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Question: Write the 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), 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, 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 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).
A soft murmur hums through the museum, drowning itself in the whispers of elder years and lore. A book in an obscure corner, older than any human life, catches your eye. In your hands, it creaks open with a sigh, pages rich with the scent of aging parchment and stories untold. Your heart pounds as your eyes fall on the caption of the page, "Elven Magic of Transformation". Suddenly, a blinding light erupts from the rib-thin pages, engulfing you in a cascade of warming glow. The world shivers and alters around you, reality shifting from its axis. You're no longer standing in the museum but a verdant glade dappled in daylight and singing with the voices of a thousand songbirds. In your periphery stands a quaint elven village, the inhabitants unaware of your quiet arrival. Your body feels oddly feather-light, strong yet lean. A glance downwards reveals the changes. You're now garbed in a green tunic with a richly embroidered cape billowing on your back. Your hands disappear into leather gloves that match the rugged boots, reaching high up on your now elongated legs. Unfamiliarity grips you as you touch the pointy tips of your elven ears. Your once average appearance has transformed into something ethereal, your face handsomely structured with an almost ethereal quality. Yet, a flood of unfamiliar memories and a foreign mindset start to form, replacing your human common sense. Panic enfolds you, the terror rendering you mute. The word 'help' forms on your lips, but it comes out in a language you've never spoken before. "Tasarinan!". You realize with a shock that you remember this language, your mind translating it effortlessly to 'help'. Crying out for your loved ones, tears slip down your pale cheeks, a hand coming up to brush them away, even as the other shakes your head in an attempt to fight off the emerging elven personality. But your struggle is futile. It's like sand slipping through your fingers, the more you claw, the quicker it disappears. You can no longer hear the sobs of your human life, only the melodic calls of your elven brothers and sisters. A gentle yet firm hand comes to rest on your shoulder, snapping you out of the dolorous struggle. An elven maiden with hair like spun gold and eyes radiating kindness smiles at you. A pang of familiarity strikes you, memories of her flashing in your mind. "Anoramin, melamin, ta nae amin," she says, and you understand completely. This too puts you at ease, your body faintly relaxing under her touch. Her voice is like a balm on your frayed nerves, her words translating to, "Fear not, my love, it is me." Her reassurances bring with it a sense of calm, her lullaby imploring you to remember. Memories of centuries spent together roll in like a calming tide, each one filled with laughter, love, and companionship. You wrap your arms around her, pulling this symbol of your new life closer. The voice that escapes is your own, but with the melodic undertone of the elven language. "Heruamin, melamin", My lady, my love. Contentedly, you steer towards your shared cottage at the edge of the village, utterly forgetting about the museum, or the life you once had as a human. With a sigh of relief, you embrace your forever as an elf, a reality you realise had always been your true life. Your transformation had only reminded you of your originality.
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