It all began with a click. One moment you were scrolling through your favorite fan forums, indulging in the chaos and fun of what-if scenarios involving Alastor, and the next, the room around you darkened.
You felt a shift in the air, a click in your ears like the sound of an old radio tuning into a new frequency. Before you could react, a figure materialized out of the shadows—tall, slim, and grinning like he knew every secret you held dear.
“And what have we here?” Alastor's voice crackled with a vintage resonance, his grin becoming even wider, if that were possible. “Oh, dear reader, it seems you've been having quite the laugh at my expense.”
You tried to back away, but your body was frozen. Fear prickled your skin as the Radio Demon leaned closer, his red eyes glinting like freshly polished buttons.
“I’m tired of these irreverent depictions,” he continued, his voice sliding through the air like silk wrapped around a blade. “It's time for a performance of a different kind. You shall entertain me, but not as you are. No…you will become something much more...familiar.”
His thin clawed fingers traced a pattern in the air. Symbols that looked like glowing red Voodoo veve appeared, hovering around you. You felt an unnatural warmth, then searing pain as though your very essence was being rewritten. Your height began to change first, every joint in your body lengthening painfully until you stood seven feet tall. Any scream you might have uttered was choked off by the transformation ravaging your throat, deepening your voice to match the radio crackle of Alastor's.
“No… Stop!” you managed to croak, but it was useless.
Your skin tingled and burned, your flesh reshaping into a slender, almost skeletal form while the pinstripe coat and red dress-shirt materialized on your body. Your muscles, your bones, everything felt like it was being molded by an unseen sculptor.
Dark red sleeves extended over your contorting hands, which slowly crept into claws, your fingernails sharpening against your will. You tried to fight back against the invasive memories now flooding your mind, the echo of Alastor’s past life splicing over your own. The swampy drawl of Creole French mixed with jazzy radio shows of the 1930s, a collage of experiences that were as unsettling as they were overwhelming.
“My, my,” Alastor mused, looking you over with an almost parental pride. “Perfect. A spitting image. Now, try to scream for me, won’t you?”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear that eternal smile off your new face. But instead, you chuckled—a cold, vintage laugh that belonged to Alastor alone. Your attempts to remember your original name blurred into static, lost in an ocean of new, darker recollections.
You stepped toward a reflective surface, drawn by a combination of horror and curiosity. One glance confirmed the truth: you weren't you anymore. Beige-colored skin, a bob-cut with black tips, and those unmistakable, unnerving red eyes stared back at you.
"You see?" Alastor's voice was triumphant. "You're exquisite. Now let's introduce you to the rest of our delightful circle.”
What was left of you screamed from some dark, recessive corner of your new consciousness, but Alastor's echo was too powerful, drowning out any remnants of your former self. Memories that weren’t yours fully consumed your mind: growing up in New Orleans, the thrill of broadcasting, the moment of death in 1933.
It became impossible to distinguish where Alastor ended and where you began—because you were Alastor now. The Radio Demon’s cunning, his dark charm, his sinister sense of humor—they were all yours. No longer could you remember your life before this moment, only a haze of your own voice echoing Alastor’s immortal laughter.
“Come along, now,” Alastor beckoned, opening a portal to Hell, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. “We have much to broadcast.”
And you followed, willingly. Alastor’s spirit delighted in this rebirthing ritual, his new twin destined to rekindle the fires of Hell with mirth and mayhem. From now till eternity, you would walk side by side with the original Radio Demon, the two of you echoing through the infernal airwaves, bound by a bond of supernatural spite.
There are no regrets left, only a sharp grin stretching your cheeks and an endless loop of malicious intent. Let the stories come, let the chaos ensue; you were ready to enjoy every twisted second of it.
After all, you were Alastor.
