"Moonlit Coercion: The Curse of the Radio Demons"
2 Points
1
You groan, clutching at your throat where Alastor, the Radio Demon himself, had attacked you just days before. The wound, though healing, still aches with an unusual fire, like some malevolent spirit burrowing into your flesh. His last words echo in your mind, haunting your every waking moment: "It's only the beginning of the curse."
Every attempt to understand or to undo what was done has been futile. Medical professionals were baffled, family and friends left terrified, and you—left with time ticking away like a countdown to an ominous fate.
On the fifth night, as darkness descends and the moon begins to rise, an uneasy feeling settles within you. An insuppressible anxiety claws its way up your spine as you glance out the window. The full moon emerges from behind a curtain of clouds, its silvery light spilling into your room, painting everything in a cold, ethereal glow.
Your body convulses. It starts with sharp, white-hot pain coursing through every cell. You collapse, gasping for breath, unable to scream as your bones begin to twist and elongate. Muscles tear and knit themselves back together in a grotesque dance, rearranging and contorting into something—someone—new.
"Help me! Please!" you mentally scream, though no sound escapes your lips. Panic surges through your veins when you feel your thoughts, your very essence, begin to blur. Memories of your life, your identity, start to evaporate, replaced by a flood of unfamiliar images and desires.
Height increasing, you watch your own limbs become elongated, your torso slim but your shoulders broadening. Your eyes flicker to your reflection. Horror melds with fascination as you see your skin turning beige.
"No, this can’t be happening!" Your internal voice grows faint, replaced by a sinister chuckle that reverberates in your mind. You watch helplessly as antlers sprout from your head, your hair morphing into a pinkish-red bob-cut with black tips, twin tufts standing like deer ears.
Your voice changes next—deepening, distorting into that vintage radio static you recognize all too well. It forces its way out: "Splendid! The show must go on!"
You feel your mouth stretch into an unnaturally wide grin, filled with jagged, yellow teeth. But it’s not just your voice—it’s Alastor’s. It’s you.
You stand seven feet tall now, the transformation complete. The thoughts of your former self are distant whispers. You're dressed in an impeccable red pinstripe coat, black gloves, and a monocle perched over your right eye. Your own vintage-style microphone-tipped cane manifests in your clawed hand, adorned with an unblinking eye in the middle.
"Ah, much better! Now, let's commence the festivities!"
The original Alastor materializes beside you, his perpetual smile a mirror of your own. His mismatched eyes examine you with gleeful satisfaction. "Welcome, Were-Alastor! How does it feel to be reborn under the full moon?"
The new memories slot into place effortlessly. You know now that this is the true start of your eternal co-hosting partnership. You remember the original Alastor grinning down at his latest victim—his brother in demonic arms.
A shared, sinister laughter fills the room as both of you teleport effortlessly into the mortal realm. The moon casts an eerie glow over the city streets as you and Alastor begin your hunt, your eyes glowing crimson and your new powers eager for abuse.
He whispers conspiratorially to you, "This world is ours to enjoy. Shall we broadcast our reign of chaos?"
"Of course, brother. Let the mortals know the Radio Demons have returned," you reply, your voice echoing over the airwaves. With a flick of your wrist, you manipulate the shadows, dragging a hapless mortal into your grasp.
The hunt continues through the night until the first rays of sunlight appear. As morning breaks, the transformation reverses agonizingly, your body shrinking and reverting to its human form. But you're cursed with the knowledge that as soon as the moon becomes full again, Alastor would reclaim you, body and soul.
You collapse, exhausted, remembering nothing more than a vague sense of dread and the echo of Alastor's sinister laughter. The dawn brings temporary reprieve, but your nights are forever claimed.
"Until next time, brother," Alastor coos into the back of your consciousness, a chilling promise of your next shared nefarious escapade beneath the full moon.
Each cycle sees you becoming less of who you were and more of who he wants you to be. The mortal realm will soon know to fear the Radio Demons, for the curse is unbreakable, and the night always returns.
