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Question: Write a POV transformation story of a male human reader (a boy of 11 years old) turning into Angel Dust (from an adults animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with age progression (aging to around 30s in a blink of an eye), 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 and his attempts to call the reader's parents for help, 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 Angel Dust is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Angel Dust's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves) 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 a New York accent. 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 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 gay (homosexual), brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words). 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. Angel does have friends, and while he cares about them and will sometimes show signs of wanting to reach out, he keeps many walls up between himself and others, being very protective of his true feelings and avoiding holding overly emotional relationships. He holds a cynical view on the idea of redemption, although he seems to still hold onto a small hope it may be possible for him. The ongoing controlling and abusive situation he is in with his boss, Valentino, puts him under a great deal of stress at his work, and he is implied to be somewhat traumatized as a result. For Angel Dust's preference, he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, Cooking, flirting, the color pink, money, and Italian food; however, he dislikes his own feet, losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to him, and memorizing scripts. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
Title: Change of Worlds "Hey kiddo, you okay?" a concerned voice echoed as the 11-year-old boy teetered on the edge of consciousness. Raising his head, he blinked, surprised to find his surroundings morphed completely. His once ordinary bedroom was now entirely distorted, the rest of his house unimaginable. He barely recognized this new reality, seeming straight out of Hazbin Hotel, the adult animated series he'd glimpsed once at the insistence of a friend. Through his bewilderment, the boy remembered the name of a character. An enigmatic, sassy demon named Angel Dust. His body felt strange. He was taller, so much taller than the small stature of an 11-year-old boy. With each second, age coursed through his body at an inexplicable rate, taking him from a child to a man in his 30s in an instant. An impossible height progress seemed to stretch him towards the ceiling, longer limbs reaching about eight feet. To call it disorienting would have been a gross understatement. "Ah!" he yelled, as he realized his transformation was not just limited to aging and height. His once human skin was now coated in soft, white, and pink-tinged fur. His chest, prided on Angel Dust's peculiar look, was made entirely of furry plumes, shaped by a pinned jacket. He found himself in a long light pink suit-blazer, a reddish-grey miniskirt, thigh-high heeled boots, a bow tie, and a black choker. Though he should have been terrified, he felt an odd surge of confidence as he viewed his reflection. His demonic visage was as appealing as it was intimidating, with cerise pink eyes boasting dark and light sclera and a golden fang glimmering amidst sharp, pointed teeth. His head boasted a mop of fluffy white hair with a distinctive heart pattern sprawled at the back. Six...no, eight limbs! Two legs and six arms. The boy’s panicked reaction turned into a smirk, “I've become a real head-turner, huh?” But something was lurking in his mind, like an intruder bent on possession. Thoughts, emotions, memories...not his own flooded his consciousness. Angel Dust's life was interjecting itself into his psyche. He could feel his own identity being drowned by the overwhelming tide of Angel’s personality; brash, sarcastic, flirtatious, with sharp wit accompanied by strong language. His new reality now featured drugs, pranks, cooking, money, and Italian food. He had an odd disdain towards his own feet, indifference for his credibility, trauma from an abusive boss Valention, and aversion to memorizing scripts. "No…no….Mum? Dad?" He tried to call out, gathering up all his strength against the onslaught, but his voice echoed hollowly in the distorted reality. The names, the faces...were slipping away from his memory. Despite his efforts, his battle was lost, a part of him knew it was truly irreversible. His smirk widened, and his tone turned reckless, "Who cares? Time to embrace the chaos." Accepting his fate, he let go of his past human self, the old memories fading into nothingness. In his heart, he knew he was no longer a mortal human. In the blink of an eye, he was no longer an innocent child, but Angel Dust, a sinner demon from the depth of Hell with a past and a history intruding on his life. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he muttered to himself, "Who gives a damn about the old world?” His transformation was complete, every fiber screamed defiance and rebellion. Wrapped up completely in his new identity, he strut across his lair with an air of untouchable arrogance. "Welcome to my world, Angel Dust," he muttered, heart quickening with an odd, thrilling anticipation.
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