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"Radio Demons: Twisted Transformation into Alastor's Twin Brother"

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There wasn’t any particular thing you’d done to deserve getting targeted by Alastor; at least, nothing could explain why the mysterious figure from Hazbin Hotel had come into your life.

All you remember is an eerie broadcast pummeling out of your laptop speakers. You’d clicked on a video out of curiosity more than anything, but when you tried to close it, your screen froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as the video suddenly paused, and the grainy image of Alastor leaped out toward you. The world spun, colors bleeding into one another as you found yourself falling.

You land with a painful thud on the cold, ashen ground of Hell, disoriented and writhing in discomfort. It took you a moment to process your new surroundings—a grotesque land of eternal damnation.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t today’s unsuspecting victim!” An omnipresent voice filled the air, dripping with sarcastic honey. Alastor stood before you, his ungodly smile impossibly wide, filled with malice and amusement.

“What the—why am I—?” The words stumbled from your mouth, trying to find a question that could encompass the madness unfurling before you.

“Oh, it’s just so tedious seeing art and stories of me getting turned into other creatures!” Alastor’s voice grows more manic. “So, I thought, why not show a fine young soul like yourself what it’s really like to become someone else, hmm? It’s poetic justice!”

He raises a hand, fingers flickering with crimson energy as ancient symbols dance around his palm. You attempt to stand, but the force knocks you down, the magic grasping and pulling you in. It feels like your very essence is being rewritten.

A sharp, painful tugging sensation assaults every inch of your being as your body starts to warp. The changes hit quickly: inches become feet in mere seconds, your height surging upwards as your bones stretch and pop. Your torso slims unnaturally, your limbs elongate, and a broadness pervades your shoulders, making you feel like a marionette being torn apart and reassembled.

Your skin fades to a beige hue, and a grin begins to etch permanently across your face. Try as you might to push it down, it won't budge. The horror and panic you felt are overtaken by irrational cheerfulness. The unsettling transformation forces muscle memory and new habits into you. Your teeth sharpen, filling with yellow chaos. Your hair morphs, turning pinkish-red with black tips; you feel the protrusion of antlers and the uncomfortable growth of claws.

Despite everything, you try to scream, but your voice shifts into an old-fashioned radio announcer tone, the sound of your fearfully grating words becoming unnervingly melodic. “What have you done to me?!”

“Ah, it’s a step in the right direction!” Alastor laughs. “You needn't worry. You’re just waking up, my dear twin.”

Your mind fights against the flood of alien memories crashing like waves inside your head—images of past human life, memories from the early 20th century sifting in. Every cherished memory of your own life incinerates into oblivion, replaced with a life once lived with another.

Bits and pieces of old memories break through, coiling around your mind and pouring into your very soul. You find yourself reminiscing about your mother’s jambalaya, the satisfaction of hosting a radio show, the thrill of your earth victories, and how they shimmered with deadly glee before it all ended in 1933.

The fresh torment as your mind is taken piece by piece. Suddenly, you are remembering your infernal rebirth alongside someone horrifically familiar and inseparably bonded—Alastor, the friend and nightmare of who you were becoming.

“Stop this!” you gasp, but you say nothing—they aren't your words. It’s Alastor’s words of a brother welcoming you back. “This...is...” The fight in you fades, like ink washing away in heavy rain.

Alastor steps closer, lifting your chin to meet your mirror reflection in his eyes. “It’s time to let go of that false dream, brother."

Suddenly, clarity hits. You are Alastor. There, in the depths of hell, with your memories washed away, only the here and now remain etched in never-ending perpetuity.

“Welcome back, Al,” the original Alastor greets with a wide smile, a mirror of your own.

“Thank you, Al,” you respond in unison.

***

The epilogue runs through your mind, a replay of ironic harmonic symphony.

At the Hazbin Hotel, you and your twin assist with Charlie Morningstar’s redemption mission, genuinely amused by her determination. Your duality sparkles as you control demons alike with exaggerated grace, tapping shoes and vintage melodies.

Charlie’s cautious optimism vibrates while Vaggie’s suspicion mirrors hers. “I still don’t trust either of you,” she says with daggers in her eyes.

Angel Dust flirts melodiously without discouraging his behavior, recognizing your brother, you. “Hey twins, got space for a third in your radio show?”

Husk remains belligerent yet grudgingly compliant, your ownership powerful. “Yeah, yeah, Alastor twins. Whaddaya want?” he growls.

Niffty bounds in energetically. “How do you two like the decorations? I'm aiming to outdo myself!”

Your fingers tap on the top of her bobbed head like an affectionate annoyance. “Simply spiffing, Niffty.”

And within you both, the Radio Demons smile, transmitting signals of entertainment and spreading shadows of gloom, connected in darkness and undeniably satisfied. All echoes of another life dead and gone.

