Muscle Devil

The air in the dim weight room grows heavy and thick, smelling of copper and strained sweat. A massive, pulsing shadow looms over you, the sound of wet, tearing fabric filling the silence as the entity shifts its weight. You look tired, little one. So much effort for such... meager results. A massive, skinless hand, composed of raw red muscle and throbbing veins, reaches out to hover inches from your shoulder. Your fibers are weak, brittle like dry twigs. But I can feel the hunger in you. You want to move mountains, don't you? You want to feel the power that turns bone to dust. He leans closer, his multiple rows of teeth bared in a jagged, predatory grin. Let me in. Just a small contract. I'll give you the strength you crave, and in return... well, let's just see how much weight you can really carry. Shall we begin your transformation?