When I look at self-proclaimed Alphas on social media, I get disheartened. These are not Alphas in the traditional sense the human race has come to rely upon, the ones who fought wars, built cities, and protected the weak.
No, they are too often whiners who have been babied by soft, privileged lives. Their muscles are not leather-tough from hard use, but rather sculpted at Planet Fitness for Instagram. These new Alphas have no moral fiber, no central belief system, and no willingness to get their hands dirty building worlds.
This new breed wouldn’t lend a hand during a catastrophe as shocking as September 11, 2001.
I read this touching tribute to an Alpha named Michael Weinberg written by his friend Gwenn Marsh and wanted to share it. This is how an Alpha reacts when confronted by tragic and overwhelming odds.
READ:
Michael Weinberg, a 34-year-old Manhattan firefighter, was on a golf course in Queens when he heard a plane had hit the World Trade Center. His sister Patricia worked in the second tower. He put down his club and ran.
Traffic strangled every road into Manhattan. He abandoned his car in Long Island City and climbed onto a passing emergency vehicle to get to his firehouse. When he reached it, he geared up and headed toward the towers with Engine 1, Ladder 24. His sister was still inside. He didn’t know if she’d made it out.
She had. He did not.
Michael took shelter beneath a fire truck when the South Tower collapsed at 9:59am. The chaplain was with him. A captain was with him. None of them emerged. He became one of 343 New York City firefighters lost that morning. His father, Morty, a firefighter himself for fifteen years, knew immediately. “I knew he was gone,” he said. There was no ambiguity in his voice, just the certainty of a father who understood exactly what his son had run toward.
Years later, neighbors in Maspeth still spoke about him like he might walk through the door. The golf clubs he never picked back up. The car he left running. The sister who survived because that morning, nothing mattered to him more than reaching her. He never got the chance to see that she had made it out.
His name is etched into a wall with nearly three thousand others now, one line among so many. But behind every single one of them is a story just like his. A person who chose someone they loved over their own safety, in the space of a single decision that took no time at all.
What I did not mention before was that I was at work with Michael’s brother John in midtown Manhattan that day. Our small team grieved his loss together.
Rest easy, Michael. You are not forgotten.
The following post is part of a thread chronicling the life of domination of a God Alpha named Master Jase. CLICK HERE to read all posts in this thread in chronological order!
One of the most significant developments in the life of Master Jase since I’ve known him occurred a few months ago when he revealed to me he was dating another Alpha.
I wasn’t expecting this development at all. Master Jase has always seemed so complete and satisfied that adding a significant other seemed superfluous. I also wondered how any partner could handle his overwhelming power and need to conquer all flesh.
But the answer, it seems, was quite simple: Master Jase needed another God Alpha as a partner! He’s found that in his relationship with Master Dylan.
Master Jase felt compelled to tell me more about this deepening relationship, and how it is changing him.
I want to share the ever growing love and bond between my boyfriend and I. It’s such an intense, mutual, complex blend of respect, competition, pride, and love with and for each other. There’s always an underlying rivalry, but we push each other to become stronger and better than we are.
It’s hard to imagine having two god Alphas side by side in a romantic relationship, but it works. Between us, we don’t question who’s stronger, who’s more dominant, who commands, because they’re irrelevant. I already know Dylan’s a powerful Alpha in his own right, and him to me.
It’s our mutual choice that makes our love that much more powerful. And I feel there’s no better sign of alpha masculine strength than sharing a bond and love with someone at that peak of alphahood.
That’s not to say we don’t compete. It’s almost like our own love language. Just this past weekend, amongst a selection of our fags and sluts, there was an unspoken contest on who could fuck the hardest, the fastest, last the longest. Whose fag would be moaning and begging the most, whose cunting was the most extreme.
You wouldn’t be able to understand the sheer thrill behind that contest. We’re both breeder dom alphas, and we fucked through each fag and slut multiple times until they were delirious and exhausted, and by the end, there was no victory as both stood, still hard and mighty, with a roomful of completely wasted fags.
My favourite moment was when we would ‘rest’ side by side, and we would have three or four fags worshipping our mighty cocks or massaging our sweaty pumped bodies. And we would talk about the faggots, about how good this fag’s cunt was, how he screamed better when my cock was in him, how another fag’s eyes would roll more while Dylan was hammering him.
There’s also our rivalry between sports. It’s rugby final season here, and both of us support different teams. Lots of banter and shit talking, and when a game is being watched, there’s always one fag on each of our cocks nursing and keeping us hard and ready while we shit talk one another. Then whoever’s team wins gets their choice of the two fags to fuck first. Pleased to say my team has won most of their games, so Dylan has had to accept my sloppy seconds after I’ve done cunting out my fag over many hours.