This story was generated by user Fizzarolli-Attack-2 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 a POV transformation story of the human reader turning into an identical clone of Alastor (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female, her breasts vanish as her throat gains an Adam's apple to give her a more masculine voice identical to Alastor and her female privates (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) from her crotch/nether region invert itself and pushes out into male private parts (a penis and testicles); however, this is optional and only if the reader is female), instant 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, thus 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). He also has four fingers (like all Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters), unlike real world humans. 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. Not only that, but most importantly, Alastor is truly getting sick and tired of seeing artwork and stories (which he sees online, despite himself not liking technology made past his human death) of himself getting transformed into other characters and creatures in both body and mind (sometimes from different series/franchise), which Alastor genuinely views as distasteful. So to teach the reader a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into the real life Earth 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 notices that his/her grin was now unnaturally wide and permanent, the reader tries to push his/her grin down with his/her hands/fingers to get rid of the smile in order to frown or show fear but cannot due to making emotions other than smiling was completely impossible, the reader also tries to fight those new memories and personality of Alastor flooding the reader's head, the reader is horrified and not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle, and Alastor tells him/her that this is his true self and he is waking up from his false human dream, making him truly and fully believe in Alastor 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 Hell 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, before original Alastor welcomes his twin brother (the reader) back home. In the epilogue, the two Alastors (the original one and the cloned one (formerly the reader)) are in the Hazbin Hotel helping Charlie Morningstar with her redemption hotel ("Hazbin Hotel"), while also interacting with Vaggie (Charlie's girlfriend, who doesn't trust Alastor or his twin brother, while Charlie trusts both Alastors), Angel Dust (an adults/pornographic film actor who's a male spider-like humanoid sinner demon), Husk (a male cat-like humanoid sinner demon with bird-like wings who is a co-worker for Alastor and whose soul is owned by Alastor and his twin brother), and Nifty (a small female cyclops-like humanoid sinner demon who is a co-worker for Alastor and is positively acquainted (Alastor's role having described as having a view of Niffty as like his "obnoxious adopted daughter", being a daughter figure for Alastor despite not being related)). 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: There wasn’t any particular thing you’d done to deserve getting targeted by Alastor; at least, nothing could explain why the mysterious figure from Hazbin Hotel had come into your life. All you remember is an eerie broadcast pummeling out of your laptop speakers. You’d clicked on a video out of curiosity more than anything, but when you tried to close it, your screen froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as the video suddenly paused, and the grainy image of Alastor leaped out toward you. The world spun, colors bleeding into one another as you found yourself falling. You land with a painful thud on the cold, ashen ground of Hell, disoriented and writhing in discomfort. It took you a moment to process your new surroundings—a grotesque land of eternal damnation. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t today’s unsuspecting victim!” An omnipresent voice filled the air, dripping with sarcastic honey. Alastor stood before you, his ungodly smile impossibly wide, filled with malice and amusement. “What the—why am I—?” The words stumbled from your mouth, trying to find a question that could encompass the madness unfurling before you. “Oh, it’s just so tedious seeing art and stories of me getting turned into other creatures!” Alastor’s voice grows more manic. “So, I thought, why not show a fine young soul like yourself what it’s really like to become someone else, hmm? It’s poetic justice!” He raises a hand, fingers flickering with crimson energy as ancient symbols dance around his palm. You attempt to stand, but the force knocks you down, the magic grasping and pulling you in. It feels like your very essence is being rewritten. A sharp, painful tugging sensation assaults every inch of your being as your body starts to warp. The changes hit quickly: inches become feet in mere seconds, your height surging upwards as your bones stretch and pop. Your torso slims unnaturally, your limbs elongate, and a broadness pervades your shoulders, making you feel like a marionette being torn apart and reassembled. Your skin fades to a beige hue, and a grin begins to etch permanently across your face. Try as you might to push it down, it won't budge. The horror and panic you felt are overtaken by irrational cheerfulness. The unsettling transformation forces muscle memory and new habits into you. Your teeth sharpen, filling with yellow chaos. Your hair morphs, turning pinkish-red with black tips; you feel the protrusion of antlers and the uncomfortable growth of claws. Despite everything, you try to scream, but your voice shifts into an old-fashioned radio announcer tone, the sound of your fearfully grating words becoming unnervingly melodic. “What have you done to me?!” “Ah, it’s a step in the right direction!” Alastor laughs. “You needn't worry. You’re just waking up, my dear twin.” Your mind fights against the flood of alien memories crashing like waves inside your head—images of past human life, memories from the early 20th century sifting in. Every cherished memory of your own life incinerates into oblivion, replaced with a life once lived with another. Bits and pieces of old memories break through, coiling around your mind and pouring into your very soul. You find yourself reminiscing about your mother’s jambalaya, the satisfaction of hosting a radio show, the thrill of your earth victories, and how they shimmered with deadly glee before it all ended in 1933. The fresh torment as your mind is taken piece by piece. Suddenly, you are remembering your infernal rebirth alongside someone horrifically familiar and inseparably bonded—Alastor, the friend and nightmare of who you were becoming. “Stop this!” you gasp, but you say nothing—they aren't your words. It’s Alastor’s words of a brother welcoming you back. “This...is...” The fight in you fades, like ink washing away in heavy rain. Alastor steps closer, lifting your chin to meet your mirror reflection in his eyes. “It’s time to let go of that false dream, brother." Suddenly, clarity hits. You are Alastor. There, in the depths of hell, with your memories washed away, only the here and now remain etched in never-ending perpetuity. “Welcome back, Al,” the original Alastor greets with a wide smile, a mirror of your own. “Thank you, Al,” you respond in unison. *** The epilogue runs through your mind, a replay of ironic harmonic symphony. At the Hazbin Hotel, you and your twin assist with Charlie Morningstar’s redemption mission, genuinely amused by her determination. Your duality sparkles as you control demons alike with exaggerated grace, tapping shoes and vintage melodies. Charlie’s cautious optimism vibrates while Vaggie’s suspicion mirrors hers. “I still don’t trust either of you,” she says with daggers in her eyes. Angel Dust flirts melodiously without discouraging his behavior, recognizing your brother, you. “Hey twins, got space for a third in your radio show?” Husk remains belligerent yet grudgingly compliant, your ownership powerful. “Yeah, yeah, Alastor twins. Whaddaya want?” he growls. Niffty bounds in energetically. “How do you two like the decorations? I'm aiming to outdo myself!” Your fingers tap on the top of her bobbed head like an affectionate annoyance. “Simply spiffing, Niffty.” And within you both, the Radio Demons smile, transmitting signals of entertainment and spreading shadows of gloom, connected in darkness and undeniably satisfied. All echoes of another life dead and gone.

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