"Twinning of Reader to Alastor's Twin Brother: Alastor's Requiem"
1 Points
It’s a lazy Saturday morning, your room still dim from the drawn curtains. You nudge the mouse to awaken your computer, a familiar glow illuminating the carefully curated chaos of your desk. Another day, another dive into the animated world of "Hazbin Hotel." Yet, something peculiar catches your eye on the screen—a bizarrely detailed new piece of fan art.
You click on it, your interest piqued. It's another transformation drawing, someone turning into Alastor once again. You’ve seen it a dozen times, and it never fails to amuse you. But today, there's a twitch in the back of your mind, a whisper of something... odd. A cold shiver crawls up your spine, and for a moment, you could swear you see Alastor’s grin widen beyond the boundaries of your screen.
Just as you dismiss the feeling, the lights flicker, and the radio in the corner—one you don't remember owning—crackles to life. "Ah, delightful! Always amusing to see one's likeness twisted and contorted like taffy," the voice resonates with an old-fashioned radio echo. "But the fun is starting to wear thin, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps it's time for a new form of entertainment."
Panic surges through you as the air thickens with unknowable dread. You scramble to stand, but phantom tendrils of shadow coil around your ankles, rooting you in place. Alastor's laughter fills the room, not just from the radio, but from everywhere, like he’s already seeped into your very bones.
"What’s happening?" you shout, your voice cracking with a mix of terror and defiance.
"Now, now," Alastor’s voice oozes from behind you. You turn, finding yourself face-to-face with the Radio Demon himself, towering, smiling that unsettling smile. "We can’t have you running away when the show's just beginning."
In an instant, you’re yanked from your world, the familiar surroundings dissolving into a swirling vortex of red and black. The ground vanishes beneath your feet, your entire being plummeting through an endless void. Colors flash and twist around you, and you feel your body stretching, bending, reshaping against your will.
“No! This can't be happening,” you think desperately, but your thoughts are quickly drowned by a torrent of foreign memories. Trolls of the early 20th century flood your mind—each moment clearer and more real than your own life. You fight against it, clawing to retain your identity, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands.
Your height shifts, soaring to a staggering 7 feet. Your skin pales and tightens, taking on an eerie, beige hue. You gasp, trying to scream, but find your voice has taken on that unsettling, radio-filtered quality. “Please, stop this,” you plead, though it comes out as an eerie echo, disconnected from the panic you feel.
Your clothes morph into a red pinstripe coat, every thread imbued with sinister elegance. The permanent smile carves itself into your face, your cheeks stretched to absurd lengths with rows of sharp, yellow teeth. No amount of effort can twist your lips into a frown; you’re trapped in this manic, eternal smile.
Dark thoughts seep into your mind, whispering in a voice overlapping your own. "You’ve always been Alastor. You and your twin brother were the terrors of the mortal and infernal realms alike. Remember?"
"No, no!" you scream internally, but the past washes over your memories. Instead of your childhood home and family, you recall the early 1900s, your once human form, your cruel exploits, and the day you and your brother perished, only to rise as Overlord demons in Hell.
"Good old Hell," you think, and the thought is suddenly comforting. But it shouldn't be.
Your memories of being Alastor solidify, subsuming who you were, who you presently are. You remember your brother, an identical being, not just in appearance but in every nuance of identity and monstrous ambition.
Your mind—no, Alastor’s mind—grows clear. It’s impossibly easy to embrace the malevolent glee of this horrific new life. The last remnants of resistance crumble, and you laugh, a deep, contagious chuckle that fills your entire being.
“This is who you are. This is who you’ve always been,” the voice concludes, and you don’t challenge it. You can’t. You are Alastor, the Radio Demon. A sinister thrill mingles with the final traces of your old self, leaving no room for doubt or mercy.
“Oh, brother,” another jaunty, radio-filtered voice calls from the shadows. The original Alastor steps into view, his identical grin mirroring yours. “Welcome back to our delightful domain.”
Together, you both laugh, a harmonious, eerie amusement that reverberates through Hell. You wished for entertainment, and now you are capable of stirring the darkest fun Hell has ever known. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve always been here, ruling, conspiring, and delighting in the chaos.
And the human you once were? That was just a fleeting, inconsequential dream.
