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Question: Write a POV transformation of a male human reader (a boy of 11 years years old) turning into Alastor the Radio Demon (from the animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with clothes change, age progression (turning from a kid to an adult and being immortal), height progression (growing taller until he's about 7 feet tall), and mind/mental change (with the reader's mind being permanently and completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite his best efforts on fighting them and his attempts of calling his parents for help, making the reader completely forget about his past self and only remember being Alastor). For Alastor's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), 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 transformation starts as a slight tremor in my fingers and toes. I look down at my hands, confused. I'm just an ordinary eleven-year-old boy. I shouldn't be feeling this. As I try to understand what's happening, I feel my clothes shifting, changing. The familiar fabric of my t-shirt becomes rigid and my jeans morph into dress pants. Suddenly, a growth spurt. I watch in awe as my body stretches and elongates. My head nearly hits the ceiling of my bedroom and I find a strange thrill in it. I'm growing taller, stronger. There's a fleeting moment of fear as I call out for my parents, but my voice comes out different—deeper, glossier—with a transatlantic accent. Then comes the most disturbing part, the mind transition. My memories scramble and new ones flutter in. The playground, my fifth birthday party, my favorite teddy bear - they all start to fade, replaced with chilling recollections of a life not my own. Laughter, screams and jazz music, a radio booth - they're not my memories, but they're quickly becoming mine. I fight it, tooth and nail, but it's like clinging onto the edge of a cliff - eventually, my grip slips. My reflection scares me. I'm staring at not a boy, but a man - a dapper, seven-foot-tall sinner demon. My skin has turned a strange shade of beige, a creepy smile full of yellow, pointed teeth carving my features, eyes glowing, and all too red. The tufts of hair on top of my head remind me of a deer's ears, with matching black-tipped antlers. Beneath the fear, a strange sense of satisfaction emerges. Power. Authority. I try to keep hold of who I am - who I used to be - but it's becoming impossible. The boy is fading, and Alastor is taking over. My newfound elegance is marked by a red pinstripe coat and a matching red dress shirt, dark black pants, a cross dangling on my chest. A black knotted bowtie with a bright red center. I slip my now clawed hands into black gloves, the fingertips dyed red. The final touch, a pair of black pointed-toe boots, their soles imprinted with red deer hoofprints. Looking down at my right hand, I find a cane with an attached vintage-style microphone. I'm Absolute power hums in my veins, an unfamiliar but welcome sensation and deep down a voice - my voice - stirs. "Welcome to the broadcast... I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon..." Surprisingly, I find myself smirking. Whatever my life used to be, it's over. I'm Alastor, now. A charming, immortal, transatlantic, broadcasting demon residing in hell. And frankly...I think I'm going to enjoy it.
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