One week later

Hey, faggot. It’s Manuel again.

It’s been more than an interesting week.

I’ve been paying close attention to every interaction I’ve had. Every person I’ve spoken to, dealt with, or been close to. It’s curious how I started noticing a certain pattern among people who naturally seemed inclined to “do me favors.” By favors, I mean following instructions I gave them and doing what I said. A simple “well done” was enough of a reward, nothing more. Even when I politely offered additional rewards, they turned them down.

I found it striking that I hadn’t noticed this before—or maybe I had but didn’t give it the importance I do now.

Even the bottoms I’ve been fucking up with these days no longer needed me to politely indicate what I wanted. It was a clear order: “Suck,” and I’d pull out my dick, and they’d start swallowing it right away, with a strange glint in their eyes. There was even one whose mouth I fucked until I came inside, and then, still hard, I filled his ass with my cum—all of this without saying a single word. I took what I wanted, and they gave me the power. It was another level. So much so that I tried something I saw in a video. I told the faggot—because I knew he was one by how he accepted everything without complaint—that I didn’t want any lube to fuck his ass. I swear, no bottom had ever screamed and moaned like a bitch the way he did in my life. I want to fuck the rest like that. The way their ass gripped my cock and squeezed it was indescribable.

But what struck me the most—perhaps something in me still appeals to that progressivism (am I an idiot, right?)—was a letter I recently read about the love between an Alpha and a fag. I’ll be honest with you: I’ve started to fully enjoy, without any guilt, why the world is at my feet. But I have no intention of being a destructive type (I think you call them destructive Alphas).

I want to enjoy the power that being an Alpha has naturally given me—to have people devoted to me, whose only thought is me—but for them to do it because they want to, not because they’re driven by fear through torture. I don’t find pleasure in destruction. And that doesn’t make me any less of an Alpha, does it? Because, in my experience, people who need to wield power through intimidation don’t really have it. Instead, they hold onto a false sense of it until those below them rebel, and their world collapses mercilessly.

I believe in the power that devotion gives you.

As I promised, I’ve ignored the couple of faggots. I’ve received several messages from them, including ones asking if I’m upset with them. I’ll figure out how to address them from now on. Do you have any advice for me?

Of course, let’s not pretend I’ve completely changed overnight. Still, I’ve noticed that I no longer feel guilty or uncomfortable enjoying this power. Strange, but true.

I want to thank you, Sam. When I started reading all this, my initial reaction was to see problems and think, “We need the police.” Don’t laugh—it’s true. Now, rereading several stories, I realize that no fag was forced to do what they did, to adore the Alpha they chose. And then everything started to look different.

I’m still far from wanting a fag to call my own—or maybe I just haven’t found mine yet. Don’t you think? For now, I’ll take it slow and explore this new horizon that’s unfolded for me.

You’ll hear from me soon, faggot.

Thanks, Sam.

P.S. Did you notice I called you faggot this time? I think I’ve finally embraced my place in the hierarchy. And I enjoy it.