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str8guy4fags2serve
Alpha faggot str8guy4fags2serve

A new life begins for fag walter

November 4, 2023 No Comments

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young God Alpha named “Jake”, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank Master Jake for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!


Even after our first dinner “date” walter continued to show up at my baseball games for the rest of the season.  That summer i arranged to play in an amateur industrial league – a baseball league that was made up of guys who worked at various factories.  The factory teams played each other.  i was a ringer – too young actually to be employed in our state, but not too young to play in the league- sort of a loophole in the rules.  But it enabled me to keep my skills up and maintain my amateur status.

walter started showing up at those games as well.  After every game walter would hang around and take me to dinner – not always high class restaurants; sometimes just diners where i could go in my shorts and wife-beater. On one of those dinner “dates” we went back to walter’s place afterwards and watched some TV and played on a new Wii that he had bought.  It was well after 11:30 when walter finally drove me home.  The next date, he asked if my parents were upset that I came home so late.  i told him that they were poised and made a real scene.  (In actuality, the ‘rents couldn’t give a shit when I came home or where I was.  On that night, they didn’t even know that i wasn’t home.)  walter probed and I played it up big.  I said that there was a scene and my mom and dad were going to impose a curfew.  walter ate it up.

“If things are so bad at home, why don’t you move out?”  He asked.

“Where would i go?”

“Well, you could move in with me.

“Really!!  That would be cool.”

And so that night I went home with walter.  The next morning, i said that i needed to go back home to pick up my stuff.  walter said that i probably shouldn’t; that my parents would try to keep me there of call the cops.  (How little walter knew about my parents.  The only reason they hadn’t already rented out my room was because it hadn’t yet clicked on them that i was not living there anymore.)

walter insisted that he would buy me new clothes, and he took me shopping.  i picked out only the most expensive sports clothes, underarmour tees and shorts, high end nike basketball shoes and baseball cleats.  walter was grinning from ear to ear as he pulled out his credit card.  Then he took me to the mens department  and bought me a $3000 Armani suit (although where he thought I would wear such a thing, I just don’t know) expensive slacks, custom fitted dress shirts, and neckties.  (Fucking neckties cost like $200 each – amazing!).

We went home and walter arranged all of my new clothes in the closet in the second bedroom.  After about three days i went to walter and told him that I felt weird sleeping in the second bedroom that was made up as a shrine to me. 

“You need to sleep in the shrine,” I said.

“You need to move your stuff into the shrine room, and move my stuff into the bedroom,” I ordered.  “Don’t you think that is more appropriate?”

Of course, walter knew that the only possible answer to that was “yes.”

“And change the sheets on the king size bed.”

walter’s life as my fag was only beginning.

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Written by: sam the faggot
Alpha faggot Hierarchy

My First Fag

November 4, 2023 No Comments

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!


I played baseball in high school (shortstop -batted third, and pretty good – started all four years).  Baseball is a great game, requiring skill, intelligence and real athleticism.  But it is not a sexy, spectator-attracting sport like football or basketball.  We generally played with only a sprinkling of fans, moms, dads (although not my mom or dad – they were totally uninterested), girl friends, in the stands.  No cheerleaders, no rah rah, no pom poms. 

But my Sophomore year I noticed this guy was always in the stands – sort of off to a side, not with anyone.  Late 20s, maybe early 30s, kinda nerdy.  Too young to be a dad, too old to be an older brother.  And he seemed to be focusing on me a lot.  He was at every home game and pretty soon he started to show up at away games.  I started to wink at him at the end of each inning when I came back into the dugout or when I went into the “on deck” circle before batting.  I hit a home run with two men on base in the bottom of the 9th inning to win the game once, and as I rounded third I doffed my batter’s helmet in his direction.  After that game, he was waiting for me as I left the locker room after showering and changing into cargo shorts, a wife-beater and flip flops, my usual street wear that year.  

“I know you hit that home run for me, Jake” he said. 

“No,” I responded, although surprised that=at he actually knew my name.  “We needed to win the game.”

“Still, an effort like that takes a lot out of a boy.  Let me buy you a steak dinner.  You deserve it.”

What the fuck, I thought to myself.  Either home for dinner for tuna casserole with my mom and dad who could give a shit about my home run.  Or steak dinner with this guy who is a fan.

“Sure,” I said.

“I think you look great in those shorts and shirt Jake, but I don’t think they’ll let you into Mortons wearing that outfit.  Do you have anything else to wear?”

