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"Shattered Realities: Embracing Angel Dust"

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You're standing in your kitchen, focused on making yourself a simple lunch. Your mundane life is comforting in its routine, predictable and warm. The bright sunlight filters through the window, casting slanting shadows on the counter, mirroring the mundane reality you've known all your life.

Suddenly, everything feels...off. The air thickens, the room seeming to pull apart and meld into itself. Objects around you warp and distort, colors bleed together like melting crayons in the sun. The world you once knew begins to shatter before your eyes, and a new one rapidly takes its place. You try to scream, to shout, but your voice is swallowed by the cacophony of shifting realities.

In an instant, the comforting suburban kitchen melts away, replaced by the darker, more sinister backdrop of Pentagram City. Jagged buildings loom overhead, strange and eerie lights flicker through the streets. You blink, trying to make sense of this warped, cartoonish environment when another, more visceral change begins to overtake you.

Your body stretches and elongates, bones creaking and muscles twisting. If you were female before, you feel your chest flattening, the unmistakable sensations of your body masculinizing. Despite the bizarre transformation, softness remains in the curves, but you are unmistakably becoming more masculine, more...Angel Dust.

You look down, and your casual clothes have been replaced by a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes, a reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots. You raise your hands ā€“ four fingers. Two sets of arms. You see long cerise pink gloves on one set and white gloves on the other. Your reflection in a passing window reveals the full grotesque beauty of Angel Dust staring back at you, as if awakening.

"What the fuck!" you shout, clutching your head with your now-spidery fingers, voice a sultry mix of New York drawl and undeniable femininity, completely unlike your previous tone.

Your mind spins, trying to grasp to remnants of your prior self. Who were you? The memories of your mundane life are distorting, fraying at the edges. You can feel it all slipping away, replaced with vivid recollections not your own ā€“ performing in adult films, clashes in the streets of Hell, the twisted humor you never had before.

"No, no, this isn't right..." You stagger, feeling your thoughts fracture. Your speech is peppered with swears you never used. ā€œI was...what was I again? Fuck this shit!ā€

Snatches of Angel Dust's memories force themselves to the forefront. You remember overdosing in New York, living under Valentinoā€™s thumb. ā€œI ā€“ I don't want this,ā€ you whisper, feeling your past drown in a torrent of crude jokes, flamboyant flirtations, drug highs, and violent lows.

A sinister voice hums within your mind, almost soothingly. "This is who you are, Anthony. Always have been. The other life? Just an illusion, a pathetic daydream."

"No! Iā€™m...Iā€™m not Angel Dust!" You try to cling to your fading sense of self, voice trembling with desperation, "I donā€™t...I'm not this...gay demon spider!"

But the truth is insistent, it curls around your brain, making resistance impossible. The voice, Angel Dustā€™s true essence, whispers seductively, "Remember, sugartits, the life you had before was never real. You died in 1947, remember?"

The pieces of your former life fade, swallowed by the truth of your existence as Angel Dust. You stop, standing still in the middle of Pentagram City, fists clenched. There's no more ā€˜you', just the vivid, loud, unrestrainable Angel Dust. "Oh, fuck it," you mutter, a grin tugging at your lips. "Guess I've always been this fabulous."

As clarity returns, you wonder briefly about the remnants of that false life, a bizarre two-second dream that made you think you were some mundane human. What a joke. You shake your head, strutting down the chaotic streets of Pentagram City, hips swaying and heels clicking, the dream that was your human life long forgotten. You are Angel Dust - and youā€™ve got a fuckinā€™ city to entertain.

This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli6 with assistance by one of OpenAIā€™s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALLĀ·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts

