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Question: Write a transformation story of a mortal human reader turning into Angel "Anthony" Dust (from the Hazbin Hotel series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), age change, 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, making the reader 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 Lucifer Morningstar is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Angel Dust's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves, despite being a male) 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 six limbs (two legs and 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. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
I sat on the couch in my apartment, sifting through the stack of comics that I had recently bought. I was particularly captivated by the artwork, the vibrant colors, and the thrilling tales of Hazbin Hotel. The more I read about a particular character named Angel Dust, the more enamored I became with his brash persona, unique style, and complex personality. Suddenly, I was overcome by a tumultuous wave of lethargy. As my body went limp, my surroundings started to distort and warp, making me feel dizzy. The crisp, white walls of my apartment started changing into dark, gloomy murals reminiscent of the underworld of Hazbin Hotel. The transition was terrifying, I attempted to fight it, but each resistance strengthened the transformation. As the room continued to alter, I could feel a physical change setting in. My body pulsated with each heartbeat, as if my blood was being replaced with a new compound. My growth spurt was next; I could feel myself becoming taller – eight feet tall to be precise. My masculine build, although already slender, was morphed into a feminine yet still distinctly male form. My skin lightened, turning soft and fur-like as a mop of white pixie hair ruffled atop my head. "M-My body...what's happening to me?!" I stammered out confusingly, my voice shifting to a rougher, more distinct New York accent. A hearty laughter escaped my mouth. It wasn't my own. It was Angel Dust's. "No way outta this one, sweetheart," I scoffed out, desperation still lacing my voice. The shift in personality was next; my mind was flooded with memories, whispers, and emotions that weren't mine. I grappled with these alien thoughts as I started to be filled with Angel Dust's own consciousness and memories. It was a strange sensation, like watching someone else's life movie but feeling the experiences like they were your own. But, despite my efforts, my consciousness and memories began to fade away, replaced by Angel Dust's sardonic wit and false machismo. My past as a human was now a distant, vague memory, like trying to remember the details of a dream. "Is this some kinda joke?!" I uttered, finding my language harsher and more provocative. I found myself dawned in Angel Dust's characteristic outfit: a long, light pink suit-blazer, reddish-grey miniskirt, thigh-high boots, cerise pink gloves, and a black choker. Extra arms seemed to appear out of nowhere. I almost panicked when I realized I now had six arms, not to mention the option to summon more at will. The persona was complete – I was Angel Dust. I stared into my reflection; two different-coloured eyes looked back at me, a golden tooth glinting in my wide grin. “Well, ain’t this something?” I said, my voice now oozed confidence, a stark contrast to the fear I had felt earlier. Despite the changes, I felt... comfortable. The transformation was complete, and it was permanent. I walked around, adjusting to my new identity. My body, my mind, my world, all was different yet eerily familiar. I was no longer a mortal human; I was now Angel Anthony Dust, a sinful demon with an imposing persona. Despite my attempt to embrace Angel Dust's outgoing personality, I developed a newfound understanding of his cynicism, his facade, and his buried hope for redemption. I understood his struggle with Valentino, the glamorous and oppressive underworld boss. I now lived the tough, traumatized life Angel Dust had. Regardless of it all, I was now part of this underworld. A sinner demon with a heart, an imposing persona, embodying charisma, wit, resilience, and a vague hope for something better. As frightening as the transformation was, I found solace in my new identity. I was now... Angel Dust.
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