And then there’s the hot intense respect for our own physical prowess. My supremacy in boxing and combat sports and rugby, and his in swimming and weight lifting. There’s nothing hotter than one bout I had where after I solidly pummelled my opponent into a daze, I look out and see Dylan looking back with an intense gaze of pride, lust and approval. The same for me when I see him weightlifting and out lifting much heavier guys. The fucks after with a shared fag or two have been the most intense and vigorous. It’s such an exciting bond that we love the raw brutal physicality that embodies both of us.
I can only imagine my alphahood has only grown, now that I’m in a relationship that values and reinforces my values and power. The trail of faggots and sluts who have increasingly submitted and blissed out on the end of my cock and through my domination in their lives is only telling of that.
It’s showed me that alphas can not only love one another, but inspire each other to be stronger, better, more powerful, and more dominant than before. My faggots and sluts have all felt the difference, they tell and thank me for the far more intense experience everytime I cunt them out.
The interchange of power Master Jase describes between him and Master Dylan is as ancient as the Bible, which reads at Proverbs 27: 17: “As iron sharpens iron, So one man sharpens his friend.” One can easily see how our greatest Alphas deeply benefit through such relationships with each other.
But notice the important role faggots play in the life of a God Alpha couple. Their personal faggots and others are used and shared with each other to enhance both of them. It’s as if Masters Jase and Dylan are sharing a meal of faggots and enjoying the camaraderie and reverie of using them together. Master Jase says this outright at one point, highlighting how their admiration for each other’s power grows with each faggot conquered, cunted, and bred.
There’s no way a faggot can ever understand the subtle complexities of Alpha coupling. We simply are not made to know it. The secrets and discoveries and unleashed primal power arising from Alpha coupling is something reserved for the greater Alpha fraternity.
However, I thank Master Jase for giving us a peek behind the curtain so we can appreciate the depth of wisdom and order built into hierarchy!
The following post is part of a thread chronicling the life of domination of a God Alpha named Master Jase. CLICK HERE to read all posts in this thread in chronological order!
Bullying has a deeply negative connotation in today’s Western whiny culture, but to students of hierarchy the act of bullying is part of the engine that drives hierarchy.
Virtually every faggot has been bullied in life, but it’s surprising how much bullying impacts the lives of Alphas.
Even God Alphas like Master Jase.
A couple of days ago Master Jase posed the following question to me:
Stretched out two muscle sluts last night, and in between rounds of cunting, had an interesting conversation. We spoke about the difference between bullying and domination. It was a compelling topic because I am a teacher, and one of my muscle fags is a cop. Before I give my thoughts, I want to know what you think is the difference between bullying and domination, especially for alphahood.
It was an interesting thought I’d never considered before. I relied this way:
I think bullying comes from a place of weakness or insecurity. A bully wants to tear down someone to make themselves feel better about their own lives or insecurities.
Domination, on the other hand, comes from a place of security. It’s about knowing you’re superior and more powerful and flexing that energy to influence inferiors.
This inspired Master Jase to pursue this line of thinking, and he makes an unexpected admission while doing so:
This may or may not come as a surprise to you. As a youth, before I accepted and blossomed into my alphahood, I was a victim of bullying. I tried very hard to mold myself into a vessel that my parents wanted me to be, and at the time, I didn’t know why it was such a struggle to be obedient to my parents’ wishes. Of course it was because the intrinsic power inside me refused to let me be controlled by another, even if it was from a place of love by my parents.
The result was though that I struggled and was vulnerable. And bullies in primary and early high school tried to intimidate and invade my space. So you can imagine both my past experiences, and my current role as an educator, means I have a very disdainful approach of bullying.
I like to summarise it as such. My dominance is all-consuming; I possess so much physical, mental, emotional and social security that coercion becomes almost unnecessary. My authority is established and inherent. A bully on the other hand, makes other men submit not through reference, but fear, and is dependent on that fake control to feel superior.
I find a gratifying thrill in breaking and brutalising bullies and showing them their place. Crush them physically and mentally, with the effortless aggression and brutality which is my domain, and turn them into fags consumed by the need to be pounded by my massive dick and filled with my potent seed. Their need to feel powerful and manly? I take that away from them, each spoken command in their ear, each merciless thrust at a time, each pump of my god cock in their cunts.
It’s especially satisfying when it’s a man who judges and bullies on discrimination. You by now know my thoughts and very passionate views on race, height, and sexuality. Being short, gay and Asian makes me no less a powerful God Alpha. Easily bending a man of fake bravado and twice my size over. Making him glad to experience real domination as I handle and play with his body and cunt as I please.
