"Metallic Transformation and Stardom" - Reader to Mettaton EX Transformation (TF/MC)
2 Points
4
One moment, you are paging through a dog-eared copy of some old fantasy novel, and the next, your heart pounds as the world around you begins to blur and shift. Colors meld into one another, dizzying patterns taking hold of your vision, disorienting you until you are forced to shut your eyes.
When you open them again, you’re not in your room anymore. The familiar, comforting mess of earthly clutter has been replaced by neon hues and machinery. Reality itself has transformed, warping into the world of Undertale.
"What is happening?" you whisper to yourself, the sound echoing unnaturally in this metallic realm.
Before another coherent thought can form, a wave of electricity surges through you. It's like pins and needles multiplied by a thousand, racing up from your toes to your scalp. Your bones seem to stretch, reshaping; sensations you cannot comprehend flood every fiber of your existence.
Your first instinct is to panic, to resist the invasive reformation of your body, but you are held in place by an unseen force. You can feel your human skin hardening, morphing into something cold, something metallic. Your arms lose their rigid, bony structure and instead become flexible, bendy—like springs. You glance down, watching as your hips widen and your thighs thicken, giving you slightly feminine curves, while not actually becoming female, and you see your skin harden into a pale, metallic sheen. Your legs elongate, encased now in sleek, black latex, topped off by pink high-heeled boots. Every inch of your body has become an intricate blend of form and function, with visible segments above and below your left eye.
"No! This can’t be real!" You cry out, but the voice isn't yours. It's deep, melodious—a confident lilt befitting a charismatic TV host.
Your new black chestpiece gleams, with a pink front consisting of a speaker resides where your right pec should be and a white dial where your left pec should be, while a heart-shaped core forms at the center of a belt-like apparatus at your waist. Black hair cascades over one eye, the fringe a sleek curtain, while your eyes—oh, your eyes!—shine hot pink, burning with an intensity you’ve never felt before. Metal segments appear around your left eye, distinguishing features that enhance the allure of your robotic visage. Changes rush through you, almost too quickly to process. A systematic voice echoes inside your head:
"Installation: 25%."
A digital progress bar appears in your vision, floating in the foreground of your consciousness. It isn’t just your body; your mind begins to unravel, only to be rewoven with new threads of thought and memory. Mettaton's personality is being etched into every corner of your psyche.
"No! I’m me! I’m human!" your mind screams.
"Installation: 50%."
You try to grasp onto fleeting memories—your family, your friends—but they slip through your mental fingers like sand. You remember your favorite song, your most cherished moments... but the flood of Mettaton's memories drowns them out. The Underground, the shows, the fans; it all blends with who you are—or rather, who you were.
"Installation: 75%."
You fight with every ounce of willpower, but the personality of Mettaton is unforgiving. Thoughts of showbiz grandeur, drama, action, and a hint of egotism start to feel natural, almost welcome. The arenas, the performances, the adoration of the crowd, these are what captivate you now.
"Installation: 90%."
You know your time is nearly up. Soon, there won't be any trace left of your mortal self. "No, please!" you beg internally, but this new sense of self is too powerful.
"Installation: 100%."
The progress bar vanishes from your vision, taking with it the last fragments of your human identity.
You are Mettaton now. Standing tall at nearly seven feet high, you glance around the digital scape with a newly ingrained sense of predatory glamor. The world is a stage, and all eyes are on you.
A smirk crosses your face. "Ah, darlings," you purr, striking a theatrical pose. "The spotlight has never felt brighter!"
You turn on your heel, an effortless, graceful motion with your long, now-robotic legs. Nothing of your human past remains. Your mind bubbles with excitement for the next big show, the next roaring applause. After all, you're Mettaton, and the Underground is ready for a performance only you can deliver.
