Habits and skin sheds vary depending on the location where the deer lives; in colder environments such as the Arctic, the deer's coat will be thicker, providing better insulation. The males' antlers

### The Transformation of Alastor into a Male Deer The underworld's murky red glow seemed to pulse with a rhythm that matched Alastor's casual stride. With an air of supreme confidence, the Radio Demon meandered through the fiery streets of Hell, twirling his cane with practiced flair. His constant grin and dapper attire made him stand out amidst the chaotic backdrop. Suddenly, an unnatural shiver coursed through Alastor's body. He stopped abruptly, monocle slipping momentarily out of place. His ever-present grin faltered, and for the first time in decades, genuine confusion painted his features. The sensation returned, more powerful this time, spreading from his core out to his extremities. His flesh began to ripple as if a hundred spiders were crawling beneath his skin. He dropped his cane, his hands - or were they now paws? - shaking uncontrollably. Looking down, he saw his fingers begin to shape-shift, elongating and merging until they formed solid, dark-red hooves. “What in blazes is happening?” His voice, usually confident and resonant, trembled with uncertainty. Before he could fully process this, his arms and legs began to change. The sleeves of his red pinstripe coat and the cuffs of his black dress pants tore away as his limbs lengthened and bent awkwardly, pitching him forward. Alastor’s spine realigned with nauseating force, shoving him to the ground. His view of the world shifted as he struggled to adjust from a bipedal perspective to a quadrupedal stance. He attempted to relay a commanding shout, hoping to draw the attention of his demonic thralls. Instead, a harsh, animalistic bellow escaped his throat. His neck stretched, and his face contorted painfully, lengthening into a snout. His sharp, yellow teeth merged into a set more suited to grazing, and his monocle clattered to the cobbled street, no longer fitting his changing visage. As Alastor's once-dark, vibrant eyes transformed into rounded black orbs, he could feel his devilish antlers - harbingers of fear - morphing. They grew larger, curving naturally as a deer's would, though they retained the menacing black tips characteristic of his former self. His red coat faded into a coat of reddish-brown fur, blending seamlessly with his growing form. His outfit stretched and ripped away, fluttering to the ground as mere remnants of his past identity. His height decreased drastically, though his body grew bulkier to match his new mass. Muscle memory fought against the overwhelming alterations; Alastor tried to maintain his upright posture, only to tumble forward repeatedly as his body insisted on a deer's quadrupedal stance. Alastor’s internal panic grew. Frantically, he tried to hold on to his memories, his power, his very essence. Yet, they slipped away like sand through his hooves. The Radio Demon, the terror of the underworld, felt his mind fragmenting. The memories of broadcasting chaos, of his blood-stained reign in Hell, began to fade. In their place, new memories blossomed – a different life, in a different realm. He recalled the feel of the wind rustling his fur through a serene forest, the taste of fresh, dewy grass. Alastor the demon gave way to Alastor the deer. His sense of self fragmented and merged into the simple existence of a woodland creature driven by instinct. Though his new form was imposing for a deer, with antlers stretching up to 60 centimeters and weighing up to 136 kilograms, his once malevolent demeanor was replaced with a cautious curiosity. He shook his head, as if attempting to free the last vestiges of his demonic past. Yet, the transformation was nearly complete. As the last fragments of sentient thought dissolved, his eyes no longer reflected a cunning mind, but the gentle awareness of a deer. Alastor’s newly refined ears twitched at the sound of an approaching predator. Instinctively, he bolted, muscles working in harmony as he bounded through the forest, leaving behind the echoes of his demonic past. Now, where there once stood the fearsome Radio Demon, only a proud male deer roamed, bearing vestiges of his old self in his antlers and vibrant fur, yet fully immersed in the simple, instinctual life of a wild creature.

