cloudmonet’s kim stories

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Rated M for Kim and Ron’s amorous behavior.

Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Rufus, Wade Lode, Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Possible, Jim and Tim Possible, Monique, Hope, and Dr. Betty Director are characters from the Kim Possible show, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, owned and copyright by the Walt Disney Company. This story 2009 by cloudmonet. Chapter 2 of 10.

Chapter 2.


Clouds coming from the west covered the reddening sun, but this didn’t seem to make the air any cooler. Kim sat on the ground outside her tent, calling Wade on her kimmunicator. She asked him to research battery-operated copy machines, whatever anthropological reports might exist about the Hurendu and Kitanga people, and whatever might be known about the hierarchy of Central Congo’s military. She asked if he could find online maps of the region she was in, preferably showing detailed natural features as well as roads and villages.

“And oh yeah,” she said, almost as an afterthought, “What about that college deal you were so sure you could find for me and Ron?”

“You know, I’ve got some new hits about that, but I haven’t had time to go through them.”

“Wade, it’s already July. Every moment counts.”

“I was planning to do that later this morning. Right now— You see, Kim, my mom can’t continue to support my computer equipment habit, even though I use the cheapest and most energy-efficient components I can find. You know I’ve done some professional consulting work already. Well, I’m turning this into a business— we’re calling it Lode Tech— and you just gave me a great idea— battery-operated copy machines. If, as I think, nobody makes anything like that, it’s an idea that might have a market. But I’ll read the college hits first and evaluate them. It’s— let’s see, nine hours later in Kitanga.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re so busy and I just gave you a whole bunch of more work.”

“No big, Kim. Just give me a little time.”

Kim put her kimmunicator in her cargo shorts pocket and looked around, suddenly wondering where Ron was. He should be back from the boy’s latrine by now.

“So is Wade having some problem with the colleges?” Ron’s voice said, from inside the tent. “I couldn’t hear what he said.”

“He got some hits and he’s gonna evaluate them. How can you stand to hang out in there?”

“Our mosquito repellent? Lame!” he replied.

Kim felt a bite and swatted at it, then another. “Huh. Maybe you’re right,” she said, unzipping the tent’s screen door and diving in.


The two backpacks were stacked on top of each other on one side of the tent, crowding Ron’s sleeping bag closer to Kim’s. He sat cross-legged, wearing blue spotted boxer shorts, reading a comic book. “What? You’ve seen me in these before, lots of times,” Ron said.

Kim giggled at the thought of his frequently falling pants. “Of course I have. I don’t mind.”

“And the beds— the packs— it’s gonna rain and they’d get wet.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” said Kim. “What are you reading? One of their Bible comic books?”

“From the Old Testament,” said Ron. “It’s all about Samson, the ancient Jewish action hero.”

“Oh, okay,” said Kim.

“One guy, who’s taking on an evil army and laying them down.”

“You wanna read that or you wanna talk?”

Ron closed the comic and set it down. “I was just doing something while waiting for you.”

“You look comfortable,” Kim said. “I feel all sticky. I wish we could take longer showers.” She crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom of her tank top, and pulled it off. She kicked off her shoes and socks, then unsnapped and unzipped her cargo shorts and removed those as well. “Fair’s fair. If you can do it, I can do it,” she reminded him.

Ron looked shyly at the beauty of Kim in her green silk Elizabeth’s Secrets top and bottom. “It’s not dark yet,” he said. “What if someone looks in through the screen?”

Kim shrugged. “I couldn’t see much when I was looking in.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. I think we did okay today.”

“Think that little girl’ll come back tomorrow like you asked her? What was her name?”

“Nanahno. I hope so, but if she doesn’t, I’ll try the other kids. This Nicole woman must have had some kind of school going before she got killed.”

“That’s bad road. If the soldiers killed a teacher, they’ll shoot at us if we do anything they don’t like.”

“And they’re probably not gonna like having their checkpoint robberies exposed, if we do figure out who’s doing this. The truck drivers will not talk about it.”

“Do you think this country has enough of a justice system that if we do finger the thieves, anything will happen to them, and not, say, to us?”

