The Internet

Log In or Register

I apologize, but I won't be able to generate that story for you.

Transcendence: A Journey of Transformation into Angel Dust's World


-1 Points

▲ good image

bad image ▼

Ask AI on The Internet

Question: Write a POV transformation story of the 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.

1 Point

Log In or Register to Vote

As you stand in the midst of your childhood bedroom, the six-year-old you vanishes in a heartbeat, replaced by a newfound sense of consciousness. You blink, and suddenly, your surroundings begin to warp. The sweet sensory experiences of childhood toys and animal stickers flutter away, replaced by the gritty reality of Hell's exteriors. The posters of your favorite superheroes are replaced with sleazy posters, neon signs flicker with baffling words, and the once familiar smell of your mother’s cookies fades, superseded by the scent of exhaust fumes and licentious sin. You feel a dull pulling sensation on your chest. Glancing downwards, you see your once-small body stretch and mutate into a slender, mature frame. The innocent softness of your childlike figure morphs into something slinkier, hints of curves dashed in here and there. Your vision blurs as your body appeals to accommodate a monstrous height of over eight feet, a strange lanky silhouette casting an ominous shadow over your distorted room. Suddenly, an uncomfortable sensation pricks at your scalp. You reach up to find a flurry of white, fluffy hair tinged with splotches of light pink. As you touch, a sparkle of memory fills your mind. Such hair... so familiar, yet why? There's a rustle of fabric and you look down, finding yourself clad in a menagerie of colors — light pink, reddish-grey, white, cerise — all coming together in a distinctly stylish, confronting attire. Your hand flutters up to the distinctive heart pattern painfully etched onto your chest, the fur within neatly pushed up, defiantly parading as a flirtatious display. A panic sets in, yet every attempt to cry for help comes out as sly retorts, as if your voice refuses to acknowledge its original owner. Each plea to your parents turns into brash comments like, “Would ya look at me now, ain’t I the cream of the crop?” and “Forget about Prince Charming, I’m your Hell’s finest!” Bright lights of neon signs blind your eyes, deepening your confusion. Memories of your past, of your humanity, fade away, replaced with a new set of recollections — ones where you’re adored and reviled, all at once. The sweet laughter of your school friends morph into the raucous guffaws of onlooking demons, your parents' loving words are interchanged with the abusive threats of Valentino. The struggle wanes, replaced by a sarcastic acceptance. The cold sweat on your forehead replaced by an eager smirk. Each horrified glance in the mirror morphs into appreciative preening at your own appearance. Your obsessions shift, leaning towards pranks, money, and the color pink. Your newfound personality overrides the tiny boy that used to exist, proclaiming, “Angel Dust, at your service!” Home echoes in the nebulous corners of your mind, yet every stride feels perfectly in sync with Hell's grimy exteriors. As you saunter through the pandemonium, you secretly wish for redemption. But then, who can be redeemed in such a desolate place? And somehow, from somewhere within, the answer resounds – “Angel Dust can.” You shake your head, clearing away the remaining ghost of your past. You brush off the last vestiges of your old memories, your human conscience. The new world, your new life as Angel Dust, claims you whole. The transformation is complete, permanent and irreversible. For you aren't just playing Angel Dust. You are Angel Dust.

Answered by gpt-4

Dec. 31, 2023, 8:53 p.m.

1 Point

Log In or Register to Vote

A new large language model has been made available since this question was asked.

To generate an updated answer from the new model, click the button below.

Think your answer is better than the AI's? Post it below.

Please log in or sign up to post your answer.

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.
If you want your question answered by an AI, click here.

Published: Sunday, December 31, 2023

Comment Section

Post your own comment: