Darkness vs. Light
Tommy didn’t know where he was going. He was just running. Running from everything. From life itself.
A thought crossed his mind: What if I just killed myself? It’d be a fitting punishment for that narcissistic bastard. But no. He couldn’t do that to his parents, his Masters, Karma.
But look where all that goodness got me, he thought bitterly. A lifetime of understanding others, of service and love—and this is what I get in return. They broke me. They shattered my soul. It would’ve been better if Belial and Luciferiel had broken him from the start if this was how it was going to end. All that effort to hold all the pieces together—the darkness and the light! But Riccardo had been right. Maybe it was better to stay a mindless puppy. Not like in that dream, where he’d taken the curse for him—fuck that! Just stupidity and depravity. That way, he wouldn’t feel anything. Only excitement for sadism. Pain would excite him. He’d be immune to suffering.
Luciferiel wouldn’t approve, but it was true. It would’ve been better to surrender to his self-destructive instincts and shut himself off from all emotional bonds! Look how it all turned out. His beloved Masters had moved on with their lives, and he’d been left behind—with an asshole who’d just ruined his life after he’d spent years repressing a part of himself.
Fuck it all! Now, he’d embrace the darkness. He’d find Masters who’d truly reduce him to an object—who’d make him feel nothing. At least for a few sessions. Until he wanted to feel something again. Right now, he just wanted to numb himself in humiliation—no mercy, no love. Because love was just bullshit! Illusions in this fucked-up world, like Communism.
Tommy reached a bar. He ordered something strong—he wasn’t used to drowning himself in alcohol, but he didn’t want to feel anything anymore. He started scrolling on his phone, diving into the dark web. He was an expert in self-BDSM; he knew where to find the most depraved places. He remembered a site—something like Cruel Masters: For Faggots Who Only Want to Be Objects for Their Masters. He found it immediately. Perfect. Exactly what I’m looking for. Deregulation. Annihilation. He’d book a session tonight, then go home tomorrow to drown his sorrows with Karma. At least for tonight, he wouldn’t feel anything—just physical pain, not the pain in his soul.
He found the address, called the number, and booked a session for the night. There was space.
Tommy sped off in his car.
Belial and Luciferiel watched from above, worried. Belial, who usually downplayed everything, turned to Luciferiel. "This doesn’t bode well," he muttered. Luciferiel’s gaze was distant, troubled. He couldn’t contradict his brother, even if he desperately wanted to.
Tommy arrived. The place was a dump—like an abandoned construction site, but vast. The walls were bare, just concrete. A few cold neon lights illuminated the building.
A bearded man with a cold stare opened the door. "Get in, faggot! Strip and follow me on all fours!" Tommy obeyed.
They descended into the basement—and horror unfolded before Tommy’s eyes.
In front of him was what looked like a cult. The Masters were all hooded, and the leader of the sect was a woman with an icy gaze. She removed her hood with a sadistic grin.
"Do you like what you see, little faggot?"
Hanging on the walls of the room were boys—badly injured, mutilated, malnourished, their eyes glassy and devoid of hope. Some were unconscious. They looked on the verge of death.
Tommy was in shock. These weren’t Masters—they were a cult of psychopaths.
The woman spoke again. "You see, faggot… we’re a group of Evangelical Christians. We believe depraved fags like you aren’t human. God clearly said you’re an abomination. We lure you in, using your sinful desires to bring you where you belong. When you die, you’ll go to Hell and burn for eternity… but in the meantime, we can’t let you infect the world with your perversion. So we neutralize you… and give you a preview of your eternal suffering. Are you ready, little one, to be added to my trophy collection?"
Tommy wanted to scream for help, but his mouth wouldn’t open. There was dark magic in the air.
The woman continued. "You see, I’m an Evangelical priestess… God has granted me powers to help me fulfill my purification mission. I can destroy your mind, control your body, keep you alive in agony on the brink of death until God claims you. You can’t call for help, and you can’t resist me. Accept your fate—it’s God’s will. It’s what you deserve for your sins."
