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The World Must Never Know	By : fulwiz123 Category: Kim Possible > FemmeSlash - Female/Female Views: 53068 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible, Disney does. I make no money from this story. Real people, places, and events are used in a fictitious manner. The other characters come from my own twisted mind.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
The World Must Never Know
Part Five - Hunted.

Written by fulwiz
Beta by Wirenfeldt Jr

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible, Disney does. I make no money from this story. Real people, places, and events are used in a fictitious manner. The other characters come from my own twisted mind.
Warning: This story contains explicit sexual situations, intense violence, torture, rape, death, incest, and many other mature themes.

Chapter 40: Eye of the Hurricane.

(Brownsville, Texas - April 5th, 1979)
The fair haired girl crouched in the musty attic. One blue eye peered through the lens of her camera as she snapped pictures of the documents she found in a securely locked chest. The papers it contained, were something she heard of all her life. Flipping a page, she clicked her camera again. Below her, somewhere in the quiet house, was the man who stole them from her late father, on the same night he murdered her father's friend and fellow conspirator Dietrich Hall.
She felt a kinship for the man only because they were both products of Hall's genetic manipulations, and both of them were murderers. Other than that, they had nothing in common.
Shortly before her own birth he fled the home of the man who raised him, leaving Hall's life work destroyed, and the man himself dying on the floor. Such was the totality in which he rejected his heritage and the dream that went with it. In the years since then he made a new life for himself. He married and brought two children into the world. Children who carried the same superior blood in their veins as he did.
Since she was old enough to comprehend, she and her sisters embraced their uniqueness. They lived and breathed the dream. Right up until the day her younger sister began to question it. Questioned the entire concept of Aryan superiority. Questioned the vision of them marching at the head of a superhuman army across the face of the globe. Questioned the sanity of their father.
Once those queries were posed, the three girls understood the folly inherent in the dream. That was they day they decided to murder their own father. He never realized what they planned, after all, it was him that instilled in them the propensity for keeping secrets. Only once they lured him into the ocean, and were holding him beneath the waves, did he finally understand.
In the months since, the dream died. So had their previous lives. Along with the new names they chose for themselves, a new dream arose. It was this new dream that sent her, and her youngest sister, searching for those who, like themselves, were superior.
After taking one last snapshot, Stheno replaced the documents and notes in the chest. From a pocket, she withdrew similar papers and added them to the contents, before closing the lid.
She made sure the clasp was only partially closed as she moved the chest back to almost the same hidden position she found it in. Just enough of it was now sticking out from behind the haphazard pile of clutter to tempt a curious mind. In their new dream there would be no glorious march. No fanfare or pennant waving. Displays like that only served to bring unwanted attention.
Climbing down out of the attic, while the residents of the house slept around her, she made sure to leave the rarely used entrance unlocked. It was her self appointed task to guide these people from the shadows. Just as it was her middle sister's task to secure a power base for them to work from, and her youngest sister's task to guide others. Subtle maneuvering, that was the name of the game they now played. A game, the winning of which, would bring about a new age upon the Earth.
Leaving the house through the same second floor window she entered from, Stheno smiled at the darkness. She could hardly wait to see the results of this night's handiwork.
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(Mystical Monkey Temple - Africa - August 8th, 2008)
Ron sat on the bottom most of the steps leading up to the alter. He looked at the two women sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him and felt like a fool. After assuring him they had no intention of harming him, both ninja had spent the last few hours explaining to him how they too had been used by Sensei.
His eyes met the older woman’s. She had been forced to make a deal with Sensei for her own life. Having broken the code of the ninja by falling in love with a man she was sent to spy for, she'd been sentenced to death. In return for the lesser sentence of life in exile, she lost her newborn children to Sensei's care. Sad as her story was, it paled in comparison to her daughter's.
He looked into Yori's eyes. Eyes so much like Hana's. He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact his adopted sister was Yori's daughter. Through his muddled thoughts, one thing became clear. “Sensei has some serious explaining to do.”
Yori stood. “You still think he is the one who made the Tempus Simia disappear?”
Ron nodded as he rose from the step. “Yeah. I guess he figured you guys were about to get your hands on it, so he used his ninja magic mumbo-jumbo to take it away.”
