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Tails's Transformation into Angel Dust 3

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### The Transformation of Tails: Into the Dust of Angels

The sun blazed orange, setting behind the hilltops of Mobius, casting long shadows across the fields. Miles "Tails" Prower sat by the workshop window, tinkering with a small gadget he’d developed—an interdimensional communicator, a whimsical project aimed at connecting different worlds for exploratory adventures with Sonic and their friends.

He remembered Sonic’s transformation into Alastor the Radio Demon all too well—a thread from another universe had yanked his friend away, changing his world irrevocably. The disruptions had been multidimensional anomalies, but Tails was determined to understand and fix them.

However, today, a different fate awaited him.

“I’m sure this will work,” Tails murmured to himself, twisting a screwdriver into the final bolt. The communicator buzzed alive, its screen flickering with various symbols. “Alright, here we go!”

With a deep breath, Tails activated the device. The room filled with a bright, warping light. Before he could react, the world around him twisted and contorted. His tools, once comforting and familiar, melted into grotesque, otherworldly forms. The solid ground beneath him morphed, pulling away into a void.

A piercing pain spread through his body. His limbs felt like they were being stretched and transformed. "What’s... happening?" Tails groaned, clutching his head.

His body elongated rapidly. Standing upright, he observed his fur changing from his familiar orange to an ethereal white. Fluffy hair emerged in disheveled tufts, marked by pink spots, and a heart-shaped pattern appeared on the back of his head. His eyes adjusted to new heights as he stared into reflective surfaces, watching his own cerise pink irises form.

Tails’ clothes morphed abruptly. One moment he was in his usual gear, and the next, he was swathed in a chic, long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes and a miniskirt of reddish-grey. Thigh-high heeled boots clasped his feet, elevating him even further.

“No, no, no!” Tails shouted, realizing he was quickly becoming someone else. He tried to cling to his memories—running through Green Hill Zone, inventing gadgets, his friendship with Sonic—each slipping like sand through his fingers.

“Hey, darling. Welcome to Hell,” a sarcastic voice cut through his thoughts. Tails, now nearly fully Angel Dust, turned to see a grinning demon—Valentino. "Fuckin' beautiful, ain't it?" he sneered.

Glancing into a panoramic mirror, Tails saw his transformation near completion. The face of Tails, the beloved twin-tailed fox, was almost unrecognizable. His mouth stretched painfully into a wide smile, revealing sharp, pointed teeth set around a singular golden fang.

“No! This isn’t me!” Tails fought to hold onto himself. "I’m Tails—just Tails!"

“Tails? Sugar, that name’s history,” Valentino mocked. “You’re Angel Dust now.”

Memories of Tails’ life dissolved, replaced by sordid recollections of a different existence: scuffles in Hell, bouts with illicit drugs, fluorescent lights of seedy venues, and the dark abyss of associating with Valentino. Desperation seared through his mind as he struggled in vain.

“Fuck,” Angel Dust, fully transformed, spat out. "It’s me, Angel. How am I dealin' with this crap again?"

He clenched his fists, six arms flexing involuntarily. He felt the sting of unwanted memories—that small hope for redemption, buried under layers of defensiveness and flamboyant arrogance. The shell of Tails’ innocence lay broken, obscured entirely.

“Alright, Val, what the fuck do you need now?” Angel Dust’s voice, laced with a thick New York accent, resonated with a mix of resignation and resilience.

Valentino’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. “Now that’s my Angel. Let’s get to work,” he chuckled darkly.

As he walked through the darkened alleys of Hell, Angel Dust—the sinner demon—performed an excessive confidence, a flamboyant embrace of his transformed self. Yet, in the deep, unsearchable parts of his mind, a fractured whisper of the kind-hearted fox whispered into the void.

Even amid the crass bravado, quirks, and curse-laden wit, a fragment of something purer lay dormant, awaiting its chance to resurface. But for now, Angel Dust’s journey moved forward, one convoluted step at a time.

