One of the most wonderful benefits of running a blog like this is the opportunity it affords me to talk to some truly astounding Alphas. I view every Alpha I meet like he is the rarest and most valuable jewel ever unearthed. Occasionally I am disappointed, but then again, sometimes my expectations are completely blown away.

Tonight I met Sir Titus. He definitely leveled me in a way I haven’t experienced often since meeting the legendary California Alpha four years ago.

Sir Titus is a 39-year-old Alpha currently serving in the American armed forces.  Like California Alpha, Sir Titus is a straight Alpha who discovered the worship of faggots and incorporated them into his daily diet of sexual conquests. A dark-complected cross between Benjamin Bratt and Cristiano Ronaldo – except more muscular – Sir Titus was blessed from birth and preordained as Alpha. Thousands of females and faggots have been sacrificed upon his long, thick, meaty Alpha cock (I’ve seen it – gorgeous). His appetites are typically Alpha – voracious, undeniable, and all-consuming.

But he told me the story of his first experience using and claiming his first faggot in college, and he agreed to let me share it with you. It gave me a WIDE-ON, and I’m sure all of my faggots will love it as well. However, this story also contains nuggets of advice for burgeoning Alphas out there as well.

I’ll stop gushing and let Sir Titus tell his story:

I’ve always been an alpha, a leader, the one people trusted and followed. It wasn’t until college that I had my first experience with a sub and embraced being a Dom.

Our lodging for college was like a 2 bedroom apartment but without a kitchen. There was a shared common area living room and a shared bathroom for 4 people.

My roommate was openly gay, and I never had any problems with that since I had known gay people back home. What was different, though, was after a month or two, he started doing things for me without me asking. I’d come home and find the room cleaned, my bed made, and he even offered to do my laundry. He started doing them under the pretense of wanting to just help out since he knew I had a busy schedule. Then I started to notice little things.

I caught him one time sniffing my underwear, for example. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was just checking if they were clean or needed to get washed. Funny thing was, I had just come back from the gym and left them on the floor while I showered, so even just by looking at them, there’s no way you would’ve thought those sweaty briefs were clean.

One night, I was super horny and thought I was alone in the room. I whipped out my cock and jacked off while watching porn with my headphones on. I didn’t hear or notice that he was actually in his bed as the covers were pulled up over his head initially when I did a “pre-check” of the room.

After I finished, as I was wiping my load off my chest, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was there. He must have been watching through a crack in his blanket.

I started noticing a pattern though: he would pretend to either not be there or be asleep, I would jack off, and every time, he would be watching me. I never acknowledged that I would catch him though because since I kinda liked the attention, I didn’t really care. It never crossed over though until the end of the first quarter.

One Saturday morning. I had spent the night at a house party and fucking some chick all night. I could feel that my cock was still sticky from her pussy and I needed to shower. When I got back to the dorm room, I heard someone was taking a shower in the bathroom. I had to piss and was waiting to give them privacy, but when I couldn’t wait any longer, I went in, stood over the toilet, and pulled my cock out.

I heard my roommate from the other side of the curtain and we exchanged some small talk while I pissed for what felt like forever. I was still a little buzzed and didn’t notice that my roommate had finished his shower. He had pulled the curtain back to grab his towel but stopped when he saw me standing there pissing. It was the first time he had gotten a good look at my cock and when I caught him, he just said that he was staring because my cock was kinda shiny and slick looking and he was puzzled. I told him how I had spent my night fucking and it probably looked that way from still having lube and juice from the chick’s cunt still on it. Being a little drunk and still very horny, I asked him,

“I know you’re gay, but you ever tasted pussy?”

“No.”

“You want to right now?”

“How?”

I gave a nod down to my cock, but since he was either confused or hesitant, I had to spell it out for him.

“My cock still has pussy on it. If you want to taste pussy, you can by licking it off my cock.”

He seemed conflicted and I didn’t feel like waiting for an answer. I took off the rest of my clothes, and stepped into the shower.

“While you’re deciding, I need to wash off”, I said, and pushed him to the back of the shower and stepped in.

For reference, the shower was a tiled walk-in shower that was big enough for multiple people. I had 2 other girls in there with me a few weeks prior, so, yeah, you know…

I turned on the shower and faced towards him, letting the water run down my body, from my shoulders to my chest, tracing my abs, along my hips and down my legs. I love that feeling and closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation.

I almost forgot I wasn’t alone in there until I felt that familiar sensation of lips making contact with my cock. I opened my eyes and looked down. He was so hesitant at first and was looking up at me the whole time. I was too horny and buzzed to give a fuck, so I just grabbed the back of his head and slid my cock into his mouth.

Poor guy could hardly take even half of it before he started to choke. I pulled my cock out because I wanted to fuck his mouth, not have him pass out. I asked him if it was too much for him, but his response revealed his true nature.

“No, sir. I can take it all. It just has a strong taste. I’m too much of a fag to enjoy the flavor, but if cleaning it means I get to taste you, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

And there it was. Three things that I later learned was common for subs.

Referring to alphas as “sir”

Revulsion towards pussy

Admitting that no matter what, they’ll suffer if it makes the alpha happy

“So you’d do anything? I can do whatever?”

He nodded as he went back to trying to deepthroat me. My cock was getting hard again and by now, it must’ve been tasting more like me and less like the cunt I had plowed a few hours before because he showed me the true lust of a fag. No chick had ever sucked my cock so eagerly, so skillfully, and with such lustful appreciation. He took it all the way down and worked his throat on it to massage it. It felt good and, despite already having cum twice within the past 8 hours, it wasn’t going to be long before I was ready to blow another load.

I took his hands by the wrists and placed them on my pecs, letting him feel the muscles I knew he had been longing to caress since he first saw me. As his hands explored my body, I flexed each muscle group as he touched them until they settled on my glutes where he gripped as I clenched. I moaned and told him I was close.

He gripped my ass and sucked harder, giving me the perfect non-verbal indicator of where he wanted me to cum. I told him to get ready because I was about to reward him with what he’d been wanting: my load down his throat.

He went into overdrive and with that, I gave my first submissive faggot his reward.

Once the orgasmic shakes stopped, I pulled my cock out of his mouth as he selfishly tried to lick the rest of my cum up.

“Now get out of my shower. I need to wash up.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to get breakfast and then the library. I’ll be back around noon. My lunch….?”

“Will be waiting for you.”

“And my cock?”

“Will be sucked and worshiped for you.”

“Good. Now fuck off faggot.”

And as he left, I felt empowered, realizing the benefits that came with my true calling, and thought to myself,

“I could get used to this….”

For additional info, I moved to San Francisco after college and got connected by another alpha who really helped me hone my skills. He taught me a lot. I like to think of it as I was a hammer before, but now I’m a scalpel. 

I got into a thoroughly enjoyable conversation with this tremendous Alpha Male, including a few philosophical discussions on the nature of Alphahood and faggotry that I’ll save for another time. 

I highly recommend that you all head over to his Tumblr blog @alphaexploits and follow him! It’s not often we get to savor the words of a true human god! Sir Titus is one of them!

How do I find a man like Sir Titus? If those are his words. The way he wrote about getting sucked off, I need to give him more to write about.