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 the human reader turning into identical clone of Alastor (from the adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), 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, 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). 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. What finally annoyed him is seeing artwork and stories (online) of himself getting turned into other characters in both body and mind (sometimes from different series, such as a story with Alastor becoming May from Pokemon, a story with Alastor becoming an inanimate car, a story with Alastor becoming an ant queen, a comic with Alastor becoming Helsa von Eldritch (also from the Hazbin Hotel series), a comic with Alastor becoming Katie Killjoy (also from the Hazbin Hotel series), and many more), which he is getting sick and tired of and he views these stories and artwork as distasteful. So to teach the reader a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life 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 tried to fight those new memories and personality, not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle and his/her mind been completely replaced with Alastor's mind). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. 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: It all began with a click. One moment you were scrolling through your favorite fan forums, indulging in the chaos and fun of what-if scenarios involving Alastor, and the next, the room around you darkened. You felt a shift in the air, a click in your ears like the sound of an old radio tuning into a new frequency. Before you could react, a figure materialized out of the shadows—tall, slim, and grinning like he knew every secret you held dear. “And what have we here?” Alastor's voice crackled with a vintage resonance, his grin becoming even wider, if that were possible. “Oh, dear reader, it seems you've been having quite the laugh at my expense.” You tried to back away, but your body was frozen. Fear prickled your skin as the Radio Demon leaned closer, his red eyes glinting like freshly polished buttons. “I’m tired of these irreverent depictions,” he continued, his voice sliding through the air like silk wrapped around a blade. “It's time for a performance of a different kind. You shall entertain me, but not as you are. No…you will become something much more...familiar.” His thin clawed fingers traced a pattern in the air. Symbols that looked like glowing red Voodoo veve appeared, hovering around you. You felt an unnatural warmth, then searing pain as though your very essence was being rewritten. Your height began to change first, every joint in your body lengthening painfully until you stood seven feet tall. Any scream you might have uttered was choked off by the transformation ravaging your throat, deepening your voice to match the radio crackle of Alastor's. “No… Stop!” you managed to croak, but it was useless. Your skin tingled and burned, your flesh reshaping into a slender, almost skeletal form while the pinstripe coat and red dress-shirt materialized on your body. Your muscles, your bones, everything felt like it was being molded by an unseen sculptor. Dark red sleeves extended over your contorting hands, which slowly crept into claws, your fingernails sharpening against your will. You tried to fight back against the invasive memories now flooding your mind, the echo of Alastor’s past life splicing over your own. The swampy drawl of Creole French mixed with jazzy radio shows of the 1930s, a collage of experiences that were as unsettling as they were overwhelming. “My, my,” Alastor mused, looking you over with an almost parental pride. “Perfect. A spitting image. Now, try to scream for me, won’t you?” You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear that eternal smile off your new face. But instead, you chuckled—a cold, vintage laugh that belonged to Alastor alone. Your attempts to remember your original name blurred into static, lost in an ocean of new, darker recollections. You stepped toward a reflective surface, drawn by a combination of horror and curiosity. One glance confirmed the truth: you weren't you anymore. Beige-colored skin, a bob-cut with black tips, and those unmistakable, unnerving red eyes stared back at you. "You see?" Alastor's voice was triumphant. "You're exquisite. Now let's introduce you to the rest of our delightful circle.” What was left of you screamed from some dark, recessive corner of your new consciousness, but Alastor's echo was too powerful, drowning out any remnants of your former self. Memories that weren’t yours fully consumed your mind: growing up in New Orleans, the thrill of broadcasting, the moment of death in 1933. It became impossible to distinguish where Alastor ended and where you began—because you were Alastor now. The Radio Demon’s cunning, his dark charm, his sinister sense of humor—they were all yours. No longer could you remember your life before this moment, only a haze of your own voice echoing Alastor’s immortal laughter. “Come along, now,” Alastor beckoned, opening a portal to Hell, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. “We have much to broadcast.” And you followed, willingly. Alastor’s spirit delighted in this rebirthing ritual, his new twin destined to rekindle the fires of Hell with mirth and mayhem. From now till eternity, you would walk side by side with the original Radio Demon, the two of you echoing through the infernal airwaves, bound by a bond of supernatural spite. There are no regrets left, only a sharp grin stretching your cheeks and an endless loop of malicious intent. Let the stories come, let the chaos ensue; you were ready to enjoy every twisted second of it. After all, you were Alastor.
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
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