The Good Faggot Boy As A Son: Subservience With Purpose

We have a new submission - this time it's from @goodpreppyboy, wearing a beautiful pink preppy tie, white shirt, cricket jumper and khakis. I hope he is dressed like this as he's reading this - I suspect he is.

Just a few years ago, this boy tells me he used to dress like all the other men you see on the street - jeans, t-shirts, hoodies. He rarely wore collared shirts, had a suit he put on a couple times a year, and was much like most of the world thinking formal dressing had fallen out of fashion.

But then something switched. He started wearing suits daily - easily the best dressed in the office. He started filling his wardrobe with ties, bow ties, khakis and chinos.

His wardrobe is bursting with London York ties - chosen for their thick, wide power knots that make any man look like a top executive.

From having a single black bow tie for special occasions, he now has several - ready to be tied into knots around the neck - almost one for every fortnight with no repeats. Every day a new chance to show the world how much of a good preppy boy he is.

I have to wonder what happened? Did some formal hypnotist implant something in you, making you forget your meeting, feeding suggestions pushing you to wear preppier and more formal clothes?

Boy, when you reach out to what you want to wear, do you reach past the jeans to find trousers? Do your fingers itch to feel the long silky strands of the neckties? Does your heart beat a little faster at the thought of looking like a good submissive, formally dressed, preppy boy?

The hypnotic suggestions may not have just stopped at the formalwear. Have you been more meek and submissive in the presence of older suited men? Has your voice slipped and called them Sir without you realising? Have you looked at other men your age and wondered what it would be like to dress them in preppy clothes so they're just like you?

I wonder who your new prospective owner might be, feeding you suggestions in the shadows, watching as he covertly hypnotises you into the boy he wants you to become?

What outfit will he be finally impressed with? What will the final trigger be that leads you to sit up, whisper 'I obey', fully under his mentorship of a formal hypnotist instructing you in service and traditional clothes? You'll head out on a walk the next day, dressed perfectly preppy in a bow tie in public, and head to an address you don't recognise. He will open the door and welcome you inside, his face an uncanny resemblance to something deep in the recesses of your mind, but it will be like you have known him forever. He will hand you a tube of cheap hair gel and tell you to slick it down - no modern styles for his boys. He will encourage you to be preppy 24/7 - completely under his control. You will only ever wear pastel colours, boat shoes, button suspenders, khakis, and blazers. He will make it so you believe no outfit is ever complete without a necktie or bow tie.

Perhaps he is just waiting, deliberating, sitting in the shadows hoping you fully conform to his wishes. When you have finally succumbed to his suggestions completely, you will be introduced to his other formal preppy boys who have been turned and changed just like you have. They were all once normal casually dressed guys too, but not now. Now they would never dream of going outside without being properly dressed. It will take time but you'll be trained to conform, forced to fall in line, just a part of his class of good, obedient, well-dressed boys.

He will teach you all collared shirts look better tucked. He will instruct the barber to give you a slick conservative haircut that may feel too crisp, too formal, too old fashioned, but it won't matter because it is neat and proper and the cut all his boys have. He'll slap you on the back, say, 'Get used to it, champ', and that will be that. It's chosen for you.

I fear you may have fallen too far into your new Master's trap to escape. He will not take disobedience lightly. Even if you can logically and critically recognise what he's done to you, even as your fingers shake trying to will them to unfurl the tie around your neck, it won't be enough. It would be temporary even if you can free yourself from your mentor's dress code for his preppy boys of suits, neckties and bow ties. Your mind is so conquered by his hypnotic grip, that it will only be a matter of time before you look in the mirror and find yourself looking like a good preppy boy again.

So why fight it? Clearly, someone out there has plans for you to pursue a life of formality, of preppiness. Surely it's only a matter of time before your daily life is looking this way, where the few casual items in your wardrobe are ignored and you're dressed as he commands. Take your place in his brotherhood, his fraternity, of good preppy boys.

You might look back when you wore jeans and hoodies and wonder what happened to you. But isn't it better to concentrate on conforming, on service, on bringing other formal boys into the brotherhood, and most of all looking proper and preppy without worrying about silly things like the past?

Any formally dressed boys who wish to be inspected please submit a photo or message me privately. I like to tailor each post after I've heard the fantasy. Always looking for submissions as they're fun to write. Happy to reblog to add the caption too. Get in touch boys.