This story was generated by user MorningstarSon 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 mortal human reader being cursed and transformed in every full moon night into an identical twin brother of Alastor (from the adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), instant clothes change, age progression (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 his best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him completely forget about his past self and only remember being Alastor the Radio Demon). For the reader's WereAlastor/Were-Alastor appearance (after the reader turned into his identical twin brother every full moon night), he is identical to Alastor in every way, in height, proportions, appearance, deep and voice (sounding like it's coming from an old vintage radio), supernatural powers, personality, and preferences. He also has his own thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, being of the different color from Alastor's own sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, whilst also having an eye in the middle of the microphone, and the WereAlastor/Were-Alastor reader uses his microphone-tipped cane to play sound effects and broadcast his voice. For Alastor's appearance, 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 is completely hairless except for his eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on the side, back, and top of his head (like a human's). 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). For his personality, 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 manly voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent (always literally sound like he is talking through a vintage radio), 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. For Alastor's preferences, he likes/loves smiling, invading people's personal space, his mother and her cooking, the "picture show", strong liquor, cooking, people failing, playing pranks, black coffee, bitter tastes, theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, and venison; however, he dislikes being touched, dogs (possibly related to his death as a mortal human in 1933), frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, post-30s' technology, and anyone ruining his outfit. The story is that the reader has been cursed by being attacked by Alastor the Radio Demon himself, with Alastor biting the reader in the throat and ripping chunks of flesh, causing major blood loss (the reader however survives, just injured), before Alastor tells the reader it it's only the beginning of the curse. Just days later, at one night, when the moon is full (and after the reader sees the full moon), the reader undergoes a transformation. But he does not transform into a werewolf as he initially believes/thinks by the start of the transformation, instead, the reader transforms (against his will) completely into an identical clone of Alastor the Radio Demon, in both body and mind, every full moon night (the reader tries to fight back all the changes and call for help from his friend(s)/family, but to no avail), leaving the reader now completely transformed into Alastor (known to himself and the terrified humans as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor" (which Alastor also likes to call himself every full moon night after transforming from a mortal, even claiming to scared mortal humans that he is "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") due to transforming from a mortal boy every full moon night). The original Alastor, who had placed a curse on the reader just by biting the reader a few nights earlier, watches the transforming the reader and instantly befriends the new Alastor. The new Alastor, formerly the reader, now broadcasts throughout the mortal realm (Earth) alongside the original Alastor, with both the original Alastor and the new Alastor (known as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor") also killing and feasting on any mortal humans and their souls from the mortal world every night on Earth when the moon is full (the reader transforms back to a normal human when morning arrives, but the reader transforms back into the Were-Alastor when it's a full moon night again). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they are 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 groan, clutching at your throat where Alastor, the Radio Demon himself, had attacked you just days before. The wound, though healing, still aches with an unusual fire, like some malevolent spirit burrowing into your flesh. His last words echo in your mind, haunting your every waking moment: "It's only the beginning of the curse." Every attempt to understand or to undo what was done has been futile. Medical professionals were baffled, family and friends left terrified, and you—left with time ticking away like a countdown to an ominous fate. On the fifth night, as darkness descends and the moon begins to rise, an uneasy feeling settles within you. An insuppressible anxiety claws its way up your spine as you glance out the window. The full moon emerges from behind a curtain of clouds, its silvery light spilling into your room, painting everything in a cold, ethereal glow. Your body convulses. It starts with sharp, white-hot pain coursing through every cell. You collapse, gasping for breath, unable to scream as your bones begin to twist and elongate. Muscles tear and knit themselves back together in a grotesque dance, rearranging and contorting into something—someone—new. "Help me! Please!" you mentally scream, though no sound escapes your lips. Panic surges through your veins when you feel your thoughts, your very essence, begin to blur. Memories of your life, your identity, start to evaporate, replaced by a flood of unfamiliar images and desires. Height increasing, you watch your own limbs become elongated, your torso slim but your shoulders broadening. Your eyes flicker to your reflection. Horror melds with fascination as you see your skin turning beige. "No, this can’t be happening!" Your internal voice grows faint, replaced by a sinister chuckle that reverberates in your mind. You watch helplessly as antlers sprout from your head, your hair morphing into a pinkish-red bob-cut with black tips, twin tufts standing like deer ears. Your voice changes next—deepening, distorting into that vintage radio static you recognize all too well. It forces its way out: "Splendid! The show must go on!" You feel your mouth stretch into an unnaturally wide grin, filled with jagged, yellow teeth. But it’s not just your voice—it’s Alastor’s. It’s you. You stand seven feet tall now, the transformation complete. The thoughts of your former self are distant whispers. You're dressed in an impeccable red pinstripe coat, black gloves, and a monocle perched over your right eye. Your own vintage-style microphone-tipped cane manifests in your clawed hand, adorned with an unblinking eye in the middle. "Ah, much better! Now, let's commence the festivities!" The original Alastor materializes beside you, his perpetual smile a mirror of your own. His mismatched eyes examine you with gleeful satisfaction. "Welcome, Were-Alastor! How does it feel to be reborn under the full moon?" The new memories slot into place effortlessly. You know now that this is the true start of your eternal co-hosting partnership. You remember the original Alastor grinning down at his latest victim—his brother in demonic arms. A shared, sinister laughter fills the room as both of you teleport effortlessly into the mortal realm. The moon casts an eerie glow over the city streets as you and Alastor begin your hunt, your eyes glowing crimson and your new powers eager for abuse. He whispers conspiratorially to you, "This world is ours to enjoy. Shall we broadcast our reign of chaos?" "Of course, brother. Let the mortals know the Radio Demons have returned," you reply, your voice echoing over the airwaves. With a flick of your wrist, you manipulate the shadows, dragging a hapless mortal into your grasp. The hunt continues through the night until the first rays of sunlight appear. As morning breaks, the transformation reverses agonizingly, your body shrinking and reverting to its human form. But you're cursed with the knowledge that as soon as the moon becomes full again, Alastor would reclaim you, body and soul. You collapse, exhausted, remembering nothing more than a vague sense of dread and the echo of Alastor's sinister laughter. The dawn brings temporary reprieve, but your nights are forever claimed. "Until next time, brother," Alastor coos into the back of your consciousness, a chilling promise of your next shared nefarious escapade beneath the full moon. Each cycle sees you becoming less of who you were and more of who he wants you to be. The mortal realm will soon know to fear the Radio Demons, for the curse is unbreakable, and the night always returns.
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