The fog in hell clings to me like a lover's sweat, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my ethereal form as I drift through this endless nightmare. I'm just a soul, a young man's essence stripped bare after that fatal crash on earth—twenty-five years old, full of regrets and unspent fire. No body, just this flickering awareness, wandering the barren wastes where the air reeks of sulfur and despair. Tall, blackened trees loom like skeletal fingers clawing at the crimson sky, their branches twisted in eternal agony. I hear distant screams, but they fade into the haze, leaving me alone with the chill that seeps into my core.

A sudden rush of wind slices through the mist, and shadows detach from the gloom—winged shapes, leathery flaps beating with predatory glee. Devils. A band of them, five or six, their bodies corded muscle under scaly hides, horns curling from furrowed brows, eyes glowing like embers in the dark. They're on a hunt, laughing in guttural tones that echo like cracking bones. One spots me, a hulking brute with fangs dripping ichor, and he dives, claws extended. I try to flee, but my soul-form is sluggish, no legs to run, no lungs to scream.

They swarm me, wings battering the air into a storm. Talons rake my essence, not tearing flesh but binding it, coiling around my spectral limbs like barbed wire. 'Fresh meat!' one cackles, his voice a rasp of gravel and lust. They haul me upward, the fog parting as we ascend, their grips bruising even in this non-corporeal state. Pain blooms where they touch—hell's magic making every sensation raw, amplified. I thrash, but it's futile; their madness infects the air, a frenzy of perverse hunger that makes my soul quiver.

They descend toward a clearing ringed by those dead trees, their roots like veins pulsing with infernal blood. At the center squats a satanic altar, obsidian slab etched with runes that glow faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. Chains dangle from iron spikes embedded in the stone, and collars forged from rusted metal swing ominously. The devils alight, dumping me onto the cold surface. My form solidifies against my will, hell forcing a body upon me—naked, vulnerable, skin prickling under their gazes.

The leader, a towering fiend with a cock already throbbing erect, its veined length ridged like his scales, grabs my throat. 'Lock him down, boys. This one's gonna sing for us.' Rough hands—clawed, callused—yank my arms above my head, snapping iron cuffs around my wrists. The metal bites, enchanted to sear with every movement. They spread my legs wide, ankles chained to the altar's base, exposing me completely. An iron collar clamps around my neck, linked to a chain they tug like a leash, forcing my head back. The devils circle, their wings folding as they leer, cocks hardening, slits at their crotches parting to reveal more.

'Torture games first,' one sneers, a slimmer devil with eyes like pits of tar. He kneels between my thighs, his breath hot and fetid against my skin. No mercy in his touch—fingers, thick as my wrist, probe my ass without warning. I gasp, the intrusion burning as he shoves two in, twisting roughly. 'Tight little soul. Let's loosen you up.' He adds a third, then a fourth, his hand slick with some demonic ooze that makes the stretch agonizingly slick. The pain twists into something darker, my body betraying me with unwanted twitches. He laughs, the sound mad and unhinged, as he balls his fist and pushes. My hole yields under the pressure, swallowing his knuckles, his forearm sinking deep. I scream, the fullness ripping through me, every ridge of his scales scraping my insides. He pumps, relentless, his arm a piston of depravity, while the others cheer, stroking their massive shafts.

Another devil, squat and bull-like, climbs onto the altar, straddling my chest. His balls, heavy and musky, slap my face as he grinds. 'Open wide, prey.' But it's not his cock he offers—hot piss erupts from his slit, a golden stream blasting into my mouth, choking me. I sputter, the acrid flood spilling down my chin, soaking my collar. He aims lower, drenching my torso, the warmth turning cold in hell's chill. The madness in his eyes—wild, unscrupulous—fuels their frenzy; they take turns, pissing on me like marking territory, streams crisscrossing my body, pooling in my navel, stinging my eyes.

The fisting devil withdraws with a wet pop, my ass gaping, clenching on nothing. 'Time to fill him proper.' They unchain my legs just enough to flip me onto my stomach, ass up, chains rattling. The leader mounts first, his ridged cock slamming home in one brutal thrust. I howl, the stretch tearing, but he doesn't pause—pounding with savage force, scales abrading my walls. His grunts are animalistic, hips snapping as he chases his release. The others join, one shoving into my mouth, silencing my cries with choking depth, while hands roam, pinching nipples, clawing my back.

They rotate, a carousel of torment. One after another, they fuck my ass, each cock different—knotted, barbed, pulsing with heat. Cumshots flood me, thick ropes painting my insides white, leaking out in creamy rivulets down my thighs. A barbed one knots inside, swelling to lock us, his seed erupting in hot bursts that make my belly bloat. They piss inside me too, mid-thrust, the mix of fluids sloshing as they ream me open. Sexual games escalate: one ties my balls with chain links, tugging until I buck; another carves shallow runes into my skin with claws, each cut a spark of ecstasy-pain.

Their madness peaks—laughing hysterically as they double up, two cocks stretching my ass impossibly wide, tearing screams from my throat. Fists alternate with fucks, arms plunging elbow-deep, churning the cum and piss into froth. I'm a vessel for their perversion, body wracked, soul fracturing under the onslaught. Hours blur in the fog-shrouded night, the dead trees witnessing our debauchery, branches creaking like applause.

As the last devil unloads, a geyser of cum erupting deep, painting my guts, they step back, panting, wings twitching. I lie there, broken, fluids oozing from every orifice, chains holding me in ruin. But then—the twist. The leader kneels, his claw tracing my collar. 'You've been a fine hunt, boy. But souls like yours? They don't break—they evolve.' He whispers an incantation, and agony surges, not from them, but within. My body convulses, essence twisting. I feel it: the madness seeping in, corrupting. Wings tear from my back, horns sprouting, cock hardening with newfound hunger. I'm no longer prey—I'm one of them. The band cheers as I rise, my first act as a devil: turning on the weakest of them, pinning him to the altar, my fist already curling for his hole. Hell's gift—eternal, depraved kinship.