Yes, Sir Titus is a Supreme Alpha god. I have truly been enriched by his presence in my life.

This incredible post was written by Sir Titus, known as @alphaexploits on Tumblr. I consider it to be essential reading for all Alphas.

There are two main schools of thought regarding Alphahood: development and destruction. Each Alpha naturally gravitates to one of those two paradigms. Personally, I tend to try and develop my subs/fags, and while there can be some overlap, that’s the style of Alphahood that feels natural to me. There’s a lot that comes with being an Alpha. There’s the obvious perks (sex, service, adoration), but there’s also the added responsibility when you’re a developer. When someone submits to you, they are trusting that you will help them grow and improve. They are trusting that you will not take advantage of them beyond comfortable limits. And sometimes, they are trusting that you will be there no matter what. Last night, I was my fag’s terra firma.

   I was horny; couldn’t sleep. Cody, my current fag, conveniently lives in an apartment down the hall from me. I texted him three simple words: “I need head.” Ten minutes went by without a response. This was out of character for him because he would always message me back, even if he was busy, to let me know his availability.
   I texted him again and waited. Five minutes later, he messaged me back to say he would be over in 10 minutes. I realized that this would be 30 mins later than what I originally wanted, but it was better than nothing.
   When he knocked on my door, I opened it and could see that his eyes were red and puffy. He came in, went to my living room, and dropped to his knees as he has been trained without addressing something out of the norm. I walked to him, stood him up, and brought him to the couch to sit beside me, asking him what was going on. He said he didn’t want to bother me with anything and was sorry he had made me wait so long.
   I put my hand to the said of his face and held it there, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”, I asked him. As horny as I had been, all that went away when I saw how bothered he was. Cody belongs to me, and I don’t like seeing my claims in harm.
   He pressed his head into my hand and began to cry. He had received a phone call from his half-sister that their father had had a heart attack and was in the hospital. She didn’t have any information for him other than that, but wanted him to know. Cody had never spoken to me about his family before, but when I pulled him close to me, he opened up and collapsed onto my chest with complete exhalation.

Cody grew up in Nevada. When he turned 16, his father rented him a cheap motel room and an even cheaper hooker in an attempt to set his son on the “straight” and narrow path. He hoped that if Cody fucked her, he wouldn’t turn out to be a “fucking faggot”. But he knew the truth, Cody said. He had always known the truth. Cody’s dad went back to the motel room the next morning to pick up his son. The hooker was leaving as his dad came in. Her parting words were that she that she was keeping the money despite Cody never get hard enough to fuck her. As the door slammed on her way out, his father’s fist slamming into the side of Cody’s face. It wasn’t the first time his father beat him. I wasn’t the last.
   Two years later, Cody joined the military. He got out of Nevada. He got away from his father. He thought he would never have to go back. Cody would have considered himself completely cut off from that old life if it wasn’t for his half-sister. They were close, but when they talked, they would never discuss their father. They only talked about their jobs, music, or guys they were seeing. He felt bad for leaving her, but she understood. It helped that not only did she live with her mother and not with their father, but also that it was her idea for him to enlist. The military took Cody away from Nevada, around the world, and now it had brought him to me.

   As we talked, he admitted that he felt ashamed and angry, not because he was crying, but because of whom he was crying for. Tears for a man who had beaten him emotionally and physically for years, had never accepted him, and had never shown him any attention or kindness. For a man who was missing out on an opportunity to know someone loyal, committed, and caring.
   As I listened to Cody, I felt rage surge inside me. Cody is a faggot, but he’s my faggot. No child deserves growing up with that sort of a parent. I could see why Cody gravitated towards strong men; his search for a true father-figure. I wondered if this rooted desire was common among fags and subs. Something to explore for another time. Last night was not the time to probe his psyche. It was time to just listen.
   And so I listened. Once the pent up cacophony in his well ran dry, I led him to the bedroom, we stripped the remainder of our clothes, and we got in bed together. We spooned and I held him close. I could feel as his body tried to relax, but then it would tremble from the emotional tempest within. I pulled him to me, hoping he would find comfort in my arms. With every exhale, his spasms of emotional dissonance became less intense than the previous surge until I felt him finally fall asleep.

   Being an Alpha isn’t about only about being a Dom in the bedroom. Sometimes, it’s about being the person others look to when they are incapable of tending to themselves. Sometimes, it’s about being the dam when life tries to flood the fields that others tend. And sometimes, it’s about being the constant for a scared faggot who just needed to be held and made to feel safe. It’s about being their terra firma.

This is a masterpiece, easily one of the best essays ever written on this site regarding Alpha rulership and responsibility.

@alphaexploits is one of the most purely dominant Alpha animals I’ve ever met, which I’ve found striking given his intellect. It’s that duality in him that makes me crumble in awe, much the way @natural-hung-bull or @straightalphamike have always brought me to my emotional knees in wonder. The way @alpha-john makes Simon feel.

The greatest Alphas transcend the sexual roles of Dominant and submissive and touch the very heart that beats at the center of the Hierarchy. They become more than a Dominant Man – they become God. They become the great mountain where inferiors can find safety and comfort.

Sir Titus, @alphaexploits, is that great mountain, that God. Thank you, Master, for reminding us why.

This incredible post was written by Sir Titus, known as @alphaexploits on Tumblr.

The day after I moved into my apartment here, I went around to the neighbors on my floor to introduce myself. I always found that having made this face-to-face introduction makes for better interactions with them if needed in the future (asking them to turn their music down, needing to borrow a cup of sugar, etc.). Cody’s was the last apartment on my rounds. 

“Hi. Just moved in and wanted to introduce myself. I’m in the last apartment at the opposite end.”

I extended my hand but he looked both confused and distracted, eyeing me up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized, after an awkward moment. “Thought you might have been the food delivery guy I just buzzed in. I’m Cody.” He shook my hand and I could feel how small his hand was in mine. The physical differences between us were noticeably apparent. He was about 6″ shorter than me, younger in his mid-20s, shaved head, and a nervous glimmer in his eyes that tried to hide what I had immediately been able to tell: he was a fag in need.

His small hand was dwarfed in mine and I tried not to crush it. “Well, Cody, it’s good to meet you,” I said, holding his little hand longer than usual as I looked him in the eye. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no food. Haven’t even had time to stock my fridge yet.”

The elevator down the hall dinged and a guy carrying bags with food started walking towards Cody’s apartment. “Well, Sir, if you need any help moving in or with anything, I’m right here if you need,” he said with the verbal acknowledgment of my status in the hierarchy.

“I’m not an Officer; you don’t need to call me ‘Sir’, you know.”

“I know, but you look like someone people would call ‘Sir’, so you never know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I laughed. “Well, your food’s here. Good to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so, Sir,” he said, emphasizing my title, as I headed back to my apartment.

Oh yeah, he’s a fag, I thought to myself.

The next morning, I spotted Cody heading in to work as I was walking in. We exchanged some small talk, he asked how I was adjusting to the constant heat, and talked about where I was working. Turned out that our work centers were near each other.

“Do you drink coffee in the morning?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m not much of a morning person, so it’s kinda a necessity. I go all “Hulk Smash!” if I don’t get my caffeine,“ I joked.

