You pump weights over and over, a never ending rhythm of muscle building reps. You're at it for so long that you lose track- hours? Days? What does it matter? Getting huge and flexing is all you desire anymore. With every pump of iron, you feel your muscles tearing and re-knitting themselves, stronger and larger. Eventually, you feel your muscular gut rumble; it's time to eat.
With no regard for safety, you fling the barbell to the floor with a loud smash. It was getting too light anyway. Your body instinctively knows that it's dinnertime and you thud your way across the gym to the dining room. You're too large to fit through the doors normally so you try to turn to the side, but unfortunately your pecs are too fat and jutting to fit that way either. You're becoming quite the meatball.
"Screw it..." You mutter, rolling your swollen quads over one another and simply walking straight through the wall. The mansion's walls are no match for your might, and the structure crumbles as you pass through. On the other side of the doorway is the witch, preparing your meal, and she looks very shocked to see how you entered the room.
"Ack! Be careful, you ignor- I, uh, I mean, please be more careful! This house is very old." The witch says, clearly annoyed at your actions.
"Whatever." You reply, not caring in the slightest how she was annoyed. "Hungry." You stomp over to the dining room table and take a seat, crushing the chair beneath you. The with rolls her eyes and uses her magic to shorten the legs of the table, shrinking it down so it's at lap level with you. You barely notice anything wrong, you just want to eat so you can get back to working out. On the table is lots of protein rich foods: steaks, salmon, literal protein shakes and more. There aren't even any utensils on the table, due to the witch thinking you wouldn't need them. She's right- you just begin grabbing food by the fistfuls and shoving it into your mouth, giving the meats a courtesy chew before simply swallowing. You need as much protein as possible, as fast as possible. Grabbing a bottle full of protein shake, you suck the liquid down and crush the bottle in your hand like an aluminum can, tossing it to the ground. You continue to gorge like this for as long as the food keeps coming.
The witch has been growing increasingly impatient with you. Even under her spell, you're still rude and disrespectful, taking from her without any form of gratitude. If you weren't making such rapid and impressive gains, she would have simply eaten you days ago, but she had decided to put her eggs in the basket that is your rippling, grotesque body. It was worth the stress and property damage to get what could be the most delicious meal she had ever made out of you- she hopes.
Eventually, the food stops coming and you realize it's time to stop eating.
"Alright, dinnertime is o-" The witch says but is interrupted by you flipping the table over. "Gah!"
"Heh heh..." You chuckle, pleased at how you spooked the witch. Carefully climbing to your feet, your calves almost reaching the floor, you stumble back through the half destroyed doorway you entered through. The witch is furious at your disrespect, but thinks that it's almost over, soon you'll be cooked and eaten...