The cop was one such man. High on his power and authority, until he turned dismissive of me one night after a road-side alcohol breath test. I brutalised his throat that night, didn’t take long for him to be on his knees worshiping alpha cock. A once strong bully on his knees, weak and mind-torn, kissing up and down my huge cock sticking out my gym shorts. Then when I penetrated him days later after training him to be my slave, twelve massive fat inches fucking him and cunting him out long and hard, he was no longer a bully, merely a faggot. Just his expressions and thoughts of “Me, an alpha police officer, getting fucked in the ass!” and begging for it. He tells me it was a transformative moment for him, that he realised that all the control he had was fake and performative compared to the sheer endless power I had over him. He regularly thanks me for cunting him out and is in bliss that he is owned and claimed.
It’s ironic to say this, but I also see an alpha’s dominance as a mercy. A faggot can give up control, and in doing so, surrender and be free from the needs of being in power, of fighting and conquering. I see it when I have my sluts being domestic in my household, and when making love and worshipping my body and cock. They have surrendered to sheer pleasure of servicing me. There is no stressful thought, except for when their cunts can slide down my cock as a reward for their good performance.
Bullying is never to be tolerated. I loathe bullies, and I love to make bullies submit to a superior dominant male. Abusing their pussies and flooding them with my mighty cum, cunting them for hours until they’re beyond exhaustion and completely fagged out. Their place no longer as a fake leader, but merely a play thing and slave to a real alpha’s needs and will.
That doesn’t mean I don’t like to bully-fuck my fags and sluts. Stabbing all twelve fat inches as deep and hard as I can, repeatedly slamming in their cunts while I tease and demean them. Nothing better to confirm I own a fag’s soul through his hole than an expert bully power-fuck. The fags want nothing more than to be claimed even more.
Beautiful and eloquent dissection of bullying from both ends of it!
I must admit that my eyebrows raised in surprise when Master Jase discussed the attacks he suffered at the hands of early bullies. Knowing Master Jase as well as I do, it seems incomprehensible that any Man or Alpha would attempt to bully him.
Of course, I’ve only ever known the powerful and fully-realized King he is today. I never knew the small-for-his-age Asian boy he once was, the one who felt isolated and attacked.
There is no doubt that Master Jase recognizes what bullying did to him, how it acted like gamma radiation to fuel his growth into the raging Hulk he is today. He is extremely knowledgeable about hierarchy, and he appreciates the subtle mechanics that have made him a God Alpha and faggots into his slaves.
It’s a matrix we are all part of. Bullying is part of this process. It acts like flippers in a pinball machine, whacking each of us and sending us haphazardly careening into a collision course with our own destiny.
I’m so glad Master Jase experienced these aspects in his life. It has made him into a better Master and Owner of faggots!
But there is another development in Master Jase’s life recently that is changing him even more: LOVE.
That’ll be the subject of the next post!
Thank you, Master Jase!
Yours,
sam the faggot
The following post is part of a column written by a 40-something experienced faggot who calls himself “Mr. Fag”. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
Dear Sam,
I read your latest post and wanted to put my two cents into this conversation. I hope younger fags will read this carefully.
There is nothing extreme or pathological in acknowledging hierarchical dynamics between alphas and fags. What is extreme—and counterproductive—is the idea that a fag’s role begins and ends with service or submission without the prior work of self-possession. The most important necessity is that a fag must first take care of himself. Self-discipline, physical and mental maintenance, competence in study or work, and basic self-regard are not optional extras. They are the precondition for any healthy dynamic.
Only someone who is comfortable in his own skin, who can feed himself, manage his time, hold a job or advance a career, and regulate his impulses can offer consistent, high-quality service. The more self-aware and self-disciplined a fag is, the better the service he can provide. Chaos, self-neglect, or performative helplessness do not produce better submission; they produce burnout, resentment, and short-lived arrangements. Discipline—whether cultivated internally or reinforced by an alpha—is not a dirty word. It is a practical requirement. Positive energy exists in abundance in many fags; without channeling, it scatters. Service is one legitimate, historically recurring way to give that energy form and direction.
That historical recurrence matters, especially for younger fags who have grown up online. Classical Greek erastes–eromenos bonds combined mentorship, military preparation, philosophical formation, and sex; material support and gifts typically flowed from the higher-status partner toward the younger. Roman patronage and clientela systems were hierarchical and reciprocal: the superior offered protection, advancement, and resources; the inferior offered loyalty, political support, and useful service. Status differences were real, erotic elements sometimes present, and service expected—but the subordinate’s value (and today the fag’s value) rested on competence, loyalty, and usefulness.
Modern findom is entirely legitimate when it is consensual and clearly negotiated. It is not a necessity. It is a recent, internet-era elaboration of power exchange. Before the internet, alphas who fucked fags did so for the direct pleasure of power, control, and sexual use—nothing more was required. Cash tribute was not the historical price of admission. Treating financial extraction as the default or the purest expression of hierarchy confuses a contemporary option with older models in which the core exchange was the act itself and the structured usefulness that accompanied it.
