This post is part of a thread following a faggot in California named Danny who slowly discovered his faghood and has begun serving a straight Alpha. CLICK HERE to read all of the posts in this thread in chronological order!

I really wish more people appreciated the great courage of true faggots who make themselves available for service (even at great risk to themselves) and then do whatever it takes to deeply submit to their Alphas. Nothing about being a faggot is easy. From the search, to the submission, to the day-to-day requirements of service … Everything is surrendered to fulfill this compulsion baked into the DNA of every faggot.

Unlike many stupid Alphas who call faggots “worthless” or “stupid”, I instead celebrate my faggot brothers who bravely follow their hearts and debase themselves completely for the sake of serving a Man. I have found great fulfillment in my life from doing that, and these other outstanding faggots are discovering the same thing.

One such example to be celebrated is a 27-year-old faggot from California named Danny. He has come a long way over those years, suffering some trauma, while coming to accept his undeniable faghood. He was kind enough to share his incredible story of finally finding a true straight Alpha to serve.

I’ve been following your site for a while, and wanted to share with you my journey to becoming a fag.

I’ve always been socially submissive, and I’ve always known that I have a thing for dominant, confident men. I grew up in Dublin, Ireland, and as a kid I always hung out with older, rougher boys. I wanted to impress them. At the time I thought that I wanted to be like them, though looking back I think even then I knew that I wanted something different to that.

I’ve never wanted a boyfriend and until fairly recently have lived as a straight man. But since high school I’ve looked at guys and wondered what it would be like to be with them. And I’ve often found myself deferring to guys that I admire.

It wasn’t until I was at college that anything happened sexually with guys. I had three roommates, and we had only been living together for a few weeks. We barely knew each other really. One evening we got high, we talked about sex, we watched porn, one thing led to another, and it ended up become intensely sexual. It’s hard to say who actually led it. It was as if it was in the air, and it was inevitable. I think one of the guys was gay, and he was pushing for it to happen, but I was entirely willing. I allowed myself to be talked into it. It was a rush. It felt taboo but it felt safe. The other guys were constantly asserting their heterosexuality, and the whole thing felt like it wasn’t really that big of a deal. But I was acutely aware that I was the one who was being the most submissive. And as things progressed I was performing oral, while the other gradually just watched. I ended up giving head to the three of them.

After, things seemed different between us all. We acted as though everything was the same, but they treated me differently, kept their distance. We never spoke about it. But several weeks later it happened again, and then again. Each time was the same. I gave head. I swallowed. And after, we pretended like nothing had happened. I think a couple of them were a little freaked out by it, and to the end of the semester we decided, for different reasons, to live with other people. I was partly relieved, partly disappointed. 

I thought about it a lot, and I went into chat rooms, and had phone sex with guys, but for the next couple of years at college I didn’t do anything else in person. In my junior year, though, I felt I really needed to do something with a guy or I would go crazy. I met a couple of guys through apps, though the sex didn’t really satisfy me. I wanted more, or different, I just didn’t know what. In my senior year I ended up going to an adult store. I’m not sure why I did it, or how long I’d been thinking about doing it. My plan was that my first time I’d just watch people come and go, see how things worked. But I ended up sucking dick through a glory hole. When I was done, I saw the guy hurry away. I liked how seedy it was, how dirty it made me feel, but also how good it felt to give guys what they needed. I became a regular there. I still had a girlfriend at the time, and was still deeply ashamed and didn’t really understand what it was that I needed, or wanted. But it felt like it filled a need in me, and it was mostly anonymous.

Then, one night, I was followed out of the store, and I was raped in the parking lot.

It was the first time I’d been fucked by a man. He was older, maybe in his 40s, and I was 21 at the time. He was bigger than me, but I could have put up more of a fight. I was an athlete and was in shape, but I just sort of let it happen. Looking back, I think I knew it would happen eventually. I must have wanted it. As he was fucking me, he kept telling me that he’d been watching me, that I’d sucked him before, and swallowed him, that I was a faggot and a whore, that he knew what I was for. He kept telling me that he knew I wanted it.The guy had a friend there who didn’t get involved, just watched and, I guess, kept a look out. Through most of it I kept looking at him, and I remember wondering what he thought of me, and imagining what he was seeing. A college fag getting raped by a bigger guy. I remember the guy cumming in me. He tensed up, grunted, and pumped into me. I was shocked by it. I had a profound sense that something had changed in me. After it was over I kept replaying the moment in my head that he came, and thought ‘a guy came in me, a guy came in me…’

When he left I got into my car and sat there for what seemed like hours. I was shaking. I went home, and my girlfriend had dropped by, which she sometimes did. I said I’d been at work and she had no reason to think I was lying. I tried to keep it together. I went and had a shower, and I started to jerk off thinking about what had just happened. I felt ashamed, I felt confused, but mostly I felt that I had to keep it to myself. Me and my girlfriend had sex that night. I was mostly thinking about the guy who had been watching.

