One of the more extraordinary conversations I’ve had recently with an Alpha was a lengthy, multi-day interrogation I enjoyed with legendary Tumblr presence @bowatmyfeet. Those are his muscular legs and perfect, socked feet in the picture above. Yes, I know, my brothers – they’re perfect.

Alpha Mike is the genius behind @bowatmyfeet, one of my favorite Alpha blogs. He’s an early-thirties white Male who has spent his entire life living as a self-aware Alpha. He claims to have memories off dominating other kids when he was six years old. By the time he reached 15 years old, he was already fucking females while simultaneously daydreaming about pinning boys down in the locker room and fucking them, too. Eventually, at age 18, he fucked his first male. This has led to a largely bisexual life, although he’s currently in a mostly-exclusive two-year relationship with a bottom male. 

As the picture above indicates, he’s a well-proportioned Alpha (aren’t they all?) who is, in his words, “country strong.” In other words, he’s built like a Bull, and has the sex drive of one as well.

Over his life Alpha Mike has pushed the boundaries of dominant behavior, demonstrating clearly that Alphas are BORN to dominate, not made that way. This is clearly evidenced in his account of the first fag he enslaved. I cannot match his words here, so I will let him tell the incredible story:

One of the things that really shaped my fascination with dominating others and degrading them was professional wrestling. There are plenty of storylines within pro wrestling that deal with humiliating your enemy.

Specifically, there was a “Kiss My Foot” match where the loser had to kiss the winner’s sweaty feet right after the match. I was fascinated by this and thought how cool it was to make someone literally bow to you and kiss the lowest part of your body. Nothing was lower and more degrading than that. I NEEDED to do that to someone. How great would it be to make one of my friends (or enemies) kiss my feet and pretty much admit my superiority over them? This has to happen.

So, a kid at my school who lived a few streets down was also into wrestling, but that’s about all that we had in common. In general, I didn’t like him. He was a goody two-shoes, very nerdy. Not funny, not interesting, not athletic, but his parents bought him the pay per views every month. So every four weeks he became my best friend for a day. Well, we both were familiar with the Kiss My Foot match so I proposed that we play a wrestling video game I had and the loser had to kiss the winner’s foot. He accepted and I beat him handedly. It wasn’t even close. Now, in general I was better at the game than he was, but usually the matches were close. 

After it was over, he protested that he wasn’t going to kiss my foot and we were just kidding around. We were sitting on the floor playing the game. I stood up and stared down on him. He looked scared. I loved it. I knew he was going to kiss my feet. I told him he made the bet and if he didn’t “pay up”, then that would make him a liar and I couldn’t be friends with a liar. He didn’t have many friends and being the “good boy” that he was, he didn’t want to be called a liar. He knelt down and kissed my feet. When that happened, I knew I was “above” him. It was such an incredible and powerful sensation. I immediately lost what little respect I had for him and was now hooked.

I thought I would have to goad him into playing for those stakes again, but HE actually suggested it when I saw him again for the next pay per view. I was blown away. I won, and the disparity was actually getting larger. I realized he wanted to lose. I realized he wanted to kiss my feet. I couldn’t imagine why, but I did know that I loved the power trip I got out of it, and he clearly wants to do it, so he must love whatever feeling he was getting from having to do it. Shortly after that he was kissing my feet on demand, without the pretense of a wager. Then, after I saw Pulp Fiction with the famous “foot massage” conversation, he was rubbing my feet constantly, too. This was all pre-puberty, I was maybe 9 or 10. I didn’t get a sexual rush out of it, but I loved it and I also realized people loved submitting to it. It wasn’t until later that I realized that was my first fag. I was dominating fags before I even knew what fags were! Haha.

Isn’t that a fucking incredible story??? This experience really underlines why Alphas (and Men in general) love having faggots and females kiss and rub their feet – because it accentuates the Man’s power.

Since embracing the use of faggots in his life, he has owned 12 faggots for varying lengths of time. The longest he kept a faggot under his control was a two-year arrangement with a faggot during college. Not only did he use the faggot sexually, but he also had the faggot take care of homework and for domestic duties like cleaning (heaven!). Alpha Mike took care to make sure I understood that his current boyfriend is NOT a faggot, but we all know who rules the house.

