Compensation

You wake up already half-hard, the morning wood throbbing with that familiar alpha rush. Another day to own the internet, to remind these weak betas and mouthy bitches exactly who’s in charge. You smirk, scratching your balls through your boxers as you boot up the laptop. This is how real men do it—raw, unfiltered dominance. No simping, no apologies. Just pure, balls-deep alpha energy. You crack your knuckles and dive in, cock twitching at the thought of the reactions you’re about to trigger.

First stop: X. Your feed is a goldmine of roasties posting their “empowered” bullshit. Some influencer chick with fake tits and a duckface is ranting about “toxic masculinity.” You fire off a reply before you even finish scrolling: “Lmao look at this entitled cumdumpster. Bet you’d shut the fuck up if a real man bent you over and stuffed that pretty mouth full of superior cock. Stay mad, princess—your beta orbiters can’t even get it up.”

You hit post, leaning back with a satisfied grunt. Your dick jumps, thickening against your thigh. God, it feels good putting these sluts in their place. That’s what dominance looks like.The replies roll in fast. Some dude-bro laughs it up—“Based king”—but most? Pure cope. One woman quotes you: “This is the saddest small dick energy I’ve seen all week. Do you even own a mirror, champ?”

Another chimes in with a laughing emoji string: “Bro’s out here projecting harder than a porn projector. Touch grass… or therapy.” You laugh it off, stroking yourself lazily through the fabric. Idiots. They just don’t get it. Jealousy from the weak. You type back to the first one: “Small dick? Honey, I’d split that sloppy pussy in half and have you begging for more while your little boyfriend cries in the corner. Keep coping, feminist trash.”

Your cock is fully hard now, leaking a wet spot into your boxers. You shove them down and wrap a fist around it—thick enough for you, veiny, the kind of tool that owns holes. You pump slowly while scrolling deeper, hunting for more targets. A cute college girl posts a selfie in yoga pants.

“Yoga for self-love ” her caption reads. Your fingers fly: “Self-love? Nah. What you need is a dominant alpha to fold you like a pretzel and rail that tight little ass until you forget your own name. DM me if you’re not a total prude, slut.” Send. You groan, thumbing the head of your cock, smearing the precum. Imagine her on her knees right now, mascara running, **** on you while she types out how sorry she is for ever posting that shit.DMs start pinging. One from a random chick who replied to your earlier post: “You’re disgusting. Blocked.” Pathetic. Another from some thirsty e-girl: “Lol you talk big for an anon. Prove it.”

Perfect. You switch tabs to the private chat and unload: “Prove it? I’d grab you by the hair, **** you face-down on the bed, and pound that dripping cunt raw while you scream ‘yes Daddy’ like the **** whore you are. I’d flood your womb with thick alpha seed until it’s leaking down your thighs, then make you lick it clean off the sheets. That’s what real men do, bitch. Your turn—send pics or shut the fuck up.”She responds with a string of laughing emojis and a voice note: “Omg this is peak small dick energy. You sound like every insecure loser who’s never touched a woman. Enjoy your hand, tiny.”

The audio plays—her voice all mocking and sweet—and it hits you like a slap. Your face burns, but your cock betrays you, pulsing harder. You stroke faster, angry now, typing furiously: “Keep telling yourself that while you ride your vibrator wishing it was me, you frigid cunt.” But she’s already gone. Blocked.You don’t stop. You can’t.

The humiliation just fuels the fire. You hop over to Reddit, r/Femdom or some shit where these fake dommes post. No—better, you find a thread in r/relationships where a girl’s complaining her boyfriend won’t eat her out enough. You drop a novel-length comment: “Ladies, this is why you need a real Alpha. I’d bury my face in that pussy for hours, tongue-fucking you until you squirt all over my chin, then flip you over and destroy your asshole while you thank me. Your boyfriend’s a beta cuck. Upgrade to a man who knows how to break you.”

The downvotes flood in. Comments pile up: “This guy’s dick is so small he has to compensate with paragraphs ” and “Bro thinks negging is foreplay. Therapy is free, king.” One top reply just says “Small dick energy: the novel.”Your balls tighten. You’re jerking it full speed now, laptop screen glowing on your flushed face, the room filled with the wet slap of skin on skin. You switch to a cam site, lurking in the free chat of some big-tit camgirl. She’s teasing her nipples, moaning for tips. You type in the public chat: “Those fake tits are begging for a real man’s hands. Tip me and I’ll tell you exactly how I’d **** you out while I rail you doggy-style, slut.”

The mods warn you. Viewers spam “lol incel” and “tiny pp vibes.” The camgirl reads it aloud in her bubbly voice: “Aww, another keyboard warrior. Baby, if you’re gonna talk that big, at least show me the goods.” The chat explodes in laughter.You’re so close. You minimize everything, pull up a quick porn tab—some alpha POV pounding a screaming sub—but it’s your own words echoing in your head that push you over.

All those bitches calling you out, their mockery dripping with that delicious mix of disgust and pity. You grunt, hips bucking, and blow your load in thick ropes across your keyboard. It splatters the keys, hot and sticky, while you picture every one of them on their knees anyway, **** to admit you’re right even as they laugh.You wipe your hand on your thigh, chest heaving.

Pathetic simps and roasties everywhere, but you owned them today. That’s alpha. That rush. You lean back, soft cock still twitching, already scanning for the next target.

Tomorrow you’ll go harder.

They’ll see.

They always do.