The Initiation into Divine Perversion
The chamber is dimly lit, the air thick with sweat, incense, and the scent of raw, unrestrained desire. The heat of bodies, the pulse of lust, the sheer weight of indulgence hangs over me like a heavy fog, intoxicating and inescapable. I kneel, stripped of everything but my hunger, my submission, my carnal need. This is not just a moment of pleasure—this is transformation. This is devotion. I came to offer myself , to be marked, to be broken and remade, baptized in filth, reborn in sin.
The gathered men surround me, their bodies gleaming with sweat, their eyes filled with hunger. They are not just participants—they are my initiators, the ones who will take me beyond the mortal realm of pleasure and into something deeper, darker, more eternal.
The first touch is electric, a hand gripping my throat, a voice whispering in my ear, “Are you ready to give up who you were? Are you ready to take in the essence of the divine filth that will consume you, are you ready to submit to the Dar Lord and receive his sin and convert your soul?”
I did not hesitate in my response. I nod. I am open and ready to receive. I surrender completely to sin.
The ritual begins. Every touch, every thrust, every toxic drop spilled inside me is a sacrament, a prayer, a devotion to the perversion that now claims me. My body is no longer mine to own—it belongs to the pleasure, to the men who baptize me with their toxic seed, to the ritual that marks my transformation, my initiation into the realm of ultimate indulgence, my devotion to the Devil.
Sweat drips from my skin, mixing with the essence that fills me, marking me, infecting me with the irreversible proof of my submission. I am taking in more than just flesh—I am absorbing the power of every man who has entered this temple of perversion, their essence sinking into me, corrupting me, making me more than human, making me a vessel of pure, carnal worship.
My body is stretched, filled, overflowing with sin. Every hole is used, every inch of my sweaty cum stained flesh is claimed, every moan and whimper is a hymn to my own undoing. I am drowning in pleasure, in sweat, in the thick, decadent proof of my rebirth.
A six foot white demon walks up to me and says sniff these poppers, as I sniff he keeps it there for what seemed like hours and then I fill immense pressure at my ass. He’s about fist me as my eyes water from the poppers waiting for his fist to enter this willing vessel. The world around me blurs as the rush of the poppers hits, a heady, intoxicating wave that leaves me floating, weightless, caught between reality and something far darker, far more decadent. The demon loomed over me, his white skin almost luminescent in the dim, hazy glow of the chamber. His horns curve upward, sharp and regal, his eyes burning with something between hunger and amusement. “You’re ready,” he murmurs, his voice thick, dripping with power. My body betrays me before my mind can catch up from the overpowering of the poppers. Muscles slacken, my breath comes shallow, my hole quivers in expectation, in submission, in need. The pressure builds—slow, unrelenting—his massive fist pressing against me, stretching me beyond anything human, beyond anything i thought possible. The pain is exquisite, an electric jolt that dances the fine line between torment and pleasure. He pushes deeper, knuckles slipping past the threshold, and I realize I am being taken, reshaped into something new, something otherworldly. I am no longer just flesh and bone—I am a vessel, a willing offering to this being of pure indulgence.
His lips curl into a smirk as he watches me struggle, watches me surrender, watches me open for him like a blooming flower drenched in sweat and lust. “Good,” he purrs, pushing deeper, his fist sinking in to the wrist. “You were made for this, take another derp hit and don’t stop till I say so.” The bottle is pressed against my nose again, the pungent, heady fumes of the poppers flooding my system instantly. My mind reels, my body goes slack, and my hole quivers around the massive fist buried inside me. The demon’s command echoes in my skull, reverberating through my very being, “You were made for this.”My lungs burn as I inhale deeper, my vision blurring at the edges, my muscles melting into pure, liquid submission. The poppers hit harder this time, sending waves of heat and numb ecstasy coursing through every nerve. The pressure inside me intensifies—his wrist, his forearm pushing deeper, stretching me impossibly wide, reshaping me in ways I never imagined possible.
