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"Eternal Smiles of The Radio Demons: Twisted Dance in Hell as Alastor Triplets"

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You and your sibling had always loved reading fantasy stories together. One fateful evening, you both immersed yourselves in "Hazbin Hotel" fanfiction, the ambiance of your room dimmed with the glow of the laptop screen. Suddenly, the room's temperature dropped, and an eerie scarlet light bathed the space.

"What the—?" you began, but the words were swallowed by a deep, resonating laughter that seemed to emanate from between the walls. Without warning, a tall, dark figure materialized. It was Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. His eyes were piercing, and that ever-present, unsettling grin made your skin crawl.

"Good evening!" Alastor's voice was as charming as it was chilling. "I've grown weary of seeing myself twisted and transformed for the amusement of mere mortals. Time for a lesson in self-love!"

Before you could react, shadows sprang from the ground wrapping around both you and your sibling, their grip tightening as your vision blurred. The last sound you heard was Alastor's laughter, a siren song to your encroaching doom.

When you regained consciousness, the world felt different. The familiar room had transformed into a grand, vintage parlor. Gothic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting ominous shadows. You noticed your sibling first—or what had been your sibling. Now, they were a striking reflection, complete and uncanny down to the black-tipped red hair and unnaturally broad smile.

Horror infused your veins. “Why can’t I stop smiling?” Your voice didn't sound like yours. It was deep, melodious, like an old-fashioned radio announcer. You watched your sibling touch their face, and through their mirrored expressions, you knew they were feeling the same abject terror.

You've tried to push down your cheeks, forcing a frown, but it was no use. The smile was permanent. It was your very being now.

Alastor appeared before you, his own smile never wavering. “Welcome, my dear pawns, to your true forms! You see, beneath the veil of your human lives, you have always been part of me. A fragment of my essence. It’s time to truly wake up from your false human dreams.”

"No! This can't be real," you screamed inside your head, but your well-mannered voice betrayed nothing of your inner turmoil. Memories, not your own, crashed into your mind, a deluge of someone else's life. You tried to recall your own—your favorite foods, your best friends, your childhood home—but each familiar image was replaced with memories of grandeur, murder, and the unmistakable satisfaction of watching others fail.

The flood of new memories and personality traits was a battle hard-fought, but futile. “It’s your nature to smile,” Alastor’s voice echoed in your mind, solidifying the transformation. The truth settled like a dark cloud over your consciousness. You'd always been one of Alastor's siblings, after all.

You remembered the buttery taste of your mother's jambalaya, your human broadcasts, the thrill of the hunt and your shared death in 1933. Then, your arrival in Hell, a new playground for your twisted pleasures. Tears of your forgotten humanity dried up, leaving you with the unnatural happiness of your cursed existence.

“Ah, my dear brothers,” Alastor said, his voice laced with a joy that only he could find genuine. “Welcome home.”

###

Days, weeks, months—the concept of time blurred in Hell. You, your sibling, and Alastor adapted to the life of the peculiar trio amidst Hazbin Hotel’s chaotic but strangely structured society.

Charlie's earnest optimism was baffling but amusing. “Thank you for joining us!” she said with genuine sincerity, causing you to chuckle. The naivety was intoxicatingly refreshing, except you knew better. The redemption of souls? Laughable! The true fun resided in watching the chaos unfold.

Vaggie narrowed her eyes at you—a suspicion clear as day. She didn't trust you, Alastor's other essence. But you played nice, ignoring the distrust and focusing on the sheer amusement of her feeble attempts to control the situation.

“Don't screw this up!” She hissed once, to you and your clone-brother. You merely smiled wider if that were possible.

Angel Dust, the ever-sarcastic wretch of the demon world, was another source of entertainment. “Hey, handsome, there's enough of me to go around! Or would you prefer some alone time with just one of me?” he’d quip, earning an eye-roll from Vaggie.

Husk remained sullen—almost tragically so—his predicament locked in your grasp. He might have been a soul you owned, but, surprisingly, he was manageable. Drink in hand, he'd mutter curses, each one popping with a bitter taste you relished.

Nifty, that tiny ball of domestic fury, still chattered at you, urging cleanliness and order. In her, you paradoxically found a strange comfort. Maybe it was her relentless energy or her odd fixation on cleanliness that reminded you of the chaos you left behind on Earth, bound to those simpler times.