Kyoko joined her daughter and the blond young man. “I don't understand why he would do so. Or how. It is something we must ask of him before we take our vengeance.”
He shook his head sadly at the determination in her voice. “Couldn't we just put him in prison or something?”
Yori took his arm, leading him out the temple door. “Would a cage hold someone like him for long? You should know well by now, sometimes there can be only one way to stop such evil.”
The three of them walked into the clearing before the temple. Ron could hear the sound of an approaching helicopter beyond the thick jungle. Of all the lies Sensei told him, that was the hardest to swallow. He'd killed before. Warhok, Warmonga, Aviarius. It hadn't been the MMP that made him feel the way he had when he took those lives. He'd clung to that lie, leading himself into Sensei's manipulations, because he hadn't wanted to admit the truth to himself.
As the copter appeared over the trees, he knew he couldn't deny this part of himself any longer. “Maybe you're right. Maybe the only solution is a permanent one.” Rather than dwell on it any longer, he let his mind focus on another question. He watched the aircraft, bearing the logo of Nakasumi Toys on it's side, come to a gentle landing in front of the temple. “So that's how you got to Africa?”
Kyoko shook her head. “Only myself and only the last leg of the trip. My husband’s private jet is waiting in the nearest city to take us the rest of the way back to Japan.”
Slightly confused, he turned to Yori. “So how did you get here? I mean, you said you followed me...”
Yori smiled as she started to climb into the helicopter. “Silly Ron-San. I stowed away on the plane your friend Wade sent to bring you here.”
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(Near Mt. Yamanuchi, Japan - August 9th, 2008)
Cathraxon sat back on his haunches before the cave entrance. Before him on the precipice overlooking lush green valleys sat the two things he sent his shadow messengers to retrieve. The first was something of great power. It's small size hiding the potential stored within. The other was a stone statue.
He looked into the eyes of the youngling. Eyes that still showed no hint of her dual nature. In time that would change. As she matured, aspects of her other half, the bloodline of his ancestors, would manifest. So it was with all who were made of the blood of two very different realms. He was not the first to sire such a creature in the human realm. Her halfbreed kindred littered the pages of human history. Sometimes as creatures to be feared and reviled, other times as great heroes and warriors. Which it would be was usually left up to chance.
This day, he had another option to offer her. It was an option not often available. He looked over his scaly shoulder at the portal leading back to his own world. As happened to him before, his kind were usually banished before they ever knew of or met the ones they sired. Those who did have the chance sometimes chose to bring their offspring home with them. It was with this choice in mind that he asked a simple question of the child.
“What is it you desire most?”
Hana's answer proved she was truly a creature of both realms. “Revenge.”
It was an answer that left him with three options. He could stay in this realm with his offspring and guide her. He could return and let her find her own way. Or he could take her home and train her properly, giving her what she needed to fulfill her wish. The last was his preferred choice, but it had a serious drawback. Once they entered the passage between worlds, it was a one way trip. The rift could only be held open from the Earthly Realm. It would close behind them. There was no way of knowing when or if another summoning would occur, in which she could return.
While he considered this, his eyes fell upon the stone idol. A fourth option filled his mind. Un-needful of the special conditions and spell-casting a human would need, he brought forth the idol's power. He took the child's hand in one massive talon, and the artifact in the other. Together, father and daughter entered the rift between worlds. As soon as they passed the barrier, it began to close.
In the flicker of an eye, a figure emerged from the portal. She spread her bat-like wings in the warm breeze caressing the mountainside as the opening between dimensions closed for good. With a flick of her barbed tail, the teenage girl looked through glowing red demonic eyes upon a world she barely remembered. With a smile that showed just the tips of her sharp white fangs, she clasped a small satchel, containing all her otherworldly belongings, to her breastplate and took to the air.
Hana Stoppable, daughter of Cathraxon, half blood warrior of the Demon Realm, circled twice in the bright blue sky, before flying off in search of her human mother, and the revenge she still, even after twelve long years, wholeheartedly desired for the murder of her adopted parents.
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(Natural Leisure Resort)
Anne stood behind her daughter, who was sitting in front of the bedroom vanity. She ran her fingers through the girl's freshly washed hair. “How about a ponytail? You hardly ever wear one anymore.”
