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Question: Write a POV transformation story of a male human reader (a boy of 7 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 him 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.
Once, I was an ordinary boy, no more than seven years old. My name was... I don't remember. It doesn't matter, really. Not since that *change.* The day my reality twisted, warped, and spit me out somewhere completely different. I thought I was dreaming when everything around me morphed into the nightmarish landscape of...what was it called? Hazbin Hotel. I went from being mere mortal to something far from humanity. With the blink of an eye, I progressed, matured from a boy to a man. A man in my 30s, standing around eight feet tall with finely traced feminine curves, draped in white fur. My skin stretched and grew, suit-clad torso elongated, legs stretching out in strides. My clothing morphed, refining into a crisp light pink suit-blazer, a short reddish-grey miniskirt replacing my knee shorts. My feet crammed into tight, thigh-high heeled boots. I remembered staggering, unbalanced, unused to the height and the precarious footwear. Cracked buildings of various sizes rose all around me. An apocalyptic world, one that had succumbed to sin and decadence. Just like me. My mind filled with someone else's memories, someone else's thoughts—no, I wasn't me anymore—I was...Angel Dust. I tried to hang on to the thought of my parents, their faces blurred. I saw hands reaching for a phone, dialing their numbers, my desperate voice crying, "Mom, Dad! Something's wrong!" But to no avail. Nobody picked up. My past slipped away like sand through my fingers. A strange, yet horrifying sensation overtook me as another pair of arms began to fight their way free from my slim torso. Then another set emerged. Six arms. *Six.* Long cerise pink gloves appeared on my top set of arms, contrasting with the pure white set of gloves on the second pair. The final set remained uncovered, hidden but at my command. I gazed into a puddle, my face mirroring back, distorted by the rippling water. I had a wide mouth, full of sharp, pointed teeth, with a rogue golden fang giving me a perpetual smirk. My eyes, no longer the clear blue they used to be, shone back at me a brilliant cerise pink. The eyes below, less than human, glowed a mesmerizing freckle-pink. I...had no nose, no ears. My slender neck was circled by a black choker, a reddish-grey bowtie completing my flamboyant attire. My psyche changed with my exterior. I became brash and witty. My once innocent mind was now filled with crude and crass humor, making me say outrageous things—things a seven-year-old boy would never even think about. I became more protective, more assertive, enjoying the attention my newfound appearance was procuring, with my flirty wisecracks. Was I scared? Of course. Was I managing to mask it with hollow confidence? Unquestionably. The new world was chaos, corruption personified. I navigated it with a mix of fear and fluttering excitement, each encounter an uphill battle, reminding me that I was never going back to my past life. The past was gone. I'm not a boy anymore. My name...is Angel Dust. This time, forever. There were times I tried to fight the transformation, the personality that started to creep over me, but each resistance was met with an overwhelming wave of reality. This was me now - quick-witted, sarcastic, flirtatious...free. Adapting to being Angel was no easy matter. Honestly, I miss being a kid but I guess...I'll just have to get used to this - accept the harsh reality of my transformation, no matter how permanent it seems, no matter how irreversibly my human side slipped away. I am three-decades-old Angel Dust. I am the entertainment of the underworld. I am a sinner demon. I am...no longer me.
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