Prompt: Write the POV transformation story of the human reader instantly turning into Angel Dust (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with art style shift (the reader now being in a cartoon world of the Hazbin Hotel series, and the reader now becoming a cartoon character with the same art style as the other Hazbin Hotel characters, rather than being a real life person), gender change (if the reader is a female, her breasts flattens to nonexistence (before her chest pushes out again to form a prominent chest of fluffy fur) as her body feels more masculine, while retaining the curves to fit her new self as Angel Dust, and her female genitals (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) inverts itself before pushing out into testicles and a penis; however, this is only optional and only if the reader is a female), instant clothes change (the reader's clothes instantly changes into Angel Dust's outfit), age progression (aging until the reader is biologically somewhere around the 30s), height progression (growing from an average 5.7-6 foot height to 8 feet tall), voice change (the reader's voice changes into Angel Dust's voice), reality change (the reader's real world becoming the world of Hazbin Hotel), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Angel Dust's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts of fighting his/her new personality and memories, making the reader completely forget he was a normal human person, even forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds ago, and instead he remembers ever being a sinner demon who died as a human man somewhere in 1947, and he remembers having always been a spider-like demon of Hell named "Angel Dust" ever since his mortal human death on Earth, and has since become a popular adults film actor (such as for sex films, etc)). For Angel Dust's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves, despite being a male) and he stands about 8 or more feet tall, both due to his long torso and legs, as well as his heeled boots. His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area. He also has four fingers (like all Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters), unlike real world humans. His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick. His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center. He has a New York accent. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes. He lacks a nose and ears, giving him a less "human" appearance. One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show. Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves. Though, usually seen with six limbs (two legs and four arms), Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will (meaning that he can have eight limbs; two legs and six arms). Here is Angel Dust's personality; he is gay (homosexual), brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words). He will often use these traits to deflect criticism or insults, and side-step responsibility. He will switch between playful and destructive as he pleases, and his humor tends to be crude and crass, with an emphasis on dirty jokes and innuendos, which he feels is expected of him and actively plays into. He is stylish and performs an excessive amount of confidence with his public persona, being wildly flirtatious and interested in receiving positive attention for his looks and the profile he has made for himself in Hell. He also makes a show of looking down others, declaring the other denizens of Hell to be mostly "ugly freaks". As a result, Angel can often appear flippant and callous. In reality he is preemptively defensive and hides much of his true, more sensitive and insecure, self for his own protection, not expecting those around him to show him kindness. Angel does have friends, and while he cares about them and will sometimes show signs of wanting to reach out, he keeps many walls up between himself and others, being very protective of his true feelings and avoiding holding overly emotional relationships. He holds a cynical view on the idea of redemption, although he seems to still hold onto a small hope it may be possible for him. The ongoing controlling and abusive situation he is in with his boss, Valentino, puts him under a great deal of stress at his work, and he is implied to be somewhat traumatized as a result. Here are Angel Dust's preferences (likes/dislikes); he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, cooking, flirting, popsicles, the color pink, monetary gain, and Italian food. However, he dislikes his own feet (he would avoid sex work that involved his feet, or else he would be angry about it if it was unavoidable), losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to him, memorizing scripts, Niffty getting into trouble (including Niffty handling weapons), anyone pointing out his facade (including being called fake), how expensive drugs and alcohol cost him, anyone else ending up like him, anyone discrediting his acting, Charlie's scriptwriting, and Charlie involving herself with Valentino's affairs. Here is Angel Dust's history (according to the Hazbin Hotel series); Anthony was born (when he was a human) on April 1st alongside his twin sister, Molly, in the early 20th century. He came from an Italian mob family in New York City. He died in his early-mid 30s in 1947 following a drug overdose. Upon entering Hell as a sinner demon, Anthony quickly became involved in sex work, cutting ties with his family's mob-related activities, and adopted the name "Angel Dust". He eventually met and signed a contract with Valentino. This gave Valentino ownership of Angel's soul and put him under his employment at his porn studio, which allowed Angel to eventually become one of the biggest adult film superstars in Hell. Continuing to drown out his world with narcotics and sex along with his twisted sense of humor, Angel followed a path of self-destruction to cope and in the hope that if he ruined himself enough Valentino would no longer want him as "his favorite toy" and release him from their contract. Angel at some point starred in a kidnapping BDSM film which won him a "Sex-x-xi" award over another actress, Tiffany Titfucker. At some point, Angel Dust was gifted a small demon pig named Fat Nuggets from Valentino, which Angel Dust loves his pet (Fat Nuggets). The story is that the reader is minding his/her business, but then the world around him/her warps/changes into Pentagram City, located in the Pride Ring of Hell, as depicted in the adults cartoon/animated series "Hazbin Hotel" before his/her body transitions in art style to match all of the "Hazbin Hotel" animated series as he/she started to change. After the reader (now truly a male if the reader was a female before the change) had fully transformed, he is confused, but then his mind becomes cloudy/foggy/fuzzy as he starts losing his previous personality and gaining a new personality (he's scared of