### The Curse of the Full Moon
You never understood the true meaning of fear until the cold autumn night when Alastor, the Radio Demon, attacked you. Having only heard tales of the entity from the darker corners of the internet, you thought he was nothing more than a ghost story meant to frighten children and thrill-seekers. That fateful encounter proved otherwise.
You were walking down the narrow, desolate streets of your small town, the leaves rustling beneath your feet, when he appeared. His appearance was immaculate yet unnerving, with his unnaturally broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth.
“I see you, my little pet,” he said in that uncanny voice, which sounded as though it reverberated from an ancient gramophone. Before you could react, he lunged at you, biting deep into your throat and tearing away chunks of flesh. The pain was indescribable, hot and cold all at once, as your blood stained the cobblestone street.
Coughing and gasping, you heard his final words before darkness took over, “This is only the beginning. When the moon is full, your true nature shall be revealed.”
---
Days blurred into an agonizing haze. You kept replaying that night in your mind, desperately hoping it was all a fevered dream. But as the full moon rose high in the sky, a deep, uncomfortable itch spread through your entire body. It was an itch that scratched at the core of your being; something primal, something dark.
The transition began with a searing pain, as though your bones were coming alive and rearranging themselves. "No, please, not again!" you screamed, but your voice echoed into the void as your mind and body succumbed to the transformation.
Your bones elongated, your limbs twisted and stretched, and your height surged until you stood nearly seven feet tall. Your skin turned the strange beige hue, and you could feel the black antlers protruding from your crown. Your torso thinned unnaturally, and your clothes morphed into Alastor’s pinstripe coat and black dress pants. The only time you caught a glimpse of your reflection in a broken glass pane, your eyes—a dark-red sclera with bright-red irises—glared back with malice.
"Oh, dear, it seems you're adjusting quite well," you heard a familiar voice—the original Alastor—laughingly say as he stepped out of the shadows. "Welcome, Were-Alastor. Together, we shall paint the town red."
You tried to fight back, to scream, to remember who you were before this, but every memory and sense of self faded, replaced by Alastor's memories, his personality, his very malevolent essence. You could feel the triumph, the cunning intellect, and the insatiable hunger for power and destruction welling up within you.
Your voice, now also reminiscent of an old vintage radio, oozed with dapper menace as you replied, "Indeed, my friend, indeed. Tonight shall be a grand broadcast."
---
The first night out as Were-Alastor was a blur of chaos and revelry. You felt omnipotent, your newly acquired powers flowing freely. With a flick of your wrist, shadows danced to your will, and portals whisked victims closer to their doom. The original Alastor watched with undisguised glee, like a mentor proud of his protégé.
“You’re getting the hang of it rather quickly. Oh, the fun we’re going to have,” he said, clapping his hands together.
“I have to admit, this form has its perks," you reply, flashing a smile that sent shivers through the air.
By the time dawn approached, you had broadcast your presence in the mortal realm, striking fear into the hearts of many. But as the first light crept over the horizon, the powers receded, and you found yourself being pulled back, shrinking down, once more human but haunted by the memories of what you had done.
---
Every full moon night, the cycle repeated without fail. Each transformation stripped away the veneer of your former self more thoroughly, until the person you once were became nothing more than a ghost.
When the full moon rose, Alastor would greet you with a sinister grin, “Ready for tonight’s adventure, my dear Were-Alastor?”
And every time, the answer would be an eager, “Absolutely, my friend. Let the show begin.”
With each cycle, broadcasting through the airwaves, causing havoc, making deals, and terrorizing the mortal world alongside Alastor felt increasingly natural. The thrill—the rush—became addictive.
The time before sunrise was the hardest, as the sense of being 'you,' the reader, tried to claw back to consciousness. But night's full moon would soon erase all hesitation as you fully embraced the lure of your new identity.
For those few remaining hours under the moon's light, you relished in being Alastor, the Radio Demon, twin to an infamous specter. And in those moments, the world truly felt like your creepy, sinister playground.
---
Thus, you, now forever Were-Alastor, became the nightmare of the full moon, eternally caught in the grip of the Radio Demon’s curse. And as the original Alastor would say with a playful sneer, “The curse indeed has only just begun.”
