You stand in your room, flipping through the channels on TV, desperately trying to find something to distract yourself from a rather mundane day. It's late evening, and the city outside your window hums with a twilight buzz. Your eyes squint as you focus on the flashes of colors and half-heard dialogues from various shows. Suddenly, the TV screen glitches and crackles ominously. Frowning, you lean forward, remote poised to change the channel.
But then something peculiar happens. Your entire body tingles, and an inexplicable sensation floods your senses. You grab the edges of your chair, your mind racing. "What's happening to me?" you mutter aloud. The tingling turns into an intense heat, and your vision blurs as you watch your hands begin to change shape and form, skin shifting and morphing.
Pain? No, it’s not pain—more like a deep reshaping from within, a tectonic shift in your very being. You stand, stumbling backward as your height increases, your body's frame stretching upwards and outwards until you nearly brush the ceiling. Your hands feel for the back of the chair; you need something to hold onto, but it feels flimsy in your broadening grip.
"No, no, this can't be happening!" A rush of panic grips you, but you cannot stop the transformation. Your clothes change with a magical seamlessness, melding into rich fabrics that feel comfortably foreign. Gone are your favorite T-shirt and jeans, replaced by a deep red vest with coat-tails, over a gray long-sleeve shirt and a light gray puff tie. Dark gray pants and black shoes complete your new ensemble.
Tears prick your eyes as you gaze into the mirror across the room, your old reflection now utterly gone. Instead, you see a regal figure staring back at you with white sclera and red irises, pupils pinpointing in on your dread. Your gray hair is impeccably styled, and atop it, a pair of red-lensed glasses sit, unused but ready.
"What... am I?"
The realization is a tide washing over your form. You no longer feel like yourself, memories and sensations ebbing away like sand slipping through fingers. You struggle to hold onto fragments of your old self, but they fade against the new flood.
"I am... Stolas," you whisper, the words unfamiliar yet fitting with perfect resonance. Finally, your mind succumbs entirely to your new identity.
A spark of excitement flickers. Why was there initial confusion? Oh, how quaint! Stolas saunters around the room, admiring its eclectic decor. It's not the luxurious abode of his mansion, but there is a charm to it. Books overflow from the shelves—not unlike his own love for volumes of arcane knowledge.
"Ah, there’s nothing like familiar surroundings to ease the mind," he professes to no one in particular. His refined, aristocratic voice feels like a well-tailored glove, something he now wears with pride. Stolas can sense his ancient affinity for magic just beneath his skin, pulsating with the power of Hell’s forbidden tomes.
Peering out the window, he muses, "Now, this is intriguing. The human world up close."
The weight of isolation tugs slightly at Stolas’s heart. Thoughts of his daughter, Octavia, and the painful divide with his wife flutter through his mind's eye like old film reels. "I must check on Via and... Blitzo," he asserts, surprisingly soft, hinting at his vulnerabilities.
Stolas takes a deep breath, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Why would there be sadness today? His new memories hold the promise of untapped adventures, the thrill of the unknown.
"It’s good to be me," he chuckles, adjusting his tie.
And with that, Stolas steps out into the night, eager to explore this fascinatingly flawed human realm, leaving behind any trace of the person who once inhabited this body. That past self fades into oblivion—a mere wisp compared to the vibrant existence of Stolas, the Goetia demon turned regal human. He revels in the flickering city lights, a stage set for all his extravagant endeavors to come.
This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli7 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 the POV transformation story of the human reader instantly turning into a human version of Stolas (from the adults cartoon/animated series Helluva Boss), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change, age change, height progression (increasing in height from an average 5.7-6 foot height to almost 6.5 feet tall), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Stolas'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 person, even forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds ago, and only remembered that he had always been a man named Stolas, which is his real/true self). For Stolas's human appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is is much shorter than his goetia (owl-like demon) form, while still relatively rather tall compared to other humans. He only has one set of eyes (two eyes) instead of two sets of eyes (four eyes), which have white sclera with red irises, and a pair of pupils which he normally lacks in his regular form. He lacks any type of plumage so he instead has gray hair atop his head. His outfit (when he's a human) consists of a deep red vest with coat-tails reminiscent of his tail feathers, over a gray long-sleeve, high-collar shirt with a light gray puff tie. His pants are dark gray and he now has black shoes. During the episode "Seeing Stars" Stolas picks up a pair of red lensed glasses that he wears on his forehead, being reminiscent of his regular forms second set of eyes. Here is Stolas's personality; Stolas gives the immediate impression of someone regal and ostentatious, as would be expected for a royal of his station. He dresses in clothing befitting his role, and his mansion is decadent, containing many large, elaborately framed portraits of himself and his small family. Underneath these dignified trappings, however, Stolas is shown to be a flamboyant, dramatic, eccentric, and often giddy person. Someone who does not take his royal reputation as seriously as the people around him expect him to, and is prone to act quickly on his easily excitable emotions. He is also shown to be very intelligent, even as a child, due to being a bibliophile and having incredible knowledge of many things including the laws of Hell. Stolas can also often get caught up in pursuing his own present interests and fails to pay attention to the more pressing issues around him, including