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Question: Write the transformation story of a 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) 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.
The first indication of change occurred as the reader, let's call them Alex for ease, sat in their favorite armchair, a well-worn novel in hand. Outside, the world appeared normal, warm sunlight streaming in through the blinds. But within them, a strange sensation was building, like butterflies fluttering in their stomach. Glancing down, they could see the burnished skin of their arms darken to pure white. Panic settled in, but no matter how hard they tried to move, they felt trapped. Their body moved, but not by their own volition. "Hey, whatta hell is goin' on here?" Alex found their voice morphing, losing its familiar tone, replaced by a thicker New York accent. It felt foreign, as if the voice came from someone else and they were only a bystander to their own transformation. As their height shot up, it felt as though they were on a roller coaster, the world distorting around them. The once familiar surroundings skewed as their eyesight adjusted to the new height - eight feet, ten, it was hard to say. They could feel their body slimming, hips pulling outwards, while their torso remained long and slim. Alex's look of confusion warped into shock as they glanced down, seeing the prominent and entirely fluffy chest that was now a part of their body. "What in the...?" Alex stammered, their mind reeling as the world seemed to fluctuate around them. Their homey, quaint living room faded, changing into the garish decor that screamed 'Hazbin Hotel.' “Oh, lovely. Really. Just-freakin'-lovely!" They exclaimed, their voice dripping with sarcasm that felt all too natural. A mop of fluffy white hair fell into their vision, streaked with soft pink. Almost instinctively, they brushed it back, catching sight of their new cerise pink eyes, the right one with a light yellow sclera and a dark sclera in the left. Their reflection in the mirror that now hung in this new space revealed shiny, sharp teeth with a glinting golden fang adding an element of danger. A feeling of exhaustion washed over Alex as extra limbs sprouted from their sides, creating three pairs of arms. Frilly, cerise pink gloves adorned the top set, while white gloves graced the bottom. When they realized these new limbs, Alex tried shaking them off, thinking it was just a nightmare... but no, it wasn’t. "Make this stop." They pleaded, their voice a whisper as the changes to them kept snowballing, the new reality gripping their former human life. The loss of their old memories was the most disconcerting, disappearing like wisps of smoke. Important days, the feel of pet’s fur, the aroma of their favorite meal all faded. In their place, the memories of another began to trickle in. A dangerous life filled with debauchery, of maintaining an appearance, and the destructive cycle of work as Angel Dust rushed in like a fast train. Alex soon realized their struggle was futile. They peered at their reflection, now obscured by the flourishes of their new reality. They straightened their light-pink suit-blazer, adjusted the reddish-grey bowtie, and begrudgingly accepted the seemingly permanent transformation. "Hey, look at you stud," They heard themselves say, their voice transitioning seamlessly into Angel Dust’s New York accent. "Not bad, not bad at all." In the end, Alex's old self was a mere ghost of an echo. In their stead stood Angel Dust, flamboyant, crass, yet hiding a delicate sensitivity beneath his rough exterior. He accepted who he was, even as an artificial transformation, gracefully adapting to the world of Hazbin Hotel, etching his own tale. "Change ain't so bad. Just another performance," Angel Dust's words echoed in the now transformed surroundings of what once was Alex's quaint home. He tossed his head back, laughing at his predicament. Humor became his best defense and an essential part of his thing. "Welcome to the madhouse, I guess."
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