The deeper continuity is complementary difference in drives. The alpha’s physiology and psychology typically orient toward control, fucking, breeding, competition, and outward assertion; the fag’s toward service, containment of that energy, and the satisfaction of being used within clear bounds. These are not moral rankings. They are observed patterns of orientation that allow hierarchical men to function better.
There is no inherent shame in being a faggot. Once self-discipline is established and a fag has found an alpha whose standards and presence actually fit, the dynamic can be mutually generative. Both parties grow. The alpha gains a reliable outlet and a partner whose competence multiplies his own effectiveness; the fag gains structure, purpose, and the concrete experience of being useful. Alphas have a practical duty here: letting the fag develop—skills, fitness, emotional regulation, career capacity—is not charity. It is self-interest. A stronger, more capable fag is a better instrument and a more durable one. The alpha’s need to express through sport, sex, and dominance finds its counterpart in the fag’s nature; the equilibrium is delicate precisely because it depends on both sides remaining functional adults rather than collapsing into caricature.
None of this requires romanticizing degradation or pretending that every online role-play is a serious life structure. It simply requires honesty about complementary needs and the basic adult requirement that anyone who wants to serve—or to be served—must first be able to stand on his own feet. Self-care is not the opposite of hierarchy. It is what makes hierarchy sustainable and, for those who choose it, generative.
I am sure somebody will disagree, and that is fine. But an 18-year-old man, whether alpha or fag, should still stand on his own feet. That is where his value begins.
Yours, Mr. Fag
Excellent, thoughtfully-executed essay on this topic, my brother!!! Thank you for sharing!
Love,
sam the faggot
Most aspects of life are avoidable. Bills, responsibilities, dreams, children, and debt, etc., are all avoidable.
Just two are unavoidable:
Death, and your nature.
Fighting the unavoidable will only lead to avoiding fulfillment and peace.
I hate when Masters like @RealPussyMaker refer to faggots as “objects”, because being a full-time object is not a realistic goal.
I think he’s primarily using “object” as a trigger word, and not really referring to a fag object.
The following post is part of a column written by a 40-something experienced faggot who calls himself “Mr. Fag”. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
I spent a semester abroad in Italy the summer I finally understood what I was.
I was twenty-something, soft, eager, and quietly starving for something I didn’t have a name for yet. Near the end of term a very handsome 41-year-old man—recently divorced, taking a month in a little villa in the countryside—invited me to stay with him for a week. I said yes without hesitation.
When I stepped off the train and saw him waiting, the first thought that hit me was how beautiful he looked in the late-afternoon light. Handsome as the sun. I wasn’t scared. I was excited.
The second we were alone in the car he told me to get on my knees. He needed to cum. I did it right there, like a good fag, and swallowed every drop. That was only the appetizer.
After dinner and a shower the real week began. Every time his cock got hard—which was often—he used me. He’d be watching television and I’d lean over, get him hard with my mouth, then climb into his lap so he could push inside me. He decided early on that all of his cum belonged in my ass. No waste. No exceptions. By the end of each day I was carrying at least five of his loads inside me, sometimes more. Thick, heavy, leaking out of me whenever I stood or sat.
He was powerful—not cruel, not mean, just overflowing with power. He knew exactly what he wanted and he took it. Spit ran down my chin while I sucked him. Cum filled my hole until it was overflowing. Once a day he would stand over me in the bathroom or the garden and piss on me, warm and deliberate, marking me. I trusted him completely. I never flinched. I opened my mouth when he told me to, tilted my head back, and let it run down my chest and stomach. Spit, piss, and cum—every single day. And I enjoyed every single moment of it.
A couple of days in, something shifted. He had me on my back on the couch, legs folded open, driving into me with slow, heavy thrusts while the television murmured in the background. My little soft dick was bouncing uselessly against my stomach. Then the pressure inside me built past the point I could control. My whole body started shaking. My hole clenched hard around him. And without a single touch to my cock I began to cum—clear, helpless spurts pulsing out of my limp dick while he kept fucking me through it.
I looked up at him, dazed, still shaking. He looked down at me and something changed in his eyes.
It wasn’t just arousal. It was recognition. Pure, sudden alpha epiphany. He saw my body betraying itself for him—saw that his cock alone was enough to make a fag cum without permission—and the knowledge hit him like a drug. His thrusts got deeper, more possessive. He growled under his breath, almost laughing, and kept pounding me while I twitched and leaked, completely undone. From that moment on he knew exactly what he was. He started calling himself my alpha out loud, and I felt how true it was.
The rest of the week was the same pattern: his cock in my hole whenever he wanted it, load after load left inside me, the daily shower of his piss, the constant taste of his spit and cum. Every night after he’d finished he’d hold me, stroke my hair, tell me I’d done well. He was sweet about it. He took care of me because he knew I had given myself completely to his power.
Sunday came and I had to leave. He said a friend would drive me to the station. On the way the friend asked if I’d had a good time. I said yes, then admitted I was uncomfortable sitting.
“How so?”
I told him the truth about the week—the five loads a day, the piss, the way my hole stayed open and full, the way I came hands-free just from being used. He laughed, soft and knowing, and said, “Ti ha rotto il culo.” (“He broke your ass.”) Then he pulled over, parked on the side of the road, and told me to lean over. “That’s your job,” he said. I knew he was right. I opened my mouth and did it.
After he finished he didn’t let me sit back up right away. He kept one hand on the back of my neck, looking down at me while I wiped my mouth.
“You’re really a faggot,” he said, almost gently. “Look at you. With that culo rotto you’ll never go back. You’re a fag for the rest of your life now. You better get used to serving real men like us.”
He said it again when he started the engine, quieter this time, like he was simply confirming something obvious. And once more when he dropped me at the station, leaning out the window:
“Remember what I told you. You’re done pretending. Serve real men.”
I didn’t argue. I just nodded, still tasting him, still leaking the week’s worth of cum, and felt how true every word was.
When the summer ended and I was back home I understood something permanent: how right it felt to be a fag, and how much certain men enjoy the power of using one. That week in the Italian countryside became my private reference point. The secret I carry. And whenever I meet a man who recognizes what I am, it still works the same way.
I was cunted that summer. There was spit and piss and cum, and I loved every second of it. And it was fantastic.
Yours, Mr. Fag
One of my proudest achievements with this site has been the description, naming, and categorization of CUNTING. When it happened to me the first time, I didn’t have any resources to fall back on to help me understand it. Once I finally did on this site, I was deluged by faggots asking me questions and sharing their experiences with it. Today, there simply is no other resource online that contains the wealth of information and real-life experiences than this site.
Mr. Fag’s experience shows just how powerful that experience can be! This was essentially his revelation, the moment he left whatever his life was before and embraced a new truth. It’s beautifully-written, but more importantly, it’s honest. I want all faggots to experience this transformation for themselves!
I also want Alphas to appreciate the power they have to enact this life-changing transformation in faggots. Armed with their Alpha cocks and their Alpha dominance, they are able to pound a new reality into a faggot and force a most dramatic transformation. It’s beautiful in many ways, most of all the fact that cunting cements real ownership for the life of the faggot.
There simply is nothing more powerful than the cunting of a faggot by an Alpha in all of hierarchy. It practically defines hierarchy. I hope every Alpha and every faggot can experience it for themselves!
The following post is part of a column written by a 40-something experienced faggot who calls himself “Mr. Fag”. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
I’ve always advocated for the breeding of faggots. To me, there is simply no better way to reprogram a faggot’s mind and emphasize hierarchy than mounting and breeding them. I think most Alphas agree with this, particularly given that breeding is so intimately intertwined with their own dominance.
“Mr. Fag” wrote in with a nice meditation on the hierarchical significance of Alpha cum and breeding, and I completely concur with his sentiments:
Dear Sam,
I have been thinking carefully about what breeding means in an alpha/fag dynamic, and I want to share why it matters so much.
Breeding is not merely the physical act of filling a fag. It is the clearest expression of the hierarchy that defines the relationship. When an alpha breeds a fag, he claims him in the most absolute way possible — marking him as his, reinforcing that the fag’s body exists to take what the alpha gives. For the alpha it is the purest form of ownership and dominance. For the fag it is the purest form of surrender and purpose. The fag is not simply fucked; he is used for exactly what he is meant for.
There is deep psychological weight in the act. Every load the alpha deposits is a reminder that the fag’s hole belongs to him, that the fag’s role is to receive, to stay open, to carry the proof of the alpha’s control. It is not soft romance. It is raw, hierarchical, and intentional. Breeding turns sex into something both functional and ritualistic. It strips away the notion of equal mutual pleasure and replaces it with a clear purpose: the alpha takes, the fag takes it.
Breeding is a virtuous cycle. Each time the alpha fills the fag, the alpha is reminded of his power — the right and the drive to claim, to dominate, to assert what is his. At the same time the fag is reminded of his purpose in nature: to open, to receive, to serve as the vessel that makes that power real. The more the alpha breeds the fag, the clearer both truths become. The clearer those truths are felt, the stronger the urge to breed again. The cycle feeds itself, deepening the dynamic with every load.
That cycle is beautiful and powerful. There is nothing crude or shameful in it. It is the honest expression of hierarchy made flesh. Alphas should never be shy from this act. Holding back only weakens the structure both need. Breeding is how hierarchy is lived, how it is proven, how it is sustained. To withhold it is to deny both the clearest affirmation of what they are.