the feelings and needs of others. He has even dismissed their wishes under the belief that, as long as he was happy, everybody else was as well, even when he was told otherwise. He also has trouble expressing his emotions when facing bigger dilemmas such as having a hard time explaining to Octavia that his marriage was never good or standing up to Stella before his affair and having trouble talking to Blitzo about his true feelings toward him. Although, these tendencies can make him appear selfish and even airheaded to some people in his life, he isn't oblivious to correction or regret and this is something he makes an effort to improve on, specifically in regards to his beloved daughter, Octavia. Stolas is also shown to be very lonely, seemingly isolated and cloistered in his position. In the episode "The Circus", when he was a child, he told a young Blitzo that he never had anybody to share his books with, further supporting this notion. Although, he is married, it is clear that he and his wife are not on affectionate terms, and that their marriage is implied to have been somewhat cold for a long while. Stolas has, perhaps surprisingly, an equally romantic and explicit side, something he looks to indulge in with Blitzo, an imp, considered 'lower-class' among his peers, whom he is currently engaged in a complicated extramarital affair with. He is also very uncensored in discussing his many bedroom preferences, using highly explicit and flowery language, sometimes in front of others, and is interested in aspects of BDSM, such as bondage. Stolas is invested in Hell's soap operas as comfort shows, enjoys the process of getting ready for rendezvous, and swoons over idealized ideas of amorous romance. As with many demons, and the denizens of Hell in general, Stolas has a somewhat questionable moral compass and is implied to interfere with the affairs of humans for his own benefit. He can easily cross the boundary between Hell and the living world with his own personal grimoire, and seems to enjoy striking fear into humans. Despite this, he is also gentle and nurturing to those he cares for, showing open devotion to his daughter, concern towards Blitzo and his coworkers, as well as attentiveness to his large and lavish garden of carnivorous Hell-plants. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader) 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 stand in your room, flipping through the channels on TV, desperately trying to find something to distract yourself from a rather mundane day. It's late evening, and the city outside your window hums with a twilight buzz. Your eyes squint as you focus on the flashes of colors and half-heard dialogues from various shows. Suddenly, the TV screen glitches and crackles ominously. Frowning, you lean forward, remote poised to change the channel. But then something peculiar happens. Your entire body tingles, and an inexplicable sensation floods your senses. You grab the edges of your chair, your mind racing. "What's happening to me?" you mutter aloud. The tingling turns into an intense heat, and your vision blurs as you watch your hands begin to change shape and form, skin shifting and morphing. Pain? No, it’s not pain—more like a deep reshaping from within, a tectonic shift in your very being. You stand, stumbling backward as your height increases, your body's frame stretching upwards and outwards until you nearly brush the ceiling. Your hands feel for the back of the chair; you need something to hold onto, but it feels flimsy in your broadening grip. "No, no, this can't be happening!" A rush of panic grips you, but you cannot stop the transformation. Your clothes change with a magical seamlessness, melding into rich fabrics that feel comfortably foreign. Gone are your favorite T-shirt and jeans, replaced by a deep red vest with coat-tails, over a gray long-sleeve shirt and a light gray puff tie. Dark gray pants and black shoes complete your new ensemble. Tears prick your eyes as you gaze into the mirror across the room, your old reflection now utterly gone. Instead, you see a regal figure staring back at you with white sclera and red irises, pupils pinpointing in on your dread. Your gray hair is impeccably styled, and atop it, a pair of red-lensed glasses sit, unused but ready. "What... am I?" The realization is a tide washing over your form. You no longer feel like yourself, memories and sensations ebbing away like sand slipping through fingers. You struggle to hold onto fragments of your old self, but they fade against the new flood. "I am... Stolas," you whisper, the words unfamiliar yet fitting with perfect resonance. Finally, your mind succumbs entirely to your new identity. A spark of excitement flickers. Why was there initial confusion? Oh, how quaint! Stolas saunters around the room, admiring its eclectic decor. It's not the luxurious abode of his mansion, but there is a charm to it. Books overflow from the shelves—not unlike his own love for volumes of arcane knowledge. "Ah, there’s nothing like familiar surroundings to ease the mind," he professes to no one in particular. His refined, aristocratic voice feels like a well-tailored glove, something he now wears with pride. Stolas can sense his ancient affinity for magic just beneath his skin, pulsating with the power of Hell’s forbidden tomes. Peering out the window, he muses, "Now, this is intriguing. The human world up close." The weight of isolation tugs slightly at Stolas’s heart. Thoughts of his daughter, Octavia, and the painful divide with his wife flutter through his mind's eye like old film reels. "I must check on Via and... Blitzo," he asserts, surprisingly soft, hinting at his vulnerabilities. Stolas takes a deep breath, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Why would there be sadness today? His new memories hold the promise of untapped adventures, the thrill of the unknown. "It’s good to be me," he chuckles, adjusting his tie. And with that, Stolas steps out into the night, eager to explore this fascinatingly flawed human realm, leaving behind any trace of the person who once inhabited this body. That past self fades into oblivion—a mere wisp compared to the vibrant existence of Stolas, the Goetia demon turned regal human. He revels in the flickering city lights, a stage set for all his extravagant endeavors to come.
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
AI Prompts: 1
Post your own comment: