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Question: Write the POV transformation story of a mortal human reader turning into Crimson (from the Helluva Boss series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change, height change, reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Helluva Boss), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Crimson's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting these mental changes, making the reader permanently and completely forget about his past self as a normal human and only remember being Crimson, an imp and a mafia leader). The transformation into Fizzarolli is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Crimson's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), he is a quite tall imp demon, standing closer in height to Blitzo, with white hair, black and white striped horns, and yellow sclera. Around his eyes are white markings, with the right being larger than the left. He possesses a crooked and bent tail with white accents near the base and on the middle of his tail fork. His appearance is similar to his son Moxxie, with similar hair and shape of his horns, however larger and slightly more jagged. Unlike his son (Moxxie), Crimson's skin is a darker shade of red and his legs appear to be plantigrade (like a human's), rather than digitigrade, but still have red cloven hooves (unlike human feet). He also has short-clawed fingers on his hands. All of Crimson's teeth are sharp fangs, while one of his fangs is a golden fang unlike the other teeth (which are white). Crimson's attire consists of a red high-collar shirt that grips his neck, topped by a navy blue coat with light blue accents, thin red stripes, red buttons, and red lining. His pants are dark blue which also have thin red stripes, and his shoes are black and red-heeled dress shoes. He also wears a black fedora with a red and white band. Crimson is a vicious and extremely ruthless crime boss that controls a large army of shark-like demon gangsters. He is horrifically abusive towards Moxxie since his childhood, constantly levying physical and psychological abuse towards Moxxie, and by extension his wife. He cultivates an aura of fear in those that know him, even towards his own family members and close associates like Moxxie and Chazwick. Ultimately, his greed and power come first to him, and he harbors no remorse for his victims. This comes to the point that he appears mentally prepared to kill blood-related family members, such as his wife and Moxxie, to advance his personal goals. Despite this, he is capable of exhibiting a seemingly jovial, warm, happy, and even charismatic presence when he chooses to do so, such as during his initial meeting with Blitzo and Millie, or during moments when he feels comfortable. However, he can be quick to discard this external display of affection as required. For Crimson's preference, he likes smoking, monetary gain, organized crime, mistreating Moxxie, and hanging body parts of his victims as house decorations; he however dislikes anyone who double-crosses him, anyone lesser than him, and anyone talking back to him. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
As you picked up the beautifully illustrated comic book titled "Helluva Boss", a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you. Remnants of the comic book scattered around your room, warping, twisting, blending with reality. Black curls swirled in the air before morphing into the shape of black and white-striped horns. "Wh-what?" Your hand reached up to touch your forehead. Instead of the familiar skin, you were met with rigid, curved, and warm...horns? A flicker of unease set in your gut. Gravity started to pull you down, as if your feet were physically longer, grown, solidifying into fearsome red cloven hooves. Your clothes seemed to tighten, constricting your breath. However, you noticed the fabric texture growing more luxurious, the simple cotton replaced by a high-end material. The comic in your hand wavered, changing into a cigar. You coughed, lungs retching at the strong scent of smoke. Wait... The odd realization set in - you hate smoking. You'd always hated it. This wasn’t your preference. “No, no, no…” You tried to resist, resist the changes, the alien thoughts tempting your mind. But they were already starting to weave in, making you forget that you hated smoke, that you were a simple mortal once... A mirror shot up from the floor, showing you your reflection. There you were - the sharp fangs, a golden fang among the gleaming white, the skin painted a darker shade of red, and the dark stripes under the eyes - everything… everything was unnatural yet strangely appealing. No… You… You weren’t just ‘you’ anymore. You were Crimson, the mighty mafia leader of the Helluva Boss. Your mind started to wane, succumbing to the force of the comic book, the personality within it was stronger, more powerful. You could feel your old memories being overshadowed by Crimson’s past, his life, his dreadful reputation. Every photo in the room started to twist and burn, replaced by ones featuring a small red imp. “Moxxie… my boy…” A cruel smirk crept up your face, a cruel cruel smirk. You could feel the hatred boiling within. "Just like his good fo-nothing mother… always disappointing me…” Your thought trailed off into a deep growl. Your old life, your past was gone. The mighty Crimson had taken full rein, his dominance absolute. You couldn't even remember your old name anymore, nor the world you once called home. Lush green trees, skyscrapers, the chirping of birds; all foreign. All you could see, all you could feel was the underworld - dark, full of greed, violence. The mirror shattered, its pieces combining into a large throne before you could blink. You stepped forward, your feet echoing against the cold, stony floor. An imp handed over a lavish fur robe. You scoffed, pushing him aside to claim your throne. You, or better, Crimson was home, ready to reign over this devilish world. The memory of your previous existence was carried away, buried under Crimson's dark history and unquenchable thirst for greed. "You know Blitzo," you chuckled, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Never double-cross me... not unless you have a death wish!" Through all this, you internally screamed for the familiar touch of that dusty old comic book, the comfort of a mundane human life. But as more time passed, the screams got weaker until they finally faded away… replaced by the resounding echoes of Crimson’s cruel laughter.
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