He chuckles, watching me unravel, watching me becoming a slave to pleasure. His other hand grips my jaw, forcing me to keep inhaling, keeping me suspended in this haze of overwhelming pleasure, of raw, carnal surrender. “Don’t stop until I say so.” My chest heaves as I suck in another hit, my body twitching, my hole spasming, desperate for more. I am nothing but sensation now, nothing but flesh molded to his will. His arm moves—slow at first, deliberate, each push and pull sending white-hot sparks of agony-pleasure through your core. Then a sweaty cock is shoved into my mouth just as the demon starts fucking me with his fist. The moment the thick, sweaty cock presses against my lips, I already know the taste—the musk of my own ass, the raw, primal scent of filth and indulgence, the unmistakable proof of my own corruption. The head smears against my tongue, salty and slick, pushing past my lips without hesitation, without mercy. I am nothing but a hole now—two holes, stuffed, used, remade in the image of perversion itself.
The demon doesn’t slow. His fist drives deeper, stretching me beyond reason, beyond humanity. His forearm sinks inside me, his knuckles twisting, stretching, reshaping my insides. The pain is a distant memory now, drowned beneath the thick haze of poppers and raw, unrelenting pleasure. My body quivers, sweat dripping from every inch of my body, my mind floating somewhere between heaven and hell, lost in the abyss of absolute submission.
The cock in my mouth thrusts deeper, forcing me to choke, to swallow, to take it the way I am meant to. Hands grip my head, holding me in place, guiding me into the rhythm of pure, filthy worship. The taste floods my senses, my body nothing more than a vessel for this act of divine debauchery.
The demon growls above me, his voice thick with power, with hunger. “Look at you,” he purrs, his fist driving even deeper, filling me in ways no mortal ever could. “Made for this. Built for this. Born to be ruined.”
I gag around the cock stretching my throat, my body shaking as the demon works to open me from both ends, fucking me past the point of return. You are nothing but heat, sweat, cum, and sin—a holy sacrifice to the altar of indulgence.
And the worst part? I don’t just take it. I crave it. Then the demon swiftly pulls out his fist from my gaping hole he created. My scream is swallowed by the cock still buried in my throat, muffled by the sheer force of the demon’s claim over my body. The sudden, violent emptiness left by his retreating fist is instantly replaced by something far worse—far better, HUGE, His cock. Thick, burning hot, inhumanly massive.
It slams into me in one brutal thrust, stretching me in ways that should be impossible, splitting me open with raw, merciless force. My body arches, convulses, submits, and the only thing that escapes my lips is a muffled wail of ecstatic agony. I am forced to take another hit of poppers. The poppers flood my brain, my muscles limp and open, my gapping hole taking every inch as though it was always meant to. And it was. The demon owns me now, his cock buried to the hilt, throbbing with power, with lust, with the undeniable truth that you exist for this.
The one in my throat thrusts deeper, fucking my mouth in time with the relentless pounding of my ass. Every nerve in my body is on fire, overloaded, stretched to the edge of divine madness.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow. He doesn’t let me breathe. The demon grips my waist, his claws digging into my flesh as he slams into me. again and again, his cock reshaping my insides, forcing me to take more, to be more, to become the vessel of perversion I was always destined to be. My body trembles, overwhelmed, broken, perfect. His voice is thick with satisfaction, with something dark, endless, eternal. “You were made for this. You were born for this. And now? You’ll never belong to anything else.” I feel it then—the inevitability. The truth. And I don’t just accept it. I embody it.
Brutal, relentless, merciless.
I take the bottle of poppers from something licking my body and take the longest hit that I have ever taken. Then all of a sudden I feel 2 cocks enter me stretching my hole to its limit. Then I see it, two demons fucking me, licking each other then licking every inch of my sweaty.
The bottle is slick with sweat and cum as I bring it to my nose, tilting it back, inhaling so deeply it feels like my brain is dissolving into pure, electric submission. The rush is instant—blinding, overwhelming—my muscles go limp, my hole quivers, my body begs to be used.
And then—I feel it.
A pressure unlike anything before, two massive, demonic cocks pressing against my hole at the same time, stretching me far beyond what should be possible. I gasp, choking on the thick, musky cock still buried in my throat as my ass is split open by two monstrous unholy throbbing cocks. The demons growl in unison, tongues flicking over my sweat-drenched body, tasting me, devouring me as they force their way inside.
“Take it,” one snarls, licking the salt from my neck, his fangs grazing my skin as he pushes deeper.
“Open for us,” the other growls against my chest, his tongue lapping up the sweat pooling between my pecs, hot and relentless.
My body shakes violently, my muscles spasming around them as they thrust, together, as one, stuffing me to the absolute limit. Their cocks grind against each other inside me, stretching me so wide I feel like I might snap apart, but I don’t. I take it. My hole gapes, welcomes them, begs for more.
The demon fucking my throat grips my hair, slamming his cock deeper, his taste coating my tongue, his sweat dripping onto my face.
The poppers twist reality into a haze of pure, filthy bliss. My body melts into the filth, into the heat, into the fucking. Their tongues are everywhere—dragging over my throat, teasing my nipples, slithering down my stomach.
Then they turn to each other, mouths colliding, kissing hungrily over my ruined body as their cocks pulse, throb, split you apart. Their tongues tangle, their fangs scrape against each other, their growls vibrating through my skin as they moan into each other’s mouths, devouring one another while they fuck me raw.
One of them spits into my mouth, his hand gripping my jaw, forcing it open and making me swallow it down, to choke on the taste of pure perversion.
“Look at you,” the first demon hisses, licking the sweat dripping down my abs, his sharp tongue teasing my navel before flicking lower. “A perfect vessel.”
The other chuckles darkly, teeth sinking into your shoulder as his cock drives deeper, harder. “We should keep him.” My moans are nothing but desperate, mindless noise now, my body completely broken open, completely theirs.
The heat, the sweat, the overwhelming filth of it all— I are drowning in it. Addicted to it.
And as they fuck me harder, licking every last drop of sweat from my trembling, used body, I know— I’m never leaving this place.
And I don’t want to.
I take another hit of poppers it floods my senses, my pulse races, my body writhes—but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until he allows it. Not until he’s finished breaking you.
His voice is silk, dripping with dark amusement.“Good boy.” “You’re mine now,” he whispers, voice like silk, like sin. “Forever.”
The words echo in my mind—“You’re mine now. Forever.”
My body is still trembling, stretched, used, dripping with the remnants of my corruption. My hole aches, pulsing, still gaping from the brutal, relentless fucking of the demons who claimed me. The air is thick, heavy with the scent of sweat, cum, and raw indulgence.
I closed my eyes, my chest heaving, my skin slick with the evidence of my complete submission. When I reopen them—I’m surrounded.
Thirty muscle pigs. Bodies glistening, covered in thick, dripping ropes of cum, their massive, heaving chests rising and falling, their musky scent intoxicating. The room is dim, bathed in the low glow of candlelight, shadows dancing over their sweat-slicked skin, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every twitching, throbbing cock ready to use me.
They stand over me, watching, licking their lips, stroking themselves, eyes filled with hunger, with possession. I am theirs.
One of them kneels beside me, his fingers trailing through the mess coating my chest, smearing it across my nipples before bringing it to my lips.
“Taste yourself.” My tongue flicks out instinctively, licking the salty, musky proof of my own filth from his fingers. The others grunt in approval, the sound low and feral, their hands working their cocks, beads of precum dripping onto the floor beneath them.
The one closest to me grabs the bottle of poppers, pressing it against my nose.
“Breathe deep, pig. You’re not done yet.”
The scent hits me like a punch to the brain, making my head swim, my hole twitching open in anticipation. A thick, meaty hand grips my thigh, spreading me wider. Another grabs my jaw, forcing my eyes up.
“We’re not stopping until you can’t take anymore. And even then… we’ll break you open even further.”
