Psylocke Vol 2 Ch 27: The Training From Hell!

I sprinted down the stairwell of the building, every step shaking beneath me like the whole place was ready to give out. The structure groaned from above, the smallest tremor enough to knock me off balance. I tumbled down a few steps, landing hard on my side. "Ow—damn it!"

Why—why—did she put me on the top of the tallest building in this fake city?

Before I could even get to my feet, I heard her voice again. Calm, unbothered, that same soft tone with a terrifying weight behind it.

"I'm done waiting."

I froze. "We just started!" I shouted, already knowing it wouldn't matter.

And then I felt it. A shadow swallowed the entire stairwell. I looked up—big mistake.

The top of the building disappeared, crumbling like sand under a wave. Cracks tore down the walls. The floor beneath me gave way with a deafening crunch, the air sucked out of the stairwell as it opened to the sky.

"Shit!" I hurled myself toward the nearest window, psychic energy sparking in my legs.

Here goes nothing!

Glass exploded around me as I flew through the air. The shock of cold wind slammed into my body, spinning me midair. I flailed, twisting to look back—only to see something massive sweeping down through the building I'd just leapt from.

A finger.

But not just any finger—it was hers. Naomi's. The details came into focus as it tore through the structure like a hot knife: deep lines like carved canyons, a flesh tone that spanned entire city blocks, the sheer weight of it sending ripples through the air.

The force of her touch alone kicked up a gust that knocked me higher into the sky. I screamed—what else could I do? I wasn't flying. I was being launched.

My back slammed against something solid but uneven. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to orient myself. Everything below me moved, shifted. The surface was...warm, alive. Moving with breath and subtle muscle twitches.

And that's when it hit me.

I was on her finger.

Not just near it. Not dodging it. I was on it. Stranded on the side of Naomi's finger like a speck on a skyscraper. I scrambled, trying to get a grip, but the scale was too large—every ridge in her skin was the size of a trench.

And then her voice returned, this time even closer.

"How pathetic," she said.

The world around me moved—no, tilted. I was pressed down against her skin by sheer g-force. My limbs flattened under invisible pressure. It felt like gravity itself had turned traitor.

She was lifting her hand. I could see it now—her massive eye moving into view, red-brown and all-encompassing, like a sun rising over the horizon.

Her gaze pinned me in place. There was no warmth there. Just calculation.

"Nothing but a bug," she said.

I tried to respond, to shout something—anything—but I was stunned. And then her lips crept into view.

They took up my entire field of vision. Glossed and glistening, those lips looked like crimson cliffs. They parted slowly, and for a second I thought she was going to speak again.

But instead... her tongue emerged.

My brain stopped working.

The sheer sight of it—wet, pink, the size of a blimp—was too much. It extended slowly, hovering toward me like some monstrous creature all its own.

"Oh, come on—!"

The world turned into a blur of color and motion as I was suddenly pushed back with such force that most of my bones, shaped like twigs. I tried to yell out, but as I opened my mouth, her tongue seemed to push itself in, along with her saliva.

The sensation was overwhelming. Everything was hot and sticky. The pressure of the tongue rolling over me was like being caught in a storm surge—sudden, forceful, disorienting, my body breaking with every passing second. I was pinned in a way I couldn't fight, twisted by momentum and slick friction. She was present all around me, my very world. 

I was broken, even if I wasn't trapped, I knew I still wouldn't be able to move, hard to believe that all of this was an illusion. 

Naomi's tongue curled, turning me helplessly in place. It was painful and humiliating as I found myself stuck to her tongue like a crumb of food. My strength—my power—was completely meaningless at this scale. I could barely focus, barely think, the disorientation and pain robbing me of even my sense of direction.

I struggled, pushed against the pink flesh and the syrupy saliva, trying to right myself, trying to breathe even though I could taste blood in my mouth. 

And then... I looked up.

A white ceiling was falling toward me. Endless, shining. It took me a second to realize—

It was her teeth.

"What the hell—" was all I managed before everything went white again.

I gasped.

One second, I was drowning in a sea of pink—twisted up in some surreal hurricane of taste buds and saliva—and the next, I was... on the ground?

Just... lying there. Flat on my back. No pain. No broken bones. Not even a scratch. My shirt wasn't even wrinkled.

"What the hell..." I muttered, sitting up and looking down at myself. I patted my arms, my chest, even wiggled my toes in my boots. Everything was intact.

It was like nothing had happened.

Well, nothing except for the psychological trauma of being licked by a being so massive that her tongue had more surface area than the city I'd grown up in.

"Round three," came the voice.

That damn voice.

Naomi's booming tone echoed from the heavens above, somehow as calm as it was terrifying. It wasn't like she was angry or even trying to intimidate me—she just was, and that was enough. Her voice carried with it the weight of gods. And in the worst way possible, I was getting used to it.

Then the sky went dark.

Literally.

I turned my head and looked up, and my entire body locked up. All the air left my lungs.

A shadow swept across the landscape like a fast-moving eclipse. A silhouette took shape in the sky, blotting out the sun. It was flat, massive, ridged... and getting closer.

It took me a second to realize I was staring at the bottom of a boot.

Naomi's boot.

Her sole was the size of a dozen cities. Every inch of it looked sculpted by tectonic plates. Deep grooves, rubber ridges like carved canyon walls, the faint outline of dust and debris collected from god-knows-where. It descended with casual, godlike indifference.

"Shit..." I muttered.

The air around me roared. Not wind. The air itself roared—torn apart by the sheer mass falling toward me. My ears popped. The ground began to tremble, then shake, then convulse under my feet.

I looked around for cover.

There was none.

The clouds above split apart like curtains before a stage, sunlight piercing through the cracks only to be devoured by the shadow of Naomi's boot. The sky didn't look like sky anymore—it looked like the end of everything.

I had a brief thought—maybe the last I'd ever have: This is truly hell.

I shut my eyes and braced myself.

BOOM!!!