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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the human reader instantly turning into Moxxie (from the Helluva Boss series), 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 normal person, even forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds 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 him), 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. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the reader) so we know what they're saying and what they're 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).
Feeling somewhat drowsy, you rub your eyes, blinking in an attempt to regain some clarity. But the scenery around you doesn't make sense. The world seems to blur, and bright colors overtake what was once your familiar surroundings. "Damn, you alright there?" A sharp, masculine voice echoes in your ears. You squint, looking around, but everything remains fuzzy. "Wow, yer shorter 'n’ a June bug! And red as a ripe apple!" Another voice jests. It’s as if your own consciousness is slipping, replaced with feelings and thoughts not your own — thoughts of weapons, songs, constant worries of getting boss's approval. Suddenly, you feel an intense conviction to part your lips and sing - operatic tunes forcing themselves from your throat. This isn't you. But then again, what is "you"? The more you grapple to hang onto your memories, the more they slip like sand through your fingers. Gradually your vision starts to restore, presenting a world of bright shades and thick outlines - like something out of a cartoon. And everything is larger, towering above you as if you have drastically shrunk. You attempt to raise your hand only to be taken aback at the sight of it - four short fingers, red skin. Thoughts of horror are washed away with a soft sigh of indifference. Was this not always how you appeared? You glance down, noting your strange new attire – a navy-black coat with red buttons, black pants, a white shirt with a black turtleneck, a large bowtie, and fingerless gloves. A twist of your body grants you a glimpse of a slender red tail. Your body, perfectly familiar and utterly foreign, is not as tall as you remember. It’s a comical 3.9 feet. Quickly, your eyes flicker open at a reflection. Not of you, but of...Moxxie. It clicks in place. Moxx... That’s you. Isn't it? You look around, now finally seeing the scene with clarity – the bustling office of Immediate Murder Professionals. Your colleagues, Millie - no, isn't she your wife? Yes, the sweet daughter-in-law to your thoughtful mother-in-law. And worse... Blitzo, your boss, the bane of your existence. Wait, Blitzo?! Memories return - not of your life, but of Moxxie’s. Your life, your world, your personality - everything is replaced. Complete transition into the small, anxious imp named Moxxie. His worries are your worries now; his likes and dislikes are now your own. "Make sure to clean your guns," Blitzo calls out to you, a rough dragon-like smile on his face. You accidentally let out a small whine, already feeling a headache coming on. "Yes, yes, Blitzo," you respond, his name slicing through your tongue with familiar resentment. And with that, your past life fades into oblivion. You’re just an imp living in Hell, always have been, Moxxie. It doesn't even occur to you to wonder why that's so normal. Another day, another mission, and hopefully no damned mascots to spice it up this time. As Moxxie, you know to expect anything but peace in Hell.
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