“Well, this stuff does belong to the UN until given away free by authorized distributors— that’s all of Luther Tully’s people. But do you see any UN muscle around here? I don’t, other than the two of us. Who’s gonna do anything, if someone like General Matombe is our supervillain? We’ve gotta be careful. We don’t know anything.”

“Sounds like you asked Wade for 4-1-1.”

“Maybe there’s something on the internet, or some database he can hack into. What else can we do? Something reckless like hiding in one of the trucks?”

“Maybe we could plant a bug with a camera.”

“Good idea, if we had one. I could ask Wade, but I’m not sure he can even deliver anything to us here. The trucks get robbed, and an air drop could be intercepted.”


After a few moments of quiet in the deepening dark, Ron hesitantly spoke. “Uh, Kim, could I say something personal?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Before it gets totally dark, I just wanna tell you, uh, you look really pretty, like that.”

“Thanks, Ron. They’re brand-new undies, real silk, too. I was thinking of you when I picked them out.”

Ron laughed nervously. “Really?”

“I knew you’d see them sooner or later, and I wanted you to see something nice.”

She found his shoulders with her hands, leaned in close and kissed his lips. “Lie down on your back,” she said softly.

“Uh, okay.”

Moments later, he felt a lot of smooth bare skin pressed against him, a small amount of silk, and hair hanging around his face. “I just want to try something,” she whispered, and started kissing his lips while laying on top of him.

His arms naturally wrapped around her, and he really had no choice. His hands were either touching Kim’s bare back, her strap, or her silk-covered bottom. “What are we trying?” he asked.

Kim giggled. “I just want to lie on you like this—” She kissed him. “And kiss you like this—” She kissed him more.

“Mm— okay,” he said between kisses.

“Are you comfortable like this?”

“I’m a little nervous, but this feels nice.”

After another kiss, Kim said, “I’m probably as nervous as you are, but it feels wonderful. I love you, Ron.”

“Love you, too,” he replied.

After a few more kisses, she said, “Let’s try something else,” and got off him. “Let’s unzip the sleeping bags and spread them open, and put mine on top of yours.”

“Like a double bed. That’s a good idea.”

It took a good amount of fumbling in the dark to get this arranged, but soon Kim instructed Ron to lie on his side, facing away from her, and she lay the same way, pressed against his back.

“Dare I ask, now what?” he said.

“We can either talk, or go to sleep,” she murmured.

“My mind is just totally blown.”

She giggled. “Well, I guess that’s okay, too.”


They woke in the middle of the night to lightning flashes, thunder booms, and the sound of hard rain pelting their tent. They both had rolled over, and Ron was now pressed against Kim’s back. It was like being pressed against a human tigress— underneath her smooth girl skin were some amazingly strong and limber muscles, except where Ron’s right hand found itself resting when he regained some semblance of consciousness.

“Nice grope, Ron,” Kim said, and he jumped.

“Sorry, uh, er—”

“Well, on second thought—” she found the offending hand with her own and moved it back to the partly silk-enclosed object in question. “You’re my true love. This should be okay.”

“It’s different from anything else I’ve ever touched,” he whispered.


It was still raining when the breakfast bell rang. Several large tarps hung over the picnic tables, but this was less than perfect, and there were plenty of leaks. Much of the ground was trampled into a muddy mess, and many of the volunteers were noticeably less perky than usual.

Not Luther Tully. As everybody sat wherever they could, trying to keep their bowls of oatmeal from getting splashed, the reverend raised his hands and spoke in his most booming, oratorical voice.

“Do I see some of you-all looking glum? Are you uncomfortable and unhappy? Now what’s the Lord gonna think of us if we’re unhappy when he answers our prayers? The famine is caused by bad harvest. The people can’t grow enough food to feed themselves. And why not? Because the land is parched and dry. It hasn’t been raining enough here in the heartland. Well, now it’s raining! I don’t know how long it’s gonna rain, but it’s raining! Hallelujah! So thank you, Lord, for this blessing, and bless this food which we are about to eat. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” the voices chorused.

