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"Transformation in Hell: Becoming Moxxie"

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You weren’t particularly sure how you ended up on that small, obscure corner of the internet, but the transformation comic titled "A Lesson in Manners - TF TG" intrigued you enough to seek out more fan art and stories. Helluva Boss tickled an impish fascination in you, its unique blend of humor and darkness quite irresistible. One evening, your search had taken you deeper into the Hell online fandom than ever before.

Suddenly, a strange, ancient-looking parchment appeared on your screen. Its header read, "Application for Supernatural Transformation." A form where you could craft your fantasies of becoming your favorite character from Helluva Boss. You chuckled, deciding to humor the inexplicable webpage.

Your eyes scanned the details of the original application, copying the line, "These clothes don't suit a proper assassin. He must have an elegant suit." for fun. You added, "Where are the horns? Can't be an imp without them." before tossing in, "Why doesn't he have a tail? He is an imp after all, so he should have a tail." Just to test the waters, you continued with, "Imps aren't this tall. Must make him smaller since he is a true imp.", and wrapped it all up with, "Can't have mortal memories plague this imp; he's better off with knowledge of weaponry…and his true home in Hell."

You barely hit 'Enter' when a bright flash enveloped your room. You blinked, the glare blinding you momentarily. When your vision cleared, a tingling sensation swept over you.

Your shirt suddenly felt restrictive, your jeans tightening too much around your legs. A clawed finger poked through the sleeve of your shirt, followed by another and another until your old clothes shredded in an instant, replaced by a navy-black coat with red buttons, a crisp white shirt, and fingerless gloves. The mirror across the room reflected back an elegant imp assassin, the bow-tie at your neck stark against your red skin.

Confused, you reached up to touch your face. Your fingers brushed against the coarse texture of reptilian skin. "These clothes don't suit a proper assassin. He must have an elegant suit." whispered through your mind, as if someone had planted it there.

Your nails scratched the smooth expanse of your face. Your cheeks felt thicker, distant from the sharp-cut planes of human cheekbones. Your hair transformed into sharp white points leading up to black and white striped horns. Human hair fell to your feet, replaced by curling horned structures springing forth from your head.

A wave of vertigo seized you, forcing you to clutch the door frame. As you stabilized yourself, your pupils began shrinking into papery slits within golden scleras, no longer the round eyes of a human. "Where are the horns? Can't be an imp without them." lingered in your mind.

Your eyes widened, settling no longer on human-comprehensible scales, but the recognizable slant of an imp’s vision.

Your feet jerked back as the floor seemed to encroach. You toppled over…slamming onto hoofed feet with grotesque, satisfying clops. Now, only 3.9 feet tall, you blinked dumbfounded. "Imps aren't this tall. Must make him smaller since he is a true imp." echoed poignantly.

Your backbone shifted next, a serpentine shiver rushing up to the base of your skull. You fell forward onto what now felt like a tail, squirming as the thin appendage flapped uselessly, then settled, swinging freely behind you. You let a tremulous sigh escape, unwittingly acknowledging, "Why doesn't he have a tail? He is an imp after all, so he should have a tail."

No sooner had you processed the profound physical ramifications upon your body, did your mind rebel with a spasm of resistance. But it took less effort than you hoped to replace every inkling of your human past with knowledge intricately detailed into everything Moxxie. To your liking, human memories dwindled, replaced by innate weapon genius, delicate culinary preferences, theatrical enthusiasm, your cherished wife Millie, childhood tales, your complex relationship with Blitzo… Your grip on your humanity was slipping beyond saving. The phrase "Can't have mortal memories plague this imp, he is better off with knowledge of weaponry." came resonating stronger in your consciousness.

"And now for this imp's real age, gender, birthplace, preferences, and few other details." roared out as your vision blackened, only to reopen to a harsher, more familiar Hellish landscape. The skyline echoed with the cries and clamor remembered distinctly by someone like Moxxie.

