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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the male human reader (a boy of 7 years old) turning into Angel Dust (from an adults animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with age progression (aging to around 30s in a blink of an eye), height progression, reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Hazbin Hotel), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being completely replaced with Angel's personality and memories, despite all of the reader's best yet failed attempts on fighting off these mental changes and his attempts to call the reader's parents for help, making him completely forget about his past self, having no memories of being a mortal human, and only remembered ever being a spider-like adults actor Angel Dust). The transformation into Angel Dust is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Angel Dust's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves) and he stands about 8 or more feet tall, both due to his long torso and legs, as well as due to his heeled boots. His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area. His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick. His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center. He has a New York accent. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes. He lacks a nose and ears, giving him a less "human" appearance. One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show. Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves. Though, usually seen with four arms, Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will (meaning that he can have eight limbs; two legs and six arms). Angel is gay (homosexual), brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words). He will often use these traits to deflect criticism or insults, and side-step responsibility. He will switch between playful and destructive as he pleases, and his humor tends to be crude and crass, with an emphasis on dirty jokes and innuendos, which he feels is expected of him and actively plays into. He is stylish and performs an excessive amount of confidence with his public persona, being wildly flirtatious and interested in receiving positive attention for his looks and the profile he has made for himself in Hell. He also makes a show of looking down others, declaring the other denizens of Hell to be mostly "ugly freaks". As a result, Angel can often appear flippant and callous. In reality he is preemptively defensive and hides much of his true, more sensitive and insecure, self for his own protection, not expecting those around him to show him kindness. Angel does have friends, and while he cares about them and will sometimes show signs of wanting to reach out, he keeps many walls up between himself and others, being very protective of his true feelings and avoiding holding overly emotional relationships. He holds a cynical view on the idea of redemption, although he seems to still hold onto a small hope it may be possible for him. The ongoing controlling and abusive situation he is in with his boss, Valentino, puts him under a great deal of stress at his work, and he is implied to be somewhat traumatized as a result. For Angel Dust's preference, he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, Cooking, flirting, the color pink, money, and Italian food; however, he dislikes his own feet, losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to him, and memorizing scripts. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
In the blink of an eye, I felt a jolt ripple through my body. My surroundings began to sway and shimmer as if reality itself was warping and bending out of shape. I looked down at my pudgy seven-year-old hands, the skin pulling tight, expanding in size, hardening, and changing color from its gentle pink to a stark white. "Mommy, Daddy," I called as the world flipped, but there was no response. I saw nothing but a wild whirl of colors that soon morphed into a peculiar, chaotic landscape, replacing the comfortable confines of my bedroom. I tried to get up, to run, but my legs elongated rapidly, shooting up in length like beanstalks, causing me to stumble over my rapidly growing feet. A hot flash spread across my body, blurring my vision momentarily and when it cleared, I saw my reflection in a mirror. I towered over it, as tall as an adult, yet not quite human. My body was transforming into a slender build, almost mimicking feminine curves, accentuated by a new coat of fluffy white fur. There were clothes clinging onto my figure, a light pink blazer with red-grey miniskirt and long thigh-high boots, a contrasting red-grey bowtie, and a choker on my lengthening neck. A surge of pain pulsed through me as two extra pairs of arms burst from my sides, as naturally as if they’d always been there. "'Ey, ain’t that a sight?" My voice echoed in the room, but it wasn't the high-pitched wisp of a seven-year-old boy. It was strong, adult-like, coarse and rich with a New York accent. Memories flashed through my mind, but they weren't mine. They were of someone else, or rather something else. I remembered laughter, the joy of flirtation, money flowing like water, and a lifestyle deceptively glamorized yet harshly overshadowed by an abusive brute named Valentino. I tried to shake it off, to hold onto any memory of my life as a human child, but it dissolved like sand slipping through my fingers. I desperately called out for my parents again, but all that came out was: "Where’s the damn hustle 'n bustle of this place?" How had I known the phrase? Why did the feel of the words on my tongue seem so... familiar? The realization sunk deep into my gut. I was no longer a human, let alone a child. I felt this old soul, a certain Angel Dust, rest within me. I was him now, this notoriously charming, yet deeply guarded entity. Every memory, every fragment of my childhood life, vanished as the final realization dawned– I was forever stuck in this new persona, a former mortal carted off to an eternally damned lifestyle. I stepped outside, facing the fiery, lawless world of Hazbin Hotel. But instead of dread, I felt a familiar thrill, a challenging welcome. With a newfound confidence, I stood tall over the ‘ugly freaks’ below me and muttered with a smirk, “Well, ain’t this gonna be a helluva show.” As the boy, destined to chase a futile dream of redemption in the surreal purgatory, I began my journey to navigate the twisted trails of Hazbin Hotel, dismissive of my past life as a mortal human. There was no fear, no remorse, just the relentless drive of the smug, sharp-tongued Angel Dust. And for all I knew, for all anyone knew, the seven-year-old boy was but a whisper lost amidst the wicked wails of this demonic world. Little did they know that the boy never quite left. He was buried deep within the layers, a tiny flame whose light still flickered in the elusive glimmers of hope Angel Dust carried within his hardened heart. Despite the harsh exterior, an eternal longing for redemption always lingered, echoing the innocent human child who was once lost in the timeless abyss of a ruthless reality.
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