From Mortal to Monarch of Hell: The Metamorphosis of the Human Reader into Lucifer Morningstar

The room you're in starts to shimmer. The familiar walls wobble like heated gelatin, and a dizzying sense of unease roils in your gut. Pictures on the walls bleed, their colors twisting into different hues before dripping down to form a twirling kaleidoscope on the carpet. Your reality, the world you've known, is rapidly dissolving around you. An intense feeling of heat engulfs you. Your clothes start to feel heavy and suffocating before they disintegrate into wispy trails of smoke. Soon enough, you're standing in nothing but your undergarments, yet it doesn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. You're becoming something more than you've ever been, something grand and terrifying. A powerful surge of energy runs through your veins, growing warmer by the second. You feel yourself transforming, shedding your human physiology. A strange tingling sensation begins at your toes and sweeps upward. Your height changes; you're growing taller, yet not over towering. Your legs, once weak with the human frailty, become solid and strong. The feeling reaches your chest, and a peculiar shift occurs. If you were a woman, this change was more noticeable. Your waist tightens, your walk becomes more of a saunter. A fresh wave of discomfort ebbs across your middle, yet it's not unsettling. This is the cadence of power, erotic and intoxicating. As you change, you look in the mirror, finding a face that's now familiar. The high cheekbones, the pure white skin, the thick eyebrows, and those sharp teeth. You gasp at the sight, but the sound that comes out is deep and menacing, a chuckle. The pleasure of self-indulgence washing over you. You reach a gloved hand to touch your new face, fingers grazing over the black bowtie and the smooth texture of your high-collar suit. It fits perfectly, as it was always yours. The surge reaches your head, leaving you reeling as the world swirls around you. Layers upon layers of memories, thousands of years worth, start pressing into your mind. Each of them as vivid and real as if they just happened. You wince and try to force these foreign thoughts out of your head, but it's useless. They slam you from all sides, relentless and unyielding, slowly eclipsing your own childhood, school years, your friends, everything. After a while, you can't remember being anyone but Lucifer Morningstar. Or was it "halways Lucifer"? You chuckle at your own joke, venomously sweet. A tap of your cane on the floor, and the room stills, the swirling colors solidifying into lavish reds and gold. As you take in your surroundings, there's an undeniable familiarity about it. The place you'd once feared is now home. The strangeness and chaos of hell don't frighten you now; instead, you feel a curious sense of belonging. The world you were born into fizzles out completely, replaced entirely by this animated realm of damned souls and demonic aristocrats. Finally, you grab an apple from nowhere, taking a bite and reveling in the juicy sweetness. From the corner of your eye, you see her - your beloved wife, Lilith. A ripple of joy spreads through you, a love that seems to have always been there. You stride toward her, twirling your cane elegantly as you show off a confident grin. "Ah, Lilith, my love," you say, slinging an arm around her. Your voice echoes with an odd, dark cheerfulness. "Shall we dance to some polka... or would you prefer a sonnet of my undying love for you?" You chuckle, already knowing her cheeky reply. This is your new reality, your new self, your new world. There is no more transformation. There is just Lucifer Morningstar, The King of Hell, forever and ever.