Kim Possible Porn Story: This Animal I Have Become Chapter 1

Kim Possible Porn Story: This Animal I Have Become Chapter 1

Usual
discliamers here. I don’t own anything. Never have, most likely never
will.

Please
checkout the first story at 2983607/1/Youve_got_another_thing_comin

That will
make this an easier read

Song “This
Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Chapter 1
This animal I have become

Ron looked up
and saw Warhok reach down and pick up Kim, holding her upside down by
one leg. When he heard Warhok offer to have her mounted in the trophy
room, for the first time, Ron allowed the Mystical Monkey Power free
reign. His brown eyes started glowing a cool azure. Rising to his
feet, he held his right hand out to his side and murmured, Lotus
Blade. With a BAMPF of displaced air, the blade appeared in
his hand.

I can’t
escape this hell
So many times I’ve tried
But I’m still caged
inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control
myself

The sound drew
the attention of the potential conquerors. And where before there was
someone they dismissed as a buffoon, there now stood a threat. An
armed threat. What he intended to do with a sword against two of the
greatest warriors of Lowardia was anyones guess. Looking at him
was strange. It was like looking through a pane of glass that had a
layer of water flowing across it. His image was wavering and
surrounded by a dim blue haze.

So what if
you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this
animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody
help me tame this animal!
This animal, this animal

The Warrior with
the Blade was standing with his right side facing the pair. The sword
held low to his left in a strange reversed grip. His eyes were
downcast, looking at the ground just in front of them. Then he spoke
in a calm, quiet, chilling voice, If you wish to live, GENTLY, set
her down, board you ship and leave.

Warmonga placed
herself in front of the Warrior with her hands on her hips, asking
with a snarky voice, Or what? I remember you from the last time.
And even the false Great Blue called you a Buffoon. So I ask you
again. Or. What.

I can’t
escape myself (I can’t escape myself)
So many times I’ve lied (So
many times I’ve lied)
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody
get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself

The eyes blazed
from the cool azure to an incandescent blue/white and the Blade took
on the same fierce glow. His image blurred for an instant and the
only reason Warhok was able to track the Blade was its glow. Three
strokes, the first vertical moving upwards, the second from right to
left just below shoulder height, the last back across right above the
hips.

So what if
you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this
animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody
help me tame this animal I have become

Help me believe
it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal

And Warmonga,
the only female he had ever cared about, one of the greatest warriors
of Lowardia, second only to himself, fell to the ground in ten
pieces. Her wounds cauterized by the Blade, The vertical stroke had
bisected her body and the two lateral strokes had separated the arms
from the shoulders and hands from the wrists, while cutting her torso
into three sections.

That., the
Warrior answered matter-of-factly. Shifting his attention to the
remainder of pair. Still in the quiet, bone-chilling voice, he
repeated his warning. If you wish to live, GENTLY, set her down,
board you ship and leave.

Looking aghast
at the remains of his lover his expression changed to one of fury.
Flipping the female in his hand over and grabbing her by the front of
the blue and white suit she was wearing, Warhok hurled her it the
Warrior, and leapt after her at the Warrior screaming his rage.

Somebody help
me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself
Somebody wake
me from this nightmare
I can’t escape this hell

Something
strange happened then. He saw the Warrior catch the female, and the
next instant, the world was tumbling. He landed on his side, but it
was weird, he didnt feel the impact. He couldnt even feel the
ground. Seeing the Warrior enter his range of vision, he tried to
leap up to crush the killer of his mate. But he couldnt move.

The much smaller
Warrior reached down, grabbed him by the back of the head and lifted
him to eye level, with no effort at all. He looked into the eyes of
his enemy with ruthless, remorseless, pitiless eyes and with a voice
as cold as space spoke. You know dude, its strange the things
you can learn from TV. Like the fact that it takes 3-4 minutes for
the brain to die from lack of oxygen. Or that the eyes and ears,
unlike everything else in the body, are wired directly into the
brain.

