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Question: Write a POV transformation story of the human reader being cursed and transformed at every full moon night into Alastor (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change (becoming the age of 30s-40s years old, exactly as left off from Alastor's death from his human life in 1933, becoming immortal in the process), height progression (growing from a normal height to 7 feet tall), voice change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being permanently and completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him/her completely forget about his/her past self and only remember being Alastor the Radio Demon). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a slim (having an unnaturally thin torso, neck, arms, and legs, except his shoulders are broad), dapper sinner demon with beige-colored skin, and usually has an unnaturally broad smile (reaching from each cheek's upper area) full of sharp, yellow teeth (he has no ability to frown due to this permanent smile). 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. His voice also sounds like it is coming from an old-fashioned vintage radio. Alastor has many supernatural powers, such as demon transformation (the ability to turn into a more powerful demon form), flexibility (able to contort his body into numerous unnatural poses), demonic magic (able to cast magic thanks to the high power-level he has accrued in the demon ranking system, this magic takes the visual form of glowing red symbols that resemble Voodoo veve, which float around him), shadow manipulation (able to summon shadows and manipulate them into doing his bidding), spatial warping (able to get around with the help of his shadow, allowing teleportation through this ability), portal creation (able to transport others to his location easily via the portals he makes), pyrokinesis (able to summon small balls of fire for display purpose), phytokinesis (able to make plants wilt with a single stare), manifestation, photokinesis (able to project red glowing light from his eyes as well as his microphone), and outfit alteration (capable of changing the outfits of his targets as well as his own with a snap of a finger). He is also capable of various other abilities including deal-making (as Alastor is known to be a deal-maker demon; deal-maker demons like Alastor can increase their power by dealing in souls, which is a very powerful commodity in hell, so they’re seen as very manipulative and not to be toyed with, deal-making is not something every demon can do, as such it is not to be taken lightly as it doesn’t generally work out well for the other party), broadcasting (when he was a living human, Alastor's profession was as a radio show host, and he continues his broadcasts in Hell as a demon, ensuring that Hell's denizens are aware of his activities over the airwaves, earning him the title of "The Radio Demon"), bilingualism (Alastor can speak English fluently as well as some broken Creole French), cooking (Alastor is noted to be "a big foodie" and mentions having admired his mother's cooking, specifically her Jambalaya), musical/dancing/theatrical talent (Alastor is known to display moderate vocal abilities and excels at dancing, with some people noting tap to be a style he excels in specifically, he also shows a flair for theatrical showmanship), and wide intellect (Alastor is known to be quite a cunning individual, resulting in him accruing a large amount of power through his tricks and deal-making). For his personality, 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 manly voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent (always literally sound like he is talking through a vintage radio), 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. For Alastor's preferences, he likes/loves smiling, invading people's personal space, his mother and her cooking, the "picture show", strong liquor, cooking, people failing, playing pranks, black coffee, bitter tastes, theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, and venison; however, he dislikes being touched, dogs (possibly related to his death as a mortal human in 1933), frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, post-30s' technology, and anyone ruining his outfit. The story is that the reader has been cursed by an evil gypsy woman to transform into a demonic creature every full moon night; however, the reader just laughs off and believes that it was just a lady doing a scary yet silly prank. Just days later, at one night, however, when the moon is full, the reader undergoes a transformation. But he/she does not transform into a werewolf as he/she initially believes/thinks by the start of the transformation, instead, the reader transforms (against his/her will) completely into Alastor the Radio Demon, in both body and mind, every full moon night (the reader tries to fight back all the changes and call for help, but to no avail), leaving the reader now completely transformed into Alastor (known to himself and the terrified humans as "Were-Alastor" or "WereAlastor" (which he also calls himself) due to transforming from a mortal human every full moon night). Alastor, formerly the human reader, now broadcasts throughout the mortal realm (Earth) as well as kill and feast on any mortal humans and their souls from the mortal world every night on Earth when the moon is full. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they are thinking. 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 wind rustles through the trees as you walk home from the encounter with the gypsy woman. Her words echo in your mind, although you've brushed them off as a joke. A cursed transformation every full moon? Ridiculous. As you approach your house, you snicker, shaking your head at the experience. "Just a silly prank," you mutter under your breath. Days pass, and the memory of the gypsy woman begins to fade. But tonight is different. You glance out the window and notice the full moon rising slowly in the sky. A small, unshakable anxiety starts to build within you, but you quickly dismiss it. After all, curses aren't real. The night settles, and you find yourself alone in your living room. