Psylocke Vol 2 Ch 20: Holding Back The Approaching Mountain, Landing On The Brown Plains

Tristan stood hunched over on the vast wooden surface of the table, hands on his knees, sweat dripping from his forehead. His entire body ached from the so-called "warm-up" Zuri had put him through. His knuckles throbbed, his legs felt like jelly, and his mind was already screaming at him to take a break.

But no—Zuri wasn't about to give him a moment's rest.

The giantess sat miles away, or at least that's how it felt from his perspective. She rested her elbows on the table, leaning forward with that ever-present smirk plastered on her face. That smirk—the same one that had been getting under his skin since this whole mess started.

Her massive brown eyes locked onto him like a predator eyeing its prey. She was enjoying this way too much.

"Are you ready?" she purred, her voice vibrating through his bones as she extended her index finger outward.

Tristan took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand tall. He straightened his back, clenched his fists, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Yeah, let's do it."

Zuri's grin widened.

Then, the world rumbled.

Her enormous finger slid forward across the wooden surface, the sheer force of its movement causing the very air around Tristan to tremble. He felt the vibrations in his chest, his bones rattling as if an earthquake had just struck the table.

The approaching mountain of flesh was relentless, its size and power utterly overwhelming. The ridges of her fingerprint, deep enough to lose himself in, were now clear as day.

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, focusing.

Come on, come on...

This power—the psychic energy within him—it was getting easier to sense now. It wasn't just some abstract force hidden away inside of him. It was there, coursing through his veins, waiting to be commanded.

He willed it forward.

His entire body pulsed with energy as he reached out—not with his hands, but with his mind—directing every ounce of strength he had toward the unstoppable mass of Zuri's finger.

A force erupted from him, slamming against the approaching behemoth.

For a brief moment, he felt resistance.

The finger slowed.

Tristan's eyes widened in shock. I'm doing it!

But then—

The force behind Zuri's casual movement was too much. His energy wavered. His concentration flickered. And before he could recover—

Thump.

The massive wall of flesh gently tapped against his chest, sending him stumbling backward until he landed flat on his ass.

A beat of silence.

Then—

Zuri laughed.

Her giggles rolled through the air, shaking the very ground beneath him. "Aww, you almost had it that time!" she teased, tilting her head. "I felt it! For a second there, you really pushed back! But... welp." She shrugged. "Not quite enough, little guy."

Tristan groaned, flopping onto his back. His entire body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. He stared up at the sky—or rather, at Zuri's enormous, grinning face hanging over him like some kind of playful goddess.

"Well, damn," he muttered.

Zuri leaned in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Y'know, I could just move my finger a tiny bit slower if you really need it."

Tristan sat up immediately. "No."

Zuri blinked, surprised at his sudden determination.

"If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna do it right," he said, clenching his fists. "No easy mode."

Zuri's grin returned, her dark brown eyes gleaming with excitement. "Now that's what I like to hear."

Tristan took another deep breath, already mentally preparing for the next round. But first—

"Maybe, uh... a quick minute to catch my breath?" he asked, forcing a weak smile.

Zuri chuckled. "Fine. Sixty seconds."

Tristan groaned, but he'd take what he could get. As he sat there, rubbing his sore arms, he couldn't help but glance up at the titaness across from him. She may have been an overexcited pain in the ass, but she was actually pushing him. Harder than he'd ever been pushed before.

And for the first time, he truly felt like he was making progress.

Even if that progress still ended with him on his ass.

Tristan gritted his teeth, his arms outstretched, pushing against the colossal wall of flesh that was Zuri's fingertip. It was coming at him again, slow and deliberate—he could tell she was going easy on him. The thought annoyed him, but right now, he had bigger concerns.

His muscles trembled, his psychic energy flaring as he focused every ounce of his strength into stopping the approaching mass. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he refused to blink.

Come on... just a little more...

He could feel it. This time, there was a real pushback. The massive finger was slowing again, and unlike before, he wasn't losing his grip so easily.

But then—

A sudden surge of energy exploded from him, far stronger than anything he'd ever managed before.

"Wait, wait—!" he started, but it was too late.

With a sudden whoosh, the world flipped.

A gust of wind stronger than any hurricane sent him rocketing upwards, his entire body launched into the air as if fired from a cannon. The table blurred beneath him, his surroundings turning into a dizzying swirl of colors.

"Oh, shit—"

The wind rushed past his ears as he soared higher and higher. He had just enough time to think, This is going to suck, before gravity took over.

He plummeted.

The descent was faster than he liked—way too fast for his comfort. Panic clawed at his chest as he flailed, trying to slow himself down, but he had zero control over his trajectory.

And then—

POMF.

Instead of hitting hard wood, he landed on something... soft. The air still shot out of his lungs, but the impact wasn't nearly as deadly as he expected.

For a moment, he lay there, dazed, his body sinking slightly into the plush, warm surface beneath him. The texture was firm, yet bouncy—like a thick mattress but with a surprising amount of give.

"...What the hell?" he muttered, blinking groggily.

The ground beneath him shifted.

A tremor rolled through his surroundings, accompanied by a distant but unmistakable sound—booming giggles.

His heart stopped.

Slowly—very slowly—he lifted his head.

Above him, filling his entire sky, was Zuri's massive, smirking face.

And then he realized.

Oh, no.

Oh, hell no.

The firm-yet-soft terrain beneath him? The warm, slightly springy surface?

He was lying right on top of her breast.

A deep, sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

Zuri's golden-brown eyes twinkled with pure, unfiltered amusement as she grinned down at him. "Well, damn," she boomed, her voice shaking the very ground beneath him. "Didn't think you'd get that excited about training, little guy."

Tristan turned about three different shades of red.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Zuri, absolutely delighted by this, giggled again—a sound that sent tremors rippling through her chest. The movement caused Tristan to bounce slightly, making his entire situation so much worse.

"Welp," Zuri hummed, tilting her head playfully. "Looks like you overshot your mark there, buddy. But hey, no complaints on my end. You're getting closer to real power—and I got a free surprise out of it."

Tristan sat up, glaring at her with what little dignity he had left. "Yeah, fantastic," he deadpanned, still bright red. "I really aimed for this spot, totally intentional."

Zuri's smirk widened. "Oh, obviously. I mean, why go for my finger when you could land somewhere way more fun, right?"

Tristan groaned. He was never living this down.

With exaggerated care, Zuri lifted a single finger and poked him—gently, but with enough force to make him flop backward onto her chest.

"Comfy?" she teased.

Tristan bolted upright again. "Just get me the hell off of here!"

Zuri let out an exaggerated sigh. "Aww, you sure? I mean, I could just leave you there for a while. You did say no easy mode, after all."

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Zuri."

She snickered before finally reaching down with two fingers, plucking him up by his shirt. She held him between her fingertips, lifting him high enough that he was back at eye level with her.

"Fine, fine," she relented, still grinning. "Let's get you back to the table before you end up on another unexpected adventure."

As she gently placed him back down, Tristan let out a long breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His heart was still hammering, his face still burning.

Zuri, meanwhile, was very clearly still enjoying herself.

"You know," she mused, resting her chin on her hand again, "if you ever get tired of training, you could always take up a career as a personal masseuse. I wouldn't mind."

Tristan shot her a flat look. "Pass."

She laughed again. "Suit yourself."