This animal,
this animal
This animal, this animal
This animal, this
animal
This animal

Warhok was
starting to get an inkling of where this was going. For the first
time in years, Warhok, conqueror of worlds, a scourge of space, the
bane of more then a few civilizations, knew fear at the hands of a
Warrior less then half his size.

That means,
that if it happens fast enough, when you cut off someones head,
they can still see and hear you. The Warrior turned him to look at
his own twitching headless body. The last thing he heard was the
space cold voice close to his ear, telling him. I warned you.

So what if
you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this
animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody
help me tame this animal I have become

And the world
faded to black for Warhok, Warrior of Lowardia.

After looking at
the lifeless eyes of his enemy, Ron casually tossed the head aside.
Looking at the crumpled form of his soul mate, he knew she would
never look at him with her shimmering emerald orbs again. He had
known it the instant Warhok had thrown her. Her neck at an unnatural
angle.

He screamed his
pain and frustration. Finished he looked at his dead and defeated
enemies. Something occurred him. They conquered the world, no
theyve conquered worlds. And I conquered them. That means

Help me
believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this
animal!
This animal I have become

Raising his arms
overhead, holding the sword in his right hand, he laughed as he saw
his arms and hands changed from the normal skin tone to a malevolent
blue.

Haha,
hahehehe, ABOOYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

**********

In his bed, eyes
twitching violently behind his eyelids with the unmistakable signs of
REM sleep, Ron Stoppable tossed and turned in the grips of the
nightmare.

As the vision
reached it conclusion, he snapped awake with a scream. Looking
fearfully around to see that he was in his room. Not the battlground
the outskirts of Middleton had been three months ago. Not knowing
what else to do and feeling terribly alone, he hugged his pillow to
his chest and sobbed. He had been alone for close to two months, ever
since he and Kim had split up. She just couldnt understand how he
could have killed the Lowardians, and the fact he had no choice
didnt seem to be a good enough reason.

The last mission
they had gone on hadnt helped. Dementor, trying to take advantage
of the choas surrounding the aborted invasion, had tried another
whack plan to capture the Pan Dimensional Vortex Inducer. When Team
Possible had arrived to stop him, things got out of hand. Kim had
been slightly off her game since the invasion, and Ron had been wound
tighter than a lute string. It started off fine, until one of
Dementors Henchmen had gotten lucky at the same time as Kims focus
slipped. Landing a hit with his stave, he slammed her into the wall
hard enough to rattle her teeth. She was stunned, but she wasnt
completely out.

Thats when
she saw Ron go berserk. In a span of two minutes, he had either
brutally disabled or mercifully knocked out the remaining Henchmen.
Then he turned his attention to Dementor.

Dementor had
heard reports that The Buffoon had defeated the invaders, but
dismissed them as either fabrications or disinformation to frighten
the villainous community. He was wrong. When Ron focused on Dementor,
the short Bavarian came to the conclusion that, if anything, the
reports had been understated.

Ron had taken
one of the Henchmens staves and was standing there holding it in an
attack stance, eyes glowing a malignant blue. Dementor turned to run
but he hadnt taken two steps before he felt something crash into
his side with enough force to break his ribs. The next blow rang his
steel helmet hard enough to dent it. The second blow had knocked him
over onto his back. Looking up he saw The Buffoon holding the
stave over his head, ready to drive it through his skull when he
heard a feminine voice scream, ROOONNN.

Like a switch
being thrown, the malignancy faded from his eyes, leaving a warm
azure. Snapping his head to where she lay, he appeared to teleport to
her side. He let go of the stave and moved so fast the he got there
at the same time it hit the ground. Wrapping her in his arms, he
cried, knowing she was safe.

Someone at GJ
had leaked the video of the mission to the media, and while the
newsies still got his name wrong, every single one their normal
adversaries had gotten the message. Hurt Kim Possible at the risk of
your own life. Because if you do, The Buffoon would make you
pay. Dearly. He was on video tape brutally and ruthlessly taking out
a squad of HenchCos best in less then two minutes without taking a
scratch, bump or bruise. They might still have called him The
Buffoon, but now they said it with fear. And only because they
didnt know his name.

