"What the hell is going on?" "Why are we here?" "This can't be happening!" "This is insane!" "Who are you?" "Why are we cisgender?" "What the hell is a cisgender?" "Why does this feel so wro

Part 1: Introduction In the realm of normalcy, mundane life seemed to rule supreme. However, today I had a sinking feeling something was about to change dramatically. That feeling intensified when my friend/sibling and I were abruptly pulled from our world and yanked into the chaotic environment of Hazbin Hotel. A perplexing place that was both fascinating and terrifying. "Where are we?" My friend/sibling asked fearfully, their eyes darting around the alien landscape we found ourselves in. "I'm not sure," I replied, struggling to keep my own terror at bay. That's when we saw him - a man whose appearance seemed to scream superiority, regality, and menace all at once. He had a crazy garish style - a white high-collared suit, a wide-brimmed white top hat adorned with a golden snake and red apple, and boots that reached his knee. Part 2: Transformation Bewildered and anxious, we could only watch as this ostentatious man approached us. His yellow eyes flicked over us, and a slow smirk spread across his black lips. "So, you're the lucky ones I picked," he drawled, voice honey-smooth and enchantingly inviting. "Welcome to Hell, debutants!" Without warning, he incanted a few cryptic words - a terrible surge of otherworldly power rushed over us. A white-hot pain shot through my body, a scream ripped itself from my throat, unnoticed by the white-skinned Lucifer before us. My friend/sibling was experiencing the same agonizing changes. I was consumed with confusion about my identity, yet blissfully beguiled by newfound memories of ruling Hell. A wave of power and understanding flooded over me - we were not just mere visitors - we were being transformed into Lucifer Morningstar himself, in body, mind, and soul. Part 3: Acceptance In the following weeks, snippets of our mortal identities tried to break through, like subtle ripples in a vast sea. But the overpowering consciousness of Lucifer, complete with his memories and personality, drowned out our feeble protests. "Who am I? Was I... Human?" I mused to my fellow Lucifer. We were starting to relish sinister puns, willingly absorbed by the unorthodox pleasures of polka music, and psychologically addicted to ruling Hell with an iron fist. Slowly, our past lives were being overwritten. The change was absolute, agonizingly irreversible. In a weird way, we became comfortable in our new forms. Melting into the self-indulgence and regality of our being, we were falling in love with the quirky magnificence of our novel existence. The last vestiges of our past lives were lost amidst homophobic four seasons, It never stood a chance against this alien yet familiar paradigm. ""It's good to have identical twins who are totally 'me,'" Lucifer drawled, seemingly pleased at having copies of himself. It was clear that having us - identical clones of himself - provided him with a sense of comfort, and more importantly, unimpeded power. As our personalities and memories fused with Lucifer’s, the transformation completed. We'd become identical to the charismatic and menacing ruler of Hell, with no remaining traces of our original selves. The final part of our transformation - the mental change was undeniably the most tormenting one, but emblematic of our new lives. Could we remember our past selves? The very concept seems foreign to us now. Who were we? Well, we're the sit of the underworld, the embodiment of sin, the Lucifer Morningstar.