Corporal Jason Gray was completely fubar'ed. He tried to think of a time in his life when he'd been more comprehensibly fucked and nothing came close, not even when those bastard lawyers had gleefully picked through the carcass of his failed marriage.

He lost his balance and stumbled forwards onto his knees. His captors giggled and yanked the chain binding his wrists together in front of him. Jason was dragged back to his feet.

He wondered what had happened to the rest of the squad.

Fubar'ed probably.

Whole fucking world was fubar'ed.

If this was even fucking Earth. Jason had his doubts. He suspected they might have slipped into hell-space or worse - hell-space had slipped into the world around them.

Ahead of him he saw a twisted baroque structure rising up against a roiling purple sky. It sat on top of a hill like a squat predator, waiting to grab any prey unwary enough to come within range of its claws. Fires flickered within its midnight-black walls, burning like hellion eyes. Above it black-winged forms flitted through a storm-ridden sky.

Fubar'ed. Completely and utterly fubar'ed.

They'd been on leave. That was the worst part. They'd been fucking out, on R&R in the next state.

Nowhere near the fucking gate.

Even though it seemed barely credible, somehow Uncle Sam had found an even better meatgrinder to chew up its sons, one that made Iraq and Afghanistan look like prime vacation spots in comparison. H-space would have been the worst place on Earth had it actually been on Earth.

Jason didn't know what it was. The eggheads reckoned they'd opened a doorway into some kind of parallel dimension. Jason reckoned they didn't know shit either. All he knew was he'd been sent there twice on tours of duty and he hadn't liked it one little bit. No sir.

At least he'd been lucky. He'd come back with body - and mind - intact.

The men called it hell-space and they had damn good reason. In Iraq or Afghanistan the hostiles might set your body on fire and leave the charred corpse hanging from the nearest bridge, but they didn't pull men apart with the same ease as plucking tender chicken flesh from a bone. They didn't do the ... other things Jason had heard.

H-space was bad juju. Jason was glad to be the fuck out of there.

Or so he'd thought.

Jason didn't have a fucking clue what had happened. He woke up one morning to find the sun hadn't. Six a.m., Seven a.m., Eight a.m., Nine a.m.; no fucking sun, just sky the colour of an infected bruise.

There was no way to tell if this was happening just here, or everywhere. All the communications were out. No TV, no internet, no radio; he couldn't even get a signal on his mobile.

The people really started freaking out when midday rolled round and the sky was still as dark as if it was evening. Jason watched the panic-stricken streets from their second floor hotel room.

"Shouldn't we be down there, restoring order or something?" he asked Sergeant David Mendonca.

"Fuck that," Mendonca replied. "They don't want order; they want someone to pin the blame on. I ain't planning on being a sacrificial scapegoat to a crazy mob."

"They might be right," Jason said. "To blame us."

Mendonca didn't say anything.

"Fucking scientists. Messin' with stuff they don't understand," Jason muttered.

Matt Theobald burst into the room. "Wilcock's freaking out," he said.

"Fuck. I told them they should have sent that boy all the way home. Two weeks, two months, two years; doesn't matter. No way they're ever going to get him to go back through that gate again," Mendonca said. He headed for the door. "I'll go see if I can calm him down."

Hell-space had totally fucked up Wilcock's head. That kid was several whores short of a brothel in Jason's opinion.

"That sky remind you of anything," Matt said, staring out of the window.

"Yeah," Jason replied.

"Fuck."

They'd seen a sky like that before. On the other side of the gate.

The demons came just after nightfall. Jason watched them swoop out of the deepening sky on leathery black wings. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. The air was filled with their obscene laughter. Jason's guts tied together in a frozen knot as he watched the devils pluck people up off the road and carry them away, screaming, into the darkness.

"Jesus fuck," Matt murmured.

"We gotta do something," Jason said.

"With what," Matt said. "The weapons are all back at the base. We got maybe a couple of small arms at most."

"We get new ones," Mendonca said. He pointed down to a building outside. "There."

The neon fascia advertised hunting supplies.

"The hotel's underground car park takes us to less than a block away," Mendonca continued. "That should give us some cover. Get the men together and round up as many civilians as you can. No heroics. They start playing up with any kind of fuckery then you leave them behind."

They heard a loud bang. A gunshot.

Private Martin Scanlan walked in. The left side of his face was splashed with blood and he wore a shocked expression. "Wilcock ... he..."

Mendonca swore.

They didn't have long to reflect as they heard shattered glass and screams from the room above them.

"Move your asses, soldiers," Mendonca ordered.

Jason bust the leg off a wooden chair to serve as a makeshift club and followed his squad out into the corridor. Civilians were milling around in panic and confusion. Jason bellowed out orders, trying to shepherd them down the stairs. Behind him Matt did the same, trying to funnel the rushing people in a single direction. They heard more sounds of breaking glass as demons crashed through the windows of the rooms upstairs.