“I’ll try not to piss you off then,” he smiled. “I used to wrestle in high school. I was pretty good, but I don’t think I was ever good enough to take down someone as big as you.”

“Did you just call me fat, tiny?” I barked at him.

“No! I meant you’ve got a lot of muscle on you! I didn’t mean…” He looked at me and seeing me crack a smile, realized I was fucking with him. “Jackass.” He laughed.

“Be careful what you call me before I’ve had my coffee,” I reminded him playfully.

Cody bought me my morning coffee before we split to report in to our work centers.

After work, I headed to the gym. Although the gym is air conditioned, when it’s over 100 degrees outside, it doesn’t stop you from sweating your balls off even when you’re just standing around.

“Here, it’s better than the water fountain, trust me,” I head a familiar voice say to me. I turned around and Cody was handing me a fresh bottle of water.
“Thanks, stalker,” I said, greedily gulping down the water. The cold water hit my throat hard and I let out a much needed burp.

“Classy,” Cody joked. “And oh so manly.”

“If you think that’s manly…” I said, pointing a finger up, telling him to wait.

“I don’t get it. What am I…” and at that moment, my silent protein fart hit his nose. “Holy shit! What the fuck died in there?” He laughed through the fumes.

I laughed. “Just my dreams and aspirations.”

Cody laughed and took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’ve got enough protein in your diet, Sir.”

“Never enough, boy. Anyways, I think I’m done here. Gotta get some real food for my fridge. What time you working tomorrow?” I asked.

“I have to go in early for the rest of the week.”

“Ah. I’ve got orientation all week, so same time for me. See you around, kid.”

I didn’t turn around, but I could see in the mirrors that Cody’s eyes followed me as I left the fitness center.

The next morning, I got in to work and found a thermos of coffee at my desk with a Post-It note: “Dr. Banner’s coffee”.

I smiled. “Kid’s got a sense of humor.”

At the end of the day, I left the dirty thermos where I found it and headed out.

I didn’t see Cody again that week, but every morning, a fresh thermos of coffee waited for me. Kid was certainly trying.

The next time I ran into Cody was at the gym the following Wednesday. “Thanks for the coffees, kid. Haven’t had to punch anyone…so far,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Sir. So how’s the move going? Adjusting?”

“Not too bad. Still living out of my suitcases until my stuff gets here. Almost out of clean clothes and not looking forward to doing another run to the laundry room.” The laundry room in our apartment building is on the ground floor and is a pain to lug laundry up and down the elevator. It’s not hard, just a pain in the ass.

“I actually love doing laundry,” Cody said. “If you want, I wouldn’t mind doing yours for you. I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on with the move and everything.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah. Find it relaxing; making order from all that chaos. Sounds weird, I know…”

“I mean, I’m not going to make fun of you if it means I get clean clothes and don’t have to do them myself,” I replied.

Cody laughed. “Plus, I’m off tomorrow and can do them then. I can pick them up from you later if you’re around.”

“Cool, well, I’m almost done here and then I’m heading back to the apartment. I’ll be home all night.”

“I’ll be there, Sir.”

I had barely entered my apartment and had time start refilling my water bottle when I heard the knock on the door.

“Hey, come on in. Didn’t expect you so soon,” I said as I let him in.

“I can come back if you’re busy.”

“Nah, it’s cool. Haven’t had a chance to shower yet though. Mind giving me a few minutes to get out of these so I can add them to the pile?” I asked, tugging at my sweaty gear.

“Not at all, Sir. Mind if I watch some TV?”

“Make yourself at home,” I told him as I headed to the bathroom. I took off my sweaty shirt and poked my head out of the bathroom. “Hey, Cody! Think fast!” I said, and threw it at him. He turned around just in time for it to land right on his face. I laughed and went back to shower.

I came out in just a towel and found Cody watching TV while holding on to my t-shirt like it was some sort of security blanket. His faggotry was confirmed.

“Goddamn, you have a nice body,” he said when he saw me. “You’re fucking huge, Sir!”

“You mean this?” I asked, popping a double bicep pose for him. As I flexed, my towel unintentionally slipped from my waist and got caught on my dick.
“Not what I intended to happen, but oh well,” I laughed. “Not that you would mind.”

“What do you mean, Sir?” He asked, slightly timidly, eyes down, as he tried to keep his gaze from scanning my body.

“We gonna keep playing this game, kid? I know what you are, boy.”

“And…and what’s that, Sir?” He asked timidly.

I moved in front of him on the couch, towel still hanging on my cock, inches from him. “You’re a faggot,” I stated plainly the way you would say that the sky is blue.

“I think there might be a mistake. I don’t know what you think, but I’m not…”

I held up my hand to stop him. “Look, I’m going to give you a choice. You can either take my laundry and go do it and we won’t talk about this again. Or…”

“Or what, Sir?” He asked, his voice slightly shaking. He looked up at me for the first time since I began this confrontation.

“Or you get off my couch, get on your knees, and admit that you’re a faggot. If you do that, if you come clean to me and to yourself, I’ll let you rub my muscles.”

He paused for a moment, got off of the couch, and when I sat down, dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Sir, if I was a faggot, would you still want to be around me?” He asked, afraid that the answer might be “no”.

“Of course,” I said reassuringly. “I’ve known you were a fag from the day I met you. The coffees and attention made it kinda obvious too.” I laughed.

“I was hoping you’d notice, Sir,” he said, “but I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it. You never know how people will react.”

“How could I not know?” I laughed. “You practically drool whenever I’m around.”

We both gave a laugh that diffused his nervous tension that had filled the room. I leaned forward, took his chin in my hand, and asked, “So tell me, what are you?”

“I’m a faggot, Sir,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes.

“You want to be my faggot while I’m out here?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, let’s call this your audition. You want to touch my body?”

“Please, Sir.”

I readjusted the towel horizontally, continuing to cover my crotch. “Alright, let’s see what you can do. Anything covered by the towel is off-limits. Everything else is your playground. You’ve got 30 minutes. Go.”

Cody took my right leg in his hands and caressed down until he reached my foot. He pressed in on the arches at the pressure points before taking my toes in his mouth. He sucked on my toes and licked between them while quietly moaning. He switched to my left leg and did the same thing. It felt good to just relax while getting worshiped. His hands slowly moved up to my calves and rubbed them firmly. As I flexed them, he traced the muscle divisions with his fingers.

I looked at the clock. “Fifteen minutes has elapsed, boy.”

Cody knelt up and without looking at me in the eyes, asked, “May I smell your armpits, Sir?”

“You may.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He spent the next fifteen minutes going from one pit to the other, licking my nips and kissing my chest as his mouth moved to the other side. Nose in my pit, he breathed deeply, then gently took my armpit hair in his mouth and sucked on it as he tried to taste any sweat I may have missed cleaning in the shower.

After thirty minutes, his time was up.

“And that’s time,” I announced. “You did a good job, but I need to jack off, fag. Time for you to get the fuck out.”

“Can I help you with that, Sir? Even just to watch?”

“Don’t be greedy. You have to earn it,” I told him.

“Yes, Sir,” he said disappointed but without complaint as he headed to the door.

“Hey, fag…”

“Yes, Sir?” he asked, turning around.

“Good job. Keep it up.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, the smile returning to his face.