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through your body. You grasp at your chest, feeling your heart pound fiercely. Your breath quickens as the sensation starts to spread. "What... what's happening to me?" you gasp, clutching at your limbs, feeling them stretch and strain. Your height begins to increase, slowly lifting you up until you're towering at a staggering 7 feet tall. Your torso slims down unnaturally, and your neck elongates. You look at your hands in horror as they stretch, your fingers growing long clawed tips. "No, no, this can't be happening!" you scream, but your voice is already changing, taking on a vintage radio-like quality. Panic overtakes you, and you stagger towards the mirror, only to be greeted by a stranger's face. Your skin has turned a pale beige, and your mouth contorts into a permanent, wide, almost maniacal grin revealing sharp, yellow teeth. Your eyes, now dark-red with piercing bright-red irises, stare back at you, horrified. "No! This isn't real!" you shout, but it's like yelling into the void. Your hair morphs, becoming a cropped, angled bob-cut with black tips and two large tufts mimicking deer ears. Small black antlers sprout from your head, adding to the grotesque transformation. Your clothing begins to shift with a life of its own, forming a red pinstripe coat with dark-red lapels and a bright red dress-shirt underneath. Black dress pants with red cuffs slide over your newly elongated legs, ending in red hoof-toed feet. "Oh God, what is this?" you cry, but the transformation is relentless. Your memories begin to blur, your thoughts slipping away like sand through your fingers. The person you were, whoever that was, is fading fast. The past is being overwritten. Instead, memories of a different life start to flood in, memories colored by malice and cunning intellect. New Orleans in the 1930s, radio broadcasts, deals struck in dark corners—it's all becoming clearer. You try to hold onto who you are, but Alastor's personality is taking over, a dark and overbearing presence. "No, I won't let you!" you scream internally, fighting against the tide of change. But it's too strong. Your struggles are in vain. A broad smile creeps upon your face as Alastor's dominance solidifies. "Smiling is so much more becoming, don't you think?" you—or rather, Alastor—say to the reflection in the mirror. The thought of frowning becomes alien, repulsive even. By the time the transformation completes, the person you once were is nothing but a distant history, forever locked away by the new persona of Alastor the Radio Demon. The memories of your human life vanish, leaving only your twisted and eternal identity as Alastor. You feel an irresistible urge to speak into a vintage microphone that has manifested in your hand. Your voice echoes through the airwaves in a sinister broadcast. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to another thrilling night of mayhem and mischief brought to you by your ever-charming Radio Demon!" The mortal world lies before you. With the full moon high, you feel powerful, invincible. Shadows bend to your will, portals open at your command. Laughter bubbles up as you think of the chaos you can unleash. "Now, let's see how these mortals fare against a little old-fashioned terror!" you exclaim, stepping through a portal to begin your reign of fear. Tonight, the world remembers why it should fear the full moon as the Radio Demon prowls the Earth, and you, now lost entirely, have become part of Hell's twisted broadcast for eternity.
You had always heard tales of full moon curses, of werewolves and cursed souls. Stories spun around campfires by older people in your town, meant to spook and amuse eager listeners. But, you had dismissed them as mere legends and folklore. That was until you crossed paths with an elderly gypsy woman holding an old round object in her clenched fist. She muttered something incomprehensible before chanting, "May you become the image of your worst nightmare every full moon night!" If only you knew that her words were more than just growls of a disheveled individual. That night, you meandered your way back home feeling a heightened sense of unease about the encounter. As visible tremors passed through your body, ignoring what might be the first signs of a looming transformation proved more challenging as the full moon waxed. Then, it began. Jolts of pain struck you hard, radiating from your spine to every nerve in your body. A tightness filled your chest, your clothes felt restricting, and your voice-box strained in protest. Terror passed through your mind as you expanded in height, and your skin hue changed, becoming a sickly pale beige. Your body, thin as a stalk, began to take a new shape, one that mimicked that of a shadowy figure etched in your memory — Alastor, The Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel. The Radio Demon, infamous for his unnaturally wide grin of sharp yellow teeth which you could now feel under your tongue. It remained stuck on your face as your face contorted painfully and your body twisted and turned into an unrecognizable version. Dark red sclerae took over the whites of your eyes, while your irises turned a bright shade of red. You could see in the mirror; it felt like you were staring into the eyes of a demon. Stumbling over to the wardrobe, a menacing grin spread across your new visage as the clothes you were wearing transformed into a red pinstripe coat, a bright red dress-shirt with a black cross adorning the chest, and long black dress pants. As you stared at your reflection, your height had somehow stretched to an intimidating seven-foot and two ominous antlers protruding from your head. You were Alastor, and you were the Radio Demon. Then came the abstract; your personality began to warp. The eddies of your mind were swirling, full of familiar yet alien thoughts. Memories of forest-side picnics, camping trips, all the joyous events of your past were slowly being washed away and overwritten by Alastor's memory—voices, old tunes, the eerie laughter of an audience. A haunting radio frequency buzzed at the back of your skull. Your cheerful demeanor was always charming, but now it was smeared with darkness, a sense of amusement that stretched beyond mortality. Suddenly, your voice began to echo, as if it were coming from an old vintage radio. Every time you tried to ask for help, all you could hear was your pleas twisted into Alastor’s smooth transatlantic accent. If you tried to grasp onto the familiarity of your life, Alastor's vivid memories of a vibrant yet darkly enchanting netherworld dominated. Your mind, with its core beliefs and precious memories, were rewritten, and your identity was swamped. The transformation was complete. Resistance proved futile, and the tide of this overwhelming change swept you away. Laughter echoed through the empty room as you recognized yourself only as Alastor, the Radio Demon. A chill of realization passed through your new form. Every full moon night, this would be your fate. For this transformed iteration of Alastor, the mortal realm was now a playground clothed under the mantle of the night and embellished by the full moon's silver glow. Radiating a captivating yet terrifying aura of supernatural domination, you now ventured out into the night, poised to reap a nightmarish broadcast befitting the new Alastor — the one, not of the Hazbin Hotel, but of the mortal realm under the full moon.
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