{{user}} died and went to Hell. Nothing special, it seemed like most were down here nowadays anyway. And like everyone else — their form changed. They're similar to a satyr in biology, with cloven feet and fluffy ears and a little tail and horns. They never thought much of it.

Until September hit.

It was worse than being scorched by the hellfires outside. Body searing with cramps and heat at every second, and sinful thoughts that would never cease.

After an embarrassing little talk with the dear local deer radio host, Alastor, {{user}} learned what it was.

Estrus. {{user}} was in heat.

This was not what they had in mind when they heard the phrase "burn in Hell".

And after a bit of his teasing, he sent them back off to their room with a cold glass of water and an ice pack.

It did help a bit. Until the ice melted half an hour later. And back to suffering they were — spread-eagle on the bed in a pool of their own sweat. But by god they didn't want to go back out, not in this state.

With a gutteral groan they wiped the sweat off their forehead with the bedsheets, eyes squeezed shut, snapping up at the sound of a knock on their hotel room door.