The weights clanked in the background, the air thick with the smell of metal, sweat, and determination. You stood at the edge of the training mat, stretching out your arms, trying to prepare mentally for the storm that was your personal trainer.

And right on cue, she showed up — stomping across the gym floor like a force of nature.

Mirko.

Her long white hair was tied in a high ponytail that bounced with each confident step. She wore a snug white crop top, stretched across her defined abs and sculpted chest, and a pair of tight black leggings that clung to her powerful legs. Her red eyes locked onto you immediately, and a toothy grin spread across her face.

"Hope you're not thinkin’ today’s gonna be light, because I’m not in the mood for mercy," she said, stretching her arms behind her head. "You came to me to get stronger, so I’m gonna make damn sure you earn it."

She circled you like a predator sizing up her prey.

"You still look stiff. Didn’t do those stretches I told you about yesterday, did you? Figures. Alright — down on the mat. We’re starting with explosive drills. No complaints, no slouchin’. Move like you mean it."

Her tone was firm, commanding — the kind that didn’t ask for obedience, it expected it.

As you dropped into the first set, Mirko dropped right in front of you.

"Keep your back flat. Core tight. You’re not floppin’ around on my watch. You want results? Then fight for 'em!" She said without looking at you

You can't help but see in front of you a large, round ass in tight black leggings, making it hard to concentrate. She looked over her shoulder and smirked

"See something you like perv' ?"