The Good Boy: A Unique Subservient Role in the Masculinity Hierarchy

The good boy occupies a distinct position within the masculinity hierarchy, marked by obedience, loyalty, and a desire to please those above him. While not a dominant figure, the good boy distinguishes himself from the lower tiers (such as the faggot or zeta male) by his willingness to submit without shame or self-degradation. His submission is purposeful and even valued, as it aligns with his natural disposition to serve and support authority figures like the Alpha Gentleman or traditional alphas.

Defining the Good Boy

The good boy is a man who thrives under guidance and command. Unlike weaker figures such as zetas or omegas, the good boy embraces his role with pride, seeing his submission as an opportunity to contribute meaningfully to the hierarchy. His obedience is not born of weakness but of a strong desire to fulfill his purpose within a structure he respects and values.

Key Characteristics:

1. Loyalty: The good boy is unwavering in his allegiance to those he serves. His loyalty is his defining trait, making him a reliable and trusted subordinate.

2. Obedience: He follows commands without question, finding fulfillment in pleasing those above him.

3. Eager to Please: The good boy derives satisfaction from being useful and valued by dominant figures.

4. Moral Alignment: Unlike weaker submissives, the good boy aligns himself with strength and discipline, rejecting chaos and purposelessness.

The Good Boy’s Role in the Hierarchy

The good boy exists just above the zeta and faggot in the hierarchy, as his submission is not degrading but functional. He supports the structure by willingly placing himself under the authority of dominant men, such as the Alpha Gentleman, while actively contributing to the stability and order of the system.

Comparison to Other Submissive Roles:

• Above the Faggot: While the faggot is a figure of degradation and weakness, the good boy’s submission is purposeful and affirming. He serves out of respect and loyalty rather than necessity or humiliation.

• Above the Zeta: The zeta’s submission is inherent and unthinking, whereas the good boy consciously chooses to follow, recognizing the value in serving strength.

• Beneath the Beta: The good boy does not possess the competence or confidence of a beta, nor does he aspire to independence or leadership. His role is to support, not to lead.

The Good Boy and the Alpha Gentleman

The good boy finds his ideal place under the guidance of the Alpha Gentleman, who recognizes and values his loyalty and eagerness to serve. The Alpha Gentleman sees the good boy as a useful tool and a reflection of the hierarchy’s effectiveness. In this dynamic:

• The Alpha Gentleman commands, setting clear expectations and boundaries for the good boy.

• The Good Boy obeys, fulfilling his duties with pride and dedication, knowing his role is appreciated and purposeful.

Public vs. Private Dynamics

In public, the good boy often appears modest and respectful, deferring to those above him without hesitation. In private, his role becomes more intimate, where he might serve as a confidant or even a tool for reinforcing the dominance of the alpha. This duality reflects the good boy’s ability to adapt to the needs of the hierarchy while remaining unwavering in his loyalty.

Conclusion: The Good Boy’s Place in the Masculinity Hierarchy

The good boy represents a purposeful form of submission within the hierarchy of masculinity. While he lacks dominance, his role is not one of degradation but of loyalty, obedience, and service. Positioned above the faggot and zeta but beneath the beta, the good boy thrives under the authority of dominant figures, particularly the Alpha Gentleman.

For the good boy, submission is not weakness; it is fulfillment. His presence reinforces the natural order, supporting the alpha’s dominance while highlighting the effectiveness of the hierarchy. In this way, the good boy serves as a valuable, if subordinate, figure within the structure of masculinity.

Reblog if you want to be hypnotized into a perfect preppy boy

Peter: When vacations suddenly end

In the shimmering waters of Monte Carlo, under the Mediterranean sun, the story of Peter Summers took a dramatic turn. The heir to a billion-dollar fortune, Peter had always lived life on his terms, fueled by an insatiable thirst for excitement. His latest adventure involved his father's prized possession, a magnificent yacht named "The Marauder."

Peter, with his dark curly hair blowing in the sea breeze, had invited a group of friends for an impromptu party aboard the yacht. Music blared, drinks flowed, and laughter echoed over the waves. In a reckless moment of bravado, Peter decided to take the helm, navigating through the azure waters with the confidence of one who had never faced consequences.