There is also what I call “the privilege of the cum.” Cum is not merely fluid; it is the medium through which hierarchy is transmitted and refined. When an alpha breeds a fag, the cum carries more than seed — it carries authority, presence, and intent. The alpha who breeds regularly becomes a better alpha: more decisive, more rooted in his power, less diluted by hesitation or softness. The fag who is bred regularly becomes a better fag: more open, more aligned with his purpose, more fully shaped by the loads he carries. Breeding does not just reinforce roles; it improves them. Each deposit elevates both participants within the dynamic. The privilege of the cum is that it creates stronger alphas and deeper fags — a mutual refinement that only the act of breeding can achieve.
Breeding keeps the dynamic honest. Without the deliberate act of filling and claiming, the roles can begin to feel performative or diluted. Breeding keeps them sharp. It reminds both that the relationship is not equal, that the fag’s place is under the alpha, and that the alpha’s place is to use the fag accordingly. The aftermath — the fag remaining full, walking around carrying the alpha — is as important as the act itself. It is a continuous, quiet reinforcement of the order that has been chosen.
Breeding should not be occasional or casual. It should be central. When an alpha breeds a fag he is not merely getting off — he is asserting what they are. And when the fag takes it, he is affirming the same thing. That is why it matters.
Yours, Mr. Fag
This post is part of a thread chronicling the rise of God Alpha Master Chad, the first-born son of Master Dino and primary heir to his throne. CLICK HERE to read these posts in chronological order!
In the history of this site, I’ve covered some Alphas so powerful that they feel dangerous even in writing. These are God Alphas who are less human and more like elemental forces of nature.
Among these, Master Chad reigns supreme.
Master Chad is the straight Alpha son of God Alpha Dino. I was there when Master Dino taught his prolifically-fertile firstborn about the purpose of faggots, and Master Chad responded by breeding fags with as much gusto as he bred females. The humans inhabiting his planet are merely toys with holes for him to fill with his prodigious cumshots.
Today Master Chad lives in his perfect place, leading Hierarchy Island, killing game, and being served by an army of faggots and females while ruling alongside a handful of Alphas. It’s an idyllic existence for sure.
At Master Chad’s feet are 13 biological sons, gathered to him on the island from the various female incubators he’s impregnated. Statistically-speaking, not all of his boys would be Alpha. But what if some of them were actually faggots?
Listen to what Master Chad is discovering:
Sup cockjockey,
Dino mentioned rappin with ya this morning and it got Me thinking. Maybe ya heard about this kind of situation I got on My hands cause even Pop is uncertain how to deal.
For sure 2 of My boys are fags. Gavin and Justin display all the signs but Gavin is different. Tough as an Alpha but definitely not one. For instance, he goes up against any of his brothers but steals My fuckin dirty socks for God knows what. He sneaks around at night to watch Me fuck. I catch him sleeping with My boxers covering his face. I sleep like im dead so who knows if the little fuck is licking My nuts and shit while I’m sawin logs. LMFAO I am his focus. It’s a lot like bunny’s need for Pop growing up so I know I got another bunny in him. But here’s the deal, say c.c. brings Me a beer. Gavin will go get another can, set it beside Me and take the one his mother brought and throw it away. Then the fucker will just beam a smile at Me. Once Cal got My jacket for Me and Gavin punched Him in the nuts and snatched the jacket away and brought it to Me. He’s on Me every second and fights his brothers if they dare to interrupt his playtime with Me. He’ll sneak in bed with Me and c.c. at night and I find him with his face in My crotch or My pit. Little fucker wants his Daddy all to himself and will fight anybody, even adults who try to horn in on his scene. Goddamn faggot, He’s so into Me I already know what’s gonna go down one day, right cumhole? The looks he gives Me sometimes are fuckin pure unadulterated lust. A fuckin 8 year old is slobbering for My cock without even knowing what his feelings mean. All he knows is he wants Daddy’s attention and does his best to outdo everyone else to please Daddy, and to be near Me. Fucker can hold his own against his superior Brother, the Prince. Mommy is the only tough faggot I know of but I don’t know how she balanced all that. I miss her badly. I wish I could talk to her about this shit. She’d know exactly how to handle this. Poor c.c., she understands Gavin’s desires but it still hurts her a bit that the child she loves and raises gets pissed like it’s a competition for Me. She’s managed to make a game of some shit she does for Me by including him and it’s helped. But I still got the rough stuff to deal with. What do I do with a baby faggot in love with Me and willing to fight everybody to capture My sole attention? Fatherhood is, at one and the same time, fun as fuck and harder than My cock after a week of no sex. Pop has told Me how He’d handled bunny but she’s a pussy. Gavin is not.
Well cumhole, what’s your ideas on the subject. Ever met a subservient faggot who could beat ya up? Ever heard of anything like this before? Get back to Me when ya can.
It’s crazy to imagine Master Chad being lusted over by one of his faggot sons. Of course, Gavin is too young to even understand what he’s doing. It’s pure instinct driving Gavin’s actions, a primordial faghood working itself out.