“Nope, all the stuff in my locker is dirty and smelly.” 

He kinda sighed at that prospect, but said, “Well, we’ll just have to get you something to wear.” 

And fuck if we didn’t stop at the mall and he bought me a pair of $300 designer jeans that looked like they had been painted on me,  and a $100 designer tee shirt.  And some expensive cowboy-style boots.  (He really, really liked those boots.)

And when we stepped into Mortons that evening, I noticed that the place went silent.  And I know instinctively that the silence wasn’t for the dude, Walter. 

Walter was literally panting for breath as he tried to order.  So I took over and ordered for him.  I know he was grateful.  Over dinner Walter gushed about what a great athlete I was, how much he admired my skill as a ball player, how he thought i was the best looking guy on the team.  He subtly (well, he tried for subtle, but he was not) speculated that I had the biggest cock in the locker room.  My ears perked up at that.  “How’d you know?” I teased.  (Actually, I did.  Bigger than any of the players, any of the coaches.  longer, fatter. and I was only 15.)  Walter just about keeled over with excitement.   “Would you like to come back to my place?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know.  I got some homework to do.” 

Well, after a little back and forth I agreed to go back to his place for a while.  (The nice part about having parents who don’t give a shit about you is that you can change plans easily and not even show up and they don’t even miss you.)  We went back to Walter’s luxury condo, and don’t you know that fucking Walter had shrine to me in his second bedroom.  Newspaper clippings about my playing, photos that someone (Walter probably) had snapped surreptitiously, a team hat and a ball that Walter claims was my first homer of the season. 

We sat around, chatting for a while and then I asked Walter to take me home.   He suggested that since it was late (all of 9:30) I should stay the night, but I insisted on going home.  On the way home though, in Walter’s 7 series Beamer I did say that I had a good time.  I specifically did NOT thank Walter however.  But what was left hanging out there was the suggestion (unspoken) that we should do it again.

That was all Walter needed.  We did it again, and again and over the course of some weeks, Walter became my first fag.  It proved to be an education for me – and for Walter.

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Written by: sam the faggot
Alpha faggot Hierarchy str8guy4fags2serve

The Uses Of Fags

November 4, 2023 No Comments

For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young God Alpha named “Jake”, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank Master Jake for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!


At the urging of some of my buds, I am starting this blog to set out my theory and practices in how a real man uses his fags.  A man understands that fags are put on Earth to serve men such as themselves.  A Real Man knows this, understands this and accepts the worshipful service of fags as his natural due.  

Even as a boy, i understood certain things.  I knew that I was a superior guy, a natural athlete and that I was born to succeed in life.  I understood that most guys around me were inferior, and that they could find fulfillment and purpose in their lives by serving men such as me.  I came to realize, early on, that this is the natural order of things – that some men are superior, and that others are born to serve Superior Men; that they NEED to serve Superior Men. 

My first experience in commanding the respect and service of fags was when I was in high school.  I learned that some men just simply needed to give me things and to worship my body; that it gave them deep satisfaction to sacrifice for me.  And I learned that sometimes a Man just can’t have all of his sexual needs served.  The girl may be having her period or sick or tired or otherwise unwilling.  Such a girl rarely gets a second date, but still, the Man’s needs are unmet.  That’s when the fag comes in so handy.  And fags are so willing.  A Man can call them at the last minute, in the middle of the night, or while they are in the midst of doing something that the believe is important to them.  Nonetheless, the fag will drop everything, and brave the gloom of night or awful weather to come to me and service my needs.  And the fag will be grateful.

From that realization, it was only a short step to being aggressive and affirmative in manipulating fags, mind-fucking them, and putting them in the context of their place in the real world.  I see this not so much as controlling them as in giving their miserable lives meaning and purpose.  I see this is my gift to fagdom.

In this blog, I will discuss my experiences in using and manipulating fags, and in enriching my life through their service.  I will discuss some of my past experiences and whatsis going on in my life right now.  I don’t think that I know it all, and I certainly am willing to learn from Men with greater experience.  But i do think I have something to offer other Real Men who understand and are comfortable with their superiority.

About me:  I’m now 22 years old, college grad and professionally employed, about 6 feet tall, firm, muscular body of an athlete (which I am).  Naturally smooth.  Jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, impressively hung and insatiably horny.

I’ll also post pics that I find on the web or in other Tumblrs.  I’ll try to avoid the cute captions.

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Written by: sam the faggot
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