Down in the lobby they stared out through the glass entrance windows onto a scene of pandemonium. People were running round and screaming in panic as black-winged devils rained down on them from above. Jason froze, trying to think of the best course of action.

"This way," Mendonca yelled. "The underground car park."

Jason was about to follow when he saw a willowy blonde standing in the corridor beyond the lobby, right next to the restroom doors. She stared at the commotion with wide blue eyes. Jason met her gaze and indicated she should follow with a twist of his head. The girl was too frightened. She backed into the ladies' restroom.

"Leave her," Mendonca warned. "We can't save everyone."

"It'll only take a moment," Jason said. He knew he shouldn't, but the girl reminded him of Valerie, back before their marriage had gone to shit.

Jason dashed across to the toilets and gently pushed the door open. He didn't want to spook the girl more than she already was. The door closed behind him, shutting out most of the noise of the lobby. Quiet now, the room gave the appearance of a calm safe haven, an impression reinforced by the clean white light and pristine white tiles.

All an illusion, Jason thought. There was no safety here.

He heard the girl's sniffling sobs and followed them to the last cubicle. The girl was sitting on the toilet, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

"You can't stay here, Miss," Jason said. "It's not safe."

The girl didn't hear him. She continued to rock on the toilet seat, sniffling as tears ran down her cheeks.

Jason got down low. He offered his hand in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner.

"Miss," he said softly. "We need to go now."

The girl stopped sniffling and tilted her head to look at Jason. Those wide blue eyes of hers were real heart-melters, Jason thought. The girl noticed his dog tags swinging over his civvie shirt.

"Are you here to save me?" she asked.

"I'll do my best," Jason said with a friendly smile. "I'm Jason, what's your name?"

"Laura Lee," the blonde replied.

"Okay Laura Lee, we really need to leave now. Are you ready?"

Laura Lee nodded. She put her hand in his and didn't resist as he pulled her up off the toilet. He led her out of the restrooms. In the corridor he flattened his body against the wall and lifted up his makeshift club, trying to see if the demons had entered the lobby.

"Right, let's be-"

The girl screamed loudly.

Jason turned. There was a demon standing right next to them in the corridor.

It was maybe an inch taller than Jason and he was just over six foot. Her leathery black wings were folded behind her.

Her.

It slipped in; it always did. As much as he wanted to think of them as 'it', he always lapsed into 'her' or 'she'. It couldn't be helped. The human parts of their anatomy were always absolutely stunning and they never made any attempt to cover themselves up. They had no shame. It was like staring at a porn star amazon while she brazenly showed off her breasts and pussy.

That's what did for so many men out in hell-space. They were so busy thinking with their dicks they didn't notice the claws until it was too late.

Alien. Indigenous species.

Yeah, right.

She had cloven hooves covered in downy red fur. There were pointed black horns jutting out of her forehead. A pointed devil's tale twitched back and forth behind her. And don't forget the wings.

What other evidence did they need?

"Run!" Jason bellowed to Laura Lee. "Follow the others."

He turned and swung his club at the demon's glamour model face. Her red eyes twinkled with amusement as she reached up and grabbed his wrist. All the strength in his arm drained away at her touch. Her other arm went around his waist, pinning his arm to his side as she pulled him close. She pressed her moist black lips against his in a forced kiss. Jason shuddered as an electric jolt ran through him.

There was something on her lips, a wet substance that seeped under his skin and spread a numbing sensation. Jason's senses span and his knees buckled underneath him. He slid down into darkness.

Fubar'ed. Completely and utterly fubar'ed, Jason thought as they led him up the slope towards the castle.

One consolation was he appeared to be the only captive. Maybe the others, including Laura Lee, had managed to escape.

He lost his footing again and the demons yanked the chain to get him back on his feet. There were seven of them - all with horns, hooves, tails and leathery bat wings. Their skin was a variety of different iridescent hues.

They weren't as tall or as imposing as the demon that had overpowered him, but there were seven of them and Jason's hands were chained together at the wrists. There were also chains around his ankles. They were loose enough for him to be able to walk with a shuffling gait, but not loose enough for him to even think about running.

The worst part about the devils was they looked so fucking hot - even with their demonic features. They knew it as well and took every opportunity to flaunt their naked tits at him, or bend over to display the dripping gash of their pussies.

They couldn't keep their hands off him either, eagerly groping and molesting his naked body. They whispered lewd suggestions in his ear while their clawed fingers reached under to tickle his balls and stroke teasingly against his cock.

Jason tried to ignore their attentions.

This wasn't some cliched porn set up. He wasn't a lucky bastard. He'd served two tours in hell-space and he'd heard all the rumours. He'd seen the screaming lunacy of the men that had been found alive ... and the ghastly corpses of the ones that hadn't.