But in the deepest part of your darkened heart, you knew: This was where you belonged. In Hell’s marrows, playing pranks, lifting spirits only to dash them down, living out your eternally wakeful nightmare with the twisted perfection of your true self aligned.

A redundant showman's life, another day's broadcast, another's soul bartered. Only you—no fragment of humanity left. Completely, irrevocably, Alastor's twin brother—you promised to keep the Radio Demon's name pleasingly notorious, fuelled eternally by sadistic joy.

Charlie marched into the lobby one morning, her hopeful demeanor unchanged, her belief in redemption unwavering. She smiled at you warmly, her eyes full of brightness.

"Good morning, Alastors! Ready for another productive day?" She beamed, her optimism almost infectious.

"Of course, mademoiselle!" you responded, bowing slightly. "We live for the moments ready to unfold!"

And thus, as Hell churned and spun, the three Alastors stood tall, ever-smiling, confidently wrapped in their deceitful charades, reveling in the beautifully devilish dance of the damned.

This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli1 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts

Prompt: Write the POV transformation story of a human reader and his/her human friend or human sibling turning into completely identical clones of Alastor (from the adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if either the reader and/or friend/sibling is a female, their breasts vanish as their throat gains an Adam's apple to give them a more masculine voice identical to Alastor and their female privates (vagina, ovaries, and uterus) from their crotch/nether region invert itself and pushes out into male private parts (a penis and testicles); however, this is optional and only if either the reader and/or friend/sibling is female before the transformation), voice change (the reader's and his/her friend's/sibling's voice becoming identical to Alastor's voice), instant clothes change (the reader's and his/her friend's/sibling's clothes instantly turning into Alastor's outfit), age change (becoming the age of 30s-40s years old, exactly as left off from Alastor's death from his human life in 1933, thus 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 and his/her friend's/sibling's personalities and memories being permanently and completely replaced with Alastor's personality and memories, despite the reader's and his/her friend's/sibling's best efforts of fighting off the new personality and memories, making them completely forget all about their past selves and remember that they always had been twin brothers of Alastor the Radio Demon (even as human Alastor's twin brothers before their deaths at the same time in 1933 and their immediate arrival in Hell as the Radio Demons), even sharing the same names, which is their real/true selves (unlike their false previous selves)). For Alastor's appearance (after the reader and his/her friend/sibling turned into his clones), 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). He also has four fingers (like all Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters), unlike real world humans. 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). Alastor stands out from many of the more chaotic residents of hell for his well maintained amiable persona. He gives a first-impression of a good-natured and charming man, wearing a permanently wide grin on his face at all times. His 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. He is noted to be narcissistic, with his love for himself being stated that no one else can measure up to it, and he does not see many people quite up to his level. Alastor is described as a man of duality. He values good manners, affability and intelligence very highly in others, and will actively look down on those who do not meet his standards, however he will often play fast and loose with these arbitrary rules in regards to himself and his own conduct. Alastor has an odd sense of morality, which is described as "not normal", and has been noted to be quite sadistic, even cannibalistic, devouring lesser demons or those that have incurred his anger. Despite this, he keeps close friends with the other cannibals of Hell, including the denizens at the Cannibal Town. His smiling is a very self enforced form of ego and a show of power and dominance; he looks down on anyone who lets their true emotions show, and even when faced with a rival in strength, if they let slip a frown, Alastor will see them as truly weak. His smile is also to be more unpredictable and unnerving, and gives him a feeling of complete control over himself. While Alastor is powerful, he is aware that there are other demons and entities that rival him in terms of power, such as other Overlords. For this reason, he is wary around such demons, as they could potentially harm him if he is not careful. Despite everything, Alastor does genuinely seem to want to help Charlie run the Hazbin Hotel, albeit for his own amusement, and hopes for its failure over siding with her idealism. Alastor also dismisses the idea that redemption is possible as laughable, nevertheless, he fulfills his role as patron as promised, providing the hotel with