A hot, sweaty cock slaps against my hole, still slick, wrecked, leaking from the demons that came before.
The others close in. Hands. Mouths. Cocks. The first one slides inside. My back arches. My lips part in a silent scream. Your body welcomes them.
My head spins, reality twisting, unraveling in the thick, musky heat of the room. My body is wrecked, dripping, used beyond recognition, yet my mind teeters on the edge of uncertainty.
Was it real?
The demons, the claws gripping my flesh, the white-skinned monster stretching me open with his massive fist—was it truly happening, or was I lost in the poppers’ haze, drugged into a waking dream while these thirty muscle pigs had their way with me?
I try to think, but it’s impossible. My body is still open, pulsing, gaping, every nerve alive with the remnants of brutal, unrelenting pleasure. My lips tingle with the taste of sweat, spit, and cum, my throat raw from being used.
A thick, calloused hand grips my jaw. He smirks down at me, his broad chest gleaming with sweat, his cock still leaking, still hard, still ready.
“What’s wrong, slut?” His voice is thick with amusement, just like the demon’s had been.
Another man kneels beside me, licking a long, slow line up my neck, his tongue just a little too hot, a little too sharp.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he whispers against my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
My body quivers, my hole clenching around nothing, still aching for more.
Did they do this to me?
Or had something else been here first?
My pulse races as I try to piece it together, but before I can make sense of it, the poppers are at my nose again.
“Breathe.”
My lips part. My body obeys. The fog rolls in again.
And just like that—thinking no longer matters.
My whole body limp from exhaustion covered in sweat and cum. The last man steps forward, gripping my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze. He is not just anyone. He is the embodiment of this whole experience, the one who will complete my transformation and infect me with the toxic seed I had been waiting for.
His voice is low and dark, commanding. “Swear your devotion. Swear your surrender. Swear that from this moment forward, you are nothing but a disciple of indulgence, a vessel of divine perversion, nothing more then a pig willing to be used and to serve.”
My lips part, my voice trembling, thick with exhaustion, lust, and absolute submission, this is it. “I swear.” The words are a whisper at first, but they swell, growing in conviction, in need. “I swear my devotion. I swear my surrender. I am nothing but a vessel for the divine perversion that claims me.”
A murmur of approval ripples through the gathered men, their eyes burning with satisfaction, with the knowledge that I am no longer merely flesh—I am consecrated, sanctified by sweat, seed, and sin.
He tightens his grip of my hair, tilting your head back, his gaze dark and endless as he fingers my gaping hole. I feel a sensation that is a bit uncomfortable as if he is scratching my insides. He pulls out his fingers and there’s a small trace of blood dripping down. He continues to focus his stare reaching the froths of my soul. “Then take your final baptism.”
My mouth opens instinctively, ready, eager, desperate for the completion of my transformation. The final act of worship spills across my tongue, hot, thick, undeniable as he forces his blood stained, cum dripping, ass covered fingers into my mouth. I savor the taste and drink it down without hesitation, without regret, swallowing the last vestige of who I was, letting it settle deep within me, sealing my fate, binding me to this temple of indulgence for eternity. As I am intoxicated by the taste he thrusts his huge cock inside me. Every thrust causing more and more pain from the internal scratching, realizing I’m about to be infected that’s why he did what he did. He knew this is what I was waiting for. Every thrust there was more blood more pain then he started growling at me, guttural sounding. Then I felt a huge warm sensation flood inside me then he removed his throbbing cock and shoved it in my mouth.
The room erupts into exaltation—hands gripping me, pulling me into them, lips claiming my skin, tongues worshipping the body that is no longer my own but belongs to the divine hunger that now consumes me. I am no longer a mere mortal. I am no longer just a man.
I have been anointed. I am ascended. I am the sacred filth, a disciple of ultimate pleasure, an apostle of excess.
And as the final echoes of this event fade into the thick, musky air, I realize—there is no going back.
I belong to this now. Forever.
