Chapter 100: 15.1.4 x ***
The swollen feeling lasted well into the next day. Koen moved carefully, a hand straying to his lower stomach as if to confirm the memory. By evening, his demonic metabolism had processed the evidence, but the ghost of that immense fullness lingered in his muscles, a pleasurable soreness that made him hyper-aware of his own body. He caught Gabriel watching him sometimes, a smirk playing on the archangel’s lips, but they returned to the easy rhythm of their daily life. The collar stayed in its box. The god and servant dynamic was a room they entered together, and the door was closed for now.
It was over a simple supper of stew and thick bread, three nights later, that Gabriel broached it.
He swirled his spoon idly, his gaze fixed on Koen across the rough-hewn table. “A question,” he said, his tone casual, conversational.
“Hm?” Koen looked up, a chunk of bread halfway to his mouth.
“The collar is a symbol. The… size difference, is a physical testament. But I am an archangel. My being is grace and will given form. Magic is as much a part of me as my wings.” He set his spoon down. “Would it…” He paused, which was rare for him. He was choosing his words with a precision that made Koen pay full attention. “Would it be acceptable to you if I began to incorporate that aspect into our dynamic? Not for harm. Never for that. But for… sensation. For intensity.”
Koen chewed slowly, thinking. His understanding of magic was practical: sigils to ward a door, charms to keep gunpowder dry. Gabriel’s magic was something else entirely—the fabric of reality he could pinch and pleat to his whim. The idea of it being directed at him, inside their private space, sent a simultaneous thrill and shiver down his spine.
“You mean like… spells? On me?”
“Yes. To enhance. To restrain. To make you feel more.” Gabriel’s blue eyes were steady, open. This was a negotiation, not a decree. “You may refuse. It changes nothing of what we already have.”
Koen put his bread down. He thought of the collar’s click, the defining stretch of Gabriel’s true form. This felt like the next logical, terrifying step. A deeper surrender. He found he wanted to give it.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Okay. I’m okay with that.”
Gabriel’s smile was a quick, bright thing. “Good.”
He didn’t elaborate. He finished his stew, asked Koen about the state of his rifle barrels, and talked about an infuriatingly verbose cherub who’d used fifteen paragraphs to request a new quill. The domestic normalcy was a stark contrast to the promise that now hung in the air between them.
the first thing gabriel uses his magic for is to make koen stupider and more devout, it’s not overwriting just amplifying what koen already has. under the spell koen is a stupid, devoted, air headed mess who sees gabriel as his entire world. gabriel wants to see how this stupid version of koen will service him in his true form
The domestic normalcy was a stark contrast to the promise that now hung in the air between them. For two days, Gabriel made no mention of it. He filed grievances, sealed scrolls with wax imprinted by his signet ring, and complained about the price of lamp oil. Koen cleaned his guns, checked his traps along the tree line, and tried not to dwell on the specific, nervous thrill coiling in his gut every time he watched Gabriel’s hands move with graceful purpose.
On the third evening, as rain pattered against the boarded windows, Gabriel finally turned from the fireplace.
“Fetch the collar.”
The words were quiet, but they landed in the room like a stone in a still pond. Koen’s breath hitched. He got up from the chair where he’d been whittling a new stock plate, the wood and knife forgotten in his hands. He went to the study without a word, retrieving the simple wooden box. The mithril inside felt heavier than memory as he carried it back, the cool wood against his palms.
“Kneel.”
Koen lowered himself onto the hearthrug, the wool scratchy through his trousers. The fire popped, casting Gabriel’s face in shifting amber and shadow. He opened the box, took the collar out, and fastened it around Koen’s throat in one fluid, familiar motion. The click was a door shutting out the world. Koen’s shoulders dropped, a tension he hadn’t fully acknowledged releasing in a long, slow exhale.
“Good,” Gabriel murmured, his fingers tracing the metal band. “Now, stay.”
He stepped back, raising his hands. His expression shifted from fond master to cool, calculating archangel. His eyes began to glow, not with anger, but with an inner light the pale blue of a winter morning sky. The air in the cottage thickened, tasting of ozone and the sterile sweetness of lily pollen. A soft, resonant hum vibrated in Koen’s teeth.