However, his inexperience and the yacht's powerful engines were a dangerous combination. In a heart-stopping moment, Peter lost control. The yacht, like a wounded beast, crashed against a hidden reef, its hull gashing open. The sound of rending metal and the rush of water were terrifying. Fortunately, everyone aboard was rescued unharmed, but "The Marauder" lay partially submerged, a testament to Peter's folly.

The news of the incident spread like wildfire. Peter's father, a self-made man who had worked tirelessly to build his empire, was furious. For him, the yacht was more than a luxury; it was a symbol of his achievements, now tarnished by his son's carelessness.

Peter was summoned immediately. The confrontation with his father was intense. His father's disappointment was palpable, his anger barely contained. "You've crossed a line, Peter," his father said, his voice a mix of fury and frustration. "It's time you learn the value of responsibility, of discipline."

Peter's protests fell on deaf ears. His father had already decided on a course of action, one that would change Peter's life forever. He was to be enrolled in the Gentleman Academy, a prestigious institution renowned for transforming wayward young men into disciplined, responsible adults.

The academy, nestled near Kingston Upon Thames, was a world apart from Peter's life of luxury and indulgence. It was a place where discipline reigned, where the sons of the wealthy were taught the values of hard work, humility, and respect.

Peter's reaction was a mix of disbelief and anger. The idea of being sent to an academy for reform was humiliating. He argued, pleaded, and even tried to charm his way out of it, but his father was resolute. "This is not just for your future, Peter, but also to understand the consequences of your actions," his father said firmly.

The realization that there was no escape from this decision dawned on Peter. His privileged life, with its parties and freedom, was being replaced by a strict regimen in a place where his name and wealth meant little.

As he packed his bags, a sense of dread mixed with a flicker of curiosity. What would life be like in this academy? Could he, Peter Summers, the wild, carefree heir, adapt to such a disciplined environment? These questions swirled in his mind as he set off for the Gentleman Academy, unaware that his journey would be one of profound transformation.

In the heart of the prestigious Gentleman Academy, hidden behind its ivy-clad walls, was a barbershop known for its transformative haircuts. The barber, a master of his craft, was given a unique task: to fashion the hair of Peter Summers, the notorious son of a billionaire, who had recently earned infamy for wrecking his father's yacht in Monte Carlo.

Peter, a young man of 20, with a rebellious streak as wild as his untamed, curly dark hair, found himself seated in the barber's chair. He had been myopic since his 11th birthday, his thick glasses a constant companion. His arrival at the academy was sudden, plucked from the luxurious chaos of his holidays to the disciplined corridors of the academy.

As the barber draped the cape over Peter's shoulders, he reflected on the explicit instructions he had received: to choose a comb-over hairstyle for the young Summers. This was not just a haircut; it was a symbol of the academy's authority and a step towards molding Peter into a gentleman.

Peter, accustomed to the latest loose-fitting sports brands and a lifestyle devoid of restrictions, felt a wave of unease. The barber's shop, with its polished floors and the scent of classic cologne, was a far cry from the world he knew. The barber positioned Peter with his back to the mirror, ensuring that the transformation would be a surprise.

The barber began his work, his skilled hands combing through the thick, curly locks. The sound of scissors snipping through hair filled the air, mingling with the soft, classical music in the background. Peter felt the weight of his hair lessen with each cut, a sensation both unfamiliar and unnerving.

As the barber worked, Peter's thoughts drifted. He felt the gentle tug of the comb, the cool touch of the scissors near his skin, and the occasional brush of the barber's hand as he sculpted the hair. The feeling of hair being lifted and sheared was both alarming and fascinating. He could sense the drastic changes occurring but was powerless to see or influence the outcome.

Gradually, the wildness of his hair was tamed. The barber meticulously crafted the comb-over, a style that required precision and an understanding of how to artfully disguise. Peter felt the hair being combed over from one side to the other, covering the top of his head in a smooth sweep. The sides were trimmed shorter, enhancing the contrast.

When the haircut was nearing its end, Peter's heart raced. He realized that this was more than a mere change of hairstyle; it was a shedding of his old identity. The young, carefree, and rebellious Peter Summers was being reshaped into something new, something unknown.

