A few days passed of me avoiding Gabriel again. Avoiding the common spaces, including the kitchen, as much as I was, coupled with the stress of my money troubles, my food consumption continued to decline. The minimal amount of fat left on my body went away. My waist was impressively (or worryingly) thin now. But inches didn't simply shed, instead they seemed to migrate to my hips, thighs and ass. When I looked in the mirror now, I saw a round hourglass figure, with a thin waist sloping into wide hips. It really didn't look bad...for a girl's body though...Damn, what was I thinking?

But I could also swear that I was putting on weight in my chest. Specifically, my pecs were becoming more...fleshy...somehow. I began wearing thicker shirts or sweaters around the house when I noticed that my nipples were starting to jutt out and make distinct impressions on my t-shirts. It didn't make much sense, given that I was dropping weight rapidly according to the scale.

Avoiding him couldn't last. Almost a week following the last session, I finally ran into Gabriel in the living room. It seemed he was watching famous old boxing matches or something. I turned to go to my room.

"Ah Mishel. You emerge!"

"Uhh yeah...Hi Gabriel." I pointedly kept my eyes on his head, not looking to any other part of his body, certainly not his...waist area.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Fine I guess." I answered sullenly.

"Good, good...So.." That "so" had an ominous quality to it and it got my attention. "So far I do not have buyer for new painting, though many people admire it. In meantime, we must do more."

I stammered. "Gabriel, I really don't think..." I didn't think what? Didn't think we wanted to pay rent? "I...surely we can give it more time."

"There are no guarantees in life, Mishel. We must give ourselves many avenues for success. Our hopes cannot only rest only on one painting, yes?"

I exhaled, shoulders slumping. "I suppose."

Suddenly a hand was raising my chin. I almost stepped back. He had risen from the couch so silently I didn't even hear him. I stared up into his deep hazel eyes.

"Do not be discouraged, beautiful Mishel. All will be well." He grinned and his strong, brooding face softened wonderfully. A welcoming, open smile. He also looked more his age for once, the early 20-something youthfulness emerging.

In spite of myself, I almost began smiling before hardening my face. "Give it a rest, Gabriel. And don't fucking touch me." I turned my head. He just chuckled. But he also stepped away.

That afternoon, Gabriel had me wear a pair of cut-off jean shorts that he said "would hug my ass beautifully," and a tight pink t-shirt that was short in front, showing a few inches of my thin flat stomach. To my horror, he also gave me a bra, size C, and told me to wear it and stuff it with something, saying that it would work "for now" (whatever that meant).

Before I put any of it on, though, he sat me down again and spent 45 minutes carefully applying my makeup. This time, though, he very clearly described everything he was doing as well as what he was using. He had me look in the mirror and complete a few strokes of a brush here or a pen there. "You will need practice" he said. I glowered but relented, paying attention. After all, I didn't want to have to sit there staring into his eyes every time we did this, did I? I found myself staring at his arms as he applied the makeup, impressed with the practiced precision he managed with such thick muscular biceps and shoulders. Professional experience, I supposed. And having looked into his eyes so long, I thought I had identified 5 different colors in his irises. What I had previously thought of as hazel was actually a mix of green, brown, blue, black, and even a bit of red. They were really quite something...

Afterwards, I began putting on the clothing but stumbled unsuccessfully with the beige bra until Gabriel popped his head in again, chuckled upon seeing me twisting in half trying to get the thing on, and came over to help. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck as he deftly snapped it together in the back. It actually fit around my torso very nicely. He rested his large hands on my shoulders from behind and my breath caught. He felt down my sides, tracing my curves right to my ass, where he rested them for a few seconds before removing them. "Perfect" he said. "I'll give you your privacy again." I exhaled as he walked out.

Only once I closed the door behind him did I proceed to stuff the bra with the toilet paper I had brought to my room for this purpose. The matching panties fit shockingly well, and again I had to admit the feel of the stretchy fabric hugging my round ass was not an altogether unpleasant one.

The shorts and top were next, then the mirror. My mouth dropped open. I was surprised last time. This time I was floored. My tits made a huge difference. I was...a female. I mean, in the mirror it looked like it at least. I turned sideways and watched my hourglass figure turn into a voluptuous one, with large curves at my chest and ass. I adjusted the stuffing a bit so it looked more realistic, and felt better about it once it did. My long legs looked nice too, though something was missing...