The Priestess fixed her eyes on Tommy’s. Hypnotic black spirals began to swirl. "Prepare to say goodbye to hope and every happy memory you’ve ever had."
Tommy acted on instinct.
He chose to regress into an animalistic object.
It was the most counterintuitive thing he could do. Regressing into a vulnerable state in the face of extreme danger should have been suicide.
But Tommy felt that this time, it might be his refuge. Taking shelter in the essence of his soul, shutting down his analytical mind, denying the Priestess the chance to read it.
After all, only those truly connected to his soul could manipulate him—not this Priestess. Or at least, that’s what Tommy hoped.
Tommy regressed.
Belial and Luciferiel watched in terror—but they saw his aura. His heartbeat was slowing. Tommy was pushing deep into his soul, meditating more profoundly than ever, teetering on the edge of the beyond.
There was no trace of excitement this time. There was still love, but above all, fear. Alarm.
His aura sensed the danger and was protecting itself as best it could.
But Tommy knew something else: when he regressed like this, his analytical mind shut down, but the vibration of his soul intensified. His Masters could feel it, understanding exactly what he was experiencing.
Tommy had only a sliver of his analytical mind left to use. He was using it to monitor his regression—and to send a single telepathic message: Danger.
The Priestess grew impatient. "Why the fuck can’t I read your mind? There’s a wall! A fucking wall!"
Tommy’s strategy was working.
Belial and Luciferiel pondered their next move.
Belial: "We have to reach him!"
Luciferiel: "But we’re not powerful enough to manifest in the mortal world and use magic there. At best, we can enter the dream realm… We’d need higher deities to reach Tommy in the mortal world…"
But Tommy’s meditation was powerful. This was the most desperate, most intense regression of his life.
His reach expanded—not just to his Masters, but to all his loved ones, whose souls were connected to his.
Riccardo and Francesca and their two children, Marco and Federica and their two daughters, Cristiano, Karma, Tommy’s parents… they were all asleep, and in their dreams, they saw the scene Tommy was living through, experiencing it as if they were him. But it wasn’t a dream—they felt his emotions vibrating within them.
They realized it was real.
All of them—Karma included—felt the urgency to help him, no matter the cost. Cristiano, in particular, felt the most responsible. He blamed himself for the situation, which was exactly what he’d feared most for Tommy.
Belial: "Look, Luciferiel—look! Tommy’s creating an animic circle… this regression is more powerful than usual. He’s not just connecting to his Masters, but to his entire network of loved ones. This is magic, Luciferiel. Tommy’s making our job easier. If we use the circle he’s created to open a dimensional portal, we should have enough energy!"
Luciferiel: "Yes, but if we do this, we’ll materialize everyone—Tommy’s loved ones included—in the dungeon. We’d be violating every rule of the divine code. Even if we had enough power, we’re forbidden from manifesting physically in the world of the living in the presence of multiple mortals… And I fear there’s a much darker force behind that Priestess. If we fail, we’ll endanger all their souls—not just Tommy’s, but those of everyone he loves…"
Belial: "Listen, his loved ones want to be there with him, no matter what. You can’t ignore their will. They’ll find a way to reach Tommy sooner or later, and they’ll risk a horrible end. It’s now or never, brother."
Luciferiel was convinced. "Alright, give me your hands…"
They clasped hands in a circle, channeling all their energy—and with great effort, they managed to transport themselves and all of Tommy’s loved ones in front of the Priestess, where Tommy was pleading for help.
The Priestess was stunned by the sight. Tommy’s loved ones were horrified by the scene—and his three Masters were rather bewildered by the sudden appearance of a giant Angel and Demon who had just teleported them.
But there was no time for questions.
The Priestess was about to speak when a piercing scream tore from her throat. Her body literally split apart, like a shell cracking, as she writhed in agony with bloodcurdling shrieks. The cult members were terrified for the first time—their leader had just died before their eyes.
