Your footsteps echo softly on the moonlit path as you wander through the wooded area near your home. The serene night holds an eerie calm, punctuated only by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. It's a night like any other—or so you think, until a chilling voice interrupts your peace.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice reverberates through the air, emanating an unsettling quality as if it's coming from an old vintage radio. You whirl around to face the source, your heart pounding in your chest.
Before you stands a figure nearly seven feet tall, with a slim, unnaturally thin torso dressed in an elegant red pinstripe coat. His face is dominated by an unnaturally broad smile, sharp yellow teeth visible, and dark-red sclerae within bright-red eyes that fixate on you with a chilling intensity. This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, a sinister aura radiating from him.
"Who—no, what are you?" you stammer, your voice wavering with fear.
He steps closer, and in an instant, he's upon you, his movements a blur. You feel a sharp pain as his teeth sink into your throat, your scream cut short by the blood gushing from the wound.
"You'll find out soon enough," his voice whispers in your ear, laced with dark amusement. He withdraws, licking the blood from his lips, and looks down at you as you crumple to the ground, the darkness closing in around you.
---
Days later, you're trying to forget the harrowing encounter in the woods, the bite on your throat now a ragged scar. But deep inside, you know something is wrong. As night falls, an unshakable dread settles over you.
When the full moon rises, you feel it—a sudden, overwhelming force coursing through your veins. Your body convulses, and you fall to the ground, clutching your sides in agony. As you glance up at the moon, the transformation begins.
"No, no, this can't be happening!" you yell, but your voice is distorted, already shifting tone. Panic seizes you. You try to call out for help, but your words are replaced by static. Your body stretches and contorts, bones cracking and reshaping.
Your height surges until you stand seven feet tall. Your skin pales to a beige color, while your forearms and lower legs fade to dark gray. Your red clawed fingers flex involuntarily, and you watch in horror as red hoof-toed feet replace your own. Hair sprouts into a pinkish-red bob-cut with black tips, and antlers protrude from the crown of your head.
The final piece locks into place as your throat warps, granting you a deep, vintage-radio timbre. Memories flood your mind, erasing your past self, replacing everything with Alastor's voice, Alastor's thoughts, Alastor's memories.
"Heavens, what a delightful transformation!" You cackle involuntarily, the sound suffused with an old-timey charm. You look down at your red pinstripe coat and the sentient vintage microphone at its cane. "All set for our little broadcast tonight, aren't we?"
You barely recognize the crowding presence of your original self, while the new persona of Alastor, now entirely you, takes over.
---
Emerging from the woods, you are met by the original Radio Demon's pleased gaze. "Ah, my creation, you've done well. Took my curse beautifully." He grins wider, impossible as it seems.
"As I’ll do every full moon night," you respond, acknowledging your fate with a flourish of your cane, the microphone's eye gleaming.
"Time for a broadcast, my dear brother," the original Alastor declares.
"Broadcasting live from the mortal realm, it's Alastor the Radio Demon—and Were-Alastor!" you announce enthusiastically, your voice carrying through the night with supernatural vigor. The original Alastor joins you, a double act of demonic playfulness and terror.
As you begin your spectral broadcast, your voice weaving through the mortal realm, you sense the original Alastor's satisfaction—and in you, the rising thrill of newfound purpose. Every full moon, you embrace your transformation, reveling in the fear you induce and the power you wield.
In those nights, the mortal world remembers. You and Alastor, side by side, perform your dark symphony, a harrowing reminder that some curses are more than skin deep—they reach the essence of one's very being. And with every full moon, you forget more of whom you were, leaving only Alastor the Radio Demon behind.
This story was generated by user Fizzarolli-Attack-2 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 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, her breasts vanish as her throat gains an Adam's apple to give her a more masculine voice identical to Alastor and her female privates (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) from her crotch/nether region invert itself and pushes out into male private parts (a penis and testicles); however, this is optional and only if the reader is 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 is just minding his/her business in the wooded area near his/her home, but is then 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: Your footsteps echo softly on the moonlit path as you wander through the wooded area near your home. The serene night holds an eerie calm, punctuated only by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. It's a night like any other—or so you think, until a chilling voice interrupts your peace. "Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice reverberates through the air, emanating an unsettling quality as if it's coming from an old vintage radio. You whirl around to face the source, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you stands a figure nearly seven feet tall, with a slim, unnaturally thin torso dressed in an elegant red pinstripe coat. His face is dominated by an unnaturally broad smile, sharp yellow teeth visible, and dark-red sclerae within bright-red eyes that fixate on you with a chilling intensity. This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, a sinister aura radiating from him. "Who—no, what are you?" you stammer, your voice wavering with fear. He steps closer, and in an instant, he's upon you, his movements a blur. You feel a sharp pain as his teeth sink into your throat, your scream cut short by the blood gushing from the wound. "You'll find out soon enough," his voice whispers in your ear, laced with dark amusement. He withdraws, licking the blood from his lips, and looks down at you as you crumple to the ground, the darkness closing in around you. --- Days later, you're trying to forget the harrowing encounter in the woods, the bite on your throat now a ragged scar. But deep inside, you know something is wrong. As night falls, an unshakable dread settles over you. When the full moon rises, you feel it—a sudden, overwhelming force coursing through your veins. Your body convulses, and you fall to the ground, clutching your sides in agony. As you glance up at the moon, the transformation begins. "No, no, this can't be happening!" you yell, but your voice is distorted, already shifting tone. Panic seizes you. You try to call out for help, but your words are replaced by static. Your body stretches and contorts, bones cracking and reshaping. Your height surges until you stand seven feet tall. Your skin pales to a beige color, while your forearms and lower legs fade to dark gray. Your red clawed fingers flex involuntarily, and you watch in horror as red hoof-toed feet replace your own. Hair sprouts into a pinkish-red bob-cut with black tips, and antlers protrude from the crown of your head. The final piece locks into place as your throat warps, granting you a deep, vintage-radio timbre. Memories flood your mind, erasing your past self, replacing everything with Alastor's voice, Alastor's thoughts, Alastor's memories. "Heavens, what a delightful transformation!" You cackle involuntarily, the sound suffused with an old-timey charm. You look down at your red pinstripe coat and the sentient vintage microphone at its cane. "All set for our little broadcast tonight, aren't we?" You barely recognize the crowding presence of your original self, while the new persona of Alastor, now entirely you, takes over. --- Emerging from the woods, you are met by the original Radio Demon's pleased gaze. "Ah, my creation, you've done well. Took my curse beautifully." He grins wider, impossible as it seems. "As I’ll do every full moon night," you respond, acknowledging your fate with a flourish of your cane, the microphone's eye gleaming. "Time for a broadcast, my dear brother," the original Alastor declares. "Broadcasting live from the mortal realm, it's Alastor the Radio Demon—and Were-Alastor!" you announce enthusiastically, your voice carrying through the night with supernatural vigor. The original Alastor joins you, a double act of demonic playfulness and terror. As you begin your spectral broadcast, your voice weaving through the mortal realm, you sense the original Alastor's satisfaction—and in you, the rising thrill of newfound purpose. Every full moon, you embrace your transformation, reveling in the fear you induce and the power you wield. In those nights, the mortal world remembers. You and Alastor, side by side, perform your dark symphony, a harrowing reminder that some curses are more than skin deep—they reach the essence of one's very being. And with every full moon, you forget more of whom you were, leaving only Alastor the Radio Demon behind.
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