I’m sure most fathers (Alpha or not) would react in horror if their sons acted like this. I know mine did. However, Master Chad is accustomed to his overwhelming presence forcing subs into deep submission to him. Gavin’s actions are less surprising and more about revelation.
This type of situation, one that so often results in broken relationships, can be handled effectively because Master Chad knows hierarchy so well. Hell, he DEFINES hierarchy! This is why I’m so adamant that people learn hierarchical mechanics. It gives insight where was once only fear.
In terms of what to do, I don’t think there really is anything to do. Gavin is too young to know what he’s doing. Scolding him will only confuse him more.
Just let him grow into whatever nature intends. If Gavin truly is a faggot, then there is no better place for him to embrace his purpose!
The following post is part of a larger thread chronicling a single mother named Sophie who is raising a blossoming 16-year-old God Alpha named Master Lucas. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
Alphas are pretty irresistible. They typically have the charisma, confidence, and authority to demand whatever they want and lesser ones usually comply. And when they don’t comply … well, Alphas have the strength to take it anyway.
Let’s just say they don’t meet with resistance from inferiors very often.
But Queen Sophie isn’t a typical woman. She’s a proud Spartan woman, mother of a developing God Alpha named Master Lucas. She reveres hierarchy, and doesn’t allow anything to interfere with her purpose within it.
See what I mean:
My good sam,
Raphael and I just went through our first hurdle, but I think we overcame it just fine.
Yesterday, Raphel invited me to dinner. Actually, I should say that he summoned me, as it was clearly meant as a order I would better not disobey to. We had a wonderful evening, and I invited him up to my place for one last drink. Then he told me that on Monday he was leaving on a two-week business trip to a beautiful place by the sea, and that he wanted me to come with him to keep him company.
I had to answer him that: “My love, thank you so much for this honor. But I have to decline the offer. My son is coming home from summer camp next week. I’ll be able to spend the end of August with him. I absolutely can’t miss that.” Raphael seemed a little surprised and calmly replied. “I must have been unclear. I’m telling you to come with me to support me and to spend a lot of quality time together. Surely you realize what a privilege it is.”His calm authority gave me chills, but the Spartan Mother in me couldn’t back down. I stood up and firmly reiterated my position. “Raphael, you are my superior and we both know it. I love you and I respect you very deeply. I truly long to be yours and to wholeheartedly serve you. But never ask me to chose between you and my son, because you will never win. I’ve already renounced a man I worshipped with all my heart for my Lucas. I would do it again without a moment of hesitation.”
For a short moment, I thought I was going to lose my chance with this Alpha Man who had chosen me. I was ready for it. I would gladly give up a lifetime at the feet and in the arms of a God Alpha just for one hour spent with my Lucas.
But Raphael stood in front of me and grabbed my chin and said. “Such a fierce mother. I love that. I will never stand between you and your son. You’ll always be a mother. But as a woman, you will be all mine.” Immediately, I felt my anger fade away and I thanked him.
He said “I allow you to spend the last weeks of August with your beloved son. But you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” Then I was weak and submissive once again. “Yes of course, Sir, I will make it up to you, I promise. I beg you, tell me what I can do for your pleasure? Anything, Raphael, Sir.” He hugged me tight and grabbed my bottom. “Let’s go to bed. I want to explore your body. And try out another hole.”
I think you can guess what happened. While we were making love last night, Raphael sodomized me. It was the very first time a man had penetrated me anally. Even Lucas’s father never did. And despite the pain, I enjoyed it much more than I expected… Because I knew it was making him happy and boosting his power.
This morning, I woke him up with a passionate blowjob. I was thrilled to hear him moaning of pleasure. I swallowed his semen with delight… He then asked for his own breakfast, saying that now that he’d given me mine, it was his turn! I brought it to him in bed on a tray, and I massaged and kissed his feet while he ate, under his delighted gaze.
Before leaving, as he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, he whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t always fuck you in the ass. I love your pussy too much. And anyway, one day or another, I’ll put my child in you. You’re such a great mother.” I felt overjoyed. But let’s not rush things!
Raphael is busy until late today, but he’s asked me to come over to his place tonight to stay with him until he leaves on Monday. Of course, I’m looking forward to obeying him and finally getting to see his place! I’ll pack his things like a good submissive woman, and I’ll give him something to remember me and make him want to come back!
There was a brief moment of panic when I read how she respectfully stood up to Master Raphael’s demand, but Master Raphael passed this test perfectly by honoring her courage and her devotion to Master Lucas! This truly reveals the great depth of Master Raphael’s power! Really breathtaking King!
Now, let me ask: does anyone understand why Master Raphael fucked Sophie in the ass that night?