That was the
final straw for Kim though. In their entire career no one had gotten
seriously hurt. And in the span of less then a month, her partner had
permantly disabled seven Henchmen, hospitalized another eight, sent
Dementor to the hospital where they had to set his ribs and cut off
his helmet to relieve the pressure on his brain and killed the two
aliens.

She cut off all
contact with Ron until they had time to think things over. That was
nearly two months ago.

In the time
since his only support had come from his Mothers brother, Roger. It
wasnt that his parents didnt want to help, they just didnt
know how. Uncle Rog had showed up one day about a week after the
split. Ron hadnt seen Kim in 7 or 8 days by then and hadnt
slept in longer. The nightmares were keeping him up.

Dragging Ron
back to his place, Roger took him to the garage and slapped a wrench
in one hand and a tall frosty beer in the other. When Ron looked at
the beer funny, Roger said. Shut up and drink it or Ill kick
your ass. You cant be a shade tree mechanic without a beer.

Mechanic?
What are you talking about Uncle Rog?

This. with
that short statement he walked to the far corner of the garage. He
pulled a cover off of a car that had been there as long as Ron could
remember. The car was so old Ron had no idea about the make or model.
When he questioned his older relative about it, he got a weird
answer.

This is Elma
Lee.

Huh?

Dont ask.
Really long story. But to answer your question, Ronnie. This is a
1964 Ford Galaxie 500, four door. Used to belong to your Grandpap. I
drove during and after high school. She might not have been the
fastest car in Middleton, but she always did me right. HEHEHE, check
this out.

Roger went to
the drivers side, opened the door and sat on the LONG, WIDE bench
seat. The seat back had no head rests. Watch closely. He
reached to the side of the bench and pulled a lever causing the front
seat back to lower until it was level with the rear bench. The result
was nearly as big as a queen sized bed. HAHAHAHA, like I said, she
wasnt the fastest, but she always did me right.

WHOA! was
the only response Ron could come up with.

Dig this,
Hehe, the guy your Grandpap bought the car from, yeah, he decided the
original 390 wasnt big enough and replaced it.

WHAT? Whats
in there then?

Take a look.
Opening the hood, Roger could see Ron had no idea what he was looking
at.

Ronnie, this
is 428 CobraJet. When I got the car, I took off the four barrel Holly
and manifold. I replaced it with three Carter 400s. Triple Deuce.
A Six Pack. 1200 Cubic Feet a Minute up top and and a set of waste
gate underneath, three/quarter cam, dual exhaust and a Dynatrack
rearend. This was years before turbos and computer chips. We made our
power the old fashioned way. A lot a Cubes, a lot a air and a lot a
fuel.

Ol Elma
Lee here use to take off like a rocket sled. Her only problem was,
she was a sled alright, a lead sled. She couldnt take a corner for
shit. I always meant to give her to your cousin, but you know what
happened there. And Ron did too, when he was about 7 or 8 his
cousin had been hit by a drunk driver. And now while Roger might
drink, he was rabid on the subject of DUIs.

Looking down the
length of the car, Roger started getting nostalgic. I met your
Aunt in this car. Hehehehe, theres a good chance your cousin was
conceived in this car. Roger was getting wistful now. But when
we got married, I had to park her. I couldnt afford the gas and
insurance. I had a family.

Running his hand
along the front fender, he continued, I couldnt be driving
around in a hot rod all the time. I almost sold her a bunch a times.
But every time I thought about it, your Aunt talked me out of it. So
now here she sits. Every year a little more rust, a little more dry
rot, a little more deterioration.

Looking at Ron
with a wide cheesy grin he said, But your gonna help me change all
that.

Wide-eyed, Ron
looked back at his Uncle. Uhhh, I dont know Uncle Rog, I mean,
me and tools dont get along too well. Are you sure you want my
help?

Taking a long
pull from his beer Roger gave Ron a hard look and pointing at him
with the bottle. Arent you the one who nearly took over the
world with the Mega Weather Generator. The one you built by yourself.
Or built a catapult out of the shop classes table saw. Come on
Ronnie, dont try to B.S. me. I know better. Now, lets get busy.