I walked to my closet and found a pair of Jennifer's tan-colored wedges. Perfect.

Slipping them on, I wobbled back to the mirror. Damn. My ass looked even better than before.

"Mishel. Are you coming?" Gabriel's voice floated down the hall.

I jumped, taken out of my reverie. I gathered myself and stepped out, finding I was strangely excited...

Even in the wedges (I was definitely not sure-footed like this) I walked out confidently. I knew I looked good after all.

As I approached Gabriel, though, his appraising eye didn't give anything away. He slowly circled me and I felt my confidence ebbing away.

Facing me again, his eyes scanned up and down my body. God...what was he thinking? I started to tremble.

"Fantastic, Mishel. Just fantastic."

I smiled wide before I realized what I was doing. I shook my head and suppressed the euphoric feeling that had just welled up inside of me. Fuck. This. Ass. Hole.

I set my face to angry and he grinned at me.

"Just like that, hands on your hips, yes. Stay there."

He retreated quickly to his easel and my face faltered in confusion.

"No - the angry look. Smoldering. Yes, that's it. Yesss"

I stared defiantly into his eyes for the entirety of the session. He stared back, his face filled with cool intensity once again. His eyes boring into my very soul. His paint brush flew and in less than an hour he stepped away. He had barely even given me instruction.

"That's it?" I asked.

He stood admiring his work. "Yes...it works."

"What? What works?"

"Come, Mishel." he gestured me over.

I walked to him and looked at the painting. I was beautiful, bold, confident. I looked out from the frame with strength and poise and...something...There was something about it that was powerfully raw...sexual...suggestive...


"As I have explained, our relations, it is not without purpose. Do you not scream "SEX" here, Mishel?"

I spun towards him. "You think...!? There is NOTHING suggestive in how I'm sitting there. Nothing sexual! No tens...!"

But as I spun He stood much closer than I realized. My words died.

"Part 2 of our session, Mishel."

I fought it. I tried arguing it was never the deal. That it didn't help, only distracted. I told him he was a pervert and a predator. Nothing phased him. And he made clear that this was a necessary part of our arrangement now. In the end, he sat on the couch as I rested on my knees on the floor between his legs. Full to the brim with shame, embarrassment, anger, and...impatience? I once again fished out the massive serpent from his pants.

In this position, it stood proud, already fully erect, right in front of my face. It...he was a freak of nature, and again I couldn't tear my eyes away.

This time I began stroking immediately. I...I was resigned, wanting to get it over with. That was it. Neither hand could get around on it's own, but I could do it when I put my hands together. It felt so...impressively...large. It filled up my cupped palms and fingers completely.

Gabriel encouraged me, complimenting me on my technique and making suggestions. Long and slow strokes. Slow and fast. Rub the head. Play with his balls (they were massive, perfectly proportioned to his monster cock). Forgetting my goal to get him off as soon as possible, I paused stroking his beautiful cock so that I could run my hands up and down the inside of his thighs, teasing him. His thighs were thick and hard as steel, with ridges of muscle that rippled with every movement. He moaned in frustrated pleasure and I grinned mischievously at him.

Gabriel extended a finger to my mouth but I turned my head. That wiped the grin off my face. This fucker. Let's get this over with. I grabbed his cock again and began pumping faster. Gabriel held his long index finger to my lips again and I turned my head again. Faster and faster my hands slid up and down his huge rod. Again Gabriel pushed his fingers towards my mouth. Again I avoided it. After a few more attempts, I relented and opened my lips to his finger. He began sliding his finger up and down my tongue. It felt...nice...for some reason. I closed my lips around his finger and sucked lightly. He tasted fresh and clean.

I continued sucking his long finger as he slid back and forth within my mouth, all the while stroking his cock faster and faster. I gagged on his finger a few times but Gabriel pet my hair patiently "yes we must work on your gag reflex, beautiful. You will need to improve."

What the fuck did that mean? Fucker. I was only doing this for rent. I pumped faster and faster. The feel of his cock in my hands and finger in my mouth got confused, and I began to imagine it was really his cock in my mouth. I pumped faster and faster and sucked harder. So big. Suck. Pump. Suck. Pump. So gloriously hard.

