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Question: Write the POV transformation story of the mortal human reader turning into Crimson (from the Helluva Boss series), complete with gender change (if the reader is a female), clothes change, age change, height change, reality/world change (the reader's real world warping and turning into the world of Helluva Boss), and mind/mental change (with the reader's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Crimson's personality and memories, despite the reader's best efforts on fighting these mental changes, making the reader permanently and completely forget about his past self as a normal human and only remember being Crimson, an imp and a mafia leader). The transformation into Fizzarolli is permanent (meaning it's forever) and completely irreversible. For Crimson's appearance (after the reader turned into him), he is a quite tall imp demon, standing closer in height to Blitzo, with white hair, black and white striped horns, and yellow sclera. Like all imps, he lacks visible ears or nostrils. Around his eyes are white markings, with the right being larger than the left. He possesses a crooked and bent tail with white accents near the base and on the middle of his tail fork. His appearance is similar to his son Moxxie, with similar hair and shape of his horns, however larger and slightly more jagged. Unlike his son (Moxxie), Crimson's skin is a darker shade of red and his legs appear to be plantigrade (like a human's), rather than digitigrade, but still have red cloven hooves (unlike human feet). He also has short-clawed fingers on his hands. Crimson has a short reptilian-looking muzzle and all of his teeth are sharp fangs, while one of his fangs is a golden fang unlike the other teeth (which are white). Crimson's attire consists of a red high-collar shirt that grips his neck, topped by a navy blue coat with light blue accents, thin red stripes, red buttons, and red lining. His pants are dark blue which also have thin red stripes, and his shoes are black and red-heeled dress shoes. He also wears a black fedora with a red and white band. Crimson is a vicious and extremely ruthless crime boss that controls a large army of shark-like demon gangsters. He is horrifically abusive towards Moxxie since his childhood, constantly levying physical and psychological abuse towards Moxxie, and by extension his wife. He cultivates an aura of fear in those that know him, even towards his own family members and close associates like Moxxie and Chazwick. Ultimately, his greed and power come first to him, and he harbors no remorse for his victims. This comes to the point that he appears mentally prepared to kill blood-related family members, such as his wife and Moxxie, to advance his personal goals. Despite this, he is capable of exhibiting a seemingly jovial, warm, happy, and even charismatic presence when he chooses to do so, such as during his initial meeting with Blitzo and Millie, or during moments when he feels comfortable. However, he can be quick to discard this external display of affection as required. For Crimson's preference, he likes smoking, monetary gain, organized crime, mistreating Moxxie, and hanging body parts of his victims as house decorations; he however dislikes anyone who double-crosses him, anyone lesser than him, and anyone talking back to him. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking.
As I stand in my mundane, human home, I feel a peculiar sensation creeping into my bones. An oddity begins to spread throughout my body, subtle at first then rapidly progressing. One moment I'm in my living room, the next my vision blurs, the walls around me shifting and stretching in surreal manners. The world around me swirls into a whirlpool of color and reality, and suddenly, I'm no longer in the world I know. The world that replaces my old reality is grotesque and monstrous, like something out of a fever dream. The air is heavy, burdened by the aroma of sulfur and desperate pleas for mercy. The environment is dotted with structures that resemble a dystopian version of a city: skyscrapers composed from bones, walkways cramped with numerous demonic creatures and a crimson-hued sky filled with flying paradoxical beasts. This is the world of Helluva Boss, but not as a spectator. Something pulses violently within me. I feel my clothing getting tighter against my body as my frame elongates, growing taller and more robust. My short human hair becomes long and unruly, bleaching into a stark white as horns sprout from my skull. I bend down to look at my fingers just as they reshape into short, sharp claws. Discarded human clothing lies in tatters around me, now replaced with a red high-collar shirt, a navy-blue coat, a black fedora, and black-red-heeled dress shoes. I try to rationalize, try to fight against the reality-warped madness, but the physical changes are only the beginning. The dreaded sense of personality alteration glazes over me. It tries to introduce foreign memories, encourages me to relish in brutality, avarice, and power. I fight against it, desperate to retain my own memory... but it's fruitless. It’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with sheer willpower. This alien persona, this Crimson, erases my existence with an unwavering relentlessness. Licking my lips, I feel the sharp edge of a golden fang that's not my own, or rather, it belongs to ‘Crimson’, a new occupant of my body. I catch my reflection on a nearby mirror, the image no longer resembling the human I was. Staring back at me is a tall, menacing imp demon, yellow sclera framing the predatory gaze. Light from a nearby fire illuminates the white markings around my eyes, a sinister grin pulls at my reptilian muzzle as I strut forward. I struggle to keep my conscience above the rising tide of Crimson's personality, but I’m drowning. "What is happening...?" My voice sounds different, accented and cruel. It's horrifying. It's intoxicating. The Crimson's voice interacts with the memories and experiences leaving ripples of the imp's identity on me. Slowly, the grip on my own thoughts weakens. My past slipping steadily into oblivion, replaced with his memories, his habits, his desires. There's a moment of silent horror as the last vestiges of my humanity slip away forever. This is no longer a transformation, it's being overwritten. Crimson's voice, my voice, laughs, a sound that echoes eerily across the dystopian cityscape. "Who knew humans could be so entertaining," he says, a cheeky smirk now permanent on his face as he strolls further into his empire. The world greets him with fear and respect, responding to his demands without questions. He lights a cigar, blowing out a puff of smoke as the world around him kneels in his submission. Crimson reigns, for I am no more.
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