Roger gave Ron a
set of coveralls to protect his clothes and forced Ron to do most of
the work while he directed, explained and fetched. During that time
they talked about anything and everything. A few hours and SEVERAL
beers later, Ron could dimly remember Rogers question, Hey
Ronnie, dont you have a car?

Ron was slurring
badly by now. Noooope, had a scoooooteeeer for while.

Why not?

Can ford one,
use jus ride everwhere wid KaaayPeeeee. Sigh Not ne more
though.

Hmmm, You got
fifty bucks?

Checking his
wallet, all Ron found was two twenties and a five. Roger snatched the
money, saying. Good nough. Here. and he stuffed a folded piece
of paper into Rons wallet.

A little later
Roger walked to the phone on the wall. Picking it up he dialed a
number. Steve, its Rog. Hey, do me favor? Ive been drinking,
give Ron a ride home? 20 minutes? Thanks. Pushing the switch to
hang up, he released it and dialed another number. Barb, its
Roger. Listen, I got Steve bringing Ron home. Because we been
drinking, why do you think. Course I did. Yea, but I bet he sleeps
tonight. Look, when he gets home just pour him into bed. Hehe, you
might wanna leave a few bottles of water and some Tylenol on his
nightstand. Yeah, Ill clean im up before I send im home. Ill
swing by and pick him in the morning. Alright. Night Barb, Ill see
ya tomorrow.

Hanging up the
phone, he turned back to the car. Ron was laying across the fender
with his tongue in the corner of his mouth, patiently trying to fit a
distributor wrench through to remove the bolt in the hold-down.
Without much success. Shaking his head Roger called Hey Ronnie.
When Ron looked up all bleary eyed, chuckling Roger added, Come
on, lets get you cleaned up. Your mom will have my guts for
garters if I send ya back looking like that. Thanks to the heat
they had both removed their shirts. Ron was covered past the elbows
in grease and grime. He also had streaks on his face and torso.

Ron followed to
the outside of the garage where Roger had a sink installed under the
carport. Squirting a liberal amount of GoJo into Rons hands, he
had him scrub the pumice loaded cleaner up to his shoulders. Using a
milder soap they cleaned their torsos and faces. Getting Ron out of
the coveralls proved tricky, but Roger had experience with more then
one bender. His wife went on one after the death of their son. He was
two years straightening that out, while he was dealing with his own
grief. They nearly divorced over it.

When Steve
Barkin got there and saw the state Ron was in, he jokingly threatened
Roger. Rog, I oughta call Officer Hobble about this.

Gone was the
affable Uncle Rog. In his place stood a grim figure with a military
bearing. Go ahead, Ill deal with it. The boy needed some sleep
and something else to think about. Since that stupid female he was
hanging with cant help him, I will!

Rog, I was
just joking.

Mnnnggggggg,
I know. But I read the reports, what the fuck else did she expect him
to do. The boy had no choice.

I know, Rog.
But shes all caught up in with Thou shall not kill, know
what I mean.

Roger growled
Thats not how the sixth Commandment translates from the Hebrew,
and you bloody fucking well know it. It translates as Thou shalt
not murder, there a difference.

I know. Look,
let me get Ron home. Youve been drinking, you gonna be OK?

Steve, whens
the last time you seen me stupid drunk?

Barkin replied
with a rueful grin. Bout ten years.

Yep, so
whats that tell ya.

Hehe, fine.
See ya tomorrow?

Yeah Ill
be here most of the day, except for when I go to pick up Ronnie to
work on his car.

Barkin was
stunned. Rog, you didnt.

With a wide grin
Roger answered, Sure did. I had a friend of mine pop over, hes
a notary. Title is signed, sealed and delivered. Its in Ronnies
wallet now.

Rog, your
wife would roll over I her grave if she knew you sold that car. She
loved it as much as you did.

Yes, she did.
And, no, she wouldnt. And thats because I gave it to Ronnie. He
might have only been a nephew in law to her, but she loved that boy,
almost as much as our own son.

Hehehe,
alright, Ill see ya tomorrow.

See ya later,
Steve.