“You want the Lord to hear us, don’t you?” Maria said in a loud clear voice. “Amen!”

This next Amen was thunderous, but, like the first, it didn’t include Ron’s voice.

“Wouldn’t He hear us whether we whisper or shout?” Ron muttered to Kim.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” she said, and squeezed his hand.

“I just wish, if everything was gonna be religious, we had a rabbi here too.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Ellen. “When you go back home, why don’t you suggest this to your rabbi? The more people we have here, the better.”

“Heck, tell the atheists to come,” said Bones. “If they’re good people, we’ll welcome their help.”

Ron sighed. “I think this rain would’ve come whether anybody prayed for it or not— but it’s good to be grateful for it, ’specially when there’s been a drought.”

And of course, Rufus ate about a third of Ron’s oatmeal before Ron even noticed.


The rain became intermittent, and the sun broke through the clouds by late morning, when one truck rumbled into camp. The driver said the other truck was stuck in a mudhole about a mile back.

“Oh, we’d better check this out,” Mr. Tully said. “Kim, Ron, Maria, you better come with me. Mark, Mark, and Stephen, inventory that truck.”

“Oh, Stephen,” said Kim. “Nanahno’s teacher, Nicole, taught a number of kids how to speak English. So if Nanahno herself doesn’t show up, send one of the girls out to ask if any other kids can help. Ask someone who’s a good baby-sitter. Most of the kids are pretty shy.”

Maria sat in front next to Mr. Tully, and Kim and Ron sat together in back. It was hard to believe this was the same road they’d rode on just two days ago. The land cruiser slipped and lurched and splashed through every puddle and bounced off every bump. Kim was pretty sure she could have made the ride smoother, but after causing what was probably the world’s first suborbital car wreck, she wasn’t in any position to offer to drive.


It took at least forty minutes to reach the stranded truck, which was thoroughly mired in a ditch. Two soldiers were standing beside the truck, with some heavy-duty automatic rifles, holding off a crowd of locals.

Mr. Tully stopped the Land Rover and hopped out, waving his arms. “Don’t shoot them! Don’t shoot them! For the Lord’s sake, don’t shoot them!”

The soldiers looked at the reverend and shrugged.

“They tryin’ t’ help,” said the driver.

Kim got out of the back seat with her hands up and walked toward a couple of girls, who looked about five and seven. “Do you speak English? Do you remember Nicole?” Kim asked.

The woman who was with them barked something in either Hurendu or Kitanga.

The larger girl said several sentences, including what might have been Nanahno repeated at least twice, and ending with Kim.

“Kim?” the woman asked, pointing at her.

Kim patted her own chest, saying clearly, “Kim. I’m Kim.”

“I’m Rutoba, I speak English,” said the bigger girl. “This my sister Humba and my mama.”

“Hello, Kim, how are you?” said Humba.

“I’m fine, thank you, and you?”

“I’m hungry. Why can’t we have the food?”

Kim smiled. “Let me talk to Reverend Tully,” she said, and walked back to him. “Okay, I’ve established communication. What do you think? It’s more than an hour’s walk to the camp from here. We can do an inventory here and give the stuff away. Then the truck’s a lot lighter, and we can get it out of the mud. There’s some men here who look strong enough to help push.”

“That’ll just encourage this to happen again,” said Mr. Tully.

“It’s happening without encouragement,” Kim countered.

“Okay, we’ll try it your way.”


Maria spoke to the driver in French, which he understood better than English. The two soldiers, who also understood some French, were persuaded that this was the most expedient way to handle the problem. Mr. Tully then explained the plan to Rutoba and Humba, who in turn explained to everyone else.

So Kim and Ron climbed into the tilted truck, and, each tearing off part of the lid of the first box of food, started writing down all the box numbers. After doing the first ten boxes, they double checked all the numbers, and handed the boxes off the back of the truck to either Maria, Mr. Tully, or the driver.

After eighty seven boxes of food, twenty boxes of baby food, and two boxes of medical and birth control kits, each containing forty kits, the crowd was satisfied. Most of the women and children left, carrying boxes and kits.