“This will not hurt,” Gabriel said, his voice layered, echoing slightly off the low ceiling. “It will only make you more of what you already are. More faithful. More singular. More mine.”
He spoke a word that Koen’s ears refused to shape into sound. It was a pressure, a key turning in the lock of his mind.
The effect was not a blow, but a slow, warm leak. Koen blinked. Thoughts that had been clear lines of purpose—firewood needs splitting, the north-facing window draft, gunpowder procurement—simply dissolved at the edges like sugar in hot tea. A profound, gentle emptiness flooded in behind them. It was peaceful. It was incredibly simple.
His focus, his entire awareness, funneled down to the man standing before him. Gabriel was no longer just Gabriel. He was the center. The source of the light and the warmth. The reason for the air in Koen’s lungs. Koen’s head tilted, a dumb, worshipful smile spreading across his face. His orange eyes, usually sharp with hunter’s intensity, went soft and glossy, fixed unblinking on his god.
“How do you feel, Koen?” Gabriel asked, his tone clinical, testing.
“Good,” Koen sighed, the word thick and syrupy. “You’re so… shiny.”
Gabriel’s lips twitched. “Am I?”
“Mhm. Pretty. My… pretty… thing.” Koen struggled, the complex noun escaping the sieve of his mind. He beamed, immensely proud of getting that much out.
“Can you tell me what you are?”
Koen’s hand flopped up to tap the collar clumsily. “Yours. Duh.”
The arrogance in Gabriel’s expression melted into genuine, startled delight. He crouched down, bringing himself level with Koen’s blissful face. “And what does that mean, being mine?”
“Means… I do stuff. For you. The stuff you say.” Koen leaned forward, nuzzling his cheek against Gabriel’s knee like a cat seeking scent. “Wanna do stuff. Please?”
The raw, unfiltered devotion was a drug more potent than any celestial substance. Gabriel’s planned, controlled experiment wavered. He wanted to drown in this version of Koen, to see how deep the simplicity went. He stood, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that made Koen shiver.
“Undress me.”
Koen clambered to his feet, his coordination loose and puppet-like. His fingers, so deft with trigger mechanisms and springs, fumbled clumsily with the buttons of Gabriel’s linen shirt. He giggled when he finally got one free. He pushed the fabric from Gabriel’s shoulders, his touch reverent and slow, lingering on the flawless skin. Each inch revealed was a revelation to his slowed mind.
When Gabriel stood bare, Koen just stared, his mouth slightly open. “Wow.”
“Now yourself.”
Koen practically tripped pulling his own shirt over his head, his trousers getting tangled around his ankles. He didn’t appear embarrassed, just singularly focused on the task. Naked, he stood waiting, his body a testament to practical strength, now adorned only with the dark band of mithril and a look of vacantly eager adoration.
Gabriel walked a circle around him. “Do you remember our last reward? The real one.”
Koen’s brow furrowed in deep thought. His hand drifted to his own flat stomach. A slow, dawning awe spread across his features. “You… filled me up. All the way up. I felt it… here.” He pressed his palm low. “It was the best.”
“You want that again.”
“Yes.” It wasn’t a plea, but a pure, absolute statement of fact. “Want you. The big you. Want you to—to make me full again. For you.”
That was all Gabriel needed to hear. He took two steps back into the center of the room where the ceiling was highest. “Then watch.”
The dilation of space was still unnerving, but to Koen’s simplified perception, it was simply magic. Beautiful, terrifying, his magic. He watched with widening eyes as Gabriel grew, and grew, and grew, until he filled Koen’s entire world. The twelve-foot-tall archangel looked down from what seemed an impossible height, his true form radiating a soft, ethereal light that made the firelight look weak and dirty.
Koen’s jaw went slack. A string of saliva dripped from his lip. He didn’t cower. He stepped forward, drawn like a moth, his head tilting back so far his throat was a long, vulnerable line.
“You’re so big,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder. He reached a hand out, his fingers trembling, to brush the now-column-like shin before him. The skin was warm silk over stone. “My big… god. All for me to serve.”
Gabriel’s enormous hand came down, not to strike, but to cradle the side of Koen’s face. His thumb, broad as a pickle jar, stroked Koen’s cheekbone. “How will you serve me now, little demon?”