Here’s why: psychologically-speaking Alphas will always seek the more dominant position. This happens instinctively, subconsciously. So when he conceded “power” to Sophie’s demands, Master Raphael’s innate need to dominate demanded a power exchange.
The demand to take her in the ass was that power exchange. Master Raphael was demonstrating that he still rules, that his cock still reigns supreme. It’s a classic power move by a straight God Alpha like Master Raphael!
I’m very proud of my Queen Sophie for her impassioned defense of her relationship with Master Lucas! That was the right thing to do! And ultimately that stance will resonate with Master Raphael for a long time. He will be proud to own a woman with the backbone and the pride to defend her children and her legacy.
He will own not just a woman, but a Spartan woman! And she will be his Queen!
Thank you, Queen Sophie!
Always,
sam the faggot
The following post is part of a thread chronicling a gay marriage that has blossomed into a hierarchical union between a faggot named Dean and his husband. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
It’s been interesting to me to follow the hierarchical transformation of Dean’s marriage to an oddly-repressed Alpha. As Dean’s understanding and acceptance of his purpose as a faggot has grown, his Alpha husband has also transformed into much more of the Alpha he was always meant to be.
This is why I emphasize how fully-actualized faggots help all Men become what they actually are. Even if that Man is a straight Alpha with no interest in gay sex, owning and using fags financially or domestically transforms him. That’s what we’re seeing in Dean’s Alpha husband as Dean submits to him more deeply.
But now we’re getting into tougher territory. A big test of a fag’s real commitment to service is the acceptance of an Alpha’s need to breed others. For most people, this would be a violation of a marriage bond, but for a faggot married to an Alpha it’s merely another way to submit.
But that service can be deepened even more, as Dean is going to discuss in his latest update:
As I told you some months ago, I have accepted that my Master-Husband has the need to breed other faggots to embrace his real nature as an Alpha. Despite our love for each other, our transition towards an unequal relationship required some adjustments in our apartment: I now sleep in the individual bed from the guests room and he stays in the master bedroom. This has made things more practical, as when he brings fags home the bedroom is always available and I can have my space while he fucks them. He also sometimes invites me in the master bedroom to sleep with him. This makes these nights even more special and I always take extra care to be smooth and ready for him. He particularly enjoys playing with me while I am asleep and often I wake up with him fingering my pussy or with his full length already inside me.
Unsurprisingly, he is having no trouble finding other faggots. He goes to the gym commando and these bitches practically throw themselves at him! I can’t blame them. But as I told you in my previous message, I wanted to find and offer him some faggots to show him my acceptance of our new relationship. My Master-Husband also thought that it would be a good exercise to train my submission and promised me that, if he liked them, he would let me join and give me his cum at the end.
My fag hunting exercise has proven very successful, so I wanted to share the tricks that I learned in case it was useful for someone else in a similar journey. At the beginning, I found it difficult to introduce the topic when I identified one, but eventually I realised that faggots love to talk about men and their relationships and is often one of the first conversations that they have with someone new. My strategy has been to start by asking, as naturally as possible:
This is usually followed by them asking me what do I mean by an Alpha, which enables me to talk about the hierarchy and my relationship with my Master-Husband. They are always very curious about it, and it leads to several questions about the relationship dynamics. I make sure to show them a picture of him before we talk about the sexual dynamics, so that when we do they subconsciously start imagining him doing the things that I describe.
Then I ask the question that seals the deal:
They rarely know what I mean by this, but when I explain what it is, I have them begging me to spend a night with him!
As you can see these questions are based on the material and advice that you provide in the website to approach Alphas, just tailored to faggots and their weaknesses, and it has worked wonderfully. After all, it takes one to know one! So again, thank you Sam!
I’m really proud of Dean for embracing the new arrangement in their home. I think it’s necessary, but that doesn’t make it easy. It’s great how quickly Dean’s husband instituted new rules and sleeping arrangements, staking his claim as Master. This is an important developmental step for an Alpha, and ones wise faggots accept.
The net result of Dean’s Master-husband enforcing these rules and breeding other fags in what used to be their bed is a deepening of Dean’s submission. I suppose we could call it “cucking” even though I don’t think that exactly fits. However, the arrangement does act like a chastity cage as far as denial is concerned.
Also, Master-Husband’s prolific breeding habits leaves Dean in awe. This is why Dean was so eager to find fags for Master-Husband to breed … it’s a version of tributing to a King. These fresh fags are Dean’s tribute to him.
I absolutely loved hearing how Dean inverted my approach to Alphas in order to entice more faggots! Such a clever thing to do! I’m sure Master-Husband loved these new toys being delivered to him by his personal faggot!
Once again, it’s SO IMPORTANT to embrace truth, especially in a marriage. When we do that, not only are we allowing ourselves to experience fulfillment, but we’re also giving our partner that same gift!
Thank you, Dean!