staff, and protecting Charlie and her business from outside threats. He views the whole endeavor as a fun distraction from his decades of boredom. Despite consistently having a confident and cheerful demeanor, he harbors a vulnerable side that becomes apparent when confronted with reminders of being "chained". In this instance, his facade of certainty crumbles, and he succumbs to panic attack. According to Mimzy (Alastor's friend), when Alastor was alive he would become a "kitten" (not literally a kitten) if he drank enough rye whiskey while jazz music was on. Here are Alastor's preferences (his likes and dislikes); he likes himself (including his own fashion style), smiling, doodling, gossip and drama, invading others' personal space, his mother and her cooking, jazz music, strong liquor, cooking, seeing people fail, playing pranks, bitter tastes (especially those of black coffee), theater, dancing, the Stock Market Crash of 1929, venison, being in charge, Charlie's potential, pineapple on pizza, and making jokes. However, he dislikes Lucifer Morningstar (the king of Hell and Charlie Morningstar's father) and his "tacky" circus décor, Susan (a Cannibal Town resident), being touched (including his hair being touched), dogs, frowning, tea, anything sweet, Angel Dust's sexual remarks, being humbled, post-30s' technology, anyone ruining his outfit, being controlled and reminded of it, the idea of the hotel failing, and Mimzy bringing destruction to the hotel. The story is that Alastor is getting bored and wanted something new and more entertaining in Hell. Not only that, but most importantly, Alastor is truly getting sick and tired of seeing artwork and stories (which he sees online, despite himself not liking technology made past his human death) of himself getting transformed into other characters and creatures in both body and mind (sometimes from different series/franchise), which Alastor genuinely views as distasteful. So to teach the reader and his/her friend/sibling a lesson, Alastor (by some supernatural means) briefly left the series' Hell and into the real life Earth to kidnap both the reader and friend/sibling and sent them to the world of Hazbin Hotel before he uses supernatural black magic at both of them which turned them into his clones, thus turning both the reader and his/her friend/sibling into Alastor's identical twin brothers (both the reader and his/her friend/sibling notices that their grins were now unnaturally wide and permanent, both of them try to push their grins down with their own hands/fingers to get rid of the smiles in order to frown or show fear but they cannot due to making emotions other than smiling were completely impossible (they even asks in horror on why can't they stop smiling, before Alastor tells both of them that it is their nature to smile), both the reader and his/her friend/sibling also tries to fight those new memories and personality of Alastor flooding their heads, they both are horrified and not wanting to be completely transformed in either body or mind, but are fighting a losing battle, and Alastor tells both of them that this is their true selves and they are waking up from their false human dreams, making both the reader and his/her friend/sibling truly and fully believe in Alastor and realizes that they both had always been Alastors alongside the original Alastor, having been born as humans from the same human parents, enjoying their mother's cooking and their favorite food jambalaya, the trio of Alastors being radio show hosts and serial killers on Earth before the three of them were killed, three Alastor twins arriving in Hell as completely identical sinner demons nicknamed "The Radio Demons", as they continued their radio shows in Hell, and, despite finding Charlie Morningstar's (the princess of Hell) belief in redemption laughable, three Alastor twins want to help Charlie run the redemption hotel "Hazbin Hotel", albeit for their own amusement), and the reader's and his/her friend's sibling's minds have also been completely replaced with Alastor's mind, before original Alastor welcomes his twin brothers (the reader and his other definite sibling (formerly the reader's human friend/sibling)) back home. In the epilogue, the three Alastors (the original one and the cloned ones (who were once the human reader and his/her friend/sibling)) are in the Hazbin Hotel helping Charlie Morningstar with her redemption hotel ("Hazbin Hotel"), while also interacting with Vaggie (Charlie's girlfriend, who doesn't trust Alastor or his twin brothers, while Charlie trusts all three Alastors), Angel Dust (an adults/pornographic film actor who's a male spider-like humanoid sinner demon), Husk (a male cat-like humanoid sinner demon with bird-like wings who is a co-worker for Alastor and whose soul is owned by Alastor and his twin brothers), and Nifty (a miniscule female cyclops-like humanoid sinner demon who is a co-worker for Alastor and is positively acquainted (Alastor's role having described as having a view of Niffty as like his "obnoxious adopted daughter", being a daughter figure for Alastor despite not being related)). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're 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).