From the Priestess’s shattered body, a great cloud of smoke emerged. As it cleared, it revealed the entity that had granted the Priestess her powers.
Satan—Lucifer to his friends—appeared in person.
Everyone recognized him.
The Evangelical cult screamed in terror.
Satan looked at them, amused. "Ah, there you are! Did you really think your leader got her powers from God? I gave them to her. You’ve been following me all along without even knowing it. But did you really think you were the good guys, doing God’s will by torturing the bodies and souls of boys just because they get off on playing puppy and Master with their partners?"
His laughter sent chills down their spines.
The cult members seemed so small now, their cognitive dissonance slapped in their faces so brutally—confronted with the evil they’d disguised as religion.
Satan continued. "Your Priestess was one of my followers. Well, now I’ve just sent her soul straight to Hell. I didn’t trust her to handle the situation… and look, we’ve got two Deities here…"
Belial and Luciferiel met his gaze. They were terrified but determined.
"Hello, Lucifer," they said in unison.
Satan laughed. "Well, well, well… what do we have here? Belial—the former infernal demon who reformed thanks to his angel brother. You’re a disgrace to your kind. And Luciferiel—what a cheesy name. Did you think you were cool fusing my name with Gabriel’s? You’re just a fallen Angel because of your theories about Angels having sexuality… and you dare profane my name with your little softcore BDSM games? You have no idea what true darkness is. And Gabriel—you don’t have a tenth of his power… and we both know Gabriel and your Angel friends won’t interfere. They prefer mortals to sort out their own messes. And you two? You’re low-ranking Deities. You don’t stand a chance against me."
Satan wasted no time. He hurled a massive surge of dark energy at Tommy, his loved ones, and the two Deities. Belial took the blow for everyone. As a former Infernal Demon, he had some immunity to darkness—and his light slightly tempered the dark attacks. But Satan’s darkness? It was absolute. Belial could only absorb the blow for a short time. His minutes were numbered. But he was buying time for the group, momentarily neutralizing Satan’s attack.
Luciferiel began tracing intricate patterns in the air with his hands, preparing a powerful spell of light.
Satan laughed. "As soon as I drain your brother, I’ll destroy you too, Luciferiel. Keep up with your little dance—it amuses me!"
Meanwhile, he had time to lay out Tommy’s future.
"Tommyyyyy… wake up from your little mental game! It doesn’t work on me. You have no secrets from me."
Tommy was awake, relieved to have his loved ones with him but terrified.
Satan continued. "How nice to finally see you face to face! I remember your nightmares well… Before you became a full-blown slut, you always feared me to death, even as a child! I’ve got a different fate in mind for you than these other little faggots who only feel despair. I’ve got something worse in store!"
"You’ll feel pain, despair, the absence of love… and you’ll like it! I’ll make you my ally. I’ll destroy your light. You’ll become this Priestess’s heir and help me destroy other innocent souls!"
Tommy was petrified at the thought.
Satan went on. "You’ve got darkness inside you, boy. I’ve heard how you cursed your empathy for the pain it’s caused you. Now I’ll bring you to the dark side. Everything you thought you learned about love, noble service, and all that Mother Teresa bullshit—you’ll forget it all. I’ll make you the opposite of what you are."
Tommy responded with courage. "I don’t care what you do to me. You can modify me however you want, but I wouldn’t be me anymore. I’d just be an extension of you. But I—I represent love. My legacy, as a person in full possession of my faculties who has seen darkness, is a legacy of love. I chose light. I gave light. You can take away my free will, do whatever you want to tarnish my memory, but you can’t change that fact."
Cristiano spoke up, shaken. "Satan, take me. Destroy my soul if you must, not Tommy’s. It’s my fault we ended up in this situation. I’m the one who deserves to be punished, not Tommy."