The snipping ceased, and the barber removed the cape. "Your new beginning, Mr. Summers," he said, guiding Peter to face the mirror. The reflection that greeted Peter was a stranger. The wild curls were gone, replaced by a neatly combed sweep of hair, a mature and controlled style that made him appear older, more serious.

Peter's initial shock gave way to a realization. This haircut was a symbol of his new life at the academy. He touched his hair, feeling the smoothness where there once was chaos. It was a stark reminder of the discipline and transformation expected of him.

The next step in Peter's transformation awaited him at the tailor shop next door. As he walked out of the barbershop, Peter felt a mix of emotions. The unfamiliar sensation of his new hairstyle was a constant reminder of the change he was undergoing. The journey to the tailor shop felt like a walk towards a new chapter of his life, one filled with the promises and challenges of becoming a true gentleman.

Peter Summers, still adjusting to his transformative haircut, hesitated momentarily before stepping into the tailor shop adjacent to the Gentleman Academy’s barbershop. The room, steeped in the tradition of tailoring, was awash with warm light. Rolls of fine fabrics and suits at various stages of completion surrounded him, a world away from the casual affluence of Monte Carlo.

The tailor, a man whose sharp eyes missed no detail, greeted him. “Mr. Summers, we’ve been expecting you. Let’s begin with your fitting,” he stated, a tone of finality in his voice.

Peter was handed the tight white cotton briefs and traditional undershirt, the underpinnings of the academy’s uniform. As he donned them, he felt a stark departure from his usual casual attire, a tangible stripping away of his former life.

The tailor then presented the black tailcoat, its classic design extending elegantly to the back of Peter’s knees. The weight of the fabric on his shoulders felt like a mantle of responsibility. Measurements were taken, chalk marks made, ensuring a perfect fit.

Next was the crisp white shirt with its high Edwardian stiff collar, a symbol of discipline and tradition. Tucked into the dark gray high-waisted pants, it transformed Peter’s appearance, lending him a gravity he had never experienced before.

A cream-colored waistcoat followed, adding sophistication. Finally, a dark red cravat was tied around his neck, lending an aristocratic flair to the ensemble.

Peter stood before the full-length mirror, hardly recognizing the young man clad in the uniform of the academy, his new combover hairstyle neatly covering his baldness.

The tailor’s approving nod signaled the end of the fitting. “You are ready to meet the headmaster,” he said.

In the headmaster’s office, a room redolent with the scent of old books and wisdom, Peter was introduced to the academy's ethos by the headmaster, a figure of wisdom and sternness.

“Mr. Summers, here at the Gentleman Academy, we live by ten golden rules. These are not mere guidelines but the pillars upon which true gentlemen are built,” the headmaster began, his voice resonating with authority.

“Rule One: Integrity above all. A gentleman is always honest and true to his word.”

“Rule Two: Respect for all. Regardless of status or situation, a gentleman treats everyone with equal dignity.”

“Rule Three: Self-discipline is key. A gentleman exercises control over his actions and emotions.”

“Rule Four: Commitment to excellence. Mediocrity is not in a gentleman's vocabulary; we strive for the best in all we do.”

“Rule Five: Empathy and understanding. A gentleman always seeks to understand others’ perspectives and feelings.”

“Rule Six: Maintain a dignified appearance. As you have learned, our dress code is part of our identity.”

“Rule Seven: Cultivate intellectual curiosity. A gentleman is a lifelong learner, always seeking knowledge.”

“Rule Eight: Be a pillar of the community. Give back and contribute positively to society.”

“Rule Nine: Practice humility. A gentleman never boasts about his achievements or belittles others.”

“Rule Ten: Uphold the spirit of the academy. Honor these principles both within these walls and beyond.”

Peter listened intently, each rule echoing in the chambers of his evolving self. These were not just rules; they were a blueprint for the transformation he was about to undergo.

“You will sign here, Mr. Summers,” the headmaster continued, presenting the rule book. “This is your commitment to us, and more importantly, to yourself.”

As Peter’s pen met the paper, he felt the weight of this commitment, a solemn vow to embark on a journey from reckless youth to disciplined gentleman.

With his signature, Peter stepped into a new chapter of his life, one that promised not only change but the awakening of a true gentleman within.

The morning sun cast a golden hue across the pristine room of the Gentleman Academy, where Peter Summers, erstwhile heir to a lavish lifestyle, now faced the daunting task of assimilating into a world of discipline and order.