Like many true Alphas, Alpha Mike uses faggots as a form of stress relief. That goes beyond sex, into other areas like spanking, belting, punching, and slapping. He enjoys degrading faggots, testing their limits and seeing what he can make them do.

When pressed, Alpha Mike shared a stunning example of this kind of boundary-pushing. Again, his words are best in describing the situation:

I had a faggot who was in love with my ass. Couldn’t stop complimenting it and staring at it. Of course, being the predator that I am, I had to use this bait to humiliate my prey. Whenever I would shit at his house, I made him wipe my ass. he couldn’t worship it, but he had to clean it. I love having my ass worshiped, too, but I loved denying him even more. I would tease him with it too. I’d say “ better wipe it really good, bitch! I might let you lick it once you’re done.” I never did of course, but it made him work harder. To have another human being literally cleaning the shit off of my ass as I completely ignore it, oh man that made me so hard.  (and scat is definitely not my thing).

I mean, isn’t that incredible? As a faggot, I cannot even conceive of doing that to another person, yet not only did Alpha Mike do it, but it made him hard, too! 

The experiences of Alpha Mike really demonstrate the almost-genetic origins of Alphahood. Simply put, he was born to rule. He was born to be worshiped and served like a god. He had no other choice. 

Fortunately, he pursued his destiny as an Alpha with intensity, along the way helping many faggots realize their own purpose in the process. Thankfully Alpha Mike is a very articulate and generous Alpha, freely dispensing his wisdom and knowledge to those seeking it. Definitely follow him on Tumblr and respectfully approach his throne – you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the great Man behind the name @bowatmyfeet. 

Thank you Sir for allowing me to interview you! 

I went to a college located about 45 minutes from my family home, so I spent much of my college career driving back and forth for classes in between shifts at work. Fortunately I carpooled with two girls, one of whom I knew from work. During the second semester I met Mike, a strapping, muscular friend of one of my carpool gal pals.

The following year Mike (who was a year younger) started his studies at the same university. I would occasionally see him on campus and we’d have decent conversations. Later Mike would tell me that he knew immediately that I was a faggot, but at the time I felt like I was expertly hiding my flirty nature. Occasionally Mike would bum a ride with us, and I would fight the overwhelming urge to stare at his thick, bulging leg muscles (he always wore shorts).

I finished my fifth semester (the middle of the third year) with the worst grades imaginable, the result of partying and other distractions. In addition, the fighting with my father was reaching a fever pitch. In response, I decided to take nearly a year off of college and work full time. Quickly I saved enough money to move out and get my own apartment. Not long after that, I was raped.

Even though I didn’t really have my head together, I returned to college the following winter. By then my carpool girls had different schedules and I was alone on the highway much of the time. But Mike would occasionally call for a ride, and I gladly accepted the company.

It was difficult keeping my eyes on the road with Mike next to me. He was almost a prototypical muscle jock, and dressed like one, too: bright-colored athletic shorts, tank tops, roughly-used sneakers. Mike had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, pale pools swirling around focused pupils. He had a wonderful laugh.

Mike also had a fat dick he would constantly grope and adjust in the seat next to me. He caught me several times watching the show, and that’s when things got complicated.

“You can’t stop looking at my big dick, can you?” blurted Mike one morning.

I couldn’t really respond. “It’s okay, I figured you were a fag,” Mike said nonchalantly. I couldn’t deny it at this point.

There was a heavy silence. Mike sensed my terror. “Don’t worry about it,” said Mike, grabbing his dick, “I like to be watched.” Then that terrific laugh of his. I felt like I could’ve passed out right there.

The following week Mike told me to come over to his house so he could fix a blown speaker in my car. Afterwards I found myself sitting on his bed in his room when, out of nowhere, Mike said, “So, you owe me for the speaker.”

Mind you, Mike hadn’t paid a dime in gas money for all of those rides to school. I was indignant, and almost began to protest when Mike strolled casually over to me, straddled my legs, and pulled his cock out.