About twenty men, all of them a bit undernourished-looking, crowded around the truck, with Mr. Tully, Kim, Ron, and the two soldiers. The driver started the motor, and tried to ease the truck into gear. The transmission growled, the tires spun, the mud made ridiculous slurping sounds and splashed all over everyone, but they did manage to free the truck without hurting anybody.

The men waved goodbye, picked up their share of the food boxes, and walked along the road, singing some kind of call-and response song in Hurendu.

The soldiers got into their Russian-made vehicle and drove in the opposite direction.

Maria got in the big truck with the driver, Kim and Ron got in the Land Rover with Mr. Tully, and they drove back to the camp.

“I am not gonna be able to get all this mud out of my hair with that shower,” said Kim. “Is there a pool or a stream somewhere I could just dive in?”

“Sadly, no,” said Mr. Tully. “The river is not a safe place to swim in.”

“Crocodiles?” asked Kim.

The reverend laughed. “There may be some of those, but what we worry about more is the parasites, nasty little microscopic worms that eat into your skin and live in your blood. There’s several kinds. They can make you very sick, or disfigure your skin, or make you drop dead if they start eating your heart.”

“Ewww, gross,” said Ron.

“So, what do I do?” Kim asked.

“I guess you can recycle some used laundry water,” Mr. Tully suggested.


And that’s what Kim did, took a shower first, and then while she was washing out her muddy clothes, she dunked her head in the wash tub and did the best she could to rinse the remaining mud from her hair, then dunked again in the rinse tub.

“ I never thought of doing that,” said Ruthanne, as she walked up carrying a bundle of her own clothes. “Hi, Kim.”

“Hi, Ruthanne. Mr. Tully told me it was okay,” said Kim, twisting the water from her long red hair. “I got so muddy helping get that truck out of the ditch. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get anything really clean.”

“Welcome to the third world.”

“How’d the food distribution go here? Did Nanahno show up?”

“The little girl with the big brother? Yes, she did, and she was a big help. She asked where you were and we told her.”

“I guess I met two of her friends, Rutoba and Humba. They’re sisters. They were with their mom.”

Ruthanne squatted down and looked at the wash tub dubiously. “Did you get this tub too dirty for me? How’s the rinse tub? It’s okay. So I’ll add some detergent and make the rinse tub the wash tub, and dump the wash tub— it’s hopeless— and get some new rinse water from the well.”

“I’ll do that, cause I’m the one who messed up the water,” said Kim.

“Don’t slip, or you’ll have to wash up all over again.”

“I’ll be careful!”


Kim found Ron sitting one of the picnic tables in the shade of the damp tarp, playing an old isometric dungeon video game on his portable cell phone. A few other people were also sitting around, reading paperbacks or talking.

“Uh, hey Kim, let me save and shut down,” Ron said.

“Your batteries are never gonna last five weeks if you play games like that,” Kim said, sitting beside him and giving him a little kiss on the lips.

“Wade guaranteed the battery.”

“You have one of Wade’s trilithium batteries? He’s given you special equipment to play games like Devil’s Dungeon?”

“Sure thing, KP. He gives you his stuff so you can save the world. He gives me stuff so I can help you.”

“And playing Devil’s Dungeon helps me— how?” Kim asked.

“Strategy, tactics, and combat skills. We’ve talked this over before.”

“I still have doubts.”

“Even if all it does is keep me happy while you’re washing your hair, that’s all good. If I’m happy I can make you happy, and if you’re happy, you’re more effective.”

Kim chuckled. “Okay—”

“Those two soldiers seemed like better guys than the reverend thought.”

“Maybe, but I don’t like to imagine what could’ve gone down if we hadn’t shown up.”

“On the bright side, today, we did get everything the UN sent.”

“I wonder what that means.”

“I know! The looters don’t like rainy days cause the back roads they use get even worse than this one?”

“That’s a good possible explanation, Ron. Does it give us anything to work with?”

“There’s gotta be some sort of hideout or lair on one of those roads,” Ron suggested. “A secret warehouse or something.”

