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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the reader and his/her friend or sibling turning into identical clones of Alastor (from the Hazbin Hotel series), complete with gender change (if the reader and/or friend/sibling are female), clothes change, age change, height change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's and the friend's/sibling's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite their best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making them both completely forget about their past self and only remember being Alastor). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader and his/her friend/sibling turned into his clones), 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 hoofed toes and red 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 would be that Alastor was 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 and the friend/sibling a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life to kidnap the reader and his/her friend or sibling before sending them both to the world of Hazbin Hotel before using supernatural black magic at the reader and his/her sibling/friend which turned them into his clones, thus turning the reader and the friend/sibling into Alastor's identical twin brothers (the reader and the sibling/friend tried to fight those new memories and personality, not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but are fighting a losing battle and their minds 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.
The air was stagnant and hot, choking in its smog-filled thickness. The taxi cabs honked in an endless symphony outside your window. In the apartment next door, your friend or sibling was bored, perusing through the endless streams of digital content on the internet. You both shared a secret passion, a guilty pleasure for an animated series known as the Hazbin Hotel. But, this afternoon, your mundane lives would take a turn for the alarming. Something in the apartment shifted, making the room go cold suddenly. Alastor, Radio Demon and resident charm of Hazbin Hotel, materialized before you, seeming out of place amidst your cluttered living room. "Well hello, there, dear rabbit," he greeted you in his traditional radio-announcer voice, his broad smile full of too-sharp teeth curving into an amused grin. "I'm afraid the picture show's just begun." Shock held you prisoner, unable to move or even scream for help. Your sibling or friend, meanwhile, looked at the screen in stunned disbelief, and then up at Alastor, quickly comprehending he wasn't a play of a damaged screen, but the genuine article. Alastor's smile didn't waver. He reached out a hand, fingers adorned with red-speckled tips extended towards you. With a crackle of energy, the black magic engulfed you both, and in a moment, reality bent and twisted, taking you from your familiar apartment and thrusting you in the twisted caricature cityscape of Hell from Hazbin Hotel. Changes immediately started to course through you both, slow at first, then picking up pace. Your skin took on a beige hue, your hair cropped to a bob, tip dyed black, and small antlers poking through your scalp. It was a weird sensation, not pain but like a thousand ants crawling under your skin. Your sibling or friend, too, was caught in the same spectacle, their features altering to match Alastor's. You tried to fight against the changes, but found difficulty in doing so as if your will was slowly being siphoned away. "Now, now," Alastor chided, his voice echoing in your skull. "Play nice, won't you?" Your mind strayed, new memories and knowledge replacing your old ones. You found yourself greeting your sibling, or friend, with a sarcastic broad smile, “Well dear, seems like we’re in quite a predicament, aren’t we?” The once familiar voice of your sibling or friend echoed through the demonic scape now filled with your identical voices, responding, “Indeed, an unusual turn of events.” You both resisted as best as you could, trying to claw back to who you were, but every second robbed you more of your old selves. The prim dandy style that you once despised now felt second nature. The radio announcer voice felt apparent, a sermon of Hell now on repeat. With each passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to distinguish between you and Alastor, between your sibling or friend and Alastor. You watched as he looked happy with his game, sipping on his controversial drink, a cocktail of some sort. “Isn’t this more interesting than the inane scribbles you call 'art?'", Alastor asked as he flipped through some drawings on your laptop. You laughed with Alastor's voice at the absurdity of it all. As if trapped in a dream, you soon found yourself shifting realities, living as Alastor, dancing among the flames of Hell. Alastor's values, his standards, his idiosyncratic speech, started taking you and your sibling or friend over completely. Despite all your best efforts, the transformation was complete. There you both stood, not as mere echoes, but as living, breathing replicas of Alastor. It was a sobering dive into the unknown, forced down a path you never chose. As you looked at your sibling, your friend, you tried to remember how they looked before all of this. It was getting hard to remember. If you remembered right, they were not Alastor and yet, you couldn't recall their face. The same felt about yours. In the Hell that was the Hazbin Hotel, you and your sibling or friend had become one with Alastor, two additional smiles to match the original. Alastor's silhouette, not born from a storyboard, but from a cruel, sweetmentor magic trick. Two perfect Alastor-clones, your past lives nothing but ashes, and the radio demon's distorted reflection all that remained.
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