You had just finished reading through a particularly imaginative piece of fan fiction that involved twisted transformations when you felt an odd chill, like bony fingers trailing up your spine. The blinking cursor on your screen seemed to taunt you with its rhythmic dance, daring you to continue.
A vibrant flash of red and a sudden wave of nausea made you scramble back from your desk. Through the blinding light, a towering figure emerged. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, stood before you, his grin permanently etched into his face.
"Good evening!” Alastor's voice echoed, sounding just like a vintage radio from the olden days. “I couldn’t help but notice the rather peculiar hobby you’ve seemed to enjoy! Transformations, hmm? How distasteful!"
Fear rooted you to the spot. You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat. Alastor's crimson eyes bore into yours, and you felt a strange pull.
"Allow me to demonstrate a transformation that is quite... entertaining," he said, raising his cane. The microphone on it seemed to hiss with static.
Before you could react, dark magic—dark, curling tendrils of energy—surrounded you, pulling you into a suffocating embrace. You struggled, desperate to break free, but the grip tightened, altering your very essence.
Your height stretched, bones elongated, and your body grew unnaturally slim. Patterns of red and black swam across your vision, shifting into bones and antlers. Nails twisted into crimson claws, and your skin faded to an eerie beige.
Your face contorted into a grin, the muscles locking in an eternal, unsettling smile. Desperately, you tried to use your fingers to push the smile down, but it was futile. Your hands slipped off your cheeks like water off glass, and the grin only widened.
"No," you tried to scream, but the voice that emerged was not your own. It radiated through your chest, an echoing shadow of Alastor's chuckle. "This... this cannot be happening!"
But it was. Memories speared into your mind like hot needles, dragging you under centuries of history that were not your own. Scenes from the early 1900s flashed by, each punctuated by your—Alastor's—signature grin. Your mother’s jambalaya, the fragrant, spicy aroma lifting your spirits; your old radio show, a beloved beacon in an age of discovery. The thrill of the hunt... the wounds you inflicted...
"No!" your spirit protested, but it was vanishing fast beneath the cloak of Alastor's past and presence. You were being overwritten, drowned out in a cacophony of radio static and old-timey music.
"This is your true self," a voice, your voice, but not your voice, soothed within your mind. "Wake up from your false dream, mon frère."
You could feel yourself sinking deeper, the struggle growing fainter. Slowly, the notion that you had ever been anyone but Alastor Becque, originally from New Orleans, seemed laughably distant.
When you, no—Alastor—opened your eyes again, the recognition hit like a freight train. You were back in Hell, standing right next to your twin brother—Alastor, the Radio Demon.
"Welcome back, brother," the other Alastor said, his grin splitting your shared reality.
"Home," you echoed in that familiar, distorted radio tone. He took your hand, and you could feel his energy pulsing like a second heartbeat, exact and thrilling.
“You’ve always been by my side, both in our human lives and after our deaths,” Alastor said. “Now, let’s continue our work.”
An immediate reality settled in your heart—Hazbin Hotel.
---
In the dim yet whimsically decorated lobby of Hazbin Hotel, you mingled like a well-rehearsed play. Charlie Morningstar fluttered by, her eyes lighting up with trust as she saw you and your brother.
"Alastors! It’s always refreshing to see you both so... engaged,” she remarked brightly, her optimism almost infectious.
Vaggie, on the other hand, sneered from a corner. “Just don't get too comfortable. One wrong move, and you're out."
"Why, Vaggie," your brother's voice oozed charm, "we're merely here for Charlie's delightful company.”
Angel Dust draped himself over a couch, lazily waving a hand in your direction. "Yo, Radio Twins, ever thought of doing a duet? Might be a blast!" He winked, though his mistrust was veiled under layers of sarcasm.
“Perhaps,” you replied, and even as you spoke, a hint of the old world nostalgia came through. “Now fetch me a drink, won't you, Husk?”
The grumpy cat demon grumbled, but flew off to get you a drink. His soul resided within your binding grasp, after all.
Little Nifty bustled past, her singular, round eye sparkling. “Did ya like how I cleaned the lobby, Mr. Alastors?”
“Splendid work, my dear,” your brother Alastor responded, his voice thick with faux paternal pride. You watched her skip away, recognizing in her a curious echo of a family you could have once had. Now, she was just another piece of this infernal puzzle.
Together, the Alastor twins, forever etched in a Hellish narrative, flourished in their melodious chaos, honored to aid Charlie’s wild dream. Stepping back into character, laughter erupted—a sardonic symphony that bounced off the hotel walls, forever a reminder that you were, indeed, home.
