Kim Possible Porn Story: A Long Life Chapter 9

AN: Again, I do not own Kim Possible, Shego, Team Go, or any others except for the main characters of this story.

As stated before. Some of you may recognize this. Yes I am reposting from the earlier version of A Long Life. Please don’t spoil it for those who haven’t read it yet..

“Ok pal” Shego says as they enter the limo, after having left the military base, “You said you’d explain, so start explaining”

“Of course” Thomas says, accepting another can of beer from Elizabeth. After giving her father her drink, Elizabeth curls up on the seat next to Thomas,. She’d heard this story already, but she was ready to listen once more.

“I do not remember a time I was ever any different,” Thomas says, sipping from his beer slowly, as the limo starts moving “Even as a child, I was different. I was always a bit faster, a bit stronger than the other children. I rarely got the scrapes and bruises that other children are known for getting, even though I was just as active as any other child and when I did, they healed faster than others’ injuries did”

“I was born some time around July of 1823 BC on the Julian calendar, just outside of Kanesh, an Assyrian trading post in what is today called Turkey. One of my earliest memories was as a child of around 10, playing with my friends”.

“Zipani(1), you get down from that tree”, the boy’s mother calls, looking out of her family’s clay hut at her son, a gangly boy, with black hair and dark brown eyes with olive brown skin, much like the boy’s father, who had died a year previously when bandits had raided the village. In contrast, his mother was exceptionally pale. When she had been born, she had been seen as a portent of the gods, although none knew whether her pale skin and light eyes bode ill or well for the village she had been born in.

Zipani looks towards his mother, laughing as he climbs higher on the medium sized tree, his friends surrounding him, cheering him on. His mother watches for a moment, then goes back to sweeping out their home, shaking her head as a small smile plays on her lips.

Suddenly, a scream from one of the kids, and a sickening thud brings her running, her cleaning forgotten as she shoves her way through the crowd of kids and other gathering onlookers. In the middle of the group is her son, arm held at an angle nature did not intend, broken bone showing through flesh, blood oozing from both the arm and a deep gash on the head.

Taking Zipani in her arms, his mother sits in the dirt and cries her grief into the heavens as injuries such as her son’s almost always prove fatal. As Zipani’s breathing slows, his mother strokes his hair, softly singing the lullaby she used to sing to him when he was just a baby. As she sings, the villagers grow silent, mourning in their own way.

The silence is suddenly broken as Zipani’s eyes open widely and he screams in agony as his muscles tighten, causing his back to arch. The villagers step back in fright, muttered whispers traveling between them.

Soon though, the mutters and whispers silence as an odd sight greets them. Before their very eyes, the gash on Zipani’s head slowly closes, healing before their eyes, causing many of them to make signs of warding. Another sound soon joins his screaming, the sound of bones grinding and cracking as his arm straightens, the exposed bone sliding back under his skin, the hole in his arm healing as fast as the gash on his head had healed.

Soon, there is no sign of any damage, Zipani, whole and apparently hale, lying in his mother’s arms, still unconscious, but breathing deeply. His mother continues holding him, stroking his hair and murmuring softly, ignoring the angry sounding mutters going on around her. But she can’t ignore what happens next.

As if they needed the time to build up the courage, two of the villager’s hunters move to grab the boy, as other villagers encourage them. It’s hard to make out what they’re saying, as so many are speaking at once, but the intent in the hunters’ eyes is unmistakable.

“No” Zipani’s mother screams at them, holding her son tightly against her, fighting the men, “You can’t have my son!. He’s all I have left. I won’t let you take him!”

“He is cursed by the gods” one of the villagers say, “It’s best to take him out of the village before the gods turn their anger on us”

“I think I should be the judge of that” a new voice says, “Give the boy to me and I will ask the gods what they want us to do”. The villagers turn, the crowd parting to let Naram, the villager’s well loved priest, through.

Kneeling next to boy and mother, he smiles at Zipani’s mother, his white hair shining brightly in the desert sun, “Come with me Khepa” he says, gently helping her rise, “The boy has been touched by the gods. We must see if it is for good or ill”

“The priest prayed over me for several days during which, my mother and I were not allowed to eat, and were given only small sips of water to drink at a time. During that time, I was told of what had happened, as I did not remember. I suppose that was when I fully realized that I was not like other people. I should have died that day, or during the next few weeks. Either from my injuries, or from the wasting sickness that follows such injuries. At the least, I should have lost my arm. Yet I did not.

In the end, the priest declared that I was indeed touched by the Gods. The priest, he was wise. When one villager moved to strike me after the test, he stepped betwen us and said that to touch me might bring about the wrath of the Gods. He said that although he did not know the reason why I was touched, the fact that I was healed should be seen as a good thing, not bad.

After that though, my life changed. Few wanted anything to do with me. At first, I still played with the other kids, however, eventually, the attitudes of the adults bled through to the children and even they shunned me. Well, most of them did.”

“Ah,” Thomas says, looking out the limo’s window, “We’re here”

Looking out the window, Shego sees the Champs Hotel, one of the ritziest in town, “Nice place” She says, “I think I stole something from here once”

“I’d avoid mentioning that” Thomas says with a chuckle as they get out of the limo, “I’d like to be able to come back”

AN: 1. Zipani was the name of a king of Kanesh who reigned sometime around the 22nd century BC. No my guy is not the same guy. They just share the same name. I will be doing this for other characters dating from his life in Anatolia, as outside of references to royalty and deities, I can’t find anything about names that would have been used. So, I am working on the assumption that, just like us today, people would be named after historical and royal figures, and also that royalty would have been given normal names. Like Queen Elizabeth. People were named after her, but people were also named Elizabeth before she came along.

AN: Please read and review.