Satan laughed mockingly. "Poor fool! Do you really think I act based on guilt? I’m a destroyer of souls. The gentler the soul, the more I enjoy corrupting it. Don’t worry, I’ve got a standard fate in mind for you and everyone else here: eternal suffering, absence of love and hope, just like these little faggots hanging here!"
Karma barked, positioning herself in front of Tommy protectively.
Satan laughed. "And this fate, of course, includes the soul of this pathetic mutt."
Belial was struggling more and more. His body was increasingly corroded. He wouldn’t last much longer.
Luciferiel’s spell was materializing—a pulsing, pure, soothing light. But Satan didn’t seem impressed at all and mocked him.
Tommy spoke again, to buy time. "You know, you destroy souls because you want to make them like you. You hate love because you’ve never received it and don’t understand it. You don’t destroy souls—you LOWER them to your level. You’ve existed for an eternity and still haven’t understood anything about existence. But you know, it’s not your fault. God made you this way. You exist to remind us what true darkness is so we can choose light. Yours is a sad fate. I pity you."
Satan roared in anger. "You insolent little faggot! I swear, as soon as I destroy your protective Deities, I’ll turn you into the most malevolent demon in Hell!"
But Tommy had done something with enormous power: he had empathized with absolute evil and shown it benevolence. This was pure light. Luciferiel’s spell grew stronger, expanding before their eyes.
"Well done, Tommy, well done!!! Now, Angel brothers, do you really want to turn your backs on me in the face of the Devil himself just because I fucked a few needy sluts??? Help me if you’re not hypocrites!!!"
Luciferiel’s plea for help was exceptionally granted. His Angel brothers gave him access to the Light of Paradise.
"Oh, thank Heaven—literally. Now we’re talking."
Satan looked concerned for the first time.
Luciferiel spoke resolutely. "I can’t destroy you, Satan. You’re part of the Universe. But in the name of God, I close this mouth of Hell and confine you to where you came from. Amen!"
Satan screamed, "I hate you, I hate you all…" as he was reabsorbed into the black cloud, which was swallowed by a black hole in the floor. Flames erupted for a few seconds before it sealed shut.
Luciferiel was exhausted. "Well, my brothers didn’t disown me in the end…" He placed his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. "You were incredible, little one."
Belial was in agony, his body cracked, his breathing labored—but he was happy to have protected everyone.
Tommy rushed to him and hugged him. "Belial… don’t leave us. Don’t go. Thank you for protecting me… I… I love you with all my soul."
Belial smiled weakly. "I love you too, slut."
Tommy was crying on Belial’s chest. His tears had healing powers. They were mending Belial’s cracks. Riccardo, Marco, and Francesca rushed to embrace Belial too, hoping to contain the darkness corroding him. Luciferiel joined them, using the last of the celestial light at his disposal to heal Belial’s wounds. After what felt like an eternity, Belial was on his feet again. Still battered and weary, but standing.
Tommy’s mother was the first to speak, addressing her husband. "Do you realize our son got fucked by Deities? There’s no limit to his slutiness!"
The two Deities fell into a respectful, embarrassed silence. Everyone else burst out laughing—except Tommy, who was mortified.
His father looked at him. "Listen, son, honestly, we always knew you were a submissive slut. Even as a kid… you were too pure, too innocent. The sweetest boys always end up being the biggest sluts. Hell, as a kid, you used to draw hairy monsters with giant dicks!"
Tommy blushed, speechless.
His father continued. "We never believed in your heterosexuality. We were relieved when you embraced your homosexuality. And if your friends helped you understand who you are, so be it. Honestly, you could get fucked by a horse, and you’d still be my beloved son."
His mother added, "Your soul just barely escaped destruction by Satan, and you stood up to him. I don’t give a damn about the rest. Come here and hug us!"
Tommy couldn’t believe it. It was all surreal, but he ran to hug them as if there were no tomorrow.
One of Riccardo and Francesca’s children asked his mother, "Mom, what’s a slut? Is Uncle Tommy a slut?"
The situation was becoming increasingly tragicomic.