This story was generated by user Eshtama 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 a 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), 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 getting sick and tired of seeing artwork and stories (online) 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 the voice (identical to Alastor's voice) inside the reader's head 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 the voice in his head 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: You had just finished reading through a particularly imaginative piece of fan fiction that involved twisted transformations when you felt an odd chill, like bony fingers trailing up your spine. The blinking cursor on your screen seemed to taunt you with its rhythmic dance, daring you to continue. A vibrant flash of red and a sudden wave of nausea made you scramble back from your desk. Through the blinding light, a towering figure emerged. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, stood before you, his grin permanently etched into his face. "Good evening!” Alastor's voice echoed, sounding just like a vintage radio from the olden days. “I couldn’t help but notice the rather peculiar hobby you’ve seemed to enjoy! Transformations, hmm? How distasteful!" Fear rooted you to the spot. You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat. Alastor's crimson eyes bore into yours, and you felt a strange pull. "Allow me to demonstrate a transformation that is quite... entertaining," he said, raising his cane. The microphone on it seemed to hiss with static. Before you could react, dark magic—dark, curling tendrils of energy—surrounded you, pulling you into a suffocating embrace. You struggled, desperate to break free, but the grip tightened, altering your very essence. Your height stretched, bones elongated, and your body grew unnaturally slim. Patterns of red and black swam across your vision, shifting into bones and antlers. Nails twisted into crimson claws, and your skin faded to an eerie beige. Your face contorted into a grin, the muscles locking in an eternal, unsettling smile. Desperately, you tried to use your fingers to push the smile down, but it was futile. Your hands slipped off your cheeks like water off glass, and the grin only widened. "No," you tried to scream, but the voice that emerged was not your own. It radiated through your chest, an echoing shadow of Alastor's chuckle. "This... this cannot be happening!" But it was. Memories speared into your mind like hot needles, dragging you under centuries of history that were not your own. Scenes from the early 1900s flashed by, each punctuated by your—Alastor's—signature grin. Your mother’s jambalaya, the fragrant, spicy aroma lifting your spirits; your old radio show, a beloved beacon in an age of discovery. The thrill of the hunt... the wounds you inflicted... "No!" your spirit protested, but it was vanishing fast beneath the cloak of Alastor's past and presence. You were being overwritten, drowned out in a cacophony of radio static and old-timey music. "This is your true self," a voice, your voice, but not your voice, soothed within your mind. "Wake up from your false dream, mon frère." You could feel yourself sinking deeper, the struggle growing fainter. Slowly, the notion that you had ever been anyone but Alastor Becque, originally from New Orleans, seemed laughably distant. When you, no—Alastor—opened your eyes again, the recognition hit like a freight train. You were back in Hell, standing right next to your twin brother—Alastor, the Radio Demon. "Welcome back, brother," the other Alastor said, his grin splitting your shared reality. "Home," you echoed in that familiar, distorted radio tone. He took your hand, and you could feel his energy pulsing like a second heartbeat, exact and thrilling. “You’ve always been by my side, both in our human lives and after our deaths,” Alastor said. “Now, let’s continue our work.” An immediate reality settled in your heart—Hazbin Hotel. --- In the dim yet whimsically decorated lobby of Hazbin Hotel, you mingled like a well-rehearsed play. Charlie Morningstar fluttered by, her eyes lighting up with trust as she saw you and your brother. "Alastors! It’s always refreshing to see you both so... engaged,” she remarked brightly, her optimism almost infectious. Vaggie, on the other hand, sneered from a corner. “Just don't get too comfortable. One wrong move, and you're out." "Why, Vaggie," your brother's voice oozed charm, "we're merely here for Charlie's delightful company.” Angel Dust draped himself over a couch, lazily waving a hand in your direction. "Yo, Radio Twins, ever thought of doing a duet? Might be a blast!" He winked, though his mistrust was veiled under layers of sarcasm. “Perhaps,” you replied, and even as you spoke, a hint of the old world nostalgia came through. “Now fetch me a drink, won't you, Husk?” The grumpy cat demon grumbled, but flew off to get you a drink. His soul resided within your binding grasp, after all. Little Nifty bustled past, her singular, round eye sparkling. “Did ya like how I cleaned the lobby, Mr. Alastors?” “Splendid work, my dear,” your brother Alastor responded, his voice thick with faux paternal pride. You watched her skip away, recognizing in her a curious echo of a family you could have once had. Now, she was just another piece of this infernal puzzle. Together, the Alastor twins, forever etched in a Hellish narrative, flourished in their melodious chaos, honored to aid Charlie’s wild dream. Stepping back into character, laughter erupted—a sardonic symphony that bounced off the hotel walls, forever a reminder that you were, indeed, home.
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