“I need to talk to Wade, find out what he’s learned. Maybe he can see something from a satellite. But I can’t call him yet. It’s way early in Middleton. I should wait till after dinner at least. Meanwhile—”

“Mm, yeah?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”


The path that led to the clearing where they pitched their tents went farther, through a parklike area with trees and grass, to a place with a net where a number of folks were playing volleyball, and a funky looking travel trailer on cinder blocks, which was Mr. Tully’s home.

Other than this, the whole campsite where they were staying was fairly barren and uninteresting.

The only wildlife they saw were little birds, one colorful parrot, and a troop of monkeys in the trees across the road, which Ron, the monkey-hater, of course, was not interested in.

“What kind of animals live in the Central Congo?” he randomly asked at dinner.

“Not many around here,” said Ellen. “I saw a Nature Channel show about forest elephants and lowland gorillas, but that’s in some hidden valley that takes days to get to on foot where there’s no roads or people at all.”

“Don’t forget the black mamba that dude shot,” said Bones.

“Too bad Crocodile Jack wasn’t here,” said Ellen. “I saw him grab a black mamba by the tail on his TV show.”

“Well, he’s just a loony,” said Marsha. “That mamba that got in our camp was fast and bad and I’m glad that guy shot it.”

“I saw some funny little animal one night last week,” said Ellen. “I don’t know what it was.”


After dinner, Kim and Ron took their other outfits off the clothesline and folded them on one of the picnic tables, then carried them to the tent. By this time the sun was already going down, and Big Tom was lighting the coleman lanterns.

“Hey, Kim, hey, Ron,” he said.

“Hi, Tom, how are you tonight?”

“Fine, and yourselves?”

“We’re all good,” said Ron. “Well, goodnight. See ya tomorrow.”

Leaving their muddy shoes outside, they crawled through the door and zipped it closed.

“I like how everyone always says hello here,” said Kim. “Seems so friendly, compared to high school.”

“Compared to anywhere,” said Ron. “Well, at least it’s not so humid and hot tonight.”

“I wouldn’t call it cold or anything” Kim said. “But hold that thought. I’m calling Wade.” She pulled the kimmunicator from her cargo pants pocket, and after a crackle of static, Wade’s face appeared on the screen.


“Hey, Kim, I was just about to call you. I’ve got a strong maybe on the college front, and another offer that I’d be inclined to reject, but it’s your call. Let me tell you why the first one’s so good.”

“Okay, go.”

While Wade spoke, pictures of a pleasant looking tree-covered campus flashed on the Kimmunicator’s little screen. Ron sat next to Kim, with his arm around her back, watching and listening.

“This is Northwestern State University in Oregon,” Wade said.

“Have we ever been to Oregon?” Ron asked. “I forget. Looks nice, though.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Kim.

“And this is Mathom House, where you’ll both be living. It’s not the prettiest dorm on campus, but it’s a building that can be brought up to our security requirements very inexpensively, and that’s a big.”

“Security requirements?” asked Ron.

“You and Kim are targets,” said Wade. “Middleton High’s been attacked, and so has the Middleton Bueno Nacho, and both your houses— you get the picture. We don’t want this to happen to your dorm, but the less said about the nature of this security, the better.”

“Wow, that’s nice,” said Kim. “And they’re okay with Ron’s academic record?”

“They’re almost okay with it,” said Wade. “He’s gotta take a remedial algebra course.”

“That tanks,” said Ron. “But I expected it.”

“Just help him get through it, Kim. His literature and humanities skills are more than good enough. Let’s see, their humanities departments have a good reputation, maybe a little thin on the professional papers, but you can’t judge a professor’s teaching ability by papers anyway. The business department’s highly-rated— computer programming, yeah— the science departments are a little thin, except for anthropology— You could get a good education there, and Ron could pass.”

“Hey, I’ll show you!—” Ron protested, “—uh, maybe.”

“This sounds great! What was the other offer?” asked Kim.

“Western North Dakota State College,” said Wade. “It really gets cold in the winter, they didn’t offer dorm security, and they’ll take Ron only if he makes the football team as a running back, and, by the way, they already have more running backs than they need.”