I stopped going to the adult store, but I kept thinking about the assault pretty much every time I jerked off. I eventually told someone online – a guy I spoke to regularly in a chat room – and it was the first conversation I had with someone who recognized that, maybe I was a faggot, that I had wanted it, that I had enjoyed it, that I had invited it, and that maybe I needed to serve an alpha. He explained that I was in denial about what I was, but that I was unconsciously putting myself in situations where I might get used, and that I was starting to wake up to who I am.

So I started looking for alphas to use me. Over the next months, I met with many dominant guys who used me, though I didn’t really serve anyone as a faggot. One that I met with took me a couple of times to a fuck club. The first time I mostly watched, though we went into a dark room where he watched me suck cock at a line of glory holes. The next time we went he expected more of a show from me, and invited men to fuck me. I was new meat, just barely out of college and so I got a lot of attention. It was exhausting and overwhelming, but I did everything I was expected to do. It confirmed to me that I was made to be used, but it was purely physical – and it didn’t completely satisfy me. It didn’t hit the spot that I needed to be hit.

Then Master Matthew happened.

He had moved into an apartment right across the street from me. He seemed a bit bookish, and nerdy, was around my age (I was 25 at this point), but he was taller than me, and was obviously in remarkably good shape. I saw him around several times, running, on his bike, at the grocery store, and I was drawn to him immediately. I felt excited whenever I saw him around, and I started trying to work out his schedule so that we might pass in the street. I became a little obsessed. I watched his apartment for signs of when he was home, when he might be alone. I tried to work out what his life was. I imagined going to him and offering myself to him.

He had a girlfriend, and a pretty eclectic mix of friends. Some jock types, some nerd types, mostly straight, some gay. He had surf friends, and would surf often in the morning. I noticed that he would usually leave his wetsuit over a rail by his apartment to dry. One night while it was still out there I decided to go smell it. I got on my knees and licked the crotch, inside and out. I imagined that the salty taste was his cum. I got a rush on the idea of being caught.

I thought about him all the time.

My online friend suggested that I leave a note, offering myself to him. So I did. I didn’t identify myself, but said that I was a young straight guy (I was still telling myself that), that I lived close and that I had seen him around. I said that I had experience from my college days of regularly giving head to my roommates. I said that if he wanted a no-strings arrangement, that I would be more that willing to do that for him, no reciprocation necessary. I guess I was trying to sound more like a regular bro and less like a faggot, so as not to put him off. I left a number on the note.

I slipped the note in his mailbox. And waited. 

Several days later, I got a text asking ‘who is this?’

I knew it was him. I felt sick, I felt excited. I was terrified I would fuck it up! I said I lived close to him. I told him I was serious. Asked if there was anything he wanted to know. He was very careful not to show any signs of acknowledging having interest, and had a tone that he didn’t quite believe what I was telling him, and thought it was a prank. But he didn’t shut me down, and kept leaving openings for me to carry on talking. We texted back and forth for a couple of hours. Eventually, though, he stopped responding.
Then a few days later, he asked again ‘so, who are you?’ He wanted to know specifically. I said I was nervous to tell him. But he insisted, so I told him my name and everything he needed to be able to identify me. He asked for a picture. I thought, fuck it. So I sent one. There was a long silence. I was dying. Then he texted that he’d seen me around. He asked where I lived. I said I lived literally across the street from him. Then, silence again.

Almost a week later, he texted again. He asked where I was. I was in a bar with a couple of friends. He said he wanted to know if it was really me, and not someone pretending. He wanted me to take a picture of myself in the bar. It was tricky with my friends being there, but I did it. Then he said he wanted to see me in the street outside his apartment. My heart stopped. He wasn’t saying that something might happen, but it felt like that’s what he meant. I said I would get an uber and be there in 20 minutes. He didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if that was too long for him. I made my excuses and left my friends. I was standing outside his apartment about 15 minutes later. I texted him to say I was outside. There was the longest pause, and I thought maybe I’d blown it. Then he texted and told me to come to the door.