I looked up. Mike was smiling. Then he grabbed my head and forced it down on his thick cock. And that was the beginning of my service to Mike during college.

Mike didn’t use me all the time; he had a beautiful blonde girlfriend he had been dating for a year. Mike cheated on her mercilessly; I had to hear tales of Mike’s secret conquests on our infrequent commutes. Now I was another, even more secretive conquest. He told me I sucked his dick better than girls, which is why he kept coming back to throat-fuck me after the odd ride home from school.

As luck would have it, Mike and I had very similar schedules for my final semester. I serviced Mike much more often that final semester, often in peculiar places. Mike would have me pull over behind a random dumpster, or cram his dick down my throat on the campus parking lot. He loved the thrill of public sex (and how I developed my love of it).

But my college career was coming to an end, and Mike was getting more serious with his girlfriend. My anxiety grew knowing that we were nearing the end of our relationship.

Then Mike ended it in the most traumatic way imaginable.

After I graduated, Mike called me one night to chat a bit before asking me if I wanted to come over. I jumped at the chance and raced to his house. Nobody was home, and Mike greeted me at the door shirtless and wearing only his omnipresent shorts. So of course I immediately dropped to my knees.

“No fag, get up,” Mike muttered, pulling me to my feet.

I was confused. “Don’t you want me to suck your cock?” I asked.

“No,” Mike said sternly, leading me into the bedroom. “Chelsea (his girlfriend) is on her way over here … and I want you to hide in this closet and watch us fuck.”

I was speechless and somewhat offended. “But … why?” I stammered.

“Because it’s time you saw what a real Man is supposed to do,” he replied, roughly shoving me in the closet. “Stay in here and keep quiet,” Mike hissed, closing the door just enough to keep the bed visible through the crack.

I panted inside that dark closet for what seemed like a lifetime. I was terrified. Eventually I heard Chelsea come through the front door and they were giggling in the other room. Then they entered the bedroom, and I could see Chelsea was wearing her work uniform. Mike lightly tossed Chelsea on the bed, eliciting a yelp out of her. Quickly Mike was on top of her, stripping her naked and pulling down his shorts.

I could see Mike grab his fat dick and position it near her pussy. Then he entered her, and she sighed in relief. Mike gyrated on top of her slowly at first, Chelsea’s legs swaying carelessly over his firm ass cheeks. They kissed loudly, passionately. Mike looked incredibly sexy fucking her.

Soon Mike was pounding her pussy like a piston, lifting his upper body off of her for maximum penetration. From my angle, I could see Mike’s wide, hefty dick splitting her pussy lips apart, those heavy balls I loved so much bouncing on her asshole.

Mike was grunting loudly now, deeper and more intensely than he ever had with me. My heart was racing as jealousy swept over me, and I involuntarily began to cry. It wasn’t about being in love with Mike, but rather the humiliation and shame I felt in that moment. I was being forced to watch this gorgeous Alpha do what he was born to do – mate and breed his woman. I was just an extra hole. This was his true purpose.

Finally Mike groaned loudly and came inside of her with several short, powerful thrusts. Chelsea was pissed – she expected him to pull out – but I think Mike did that for me.

Chelsea went to the bathroom to clean up. Mike leaned back on his bed in a triumphant display. He never looked over at me once.

After Chelsea finished, she was irritated and rushed out of the house in one of her typical mood swings. They weren’t fighting – she apparently didn’t have enough time for that – but you could tell she was annoyed. I remained in the closet the entire time, breathless and terrified.

Finally Mike returned to the closet. He was still naked. He opened the closet to see me backed into it, tears streaming down my face.

I expected him to give a fuck. Instead, Mike glared at me angrily. “Clean it off, faggot,” he growled. I looked at him for a long moment; I wanted to run out of the house. Instead, I dropped to my knees and sucked his cock. It never got hard. I licked Chelsea’s pussy juice and the remainder of his cum off of his cock.

Mike pushed me away. He looked down at me, tears drying on my face. “Hope you learned something tonight,” he said coldly.

He backed away, my signal to leave. I nodded and left silently.

Mike never called me again. Yes, I would say I learned something that night.