The minute I heard the door close, I grabbed my cock and stroked it. Didn’t take me long before I was ready to cum. I looked around and saw my sweaty t-shirt that Cody had left on the couch. I grabbed it and shot my load onto it.
After catching my breath, I got up off of the couch and took my cum-stained t-shirt to the laundry basket.

“Shit,” I thought to myself, and grabbed my cell phone. I took a photo of my laundry and sent it to Cody with the message, “Forget something?”

Less than a minute later, there was the familiar knock. I grabbed my laundry basket and took it to the door. I opened the door and handed him the laundry. I stood there naked, cock swinging in the breeze.

“You need something, fag?”

“No, Sir. I’ll have this done for you tomorrow.”

“I know you will,” I said warmly, and closed the door.

Five minutes later, I received a text from Cody. Captioned with, “couldn’t help myself”, it was a selfie of him with my dirty t-shirt in his mouth, sucking on one of my cum stains.

I had to laugh. This assignment might not be so bad after all.

This is another entry in the incredible life of Supreme Alpha Sir Titus. For all of his true stories, CLICK HERE to read them in order!

I asked Sir Titus (@alphaexploits) to write about cunting a faggot from an Alpha’s perspective. I knew he was the right one to take us through such a monumental journey; he’s a talented writer, and extremely insightful. And he did not disappoint. Thank you Master!

The following happened on August 31, 2019. I’ll eventually get around to writing about the whole weekend, but for now, I want to focus specifically on the events of Saturday evening. It was Labor Day weekend and the scheduling gods decided to be kind to me and my fag, Cody. With our three days off, we decided to spend the weekend “hanging out”. And by “hanging out”, yes, I mean fucking as much as possible.

We had been fucking around since Friday afternoon, mixing sex intermittently with eating, resting, and even taking a break to go to the gym.

Saturday evening, naked on the couch, we assumed our usual positions: me sitting up, him laying down with his head on my lap. We started watching John Wick 3. About 20 minutes in (antique store fight), I started to get horny. Action movies have that effect on me; go figure. Cody noticed my cock getting hard on the side of his face and began to suck on my dick.

“Go shower,” I told him, rubbing his buzzed hair.
“We gonna fuck?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“Oh yeah. We gonna fuck.”
“Sir, yes, Sir!” he said, giving me a goofy salute and bounded off to the shower, his cute ass bouncing in his jockstrap.
I kept the movie going while I set up. I got the baby oil and the lube from the bedroom. I laid a folded padded blanket for cushioning on the coffee table between the couch and the TV and tossed a fresh sheet over it. I turned off the lights and adjusted the blinds so that only the orange glow of the setting sun filtered in.

Fifteen minutes later, Cody emerged from the bathroom. I could smell the fresh soap and eager anticipation all over him.
“Lay on your front,” I said to him, pointing to the makeshift massage table.
The coffee table is small and not meant for a full-body extended on it. Cody’s torso lay on the table while his bottom half dangled off the end. I grabbed the baby oil and stood above and behind him. I opened the bottle of baby oil and dripped it down along the ridge of his spine. I re-capped the bottle and dropped it on the floor. Leaning forward, I began to rub it into his soft skin. His small frame felt tiny in my hands as I rubbed his delts, his shoulders, his lats, down to his waist. He moaned in soft relaxation as I felt his body melt into my hands.
I knelt down behind him and pushed his legs to the side to open his ass to me. I pressed an oiled middle finger onto his hole and it opened willingly to the pressure. I felt his ass grind slightly as I made contact with his prostate. I moved my finger around a little before retreating from his ass. I sniffed my finger to do a spot-check. It was clean with only a faint whiff of the oil. Cheek in each hand, I pulled them apart, giving my tongue access to his hole. The light flavor of baby oil was not enough to distract me from the experience of eating his ass. I could feel him twitch with every flick and lick of my tongue. Rimming isn’t that different from eating pussy. You look for the reactions and you enjoy the sexual reaction of the aroused body part. His hole, like the rest of his body, was relaxed. It was ready.

I got up and moved to his front, kneeling down near his head. His head looked up and his mouth opened. He took my cock in his mouth slowly, sucking mostly on the head to enjoy my steady of stream of precum that he knew wouldn’t stop until after I came. I placed my left hand on the back of his head and leaned over his back to finger his hole. It was tight but never clenched in resistance, a tell-tale sign in that moment that a fag has accepted your hierarchical superiority in the power dynamic. He nursed on my cock until I was hard.

“Stand,” I said to him. I didn’t bark it as an order, but stated it as a statement of destined fact.
He stood up at relaxed attention next to the coffee table. I walked up and approached him until our bodies were centimeters apart. I leaned into his ear and spoke softly.
“Tell me; what are you?” I asked.
“A fag, Sir.”
“Whose fag?”
“Yours and only yours, Sir.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of my loads, fag?”
“I’m done when you say I’m done, Sir.”
“You think I’m done?”
“God, I hope not,” he said, breaking the tension and moaning with anticipation as my warm breath made his ears flush red.

I placed my hand firmly on his neck and walked behind him until I had him embraced from behind.
“Walk.”
He walked forward as I led him to the couch and stopped. I released him and sat down. When I was comfortable, I motioned with two fingers for him to approach. He straddled me and sat down as my cock pressed along the crack of his ass. I placed my hands behind my head and looked into his eyes, challenging him to look away. He just smiled and rubbed his ass on my cock. I bounced my biceps and smiled back.
“Goddamn! Do you know how hot you are?” he asked.
“Oh, I know,” I said smugly.
He leaned down and nuzzled into my armpit, sniffing and whimpering with each breath. My cock stiffened in response; it wanted to be inside him. He raised his eyebrows in a question we both had heard repeatedly over the past 24 hours, and I nodded with the same response I had given him every time.

Cody squatted over me, grabbed my cock gently, and guided it to his hole. His hand felt so small on my dick as he slowly lowered himself until I was fully inside him. I scooted forward a little and he wrapped his legs around my waist. I held him close as I felt his ass reform itself around my shaft. His feet pulled me close as my arms wrapped around his midsection, neither one of us wanting to let go as we pressed ourselves into each other’s body.

When I felt him relax a little, I began to pump slowly and evenly to help him accommodate more. He held on to my neck and began to bounce a little in time with my thrusts before holding himself, impaled and in position.

Then it happened.

As he held me buried, I felt his ass open up deeper inside than I had ever felt before and I slid in further than I had ever been.

I’ve fucked deep before. I’ve seen the look of lustful abandon in a faggot’s eyes. I’ve felt them surrender to me completely.
His eyes rolled back and I could feel his cavity twitch like a vaginal orgasm.

I recognized some of the familiar signs of a cunting, but there was something different. His body shuddered and I saw his eyes well up with tears.

It was then that I realized what was happening: this was his first time being cunted.  And this was the first time I had been someone’s first cunter.

“It’s okay. Go with it,” I said to him calmly.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t know what is happening,” he blurted back through tears and quivering lips.
I pulled him to me until his head rested on my shoulder.
“It’s okay. Let it wash over you,” I assured him, rubbing his back with one hand and his head with the other.
I held him firmly in place as his body shivered with the overwhelming surge of emotions of this experience. When his body stopped shaking, he sat up and wiped the tears from his face.
“Fuck this is a lot,” he said. “Good, but a lot! I don’t really know what’s going on.”
”You’re being cunted. Do you need a moment?“
“God no. I just need more!” he said, laughing through the last drops of tears.