His cock hadn't got the memo, currently it was hard and twitched with each stolen caress.

Fubar'ed.

They passed through a gate that gaped wide like a fanged maw. Within, the castle buzzed with fervent, lascivious activity. Moans and cries of orgasmic bliss were juxtaposed against blood-curdling screams and lunatic laughter.

Jason looked through a window and saw the perfect white globes of a female demon's ass pounding up and down on a hapless victim. The man was tied to a bed beneath her. It looked like a scene from a sex film, yet the man's face was twisted in terror and he screamed as if being tortured.

Through a doorway he saw a woman in her late thirties tied to a cross and weeping. One demon had a face down in the woman's crotch while another carved bloody red calligraphy across her naked breasts.

Jason passed more doorways, each revealing a scene of debauched degradation, as his captors led him down a black corridor lit by pungent scented candles. Maybe Wilcock had been the smart one after all, he thought grimly as he tried to stare straight ahead and ignore the horrors taking place on either side of him.

Fuck that. He wasn't a quitter. He didn't give up. While his heart was still beating in his chest he had hope. Uncle Sam wouldn't stand for this. You hit Uncle Sam, you pissed him off, then you'd better be prepared for the complete shitstorm he'd unleash on your sorry ass.

The marines would come. Jason had to make sure he was still breathing when they kicked down the door.

The demons led him down some steps and into a dark room that looked like a dungeon chamber. A large black chair, upholstered in glossy black leather, stood beneath a spotlight. It looked like a dentist's chair, only larger and more ornate. The demons giggled like naughty schoolgirls as they dragged him to it and strapped him in.

"We'd like so much to play with you, but you're needed for the feast," one of the demons whispered in his ear. She followed up with her tongue and Jason felt its boiling heat as she licked the inside of his ear.

The demons left, leaving Jason sitting alone in the darkness. The plush leather surface of the chair was warm against his naked skin. Under other circumstances he might have thought it comfortable.

He hated that. He'd rather the chair was hard cold stone.

Same for the demons. They had the same red-hot sexy faces and bodies as the porn stars he used to jerk off to. It was all so fucking wrong. Was this why the ones that came back alive, the ones that weren't screaming freaks, never talked about it?

Jason strained against the straps, veins popping up on his arms as he tried to break free. There was no give at all.

Jason gritted his teeth and banged his head back against the soft head rest.

Fuck. He was going to die here. Some monster with the face of a sex goddess was going to torture and kill him for her own amusement.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"I hope they weren't too rough with you." The voice was velvety smooth and came from the darkness at the far side of the room.

A pale-skinned girl walked into view. She was more human-looking than most of the other demons, so much so Jason had mistaken her for one at first. Now, as she moved into the light, he could see he was clearly wrong. A large and ornate pair of ram's horns curved out of her platinum blonde curls. While her face had the perfect contours of a top model, her eyes were the colour of milk and empty of both iris and pupil.

She had the largest pair of breasts Jason had ever seen. Ridiculous, comic book, gag boob sized breasts. Well, technically he'd seen larger, but the women sporting those had been big just about everywhere as well. This girl wasn't and despite their size, her breasts were as firm and as upswept as those of a model in her prime. Her tits defied, no castigated, gravity. Pink nipples the size of bolts pointed proudly upwards at the ceiling.

"Like what you see?" the girl asked, folding her arms underneath her boobs.

The breasts, yeah.

The ram's horns, the creepy white eyes, the legs terminating in downy-white fur and hooves - not so much.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Capramendes, the milkmaid," the demon replied.

She ran a hand up Jason's thick thigh and then across his heavily muscled chest. "What a splendid specimen," she said.

"What do you want?" Jason asked. He flexed against his bonds again, popping out veins in his arms and chest as he struggled.

"I'm here for the milking," Capramendes said, her voice smooth like whipped cream.

Milking? Him? What the fuck. He was a guy. He couldn't produce milk.

Unless she was referring to her own breasts. They looked huge enough to contain a shit-ton of milk. Or whatever passed for demon milk.

Jason didn't like this.

They didn't always find soldiers dead or insane, sometimes they found them... changed.

Capramendes rubbed a balloon-sized breast up Jason's side. The pale white flesh wobbled and quivered, fully laden with whatever passed for milk within the demon. Her flesh felt soft and warm, but Jason tried not to think about that and instead focused on his disgust.

The demon rubbed a soft hand across the hard slats of Jason's abdominal muscles and then up across his chest. Her fingers casually toyed with his nipple.

"You'll do nicely, very nicely indeed," Capramendes said.

She leaned over until her huge tits were right in Jason's face. They filled his vision and he smelt her scent, an intoxicating odour with a hint of fresh cream.