---

Twisting through the sinister world of Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust caught a reflective surface—a shadow of a memory—briefly showing Tails’ familiar visage. He blinked, and it was gone.

"Sonic… sorry, bud," Angel muttered, accessing memories that he couldn't fully grasp. The struggle of Tails vanished for good, leaving only Angel Dust to navigate the lurid chaos of Hell.

The transformation was complete. A tale of innocence turned into a saga of survival, enveloped in the clashing realities of two disparate worlds fused forever in the fantastic web of destiny. And thus, Tails the Fox had become Angel Dust, a sinner of Hell with scars of his own to bear.

This story was generated by user Fizzarolli-Attack-2 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 transformation story of Tails (from the Sonic The Hedgehog games) turning into Angel Dust (from an adults cartoon/animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with clothes gaining (where Angel Dust's clothes appear on his body out of nowhere), age progression (turning from 8 years old somewhere in his 30s), height progression (growing from 2.7 feet tall to 8 feet tall), reality change (Tails's world warping and turning into the world of Hazbin Hotel), and mind/mental change (with Tails's personality and memories being completely replaced with Angel Dust's personality and memories, despite his best efforts on fighting off to preserve his personality and memories, making him only remember being Angel Dust). For Angel Dust's appearance (after Tails turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves, despite being a male) and he stands about 8 or more feet tall, both due to his long torso and legs, as well as his heeled boots. His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area. His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick. His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center. He has a New York accent. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes. He lacks a nose and ears, giving him a less "human" appearance. One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show. Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves. Though, usually seen with six limbs (two legs and four arms), Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will (meaning that he can have eight limbs; two legs and six arms). Angel is gay (homosexual), brash, and sarcastic, with a quick, sharp wit, often with bad/strong language (including, but not limited to f-bomb words). He will often use these traits to deflect criticism or insults, and side-step responsibility. He will switch between playful and destructive as he pleases, and his humor tends to be crude and crass, with an emphasis on dirty jokes and innuendos, which he feels is expected of him and actively plays into. He is stylish and performs an excessive amount of confidence with his public persona, being wildly flirtatious and interested in receiving positive attention for his looks and the profile he has made for himself in Hell. He also makes a show of looking down others, declaring the other denizens of Hell to be mostly "ugly freaks". As a result, Angel can often appear flippant and callous. In reality he is preemptively defensive and hides much of his true, more sensitive and insecure, self for his own protection, not expecting those around him to show him kindness. Angel does have friends, and while he cares about them and will sometimes show signs of wanting to reach out, he keeps many walls up between himself and others, being very protective of his true feelings and avoiding holding overly emotional relationships. He holds a cynical view on the idea of redemption, although he seems to still hold onto a small hope it may be possible for him. The ongoing controlling and abusive situation he is in with his boss, Valentino, puts him under a great deal of stress at his work, and he is implied to be somewhat traumatized as a result. For Angel Dust's preferences, he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, cooking, flirting, the color pink, money, and Italian food, but he dislikes his own feet (he would avoid sex work that involved his feet, or else he would be angry about it if it was unavoidable), losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to Angel, and memorizing scripts. There should also be quotes from the characters (including but not limited to Tails or Angel Dust) in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking (including profanities/swears that are used/said by Angel Dust, Valentino, etc). This story takes place after the story in this link: https://www.theinternet.io/ai/story/detail/fading-echoes-the-rise-of-the-radio-demon/ , meaning that Sonic had already transformed into Alastor the Radio Demon.