Still inside of him, I stood up and carried him to the bedroom. I lay him on his back at the edge of the bed while I remained standing.
“You sure you want more?”
“Yes please, Sir!” he whimpered.
I began to fuck slowly as I watched his face for signs of any lingering emotional complications. I felt his ass reopen for me as I began to cunt him again. His eyes rolled back and he began to moan through deep breaths.
“Please don’t stop,” he begged as his hips spasmed on my cock.
“I’m not stopping until you’re bred.”
My thrusting became an instinctual Alpha rut as his cunting continued.

In my mind, all I could think about was how he would never be the same. My Alphaness, my very essence, evolved this subservient bottom into a true fag. I took his real virginity, and no matter what, he would never forget me or the transformative impact I was having on his life. This turned me on more than I can put into words.

All. Because. Of. Me.

My rut was interrupted when I felt his ass twitch on my cock internally. I looked down to see his fag dick start to cum. In the midst of his involuntary orgasm, he began to apologize, but I placed my hand over his mouth to silence his words and quieten his mind. I resumed my rut until I was ready to cum.

“Now you’re a fag,” I said, and came inside his newly cunted fuck hole.

Once my dick stopped throbbing and filling him with my cum, I collapsed onto him. His body twitched as my cock softened in him. He began to cry a little as he held me tight on top of him.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered as I kissed the sweat that lingered on his neck.

“Thank you, Sir,” he said through gentle tears. “I’m glad it was you.”

The following was posted to @alphaexploits, the Tumblr page of legendary Sir Titus. This post is for every Alpha who is feeling stressed, and every faggot craving the opportunity to truly make a difference in their Alpha’s life. Read it and meditate upon it!

For the past two weeks or so, I’ve been in a progressive funk. There were some obvious stressors that contributed to this: work stress, online class deadline stress, “knowing I’ll be losing my regular fag soon” stress, “fucking up my knee so my gym workouts haven’t been as solid as I’d like” stress, etc. 

No one is ever perfectly happy all the time. It happens.

My faggot picked up on this and has been giving me the necessary space I need while also being incredibly attentive to making sure everything in the apartment is clean and orderly. Clean home, clean mind. He has also been available for my use sexually every day.
Perhaps this sense of “regularity” has taken some of the luster out of the sex recently. Us Alphas are hunters. We don’t always like things just handed to us. A little challenge here and there makes things more interesting. It’s like the scene in Jurassic Park where they comment about the T-Rex not wanting to be fed because it wants to hunt.

This afternoon, after we got back from the gym, I sat on the couch watching porn as my fag sucked me off and licked my sweaty sack. My fag must have sensed my lack of enthusiasm because after he swallowed my load, he did a check-in with me about things. A good fag handles your sexual needs, but a great fag handles all of your needs. I’m fortunate that I have a fag with whom I can communicate with on a level that maintains our power dynamic, but also affords me the opportunity to be honest with him about what is going on with me internally. When I was done venting, he said to me: 
“Sir, go shower. When you come out, I’m not going to just be “your fag”. I’m going to remind you that’s you’re a fucking king.“

Normally, I would have gotten upset that a faggot was telling me what to do, but he was right, and so I laughed at his assertiveness and constructive criticism.
I went to the bathroom and took a nice long shower, letting the hot water soothe my muscles and wash away the grime of life. I toweled off and walked out naked to find him in the kitchen finishing dinner prep while wearing my favorite jockstrap I like to see him in.

As soon as he saw me, he turned around and dropped to his knees, lowering his head in deference.
“Dinner is almost ready, Sir,” he said to me. “I have a salad for you at the table if you’d like something to eat now.”
I saw that there was only one place setting at the table for me.
“Are you eating with me?” I asked him.
“I eat when you tell me and where you tell me,” he replied, keeping his head down.
I was starting to enjoy this, and told him to finish making dinner while I started on my salad. I warned him that if he fucked up my dinner, I would make him start over again. He nodded in acknowledgement.

I had just finished my salad when he brought me my dinner. He’s still learning how to cook, but had managed to get some pasta in the time I was in the shower and having my appetizer. Simple, but he made the effort.
He set the plate down in front of me and stood by the table, waiting for my next command.
“Go get your food, and bring it here,” I told him.
He followed the orders literally and once again stood by the table, holding his plate.
“You can eat there,” I told him, pointing to the floor with my fork. I felt a sadistic spark in me ignite, knowing that he would do whatever I wanted. It had been dormant for too many days.
“Yes, Sir.” he said, and ate beneath me.

When I was finished with what he brought me, I snapped my fingers and he stood at attention.
“I want more. Did you make me anything for dessert?”
“Not yes, Sir, but I have something in mind and will have it ready for you before you’re done.”

He brought me my second plate and scurried in to the kitchen. I looked down and saw that he still had half his plate left. His food was getting cold. I had two options I could’ve used. I could have told him to make me something after he finished eating. Or, I could say fuck it. I said “fuck it”, and kept eating.
As I finished my dinner, he brought out a bowl of chocolate pudding with a spoonful of peanut butter mixed in it. It’s a simple dessert, especially since I know he just scooped it out of a pudding cup, but he knows I like it. It’s that attention to detail that makes a difference.

I turned my chair to the side as he handed me the bowl and I spread my legs wide.
“Suck me off. That’s your dessert,” I told him.
“Yes, Sir,” he said obediently, and dropped to his knees.
He took my dick in his mouth and began to slowly worship my cock. I pushed him off my dick and slapped him across the face.
“Did I specifically tell you to suck my cock?”
“No, Sir.”
“What did I tell you?”
“To suck you off, Sir.”
“Then fucking do it,” I commanded, shoving his head back down on my dick until I could feel myself in the back of his throat. He resumed his cock sucking as I finished my pudding.

I forgot how good it can feel to really fucking own someone. I wouldn’t say that things had gotten overly intimate, but they had gotten rather casual.
Tonight, fuck casual.
Fuck politeness.
Fuck political correctness.
Fuck faggots.
And fuck holding back. 

I shoved him off my cock, grabbed the empty pudding bowl, and shot my load into it.
“Hands behind your back, faggot.”
He complied. I held the bowl out to his mouth.
“Lick it clean.”
He slurped up my cum and any remaining pudding left in the bowl until it was clean.
“Thank you, Sir,” he said as he sat back on his knees.
“Go do your prep then present yourself for inspection.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He took off for the shower as I stepped over his half-eaten dinner on the way to the living room.

Twenty minutes later, he came in to the living room and leaned over the coffee table in front of the couch I was sitting on, legs spread wide. I sucked on my middle finger before shoving it into his fresh hole. I fingered his hole for a little bit before shoving a second digit in there. He neither complained nor reacted, just like he should. I fingered his faggot ass like a pussy until I had enough of it on my fingers.
“Turn around.”
He turned around and sank to his knees as i shoved my fingers in his mouth to suck on.
“You clean?”
“Yes, Sir,” he mumbled as best as he could with my fingers fucking his throat.
“Now you can worship my cock,” I told him, wiping his saliva on his face.

