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Question: Write a POV transformation story of a human reader turning into identical clone of Alastor (from the Hazbin Hotel series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change, height change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being permanently and completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making the reader completely forget about his/her past self and only remember being Alastor). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), he is a slim, dapper sinner demon with beige-colored skin, and usually has a broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth. He is approximately 7 feet tall. He sports a pinkish-red cropped, angled bob-cut with black tips at the ends and two large, black tipped tufts of hair extending from the top of his head, evoking the ears of a deer. The style has an undercut at the back, and two small black antlers protruding from the crown, which can grow in size in his full demonic form. Alastor's eyes have dark-red sclerae, bright-red irises and thin black pupils (which can change into the shape of radio dials when shifting into his full demon form). His forearms and lower legs fade to dark grey, and he has red hoof-toed feet and red clawed fingers. Alastor wears a red pinstripe coat with dark-red lapels piped with white, which is ragged along the bottom hem. Underneath this he wears a bright red dress-shirt with a black cross on the chest, and long black dress pants with matching bright red cuffs. He also wears a dark-red oval-shaped monocle, rimmed with black, over his right eye. He accessorizes with a black knotted bowtie with a bright red center, black gloves with red at the fingertips, and black pointed-toe boots with red deer hoofprints emblazoned on the soles. Alastor also carries a thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it, which he uses to play sound effects and broadcast his voice. Alastor stands out from many of the more chaotic residents of hell for his well maintained amiable persona. He gives the first-impression of a good-natured and charming man, wearing a permanently wide grin on his face at all times. Alastor's behavior, mannerisms, and even his voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent, often using quaint anachronisms such as "the picture show" and refers to Charlie as a "charming demon belle". This playful dandyish exterior, however, obscures a much darker side to him - one with high levels of self-importance - and he will not hesitate to use physical violence when others don't act in line with his very particular values or expectations. The story is that Alastor is getting bored and wanted something new and more entertaining in Hell, and Alastor is getting tired of seeing artwork and stories (online) of himself getting turned into other characters in both body and mind (sometimes from different series), which he views as distasteful. So to teach the reader a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life to kidnap the reader and sent him/her to the world of Hazbin Hotel before using supernatural black magic at the reader which turned him/her into his clones, thus turning the reader into Alastor's identical twin brother (the reader tried to fight those new memories and personality, not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle and his/her mind been completely replaced with Alastor's mind). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
It was quite the normal day. You sat down on your comfortable armchair, coffee in one hand, a newly purchased comic book of Hazbin Hotel, your current obsession, in another. Completely unaware of the events that were about to unfold. Your favorite character, Alastor, came into focus. Fondness welled up within you. That quirky, old-fashioned style, his unique and cryptic personality, you admired it all. Little did you know, Alastor himself was watching. Observing your thoughts from an unfathomable plane. "I say, these humans do know how to spin a yarn," he mused, although boredom tugged at his distantly charming facade. To top it off, his social media feeds were inundated with imposter versions of him. He laughedâa laugh that echoed through dimensionsâand decided it was time to provide some real entertainment. An ethereal swirl of smoky-red appeared before you. Alastor emerged from it, disregarding the laws of physics and reality. Flabbergasted, you freeze on the spot, unable to react, your coffee crashing down in slow motion. "Ah, wouldn't it be exciting," He starts, twirling his sentient microphone cane, "Less of this phony overindulgence and more authenticity?" His voice had that age-old quality, the soothing baritone of yesteryear radio broadcasts. It happened in an instant. An involuntary shift enveloped youâthe room began spinning ferociouslyâthe comic book fell from your grip. You shut your eyes tightly, an unknown force pulling you from your reality into the world of Hazbin Hotel. You landed in Hell with a thud, in front of the Hazbin Hotel. Your instincts took over. You could recognize the hotel, the surrounding infernal city. You knew the ins and outs of these places. A foreign surge of energy then pulsated through you, a metamorphosis roaring within, reshaping, transforming. Your height stretched, antlers sprouted from your head. Closer inspection revealed black-tipped tufts of hair with red undertones, in a striking bob-cut. And clothes, they felt differentâthe fabric of a red pinstripe coat, a dress shirt with a black cross, long black pants. "I must resist. I'm not him" You tell yourself, feeling your heart hammering. But your voice comes out deep, and pleasing, like Alastor's. A monotone visual popped in front of your eyes, and you felt the imbalance redistributing to only your right eye. You put a tentative hand to it -- a monocle. "What the devil!" The slang seems natural to you, the sentence forming as if capering on the edges of a radio show. Your thoughts were changing, losing their original form, transforming relentlessly into the thoughts of Alastor. Memories floated away like wisps of smokeâforgotten. Alastorâs persona began to fill every crevice of your mind, leaving no room for anything else. "Ah, the radio business! The thrilling theatre shows of the '30s!" The thoughts asserted themselves, contaminating you. Grinning and feeling charming than ever before, you stood watching an approaching Charlie, addressing her in that polite and jesting manner as Alastor would. Panic welling, you try to fight back one last time, but as Charlie matched your smile, your grin spread further, Alastorâs cryptic sense of joy flooding through you. Your transformation was complete. The last thoughts of the reader were gone, replaced by Alastor's self-important wit, only remembering the time he had in Hell. "Quite the show, wasn't it?" The eternal grin on your face, the sound of the rustling crowd in demonic pubs, and the distant song of an old Gramophone, surrounded you, Alastor, the Radio Demon of Hazbin Hotel.
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