The Rise of Crimson: A Malevolent Transformation into Crimson (TF/MC)
2 Points
3
**Transformation into Crimson**
You're strolling through your neighborhood park, enjoying the serenity and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the evening breeze. The sky begins to turn a bright blend of orange and red as the sun sets. Everything seems ordinary, but an unsettling thought nags at the back of your mind. You brush it off, attributing the sensation to fatigue.
Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain radiating through your body, as if every cell is being twisted and reshaped. Your vision blurs, then darkens. You feel yourself shrinking, your 5'7" frame receding. Every inch lost feels arduous, every twitch excruciating. A twinge, a shiver, and before you know it, you're no taller than 5'3".
You want to scream, but the pain in your throat makes it impossible. Your arms and legs contort, flesh morphing into a deep shade of red, as white irregular markings form around your eyes, in which the sclera has turn yellow, while the irises within them vanish and the pupils becoming sinister slit-shaped ones. You felt pain coming from within your shoes as, underneath, your feet contorts into cloven-hoofed feet, while they remain plantigrade. You desperately glance at your hands; your fingers are clawed. Pain erupts from your skull as a pair of large and curvy black-and-white striped horns emerge on your head, while your hair bleached itself to white and restyles itself. Shocked, you notice every single tooth sharpens into fangs, and one turns golden, as your mouth pushes out slightly into a short reptilian-esque snout. A tail unfurls behind you, crooked and tipped with white accents.
"What... what is happening to me?" Your voice is a mere whisper, swallowed by the violent transformation.
Your clothes transform instantly, adopting a startling new design. In place of your casual outfit, a red high-collar shirt and navy blue coat appear adorned with light blue accents and red stripes. Matching dark blue pants fit snugly around your new, plantigrade legs, extending down to hooved feet covered by red-heeled dress shoes. A black fedora with a red and white band rests atop your now-white hair.
You look around, realizing the park is gone. The familiar trees and benches have been replaced by an unfamiliar, menacing cityscape. Helluva Boss's world. Panic surges as you feel reality warping, but there's no time to dwell on the impossibility.
"Where am I?" You mutter to yourself. The words now carry an ominous undertone, a guttural quality unfamiliar to your ears.
The scenery isn't the only thing changing. Inside your head, memories that aren't your own begin to overwhelm your true past. Moments of terror, violence, and authority flood your mind, displacing memories of family, friends, and all that binds you to your former life.
"No, this isn't me!" You resist, gripping your temples, trying to hold onto your identity. But, piece by piece, it unravels.
A sinister voice replaces your own thoughts, each one dripping with malice. "I've always been Crimson," you think as an image of a cowering Moxxie fills your mind.
"No! Moxxie... my son... is a disgrace," you correct, the involuntary mental shift turning love to hate in a heartbeat. As much as you fight, the new persona asserts itself.
The shift completes with chilling clarity. You stand up straighter, a wicked smile curling your lips. "Only good for nothing," you mutter, disgusted. Memories of ruling the mafia, abusing trust, and cultivating fear solidify like bricks in your mind. The reader is gone. Completely. Forever.
You gaze upon the shark-demon minions before you, eager to heed your command. The transformation is absolute. You revel in your control, your ruthlessness, the very essence of Crimson.
With a sharp inhale, you ignite a cigar, smoke swirling around you. Moxxie, Blitzo, Millie — they all become passing thoughts, pawns in your unyielding game.
A cruel smile spreads as you murmur, "Ain't nothing gonna stop me now."
Crimson's world is now yours. And you've become its fearsome ruler.
