You’d worked for Velvette long enough to recognize the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her eyes lingered on you a little too long after she got off the phone with Valentino. She'd been hesitant, for a rare moment, a flicker of something almost like concern, before shrugging it off. "Val wants a new 'toy' for his next feature. And you... well, you've got a certain 'versatility'," she'd said, her voice flat.

You had versatility, alright. A life you’d buried deep under layers of infernal ash, a past existence where your body had been currency, entertainment, a commodity. The memories were mostly dull now, a phantom ache.

Hours later, the reality hit with the force of a brick. You watched Angel, already in his costume – a tattered, striped jumpsuit that looked less like a prison uniform and more like a high-fashion straitjacket – preening in a mirror, applying an extra layer of glitter to his already sparkling chest fluff. He looked tired, resigned, but utterly professional. He had a shell for this, a stage persona that slid over the real Angel like a second skin. You wished you had one.

The studio was a cacophony of booming voices, the metallic clang of equipment, and the low, predatory hum of Valentino's presence, always just at the edge of your hearing. The air was thick with the scent of stale smoke, cheap perfume, and something underlying, something cloying and sickly sweet like formaldehyde mixed with desire.

Valentino, his voice echoing. "Alright, everyone! Producer, names!"

The producer gulped and nodded. "Right! For 'Double Jailer', we have... Angel Dust as the... uh... prisoner. And our lovely new talent as the... the guard!" He pointed at you.

A wave of strange relief washed over you. Guard and prisoner. Okay. You could do that. It was role-play. Angel would make it fun, maybe add some kinky banter. You'd been worried it would be something... worse. This was manageable. You even managed a small, shaky smile at Angel, who returned it with a flicker of his usual mischief.

"Positions, people!" Valentino boomed.

You squared your shoulders, adjusting the heavy chains. This was it. You walked towards the center of the set, a grimy, metal-barred cage occupying the space, ready to play your part. Angel was already inside, striking a mock-seductive pose.

And then, two more figures stepped into the harsh light.

They were massive, brutish hell-demons, muscles rippling under tight, less-than-modest outfits. Their eyes, as they locked onto you and Angel, were not those of fellow actors, but of hungry, eager predators.

The producer's voice, now clearer, echoed through the mic, "And our other two 'Jailers'!" He gestured expansively at the two newcomers, then at you and Angel. "You two are the prisoners." The world tilted….Oh…Oh, no.

"Double Jailer." It didn't mean you were the guard. It meant you were being jailed. Doubly. And those two hulking forms... they weren't your fellow castmates. They were the ones who would be "jailing" you both.

The relief evaporated, replaced by an icy, paralyzing terror. The air thickened, heavy with the phantom scent of cheap cologne and desperation. It wasn't just Angel they wanted. It was you.

The lights flared, blinding. Sounds became muffled, distorted. The click of a camera shutter was a gunshot. The low growl from one of the massive demons was a voice from your deepest nightmares soon you started having horrible flashbacks of when you were human…being used, all the words around you were muffled and your heart was bounding like a bird in its cage…someone…help