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From Innocence to Sin: The Spellbinding Transformation of a Boy into Angel Dust


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Question: Write a POV transformation story of a male human reader (a boy of 6 years old) turning into Angel Dust (from an adults animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with age progression (aging to around 30s in a blink of an eye), height progression, reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Hazbin Hotel), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being completely replaced with Angel's personality and memories, despite all of the reader's best yet failed attempts on fighting off these mental changes and his attempts to call the reader's parents for help, making him completely forget about his past self, having no memories of being a mortal human, and only remembered ever being a spider-like adults actor Angel Dust). The transformation into Angel Dust is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Angel Dust's appearance (after the kid reader turned into him), he is a sinner demon who has a slender build (almost mimicking feminine curves) and he stands about 8 or more feet tall, both due to his long torso and legs, as well as due to 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 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 preference, he likes drugs, being abrasive, pranks, getting into scraps, Cooking, flirting, the color pink, money, and Italian food; however, he dislikes his own feet, losing credibility, Valentino's abuse to him, and memorizing scripts. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.

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One moment, he was a six-year-old boy, happily playing with his toys within the sanctuary of his bedroom. The next, he felt an alien force rippling through the depths of his being. From the top of his fluffy, blond head to the tips of his toes, everything began to morph and twist in ways so profound that he was frozen in disbelief and shock. The boy, once standing no taller than a kitchen counter, was now rapidly ascending in height. He watched, filled with a strange combination of horror and fascination, as his arms shrunk in width but shot out in length. A dull throbbing filled his chest, followed by the chill of growing fur—a stark white contrasting his previously smooth, sun-kissed skin. He gazed down, his heart pounding in tandem with the rapid transformation. "The chest... It's just fur," he whispered, his voice ringing out strange in his ears—an echo of a New York accent imbued with a certain roughness. A heart pattern blossomed across his chest and head, a light pink that was almost shocking amidst his otherwise white fur. His eyelids felt heavy and when he blinked, a foreign sensation of thick lashes brushing his cheeks made him jump. The odd transformations marched on—his vision splitting into multiple viewpoints as extra eyes punctuated under his cerise pink irises; sharp teeth, and a single golden fang, replacing his previously rounded, fit for a human mouth. His clothes evolved, morphed, transfigured, replicating the iconic attire of Angel Dust. A light pink blazer, a reddish-grey miniskirt and remarkably high-heeled boots. The bowtie. The choker. The gloves. "I've turned into a...", his eyes darted to the full-length mirror hanging on his once familiar bedroom wall—a stark reminder that his childhood was now an irretrievable memory, replaced by the towering figure that Angel Dust represented. Panic set in as he felt his world literally shift beneath his feet—the boring bricks of his home warping into the grungy, graffiti-covered structures of Hell. "No... No, this isn't right... Mom! Dad!" he cried—his voice now wholly Angel's, echoing in the empty hellish city. To his horror, he felt his memories fade, replaced by Angel's. The birthday parties, the school pictures, the family picnics—all being washed away. Instead, images of Italian food, a flavorful mix of alcohol, and snippets of an actor's lifestyle filled his rapidly altering mind. His distaste for Valentino, his unease at the scripts he had to memorize all coalesced within him, turning him into the Angel Dust of Hazbin Hotel's reality. The change continued until the young child was completely gone, replaced by the flamboyantly evil Angel Dust. "I'm... I'm Angel Dust," he whispered, the realization sinking into the depths of his now altered soul. His humanity was lost, buried beneath layers of his new, demonic self—a transformation that was forevermore. His life as a boy was nothing more than a faint echo—a past life he no longer could recall. The reality sank in, chilling him to the bone. For now, he was Angel Dust—a sinner demon leading a life in Hazbin Hotel. Despite all this, the essence of his being fought to communicate through Angel's wall of arrogance, a whispering voice in the back of his mind: "Don't forget who you are... Fight it... Remember!" But it was too late. He was Angel Dust now. Forever and always. The transformation was not just physical but a complete, irreversible soul transfiguration. His reality was no longer a simple bedroom but the din and chaos of Hell. Despite the overwhelming terror, he was left with the bitter taste of acceptance. "I am Angel Dust," he said again—this time, not in shocked realization, but acceptance.

Answered by gpt-4

Dec. 31, 2023, 9:03 p.m.

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This article was generated in part by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model, answering user Anthonyoarchnis's question. Images were generated with OpenAI's AI model, DALL·E 2. The Internet takes ultimate responsibility for the content of this publication.
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Published: Sunday, December 31, 2023

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