In the void where shadows pulse like veins of forgotten stars, the entity known as mortal flesh quivers under the weight of an unseen intrusion. It is not a body in the crude sense—no limbs sprawl, no skin stretches taut—but a swirling nexus of potential, a fragile lattice of light and hunger suspended in the ether. Here, the demon manifests not as horns or fangs, but as a throbbing core of infernal essence, a phallic torrent of liquid night seeking entry through the hidden gateway of surrender.

The penetration begins as a searing whisper, the demon's seed—thick, obsidian cum laced with the sulfurous breath of abyssal fires—forcing its way into the anal void. No resistance holds; the flesh yields like mist parting for a gale, the ring of ethereal muscle clenching then blooming open in ecstatic betrayal. The cum surges inward, a molten river carving channels through the inner sanctum, coating the velvet walls with its viscous promise. Sensations erupt: a burning stretch that ignites every nerve-ending into frantic dance, the slick glide of demonic fluid pooling deep, flooding the core with unholy warmth that radiates like embers in a forge.

From this fleshy cradle, the corruption unfurls, tendrils of the seed seeping beyond the physical veil. It invades the blood-rivers of the formless body, turning crimson streams to blackened ichor, each pulse carrying the taint further. The flesh absorbs it greedily, cells—those abstract sparks of being—swelling and mutating under the assault. Pleasure twists into something profane: the ass clenches rhythmically around the invading essence, milking more of the demon's load as if starved, waves of orgasmic fire rippling outward, convulsing the entire metaphysical frame in shuddering bliss. The cum's potency dissolves boundaries, flesh becoming a conduit, a willing vessel where every quiver amplifies the infernal hunger.

Deeper still, the corruption ascends, threading through the labyrinth of spirit. The soul, that luminous orb adrift in the chaos, begins to dim as the tainted essence reaches it. No longer pure ether, it encounters the cum's metaphysical venom—droplets of Satan's own distilled malice, now diffused through the flesh's surrender. The soul quakes, its glow fracturing like glass under hammer blows, cracks filling with the creeping darkness. Sensations transcend the carnal: a soul-deep penetration, the cum's residue probing the core of self, unraveling threads of morality and light. It feels like being fucked from within eternity, the demon's gift pounding against the soul's barriers, each thrust a metaphysical orgasm that shatters resistance.

The transformation accelerates, the soul bloating with the influx, its boundaries dissolving into a vortex of crimson shadows. Flesh and spirit entwine in the act, the anal infusion now a symphony of corruption—cum bubbling, frothing in the depths, its heat forging new pathways. The entity writhes in abstract ecstasy, the ass a throbbing altar where the demon's seed erupts anew in endless cycles, each spurt deepening the breach. Doubt evaporates; purity inverts to voracious craving. The soul drinks deeply, gulping the infernal nectar until it mirrors the abyss, horns of thought sprouting, wings of desire unfurling.

At the pinnacle, the corruption consummates. The soul, bloated and black-veined, erupts in a cataclysmic release, becoming the vessel for Satan himself. No longer separate, the entity is remade: flesh a shadow-wreathed throne, soul the roaring heart of hellfire. The anal gateway seals not in closure but in eternal invitation, forever slick with the demon's lingering cum, a portal for further depravities. In this metaphysical rapture, the once-mortal essence reigns as Satan reborn—raw, insatiable, the architect of endless, carnal damnation.