Response: ### The Transformation of Tails: Into the Dust of Angels The sun blazed orange, setting behind the hilltops of Mobius, casting long shadows across the fields. Miles "Tails" Prower sat by the workshop window, tinkering with a small gadget he’d developed—an interdimensional communicator, a whimsical project aimed at connecting different worlds for exploratory adventures with Sonic and their friends. He remembered Sonic’s transformation into Alastor the Radio Demon all too well—a thread from another universe had yanked his friend away, changing his world irrevocably. The disruptions had been multidimensional anomalies, but Tails was determined to understand and fix them. However, today, a different fate awaited him. “I’m sure this will work,” Tails murmured to himself, twisting a screwdriver into the final bolt. The communicator buzzed alive, its screen flickering with various symbols. “Alright, here we go!” With a deep breath, Tails activated the device. The room filled with a bright, warping light. Before he could react, the world around him twisted and contorted. His tools, once comforting and familiar, melted into grotesque, otherworldly forms. The solid ground beneath him morphed, pulling away into a void. A piercing pain spread through his body. His limbs felt like they were being stretched and transformed. "What’s... happening?" Tails groaned, clutching his head. His body elongated rapidly. Standing upright, he observed his fur changing from his familiar orange to an ethereal white. Fluffy hair emerged in disheveled tufts, marked by pink spots, and a heart-shaped pattern appeared on the back of his head. His eyes adjusted to new heights as he stared into reflective surfaces, watching his own cerise pink irises form. Tails’ clothes morphed abruptly. One moment he was in his usual gear, and the next, he was swathed in a chic, long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes and a miniskirt of reddish-grey. Thigh-high heeled boots clasped his feet, elevating him even further. “No, no, no!” Tails shouted, realizing he was quickly becoming someone else. He tried to cling to his memories—running through Green Hill Zone, inventing gadgets, his friendship with Sonic—each slipping like sand through his fingers. “Hey, darling. Welcome to Hell,” a sarcastic voice cut through his thoughts. Tails, now nearly fully Angel Dust, turned to see a grinning demon—Valentino. "Fuckin' beautiful, ain't it?" he sneered. Glancing into a panoramic mirror, Tails saw his transformation near completion. The face of Tails, the beloved twin-tailed fox, was almost unrecognizable. His mouth stretched painfully into a wide smile, revealing sharp, pointed teeth set around a singular golden fang. “No! This isn’t me!” Tails fought to hold onto himself. "I’m Tails—just Tails!" “Tails? Sugar, that name’s history,” Valentino mocked. “You’re Angel Dust now.” Memories of Tails’ life dissolved, replaced by sordid recollections of a different existence: scuffles in Hell, bouts with illicit drugs, fluorescent lights of seedy venues, and the dark abyss of associating with Valentino. Desperation seared through his mind as he struggled in vain. “Fuck,” Angel Dust, fully transformed, spat out. "It’s me, Angel. How am I dealin' with this crap again?" He clenched his fists, six arms flexing involuntarily. He felt the sting of unwanted memories—that small hope for redemption, buried under layers of defensiveness and flamboyant arrogance. The shell of Tails’ innocence lay broken, obscured entirely. “Alright, Val, what the fuck do you need now?” Angel Dust’s voice, laced with a thick New York accent, resonated with a mix of resignation and resilience. Valentino’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. “Now that’s my Angel. Let’s get to work,” he chuckled darkly. As he walked through the darkened alleys of Hell, Angel Dust—the sinner demon—performed an excessive confidence, a flamboyant embrace of his transformed self. Yet, in the deep, unsearchable parts of his mind, a fractured whisper of the kind-hearted fox whispered into the void. Even amid the crass bravado, quirks, and curse-laden wit, a fragment of something purer lay dormant, awaiting its chance to resurface. But for now, Angel Dust’s journey moved forward, one convoluted step at a time. --- Twisting through the sinister world of Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust caught a reflective surface—a shadow of a memory—briefly showing Tails’ familiar visage. He blinked, and it was gone. "Sonic… sorry, bud," Angel muttered, accessing memories that he couldn't fully grasp. The struggle of Tails vanished for good, leaving only Angel Dust to navigate the lurid chaos of Hell. The transformation was complete. A tale of innocence turned into a saga of survival, enveloped in the clashing realities of two disparate worlds fused forever in the fantastic web of destiny. And thus, Tails the Fox had become Angel Dust, a sinner of Hell with scars of his own to bear.

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