I watched some Netflix as he sucked my cock and licked my balls and taint. I was hard by the time the episode was over. No foreplay. I wasn’t going to eat his ass. I wasn’t going to massage his hole. I was just gonna fuck.
I bent him over the couch and lined my cock up with his hole. I tried to spit on it but most of it landed on his back. He thanked me for it any way.
I pushed in until I was balls deep. I held it there as he grunted into a pillow, never once saying anything to me. I started to slowly fuck him until I realized that I was going at that pace because I was concerned about his comfort levels.
But tonight was not about him.
It was about me and my needs.
And I needed to fuck him hard.
And so I did.

The more relaxed an Alpha is, the easier it is for us to fall into our rut.
I rutted him for about ten minutes, easily losing myself in the animalistic desires I had not tapped in to for about a week. It was not a gentle rut either. It was a hard pistoning that will make the neighbors call the cops.

I wanted to see how far I could push him, so I pulled out and made him go outside onto the balcony and bend over. The city was completely dark except for the street lights and occasional apartment window. No one was around, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to see us on the top floor from the street. The (relatively) cool air felt good on my sweaty body. I shoved my cock back into him and resumed my rut.
Other than the occasional “Thank you, Sir”, he remained quiet, allowing the sound of my hips thwapping against his ass do all the talking. I closed my eyes to both enjoy the moment as well as not let my fear of heights ruin it.

As I continued to fuck him, I leaned over and asked, “What am I?”
“You’re my fucking King, Sir!” he said as he turned around slightly to look at me.
“What are you?”
“I’m a faggot, Sir.”
“Don’t just tell me,” I challenged him, turning his head back around to face the city.
He paused with brief hesitation before announcing loudly, “I’m A Fucking Faggot!”
From somewhere down the street, we heard someone yell back, “Congrats!”
It was unexpected, but the moment outside was done before we got ourselves into any real trouble.

I pulled him back inside and led him to the bedroom, placing him on his back. He grabbed his ankles and presented his ass for me. I mounted him and began rut number 3.

As I fucked him, I saw the look of awe in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a while. He whimpered and moaned, calling out to me words of worship.
“You’re my king.”
“You’re my muscle god.”
“You’re my ultimate Alpha”
etc.
It was enough to make me cum. Like with dessert, I didn’t hold back when I was close. I bred like I was meant to.
On my terms.
Without any expectations.
I filled his guts with my load and felt the stress and frustration leave my body with each throbbing pulse of my Alpha cock. When I was done, I pulled out and he sucked my cock clean before I showered.

So here I sit, feeling a bliss I hadn’t felt in a while.
Yes, for me, going without that Alpha bliss for 7-10 days is a long time.

The danger of having a live-in faggot when you’re a “developer”-style Alpha is that things can get monotonous easily. It can become routine and mechanical. The purpose of a faggot is to be a cum-dump, true, but what makes them special is that when you develop them enough, they also can be a reminder of your right as an Alpha. When you tune your frequencies, they can be better than therapy.
  
I’m heading to bed feeling recharged and recommend to all Alphas out there that when you’re feeling frustrated, find yourself a faggot who shows you the devotion you deserve, even when life might have momentarily tried to make you forget how fucking awesome you are.

Does fucking a faggot make you feel more alpha than fucking a woman, since they are more worshipful of you?

alphaexploits answered:

Interesting question with a complicated answer.

I don’t feel like an Alpha because I’m fucking a woman or a fag. I feel like an Alpha because that’s just my default state of being. The number of people you fuck doesn’t make you more or less of an Alpha. 

Women and fags provide different things to an Alpha. Personally, fucking women is satisfying on several different levels, where as fucking a fag is more of a physical and sexual release. 

I will say, however, that fags provide amazing “fan service”. I’ve never had a woman look at my on a pure devotional and appreciative level like fags do. Even though it doesn’t make me feel more of an Alpha, it does boost my ego and makes me feel great on a level that women cannot/do not provide. 

It truly is an apples:oranges thing, which is why I have no intention to give up either.

fagsworshipalphas4

What a magnificent answer from the ever-expressive and articulate Sir Titus!

And honestly, he here verifies something I’ve long believed and said about what faggots provide Alphas that women cannot. I have witnessed this so many times from the faggot side of things that I gained some understanding of how Alphas feel about faggot worship.

Frankly, my Master also validates another of my long-standing beliefs about straight Alphas: they don’t suddenly change their stripes once they start fucking faggots. They still very much want to fuck females.

Thank you Master @alphaexploits for your stunning answer!!

This is another entry in the incredible life of Supreme Alpha Sir Titus. For all of his true stories, CLICK HERE to read them in order!

a fag asked me via DM the following:

Curious, Sir… how does it feel to think about Cody serving another alpha in the future?

On the one hand, there’s the natural concern that i have that someone else might break the toy that i spent so long assembling and building up.
But on the other hand, and the one that out weighs the other, is that i know that Cody is a good fag who will make another Alpha happy. I feel like I’ve given him the skills and prepared him enough so that he knows what to look for in the real world. Even though he’s been slutting it up since getting to Texas (and yes, I know you’re reading, fag!), I know he’ll level out and do what is best.

This brings me joy. 

It’s funny you should ask me this, because i was writing about something similar last night in the Sunday journal for CLR which I still need to finish. The core revelation has to do with the effects an alpha and a fag have on each other. 

A fag has a short-term effect on an alpha, making his day-to-day life better. When the fag isn’t around any more, the Alpha moves on to the next opportunity. When he looks back, he remembers.
But an Alpha (when he does his job properly) has a long-term effect on a fag. He changes him (hopefully for the better and not worse). When the Alpha isn’t around, his presence lingers in the heart and mind and soul of the fag. The fag looks back and reminisces.

fagsworshipalphas4

Sir Titus gives a sublime response to this question. My life has been completely transformed by the Alphas I’ve served, some of whom were the best Men I’ve ever known. Everything I’ve learned from these Masters informs this entire enterprise and every dream I have regarding Hierarchy and the Alpha/fag dynamic. 

They inspired me to pass it on and teach others what they taught me. It has been one of the great privileges of my life.

This is another entry in the incredible life of Supreme Alpha Sir Titus. For all of his true stories, CLICK HERE to read them in order!

Here, Sir Titus relates the story of his final three-day weekend with his faggot Cody before Cody moved permanently overseas. It is an extraordinary tale filled with healthy Man sex and overwhelming emotions. I’m preserving here for easy access and posterity.

This was written by Sir Titus, obviously, and I’m reposting it to provide the Alpha perspective.

This is a companion piece to what FWA wrote a few weeks ago. Click here for that full article.

          Since my fag Cody left three weeks ago, I have been cruising Bahrain on Grindr. It’s much like any other place, only with a lot more ladyboys and aggressive escorts. As far as a selection of fags, there seems to be three types.

