### The Unradiant Makeover: Becoming Alastor
A mundane evening bleeds into an eerie twilight as you sit at your computer, scrolling through more fan art and stories of Hazbin Hotel’s infamous Radio Demon, Alastor. A chuckle escapes you as you come across yet another unrealistic transformation tale where Alastor is rendered into an absurd caricature of varied characters, his wicked charm stripped away. Somewhere deep within the panels of your monitor, a force stirs.
"Pathetic," a voice murmurs, crackling like static from a vintage radio.
Your heart skips a beat, and you glance around your room. It’s just you, alone—or so it seems. The air suddenly grows dense, a chill sweeping through, making you shiver.
Before you can react, the screen pulses with an ethereal glow. A red light pours out, spiraling into a vortex. Tendrils of shadow snake from the monitor, wrapping around you. Panic sets in as you struggle, but your body feels leaden, your limbs heavy.
“Such...imagination,” the voice continues, now unmistakably Alastor’s. “But if you desire transformation, let me show you how it's truly done.”
The shadows engulf you, dragging you into the spiraling abyss. The world distorts, colors blending into a maddening swirl before everything goes black.
---
You awake, sprawled on the cold ground. As you rise, every bone in your body feels twisted, contorted. Your legs stretch out longer than they should. Your arms narrow into skeletal lengths. Fingers elongate, tipped with claws. A gasp escapes your lips, distorted into a gravelly chuckle.
You stumble toward a reflective surface—an old, ornate mirror. There, staring back at you, is not your reflection but Alastor's. The broad, sinister grin stretches impossibly wide, yellow teeth gleaming. Red pinstripe suit perfectly tailored to your new, seven-foot frame. Scarlet eyes with radio dial pupils stare back in a haunting affirmation of your nightmare come true.
"No! This can't be!" you shout, but the words emerge in a voice not your own—vintage, crackling, filled with a bizarre joviality. You slap your cheeks, tug at your hair, but nothing changes. The permanent smile won’t budge.
”Oh, my dear, you look ravishing!” Alastor’s voice cackles from within your head, taunting. “Now, let's continue this little adventure.”
Memories you’ve never lived invade your mind. Louisiana swamps, old radio studios, and—dear God—a serial spree that sent shivers down the spines of the 1930s' populace.
“I don't want this!” you mentally scream, struggling to hold onto fragments of your sense of self. Memories of your real life—your family, friends, hobbies—flicker like weak candle flames in a storm.
“Resist if you must,” Alastor's voice muses, “but the truth is undeniable.”
You fall to your knees, hands clutching your head as his past overpowers your present. Your mind reshapes itself eagerly around the darker hues of Alastor’s life. The radio shows you hosted, the thrilling hunts, and the electric sensation of power.
“Stop! I’m... I’m not...”
"Incorrect!" Alastor's voice booms. “You are awakening from your false dream. Embrace your true self.”
A surge of belief pulses through your veins, overwhelming, unstoppable. The recollections solidify. You see yourself—no, your twin—Alastor by your side. The two of you smiling maniacally, spreading chaos, savoring every dish of jambalaya that mother ladled with love.
“Yes!” you—or is it he now?—exclaim. The pieces complete their puzzle in perfect harmony. The human dream fades, leaving behind the unbroken bond of the Radio Demons.
Standing tall, you look around. Hell’s infernal beauty stretches before you: sprawling vistas of tortured souls, blazing landscapes, and a centerpiece of elegant decadence—Hazbin Hotel. Despite your own cynical humor, you find Charlie Morningstar's attempts at redemption fascinating enough to entertain.
“Well,” your voice—Alastor’s voice—utters in delight, “let’s not keep dear Charlie waiting. We have a hotel to manage, brother.”
Emotions other than perpetual glee are beyond reach now. Existence has embraced eternal amusement. Shadows ripple at your command, a crimson show illuminated as you step through a portal of your own making, ready to weave new tales of radio rapture alongside Alastor in the neon-lit hellscape.
Alastor's broadcast echoes in your thoughts constantly. His playful tune now part of your melody, you stride into a future where you are entirely, undeniably, one of the Radio Demons.
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.