Gabriel was no longer moving his finger, instead I bobbed my head back and forth along it. Bob. Bob. Bob. I suddenly realized that, so focused on the feeling of Gabriel's cock in my mouth (wait what? No his finger), I had closed my eyes. I opened them wide again to find myself staring point-blank at the huge mushroom head of Gabriel's unbelievable cock. I paused my sucking...Would it be so different to suck that instead?

Then Gabriel's serpent grew in my hand even more (how was it possible). I knew what was coming and moved to pull my head away. But Gabriel's hands closed around my head, locking me in place. His cock exploded, spraying cum over my face in one, two, three, four, five thick strong ropes that would have thrown me back with their sheer force had Gabriel not been holding me in place. Finally, Gabriel released me and I collapsed to the ground.

"Oh my god. Oh my...oh my god. Oh god. Gabriel. So much..." I lay on the floor dazed. I licked my lips and was rewarded with a delicious salty creamy taste. Then I realized what I was tasting.

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck." I mumbled, gaining steam, gaining anger. "WHAT THE FUCK, GABRIEL!"

Gabriel had been striding away but he turned back, squaring up to me. His cock hung low and heavy now and I glanced down at it before moving my eyes back up his muscled body to his face. Fuck he was huge. His eyes blazed with intensity. I swallowed.

"My women do not talk like that to me, Mishel. I think I have been too soft on you. Yes...If you continue such behaviour, I will have to start properly house training you, Mishel."

I swallowed again but didn't reply. What. The. Fuck.

He turned and stalked from the room. My eyes followed the thick strong globes of his ass as he retreated.

Ass hole.

The following weeks followed a similar pattern of torture. Gabriel dominated the living spaces, using them at his pleasure and rarely staying in his room. Meanwhile I practically lived in mine, trying to avoid the ass hole. The only regular interaction was when he knocked to drop off my morning coffee.

Gabriel had found a buyer for another piece but the buyer would also be paying in installments. We needed the money. My bank account had also run out and so Gabriel wasn't only paying rent, he paid for all my food as well. I continued looking for a job without success. I just could not escape the fucking russian goon.

My body continued to develop strangely. I began wondering if it just had to do with being cooped up indoors all the time. It was doing something strange to my muscles. And my pecs kept getting bigger! They almost reminded me of small tits at this point. God it was embarrassing.

I talked to Jennifer about once a week, and the conversations were always awkward and strained. She asked about Gabriel a lot for some reason. I kept my answers vague and uninteresting.

Every two or three days, Gabriel would track me down for another "session." He'd dress me in more and more suggestive outfits, and any protest of mine no longer had any effect.

After the sessions, no matter what I said, no matter how I tried to wriggle my way out, I would always find my hands on Gabriel's impossibly large cock, stroking fast and hard until it exploded all over me. He told me I was getting better and better, and I knew I was. I knew just how he liked the rhythm and here the most sensitive spots were. I knew how to slow it down to draw it out when I felt him arriving at the brink. I knew how to build up, how to excite him, how to fill him with so much lust that he squirmed in my hands. In a relationship where I held no power, I felt strangely powerful in those moments.

I did not tell Gabriel that I continued to cum in my panties spontaneously with him during every session. The fucker would hold that over me somehow. I didn't know why it was happening but it must have been just because I didn't get any action anymore...other than what I did for Gabriel.

I tried not to piss him off, I really did. His words from last time I'd angered him, something about training, still concerned me. But there was really only so much humiliation I could take. Finally, one day, after Gabriel had finished painting me, I really stood up for myself again. Fuck him, I thought. He didn't rule me. We didn't have to do "part 2" every single fucking time. I told him so, my voice rising to a shrill yell.

He looked back at me, his eyes blazing with anger.

His voice was cold, though, controlled. It chilled me to my core. "So your training shall begin, Mishel."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the couch as I yelped. Then he sat down and laid me across his lap. What the fuck!?

He pulled up the long pencil skirt he had me wearing that day so it looped around my waist, exposing my ass - which was clad only in thin royal blue panties. He rested his huge right hand on my exposed cheeks it while the other rested on my upper back, holding me down. My heart beat fast in my chest and my breathing came raggedly.

"What the fuck are you doing, Gabriel. Let me fucking go! Fuck off!"

He squeezed my ass hard and I gasped. His hand was so large it cupped both cheeks.

"Such a nice ass Mishel." He said, fondling my round cheeks. These past weeks I had realized he was right. My ass was really stupendous. It was plush, round, and taught. Shockingly, I filled out panties and binkinis better than Jennifer ever had. As he petted and squeezed, it was easy to imagine he was doing so to a girl's ass. His strong fingers pressed into me. Any squirming was put to a stop when he rested his free hand on the top of my back. It was like a cement pylon pressing onto me. I couldn't move an inch and I was utterly at his mercy. Though he was 10 years younger than me, I was powerless in the hands of this enormous man.

"It is a shame I must do this to such a beautiful thing." Then he raised his hand up. Only had time for a moment of panic before he brought it down hard.


I cried out as the first spank landed. Oh god it hurt!


I cried out again. Oh fuck.




Gabriel spanked me hard in slow, regular slaps across my ass. He spaced each out out a few seconds which allowed my whimpering and begging to come across before the next slap.

"Pleasssseeeee...oh god." OUCHHHH..

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP. I began sobbing.

"Oh pleaseee stoppp...I won't..." I was utterly helpless. I was overpowered. Dominated. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't handle it.


"PLEASE. I won't speak like that..."



I braced for the next blow. I just wanted it to stop. I felt hot tears running down my face, dripping onto the couch.

It didn't come. I gasped as Gabriel pulled me upright on his lap and turned me so I faced him, tears rolling down my face.

His face had softened and was looking at me sympathetically. "I am sorry I had to do this Mishel." He wiped my tears away with his thumb. "I hope you do not make me do so again." I trembled, holding onto his arm to prevent myself from falling over.

I shook my head, trying to stem the flow of tears. My ass throbbed with pain and sitting on him wasn't helping. I felt his huge cock pressing into my ass cheeks.

Slowly, wiping my tears, he drew me deeper into his lap. He turned me around, tucked me into his arm and pulled my head onto his broad chest. I lay there, neatly tucked into this huge man, still trembling. He whispered that everything was okay. That he wasn't mad at me anymore. He shushed and soothed my whimpers.

Finally, after a few minutes when my breathing had calmed, Gabriel Said "Good, Mishel. That is good. Shall we continue to part 2?"

Slowly, I nodded my head. His voice was calm but I feared it turning to ice like before if I refused. I slipped off his lap so that I kneeled next to him on the couch. I stayed on my knees, relieved not to have the pressure against my ass. Bending over, I fished his impossibly large cock from his pants (thankfully, my hands had stopped trembling), and began stroking him. The feel of him was so familiar in my hands,

I concentrated on getting him off. I didn't want to think about what he did and I didn't want to anger him again. Just pleasure his cock. Squeeze and rub and stroke and tease. I pulled out all of my tricks as his turret grew harder and longer in my hands. I knew he liked when I felt his body so I ran one hand over his legs and abs while the other continued stroking his pole. He was just so strong, it was unbelievable. My hands (my nails were manicured and painted at his insistence) looked so small and dainty pressed against his hard body and huge cock.

Gabriel whispered soft encouragements to me, petting my hair (which was shoulder length now and shiny and sleek from the conditioner he had me using) and occasionally stroking my cheek. The huge hands he had just demonstrated the power of now felt so soft and gentle.

I focused again on his cock. Needed to make him happy. Needed to please him. I held it towards my face, stroking in long fast regular strokes, building his excitement. I slowed down again and concentrated on the tip, swirling my hands around it as it pointed towards me intimidatingly. Just the tip seemed to fill my vision. I felt him squirming and held back a grin. I was in control again.

I stroked him faster, moving one hand to the balls briefly and causing him to gasp. "Ahhhh. Yes Mishel. Fantastika." When he switched to Russian he was getting close, losing control. Too soon.

I let up again, causing him to groan. I rubbed up and down his strong legs. For some reason, though I'd never done it before, I kissed one of them. I could feel the hard sinewy muscle of the inside of his quad against my lips. It was intriguing, plus I knew it would drive him crazy. I did it again, and again. Moving from one leg to the other.