          The fakers and liars, who think that it’s okay to do whatever it takes just to have the opportunity to spend some time with an Alpha. I’ve had fags catfish using fake photos. I’ve had fags tell me that they want a “daddy”, which here means “sugar daddy”. Last week, I met up with a guy to get sucked off, only to find that he was 50lbs heavier than his pictures and profile portrayed him to be. I try to be body-positive, and am not as particular when it comes to getting sucked off by a fag. Some of the best blowjobs I’ve ever received were by heavyset bears that are not represented in porn as often as they should be. In the end, it’s your mouth I’m primarily concerned with. However, when you lie to me or misrepresent yourself, it makes me question everything else about you. That is an egregious red flag and an immediate deal-breaker.

          The fantasizers are the fags who like to role-play about being with an Alpha, but when it comes time to “put up, or shut up”, they disappear or exhibit behavior that indicates that they have no intention of actualizing this. To them, it’s all a state of play. To me, it’s a fucking waste of time.

          And finally, there are the true faggots. The ones who want nothing in return, other than your pleasure. The ones who turn their complete focus upon you. The ones who treat you the way you are meant to be treated. 

          Here, true faggots are hard to come by. It’s not a good “hunting ground” for an Alpha, and illustrates exactly why something like WRSHIPR is needed.

This leads me to the main topic: What service means to an Alpha. 

          As an Alpha, we are the paradigms. We are the ones who are held to higher standards by both our Alpha brothers, the average man, and by faggots. We are built to lead, breed, and shape the world around us. We are proud, we are powerful, and we shake the ground we walk on. While some may call us gods, we are dissimilar in that we walk the world among you. While being the apex of the hierarchy is our birthright and our responsibility, it is not for free. Because of natural selection’s placement for us in the hierarchy, we demand recognition, respect, and worship.

          As a lifelong Alpha, I can tell you that I am able and willing to do my best when I receive those three displays of appreciation. To know that my greatness, my work, my sense of self are all recognized, inspires me to be better, to be greater. Seeing a “man” subjugate himself to me as a subservient faggot is the perfect validation and fuel that lights our fire. We are the lighthouses that others turn to for guidance and safety. You cut off that fuel, and we have little desire or reason to help lead lost ships to shore; we simply watch them crash and laugh at their aimlessness.

          In a sense, worship is what has the potential to keep us grounded. Without it, what reason should we have in sharing our presence with those from lesser hierarchical strata?

          Treasure Island Media has a porn series called, “Suck Dick, Save The World”. I always found that title humorous, but there is truth in it. When you clean my apartment, you are saying that you want me to have the time to focus on the bigger things. When you worship my body, you are appreciating the work I have put in to my physical care, so that I am healthier to be able to conquer the world. When you take my cock in your mouth, you are saying that you want to show me appreciation in a sexual and selfless way. When you swallow my load or beg for me to breed you, you are telling me that society’s puritanical views on sex are bullshit and reminding me to pleasure myself without fear of pregnancy or added responsibility. 

          In those moments, the hierarchy shines with its truth, as the Alpha is acknowledged and respected in the purest and most honest ways possible. And just like praying to a god, you do it on your knees. 

          And when we are done with you, when your services are no longer required and you are dismissed, leave knowing that you are among the faithful who serve and worship all that is divine on this earth. When you suck my dick, you are saving the world and making it a better place through your worship. You have fulfilled your purpose so that we can go out and fulfill ours.

          That is what service means to an Alpha.

The following was an interesting post from an Alpha-in-training (learning from Sir Titus) named @thealphatanks regarding the importance of an Alpha’s look and wardrobe.

 Since discovering that there is more to me than being just another gay man with a rampant sex drive and primal side in the bedroom, I began addressing how I present myself in public and the intention behind my choices. While being blessed with a pelt that makes a faggot’s pussy moist, In my early 20s, it changed from black to a salt and pepper coat. The change in my fur started a dissonance in my core, and I started to dislike how going grey made me feel, so I made a few cosmetic changes. The one thing that changed the most was my clothing; it allowed me to show myself in the manner I truly wanted.

     My mentor, Alpha Titus, wrote an entry entitled Clothes Maketh The Man. This has been rattling around in my brain as of late, well Sunday, to be exact. In his writing, he associated what we wear, and how it has become sexualized to the classes from Dungeons & Dragons. It was interesting to see that I float between three of these classes each month. The fourth is during my intramural football seasonal; Barbarian, Druid, Monk, and Wizard. Every time I change my clothes, it caused my mindset to change as well.

Here is a brief rundown of my classes and their associated clothing:

• Barbarian – team jersey for when I play intramural football
  
• Druid – jeans, and boots (combat or cowboy), my everyday apparel
  
• Monk – my gym gear; tank top with shorts/leggings
  
• Wizard – my leather and fetish gear
  

     Let’s get back to Sunday; I was preparing for my weekly progress pics with my trainer when I saw something off with my look. Not my posing form, not my bed head, not the face I was making; it was my posing trunks, a small thing to many but to me, it changed how I was presenting myself. My appearance wasn’t that of an amateur bodybuilder but rather a “bro” trying to fake it. I lowered the sides of the waistband from resting on my hips to being flat across my lower abs. This minor change framed my physique differently and produced some great progress pics, this is now my new normal and has inspired a wardrobe switch out.

     For a while now, I have been playing a game called “laundry lotto” as I am putting away my t-shirts and tank tops I do a vertical midline fold inward and stack them. I don’t put my favorite shirt on top but stack them as they come out of the basket. Creating randomness to my look and less I have to worry about when getting dressed in the morning. I still coordinate my dress shirt, jeans, and boots to present an image that is calm yet commanding. There are moments where I missed the days when I knew what I had to wear to work every day; life seemed much simpler then.

     Even with being a Druid during the majority of my day, I still like to fly under the radar, quiet, friendly, and carefree until my other side is required; to coin a phrase, Approαchable AF. A useful tool when you need to interface with other departments of your company. While I have to maintain a certain level of professional appearance, it doesn’t mean that I can’t make myself look sexually attractive during my day.

     When it is time for me to change for the gym, people can tell the “gainzzz” with be plentiful and the pump maximum. I wear a tank top as a statement of body positivity and because I enjoy how I look in them. A few years ago, I was told by a random person at my gym that I was too hairy to wear a tank; ever since that day, they are all I wear. I make adjustments to by bottoms depending on the workout that day, temperature, and most recently to show my progress. I have started carrying two pairs of shoes; Metcons for lifting and New Balance for jogging afterward. The ultimate goal is to feel proud of myself and show how much work I put in every day. The added benefit is catching the attention and sexual desires of potential prey, but this is not that story.

     Getting ready for the few nights a month when I hit the bars, means my leather harness with either Monk or Barbarian gear. These nights are all for sport, knowing that someone in the bar wants me, fuels my night to be more powerful. There are two bars locally I frequent; one is the first bar I went to after ending my 14-year relationship, the other is where my “gear family” lives. I know that regardless of the night or bar, I will laugh, dance, drink, and conquer. 

     Then comes late Summer and early Fall when football season hits, it’s time to become the full Barbarian. I have only missed one season due to college classes, I will not make that mistake again. The hyper-masculine side of me thrives when titans clash on a field of green. In a few seasons I have learned to play both sides of the line, my favorite by far is a defensive tackle. However, an offensive guard is also fun when I stop a more intimidating player in his tracks, being that I am of smaller stature. While no one comes to my games to support me, I’m proud of how I feel when I’m wearing my team colors.