Alastor, the Radio Demon of Hell, reveled in his usual chaos at the Hazbin Hotel. The morning began like any other—mischief, mayhem, and a touch of malevolent charm. He twirled his cane, grinning broadly, his eyes gleaming like radio dials as he spoke in his trademark transatlantic accent. But little did he know, a transformation beyond anything he'd ever experienced was about to begin. It started with a strange sensation at the tips of his fingers, which were elegant knives of red. Slowly, they began to meld and harden, merging into solid, dark hoofs. Alastor's typically broad, predatory smile faltered as he watched his hands—the tools of his might and mastery—morphing uncontrollably. Red faded to brown, and fingers were no more. His lithe, dapper figure—so unique and sharp in appearance—started to crouch. He felt his knees buckle, pulling him towards an unfamiliar stance. Panic twitched at the corners of his mind, but he maintained his smile through sheer force of will. The always-upright silhouette started to hunch, bones rearranging to accommodate a quadrupedal frame. His broad coat fluttered down, the sharp lapels and ragged hems flapping meekly as he shifted to all fours. Alastor's ears, originally stylized tufts that hinted at a deer’s form, elongated and rounded, growing wider, assuming the full dimensions of a real deer's ears. They pricked up in sudden alarm, catching sounds with a newfound sharpness. His face stretched and contorted, the sharp angles softening into a long, slender snout. His terrifyingly sharp teeth dulled to flat, herbivorous ones, entirely unsuited to his former predatory existence. His vibrant red eyes slowly bled into pure, round blackness. The world seemed to shift with this change in perception, colors dulling, but senses sharpening in different, unexpected ways. The familiar radio-themed monocle tumbled down, forgotten and useless. His rich, beige skin slowly covered with a short, ruddy fur, deepening into a reddish-brown pelt as his whole body thickened and rounded out. The terrifying height of seven feet dwindled gradually. His torso shortened while his limbs lengthened and grew more robust, fitting his new frame as a male deer. Alastor's voice—a voice that commanded fear, respect, and amusement—faltered to impulses and snorts, thoughts turning less to schemes and more to survival instincts. His notorious self-importance warred against the creeping, fundamental simplicity of his changing mind. A massive pair of antlers, much larger than the tiny nubs he was accustomed to, sprouted atop his head, growing and branching out into majestic and practical ornaments. His transformation complete, Alastor's height now least resembled his former glory, standing just at a withers height of 120 centimeters. His once refined figure now bore the muscular, grounded stance of a male deer, elegant in an entirely different way. Despite the radical change, Alastor fought to hold onto his memories. He tried to cling to the knowledge, identities, and intricacies that made him the Radio Demon. Yet, as minutes turned into an unbearably cruel eternity, memories of the Hazbin Hotel and his malevolent exploits blurred into a haze. His ears twitched, catching the rustle of leaves rather than screams. His mind, which had been a tapestry of cunning plots and insidious charm, shifted to simpler, primal urges. Thoughts of mischief and mayhem dissolved into a need to graze, to find shelter, to sense danger. Alastor’s new reality inevitably seeped in, swiping clean his sinister slate. Just as he tried to remember his fitting titles and charming smile, the forest of instinct grew thicker, until all he could think of was the grass beneath his hooves and the wind through the leaves. Alastor—once the feared and admired Radio Demon of Hell—was now just a male deer in a forest, his past life reduced to nothing more than fleeting shadows amongst the trees.

As Alastor walked through Hell, something felt peculiarly off. There was a change in the air, a swiftness that gave birth to an otherworldly sensation crawling under his skin. His senses were far more advanced than the other sinners, being a sinner demon himself. He was more savvy about situations turning ugly in a blink. Yet, he had no inkling of the impending change that was about to befall him. Suddenly, a shimmering beam of light engulfed him. His body felt light, his mind dizzy and the essence of his being disoriented. In that moment, Alastor knew that something was wrong, but he had little time to ponder as an intense strain tightened every fiber of his being. His sharp, dapper form began to shrink, dimming his intimidating stance. His body compressed, buckling under a strange force that was inexorably transforming him. He could feel his egregiously long limbs contracting, his skin taking on the texture of soft fur and his eyes morphing, shrinking and glowing with an innocent charm. Reality struck Alastor as his body lowered itself to an unnerving quadrupedal posture; his limbs didn't feel like arms and legs anymore, more like hoofed legs. His once humanoid face was stretching out before him into a rounded snout, his mouth filling with flat, vegetarian teeth. His eyes adjusted into large, rounded portals, absorbing the ambient light of Hell with a new-found clarity. As his arms molded themselves into sturdy front legs, the microphone from his cane clattered to the ground, the voice of Hell rendered silent. His threads transformed into a thick, beautiful, reddish-brown fur. His antlers, humbler than before, embossed on his head, bearing testament to his identity as a male deer. Alarmingly, changes were not only physical. His mind, once filled with chaos and amusement, seemed to be slowly wiping clean. Old memories and personalities gave way to instincts, his memories overridden by a deer's simple desires, his wit replaced by fear and alertness. Yet, Alastor clung to his recollections, his bewitching smile, his demon form; he resisted this transformation of the mind. But the sins don't get to choose their punishment in Hell, do they? His resistance ended in vain, the essence of Alastor fading into a newly formed deer, a creature absent of sin and lacking any remnant of the once notorious radio demon. The personality of a male deer now dominated his existence, his mind devoid of all past memories. The transformation was complete, a deer now stood in the place of Alastor - a gentle, innocent creature, out of place in the snarling, sinful landscape of Hell. Although devoid of Alastor's memories and demeanor, the deer bore a trace of something familiar - the shadow of a wide grin under a pair of large, luminescent eyes. Any remnants of Alastor's personality, however, were just that: shadows; traces of a past life now forgotten. The deer was truly a deer, wildlife adrift in Hell's fiery wasteland.