Koen turned his face, nuzzling into the vast palm, kissing the skin. He looked down, then up, a stupid, happy grin on his face as he pointed needily between Gabriel’s legs and then at himself. The meaning was obscenely clear. His movements clumsy with eager devotion, his worshipping eyes fixed on the immense, hardening flesh now level with his face. He didn’t wait for a command. He simply leaned in, open-mouthed and wanting, to begin his service.
His tongue, pink and eager, swiped a broad, wet stripe up the underside of Gabriel’s cock, from the dense thatch of blond curls at the base to the swollen, purple head looming above him. The salt-bitter taste of pre-existing arousal flooded his mouth, a familiar tang that made his own dick jump. He moaned, a ragged, hungry sound, and took the massive head past his lips.
It was an impossible fit. His jaw strained immediately, tendons standing out in his neck as he struggled to accommodate the width. His blunt human teeth scraped lightly, carefully, along the sides. His demonic canines posed a dangerous, thrilling pressure against the sensitive skin. He couldn’t take more than a few inches, but he worked what he could with a desperate, sloppy enthusiasm. His hands came up to grip the mighty shaft, his fingers not meeting, simply holding on as he bobbed his head.
“That’s it,” Gabriel rumbled from above, a hand settling in Koen’s black hair, not guiding, just present. “Use that clever mouth. Get it good and wet for where it’s going next.”
Koen redoubled his efforts, slurping, sucking, licking at the slit. Precome flowed freely now, a continuous, silky leak that coated Koen’s tongue and throat. He swallowed greedily, each gulp a deliberate act of devotion. A warm, dizzying sensation began to bloom behind his eyes. It wasn’t the magic this time. It was something biochemical and intense, a lightheaded euphoria from swallowing so much of the angelic essence. His movements became even more lush, more drunkenly focused.
“Tastes so good,” he slurred, pulling off with a wet pop, gasping for air. Strings of saliva and precum connected his lips to the glistening head. His eyes were half-lidded, glowing orange coals. “Gimme more. Please, sir, need more.”
He dove back down, swallowing the leaking crown again, throat working convulsively. The precome kept coming, a steady drip down his gullet. The intoxicated fog thickened, softening the edges of the room until only the heat and taste and immense presence of Gabriel remained. Koen was no longer just serving; he was guzzling, getting drunk at the source.
koen begins servicing gabriel, getting almost drunk off all the precum he ends up swallowing. then becomes extremely cum drunk after gabriel pumps his load down koen’s throat. koen is basically useless after, unable to think or speak or move, just makes little sounds. gabriel thinks it’s adorable and he treats koen like a doll after
He gulped and sucked, each draw pulling more of that electric-salt fluid into his stomach, a warm pool of diffuse arousal spreading through his own gut. His head swam pleasantly. The world narrowed to the stretch of his lips, the muffled sounds of Gabriel's breathing above, the heavy, musky scent of divine skin.
"Fuck, look at you," Gabriel groaned, fingers tightening in his hair. "Drinking me down like a thirsty little animal. Can't get enough, can you?"
Koen pulled off just enough to gasp, "Nuh-uh. Never enough." His words were slurred, his tongue thick. He dove back on, taking the massive head deeper this time, his throat straining open around the impossible girth. He was humming now, a mindless, contented vibration against Gabriel's flesh.
Gabriel watched him, captivated by the sheer, stupid dedication of it. The spell had sanded every rough edge from Koen's stubborn mind, leaving only this pliant, worshipful core. He was a perfect instrument of devotion, and he was breaking himself on Gabriel's cock with joyous abandon. The build in Gabriel's own groin was a tight, coiling pressure, an ache that demanded release.
"Gonna cum," Gabriel warned, his voice a rough scrape of thunder.
Koen's only response was to redouble his efforts, his throat working in frantic little spasms, his hands kneading the thick base. He wanted it. He was begging for it with every sloppy, incoherent noise.
With a guttural shout, Gabriel came.
The first jet hit the back of Koen's throat with shocking force, a hot, viscous flood that tasted of lightning and ozone and something profoundly, uniquely Gabriel. Koen gagged, tears springing to his eyes, but he held on, swallowing convulsively. The second pulse was thicker, and the third was a seemingly endless river that overflowed his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto his chest.