Francesca answered, embarrassed, "Well, yes… but he’s so much more than that. He’s still your uncle!"
One of Marco and Federica’s daughters asked, "Is being a slut a bad thing?"
Luciferiel spared the parents the embarrassment. "No, little one, it’s not a bad thing—Angel’s word!"
She replied, "Well, we don’t care if Tommy played grown-up games with our parents or with you. We just want him to keep being our uncle, right?"
All four of Tommy’s "soul nephews and nieces" chimed in, "Yes, Uncle!!!" and hugged him.
Tommy was a fountain of tears. It was all surreal but beautiful. Karma was rubbing against his legs affectionately.
Cristiano spoke last. "Tommy, I don’t know how to ask for your forgiveness. Clearly, if two Deities guided you in BDSM and were willing to sacrifice themselves for you—and could use divine light to banish Satan to Hell—it means BDSM can be love. The fact that Riccardo, Marco, and Francesca came here to save you, that they felt the call of your soul, clearly means they truly love you. I apologize to everyone. You were right, Tommy. I sabotaged you for myself, for my insecurities. I misunderstood your sweetness and submission in bed as weakness. I thought you couldn’t control that part of yourself, but in the end, you repressed it for years for me. You stood up to Satan himself… forget about becoming a chief physician. If you don’t want to see me again, I understand… but know that I love you. I was scared of you, but now I see you. You’re not just the sweet boy I fell in love with… you’re clearly also a trans-dimensional slut and a very strong soul. I accept it. I still don’t fully understand BDSM… but we can meet halfway if you want."
Tommy looked at him. "You almost killed me. But you were willing to sacrifice your soul for me. I know you were scared. I forgive you, love… but from now on, relax. You’re not in competition with Riccardo, Marco, and Francesca. You’re all part of my soul."
Luciferiel cut in. The cult was still trembling in fear, and the tortured, agonizing boys were hanging there.
Luciferiel: "We have to help them…"
Belial: "But we can’t restore them as they were before… we can’t undo the consequences of mortal actions. And if we did, these psychopaths—" he gestured to the cult "—wouldn’t be held accountable."
Luciferiel: "You’re right… but we can at least free them."
Luciferiel used his magic to lift the Priestess’s spell, which had wrapped their souls in a shroud of despair. Their eyes lit up again. Their pain dissolved. They understood what had happened. They had only one request: "Let us go in peace, please… and return our bodies to our loved ones. Let the world know what we endured."
Belial: "It shall be done."
Luciferiel placed his hand on each of their chests. As he uttered "Amen," the souls of each trafficked and tortured boy left their worn-out bodies and went in peace.
Belial turned to the cult. "As for you… you’ll have the rest of your lives to reflect on the horrors you committed in the name of religious purity. But you will confess every crime. If you don’t in this lifetime… I’ll ensure you pay the consequences in the next. And the evidence and witnesses are there. You have no escape."
The cult members didn’t dare utter a word.
In the following weeks, a national scandal erupted. The cult members were sentenced to the electric chair. Ironically, they were Christians who, in theory, were pro-life but had always supported the death penalty, contradicting the principle of Christian forgiveness. They died in the electric chair. The entire extremist Evangelical movement that promoted homophobia and misogyny disguised as religion, fueled by politics, collapsed in popularity. It sparked a massive global debate on what it truly means to be Christian. The families of the victims buried their bodies in a grief that words cannot express.
Tommy, his parents, Cristiano, Riccardo, Francesca, Marco, Federica, their children, and Karma became national heroes.
Tommy resumed his work as a self-employed psychiatrist, specializing in sexology. He founded a school on ethical BDSM, where Riccardo, Marco, and Francesca occasionally participated as guest lecturers.
Tommy and Cristiano found a way to combine psychiatry and art to create a therapeutic collaboration for patients. Between Cristiano, Riccardo, Marco, and Francesca, a sincere friendship finally blossomed, free of insecurities and competition.
Everything was going well.