It was kind of late, and I’d had a few drinks. I was doing my best to be present and act sober. He let me in. I could smell weed. I was so fucking nervous, and I think he was too. He was in sweats and a tshirt. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but I was trying to act normal. He asked if I wanted a beer, I said no, yes, no, sure, are you having one? Sure. We made some polite chit chat. He asked how long I’d lived in the area, what I did for work. General stuff. I was trying not to just drop to my knees and beg for his cock.
Then he took out the note that I had left for him. He still had it, folded up. He asked if it was for real. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but I said it was. He handed me the note and told me to read it out loud. It was excruciating, saying it all, but I did it. It sounded so dumb saying it again. But I was rock hard. He asked how it started with my roommates, so I told him the bare bones of what had happened. He asked if I liked sucking cock. I said I did. It was such a fucking rush, telling this guy who knew who I was that I liked doing it. He asked questions, were those guys gay, how many times did I do it, did we kiss, did anyone else know about it, did I swallow. I answered.

Then he asked me if I had sucked for other guys. I decided to be honest, and I ended up telling him about going to the adult store to suck dicks. I was scared that would put him off me, but I wanted him to see me for who and what I was.  He didn’t seem to care. He asked if I had a girlfriend, I said I did. He asked how many dicks I had sucked. I said I wasn’t sure. He laughed. He asked if my gf had any idea about me. I said I hoped not.

Then there was a long pause. We were both a bit embarrassed. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to make the first move. So I asked if he wanted me to suck him. He asked if I wanted to. I said yes. He asked me how much I wanted it, and I said very much. He told me to ask him if I could. So I did. Then he told me to get on my knees, and ask again. So I did. I got on my knees and asked him if I could suck his dick. He nodded and said ‘ok’.

He was wearing sweats, and he got me to pull them down. His cock is perfect. I gasped when I saw it. Thick, cut, and bigger than me. He wasn’t hard, but he was on the way. I kissed it. Felt the heat of it on my face. He told me to look up at him. So I did, and stared into his eyes as I took him in my mouth and made him hard. It felt so right. Like coming home. The smell, the taste of a man, the feel of a firm cock in my mouth.

He said nothing. He just let me suck. As he got close to cumming, he held me on him and he fucked my mouth some. And then he came. He came a lot and he came hard. I swallowed. I tasted like heaven.
Then he was like, okay, cool, you should go. So I left.

The following day it happened again. He texted, I went to his apartment, we talked a little, he got me to ask to suck him, he let me, and I swallowed for him.

The following week we met several times.

I decided to be bolder. 

I texted him and told him that I was prepared to do literally anything for him. I sent him some links to things about fags and alphas, mostly your posts. He went quiet for a few days and didn’t respond to any of that stuff. Then a couple of weeks later he texted out of the blue and told me to come over. It was the same deal, me giving him head. He was on the couch, I was kneeling, sucking him. And then he said ‘you like that, faggot?’ I nodded. I carried on.

The next time I went over, he had me clean his apartment.

Over the next few weeks he started testing me, to see what I would do. How far I would go. He made me do errands. One night he sent me to pick up food for him and some friends he had over. I delivered it to his door and he acted like he didn’t know me. I went home and jerked off.

One night I was over, he asked me if I had been fucked. We actually hadn’t discussed it before. And he wanted me to tell him about my first time. so I told him about the rape. He’s the only person I’ve ever actually talked to about it. He seemed interested, he asked questions. He asked specifically what the guy had said to me, what he’d called me. It was difficult recounting it all, but he pressed me to tell him everything about it, and he waited until I had. Then he wanted me to tell him about other experiences, so I told him about the fuck clubs.

I was a bit shaken up by telling him everything. I felt pretty raw. He said ‘You want cock in you?’ I said yes. He told me to ask for it, so I asked for it. He said no. 

