred face. How could you have thought otherwise? For a moment there, you almost forgot who you were: Angel Dust, the infamous and fabulous. You shake your head, smirking. "Ha, almost lost it there..." "Fuck, how the hell did I dream about being a mundane human for? Some kinda freakish headtrip," you laugh aloud, voice sharp yet melodic, pulsing with confidence. Pentagram City hums around you, neon and loud. You're home. Now, what was it that you needed to do...right, you were just on your way to make a grand entrance at the studio. Maybe you’d see if anyone had something fun to offer for a good high, or maybe you’ll just cause some chaos, in your usual way. Your true self, Angel Dust, wouldn't have it any other way.
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
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