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Question: Write a transformation story of the 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 has a slender build 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 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 brash and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit. 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. 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 settled into your evening routine, a strange sense of unease prickled across your skin. The world began to waver and warp around you, colors bleeding into one another as reality twisted within your grasp. The sensation of your body stretching, reconfiguring under a force that was not your own, consumed your senses. Suddenly you felt taller, slender even, an eldritch pull lengthening your limbs and torso. You clung hopelessly to your fading sense of self, eyes wide as your body changed. The sensation of fur cascaded down your body. Looking down, you found yourself not only in strange new attire – a light pink blazer, miniskirt, and thigh-high boots - but also with an additional set of arms. With wide eyes, you saw another pair tucked away, seemingly retractable. Your hand went to your chest, expecting the soft mounds of flesh associated with femininity, but felt… fur. Fluff to be exact, fashioned into a familiar but bizarre parody of the breasts you used to have. Your mind stumbled, attempting to understand what was happening even as you felt it rebel at the changes. Images and thoughts that were not your own intruded inside your head, causing you to stagger. A voice echoed, as if whispering from all angles at once, "*Name's Angel, but better add the 'Dust' in there, sweetheart.”* What used to be your calm, standard routine had now morphed into a chaotic whirlwind carrying you down the memory lane of a stranger. A crude humor that was not yours brought an unwanted smirk to your new face. Your consciousness fought against these changing tides, but despair started gnawing at you realizing that fight was futile. A final shift occurred around you- the familiar human world was gone, replaced by the macabre scenery of Hell. Your heart pounded unevenly, lurching at the sight of this nightmare scape. Cerise-pink eyes glanced at the reflection in a nearby puddle, showing you the truth you feared most. You had turned into Anthony ‘Angel Dust’. You were no longer human, no longer female… no longer you. A melancholic chuckle slipped out from between your pointed teeth, gold glinting from the rogue fang, "*Well, ain’t life a kick in the ass?*" The words echoed those of Angel Dust, reaffirming your transformation. Your humanity tried to clasp onto the lingering threads of your past, but the persona of Angel was like a tsunami, washing away the remnants of your mortal life. There was no fight left in you, only the acceptance of your new, forever existence. The horror of the reality seemed like a bleak comedy to your new mindset. "*Hell, a place filled with ugly freaks. But look at me, An effin' beauty in all this hell-hole*!” Embedded memories told you that these were the words of Angel Dust. With every passing minute, your fight for retaining your past life seemed silly. After all, you were now Angel Dust, enjoying the attention, the looks you got, thriving in this strange, new Hell. The transformation was complete, not just physically, but also mentally. "*I'm Angel Dust, pleasure to introduce myself,*" you said, your voice echoing Anthony’s to perfection. And in that moment, you embraced the reality that for you, normal human life was nothing more than a forgotten tale.
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