About two weeks later was the first time he fucked me. When we did it, I was on the floor on my hands and knees. I was naked. He was kneeling behind me, mostly clothed. At first he was quiet. Then he said ‘you like that, faggot?’ That phrase is like his way in, I think. I said I did. He said I was a faggot. I agreed. He told me to say it. I said ‘I’m a faggot’. He told me to call him sir. I did. Then he was saying other things. I didn’t realize at first, but he was repeating the things that had been said to me when I was raped. ‘You’re a whore’ ‘This is what you’re for, faggot’ It was only when he said ‘I’ve been watching you’ that I realized what he was doing. I couldn’t help it, I just said ‘oh my god’, and I started to cry. I tried not to let him see, but he realized. ‘You crying faggot?’ ‘You liked being raped, didn’t you, that’s why you were there’


‘Yes what, faggot?’

‘Yes sir’

He came in me. He cums hard. When he cums in my mouth, I really feel the power of it. But when he came in my ass I was convinced I could feel it hitting my insides. I felt his cock pulse with each shot, too.
He pulled out. ‘Jesus’. He looked at me with what seemed like surprise and disgust. Like he was seeing what I was and really understanding it. ‘Fuck’. I moved to get up, he told me to stay where I was. He went to take a piss. I was still on all fours. He came back and stared at me. He laughed to himself. ‘Faggot’. He leaned down to look me in the face ‘Fucking faggot’. ‘Yes sir’ He laughed. ‘Kiss my feet’. I kissed his feet.

‘You’re nothing’.

He fucked me most of the times we met from then. The friendliness we’d had at the start faded away as he became more of an alpha with me, and he realized his power over me. I was in heaven. It was everything I had ever wanted. He ridiculed me, taunted me. He respected my time, and understood that I had a job (and a girlfriend still, for a while, though I eventually ended that). But when I was with him, I was his object. A fucktoy and a servant.

And then the pandemic happened.

For the first few weeks of the lockdown I could see he was home. But we already had an arrangement where it wasn’t my place to contact him. Eventually I did, to ask if he was okay and if he needed me to do anything. He simply said he was fine. So I waited. A few weeks in, I realized he was no longer at the apartment. I was worried he had moved. But his stuff was still there, so I guessed that he had moved in with his gf, or with his family, until the pandemic was over.

One night, around Thanksgiving, he texted me, telling me to beg for his cock. To beg to be fucked. So I did. I texted for an hour, over and over, stream of consciousness stuff, telling him he was a god, and I was nothing and that I wanted to please him and needed his manhood inside me. I thought that maybe he was going to tell me where he was and invite me over.

He eventually texted back ‘no’.

When vaccinations started, he moved back. And I waited. Eventually I got a text telling me to come over. He had me clean the place, go get groceries. He made me beg for his cock, but he didn’t touch me. He sent me home.

A few days ago he fucked me again for the first time since the pandemic started. He is, if anything, more alpha than before. He dominated me completely physically. Called me names. Made me call myself names. He had me stay naked in his apartment all day, and used me several times. He likes to get a little rough, not violent exactly. And he likes to pull me into the positions that he wants me to be in. One of the fucks was in his bedroom, which we don’t usually go into, but he wanted to fuck me in front of the mirror, so I could watch myself being used.

‘This is what you are, faggot. This is what you’re for’

‘Yes sir’

‘You’re mine’

‘Yes sir’

It’s true. It’s so fucking true.

I consider this documented experience to be The Blueprint, the exact way to come to a point of acceptance and then successfully offer oneself to the will of an Alpha. There are so many things right about what my dear brother Danny did along the way that it’s virtually impossible to comprehensively list all of the them. Here are some of my initial thoughts:

  1. Danny’s rape didn’t destroy him, but instead informed him. He used the experience to examine his own needs and then internalized it. Like my rape did with me, Danny used his rape to help him come to understand his own submissiveness.
  2. He experimented with various ways to satisfy his growing need to serve.
  3. He chose to find an Alpha to serve, found an Alpha, and despite the signs that he might not have success (like Master Matthew having a girlfriend) he took action and submitted anyway!
  4. When Master Matthew challenged him, Danny didn’t shrink back or lie. Instead, he humbly trusted that honesty and bravery would be safe with his new Master. He was right!

I cannot even come close to describing my pride. Danny is an absolute inspiration, and his Master Matthew is clearly an extraordinary straight Alpha of unstoppable and rapidly-growing power.

But it’s important to emphasize this important point: Danny’s case is not some unique and magical experience that happens once in a generation. This site is filled with experiences from faggots who followed the same pattern that Danny perfectly demonstrated here. It simply requires submissiveness, humility, persistence, and courage.

I certainly hope that Danny will continue to share the developments between him and his incredible Master! What an inspiration!