Kim Possible Porn Story: Confessions of a Teenage Heroine Chapter 2

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.

“Dear God, please help Shego with
her driving test so she can be coolio and drive like the rest of us
’cause she’s kind of the youngest of our group. Plus, she doesn’t
want to get run over by Tigress every morning. Amen,” Mischief
looked up, her grin matching the little girl’s voice she had prayed
in. So what if praying was politically incorrect? We all like someone
to listen to us and help us out.

“Why am I so nervous? I fly the
jet all the time,” I reasoned. We were sitting in the parking
lot, early to my driver’s test appointment. She shrugged, popping in
a cd.

“Don’t worry, Shego. I’ll get
those jitters right out of you. Close your eyes and breathe slowly
and deeply. In, out, in, out,” Mischief sounded like a yoga
instructor, if yoga instructors had their own voice. I did close my
eyes and breathe deeply. And then, blasting through her radio and
giving me a heart attack, the beginning of “Eye of the Tiger”
rocking her little Tracker.

“AIR GUITAR!” She screamed at
me like that lead singer of KISS. I laughed, and then started moving
my fingers like I had a guitar. We head-banged to the sound of the
long intro and then screamed the lyrics at the top of our lungs. That
was the great thing about Mischief; nothing was too crazy. She never
thought about what others thought when they looked at her (it was a
good thing no one ever told her, either). She was just so easy to
hang out with.

I was too exhausted to worry by the
time my appointment came. My throat ached from “singing”
along five times and I was sure I was getting a headache. My
cellphone was going off as we turned the radio off, my ringtone at
the time being “I’m Too Sexy”. Mischief grabbed the phone
from me.

“No distractions while you’re
driving,” she sounded just like my mom, turning it off.

“It was War Hawk, though.”

“Wishing you good luck. Now, come
on, your rite of passage awaits,” she practically dragged me to
the door. I signed in and my…what would you call them? Tester?
Whatever, I’m not a linguist. The tester came for me. Mischief
scooped me up in a bone-crushing hug, wishing me good luck in 50
different languages.

We went outside where my test vehicle
was awaiting me. It wasn’t any kind I knew of, it just looked like a
regular old car. I was aware of Mischief waving eagerly, both hands
above her head, but the nerves were starting to hit.

“Where’s the course?” I
asked, trying to sound casual as I slid into the driver’s seat.

“The city is the course,” The
woman responded, clipboard in hand. She was probably perfectly nice,
but it didn’t matter who was in that passenger’s seat. I was
convinced they were my enemy.

Everything was second nature; my seat
belt, my mirrors, everything else. But I was doing that horrible
double-guessing thing that most people do when they’re put under
pressure. Am I really doing this right? I wondered. Have I been
driving wrong this whole time? But I went with my instincts anyway.
Didn’t matter whether it was right or wrong, I had never crashed.
Well, the time that Electronique messed with the engine didn’t really
count because it wasn’t my fault. The test woman gave me simple
instructions; U-turn here, yield there. I politely refused whenever
she gave me a command I knew was wrong. After those false commands,
she’d smile. I didn’t dare look at the clipboard, but judging her
reaction I was doing great.

And then, the test woman’s cell phone
went off. No big deal, right? I just kept driving, curbing the urge
to turn on the radio.

“Hello?…Um, she’s in her
driver’s test right now. How did you get this number?…Can’t it
wait; she only has a few more blocks…Shego, could you please pull
over? This girl wants to talk to you,” I parallel-parked where I
knew it was legal and took the phone from her.

“Hello?”

“Shego, get out of the car and get
over to 36th street.”

“Chloe, I can’t right now.”

“Yes you can, Shego. Listen, your
brothers are being held hostage because they tried to take on Dad
without you. I tried to explain to Dad that you were busy and then he
said busy how? I told him you were taking a test, he asked what kind
of test?”

“I’m loosing points here,” I
said urgently, glancing over at the test woman.

“Long story short, it’s either you
get to 36th street with your brothers or we’re going to have to come
after you.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Hope this doesn’t ruin your
score.”

“Oh, it will,” I hung up,
sighing.

“Who was that?” The test
woman asked as I pulled out of my parking space, handing her back her
cellphone.

“Arch nemesis’s sidekick slash
BFF. Can I go drop you off real quick at the driver’s license place
and go save the city?” She was silent.

Someone was going to die for this.

I took the fastest route back, which
turned out to be filled with traffic. I growled, knowing I couldn’t
honk the horn without a major deduction to my already falling score.
Instead, I thought nastily of the revenge I was going to give to my
brothers when I got my hands on them. They probably did crap like
this on purpose.

“Oh my gosh!” The test woman
shrieked. I casually looked to my left. Gracefully, War Hawk glided
to a landing, her long royal purple feathers folding back under the
skin of her arms. She tapped at my window and I rolled it down.

“Bad traffic?” She joked,
easily walking beside the car as we inched forward.

“Did you see what was causing it?”

“Oh, I know what caused it. Dad
got angry, found the Thanksgiving Day Turkey balloon, and crashed it
into a poultry processing plant just a few blocks ahead.”

“You know, I’d understand if
turkeys were endangered but seriously, a few turkeys on Thanksgiving
are just keeping the population in check.”

“I know, but this is Dad,”
she shrugged. She glanced in the car, “Are you deducting Shego
for this?” The test woman shook her head.

“I have to say, I’ve been doing
this for eighteen years and I have never been in such a strange
situation. I don’t know what to do,” she laughed. And then, as
if the rest of my driver’s test couldn’t get anymore random, a big
glop of condor crap landed on the windshield. Now that was a driving
hazard. I pointed at War Hawk.

“Your condor, your mess.”

“It’s Dad’s stupid condor. Your
driving test, your mess, but that was a nice shot,” War Hawk
laughed. In response, I accidentally rolled up the window with her
arm hanging inside the car.

&&&

Long story short, I let War Hawk
scream at me a bit before I released her and pulled over. We fought,
I freed my good-for-nothing brothers, saved the city single-handedly
from Avarius (again), and went back to my driver’s test. She passed
me because I was “clear-headed even under the circumstances”.
What she meant was she was amazed I could drive legally while being
shot at with a plasma ray and my vision blocked by bird feces.

But I still had to clean up after
Avarius’s condor and War Hawk was sent to juvie. And I had my eyes
closed during my driver’s license picture.

I thought everyone had forgotten my
birthday by the time I got home. But Mom was waiting with my
favorite, German chocolate cake and chocolate chip mint cookie dough
ice cream (it’s impossible to find in stores; you have to make it),
for dinner! This cheered me up immediately, actually dissolving my
vendetta to my brothers. I hadn’t failed my driver’s test, after all.

“Mom, why are you grinning?”
I asked suspiciously, checking my cake for laxatives. The boys had
finished long ago and gone to their video games.

“Can’t I be happy for my
daughter?” She asked, that sinister grin on her face that I
inheirited. She hugged me and kissed my forehead.

“I’m having cake and ice cream for
dinner, you’re not yelling at me for not cleaning my room… you’re
making up for not getting me any presents, aren’t you?” She
sighed.

“Well, if you want me to spoil the
surprise…I couldn’t wrap it, so I just put it in the garage,”
she took my plate away, “You want seconds?”

“What exactly is my present? No
thank you.”

“You want me to spoil it?”

“Yes,” she sighed, putting my
plate in the sink.

“It’s a car.”

“A CAR?! YOU’RE LYING?!” I
squealed, running for the garage. My car! My very own car! Oh my
gosh! I didn’t even care if it was ugly, it was mine! My own car!

I threw open the door to the garage
and turned on the light. My excitement crashed to a dead hault, Mom’s
laughter mocking me. My car…or what seemed to be a car. All over
the garage floor were parts to some kind of motorized vehicle. My
hands balled up into fists as Mom came up gasping behind me, wiping
tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, honey, I just couldn’t
help it… It’s better than paying for it, isn’t it?” I spun to
Mom feeling anger and sadness ball in my throat.

“Mom, I can make money. I don’t
know how to put a car together,” I whined. The amusement left
her eyes as she saw my distress.

“This is a learning experience,
Shego. Now you’ll know how to fix it if it breaks.”

“If it runs!” I yelled,
storming away.

“Shego, don’t you raise your voice
at me,” Mom threatened. I stormed up to my bedroom. Now Tigress
was going to run over me for the rest of my life because I couldn’t
build a frickin’ car.

&&&

“What happened?” Artica asked
through the phone. There was a glass wall between us. I wished it was
cement. I felt the goose egg on my forehead.

“I tried to do what Mischief
suggested, hand spring out of the way. But Tigress’s fender hit my
head and gave me a concussion. I’m no captain of the cheerleading
squad like she is,” I muttered, “Why does the whole world
hate me?”

“Shego, you’re exaggerating. It’s
just Tigress and who knows why she hates you. Did you steal her
boyfriend or something?” I tried to arch an eyebrow, but it hurt
my head.

“She’s always stealing my
boyfriends, not the other way around. But my mom hates me, too. She
got me a car but dismembered it. Seriously, who do I know that’s good
with cars?”

“Golden Arrow’s always messing
around with mechinary. Why don’t you ask her?” I shook my head.

“She’s in the stony lonesome, too,
and you know what she’ll say. She can’t help me unless I free her. Do
you know how much trouble I would get into if I did bust her out?”

“Well, it’s either that or no
wheels,” Artica’s guard was telling her that visitation was
over, “Happy belated birthday,” she said quickly before
hanging up. I sighed and hung up, too.

I needed to go to work, anyway.

&&&&&

Hmmm, now where would a teenage Shego
work? And what is she going to do with that dismembered car? Please
review.