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Question: Write a POV transformation of a male human reader (a boy of 10 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.
As I sit in my room, poring over my favorite comic book, an unexplainable sensation pulses through my body. It's as if my very existence is being rewritten, transforming me from a simple child into something far greater. I drop my book as the overwhelming sensation eventually stabilizes, forcing me to check my reflection in the nearby mirror. Gone is the short stature of a ten-year-old, replaced with a towering silhouette of looming power and darkness. I've shot up, now longer taller than the tallest cupboard, looming at seven feet tall. My clothes are no longer that of a childish leisurewear, instead, a neat, perfectly aligned red pinstriped suit has replaced them. It's a sharp outfit with a bow tie, with a red dress shirt underneath sporting a charming black cross, matching my heightened charisma. There's a unique charm to these distinctly adult clothes, not the least of which includes the ragged hem of my coat, a rebellious detail breaking the otherwise crispy and clean pattern. The monocle resting over my right eye too. A disturbing chill runs down my spine. I feel older, immortal. My clothes aren’t the only thing undergoing an evolution. I can feel myself mature mentally. Shapes and shadows of forgotten memories recede, replaced with fresh knowledge and experiences unclaimed. A strange, antique radio microphone materializes in my hand, and I sense a connection, an understanding with it I cannot explain. It feels like part of me, an extension of who I've become, a tool that could amplify my voice, or play the tunes haunting my fresh mind. The image in the mirror is nothing like the boy I once was. Skin the color of pale beige, hair tinged with a pinkish-red bob cut with black tips, mimicking a deer's ears. Antlers sprout from my head, still small for now but promising potential growth in the demonic form I vaguely remember. Startled, I move to call out to my parents. But I falter. A sudden bout of frustration swells within me as I realize I cannot remember their faces, their names, anything about them. A heavy despair bears down on me, but surprisingly dissipates just as quickly, replaced with... indifference. My new eyes are hypnotizing - the dark-red sclera making the bright-red iris pop in demand of attention. My pupils, thin and black, change shape randomly like a radio dial tuning signals. Sharp yellow teeth flash as I smile into the mirror, entranced by my transformation. However, the most confusing part, unsettling too, is how I behave. My voice, personality, it's all changed but not for the worse, rather... more insidious? I seem to mirror a 1920s radio presenter, a transatlantic accent rolling smoothly off my tongue, using antiquated expressions that feel like second nature. Looking at myself, I can't help the wide grin that stays plastered on my face. In fact, it hasn't left since this started. The mirror reflects a bright, charming individual, but laced with a hint of danger. Despite losing my past, I find myself standing taller, oozing of confidence, and driven by high self-esteem. Alastor, they call me. The Radio Demon. And somehow...I can't help but like it.
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