“Playing for Middleton was kind of fun, but there’s no way I’ll ever make the NFL,” said Ron. “I wasn’t even thinking about playing college football.”

“I’m not planning to be a cheerleader in college, either,” said Kim. “So what do you think, Ron? Northwestern State sounds like a really sweet deal.”

“Did I mention they have martial arts rooms where you can practice?” Wade added.

“Wow,” said Kim.

“Sign me up and bill my parents,” said Ron.

“We’re in. Let’s do this!”

“You’ll have at least one close friend there— one Monique Joan Lamar!”

“Squeeee!” exclaimed Kim. “Oh, this is— this is great!”

“Um, I think I can arrange it so you and Monique are roommates, that is, if you’d like.”

“Squeeee!” Kim repeated.

“You and Ron will both be on the third floor of Mathom House.”

“Zee— oh— em— gee! I don’t believe this. I’m in heaven! This is great! Wade, you’re wonderful!”

“Okay, let me bring up their site and post the paperwork. I’m still researching the sitch in the Central Congo. What’s online is mostly at least a few months old, but I’m trying to make some local contacts who really know who’s up to what. Leave your kimmunicator on and I’ll beam you some e-maps and satellite pictures overnight. See ya later.”


Wade’s face disappeared, replaced by a very slow progress bar. Kim set the device on top of the clean laundry, then lunged on Ron, pinned him to the sleeping bags, and kissed him. “I’m so happy! I’m so excited!” she said. She sat up, pulled off her tank top, and unsnapped, unzipped, and dropped her cargo shorts. There was just enough light left in the tent for Ron to see that this night’s Kim underwear was dark.

“We’re gonna get cold if we sleep like this,” said Ron.

“We’ll just zip the windows closed, and if that’s not enough, we can sleep under one of the sleeping bags.”

“Uh, okay,” Ron said, pulling off his T-shirt and cargo pants while Kim zipped windows.

“You ready for me?” she asked, feeling for him.


Dot dot da-dot!

Kim woke up, sat up, and without thinking, reached for the kimmunicator. Monique’s face appeared on the screen; she seemed to be sprawled on her bed, at home.

“Hey, Kim, hope I didn’t wake— you— up.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh— em— gee!”

“Oops!” Kim said, realizing there was already some daylight in the tent, and hastily pulling the sleeping bag up over her black lace bra. “Perils of video phones. Sorry!”

“Yow! Those are some hot cups, girl! I thought you had something like this in mind when I saw that bag.”

“Yeah, well, sorta, actually, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Be more careful. What if I’d been mama? Or dad! I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Kim turned the kimmunicator off, put it face-down on the laundry, and looked at Ron, who was awake and looking at her.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart. How do you like these? How do I look?”

“Wow. Beautiful.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, and started hugging and kissing him.

At that moment, the breakfast bell— er— rusty car hood, began clanking, but neither Kim nor Ron minded a bit. Why should they, with twelve hours of darkness to cuddle in every night?


Things went smoothly at Mr. Tully’s UN food distribution camp for at least a week after this. All the food and other supplies seemed to be getting through, according to the paperwork. Thanks to Kim, Nanahno, and some other English-speaking children, the daily line was so well organized and behaved that it was now the practice, on days when multiple trucks arrived, to take the boxes out and sort them to do the inventory, while the villagers patiently smiled and waited.

Northwestern State University accepted Kim and Ron— in fact, the university president, Phillip Fogg, sent them a personal video message welcoming them. “I especially want to congratulate you for the good work you’re doing in the Central Congo,” he said, “and I want to assure you that your special needs will be seen to by the time you start classes in August.”

The weather was pretty constantly very hot, though it did rain twice more. The villagers said, through Nanahno, that they were planting new crops, and they were hopeful that times would get better.

As for Kim and Ron’s nighttime activities, the narrator, who has been forced by circumstances to abandon any hope of pleasing those readers who protest that they really don’t need to know about these things, for now will say only that similar stuff happened every night, and Kim was careful to avoid any more embarrassing moments with the kimmunicator.

Continued in Chapter 3