Kim looked into the vanity mirror. She could see the lust sparkling in her mother's eyes. She hadn't worn her hair like that in a long time, mostly because she felt it made her look much younger than she was. Her lips twitched into a smile as she realized that was what her lover wanted. She was nodding her head, when the smile turned into a wince.
Anne saw the pained look on Kim's face. “Is your little bubble butt still sore, Baby?”
The girl laughed as her mother began pulling her hair back. “Good sore. The kind of sore that says my Mommy loves me enough to fuck the hell out of my ass in front of hundreds of strangers.”
Remembering how her daughter's asshole gaped open after their little show this afternoon, how her nasty little Kimmie-Twat displayed her distended, freshly reamed and certainly no longer virginal, rear hole to the crowd that was giving them a standing ovation, Anne felt heat rising in her loins again. As she slipped a pink scrunchie into her daughter's hair, she felt the urge to drag her over to the bed and repeat the performance. Or maybe even better, let her sexy young lover have a go at her own ass with the strap-on instead. It was only a triumph of willpower that made her resist. They had already made plans for the evening.
She chuckled as she finished with her daughter's hair. “Tell you what, Baby. After dinner, I’ll kiss it and make it all better.”
It was nearly six in the evening when the two of them approached the doors to the dinner theater. A sign on the wall next to the entrance informed them they were early. Over an hour early.
Anne sighed as she held her daughter's hand. “I guess we should have checked the schedule.”
Kim gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We were a little occupied.” Her face turned mischievous. “Wanna go back to our room and mess up the bedsheets?”
The older Possible's eyes began to roll at the teenager's suggestion. Halfway through the roll, she spotted something that suggested an interesting alternative to a quickie. “How about I give you a taste of what's in store for you tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. The word flitted through Kim’s mind. Tomorrow her mother promised to take her to parts of the resort they'd seen from the Ferris wheel. Places where she knew existed pleasures of the most deviant and perverted sort. Where her mother promised she would experience things she could now only barely imagine. She made a bobble head look still as she nodded vigorously. “Great idea Mom! What did you have in mind?”
Anne lifted her free hand and pointed at a nearby building. “I think a tour of the sex museum will give you some idea of what's in store for tomorrow.”
Nearly an hour later, as they emerged from the De Sade wing of the the museum into the main lobby, Kim’s eyes were wide, her face was red as a beat, and her pussy was dripping like a faucet.
Her mother chuckled as she lead her toward the newest wing of the museum. It hadn't been there the last time she visited the resort, and promised to show them things even she wasn't sure she could handle. Just as she had after visiting each the previous sections, she asked. “How are you holding up Kimmie?”
Kim swallowed loudly. Her head was full of images. Sights both wondrous and disturbing. And sometimes both. In her minds eye she saw flesh reddened by whips and canes, women riding horses in ways she hadn't believed possible, showers of golden liquid pouring hot over lust crazed bodies. One after another these scenes had impressed themselves on her mind. She looked at her mother, and was without doubt. She wanted to see more. With a look of pure debauchery in her eyes, she whispered. “Bring it on Mommy. I want to see everything!”
The sign above the entrance to the new wing loomed over them as they approached. Good Sex, Gone Bad: A history of sex crimes.
Names and faces confronted them as they passed down a long hallway. Saucy Jack wielding his scalpel in Whitechapel. Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, bathing in the blood of her victims. John Wayne Gasy in white-face and clown suit. Dahmer, Iqbal, West, Ridgway... The list went on and on. There was nothing enticing about what they were seeing. Anne only continued on toward the last display in hopes this would be a good lesson for her daughter. That it would show her that there was such a thing as too far.
Kim trembled as she looked through a glass partition at a series of articles, photographs, and magazine covers. She couldn't understand how something as wonderful as sex could be turned into something so hideously wrong. Her eyes locked on a black and white picture of a scowling, knife wielding, woman. She could see the fear on the face of the young girl tied to the bed under her. The caption beneath it told her it was a picture of one of the few such criminals caught in the act, and stopped before she could carry out her horrible crime.
She lowered her eyes and turned to her mother. “How could somebody do things like that? Even supervillains aren't so... So... Evil!”
A voice made the two of them turn around, away from the murderess in the display. “There are many kinds of evil in the world, but sometimes, Kimberly Ann, things are not always what they seem.”
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The World Must Never Know