"Infernal Genesis: Rise of Crimson"
1 Points
You wake up with a start, the red glow of an unfamiliar room searing into your eyes. Panic flutters in your chest as you scan the room—rich, dark curtains drape heavily alongside the windows, casting deep shadows across antique furniture adorned with gaudy embellishments. Where are you? A mirror nearby showcases a figure both imposing and menacing.
"Wh-what...?" Your voice, quivering and foreign, echoes strangely in the empty room. Raising your hands to your face, you notice the short-clawed fingers and dark, red skin. Your fingertips brush across sharp teeth as they touch your mouth, meeting a fang made of—gold?
As you blink in astonishment, you're suddenly hyper-aware of your changed attire—a high-collared red shirt under a navy blue coat with light blue accents and red linings, your legs encased in dark blue pants, black and red-heeled dress shoes on your cloven hooves. Around the mirror, white markings accent your eyes, a fashion statement far from anything you ever wore before. Or was it?
You shake your head, trying to remember. Images of a different life—a human life—begin to fade faster than you can grasp. You try, with all your might, to hold on to the memories, but they slip through your fingers like sand.
"Who... Who am I?" you mutter, gripping the edges of the mirror as if it held your sanity.
"C'mon, snap out of it..." You whisper sharply to yourself. Maybe this is just a dream. It has to be.
But as your thoughts attempt to anchor into the human identity, a wave of dizziness sweeps through you, forcing you to clutch your head. Sharp pains accompanied by intrusive memories—throne rooms, mafia dealings, sharp orders barked through clenched fangs—begin filling gaps in your consciousness. Your hands tremble, echoing tensions you scarcely understand.
"No. This isn’t real. None of this is real. My name...My name is..." The name escapes you.
Another memory thrusts itself forward: a glinting smile drawing back in genuine mirth, contrasting the cold ruthlessness in your heart. Shark-like demon gangsters loitering with a fearful respect.
The dizziness intensifies, and something in you snaps. "No, you’re Crimson. You've always been Crimson. The head of the family, the kingpin of the Greed Ring."
Your confusion is tightening into stubbornness, resistance crumbling under the weight of a mind not your own. You struggle to recall faces—friends, family—that now blur and dissolve. Instead, a smirk forms across your mouth as you remember Moxxie, your disgrace of a son, trying to earn the respect you’ve always withheld.
You remember yelling at him incessantly. "Dammit, Moxxie! A real man doesn’t show weakness."
You try to resist fully giving in, grasping desperately onto the thin threads of your former humanity.
"Think...focus...I can't be—"
But it is lost. Emotions turn ice-cold as the last memories of your life as a human are replaced. All that fills your mind is the life of Crimson—a life steeped in power, fear, and ruthlessness. A chuckle escapes you, a twisted sense of familiarity and satisfaction washing over.
You stand up straight, adjusting the dark navy blue coat with practiced ease. There’s no room for those futile memories, not in this world. Perhaps that human was a dream, something weak and meaningless, best forgotten. You’re where you belong—in Hell, in the Greed Ring, at the top of the food chain.
A knock on the door snaps you back to current reality—your reality. "Boss, the meeting’s about to start," comes a voice—one you recognize. You smile, a cold, commanding smile.
"About time," you respond firmly, voice steady and filled with authority. Crimson would never show fear or uncertainty. As always, you lead with power and instill fear.
You head towards the door, no longer yearning for your past human life. There’s only the present—your present. And in Hell, that means keeping everyone in line, by any means necessary.
The past is dead, and you—Crimson—are very much alive and in control.
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 the POV transformation story of the 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: You wake up with a start, the red glow of an unfamiliar room searing into your eyes. Panic flutters in your chest as you scan the room—rich, dark curtains drape heavily alongside the windows, casting deep shadows across antique furniture adorned with gaudy embellishments. Where are you? A mirror nearby showcases a figure both imposing and menacing. "Wh-what...?" Your voice, quivering and foreign, echoes strangely in the empty room. Raising your hands to your face, you notice the short-clawed fingers and dark, red skin. Your fingertips brush across sharp teeth as they touch your mouth, meeting a fang made of—gold? As you blink in astonishment, you're suddenly hyper-aware of your changed attire—a high-collared red shirt under a navy blue coat with light blue accents and red linings, your legs encased in dark blue pants, black and red-heeled dress shoes on your cloven hooves. Around the mirror, white markings accent your eyes, a fashion statement far from anything you ever wore before. Or was it? You shake your head, trying to remember. Images of a different life—a human life—begin to fade faster than you can grasp. You try, with all your might, to hold on to the memories, but they slip through your fingers like sand. "Who... Who am I?" you mutter, gripping the edges of the mirror as if it held your sanity. "C'mon, snap out of it..." You whisper sharply to yourself. Maybe this is just a dream. It has to be. But as your thoughts attempt to anchor into the human identity, a wave of dizziness sweeps through you, forcing you to clutch your head. Sharp pains accompanied by intrusive memories—throne rooms, mafia dealings, sharp orders barked through clenched fangs—begin filling gaps in your consciousness. Your hands tremble, echoing tensions you scarcely understand. "No. This isn’t real. None of this is real. My name...My name is..." The name escapes you. Another memory thrusts itself forward: a glinting smile drawing back in genuine mirth, contrasting the cold ruthlessness in your heart. Shark-like demon gangsters loitering with a fearful respect. The dizziness intensifies, and something in you snaps. "No, you’re Crimson. You've always been Crimson. The head of the family, the kingpin of the Greed Ring." Your confusion is tightening into stubbornness, resistance crumbling under the weight of a mind not your own. You struggle to recall faces—friends, family—that now blur and dissolve. Instead, a smirk forms across your mouth as you remember Moxxie, your disgrace of a son, trying to earn the respect you’ve always withheld. You remember yelling at him incessantly. "Dammit, Moxxie! A real man doesn’t show weakness." You try to resist fully giving in, grasping desperately onto the thin threads of your former humanity. "Think...focus...I can't be—" But it is lost. Emotions turn ice-cold as the last memories of your life as a human are replaced. All that fills your mind is the life of Crimson—a life steeped in power, fear, and ruthlessness. A chuckle escapes you, a twisted sense of familiarity and satisfaction washing over. You stand up straight, adjusting the dark navy blue coat with practiced ease. There’s no room for those futile memories, not in this world. Perhaps that human was a dream, something weak and meaningless, best forgotten. You’re where you belong—in Hell, in the Greed Ring, at the top of the food chain. A knock on the door snaps you back to current reality—your reality. "Boss, the meeting’s about to start," comes a voice—one you recognize. You smile, a cold, commanding smile. "About time," you respond firmly, voice steady and filled with authority. Crimson would never show fear or uncertainty. As always, you lead with power and instill fear. You head towards the door, no longer yearning for your past human life. There’s only the present—your present. And in Hell, that means keeping everyone in line, by any means necessary. The past is dead, and you—Crimson—are very much alive and in control.
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