He drank it. He swallowed every spurt he could, the intoxicating essence now a tsunami washing through his system. His eyes rolled back, glowing orange irises vanishing under his lids. A full-body shudder wracked him as Gabriel finally, slowly, pulled his softening cock from the ruined, dripping hole of Koen's mouth.
Koen collapsed backward onto the hearth rug. He didn't catch himself. He just landed in a boneless heap, a wet, stunned pile of limbs. A low, continuous moan seeped from his lips. His stomach, visibly rounded from the sheer volume he’d ingested, rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. His eyes were open but saw nothing, glassy and unfocused, fixed on the smoke-stained ceiling.
Gabriel shrank back to his human form, the process effortless, a sigh of descending power. He stood over Koen, catching his own breath, his skin gleaming. He watched as Koen twitched, a finger moving lazily against the wool rug. A soft, bubbling sound escaped Koen's lips, followed by a sigh so content it was ridiculous.
"Completely useless," Gabriel murmured, his voice rich with affection. He crouched down, wiping a streak of spent cum from Koen's slack jaw with his thumb. Koen’s head lolled to the side at the touch, his mouth forming a silent ‘oh’.
"My perfect, stupid thing." Gabriel slid his hands under Koen’s shoulders and knees. He lifted him easily, cradling him against his chest. Koen was dead weight, his head lolling back, arms dangling. Only the faint, happy humming in his throat proved he was conscious at all.
Gabriel carried him to the large, overstuffed armchair by the cold fireplace. He sat, arranging Koen in his lap like a doll, Koen's back against his chest, legs splayed open over the arms of the chair. Koen’s head fell back onto Gabriel’s shoulder. He blinked slowly, his orange eyes hazy satellites.
"Can you hear me, sweet thing?" Gabriel asked softly, nuzzling into his ashen hair.
A weak, affirmative groan was the only reply.
Gabriel smiled. He began to toy with him idly, his hands exploring the lax body. He pinched a nipple, rolling the brown nub between his fingers. Koen gasped, a sharp little inhale, but didn't otherwise move. He traced the lines of Koen's abs, feeling the slight, firm distension beneath. He wrapped a hand around Koen's own neglected cock, which was still half-hard. He gave a few lazy strokes.
Koen's body reacted with shallow tremors, tiny aftershocks of sensation. Little punched-out sounds—ah, mmh, ooh—escaped him with each touch, but he made no attempt to direct or participate. He was a puppet, a warm, breathing toy.
"All that demon strength," Gabriel mused aloud, palming Koen's heavy cock, "all that violent potential, reduced to this. To a pile of happy noises and fucked-out mush. It's breathtaking."
He played with Koen for a long while, teasing him to a full, aching hardness and then abandoning it, tracing the shell of his ear, squeezing a muscular thigh. Each touch elicited a new, soft sound. Gabriel narrated it all in a low, possessive murmur, telling Koen how beautiful he was like this, how perfectly owned, how he was going to keep him in this collar and this spell forever.
Eventually, Koen’s humming settled into the steady, deep rhythm of sleep. His body grew heavier, fully surrendering to unconsciousness. Gabriel held him there, in the quiet of the cottage, listening to the rain outside and the slow, satisfied beat of his own heart. He kissed the cool metal of the collar, then the fever-warm skin beneath it. The experiment was a resounding, profound success. He had a new, devastating tool in his arsenal, and a sight he knew he would crave again with a desperate hunger.
He’d have to be careful. This kind of power, over a mind so willingly offered, demanded responsibility. But for now, in the silent, fire-lit dark, he simply held his ruined, devoted servant, and planned the next step
while koen is sleeping gabriel decides to change things up. first he makes koen female, koen is now a dumb air headed bimbo. second gabriel makes it so the more cum koen swallows down her throat the bigger koen’s tits get, the more cum pumped into koen’s ass the bigger koen’s butt and thighs get.
The idea had been a vague, intriguing seed. Now, watching Koen’s lax face, feeling the heavy, trusting weight of him, it sprouted thick and demanding. The magic he’d used was a subtle press on the psyche. What if he applied a more creative, transformative touch? Not just to the mind, but to the very vessel itself.