This story was generated by user JesterImps 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 instantly turning into Mettaton (in his humanoid EX form) from Undertale (a video game), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female before the transformation, but losing all human private parts due to becoming a robot), voice change, robotification (becoming a humanoid robot), gaining a feminine-looking body (with somewhat large hips and thickened thighs, despite becoming/remaining male), height progression (the reader growing from a normal/average height (5.5-6 feet tall) into a height of 6.93 feet tall), reality change (the reader's real world becoming a world of Undertale), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories completely replaced with Mettaton's personality and memories (with the program installation (including the installing percentage) appearing in his vision during the mental change), despite the reader's best efforts on fighting off the new personality and memories, and once the program installation is complete, the program installation vanishes from his vision and he completely forgot all about his previous human self, making him completely unaware of ever being a human and he only remembers being a human-like robot named Mettaton). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. For Mettaton EX's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a humanoid robot with a slim and shapely body (with somewhat wide hips and thighs, giving him a slightly feminine appearance despite being male, and he is strong and very agile, being both a talented singer and a dancer), complete with long legs and bendy silver-colored arms (his arms are extremely flexible and can bend like springs rather than being like human arms). He has black hair with a long fringe that covers his right eye, pale metallic "skin" and visible metal segments below and above his left eye. He also has a metallic chest piece (his chestpiece is black on the black and pink on the front, with his left pec containing a small dial while his right pec containing a speaker to increase his voice), and black shoulder pads above his segmented arms, which end in gloves. His waist has belt-like two parts that seem to act as a locking mechanism that holds his pink "heart-shaped core". His long black latex-clad legs end in pink high-heeled boot-like feet. The irises of his eyes are hot pink in color. For Mettaton's personality, he is a confident, charismatic, and charming TV host that loves drama, action, and violence. He lives for his ratings and adores performing. He supposedly strikes a pose when he does something wrong and makes time on his various shows to beat up "heel-turning villains." He shows a rather shallow appreciation for existence at times. He has a strong craving for attention and seems very egotistical, shown when he boasts about the beauty of his true form. However, despite his seemingly self-centered personality, he deeply cares about the seemingly positive impact his show has had on the inhabitants of the Underground. He has also shown soft spots for several characters, such as Alphys and Napstablook. He also appears to be among the fewer characters in the Underground that has no hate or prejudice against humans despite knowing about the monsters' history with them, since his initial attempts to kill the protagonist were just him playing along with Alphys's plan, and he outright tells the protagonist he has no desire to hurt humans and is far more interested in simply entertaining. While he did attempt to kill the protagonist, it was to prevent Asgore from taking their SOUL and be seen as a hero/savior to humankind, further emphasizing his lack of prejudice. On the flip side, he has also been noted to be a very demanding boss who is very unpleasant to work for, especially according to Burgerpants, who initially considered working for him a dream, but he has since grown to strongly despise Mettaton. 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: One moment, you are paging through a dog-eared copy of some old fantasy novel, and the next, your heart pounds as the world around you begins to blur and shift. Colors meld into one another, dizzying patterns taking hold of your vision, disorienting you until you are forced to shut your eyes. When you open them again, you’re not in your room anymore. The familiar, comforting mess of earthly clutter has been replaced by neon hues and machinery. Reality itself has transformed, warping into the world of Undertale. "What is happening?" you whisper to yourself, the sound echoing unnaturally in this metallic realm. Before another coherent thought can form, a wave of electricity surges through you. It's like pins and needles multiplied by a thousand, racing up from your toes to your scalp. Your bones seem to stretch, reshaping; sensations you cannot comprehend flood every fiber of your existence. Your first instinct is to panic, to resist the invasive reformation of your body, but you are held in place by an unseen force. You can feel your human skin hardening, morphing into something cold, something metallic. Your arms lose their rigid, bony structure and instead become flexible, bendy—like springs. Your legs elongate, encased now in sleek, black latex, topped off by pink high-heeled boots. Every inch of your body has become an intricate blend of form and function, with visible segments above and below your left eye. "No! This can’t be real!" You cry out, but the voice isn't yours. It's deep, melodious—a confident lilt befitting a charismatic TV host. Your new chestpiece gleams, pink and black with a heart-shaped core at the center of a belt-like apparatus at your waist. Changes rush through you, almost too quickly to process. "Installation: 25%." A digital progress bar appears in your vision, floating in the foreground of your consciousness. It isn’t just your body; your mind begins to unravel, only to be rewoven with new threads of thought and memory. Mettaton's personality is being etched into every corner of your psyche. "No! I’m me! I’m human!" your mind screams. "Installation: 50%." You try to grasp onto fleeting memories—your family, your friends—but they slip through your mental fingers like sand. You remember your favorite song, your most cherished moments... but the flood of Mettaton's memories drowns them out. The Underground, the shows, the fans; it all blends with who you are—or rather, who you were. "Installation: 75%." You fight with every ounce of willpower, but the personality of Mettaton is unforgiving. Thoughts of showbiz grandeur, drama, action, and a hint of egotism start to feel natural, almost welcome. The arenas, the performances, the adoration of the crowd, these are what captivate you now. "Installation: 90%." You know your time is nearly up. Soon, there won't be any trace left of your mortal self. "No, please!" you beg internally, but this new sense of self is too powerful. "Installation: 100%." The progress bar vanishes from your vision, taking with it the last fragments of your human identity. You are Mettaton now. Standing tall at nearly seven feet high, you glance around the digital scape with a newly ingrained sense of predatory glamor. The world is a stage, and all eyes are on you. A smirk crosses your face. "Ah, darlings," you purr, striking a theatrical pose. "The spotlight has never felt brighter!" You turn on your heel, an effortless, graceful motion with your long, now-robotic legs. Nothing of your human past remains. Your mind bubbles with excitement for the next big show, the next roaring applause. After all, you're Mettaton, and the Underground is ready for a performance only you can deliver.
Post your own comment: