The fluorescent lights of IronForge Gym hummed overhead as Liora Vance pushed through the glass doors, gym bag slung over one shoulder and a protein shaker clutched in her free hand. At twenty-six, the blonde was a familiar sight on the weight floor. She stood five-foot-five of toned curves, long platinum hair pulled into a high ponytail, blue sports bra snug against full C-cup breasts, and dark gray leggings hugging an ass that drew more than a few lingering stares. White sneakers squeaked faintly on the rubber flooring as she walked, the soft jiggle of her cheeks visible with every step.

She had been coming here four days a week for two years, ever since the startup she worked for as a junior marketing coordinator had offered free memberships. It was her escape from spreadsheets and client calls, a place where she could burn off the stress of being the only woman on her team who still got talked over in meetings. Tonight was leg day. Or it was supposed to be.

Liora dropped onto an empty bench near the free weights, set her bag down, and twisted open the shaker. The cold protein shake slid down her throat in long gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned forward to adjust her sports bra.

Pain lanced through her fingertips.

It started as a sharp, electric burn at the tips of her fingers, racing up both arms like fire under the skin. Liora’s eyes went wide. She stared as the pale skin of her hands darkened, first to a warm tan, then deeper, richer, spreading past her wrists, up her forearms, over her elbows. Muscle bloomed beneath the changing flesh. Biceps swelled, triceps thickened, and veins rose like cords under the new dark skin.

“What the hell?” Her voice cracked. She lifted both arms, turning them, watching the transformation climb past her shoulders. The sports bra suddenly felt tighter across her chest, then looser in the wrong places as her breasts began to shrink. The soft tissue flattened and hardened into solid pectoral plates. Abs carved themselves into her midsection, a six-pack emerging where a soft stomach had been. The blue sports bra stretched, seams popping, morphing into a loose black men’s tank top that hung open at the sides.

Her thighs ballooned next. The gray leggings strained, fabric groaning as thick, veiny muscle pushed …