Kim Possible Porn Story: Confessions of a Teenage Heroine – Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I
only own my villainesses and Shego’s parents, because apparently
Disney didn’t deem it necessary to give Shego parents in the series.

In my opinion,
there’s always going to be heroes. Before Kim Possible, there was us.
Before us, there was Team Impossible. Before Team Impossible, there
was someone else. Circle of Life theory.

A lot of people
don’t know this, but me and my brothers were once the greatest super
heroes in the world. The reason why few know of us is because Hego,
the twins, and I had all agreed it would be easier to be out of the
public eye and fight villains as privately as we could. In Go City,
though, we became big shots, practically gods. But very few that are
born in Go City leave Go City. It’s a curse.

My brothers
adored the attention. I hated it. It brought me nothing but misery.
People don’t realize how much crap us heroes have to deal with,
between villains and publicity and just wanting to live our lives.
What sucks about being a god is no one expects you to fall. You can
never make mistakes because your enemies will turn them against you.
Even our supposed “perfection” was turned against us last
year. Lives were lost and I feel guilty for not being about to save
them.

Knowing what I
know now; the social awkwardness, the inner conflict of being
“perfect”, the demand on your time and strength, would I do
it again? Heck yes. That crap they threw at me only made me stronger,
even though I couldn’t see it at the time. It shaped me into the
woman I am today. Plus, it was fun, I’ll give super-heroism that
much. That’s probably why my brothers were so shocked when I left; we
were having a ball screwing around, blaming why we were late for
dinner on being captured by an arch-nemisis or skipping school
because GJ needed us or “accidentally” shooting a death ray
to see what would happen. I think Hego sort of understood.

Life’s like a
concert; there are slow songs where you just sit still and listen to
the words and try to learn what you can from the lyrics. But most of
the concert is loud blasts of guitars and drums and screaming and
bright lights. Not everyone jumps around and dances, but hopefully
you feel the joy coursing through your veins and smile knowingly with
whoever you came with. What really matters is how you go home. Do you
stumble around singing the upbeat songs drunk off life thinking to
yourself “that was absolutely the greatest ride ever”? Or
do you drag your feet, muttering about how you’re half-deaf and only
thinking about the sad songs?

&&&

“…and
now our secretary will read the minutes,” I jerked out of my
half sleep and straightened.

“You
know, I really hate it when you call me that,” I said. Hego
grinned.

“I
know you do.”

FYI
to the world, Hego is not the Boy Scout he portrays whenever there’s
company around. He can be a major pain in the rear if he wants to,
but his sense of right and wrong usually stops him from being more.
Usually. I look down at my doodle-covered sheet outlining our last
meeting.

“Minute
one: meeting opened.”

“I
don’t think that’s how you do minutes. I think you do the actual
times of the events.”

“Don’t
tell me how to do my job unless you want to do it. You want to be the
supreme notetaker, Hego?”

“It’s
not supreme notetaker, it’s secretary, but anyways, proceed,” I
cleared my throat dramatically.

“Minute
two: Supreme notetaker reads last meeting’s outline. Minute four:
Discuss latest villain exploits, how we dealt with the situation,
what a better way to deal with the situation would be, and a lot of
other stuff Hego rambled on about while the twins played finger
football and Mego critiqued my doodles.”

“All
I’m saying is I draw better doodles than you.”

“They’re
doodles, Mego, not works of art. They’re supposed to be bad yet
cutesy. Minute Thirty-Six: Hego brings up the fact we don’t have a
team motto. Minute Thirty-Seven: The arguement begins. Minute
One-Hundred-Seventy-Two: Team motto is agreed on.”

“We
never agreed on a team motto,” Wego 1 objected.

“Me
and Shego did,” Mego and I smiled. You know, once you get past
Mego’s selfishness, he’s actually a pretty cool brother. But maybe
I’m only saying this because he isn’t Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes; he’s not
afraid to bend the rules like my other brothers. Hego sighed.

“”Life
sucks, then you die” is, for the last time, not a superhero team
motto.”

“I
got more votes than you did for your stupid “go-operation”
thing,” I pointed out.

“I
don’t even get that,” Wego 2 stated.

“It’s
a play off of co-operation, but since we’re Gos…” I trailed
off.

“I
thought it was like an operation, you know, like a military plan,”
Wego 1 said.

“Then
it would be Operation: Go, dingbat,” Mego rolled his eyes.

“Let’s
focus,” I said. Sometimes I wondered if they all had ADD.

“Yes,
today is a momentous occasion. Shego is turning sixteen today,”
I arched my eyebrow at Hego.

“You
remembered?”

“Of
course,” he scoffed.

“He
looked at your calender,” Wego 1 sold him out.

“That
makes sense. Now that you all know today’s my birthday, I want to say
I’m going for my license today. Don’t…screw…this…up,” I
said clearly so they could understand. They nodded, but I knew they’d
find some way to screw this up.

We
went downstairs and saw Mom had already left for work. Dad was in
jail, as usual. It’s sad how that was so normal to me. I swung my
backpack on and headed downstairs.