Barkin helped
Mrs. Stoppable get Ron into his bed and pulled off his shoes. She
thanked the exMarine for his help while muttering about nitwit
brothers. For the first time since the invasion though, hed slept
through the night and into the morning. He woke up with a blinding
headache that seemed to be centered just behind his left eye. But
other then the headache he felt better then he had in weeks. With all
the junk in Rons wallet, it was two weeks before he found the
title. Stuck between some Bueno Bucks and a Smarty Mart Coupon.

But the
nightmares were getting worse. And tonight had been the worse yet. So
Ron curled up to his pillow and sobbed.

**********

A few blocks
away, a young woman sat in her bed, with her back to the headrest and
her knees pulled to her chest. She was wearing a red and black hockey
jersey and clutching a plushie. It was a weird mixture of a panda and
kangaroo.

Both the jersey
and the plushie were tokens of someone she thought she knew better
then anyone. Better then her parents, her brothers, even better then
herself. But did she really know him. After all, he had done
something she would have never thought him capable of. He had killed
other sentient beings. How could he have done that.

And the worst
part for her was, as many times as she had gone through the sitch,
she couldnt find a better solution. They aliens had stopped the
worlds militaries, Shego and Drakken and her. The only one that
stopped them was a goofy, tow headed young man. Even capturing them
most likely would have failed, because they had the innate strength,
skills and motivation to escape any cells humanity could have
devised.

They had been
given more then enough chances to leave and refused. They were bent
on conquering the planet, and the only way anyone had found to stop
them, was his solution.

This was more
then a blow to her worldview. It shattered it. She had never been
faced with the idea that the only way to win, was to kill. And she
didnt know how to handle it. She knew Ron was hurting. She had
been at the campus last week, getting ready for the upcoming semester
when a man, just above average height stopped her.

Miss
Possible, may I speak with you a moment? From his look and
bearing, he was either Military or exMilitary, and definitely blue
collar. She recognized him from somewhere, but she wasnt sure
where.

Kim was vain
enough to know she was an attractive young woman, so when this older
man approached her she was on guard. Do I know you?

Not really,
Mam, but you know my nephew. Ron. You need to talk to him. Hes
hurting, badly. And your cutting off your relationship like you did
isnt helping things. He needs your help and support. Desperately.

Hearing the name
of her best friend, partner and semi-ex, she didnt know what to
say or do. Here was someone she didnt really know calling her on
the very same things her parents and friends had mentioned. Monique
had threatened try and steal him away. Bed him if necessary. What
ever it took to help Ron. Barkin had been livid and told her that Ron
was suffering PTSD and the thing he needed most was her support, and
he wasnt getting it.

So she sat in
her bed, crying for a loss she didnt know how to articulate and
for the lack of a presence she needed and didnt have.

Unknown to the
both of them help was on the way.

**********

Crossing the
Eastern Seaboard at 40,000 feet was a cargo transport. A huge Antonov
124. The largest regularly flying aircraft in the world. It was even
bigger then the American C-5 with 25% more carrying capacity. This
massive aircraft regularly flew around the world, delivering cargo to
differing locations. Always flying to the west allowed to have a
slightly higher ground speed.

To insure the
maximum amount of air time it had accommodations for two flight
crews, working in 12 hour shifts. They would spend one week on and
one week off, switching crews at its home base near Hamburg, Germany.

It had left
Hamburg, Germany earlier flying to one of only two scheduled
destinations in the United States on this circuit. A base outside of
Yuma, Arizona, where it would discharge most of its cargo before
flying on to another base near Seattle, Washington to fill the
cavernous cargo bay again.

ETA to the Yuma
base was oh-three-thirty with an expected ground time of 4 to 6
hours. The Chief had deadlined the front cargo door until he could
make repairs. Either in the air or on the ground. Either way, it
might slow them, but it wouldnt stop them. Most of the cargo was
destined to remain in Yuma. But a tiny fraction of it and two
passengers would leave the Yuma base and continue on to a small town
in Colorado called Middleton.

A.N.

The car
mentioned was real. Was my Grandmothers, bought by my Grandpa. And I
did the exact same thing to it. I ruled the Drive-in in High School

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