     Ultimately, we all get lost in the daily rut of our lives, not thinking about how we present ourselves while in the wild. Whether Predator or prey, we must endeavor to take pride in who we are and our place in the Hierarchy. Always, take one final look at yourself before leaving home or after visiting the restroom. Asking yourself, “Is this is how I want to present myself to the world-at-large?” 

You never know who is watching!

MY ADDITIONAL COMMENT:

As a faggot, I’ve always been grateful for places like Tumblr because I get a chance to peek into the unfiltered thoughts of Alpha Males. I’ve learned a lot about Alpha mentality through life experience, but Men don’t share so much with the faggot they’re fucking. So this is always nice.

The one thing I’ve always emphasized about Men – they are much deeper than they appear on the surface. Alphas especially. So much of the world revolves around and flows through Men and their activities, and this constant bombardment is kept in check by a stern, placid facade. But beneath that are complicated ruminations on a wide variety of concerns.

Like clothes.

Ten years ago, I would’ve said that my Alpha didn’t care one bit about his clothes (I still might be inclined to say that). But listen to these powerful Men speak here in this safe space. It’s beautiful and revelatory, to me.

This thread follows the rise of 39-year-old straight divorced Alpha Greg as he discovers the world of faggot worship and ownership. CLICK HERE for all of the relevant posts in chronological order!

If I have two overriding ambitions surrounding this site, they are:

1. Push the truth about Male Hierarchy into the mainstream.

2. Help straight Alphas discover the truth about owning and using faggots.

Fortunately for me, my second ambition is helped tremendously by the efforts of great established Alphas with long track records of training straight Alphas to accept faggot worship.

Which brings me to a straight Alpha named Greg. He’s a 39-year-old straight and divorced Alpha living in Guam. Back in 2001, Alpha Greg came into contact with Alpha Tank, the bodybuilding Alpha I have featured here multiple times. Incidentally, Alpha Greg is a third generation removed from Sir Titus, the Apex Alpha who trained Alpha Tank.

Just so we’re keeping it all straight in the galaxy of Alphas here at FWA!

Anyway, here’s how Alpha Tank began to condition Alpha Greg on the use of faggots:

Oh yeah, I got divorced a few years back and trying to find women where I’m located has been a struggle. He (Alpha Tank) asked me if I had ever thought of letting a ‘very submissive” gay man keep my nuts drained in the interim. That was just how he opened the door for discussion.

Then Alpha Greg came across me here at FWA.

We’ve had many conversations since and I even told him I found your site. He laughed and said I should have mentioned that earlier, it would have saved time. Ha

Very cute! (Wink)

That was when he came clean about being an Alpha and using his own faggots. I have always been a Dom and naturally attract submissive people to me, but I never correlated the two.

So with Alpha Tank working on his straight friend, it was only a matter of time before Alpha Greg started using faggots.

Now that ‘Rona has lessened here, (a younger faggot named Micah) approached me during a gym session. “Sir, can I bother you for a spot.” I didn’t think twice and went to spot him.

During his lift, he never took his eyes off my bulge. I was told that faggots would do that, but thought it was embellishing.

After he finished bench pressing he asked if he could workout with me. I finished working out and went to the locker room, the fag followed me to my locker. He asked me if I needed help relaxing after my workout, before looking down to the floor.

And notice this training at work:

My friend told me about looking away as a sign of a faggot.

BOOM!

I asked what he had in mind. I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking but I wasn’t prepared for his response. He looked around real quick then dropped to his knees. Bending over he kissed my shoe and said anything I could think of.

I was shocked but my dick knew the truth. Haha! We left the gym and headed back to my place. On the drive I messaged my friend and he told me congrats.

Once at my apartment, the fag was automatically on his knees. I started to remove my shoes when he begged me to let him do that. I said sure, to which the faggot crawled over and removed my shoes then my socks. I messaged my friend again, he told me to relax and let the fag fulfill its purpose. He kept calling the faggot it, which confused me.

My friend told me to try a trick he learned – step away and come back in just a towel over my crotch and let the faggot worship my body. I didn’t go that far but I did come back in my underwear. The fag gasped then sighed when I walked back in the room. I kind of chuckled a little.

I sat down on my couch and let the fag massage my legs while it sat between my legs. The massage slowly creeped up my legs, the entire time the faggot was still looking at my crotch. I had that post workout hard-on and needed to cum, I was rubbing my dick and the fag just licked his lips. Before asking if it could help me out with my hard on.

The faggot sucked my dick better than any woman had in the past. It wasn’t like a chore how my ex wife made it. The faggot actually enjoyed what he was doing. He sucked my load out which was much needed. He just kept nursing on my dick even after swallowing my load. At some point I dozed off slightly. When I woke up it was still there and I was hard again.

Another straight Alpha’s eyes opened to the use and ownership of faggots!

This is where I personally entered the story (rather than just my writing). Alpha Greg had been receiving daily blowjobs from his new faggot Micah and loving it. But now Alpha Greg was thinking about taking the faggot’s ass as well.

Well, I took that ball and ran it into the endzone!

I really started encouraging Alpha Greg that Micah’s pussy belongs to him and that he should claim it.

Yesterday Alpha Greg was at work and texting me about his upcoming lunchtime blowjob from his faggot when I pushed the idea again. We started talking about the size difference between the two of them (Alpha Greg is several inches taller) and how much faggots get turned on by much larger Alphas like him.

And just like that, Alpha Greg told his faggot to be ready to get fucked during his lunch break!

So then this happened:

Holy shit faggot! That faggot earned every thrust and shot of my cum!

When I got to my apartment, the faggot was kneeling outside of my door. I unlocked the door and walked in with the faggot right behind me. As the door closed, he was kissing my boots.

I moved to the couch, the faggot crawling to get between my legs. It removed my pants and boxers before beginning to suck my cock. Once I was hard, I had the faggot remove my clothes and its clothes. We moved to the bedroom where I rimmed and fingered the faggot’s pussy for a while. The faggot sucked me hard again before slathering lube on my cock and fingering some into its pussy.

The faggot was bent over with its chest on the bed. I lined up my cock and began to push it in slowly, the faggot was screaming into the pillow. Halfway in I stopped, the faggot said “Please Sir, keep going I will take it all.”

I pushed my cock in harder until I was buried in the faggot’s pussy. It was so wet, warm, and right but without constriction. I didn’t move until the faggot started fucking itself onto me.

I grabbed its hips and something came over me, I started fucking hard and fast while the faggot moaned through tears.

Right before I started to cum, I felt a sudden suction in the faggot’s hole and its legs suddenly started shaking. I couldn’t hold it back anymore and I shot the biggest load in a very long time.

It just laid there shaking for a while before resuming sucking my cock.

Another faggot pussy claimed by the power and might of straight Alpha cock!

Alpha Greg’s head was spinning afterward, thoroughly impressed by a fuck that will forever change the course of the rest of his life. I call this moment “ascension,” where a straight Alpha comes fully into his Alphahood by embracing worship in all forms.

Alpha Greg tasted that moment of ascension, and I think he liked it:

I will be using that faggot pussy again.

Since his faggot is uncaged, Alpha Greg intends to put it into chastity and officially own it.

Now I have a faggot.

Welcome to Godhood, Master Greg! A brand new Kingdom awaits your reign!