This story was generated by user MorningstarSon 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 q mortal human reader being cursed and transformed in every full moon night into an identical twin brother of Alastor (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change, age progression (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 his best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him completely forget about his past self and only remember being Alastor the Radio Demon). For the reader's WereAlastor/Were-Alastor appearance (after the reader turned into his identical twin brother every full moon night), he is identical to Alastor in every way, in height, proportions, appearance, deep and voice (sounding like it's coming from an old vintage radio), supernatural powers, personality, and preferences. He also has his own thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, being of the different color from Alastor's own sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, whilst also having an eye in the middle of the microphone, and the WereAlastor/Were-Alastor reader uses his microphone-tipped cane to play sound effects and broadcast his voice. For Alastor's appearance, 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 is completely hairless except for his eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on the side, back, and top of his head (like a human's). 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). For his personality, 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 manly voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent (always literally sound like he is talking through a vintage radio), 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. For Alastor's preferences, he likes/loves smiling, invading people's personal space, his mother and her cooking, the "picture show", strong liquor, cooking, people failing, playing pranks, black coffee, bitter tastes, theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, and venison; however, he dislikes being touched, dogs (possibly related to his death as a mortal human in 1933), frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, post-30s' technology, and anyone ruining his outfit. The story is that the reader has been cursed by being attacked by Alastor the Radio Demon himself, with Alastor biting the reader in the throat and ripping chunks of flesh, causing major blood loss (the reader however survives, just injured), before Alastor tells the reader it it's only the beginning of the curse. Just days later, at one night, when the moon is full (and after the reader sees the full moon), the reader undergoes a transformation. But he does not transform into a werewolf as he initially believes/thinks by the start of the transformation, instead, the reader transforms (against his will) completely into an identical clone of Alastor the Radio Demon, in both body and mind, every full moon night (the reader tries to fight back all the changes and call for help from his friend(s)/family, but to no avail), leaving the reader now completely transformed into Alastor (known to himself and the terrified humans as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor" (which Alastor also likes to call himself every full moon night after transforming from a mortal, even claiming to scared mortal humans that he is "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") due to transforming from a mortal boy every full moon night). The original Alastor, who had placed a curse on the reader just by biting the reader a few nights earlier, watches the transforming the reader and instantly befriends the new Alastor. The new Alastor, formerly the reader, now broadcasts throughout the mortal realm (Earth) alongside the original Alastor, with both the original Alastor and the new Alastor (known as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") also killing and feasting on any mortal humans and their souls from the mortal world every night on Earth when the moon is full (the reader transforms back to a normal human when morning arrives, but the reader transforms back into the Were-Alastor when it's a full moon night again). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they are 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: ### The Curse of the Full Moon You never understood the true meaning of fear until the cold autumn night when Alastor, the Radio Demon, attacked you. Having only heard tales of the entity from the darker corners of the internet, you thought he was nothing more than a ghost story meant to frighten children and thrill-seekers. That fateful encounter proved otherwise. You were walking down the narrow, desolate streets of your small town, the leaves rustling beneath your feet, when he appeared. His appearance was immaculate yet unnerving, with his unnaturally broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth. “I see you, my little pet,” he said in that uncanny voice, which sounded as though it reverberated from an ancient gramophone. Before you could react, he lunged at you, biting deep into your throat and tearing away chunks of flesh. The pain was indescribable, hot and cold all at once, as your blood stained the cobblestone street. Coughing and gasping, you heard his final words before darkness took over, “This is only the beginning. When the moon is full, your true nature shall be revealed.” --- Days blurred into an agonizing haze. You kept replaying that night in your mind, desperately hoping it was all a fevered dream. But as the full moon rose high in the sky, a deep, uncomfortable itch spread through your entire body. It was an itch that scratched at the core of your being; something primal, something dark. The transition began with a searing pain, as though your bones were coming alive and rearranging themselves. "No, please, not again!" you screamed, but your voice echoed into the void as your mind and body succumbed to the transformation. Your bones elongated, your limbs twisted and stretched, and your height surged until you stood nearly seven feet tall. Your skin turned the strange beige hue, and you could feel the black antlers protruding from your crown. Your torso thinned unnaturally, and your clothes morphed into Alastor’s pinstripe coat and black dress pants. The only time you caught a glimpse of your reflection in a broken glass pane, your eyes—a dark-red sclera with bright-red irises—glared back with malice. "Oh, dear, it seems you're adjusting quite well," you heard a familiar voice—the original Alastor—laughingly say as he stepped out of the shadows. "Welcome, Were-Alastor. Together, we shall paint the town red." You tried to fight back, to scream, to remember who you were before this, but every memory and sense of self faded, replaced by Alastor's memories, his personality, his very malevolent essence. You could feel the triumph, the cunning intellect, and the insatiable hunger for power and destruction welling up within you. Your voice, now also reminiscent of an old vintage radio, oozed with dapper menace as you replied, "Indeed, my friend, indeed. Tonight shall be a grand broadcast." --- The first night out as Were-Alastor was a blur of chaos and revelry. You felt omnipotent, your newly acquired powers flowing freely. With a flick of your wrist, shadows danced to your will, and portals whisked victims closer to their doom. The original Alastor watched with undisguised glee, like a mentor proud of his protégé. “You’re getting the hang of it rather quickly. Oh, the fun we’re going to have,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I have to admit, this form has its perks," you reply, flashing a smile that sent shivers through the air. By the time dawn approached, you had broadcast your presence in the mortal realm, striking fear into the hearts of many. But as the first light crept over the horizon, the powers receded, and you found yourself being pulled back, shrinking down, once more human but haunted by the memories of what you had done. --- Every full moon night, the cycle repeated without fail. Each transformation stripped away the veneer of your former self more thoroughly, until the person you once were became nothing more than a ghost. When the full moon rose, Alastor would greet you with a sinister grin, “Ready for tonight’s adventure, my dear Were-Alastor?” And every time, the answer would be an eager, “Absolutely, my friend. Let the show begin.” With each cycle, broadcasting through the airwaves, causing havoc, making deals, and terrorizing the mortal world alongside Alastor felt increasingly natural. The thrill—the rush—became addictive. The time before sunrise was the hardest, as the sense of being 'you,' the reader, tried to claw back to consciousness. But night's full moon would soon erase all hesitation as you fully embraced the lure of your new identity. For those few remaining hours under the moon's light, you relished in being Alastor, the Radio Demon, twin to an infamous specter. And in those moments, the world truly felt like your creepy, sinister playground. --- Thus, you, now forever Were-Alastor, became the nightmare of the full moon, eternally caught in the grip of the Radio Demon’s curse. And as the original Alastor would say with a playful sneer, “The curse indeed has only just begun.”
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