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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the average male human reader turning into a fantasy elf complete with a tunic, a cape, long boots, leather gloves, pointy elven ears, thin and lean yet athletic body, handsome and ethereal-looking face, no facial hair on the lower half of his face (he keeps his eyelashes and eyebrows however), pale skin, beautiful blue irises in his eyes, and long blonde hair (not a Christmas elf, fantasy elf) complete with age change, supernatural powers gain (including but not limited to being immortal and forever youthful), language shift (changing from English to an elven language, yet the reader now completely understood this new language whilst no longer remembering English), reality change (the reader's real world warping and becoming the fantasy medieval world filled with mythical creatures such as elves, goblins (the elves' arch nemesis), dragons, and many more), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories replaced with an elf's personality and memories, despite his best efforts on fighting off the new memories and personality, making him completely forget about being a mortal human and only remember being an elf). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. The story is that the reader was visiting a museum containing very old books and other historical artifacts, where the reader finds a book that is all about medieval fantasy creatures, he then opens the book, causing the blinding light to engulf him and thus caused the whole transformation to occur. During the mental changes, the reader is truly terrified/horrified about losing his own memories and personality as a human (as well as forgetting his previous language, with English instantly changing to an elven language during mid-sentence), so he tries to fight against the new memories and personality (even screaming for help from his family/friends, crying out in tears, as well as attempting to shake his head as an attempt to get rid of the emerging elven memories/personality), but his mental fight is in vain, making him completely forget his mortal and mundane human life and he only remembers being a medieval-era elf (complete with a new name fitting for an elf, rather than an old human name he once remembered having). To aid in the now-elven reader's transforming mind, an adult female elf from a nearby elven village (who caused the book to transport the reader into a medieval world and transformed into an elf himself) comes up to the reader and comforts him with a gentle hug, an affectionate kiss, quietly singing an elven lullaby to the reader, and telling him to remember who he really is (an elf), making the reader realize that the elf woman comforting him is his caring, understanding, and loving wife (whom the elf reader truly loves, cares, and understands, having always known her), and the reader is genuinely happy to know that his previous human life was only a dream (he is completely unaware of ever being a mortal/human) and is happy that his life as an elf (he enjoys being with his elf wife, whom he married centuries ago) is his only true life. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Not only that, but there should be quotes in elven language (as well as the translations for those who don't know what those elven words mean), even the reader's language shift during his panic. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
The museum was still and quiet, perhaps that's why you were drawn to the ancient tome on display. It was a large, thick book with an enticing title: "Legends and Creatures of Medieval Fantasy". The caretaker was long gone, and the solitary emergency light painted an eerie glow in the dark hall. Overwhelmed by curiosity, you lifted the protective case and opened the book. Suddenly, a blinding blue light enveloped you, stealing your calcuated composure. Your senses were overwhelmed. You felt your body melting and reforming. With your every bone shifting, muscles sinewy like vines started to wrap around your remodeled skeletal structure. You felt a tingle in your feet, it was as though they instinctively knew to stretch, as boots seemed to engulf them, the sensation strangely familiar. Your hands felt encased and snug, as if covered in leather, and impossibly soft. Your ears twitched. A sensation alien yet organic - an odd extension of cartilage, a sharp length at the edge marked the ordeal. You ran a hand across your face, it felt chiseled and, undeniably handsome. Robbed of any facial hair on the lower half, your face felt strangely soothed. Hair longer than you've ever had it trickled down your back. Tennis-ball-sized blue eyes surveyed the scene, shock permeating through their irises, their beauty the only consolation in the nightmare that unfolded. While your physical senses were engaged in this symphony of transformation, a different metamorphosis took place within your mind. It started slowly, words of English, once your sole means of communication started to dissolve like sugar in warm water. Replaced by a language you were sure you've never heard before, yet one you understood effortlessly. Your inner monologue turned into an elven script: "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo," (A star shines on the hour of our meeting) it said, and you knew to say, "Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin," (I will treasure my life within your heart). Your human life, faces of your family, friends, every memory, was replaced by a flurry of elven imagery. It felt like your mind was a sand castle, the tide washing away structure after structure of your identity. You tried to scream, you pleaded, but every word was now in Elven - a beautiful sentenced chained in desperation. “Amin feuya ten' lle!” (My spirit fades!) you cried, the sadness engulfing you in its chilling embrace. Just as you were about to lose yourself, a soft voice, as warm and as sweet as honey called out to you, “Tula, melamin.” (Come, my love.) You saw her then, a vision in white with an ageless, elven face. She knelt by your side, her eyes reflecting empathy and a timeless love. Words of comfort flowed from her lips as she hugged you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Lle naa haran e' nausalle.” (You are king in your imagination), she sang. Your heart fluttered, recognizing the lullaby. And then it hit you, this familiar, this pulse of warm feeling, the surety of the bond. She was your wife, your elven heart's companion. You knew her like you had known no other, loved her like you had loved none. You wiped your tears now, a smile replacing your fear. She was right. You were elven. You've always been elven. This human life was... a dream? "Áva quen." (Don't speak), she whispered, quietening your thoughts. In her arms, against her heartbeat, the horrible human dream was replaced by the joyful elf reality. You realized then that this was your life and you wouldn't want it any other way. You were an average human who found a magical book that made you into an elf. Yes. You're an elf. An elf who was home, finally.
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