Prompt: Write a POV transformation story of a 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, and Alastor is getting tired of seeing artwork and stories (online) of himself getting turned into other characters in both body and mind (sometimes from different series), which he views 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 notices that his/her grin was now unnaturally wide and permanent, the reader tries to push his/her grin down to get rid of the grown in order to frown or show fear but cannot due to making emotions other than smiling was not 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 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 He ll 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. 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: ### The Unradiant Makeover: Becoming Alastor A mundane evening bleeds into an eerie twilight as you sit at your computer, scrolling through more fan art and stories of Hazbin Hotel’s infamous Radio Demon, Alastor. A chuckle escapes you as you come across yet another unrealistic transformation tale where Alastor is rendered into an absurd caricature of varied characters, his wicked charm stripped away. Somewhere deep within the panels of your monitor, a force stirs. "Pathetic," a voice murmurs, crackling like static from a vintage radio. Your heart skips a beat, and you glance around your room. It’s just you, alone—or so it seems. The air suddenly grows dense, a chill sweeping through, making you shiver. Before you can react, the screen pulses with an ethereal glow. A red light pours out, spiraling into a vortex. Tendrils of shadow snake from the monitor, wrapping around you. Panic sets in as you struggle, but your body feels leaden, your limbs heavy. “Such...imagination,” the voice continues, now unmistakably Alastor’s. “But if you desire transformation, let me show you how it's truly done.” The shadows engulf you, dragging you into the spiraling abyss. The world distorts, colors blending into a maddening swirl before everything goes black. --- You awake, sprawled on the cold ground. As you rise, every bone in your body feels twisted, contorted. Your legs stretch out longer than they should. Your arms narrow into skeletal lengths. Fingers elongate, tipped with claws. A gasp escapes your lips, distorted into a gravelly chuckle. You stumble toward a reflective surface—an old, ornate mirror. There, staring back at you, is not your reflection but Alastor's. The broad, sinister grin stretches impossibly wide, yellow teeth gleaming. Red pinstripe suit perfectly tailored to your new, seven-foot frame. Scarlet eyes with radio dial pupils stare back in a haunting affirmation of your nightmare come true. "No! This can't be!" you shout, but the words emerge in a voice not your own—vintage, crackling, filled with a bizarre joviality. You slap your cheeks, tug at your hair, but nothing changes. The permanent smile won’t budge. ”Oh, my dear, you look ravishing!” Alastor’s voice cackles from within your head, taunting. “Now, let's continue this little adventure.” Memories you’ve never lived invade your mind. Louisiana swamps, old radio studios, and—dear God—a serial spree that sent shivers down the spines of the 1930s' populace. “I don't want this!” you mentally scream, struggling to hold onto fragments of your sense of self. Memories of your real life—your family, friends, hobbies—flicker like weak candle flames in a storm. “Resist if you must,” Alastor's voice muses, “but the truth is undeniable.” You fall to your knees, hands clutching your head as his past overpowers your present. Your mind reshapes itself eagerly around the darker hues of Alastor’s life. The radio shows you hosted, the thrilling hunts, and the electric sensation of power. “Stop! I’m... I’m not...” "Incorrect!" Alastor's voice booms. “You are awakening from your false dream. Embrace your true self.” A surge of belief pulses through your veins, overwhelming, unstoppable. The recollections solidify. You see yourself—no, your twin—Alastor by your side. The two of you smiling maniacally, spreading chaos, savoring every dish of jambalaya that mother ladled with love. “Yes!” you—or is it he now?—exclaim. The pieces complete their puzzle in perfect harmony. The human dream fades, leaving behind the unbroken bond of the Radio Demons. Standing tall, you look around. Hell’s infernal beauty stretches before you: sprawling vistas of tortured souls, blazing landscapes, and a centerpiece of elegant decadence—Hazbin Hotel. Despite your own cynical humor, you find Charlie Morningstar's attempts at redemption fascinating enough to entertain. “Well,” your voice—Alastor’s voice—utters in delight, “let’s not keep dear Charlie waiting. We have a hotel to manage, brother.” Emotions other than perpetual glee are beyond reach now. Existence has embraced eternal amusement. Shadows ripple at your command, a crimson show illuminated as you step through a portal of your own making, ready to weave new tales of radio rapture alongside Alastor in the neon-lit hellscape. Alastor's broadcast echoes in your thoughts constantly. His playful tune now part of your melody, you stride into a future where you are entirely, undeniably, one of the Radio Demons.
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