“Get
off to school on time, ya hear?” I called to the twins.

“We
will,” they said in unison. Mego and Hego went to the elevator
with me. Yeah, our house is actually a hotel converted into a major
business corporation remodeled into a supervillain layer. There is
nothing more awkward than your parents being supervillains when you
are a hero.

Good
thing they aren’t our supervillains or else we’d be grounded all the
time.

We
went to the garage. Hego and Mego got out their bikes. I jumped onto
Hego’s pegs.

“Get
your own ride!” He yelled.

“You
broke my bike, remember? Snapped the chain trying to see how fast a
bike with superstrength could go?”

“Fine,
whatever. Just don’t distract me,” I rolled my eyes. I’d like to
pull that card out when I got my license.

Yeah,
we don’t ride the bus. The school buses are for perverts (trust me,
especially in the back). Plus, riding a bike is more healthy and not
as slow as walking. We know our way around Go City pretty dang well.

Hego
turned off into the Go City High School’s parking lot. Mego went on
to the middle school, which was only a few blocks farther. Our high
school has about 1,500 students, so the place is swarming even though
it’s still ten minutes before first bell. But, of course, a red
convertible is waiting for me, stalling the traffic. Like she cared.

“I
don’t wanna get hit,” Hego muttered.

“I
understand,” I get off Hego’s pegs and he goes to the bike rack.
I stared down the red convertible. There was no way I could into
school without passing her. She revved the engine. I narrowed my
eyes. I dashed across the parking lot, but no matter how fast I run,
she always hits me. I hit the gravel, hard, but it was only my pride
that was seriously injured. I got up and brushed myself off.

“Retard!”
Tigress yelled, laughing as she drove away. Every. Single. Day. Well,
since she got her license. And, of course, Mischief had been a
witness.

“I
give her a 5. Her speed was good, but her impact was atrocious,”
Mischief said in Simon Cowell’s voice. She has a knack for voices, as
in she doesn’t have her own so she uses everyone else’s. She had a
short purple bob and hazel eyes.

“Missy,
leave her alone,” War Hawk said. She had black medium length
hair and lavender eyes.

“She
can’t help being slow,” Metaphor teased. Metaphor’s actual look
were snake-like scales and steel grey hair, but at school she morphed
into Eve Dawn, a petite brunette.

“Where’s
Golden Arrow?” I asked.

“Still
in juvie,” War Hawk said.

“You’re
kidding me? Tigress got out but didn’t bust Golden Arrow out?”
They were both assistants to Miss Mistress, an older villainess.

“You
know how selfish she is,” Metaphor said.

I
hang out with villainesses, then and now. They’re just funner to be
with, between the sarcastic banter and the sudden impulses to bend
(or break) the rules. It’s just really inconvienent because you never
know who’s going to be at school because of jail time. We go to my
locker to pick up my science textbook.

“Why
does Tigress love to torment me?” I asked, pulling a dead fish
out of my locker, “This isn’t even funny, it’s just gross.”

“You’re
fun to torment,” Mischief commented, sounding like Tigress. I
glared at her.

“Well,
you are. If you wouldn’t get ticked off all the time, maybe she
wouldn’t try to get your goat,” Metaphor said. I saw Tigress out
of the corner of my eyes.

“Don’t
do it; you’ll regret it,” War Hawk read my mind. However, the
fish was halfway airborne as she said this. It smacked Tigress in the
face, “She torments you because you go and do stupid, spiteful
things like that!” War Hawk said exasperantly.

“Spiteful,
maybe. Stupid? Nah,” I said just before Tigress tackled me.
Which is like being sacked by a freight train.

&&&

I
walked into first period, scratches on my face and bruises everywhere
else. Of course, this doesn’t escape Dr. Lipsky’s perceptive eyes.

“Did
you get in a fight with your cat?” He smirked. I glared at him.
I guess he’s cool, for a science teacher anyway, but he can be
annoying at times like these. He’s got this stupid half mullet, half
guy ponytail and a unibrow that looks like a caterpillar.

“Nah,
Tigress,” I didn’t feel like getting into it with him today. It
was one thing fighting in a lair, a way different thing to fight at
school, even though the defeat is just as painful. I sank into my
desk in the back of the room. He seemed like he was in a
pick-on-Shego mood. Scratch that; maybe it was just a pick-on-Shego
day. Scratch scratch that; maybe it was just a poor-me day.

The
rest of the day dragged by, as though even the clock was against me.
Finally, the final bell rang and I darted out of class. Mischief’s
purple Tracker was waiting. I Dukes-of-Hazzard slide across the hood
(surprisingly, it worked for once) and got in the passenger’s seat.

“Rite-of-passage
time,” Mischief said like Batman, grinning as widely as I was.

&&&&&

Wow,
okay, this is definetely not my best writing. Whether it was because
I wanted to introduce all the characters or I just wanted to rush
past the boringness, I can’t tell. Please review; it will get better.