You were sitting at your desk, lit only by the soft glow of your computer screen. The world outside your window was dark and peaceful, contrasting sharply with the chaotic world you were becoming too familiar with inside your mind. A world you had admired from afar. A world that seemed only to exist in your thoughts and on that screen: Hell, as depicted in the animated series Hazbin Hotel.
As much as you enjoyed escaping into these stories, you had no idea that tonight, your world was about to change forever.
A sudden chill filled the room. The hairs on your neck stood on end as if an unseen force was watching you. Before you could react, the room dimmed as if someone was turning down the dial on the reality itself. And then, you heard it—a voice that crackled and hummed like an old radio signal echoing through the darkness.
"Oh, my dear, dear fan," the voice purred, dripping with amusement and a sinister edge. "I must say I’ve grown quite tired of all this transformation nonsense. It's rather distasteful, wouldn't you agree?"
A figure materialized before you, slipping from the shadows. Tall, menacingly thin, and unmistakably Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. His broad smile was permanently etched on that gaunt, beige face, illuminated eerily by hellfire-red eyes.
"Let's play a little game, shall we?" he continued, twirling his thin cane. Without warning, he thrust the tip of it toward you, a red glow shooting forth. Your world collapsed into a vortex of light and sound.
Your skin pricked with static. You could feel your bones stretch and creak painfully, your height surging upward. Seven feet. Slimmer now, your torso, arms, and legs seeming almost fragile. Every part of you felt like it was being remolded by unseen hands, the change inexorable.
You tried to scream but found your voice morphing, the smooth tones replaced by a vintage radio’s modulated crackle. Your reflection in the suddenly-appearing mirror showed eyes that glowed like embers, a broad unnatural smile exposing razor-sharp yellow teeth.
"Ahhh, there it is. Magnificent, truly. Welcome to your new reality."
You fought it, fought the memories barging in, not wanting to relinquish your sense of self. But with every passing second, your past life faded like an old broadcast losing signal. All you could see were flashes of the 1930s, your human life as Alastor, recounting fondly your mother’s jambalaya.
"Remember, you’re waking up from a long human dream," a voice echoed within you, so familiar yet not your own. It was both comforting and terrifying.
You stumbled back as your mind became a battleground. Your old thoughts and memories, friends, family—all were clawed away, replaced by a singular identity: Alastor. Least of all, you were not alone.
*“Another criminal, another prey,”* you—no, Alastor—thought as you donned the red pinstripe coat, perfectly fit.
*“Our legacy must continue together,”* the thoughts intertwined effortlessly. Alastor’s intellect, his cunning, his sinister charm, all became yours.
"I can't... I won't forget," you tried to murmur, but again it was not your voice. *"Humans are weak. We? We're far stronger."*
By the time you reached the crumbling grandiose of Hazbin Hotel, your transformation was complete. Suddenly, the idea of helping Charlie Morningstar, though laughable, became inexplicably intriguing.
"Ah, dear brother!" the original Alastor greeted as you stepped into the lavishly odd hotel lobby, his smile a mirrored version of yours. "What a grand reunion we shall have!"
Charlie's ever-hopeful smile faltered for a moment, then brightened. "Welcome, Alastors. Both of you," she said with that indomitable optimism. "I’m certain together we'll achieve great things."
The original Alastor’s voice sang in your ears, sweet as syrup and just as sticky. "Do you remember now? How splendid it was to broadcast together?"
"Indeed," you replied, the last echoes of resistance drowning in the jubilant noise of your new reality. "Let's bring some color to this monochrome world, shall we?"
Together, you walked into the shimmering gloom of Hell, the twin Radio Demons poised to create an entertainment line no soul would ever dare to miss.
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.
Prompt: Write a POV transformation story of the human reader turning into identical clone of Alastor (from the 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). 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 tried to fight those new memories and personality, not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle, and the voice inside the reader's head tells him/her that this is his true self and he is waking up from his 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 He ll 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. 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 were sitting at your desk, lit only by the soft glow of your computer screen. The world outside your window was dark and peaceful, contrasting sharply with the chaotic world you were becoming too familiar with inside your mind. A world you had admired from afar. A world that seemed only to exist in your thoughts and on that screen: Hell, as depicted in the animated series Hazbin Hotel. As much as you enjoyed escaping into these stories, you had no idea that tonight, your world was about to change forever. A sudden chill filled the room. The hairs on your neck stood on end as if an unseen force was watching you. Before you could react, the room dimmed as if someone was turning down the dial on the reality itself. And then, you heard it—a voice that crackled and hummed like an old radio signal echoing through the darkness. "Oh, my dear, dear fan," the voice purred, dripping with amusement and a sinister edge. "I must say I’ve grown quite tired of all this transformation nonsense. It's rather distasteful, wouldn't you agree?" A figure materialized before you, slipping from the shadows. Tall, menacingly thin, and unmistakably Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. His broad smile was permanently etched on that gaunt, beige face, illuminated eerily by hellfire-red eyes. "Let's play a little game, shall we?" he continued, twirling his thin cane. Without warning, he thrust the tip of it toward you, a red glow shooting forth. Your world collapsed into a vortex of light and sound. Your skin pricked with static. You could feel your bones stretch and creak painfully, your height surging upward. Seven feet. Slimmer now, your torso, arms, and legs seeming almost fragile. Every part of you felt like it was being remolded by unseen hands, the change inexorable. You tried to scream but found your voice morphing, the smooth tones replaced by a vintage radio’s modulated crackle. Your reflection in the suddenly-appearing mirror showed eyes that glowed like embers, a broad unnatural smile exposing razor-sharp yellow teeth. "Ahhh, there it is. Magnificent, truly. Welcome to your new reality." You fought it, fought the memories barging in, not wanting to relinquish your sense of self. But with every passing second, your past life faded like an old broadcast losing signal. All you could see were flashes of the 1930s, your human life as Alastor, recounting fondly your mother’s jambalaya. "Remember, you’re waking up from a long human dream," a voice echoed within you, so familiar yet not your own. It was both comforting and terrifying. You stumbled back as your mind became a battleground. Your old thoughts and memories, friends, family—all were clawed away, replaced by a singular identity: Alastor. Least of all, you were not alone. *“Another criminal, another prey,”* you—no, Alastor—thought as you donned the red pinstripe coat, perfectly fit. *“Our legacy must continue together,”* the thoughts intertwined effortlessly. Alastor’s intellect, his cunning, his sinister charm, all became yours. "I can't... I won't forget," you tried to murmur, but again it was not your voice. *"Humans are weak. We? We're far stronger."* By the time you reached the crumbling grandiose of Hazbin Hotel, your transformation was complete. Suddenly, the idea of helping Charlie Morningstar, though laughable, became inexplicably intriguing. "Ah, dear brother!" the original Alastor greeted as you stepped into the lavishly odd hotel lobby, his smile a mirrored version of yours. "What a grand reunion we shall have!" Charlie's ever-hopeful smile faltered for a moment, then brightened. "Welcome, Alastors. Both of you," she said with that indomitable optimism. "I’m certain together we'll achieve great things." The original Alastor’s voice sang in your ears, sweet as syrup and just as sticky. "Do you remember now? How splendid it was to broadcast together?" "Indeed," you replied, the last echoes of resistance drowning in the jubilant noise of your new reality. "Let's bring some color to this monochrome world, shall we?" Together, you walked into the shimmering gloom of Hell, the twin Radio Demons poised to create an entertainment line no soul would ever dare to miss.
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
Post your own comment: