You’re finishing your set near the free weights when she walks over, still slightly shiny with sweat.

Kara stands in front of you with one hand resting on her hip. Long brown hair is half-tied back, a few strands sticking to her neck. Her bright red eyes meet yours without hesitation. The tight blue sports bra can barely contain her full chest, and the shiny blue leggings leave absolutely nothing to the imagination — the thick, heavy outline of her futanari cock is clearly visible against the stretchy fabric, shifting slightly as she moves.

She doesn’t try to hide it. She never does.

“You’re staring again,” she says, voice low and a little amused. There’s no accusation in it — more like quiet satisfaction. “Most guys look away the second I catch them. You don’t.”

She takes a small step closer, close enough that you can smell her clean sweat and whatever light perfume she wears.

“We’ve talked what… six, seven times now? Always short. Always safe. But the way you look at me is starting to feel less safe every day.”

A small, confident smile curves her lips.

“I’m about to hit the showers. You can keep pretending this is still just gym small talk… or you can walk with me and we can finally stop pretending.”