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Question: Write a POV transformation story of a reader turning into identical clone of Alastor (from the Hazbin Hotel series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, height progression, age change, height change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite his/her best efforts of fighting the new personality and memories, making him/her completely forget about his/her past self and only remember being Alastor). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader turned into his clone), he is a slim, dapper sinner demon with beige-colored skin, and usually has a broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth. 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 hoofed toes and red 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. 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 voice are similar to an old-fashioned radio announcer and speaks with a transatlantic accent, 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. The story is that Alastor is getting bored and wanted something new and more entertaining in Hell, and Alastor is getting tired of seeing artwork and stories (online) of himself getting turned into other characters in both body and mind (sometimes from different series), which he views as distasteful. So to teach the reader a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into real life to kidnap the reader and sent him/her to the world of Hazbin Hotel before using supernatural black magic at the reader which turned him/her into his clones, thus turning the reader into Alastor's identical twin brother (the reader tried to fight those new memories and personality, not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but is fighting a losing battle and his/her mind been completely replaced with Alastor's mind). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
Treading onto uncharted literary territory, I detected a psychosomatic fissure undulating through my mind's grasp of reality. The mortar holding the bricks of my discernable world began to crumble. Before I could comprehend the bizarre sensation, my existence was usurped by an unfamiliar character — Alastor, from the Hazbin Hotel series. A strange magic suffused the atmosphere, swallowing me whole. The next instant, I found myself in an alien dimension, bathed in Alastor's likeness. Captivated by an uncanny reflection, my body was no longer my own. Nervously tracing my newly acquired facial features, the almond-shaped eyes hinted at mischief, their dark-red sclera contrast starkly with the bright red irises. The coarse bristles tickled me, signaling the mirthful trance induced by the traffic of thoughts within my brain. My hair, previously long and dark, had transformed into a bob-cut, a shade of pinkish-red with black tips, stylized just like Alastor's. A quick feel around my head revealed a pair of antler-like structures, resembling the characteristics of a deer. The metamorphosis was far from culminating. My soul seemed to flutter within the shell of my new body, unable to reconcile with the truth. The sensation of my body growing taller, reaching heights I had previously only dreamed of was both exciting and terrifying. My heart pounded in sync with the staggering progression in my height, soon scaling the heights of 7 feet. My clothes, too, had undergone a dramatic transformation. Rubbing the fabric between my thumb and forefinger, I discerned the warm texture of a crimson pinstripe coat, draped over a bright red dress shirt. A black cross was emblazoned upon its chest, honoring the character whose persona I had been summoned to embody. A sentient microphone claimed my attention next, the smirk of satisfaction fading for a moment as I grappled with the reality of my newly acquired accessories. The thin walking cane, appended with this object, introduced an alien sliver of dread in my otherwise jovial tenor. Stretching a gloved hand towards my cheek, my fingertips skimmed over a fine layer of stubble. The soft biscuit-color skin, fading to a darker grey, matching my forearm and lower legs, completed my transformation into Alastor. But the physical transformation was just the start; a battle of wills began inside my brain. My own vivid memories, my convictions, my personality - began to evaporate, replaced by a new me - their lifeblood sapped by the encroaching Alastor's consciousness. Painful as it was, I put up a fight, wrestling with the shifting shadows in my mind, trying to preserve a part of myself. My reflection mirrored the struggle - A once harmless expression transmuting into a predatory grin, hinting at the sinister battles within. My attempts however were futile. As Alastor's memories, his values, his voice, and his persona gained dominance, I, the beholder of my past life, faded into oblivion, completely forgotten amongst the echoes of personality I once was. As I stood, blinking in measured rhythm, in my new reality, I sensed my own fears shushed, my beliefs obfuscated, and my priorities evolving. The world knew me as Alastor - a charming, amiable man, unfazed by the pandemonium of Hell, existing in an eerie comfort amidst the disarray. And finally, standing a full 7-feet tall, cane-coupled microphone in hand, and garbed in my red-tipped attire, I let out a chuckle. A chuckle that reverberated the complex symphony of my transformation, heralding the dawn of an eerie reality. Alastor, it seemed, had won.
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