This story was generated by user TyTyTyTyTi 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 the POV transformation story of the mortal 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), 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; the reader (now Alastor's twin brother) even remembers being one of the overlords of Hell alongside the original Alastor, his identical twin brother with the same mind and role and preferences, as well as remembering his previous mortal life as human Alastor along with his twin brother (also named "Alastor" who was also once a human from the early 20th century like the other Alastor), long before both of their human deaths at the same time and the two Alastors' arrival to Hell as identical twin sinner demons and soon enough as overlords)). 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 and permanent 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 comic with Alastor becoming Helsa von Eldritch (also from Hazbin Hotel), and a story with Alastor becoming an ant queen, to name a few), which he is getting sick and tired of, and Alastor views these stories and artwork as distasteful (since he doesn't like seeing himself transformed into a different being or creature against his will). 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 himself/herself to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle (the reader also tries to push or pull his/her permanent smile to a frown or any facial expression other than smiling but his/her face is forever stuck in a smile and the reader is both horrified and confused on why he/she can't stop smiling) and his/her mind is then completely replaced with Alastor's mind (the voice echoes in the reader's mind and confirms that the reader had never been a normal or mundane human on Earth and had always been Alastor the Radio Demon and he had always been one of the overlords of Hell along with the original Alastor, his identical twin brother with the same mind and role and preferences, as well as remembering his previous mortal life as human Alastor along with his twin brother (also named "Alastor" who was also once a human from the early 20th century like the other Alastor), long before both of their human deaths at the same time and the two Alastors' arrival to Hell as identical twin sinner demons and soon enough as overlords)). 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’s a lazy Saturday morning, your room still dim from the drawn curtains. You nudge the mouse to awaken your computer, a familiar glow illuminating the carefully curated chaos of your desk. Another day, another dive into the animated world of "Hazbin Hotel." Yet, something peculiar catches your eye on the screen—a bizarrely detailed new piece of fan art. You click on it, your interest piqued. It's another transformation drawing, someone turning into Alastor once again. You’ve seen it a dozen times, and it never fails to amuse you. But today, there's a twitch in the back of your mind, a whisper of something... odd. A cold shiver crawls up your spine, and for a moment, you could swear you see Alastor’s grin widen beyond the boundaries of your screen. Just as you dismiss the feeling, the lights flicker, and the radio in the corner—one you don't remember owning—crackles to life. "Ah, delightful! Always amusing to see one's likeness twisted and contorted like taffy," the voice resonates with an old-fashioned radio echo. "But the fun is starting to wear thin, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps it's time for a new form of entertainment." Panic surges through you as the air thickens with unknowable dread. You scramble to stand, but phantom tendrils of shadow coil around your ankles, rooting you in place. Alastor's laughter fills the room, not just from the radio, but from everywhere, like he’s already seeped into your very bones. "What’s happening?" you shout, your voice cracking with a mix of terror and defiance. "Now, now," Alastor’s voice oozes from behind you. You turn, finding yourself face-to-face with the Radio Demon himself, towering, smiling that unsettling smile. "We can’t have you running away when the show's just beginning." In an instant, you’re yanked from your world, the familiar surroundings dissolving into a swirling vortex of red and black. The ground vanishes beneath your feet, your entire being plummeting through an endless void. Colors flash and twist around you, and you feel your body stretching, bending, reshaping against your will. “No! This can't be happening,” you think desperately, but your thoughts are quickly drowned by a torrent of foreign memories. Trolls of the early 20th century flood your mind—each moment clearer and more real than your own life. You fight against it, clawing to retain your identity, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands. Your height shifts, soaring to a staggering 7 feet. Your skin pales and tightens, taking on an eerie, beige hue. You gasp, trying to scream, but find your voice has taken on that unsettling, radio-filtered quality. “Please, stop this,” you plead, though it comes out as an eerie echo, disconnected from the panic you feel. Your clothes morph into a red pinstripe coat, every thread imbued with sinister elegance. The permanent smile carves itself into your face, your cheeks stretched to absurd lengths with rows of sharp, yellow teeth. No amount of effort can twist your lips into a frown; you’re trapped in this manic, eternal smile. Dark thoughts seep into your mind, whispering in a voice overlapping your own. "You’ve always been Alastor. You and your twin brother were the terrors of the mortal and infernal realms alike. Remember?" "No, no!" you scream internally, but the past washes over your memories. Instead of your childhood home and family, you recall the early 1900s, your once human form, your cruel exploits, and the day you and your brother perished, only to rise as Overlord demons in Hell. "Good old Hell," you think, and the thought is suddenly comforting. But it shouldn't be. Your memories of being Alastor solidify, subsuming who you were, who you presently are. You remember your brother, an identical being, not just in appearance but in every nuance of identity and monstrous ambition. Your mind—no, Alastor’s mind—grows clear. It’s impossibly easy to embrace the malevolent glee of this horrific new life. The last remnants of resistance crumble, and you laugh, a deep, contagious chuckle that fills your entire being. “This is who you are. This is who you’ve always been,” the voice concludes, and you don’t challenge it. You can’t. You are Alastor, the Radio Demon. A sinister thrill mingles with the final traces of your old self, leaving no room for doubt or mercy. “Oh, brother,” another jaunty, radio-filtered voice calls from the shadows. The original Alastor steps into view, his identical grin mirroring yours. “Welcome back to our delightful domain.” Together, you both laugh, a harmonious, eerie amusement that reverberates through Hell. You wished for entertainment, and now you are capable of stirring the darkest fun Hell has ever known. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve always been here, ruling, conspiring, and delighting in the chaos. And the human you once were? That was just a fleeting, inconsequential dream.
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