You heard footsteps approaching, and Moxxie’s figure appeared, “There you are. Been looking everywhere for you, bro,” he chimed casually.

You blinked, thinking, *Bro?* Before the realization sparked familiarity. "Oh right, Moxxie. Didn’t mean to wander off," the words slipped effortlessly in your own voice; the fullest truth to your ears.

Moxxie held you by the shoulders, reassuringly, “Guess I owe thanks to whatever brought you back to Hell, this is certainly where you belong.”

Nodding appreciatively, you looked up at him, confusion diminishing with overwhelming certainty, "Thank you, really. I feel... more like myself again."

A knowing grin spread across Moxxie's face, “Welcome home, brother. Let’s catch up inside. Millie’s just dying to see you!” 

As you headed to your shared, hellish quarters, your new, genuine life unraveled perfectly naturally. Human mortality faded into distant, irretrievable whispers.

And you? You were Moxxie.

This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli6 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 human reader completely turning into an identical clone of Moxxie (from an adults cartoon/animated series Helluva Boss), complete with art style shift (the reader now being in a cartoon world of the Helluva Boss series, and the reader now becoming a cartoon character with the same art style as the other Helluva Boss characters, rather than being a real life person), gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change, height regression (shrinking from an average 5.7-6 foot height to only 3.9 feet tall), reality change (the reader's real world becoming the world of Helluva Boss), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Moxxie'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 human, even completely forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds ago and completely forgetting that he was in the reader's human world a moment ago, and only remembered ever being a male imp and a husband to Millie, always being an imp named Moxxie). For Moxxie's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), he is an imp with red skin and white freckles on his cheeks, and he is shorter than Blitzo since he is 3.9 feet tall. Like all imps, he has a short reptilian-looking snout filled with white sharp teeth and without a nose, as well as having four fingered hands (instead of five as in humans), and he lacks any visible ears. His white pointy hair leads up to his curvy black and white striped horns. He also has yellow sclera with black slit pupils. Moxxie has a long red thin devil-like imp tail with a quadrilateral barb at the end, as well as lanky digitigrade legs ending in what appears to be cloven red hoofed feet, reminiscent of artiodactyls. Moxxie's usual outfit consists of a navy-black coat with red buttons and white cuffs, black toe-less pants a white shirt that has a black turtleneck, a large red bow-tie, and fingerless gloves. Moxxie is the I.M.P's weapon specialist; and as such, has a vast knowledge of weapons and often brings a variety of them along during jobs. For Moxxie's personality, he is often the most vocal and realistic of the employees (his boss is Blitzo) regarding the company as a whole despite its dysfunctional environment and is bullied consequently. He is also shown to be insured about himself since he’s not physically strong since Striker, Lin and Joe was giving him a hard time since they believe physical strength is what makes a person strong. Moreover, he is an imp who is easily annoyed and rather clumsy, as he trips over their ritualistic book on the way through the portal to the living world. Despite being a murder-for-hire imp, it seems Moxxie is queasy with unnecessary killing beyond their targets. He also is uncomfortable with the idea of killing targets who have families, and attempts to give people second chances. Moxxie is also shown to have a comical side, as when he talks about killing an entire family, he claims it might be alright if it was just a bad dad or a mob family, saying "That's understandable" in an accent. For Moxxie's preferences (likes and dislikes); he likes cooking, culinary arts, musical theater, classical music, opera, his mother's kindness, being put in charge of missions, and Blitzo's approval as his boss. However, Moxxie dislikes Blitzo prying into his personal life, theme parks, theme park mascots, killing the innocent, pop music, Stolas' wrath, his father's (Crimson) abuse, Loona calling him fat, being the butt of the joke, and Millie stealing his spotlight. The story is that Moxxie got upset and mutters over seeing a fan-made transformation 3-part comic (titled "A lesson in manners - TF TG", coming in part 1, part 2, and part 3) from online, which had him transformed into a 52 year old (5.6 foot tall) human woman in both