This story was generated by user JesterImps2 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 Crimson (from the adults cartoon/animated series "Helluva Boss", made by Vivienne "VivziePop" Medrano), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change (the reader's clothes instantly turning into Crimson's outfit), age change, height regression (changing from the reader's previous 5.7-6 foot height to 5.3 feet tall), reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Helluva Boss), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Crimson's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting these mental changes, making the reader permanently and completely forget about his past self as a normal human, he now only remembers being an imp and a mafia leader named Crimson). The transformation into Crimson is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. For Crimson's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), he is a quite tall imp demon, standing closer in height to Blitzo (about 5.3 feet tall, rather than being 3.9 feet tall unlike his son Moxxie), with white hair, black and white striped horns, and yellow sclera. Around his eyes are white markings, with the right being larger than the left. He possesses a crooked and bent tail with white accents near the base and on the middle of his tail fork. His appearance is similar to his son Moxxie, with similar hair and shape of his horns, however larger and slightly more jagged. Unlike his son (Moxxie), Crimson's skin is a darker shade of red and his legs appear to be plantigrade (like a human's), rather than digitigrade, but still have red cloven hooves (unlike human feet). He also has short-clawed fingers on his hands. All of Crimson's teeth are sharp fangs, while one of his fangs is a golden fang unlike the other teeth (which are white). Crimson's attire consists of a red high-collar shirt that grips his neck, topped by a navy blue coat with light blue accents, thin red stripes, red buttons, and red lining. His pants are dark blue which also have thin red stripes, and his shoes are black and red-heeled dress shoes. He also wears a black fedora with a red and white band. For Crimson's personality, he is a vicious and extremely ruthless crime boss that controls a large army of shark-like demon gangsters. He is shown to have been horrifically abusive towards Moxxie since his childhood, constantly levying physical and psychological abuse towards Moxxie, and by extension his wife. He cultivates an aura of fear in those that know him, even towards his own family members and close associates like Moxxie and Chazwick. Ultimately, his greed and power come first to him, and he harbors no remorse for his victims. This comes to the point that he appears mentally prepared to kill blood-related family members, such as his wife and Moxxie, to advance his personal goals. Despite this, he is capable of exhibiting a seemingly jovial, warm, happy, and even charismatic presence when he chooses to do so, such as during his initial meeting with Blitzo and Millie, or during moments when he feels comfortable. However, he can be quick to discard this external display of affection as required. Crimson is extremely prejudiced, having demonstrated to be chauvinistic and sexist towards women, as well as homophobic of his son's orientation. He would often refer to Millie as being a dame, broad, beard, and other similarly negative terminologies. He displays a lack of knowledge regarding concepts of sexuality, believing Moxxie's statement of being bisexual to simply mean he is homosexual, with Crimson disregarding his son's bisexuality and claiming he is simply gay and hiding that by marrying a woman, as claimed by his declaration of Millie being merely a "beard" for Moxxie. He furthermore holds bizarre beliefs as to what kind of home décor and wedding decorations/dresses homosexuals enjoy, such as decorating his home with a wide array of dildos in an attempt to placate Moxxie and forcing his son to wear a dress while forcibly attempting to marry him off. Here are Crimson's preferences (likes and dislikes); he likes smoking, monetary gain, organized crime, mistreating Moxxie, and hanging body parts of his victims as house decorations. However, he dislikes Moxxie's compassion and bisexuality, sentimental topics, his son or minions failing him, the state of his mafia, anyone who double-crosses him, anyone lesser than him, and anyone talking back to him. 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: **Transformation into Crimson** You're strolling through your neighborhood park, enjoying the serenity and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the evening breeze. The sky begins to turn a bright blend of orange and red as the sun sets. Everything seems ordinary, but an unsettling thought nags at the back of your mind. You brush it off, attributing the sensation to fatigue. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain radiating through your body, as if every cell is being twisted and reshaped. Your vision blurs, then darkens. You feel yourself shrinking, your 5'7" frame receding. Every inch lost feels arduous, every twitch excruciating. A twinge, a shiver, and before you know it, you're no taller than 5'3". You want to scream, but the pain in your throat makes it impossible. Your arms and legs contort, flesh morphing into a deep shade of red. You desperately glance at your hands; your fingers are clawed. Shocked, you notice every single tooth sharpens into fangs, and one turns golden. A tail unfurls behind you, crooked and tipped with white accents. "What... what is happening to me?" Your voice is a mere whisper, swallowed by the violent transformation. Your clothes transform instantly, adopting a startling new design. In place of your casual outfit, a red high-collar shirt and navy blue coat appear adorned with light blue accents and red stripes. Matching dark blue pants fit snugly around your new, plantigrade legs, extending down to hooved feet covered by red-heeled dress shoes. A black fedora with a red and white band rests atop your now-white hair. You look around, realizing the park is gone. The familiar trees and benches have been replaced by an unfamiliar, menacing cityscape. Helluva Boss's world. Panic surges as you feel reality warping, but there's no time to dwell on the impossibility. "Where am I?" You mutter to yourself. The words now carry an ominous undertone, a guttural quality unfamiliar to your ears. The scenery isn't the only thing changing. Inside your head, memories that aren't your own begin to overwhelm your true past. Moments of terror, violence, and authority flood your mind, displacing memories of family, friends, and all that binds you to your former life. "No, this isn't me!" You resist, gripping your temples, trying to hold onto your identity. But, piece by piece, it unravels. A sinister voice replaces your own thoughts, each one dripping with malice. "I've always been Crimson," you think as an image of a cowering Moxxie fills your mind. "No! Moxxie... my son... is a disgrace," you correct, the involuntary mental shift turning love to hate in a heartbeat. As much as you fight, the new persona asserts itself. The shift completes with chilling clarity. You stand up straighter, a wicked smile curling your lips. "Only good for nothing," you mutter, disgusted. Memories of ruling the mafia, abusing trust, and cultivating fear solidify like bricks in your mind. The reader is gone. Completely. Forever. You gaze upon the shark-demon minions before you, eager to heed your command. The transformation is absolute. You revel in your control, your ruthlessness, the very essence of Crimson. With a sharp inhale, you ignite a cigar, smoke swirling around you. Moxxie, Blitzo, Millie — they all become passing thoughts, pawns in your unyielding game. A cruel smile spreads as you murmur, "Ain't nothing gonna stop me now." Crimson's world is now yours. And you've become its fearsome ruler.
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