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Question: Write the transformation story of a human reader turning into Angel "Anthony" Dust (from the adult animated series Hazbin Hotel), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), age change, 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 attempt on fighting off these mental changes, making the reader 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 Lucifer Morningstar is permanent (meaning it is forever) and completely irreversible. For Angel Dust's appearance (after the reader 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 in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
Just an ordinary evening, you were curled up on your couch, engrossed in the engrossing world of Hazbin Hotel. You especially adored Anthony "Angel Dust" and his unconventional charm. On a whim, you muttered, "I would give anything to be Angel Dust even for a moment." Suddenly, a shimmering glow enveloped your surroundings. With a gasp, you felt the tug of transformation. An undeniable surge of otherworldliness pulsed through your body while your mental cosmos grappled against this inexplicable gravity. "I don't... I can't... Understand", you muttered apprehensively. But the transformation was relentless, the pull stronger, reshaping your reality against your constant struggles. Gradually, you felt the pressure against your feet, forcing you to stand taller. An extraordinary growth spurt, which brought you to staggering 8 feet, your legs following a spindle-like model. With each passing second, you could feel the strange emaciation, settling upon a sinewy frame. You touched your new slender form — even surprisingly soft and round across the chest. "What in the heck is going on?!" you exclaimed, hearing an unfamiliar voice— New York accent radiated off your tongue through an unsettling melody of fear and fascination. Your vision was altered next. The world started to look different, almost fourfold vivid as cerise-pink eyes replaced your once ordinary eyes. Shockingly, you discovered a smaller set under the main, connected by vibrant freckles. With an unimaginable force seeping through your body, your frail arms pulled apart into multiple strong limbs. Six, then eight— it wouldn't stop. "Stop! Please stop! What are you doing to me!" The cry echoed futilely around the room. As you touched your hair, it felt fluffy, glistening white, trimmed with shades of pink. Strangely, you found your ears and nose had vanished, giving you a distinctly non-human look. A gust of wind blew across the room, heavily tainted with the scent of hellfire and brimstone as your surroundings started blur, reshaping into the ruthless world of Hazbin Hotel. Your thoughts became a potent concoction of unknown memories— the infinite gigs, the noxious drugs, years under the despicable Valentino, every heartbreak, every triumph. The sweet savory taste of Italian dishes, the ecstasy of being the center of all attention and a distinctive Signature New York accent— all heightening your cognizance. You tried to fight it, desperately clinging to your human past; but it was gradually being swept away in the relentless tide of new experiences. All of a sudden, you could feel the sharp edges of your new teeth against the tongue, a single golden fang bizarrely out of place. Then brushed your fingers over your fluffy, fur-covered chest and felt the warmth run through you. The reality crumbled bit by bit, replaced by damning insanity. Your ordinary clothes turned into the distinctive Angel Dust ensemble that you adored once— a long light pink suit-blazer, striped in white, a reddish-grey miniskirt, the long thigh-high heeled boots wrapped around slender legs. The cerise pink gloves and white ones on alternating arms, the bowtie, the choker, everything matched your surreal transformation. Your mental fortitude was collapsing, the onslaught of Angel Dust's persona was overpowering. At last, the floodgates burst open, washing away everything you ever were, every human tick and quirk, every memory. You fell to your knees, surrendering to the onslaught, and accepted Anthony's mentality and your new reality. “What? It’s a survival thing!" The world darkened, then illuminated again, no ordinary apartment but a place filled with constant danger. Many faces stared at you. Some leered, while others fearfully acknowledged the devilishly charming Angel Dust. Standing tall with new-found confidence, you smirked — your mind no longer a pool of contradictions, filled with the undeniable reality of your existence. "If this is hell, at least it's familiar," you said, fanning out your six arms with the signature Angel Dust sass. "I am Anthony." And in that moment, all traces of your former self ceased to exist, replaced forever, the gruesome, comical, and bittersweet life of being Anthony, Angel Dust.
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