Wrapped in a towel, Peter stood before the mirror in his room, the steam from his shower fogging up the edges. His reflection was barely recognizable - the combover haircut, a far cry from the wild curls he once sported, seemed to mock him from the glass. The realization that he had to style it himself, something he had never done before, filled him with a sense of dread.

As he fumbled with the hairspray, attempting to cover the baldness artfully, frustration crept in. Each unsuccessful attempt chipped away at his patience. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, the can of hairspray slipping from his fingers, clattering on the tiled floor.

There was a knock at the door. “Peter, it’s Luis from down the hall. Can I come in?” called a voice, tentative yet friendly.

Peter, desperate for any semblance of help, replied, “Yeah, sure. The door’s open.”

Luis, a member of the academy’s male pattern baldness club, entered with a knowing smile. “Hair trouble, huh? It takes some getting used to,” he said, picking up the hairspray can and expertly beginning to style Peter’s hair.

As Luis worked, he talked about the club, describing how they supported each other in embracing their new looks. “It’s more than just about hair, you know. It’s about owning who we are now,” he said, his tone warm and understanding.

Peter listened, a sense of camaraderie building inside him. For the first time since his arrival, he didn’t feel entirely alone.

After breakfast, Peter found a secluded spot and dialed his father’s number. The phone rang, each tone amplifying his anxiety.

“Peter? Is everything alright?” his father’s voice came through, stern yet laced with concern.

“Dad, I... I can’t do this. I want to come back,” Peter’s voice wavered, his plea laden with frustration and a hint of desperation.

There was a pause, the weight of his request hanging in the air. “Peter, you can return, but on one condition,” his father finally said. “You join the family business, starting from the ground up, and you follow the ten golden rules of the academy, including their dress code and hairstyle. It’s time you learn responsibility.”

Peter’s heart sank. This wasn’t the escape he had hoped for. “Alright, Dad. I’ll do it,” he agreed reluctantly, understanding that this was another form of discipline, another challenge he had to face.

Epilogue: Transformation

A year had passed since Peter Summers left the Gentleman Academy and joined his father’s company. The journey had been arduous, filled with challenges and lessons that reshaped him.

Peter started at the very bottom, his days filled with tasks he once deemed menial. Each morning, as he styled his hair, now a routine he had mastered, he saw not just his reflection but the embodiment of his new ethos. The combover, once a symbol of his constraints, now represented his commitment to change.

He adhered strictly to the ten golden rules of the academy, each one etched in his memory. The discipline, once a burden, had become a source of strength. He dressed in the prescribed uniform, the tailcoat and crisp shirt a daily reminder of his journey.

His relationship with his father evolved. Respect and understanding grew where frustration and defiance once reigned. They shared conversations, not as father and son, but as equals. “I’m proud of you, Peter,” his father said during one of their meetings, a sentiment that filled Peter with a sense of accomplishment.

Peter’s transformation was not just in appearance but in spirit. He learned the value of hard work, the importance of humility, and the strength in discipline. The reckless young man who once crashed a yacht in Monte Carlo was now a responsible, dedicated member of his father's company.

As he walked through the company's halls, his colleagues, who initially viewed him with skepticism, now looked at him with respect. Peter Summers had not just followed the path laid out for him; he had carved his own, guided by the lessons he learned at the Gentleman Academy.

The year had been a crucible, forging a new Peter, one ready to face the world not just as an heir to a fortune but as a man of character and substance.

There is a quality to a freshly caged fag. Every detail is looked after and thought about. The clothes are pressed and perfect. Facial hair is crisp and even. The materials and color patterns are tested and tuned. Chastity turns on the fine tuning. That is how a boy differentiates himself from the others. It’s not just a look though, it’s an attitude that nonverbally communicates the seriousness he brings to his submission. He's saying, "I'm not just a faggot. I'm someone you should consider Sir." I can't imagine he'll be out in the wild very long. Everything about him is impeccable. A collar will look very handsome around his neck.

Your pleasure and free time are irrelevant—your purpose is obedience, devotion, and submission to those who truly deserve it.

Obedience isn’t conditional. It’s not about when you feel like it or when it’s easy. True submission means following orders without hesitation, without excuses. Your place is beneath Him—serving, pleasing, obeying. Embrace it.