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Question: Write a POV transformation story of an mortal human reader fully turning into an identical clone of Fizzarolli (from the animated series Helluva Boss), complete with gender change (if the reader's a female), clothes change, age change, height change, semi-robotification (arms and legs becoming robotic), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Fizzarolli's personality and memories, despite his/her best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making the reader permanently and completely forget about his/her past self and only remember ever being Fizzarolli the jester imp). For Fizzarolli's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), he is a tall, slender male imp with a jester getup. Like all imps, he has a short reptilian-looking muzzle with sharp teeth in it, and he lacks any visible ears. He lacks any hair on his head and his body. His eyes have lime sclera and pink irises, his sharp teeth are neon blue, and he has a devil-like imp tail with black stripes, however the stripe in the middle is white. His cybernetic arms and legs are retractable, able to extend and bend far more than normal jointed limbs could and have a light blue circle on each shoulder and light blue spots on his knuckles. The majority of Fizzarolli's head is covered in a huge burn scar, with the only parts unaffected being the tip of his mouth and a small part of the back of his head, which show his original red skin. His face also has black dots at the ends of his mouth, and he has a forked tongue that has a couple of black stripes on it as well. He used to have exceptionally large horns for an imp, but were damaged and cauterized by the fire. He wears a bright red and blue jester cap with bells, a white ruff, and a black collar with bells located below it. His jester hat's stripe patterns resemble those of his horns' as a child, being asymmetrical from both sides. The front side of his outfit is bright red with yellow trim at the bottom with yellow hearts, while the back is bright blue with white trim at the bottom and black hearts. He wears white and purple striped pants along with white and purple striped sleeves with bright red cuffs and yellow trim edging, and yellow balls on his shoulders with light red hearts. He also wears black, heeled shoes with yellow hearts on the front, black gloves with red spots on the knuckles, and yellow cuffs. For Fizzarolli's personality, he is a theatrical demon, with a fast-talking demeanor and a crude sense of humor. Extremely vulgar in nature, he constantly makes sexual jokes and puns, to the degree he pairs up with Asmodeus in openly condescending sentimental relationships and offering lewd suggestions. He was shown to be especially condescending towards Blitzo, with whom he has a bad history with, which stems from an accident that happened at Cash Buckzo's circus fifteen years prior to the episode "Oops", however Fizzarolli found it in him to forgive Blitzo after the latter rescued him from Crimson and Striker. Early in the series, Fizzarolli seemed to embody Blitzo's comments about being an overrated sellout clown, given how he did not seem to mind having his image exploited by Mammon's corporate marketing because it made him popular and famous for being a Sins name-brand figure. This included having no issue with his likeness being marketed for a line of sex toys, despite how it secretly creeped him out. He also dislikes the creepy fans who enjoy the Robo Fizz sex toys, even secretly ordering the staff at Ozzie's to keep a creepy fan far away from him after they proclaimed they owned four. Despite his normal jovial nature Fizzarolli suffers from extreme self-worth and self-image issues, the latter of which mostly originating from the severe injuries he received from a circus fire that he was involved in when he was younger. Because of this, he feels like he needs to do whatever Mammon tells him to do, as he feels he must repay the man for all the fame and success being his brand figure has brought, despite how horribly he is treated. He also believes unless he keeps propitiating the fame and admiration he will be nothing and will lose Asmodeus, as he's only ever seen him as he claims it "his best", and believes he is barely worthy of working with a king of sin because of his disfigurement. The story would be that Fizzarolli was getting tired of being the only main clown of his circus in Hell, so Fizzarolli (by some supernatural means) had briefly left the series' Hell and into the real world to kidnap the reader and sent the reader to the Helluva Boss universe before strapping the reader onto an invention that Fizzarolli discovered on an alleyway, and turned the reader into his clone, thus permanently turning the reader into Fizzarolli's identical twin brother. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
A rustle of the page turned, one second you're in your bed, and the next, you're not. You find yourself in a grungy alleyway that uncomfortably smells like old cheese. You squint at the sudden change of scenery - this wasn't your comfortable room, your walls filled with movie posters and bookshelves. You notice two towering figures looming over you. "Hey there, Bucko," one figure's voice rings out, a low purr to it. From your hazy vision, you make out a twisted grin gleaming with neon blue teeth, beneath amicable, pink irises. Fizzarolli. Dizziness hits you like a freight train, everything blurring around the edges. You feel something cold against your skin, tight around your wrists and ankles. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, panic sinking in. "Trust me; this'll be a hoot." Fizzarolli says, his forked tongue slipping out. Then, there's a sharp jolt, a zap. Pain lances through you. As if viewing through a static-prone TV, the world shifts and warps. Where your body once felt warm and soft, it begins to harden, cool as your flesh mutates into cold, chrome armor. Gears whirr as your limbs stretch out - long, agile, and freakishly strong, every move sending bizarre tingles under your skin. It's a horrifying feeling, no longer entirely human, your very being irrevocably becoming mechanical. Twisted laughter echoes around. Does it hurt? Yes, beyond belief. Is it scary? Excruciatingly so. But something new starts creeping in, lusty and lewd. Vulgarity weaved with every breath you take, you fight against these foreign thoughts, fight to keep the love for your favorite hobbies, for the family and friends you know by heart. But they blur, the faces fading, their names slipping away into deep, dark oblivion. The clothes you once wore are no more - replaced by a brightly colored jester's outfit, simultaneously scandalous and ridiculous. Your senses are a confusing mess of neon and stark, the soft ruffle of your white collar, the jingling bells of your hat. A mirror is thrust before you. You no longer see your old self reflected, but a tall and slender imp jester. You recognize the sight, an exact mirror image of what was once a fictional character from a favorite series. You are Fizzarolli. It isn't long before nothing remains of the person you were. Every memory, every love, every passion dies away - replaced with the lewd, the vain, the utterly Fizzarolli essence. You struggle through cruel laughter, recalling the soft warmth of home, of hobbies, of love. With every heart-wrenching attempt, all that blushes forth in your mind is Asmodeus, and the cruel circus life you bled. "Fizz," you spit out, your voice mechanized and so much lower than before. Your eyes flash with indignant shock before twisting cruelly with amusement. "Impressive. Welcome to the gang, brother." He says, extending his mechanical arm towards you. You reach out, beginning a new life in this hellish world. As the world around you explodes into a crazed applaud from an unseen audience, you can't help but laugh, your new vocals twisted and hysterical. You are Fizzarolli, a crude jester of Hell's circus, no jade-eyed girl, no soft-spoken boy. By the dread you feel creeping at the thought of losing that too, by the fear of what might happen when Asmodeus sees you, your new robotic heart hammers erratically in your chassis. You may not remember the past, but you have a new future, a new life on center stage. And as you are Fizzarolli, he even flourishes under fear. You bury that last bit of nostalgia deep within, smother it with the glamour and the misery that coats your new existence. After all, the show must go on.
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