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Psylocke Vol 2 Ch 39: A Nightly Vision!
🕑 Added 2025-08-10 23:11:28 +0000 UTCAlright... so here's how it went down from my perspective. I told her straight up—I wanted to go back to my room. Simple. Direct. Zero room
Alright... so here's how it went down from my perspective.
I told her straight up—I wanted to go back to my room. Simple. Direct. Zero room for misinterpretation.
Kayla did not like that answer.
"Aww, come on," she practically whined, leaning forward until her massive shadow swallowed me whole. Her chest brushed against the nightstand, and the whole world shook like someone had just slammed a freight train into it. I lost my balance instantly—no chance to recover—and toppled over the edge.
You know those moments when you're falling and your brain just stops doing useful things? Yeah. That was me. I barely had time to scream before I hit the wood floor with a smack that rattled my teeth.
I rolled over groaning, looking up at this mile-tall woman peering down at me like I was the last cookie in the jar.
"I can't," I told her, brushing myself off. "I'm with Grace."
Her smile turned sly. "That shouldn't matter. Lillis and Brobs both believe in harems."
"That's an old rule," I shot back without hesitation.
She crouched down a bit, the movement making her hair sway like an avalanche overhead. "Old, but a good one," she purred. Then she puckered her lips—just slightly—and let out a tiny puff of air.
Well, tiny for her. For me, it was like being hit by a sudden gust from a storm. I went tumbling backwards, rolling helplessly across the nightstand's surface like a bottlecap caught in a wind tunnel.
I scrambled to my feet again. "Why do you even want to 'have fun' with me in such an... inappropriate way?" I asked, throwing my arms out in exasperation.
Her cheeks turned pink. "Because," she said, her voice dropping a little, "I've always dreamed of having a massive harem of boys and girls." She actually started drooling—full-on drooling—as her eyes glazed over like she was picturing it.
Then she stood, her enormous frame shaking the floor with each step, and undid the knot on her white towel. It slipped off her shoulders and hit the ground with a deep boom that I felt in my chest.
She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, all confidence. "Come on, don't you think my body is inviting enough?"
I swallowed hard—loud enough that I was sure she heard it—but I still shook my head. "Nope."
Her lips curled into a pout. "Ah, poo." With that, she flopped backward onto her bed, the impact making the mattress springs groan and the air in the room jump.
From my spot on the floor, I just stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how in the world my life had turned into rejecting a skyscraper-sized woman who could kill me with a sneeze.
I think I preferred the training.
***
(A few Minutes Later)
Kayla came back into view still dripping from her shower, now wearing short shorts and a white sports bra that left about as much to the imagination as a clear glass of water. She had that look — the one where she knew exactly what she was doing — as she bent down and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
"Alright, room time," she said, like she was doing me a favor.
In a few long strides, she carried me back to my place and set me down on the tiny nightstand beside my bed. The thing was made for a Gulliverian — which meant to her, it was about as impressive as a dollhouse accessory. I walked over to the little Lilliputian door, my own personal "front entrance," and she followed my every move with those ocean-blue eyes.
"You know," she said, voice dropping into that husky tone that meant trouble, "watching you go into such a microscopic little house... it turns me on to no end."
I glanced up at her and smirked. "Happy to hear."
She tilted her head like I'd just confirmed a theory. "Goodbye then, Tristan." She straightened, and the view of her shifted from "looming over me" to "entire horizon full of woman" as she turned toward the exit. Her bare feet slapped against the wooden floor in heavy, lazy thuds.
"Good night and see you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder, smiling like she knew something I didn't.
"Y-yeah. See you tomorrow."
Once she was gone, the room felt... still. Smaller. I stepped inside my little space, shut the door behind me, and threw myself onto the bed. It took hours for my mind to slow down enough to even think about sleep — every sound in the distance felt like it carried her footsteps again. But eventually, I drifted.
That's when I heard it.
The sound of footsteps. Fast, sharp. Someone running. But the hall they ran down wasn't mine — it was pitch black, stretching so far into the dark I couldn't see the end.
I stayed still, listening. The steps got louder. Closer.
And then, from the shadows, someone broke into the light.
Grace.
Her hair was pulled back, her chest rising and falling as if she'd been running for her life. Her eyes locked on me for just a second — a flash of something like relief — before an unseen force slammed into her, tackling her to the ground.
"You're not getting away this time," a voice hissed from the darkness, low and certain.
I tried to move, to shout, but I couldn't. I was rooted there, useless, as the shadows swallowed them both.
I woke up with my heart pounding like I'd just run the hall myself. The room was dark — still late. Too late.
"It was just a dream," I whispered to myself. My voice didn't sound convinced.
I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling I couldn't quite see, repeating the same words again.
"It was just a dream."