A slow, predatory smile touched Gabriel’s lips. Responsibility could be playful. It could be indulgent. He shifted Koen gently, laying him on the thick fur rug before the dying fire. Koen mumbled, curling onto his side, still profoundly asleep. Gabriel knelt beside him, his hands hovering over the familiar terrain of taut muscle and tan skin. The collar glinted, a fixed point in the coming storm.
He began to whisper, not in the layeredvoice of command, but in the sibilant, grammatical tongue of deep angelic craft. This was not an amplification. This was a rewrite of lower-case ‘f’ form. His fingers traced glowing sigils in the air above Koen’s chest, his hips, his throat. The light seeped down, sinking into the sleeping flesh like rain into dry earth.
The changes began silently. Koen’s breathing hitched. His form softened, contours flowing and reshaping under the skin. The sharp angles of his shoulders and jaw melted into smoother lines. The muscle definition across his chest and stomach softened, then swelled upward, tissues re-knitting into new, heavier shapes. The hair on his chest vanished, skin becoming utterly smooth. Hips widened, the pelvis creaking with subtle, structural alteration. The flesh of his ass and thighs plumped, rounding with lush, sudden fullness.
Where a cock had lain, the skin smoothed, sealed, reforming into a different set of folds and contours. The process was thorough, profound, and left Koen gasping softly in her sleep, a thin sheen of sweat on her new skin. When it was done, she lay there, a stranger and yet intimately familiar. Her ashen black hair was longer, spilling over her shoulders. Her face was softer, lips fuller. The freckles remained, scattered across the bridge of her nose and the new, generous swell of her breasts. They were large, heavy things already, rising and falling with each breath. Her hips curved dramatically into thick, powerful thighs.
Gabriel sat back on his heels, examining his work. A dumb, air-headed bimbo. The instruction was clear. He wove the second part of the enchantment, threading it into her very cellular structure. A rule of cause and effect, a divine law for her body alone. He linked swallowing to her chest, linking anal saturation to her lower half. The magic settled with a final, sinking warmth.
He dispelled the earlier intelligence-dampening spell. He wanted the new base model, unaltered by other influences. Koen’s eyes fluttered open. The orange irises were the same, but the awareness behind them was different. They blinked, slow and confused, looking up at the ceiling beams, then at Gabriel. There was no fear. Just a vacant, processing blankness.
“Wha…?” Her voice was higher, softer, touched with a breathy confusion. She pushed herself up on her elbows, and the movement made her new breasts sway heavily. She looked down at herself. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. “Whoa.”
“How do you feel?” Gabriel asked, his voice neutral.
Koen stared at her own tits. She poked one with a finger, watching it indent. A giggle bubbled out of her. “They’re so big! And soft!” She squeezed them, her expression one of delighted astonishment. She seemed to notice the rest of her body, running her hands over the wide swell of her hips, the thick new weight of her thighs. “My butt’s huge!” She laughed, a light, airy sound utterly devoid of concern. “What happened? Did you do a magic, Gabe? It feels… fun.”
“I did a magic,” Gabriel confirmed, watching her roll onto her knees, testing the new balance of her body. The sheer, unabashed vapidity was mesmerizing. “Do you like it?”
“It’s amazing!” She beamed at him, crawling the short distance to where he sat. The movement was awkward, uncoordinated, her new center of gravity unfamiliar. She slumped against his legs, looking up with utter, simplified adoration. “You gave me big boobs. And a big butt. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” he said, stroking her hair. The collar was still there, snug around her slender throat. “They can get even bigger, you know.”
Her eyes widened. “Bigger? How?”
Gabriel unbuckled his trousers, freeing his already hardening cock. “Like this. A new rule. Whatever you swallow, makes these,” he cupped one heavy breast, weighing it, “grow. Whatever I put in your ass, makes this,” his hand slid down to grip a handful of her ample backside, “even thicker. Understood?”
Her orange eyes fixed on his cock, then looked back at her chest, a literal, visible chain of causality dawning in her empty head. A wide, eager smile spread across her face. “So if I suck you… I get prettier?”
“Yes.”
“And if you fuck my bum… I get a bigger bum?”
“That’s right.”