Response: You and your sibling had always loved reading fantasy stories together. One fateful evening, you both immersed yourselves in "Hazbin Hotel" fanfiction, the ambiance of your room dimmed with the glow of the laptop screen. Suddenly, the room's temperature dropped, and an eerie scarlet light bathed the space. "What the—?" you began, but the words were swallowed by a deep, resonating laughter that seemed to emanate from between the walls. Without warning, a tall, dark figure materialized. It was Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. His eyes were piercing, and that ever-present, unsettling grin made your skin crawl. "Good evening!" Alastor's voice was as charming as it was chilling. "I've grown weary of seeing myself twisted and transformed for the amusement of mere mortals. Time for a lesson in self-love!" Before you could react, shadows sprang from the ground wrapping around both you and your sibling, their grip tightening as your vision blurred. The last sound you heard was Alastor's laughter, a siren song to your encroaching doom. When you regained consciousness, the world felt different. The familiar room had transformed into a grand, vintage parlor. Gothic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting ominous shadows. You noticed your sibling first—or what had been your sibling. Now, they were a striking reflection, complete and uncanny down to the black-tipped hair and unnaturally broad smile. Horror infused your veins. “Why can’t I stop smiling?” Your voice didn't sound like yours. It was deep, melodious, like an old-fashioned radio announcer. You watched your sibling touch their face, and through their mirrored expressions, you knew they were feeling the same abject terror. You've tried to push down your cheeks, forcing a frown, but it was no use. The smile was permanent. It was your very being now. Alastor appeared before you, his own smile never wavering. “Welcome, my dear pawns, to your true forms! You see, beneath the veil of your human lives, you have always been part of me. A fragment of my essence. It’s time to truly wake up from your false human dreams.” "No! This can't be real," you screamed inside your head, but your well-mannered voice betrayed nothing of your inner turmoil. Memories, not your own, crashed into your mind, a deluge of someone else's life. You tried to recall your own—your favorite foods, your best friends, your childhood home—but each familiar image was replaced with memories of grandeur, murder, and the unmistakable satisfaction of watching others fail. The flood of new memories and personality traits was a battle hard-fought, but futile. “It’s your nature to smile,” Alastor’s voice echoed in your mind, solidifying the transformation. The truth settled like a dark cloud over your consciousness. You'd always been one of Alastor's siblings, after all. You remembered the buttery taste of your mother's jambalaya, your human broadcasts, the thrill of the hunt and your shared death in 1933. Then, your arrival in Hell, a new playground for your twisted pleasures. Tears of your forgotten humanity dried up, leaving you with the unnatural happiness of your cursed existence. “Ah, my dear brothers,” Alastor said, his voice laced with a joy that only he could find genuine. “Welcome home.” ### Days, weeks, months—the concept of time blurred in Hell. You, your sibling, and Alastor adapted to the life of the peculiar trio amidst Hazbin Hotel’s chaotic but strangely structured society. Charlie's earnest optimism was baffling but amusing. “Thank you for joining us!” she said with genuine sincerity, causing you to chuckle. The naivety was intoxicatingly refreshing, except you knew better. The redemption of souls? Laughable! The true fun resided in watching the chaos unfold. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at you—a suspicion clear as day. She didn't trust you, Alastor's other essence. But you played nice, ignoring the distrust and focusing on the sheer amusement of her feeble attempts to control the situation. “Don't screw this up!” She hissed once, to you and your clone-brother. You merely smiled wider if that were possible. Angel Dust, the ever-sarcastic wretch of the demon world, was another source of entertainment. “Hey, handsome, there's enough of me to go around! Or would you prefer some alone time with just one of me?” he’d quip, earning an eye-roll from Vaggie. Husk remained sullen—almost tragically so—his predicament locked in your grasp. He might have been a soul you owned, but, surprisingly, he was manageable. Drink in hand, he'd mutter curses, each one popping with a bitter taste you relished. Nifty, that tiny ball of domestic fury, still chattered at you, urging cleanliness and order. In her, you paradoxically found a strange comfort. Maybe it was her relentless energy or her odd fixation on cleanliness that reminded you of the chaos you left behind on Earth, bound to those simpler times. But in the deepest part of your darkened heart, you knew: This was where you belonged. In Hell’s marrows, playing pranks, lifting spirits only to dash them down, living out your eternally wakeful nightmare with the twisted perfection of your true self aligned. A redundant showman's life, another day's broadcast, another's soul bartered. Only you—no fragment of humanity left. Completely, irrevocably, Alastor's twin brother—you promised to keep the Radio Demon's name pleasingly notorious, fuelled eternally by sadistic joy. Charlie marched into the lobby one morning, her hopeful demeanor unchanged, her belief in redemption unwavering. She smiled at you warmly, her eyes full of brightness. "Good morning, Alastors! Ready for another productive day?" She beamed, her optimism almost infectious. "Of course, mademoiselle!" you responded, bowing slightly. "We live for the moments ready to unfold!" And thus, as Hell churned and spun, the three Alastors stood tall, ever-smiling, confidently wrapped in their deceitful charades, reveling in the beautifully devilish dance of the damned.

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