Her eyes are brown, Her muzzle is longer and narrower than in the male, and her ears are small and slightly pointed. She has light brown fur on her belly, a light reddish-brown stripe down her spine,

Alastor couldn't help but admire his reflection in the vintage mirror hanging in his room at the Happy Hotel. His sharp, broad smile glinted back at him, its edges as crisp as the lines of his tailored red pinstripe coat. His dark-red sclerae eyes shifted ever so slightly, catching the faint glow from the underworld outside. Most in this place were unaware of the impending shift that would soon call him away from this demonic realm. It had begun as just another day in Hell when a curious old book Alastor had picked up during a rare outing caught his attention. Its cover was cryptic, laden with archaic symbols and an illustration of a deer embossed in gold. He wasn't one to dabble in unknown magic recklessly, but his curiosity, mixed with an inherent sense of superiority, drove him to incant the strange spell within it. Alastor’s surroundings warped as the magic unfolded, the haunting strains of an otherworldly melody weaving through the air. His overarching grin faltered briefly as he felt a pulse of energy surge through his being. He clutched his vintage microphone cane tighter, but even its sentient presence couldn't stave off the inevitable transformation. His stance grew unsteady as the magic worked its way through his body. A vertiginous wave rippled through his form, and Alastor’s height began to diminish rapidly. His monocle slipped off as his surroundings seemed to grow larger. His tailored coat and trousers became oversized, draping around him like crumpled fabric ruins. He reflexively tried to steady himself on his legs, but they began to bend and reshape themselves, forcing him onto all fours. His manicured fingers fused together, forearms and lower legs deepening in hue, the transformation accelerating until his hands and feet were completely replaced by sleek, red hooves. Alastor’s face contorted as it pushed outward, his nose and mouth extending into a delicate snout, rounded black eyes taking precedence over his once vibrant red irises. The distinctly human characteristics of his visage faded away, replaced by the soft, gentle lines of a deer's face. The sharp corners and angles of his masculine frame assumed smoother, graceful curves typical of a female deer. His once remarkable antlers and tufts of hair receded, leaving him without the defining features that tied him to both his human and demonic past. His skin, once beige, shifted to a reddish-brown fur, modest in length but luxuriant in texture. The transformation was almost complete now, his form reduced from an imposing 7 feet stature to around 21 inches at the shoulder, and his weight redefined to that of an elegant 198-pound doe. As the final sparks of magic settled, the once omnipresent old-fashioned radio voice fell silent. Alastor blinked, the world around him now impossibly grand and somewhat disorienting. Yet, the mischievous glint in his eye remained, and the keen intelligence and personality that had always defined him were unchanged, even if now expressed through the soft gaze and cautious movements of a doe. Alastor took tentative steps forward on his newly acquainted quadrupedal limbs, the remnants of his crimson outfit strewn around him. He felt the room’s textures differently now, each sensation amplified through the sensitive pads of his hooves. Despite the disconcerting nature of his transformation, a smug sense of invincibility permeated his thoughts. He was still Alastor, albeit in an entirely unexpected and natural form. The old-fashioned charm he once wielded now manifested in the subtle elegance with which he carried himself as a deer – a creature bound by its form yet unbound in spirit. Alastor steadily regained his poise, feeling an unexpected thrill in the quadrupedal stance, the ground beneath him more intimate than ever before. The spell had changed his appearance but had failed to touch the very essence of who he was. He smirked internally, plotting how he would leverage this unsuspected transformation to further his ambitions. Perhaps the forest would become his new hunting ground, or maybe he’d entertain the residents of Hell with tales from their world, wrapped in the innocence of his deer form. For now, Alastor reveled in his new skin, a cunning smile in the heart of a delicate form, ready to weave his narratives in uncharted territories.

In the bustling Hell-heart of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor found himself in an unusual predicament. A mysterious box, adorned with perplexing symbols, had arrived unannounced, revealing a peculiar stone glowing with an unworldly light. The Radio Demon, ever the charmingly curious sort, gave the stone a gentle tap with his sentient vintage microphone cane. As a playful radio jingle rang out from the mic, the stone resonated with a soft hum, and a strange transformation began to unfold. Alastor rapidly began shrinking, his impressive seven-foot stature seeming to dissolve, inch by inch, into a smaller form. His lanky demonic body rounded out, losing its humanoid characteristics. His pinstripe coat, red dress shirt emblazoned with a black cross, and long black dress pants were absorbed by the new reddish-brown fur rapidly spreading across his body. Gone was his necktie and monocle, disappearing as if woven into the thick pelt. As he continued to contract, Alastor slowly lost his bipedal stance. His arms and legs, now devoid of their dark grey tone, shortened and thickened, transitioning into the sturdy legs and softly cloven hooves of a deer. His lithe, dapper hands and red fingers, once priding themselves on their killer grip, faded into the embodiment of simple, earthly elegance. His oval face got elongated, pushing out a snout. He didn't need his pointed teeth anymore as deer teeth started to form. His black tipped tufts of hair vanished, replaced by soft ears popping out at the sides. His enchanting red eyes turned a rounded black, glinting with the same rowdy, energetic tint the Radio Demon was known for. The iconic red antlers on his head receded slowly, a male emblem now irrelevant to the female deer he was becoming. His own age reshaped itself, subtly blending into the graceful middle years of a deer's average lifespan. In the end, Alastor was no longer the peculiar, charming Radio Demon, but a lovely doe. Smaller, at about 53 centimeters (21 inches) in height and 95 cm (37 inches) in length, she held an air of subtle, refined elegance. However, the doe had Alastor's smirk - the quintessential grin that echoed the essence of the good-natured yet manipulative announcer. He - now a she, retained everything that made him Alastor, the charm and wit, the capacity to entertain, and the darker elements of his persona. The cane, intrigued, hovered around the doe, now playing a gentle tune, bouncing around her, trying to figure out whether it recognized her. To its pleasant surprise, the deer leaned in as Alastor’s voice crackled from the microphone, "Well, isn't this a hoot?" Even trapped in a doe's body, Alastor was nothing if not flamboyantly composed. With her charming transatlantic accent, she announced, "Welcome to nature's own picture show, mes chères, starring yours truly!" Indeed, Alastor was still very much herself despite the dramatic transformation. A unique blend of the beautiful innocence of a doe and the mysterious cunning of Hell's Radio Demon, she was ready to tackle this new chapter in her afterlife with a smirk and a crackle of wit. After all, the show must go on. As with any change, whether physical or otherwise, it's what is inside that tells the true tale. And Alastor, without a doubt, was as vibrant, captivating and sinister as ever, bounding with the same old energy in her new, four-legged guise.