body and mind by the same identical woman with an application paper (which this comic was made by a random DeviantArt user with a username "tf-plaza") since he hates seeing himself being forcibly transformed, so as payback, Moxxie (while still in Hell in the world of Helluva Boss) has an idea that he wants to do and he then rewrites the the human reader's application (on a work paper which he had found from I.M.P's office area somewhere) from the human reader (who is still in the real world until the transformation occurs) and completely changes the application to fully match Moxxie's, causing the reader (who is fully unaware of Moxxie doing all of this) to feel tingly and he starts to completely transform (with each detail from the application describing the reader not having any human clothes or human anatomy and instead having impish features), with each detail being said while the transformation is happening. After all that, and when the human reader is now completely Moxxie in form, he then feels his human personality and memories completely fading away, making the reader dizzy, as Moxxie's personality and memories completely replaces the reader's old ones (the application that Moxxie is writing also describes that), and the reader (now fully Moxxie) was confused on what was he thinking, and he was happy about being an imp named Moxxie. Finalizing everything, Moxxie then writes down the reader's new (or rather true) birthplace in Hell, and being the identical twin brother of Moxxie, causing the reader's reality to completely and fully warp/morph into Moxxie's home (where Moxxie and Millie live) somewhere in Hell as depicted in Helluva Boss, and the reader, who is now fully unaware of his previous human life or home, is happy about not being in the reader's old human home (which he is now fully unaware and unfamiliar of ever living in) and he is now truly familiar with his home in Hell with his brother Moxxie (the original one). After all that, Moxxie explains to the reader that the reader (who is the second Moxxie) has been fixed and brought back to where he belongs (with the original Moxxie in Hell), and explains to the reader that he has been missing for a while; the reader (the second Moxxie) is happy to hear that, and he is grateful for Moxxie and thanks Moxxie for saving the reader (the second Moxxie), with Moxxie (who says that he should be thanking the reader for having his brother (the reader) home with him for the first time since a while), before both the reader and Moxxie comes into Moxxie's home in relief and spend time together being affectionate brothers who care deeply for each other. The transformation is permanent (meaning that it is forever) and is completely irreversible. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader and Moxxie, as well as quotes from each application details that Moxxie writes) so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. The application details written by Moxxie (not seen by the reader, but silently heard by the reader) would say various contradictory details of the reader's self, body and life; for example but not limited to these quotes, one detail, when the reader's clothes change, would say that "These clothes don't suit a proper assassin. He must have an elegant suit.", and when the reader's hair changes and when he's growing tall horns, that another detail says that "Where are the horns? Can't be an imp without them.", and when the reader is growing a devil-like imp tail, would say that "Why doesn't he have a tail? He is an imp after all, so he should have a tail.", then while the reader is shrinking to just 3.9 feet tall, this other details says that "Imps aren't this tall. Must make him smaller since he is a true imp.", while during the reader's mind/mental change, would say that "Can't have mortal memories plague this imp, he is better off with knowledge of weaponry.", and finally, when the reader's reality literally changes into Hell as depicted from Helluva Boss, the last detail says that "And now for this imp's real age, gender, birthplace, preferences, and few other details.". 