She clapped her hands together, giddy. “That’s the best rule ever! I wanna be the prettiest! I wanna be the biggest!” She didn’t wait. She lunged forward, taking him into her mouth with the same desperate enthusiasm as before, but with a new, targeted greed.
She sucked hard, her full lips stretching around his girth. She moaned around him, the vibration sweet and desperate. Her hands kneaded her own breasts as she worked, as if encouraging them. Gabriel watched, enthralled, as she deep-throated him with a bimbo’s singular dedication, gagging and sputtering but never stopping. Precome flooded her mouth. She gulped it down audibly, a lewd, swallowing sound.
A warmth began to build in her chest, a strange, blooming fullness that had nothing to do with arousal. She pulled off, gasping, a thick strand of spit and precum connecting her lip to his head. “They’re tingling!” she squealed, looking down.
They were. The soft, heavy orbs were fuller, the skin tighter. They swelled perceptibly, creeping upward in size, becoming heavier, rounder, the areolas darkening slightly. The change was immediate and magical.
“See?” Gabriel muttered, pushing her head back down. “More.”
She obeyed, sucking and slurping with renewed vigor, treating his cock like a carnival treat that dispensed beauty. She swallowed every drop he gave her, and with each gulp, her breasts inflated further. They became truly massive, straining against their own weight, deep cleavage forming. She was grunting with effort, her jaw aching, but her eyes shone with a vacuous triumph.
When Gabriel finally came, it wasn’t the thunderous release of his true form, but a hard, pulsing orgasm that shot directly down her waiting throat. She drank it all, milking him with tight sucks, swallowing over and over as her chest bloomed into absurd, pornographic proportions. They were immense, soft pillows that rested on her swollen stomach when she finally sat back, panting.
She looked down at herself, hefting the new weight in her hands. “Ohmygod,” she breathed, her voice full of awe. She jiggled them, watching them sway. “They’re, like, perfect.”
“Not done,” Gabriel said, his voice rough. He turned her around, pushing her forward onto her hands and knees. Her ass was already substantial, but it looked almost modest compared to the dizzying expanse of her chest. He spat into his hand, slicking himself, and positioned his cock at the tight, virgin pucker of her asshole. The enchantment had prepared the pathway, but it was still a tight, clenching ring of muscle.
“This’ll make my butt really big?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes wide.
“Yes. Take it.”
He pushed inside, the tight heat exquisite. She yelped, a sharp, high sound, as he stretched her open. He fucked into her with slow, deliberate strokes, each one burying him to the hilt in the clutching, hot channel. She groaned, pushing back against him, eager for the promised result.
“Feel it stretching you?” he grunted, picking up the pace. The slap of his balls against her new, plush flesh was obscenely loud. “Feel how deep I am? This is what’s going to remake you.”
“Yes! Yeah! Make my ass huge, Gabriel, please!” she begged, words slurred with each driving thrust.
He hammered into her, the vulgar sound of their coupling filling the cottage. The more he fucked her, the more the magic responded. Her ass, already generous, began to swell outward, the cheeks growing rounder, fuller, heavier. Her thighs thickened in sympathy, becoming powerful pillars of soft flesh that trembled with each impact. She was being sculpted by his cock, her lower body inflating with every desperate, driving plunge.
He came with a choked roar, pumping his cum deep into her bowels, flood after hot flood. As he emptied himself, the final, dramatic change occurred. Her backside ballooned, becoming a caricature of lusciousness, an immense, jiggling shelf of flesh. Her thighs touched all the way down, thunderous and soft.
He pulled out, spent. Cum leaked from her used hole, dripping down her enormous thighs. Koen collapsed forward, a gasping, giggling mess. She reached back, patting her own monumental ass, feeling the staggering new size.
“I’m so fucking hot,” she slurred, her mind swimming in a cocktail of endorphins and pure, vapid vanity. She rolled onto her side, a mountain of amplified flesh, and beamed at him with empty, joyful devotion. “Your magic is the best.”
Gabriel looked at his handiwork—the collared, impossibly proportioned, mindlessly happy creature panting on the rug. The power was indeed intoxicating. He wondered, idly, what other rules he might invent, what other forms of worship this new, plastic devotion might take. The possibilities stretched before him, as endless and tempting as the curve of her new hip.