Until now, I pretty much had Master Dylan pegged as something of a Destroyer Alpha. He has a sadistic streak, he ruts mercilessly, and pretty much seemed to view faggots as things.
But events can occur to reveal the real heart of an Alpha.
The situation with Master Dylan’s faggots had pretty much stabilized into something resembling a routine. Fags Cody and Ethan had developed a nice rhythm as new roommates in the apartment arranged near Master Dylan’s house. Master Dylan was enjoying the close proximity of pussy, embarking on monumental breeding sessions like the 14-load marathon I chronicled recently. And the third faggot, a 17-year-old affectionately nicknamed “Pinky,” was still living at home with his family and getting bred when he could in between high school classes and homework/chores.
I said he WAS living with his family, as in past tense. Because sadly Pinky’s parents found out their son was gay and getting fucked by a Man, and that didn’t set well their Bible-trained consciences.
So they did what Jesus would do – they threw him out of the house.
Their rationale for this heartless move was their desire to protect Pinky’s younger brother from Pinky’s Satanic influence. Regardless, Pinky – a kid with no money and nowhere to do – was contemplating living in a car to survive (which is better than what many rejected LGBTQ face).
But Master Dylan found out about this injustice, and immediately demanded that Pinky stay in the apartment with his two fag brothers. Once more, Cody took the lead in helping settle Pinky into his new digs and feel comfortable there.
The bills in the apartment are covered by Master Dylan, Cody, and Ethan. Pinky handles the cleaning in the place. And, in another brilliant move, Master Dylan withholds loads from Pinky until the faggot can prove he’s done his homework. Alpha control at its best!
Once more, phony Christian values have been supplanted by natural law! Hierarchy is the only true religion!
This morning I received a message (read that here) from a young bottom that really annoyed me. After letting it stew for a while, I decided that something needed to be said about growing older in the gay lifestyle, and, in particular, growing older as a fag.
To do so, I’ll need to use two short stories. Please indulge me just this once (wink).
Many years ago I met an Alpha named Christian. I haven’t spoken about Christian here (at least not yet) primarily because he remains one of my closest friends. Christian is straight (currently married with four kids), but before he married we messed around a little bit. At one point things seemed to be getting a little serious between us, and this disturbed Christian because he had no previous encounters with males and had never imagined he would find himself interested in another male.
A few days after our final encounter Christian sat me down to tell me that we couldn’t continue seeing each other sexually. I’ll never forget his words to me that night:
I love you. I want to keep your friendship. But I’ve been thinking about the homosexual lifestyle, and, as far as I can tell, it’s a dead end. It doesn’t lead anywhere productive.
His words stabbed me in the heart. While I don’t totally agree with his conclusion, I understand it. Homosexual partnerships don’t produce children, rarely produce lasting relationships, and homosexuals often end up alone and occasionally rejected by their loved ones. That’s generally the reality of the situation.
As I pondered his painful words over the next few days, my mind wandered to an old homosexual I knew a few years prior named Earl.
Almost immediately after the rape I moved into a big townhouse. I was hoping to make a fresh start, but instead I tried to erase the troubling memory with alcohol and drugs. The townhouse was more than I needed, but it was part of my attempt to “reboot” myself after a traumatizing experience.
Below my townhouse was a small one bedroom apartment rented by a decrepit, 60-something homosexual named Earl. He would sit outside of our building every day in a ratty old lawn chair, a pot of plastic flowers on the ground nearby, and endlessly smoke cigarettes. I remember how Earl had lumpy cholesterol deposits on his eyelids. He would always wear slippers because his feet were twisted and mangled to the point that he couldn’t walk without pain. Earl was friendly enough, but he was obviously all used up and in very poor shape.
Of course, Earl disgusted me at the time. I would prance past him every day in a suit and tie while he eyed up my young, skinny frame. Earl would constantly try to engage me in small talk, but I’d quickly wriggle free of it. Sometimes Earl would give me a sack full of homemade cookies (they always smelled like cigarettes) that I would instantly hurl into the trash. Here I am, this hot young thing! I don’t have time for some old, broken-down fag!
I never thought about Earl as anything other than some ancient, cartoonishly grotesque queer until Christian said those words to me a few years later. Ever since then, I’ve regarded Earl as a warning example.
When we’re young and gay, we think the party will never end. Our bodies will always be slender and firm. Guys will always want us. We will never be alone. When we’re young, we think love and commitment and fidelity are “old people” burdens that will fall in our lap whenever we decide we want them.
Of course, it doesn’t usually work out so easily as the years pass.
For fags, the road is even more treacherous. While fags generally don’t have a desire for love and marriage, they do have a deep yearning to serve Men. That’s easy to accomplish when a fag is supple and fresh with youth, but as time takes a toll, a fag will eventually find itself struggling to find fulfillment. Facing that reality can be quite difficult.
There are many blogs like mine on Tumblr (and elsewhere) touting the fag/Alpha dynamic. I realize some of these are “fantasy” blogs (in other words, the writer isn’t actually living as a fag or an Alpha), but many (like mine) are real. I am actually a faggot. Many of my readers are either fags, or they’re Alphas who use fags. This isn’t some temporary fetish experiment for me. No, my entire life is devoted to the service and worship of Men. I have many readers who feel the same way.
The reality of the immutable effects of time presents each of us with an important problem: how do we find fulfillment and emotional security after we lose the bloom of youth? How do we grow old with dignity while still feeling sexually and emotionally satisfied?
I don’t mean to bring down the mood of this Tumblr party, but I can’t in good conscience promote such a lifestyle without also warning of the “dead end” all fags must eventually face. I have had the privilege to serve many great Men, incredible Alphas to whom I have given all of my devotion and energy. I have been blessed to know them and serve them.
However, such devotion will eventually come at a personal cost to myself. Facing that eventuality will prove to be one of the greatest challenges of my life and of the lives of any fags reading this. How do we avoid ending up broken-down and alone like poor Earl?
Being a fag isn’t a fantasy, it’s reality. And fulfilling a destiny as a true fag ultimately carries with it real consequences. Are we ready for those consequences?