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 weren’t particularly sure how you ended up on that small, obscure corner of the internet, but the transformation comic titled "A Lesson in Manners - TF TG" intrigued you enough to seek out more fan art and stories. Helluva Boss tickled an impish fascination in you, its unique blend of humor and darkness quite irresistible. One evening, your search had taken you deeper into the Hell online fandom than ever before. Suddenly, a strange, ancient-looking parchment appeared on your screen. Its header read, "Application for Supernatural Transformation." A form where you could craft your fantasies of becoming your favorite character from Helluva Boss. You chuckled, deciding to humor the inexplicable webpage. Your eyes scanned the details of the original application, copying the line, "These clothes don't suit a proper assassin. He must have an elegant suit." for fun. You added, "Where are the horns? Can't be an imp without them." before tossing in, "Why doesn't he have a tail? He is an imp after all, so he should have a tail." Just to test the waters, you continued with, "Imps aren't this tall. Must make him smaller since he is a true imp.", and wrapped it all up with, "Can't have mortal memories plague this imp; he's better off with knowledge of weaponry…and his true home in Hell." You barely hit 'Enter' when a bright flash enveloped your room. You blinked, the glare blinding you momentarily. When your vision cleared, a tingling sensation swept over you. Your shirt suddenly felt restrictive, your jeans tightening too much around your legs. A clawed finger poked through the sleeve of your shirt, followed by another and another until your old clothes shredded in an instant, replaced by a navy-black coat with red buttons, a crisp white shirt, and fingerless gloves. The mirror across the room reflected back an elegant imp assassin, the bow-tie at your neck stark against your red skin. Confused, you reached up to touch your face. Your fingers brushed against the coarse texture of reptilian skin. "These clothes don't suit a proper assassin. He must have an elegant suit." whispered through your mind, as if someone had planted it there. Your nails scratched the smooth expanse of your face. Your cheeks felt thicker, distant from the sharp-cut planes of human cheekbones. Your hair transformed into sharp white points leading up to black and white striped horns. Human hair fell to your feet, replaced by curling horned structures springing forth from your head. A wave of vertigo seized you, forcing you to clutch the door frame. As you stabilized yourself, your pupils began shrinking into papery slits within golden scleras, no longer the round eyes of a human. "Where are the horns? Can't be an imp without them." lingered in your mind. Your eyes widened, settling no longer on human-comprehensible scales, but the recognizable slant of an imp’s vision. Your feet jerked back as the floor seemed to encroach. You toppled over…slamming onto hoofed feet with grotesque, satisfying clops. Now, only 3.9 feet tall, you blinked dumbfounded. "Imps aren't this tall. Must make him smaller since he is a true imp." echoed poignantly. Your backbone shifted next, a serpentine shiver rushing up to the base of your skull. You fell forward onto what now felt like a tail, squirming as the thin appendage flapped uselessly, then settled, swinging freely behind you. You let a tremulous sigh escape, unwittingly acknowledging, "Why doesn't he have a tail? He is an imp after all, so he should have a tail." No sooner had you processed the profound physical ramifications upon your body, did your mind rebel with a spasm of resistance. But it took less effort than you hoped to replace every inkling of your human past with knowledge intricately detailed into everything Moxxie. To your liking, human memories dwindled, replaced by innate weapon genius, delicate culinary preferences, theatrical enthusiasm, your cherished wife Millie, childhood tales, your complex relationship with Blitzo… Your grip on your humanity was slipping beyond saving. The phrase "Can't have mortal memories plague this imp, he is better off with knowledge of weaponry." came resonating stronger in your consciousness. "And now for this imp's real age, gender, birthplace, preferences, and few other details." roared out as your vision blackened, only to reopen to a harsher, more familiar Hellish landscape. The skyline echoed with the cries and clamor remembered distinctly by someone like Moxxie. You heard footsteps approaching, and Moxxie’s figure appeared, “There you are. Been looking everywhere for you, bro,” he chimed casually. You blinked, thinking, *Bro?* Before the realization sparked familiarity. "Oh right, Moxxie. Didn’t mean to wander off," the words slipped effortlessly in your own voice; the fullest truth to your ears. Moxxie held you by the shoulders, reassuringly, “Guess I owe thanks to whatever brought you back to Hell, this is certainly where you belong.” Nodding appreciatively, you looked up at him, confusion diminishing with overwhelming certainty, "Thank you, really. I feel... more like myself again." A knowing grin spread across Moxxie's face, “Welcome home, brother. Let’s catch up inside. Millie’s just dying to see you!”  As you headed to your shared, hellish quarters, your new, genuine life unraveled perfectly naturally. Human mortality faded into distant, irretrievable whispers. And you? You were Moxxie.

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