his personality being replaced), making him homosexual, brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words), with these personality traits forcing into him against his will, however they become natural as if part of him. His memories are also being replaced with those of Angel Dust's, making him terrified of losing himself (meanwhile he starts swearing, despite him never having swore before), as he starts remembering everything about Angel Dust's history, preferences, etc. During his horror, a voice tells him that this is who he really is and that he was never just a mundane person, telling him that he had always been Anthony (now named Angel Dust after arriving in Hell as a sinner demon), as well as always having been gay and loving sex, as well as loving drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, cooking, flirting, popsicles, the color pink, monetary gain, and Italian food, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting off the mind/mental changes (he's scared of losing his personality and memories, so he tells himself to not forget about himself). The voice then tells the reader that the life he remembers was not real (it was just a daydream he got lost in), and the voice tells him that it is impossible for him to have been a human seconds ago (since he died in 1947), before the voice tells/encourages the reader to remember who he really/truly is (Angel Dust), and the reader starts to fully believe and trust the voice inside his head, and he realizes (or rather knows) that he is indeed Angel Dust (just as the voice truthfully said) and he knew that was never someone who was mundane (which he realized/knew was only a strange daydream he just had; it is truly impossible for him to have been human just moments ago, since he (Angel Dust) died in the year 1947 and has been a sinner demon since then; his mind becomes clear again as he remembers his real/true self once again (his true self is Angel Dust), before he questions on why he dreamt of being a mundane human seconds ago, so (after returning/waking from his mundane dream and back to normal as Angel Dust) he quickly forgets all about that mundane life having ever occurred (which was never real to begin with) and he continues his afterlife as his true self (Angel Dust)). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader) so we know what they are saying and what they are thinking (including profanities/swears/strong language/bad language, such as "fuck", "shit", "bitch", and many others that are used/said by Angel Dust, Vox, Valentino, etc, but the human reader doesn't use profanities/swears unlike Angel Dust, who the human reader transforms into, and he won't use bad language until his personality has changed and makes him start swearing, becoming completely natural to him). 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're standing in your kitchen, focused on making yourself a simple lunch. Your mundane life is comforting in its routine, predictable and warm. The bright sunlight filters through the window, casting slanting shadows on the counter, mirroring the mundane reality you've known all your life. Suddenly, everything feels...off. The air thickens, the room seeming to pull apart and meld into itself. Objects around you warp and distort, colors bleed together like melting crayons in the sun. The world you once knew begins to shatter before your eyes, and a new one rapidly takes its place. You try to scream, to shout, but your voice is swallowed by the cacophony of shifting realities. In an instant, the comforting suburban kitchen melts away, replaced by the darker, more sinister backdrop of Pentagram City. Jagged buildings loom overhead, strange and eerie lights flicker through the streets. You blink, trying to make sense of this warped, cartoonish environment when another, more visceral change begins to overtake you. Your body stretches and elongates, bones creaking and muscles twisting. If you were female before, you feel your chest flattening, the unmistakable sensations of your body masculinizing. Despite the bizarre transformation, softness remains in the curves, but you are unmistakably becoming more masculine, more...Angel Dust. You look down, and your casual clothes have been replaced by a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes, a reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots. You raise your hands ā€“ four fingers. Two sets of arms. You see long cerise pink gloves on one set and white gloves on the other. Your reflection in a passing window reveals the full grotesque beauty of Angel Dust staring back at you, as if awakening. "What the fuck!" you shout, clutching your head with your now-spidery fingers, voice a sultry mix of New York drawl and undeniable femininity, completely unlike your previous tone. Your mind spins, trying to grasp to remnants of your prior self. Who were you? The memories of your mundane life are distorting, fraying at the edges. You can feel it all slipping away, replaced with vivid recollections not your own ā€“ performing in adult films, clashes in the streets of Hell, the twisted humor you never had before. "No, no, this isn't right..." You stagger, feeling your thoughts fracture. Your speech is peppered with swears you never used. ā€œI was...what was I again? Fuck this shit!ā€ Snatches of Angel Dust's memories force themselves to the forefront. You remember overdosing in New York, living under Valentinoā€™s thumb. ā€œI ā€“ I don't want this,ā€ you whisper, feeling your past drown in a torrent of crude jokes, flamboyant flirtations, drug highs, and violent lows. A sinister voice hums within your mind, almost soothingly. "This is who you are, Anthony. Always have been. The other life? Just an illusion, a pathetic daydream." "No! Iā€™m...Iā€™m not Angel Dust!" You try to cling to your fading sense of self, voice trembling with desperation, "I donā€™t...I'm not this...gay demon spider!" But the truth is insistent, it curls around your brain, making resistance impossible. The voice, Angel Dustā€™s true essence, whispers seductively, "Remember, sugartits, the life you had before was never real. You died in 1947, remember?" The pieces of your former life fade, swallowed by the truth of your existence as Angel Dust. You stop, standing still in the middle of Pentagram City, fists clenched. There's no more ā€˜you', just the vivid, loud, unrestrainable Angel Dust. "Oh, fuck it," you mutter, a grin tugging at your lips. "Guess I've always been this fabulous." As clarity returns, you wonder briefly about the remnants of that false life, a bizarre two-second dream that made you think you were some mundane human. What a joke. You shake your head, strutting down the chaotic streets of Pentagram City, hips swaying and heels clicking, the dream that was your human life long forgotten. You are Angel Dust - and youā€™ve got a fuckinā€™ city to entertain.

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