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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the reader turning into an identical clone of Alastor (from the Hazbin Hotel series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), age change, height change, and, against the reader's will, mind/mental change (with his/her personalities and memories being completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, making the reader completely forget who he/she was before the transformation and only remembered ever being Alastor the Radio Demon). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), he is a slim, dapper sinner demon with beige-colored skin, and usually has a broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth on his otherwise-human-like face. 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. The story takes place after this other story: https://www.theinternet.io/articles/ask-ai/this-is-ridiculous-why-am-i-feeling-so-weird-angel-dust-thought-to-himself-as-he-felt-his-body-shaking-and-his-heart-racing-it-doesnt-feel-right-whats-happening-to-me-cherri-bomb-said-to/ . After turning Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, Angel Dust, and Cherri Bomb into Alastor's six new doppelgangers, he wanted more fun and one more clone of himself, and so he brought the reader from the real world and into the world of Hazbin Hotel before he used supernatural powers to transform the reader, with the reader trying to resist the physical and mental changes, but to no avail. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
In a world torn apart by sins and put together by the efforts of a hopeful princess, you find yourself thrust into this sinister realm - a frightened and bemused bystander called forth by a devilishly charismatic demon. An ancient microphone-tipped cane is pointed at you, undead eyes flicker hungrily, and the grand smile on Alastor's face crinkles with anticipation. "Ah, a new candidate for my symphony of chaos," he muses, never tearing his gaze from you. His voice is like old jazz on a gramophone, laced with the crackling heat of an inferno. Unexpectedly, a warmth spreads from your core like an unfolding sunflower. You blink in surprise, finding your vision becoming crisper, the world of Hazbin Hotel now saturated in a profound crimson. The confusion begins to seep in. Why was the world suddenly red? "Stop!" you protest, but your entreaty halts halfway. Why had your voice suddenly grown so much deeper? A panicked looked toward your reflection in a nearby beaten-up car reveals the startling truth. Dark pupils within your eyes have dilated, shifting and stretching into ovals and now the unmistakable radio dials, mirroring Alastor's own eyes. You stumble back in horror, clawing at your throat. Your heart pounds in your chest, like a drum echoing the beat of some diabolical carnival around you. Your entreaty for help is echoed by Alastor nearby, and a ripple of laughter curls through the air, distinctly your voice but exponentially more maniacal. "Oh, the thrilling drama! Resisting, are we?" Alastor's gleeful exclamation sends shivers down your spine. With sudden awareness, you feel the pressure on top of your head, reaching up to find two small black antlers pushing through your scalp. Your hair was now a bob cut, identical to Alastor's. You try to scream, but all that emanates is a low, rumbling chuckle. Tears well in your transformed eyes, a silent plea for mercy. A plea for normalcy again. Alastor simply brushes a fleck of dust off his suit, his grin never waning. He was enjoying this. With every wailing note of desperation that bleeds from you, his joy only mount. With a start, you notice a strange sensation nibbling at the corners of your mind. For a moment, you could almost taste the fresh gumbo simmering on an old stovetop. Hear jazz wafting through the streets of old New Orleans. Then, a flash of this ancient life, as though being shown a private reel of Alastor's memories. A previous life dissipates, your past, your home, everything you'd held dear was simply...gone. In its place, there was only Alastor. It was as though you had always been him, trapped within the labyrinth of another creature's twisted psyche. Your shaking hand reaches tentatively toward a sentient microphone, identical to Alastor's. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. As it resonates with energy under your touch, you realize with rising terror that Alastor's desires, his thoughts, his dreams were now your own. At last, you look upon your complete transformation. The once frightened bystander now stood just as tall, just as imposing, and equally as captivating as the demonic Alastor. And as you met his gaze, you found not fear, but kinship. "You and me, we're one and the same," Alastor murmurs, his eyes aglow with quiet triumph. A grin spreads across your new face, just as wide, just as sharp, forming an unnerving echo of Alastor's own. "Yes, it appears I am," you reply, your protests fading into the unknown corners of this psychedelic nightmare. "I am Alastor, the Radio Demon."
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