Greetings Hey Arnold fans! Here I bring you a dark and candid tale from the mind of AngelicStorm. Prepare yourself for horror, violence, language, lemons, and all the other things that make a story one you can really sink your teeth into. Enjoy. And please... REVIEW!

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Helga G. Pataki.

Intelligent, beautiful, sexy, and she was almost his. Months of persistence had finally earned Brainy a date with the woman of his dreams. It wasn't that he hadn't tried to forget about her. He'd done a hell of a job distracting himself from thoughts of Helga throughout his high school career. He was class salutatorian after all. School had become an excellent outlet for him. Still, it was difficult to focus entirely on his work when he was constantly presented with the object of his affection.

Casually leaning against the wall of the stairwell near Helga's locker, Brainy gazed up at her. He hated himself for falling back into his old habits and watching her this way, but it was what he knew. It was comfortable, just observing her. The way she moved and behaved when she was on her own; natural, graceful, and genuine.

"Helga!" Phoebe yelled as she pushed past the noisy crowd of students congesting the hallway. "Helga, where have you been? I thought we were going to the movies tonight. I already bought the tickets."

"Oh, damn. I guess I forgot to tell you Pheebs. I kinda… have a date tonight."

Phoebe tilted her head in confusion. "A date? With who?" she asked, moving in closer so she could lower her voice.

Helga took a quick look around to be sure no one was paying attention to their conversation. "I'll tell you, but I need you to keep it under your hat, got it?"

"Of course, Helga."

Helga sighed. "Its… Brainy." Phoebe was visibly fighting back a giggle. Helga instantly presented her with 'ol' betsy'. "If you laugh, I swear I'll give you the longest-lasting black eyeshadow of your life."

Hiding her smile with a textbook, Phoebe spoke again. "I'm sorry Helga, it just seems a little strange, is all. He's been asking you for weeks, but I never thought you'd actually consider it. What about, you know.. ice cream?" Helga closed her locker, looking wistfully at the floor. She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't considered him in this.

"Phoebe.. we're Seniors. I've spent more than a decade pining over him. I have to move on with my life. Otherwise, my obsession with Arno- I mean, ice cream, will be all I have left."

Taking one last glance at Helga and her friend as they walked away, Brainy sighed. She definitely wasn't thrilled to be going out with him, but if he played his cards right, maybe he'd be able to prove to her that he wasn't the geek she remembered from grade school.

Arnold lingered by his locker, glancing at Helga and Phoebe out of the corner of his eye. He sighed.

Clicking her combination lock shut, Helga started down the stairs with Phoebe.

Helga G. Pataki.

He watched those perky C cup tits bounce beneath her baby pink tee as she descended the staircase.

She just HAS to be the fuck of the century.

He had dated Lila Sawyer for nearly two years, but he was more than over her now. Back when they'd split, no one could understand why such a perfect couple would break up.

Arnold knew, and unfortunately, walking into the boys' bathroom and seeing Lorenzo's cum dripping from her bottom lip had been kind of a deal breaker. Since then, Helga Pataki had become a bit of an obsession for him. It was nearly impossible for him to be around her without sex ruling his thoughts. Just last weekend he had seen her hanging around at Slausen's having a chocolate malt.

As soon as he saw her pouty, pink lips wrapped around the straw, he'd wanted nothing more than to bend that perfect ass over the counter, wrap his hands around those silky, golden pigtails and fuck her blind. There was nothing even remotely emotional about it, and when he was honest with himself, it bothered him. He'd never had thoughts like this before. Since he'd ended things with Lila he'd been.. different; colder. Even Gerald had told him how much he'd changed. No longer as cheerful and optimistic, he'd taken to sulking and avoiding his usual group of friends.

Only one thing really mattered to him anymore: when he'd get a chance to stain Helga Pataki. A few times a week he'd shut himself in a bathroom stall, running his fingers erratically up and down his shaft, doing his best to quiet his ragged breaths so no one would hear. From there, it was all too easy to go back to class and pretend that, just minutes before, he hadn't been ready to explode the moment she'd brushed against him in the hall. But it was getting old, and fast.

One day soon he would ask her out, he'd decided. She'd had a thing for him once. Maybe he could use that to get closer to her. Just one time, he kept telling himself. Or a few. Then he could get her out of his system. He could go back to his life and Helga Pataki would disappear into the background of his senior year.

It was wrong. HE was wrong. And a part of him didn't care.

Helga showed up to the restaurant early. Twenty minutes early to be precise. She thought it might give her a bit more time to adjust to such unfamiliar surroundings. No one ever took her to places like this. The place just screamed out at her that somewhere on their menu was a fifty dollar glass of wine. Glowing vanilla candles and fresh roses adorned each table. Immaculate ivory tablecloths flowed out over satin and mahogany chairs. Suddenly the old designer dress she'd borrowed from Olga's closet no longer felt 'dressy' enough. The dress was pink chiffon and rested loosely around her curves. All at once, she longed for the little black dress she had left behind in her closet.

The hostess immediately pointed her towards the back of the restaurant where they nestled cozy little tables for two, away from the busier sections. She almost didn't recognize him when she reached the table. He was a made to order date. Freshly shaven and wrapped in a tailored, navy blue suit.

This guy cleans up good.

"Hello Helga," Brainy said. He stood as she approached.

"Oh, hi.." she replied, taking her seat as he pulled it out for her. "Nice place," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments pondering their menus. He felt the silence was a bit awkward, and chose to break it.

"Is all of this too much?" he asked suddenly.

"Is what too much?"

"The restaurant; everything. I know you're not really into this kind of stuff, but since it's our first date I just thought-" Helga raised a hand to silence him, secretly glad to hear his nervous rambling. She had begun to worry that he might be perfect.

"It's fine, really," she insisted.

Helga smiled inwardly. It was nice to see him out of his usual, unflattering attire. As much as Helga wanted to deny it, Brainy was kind of.. attractive. He was smooth and well-spoken.. not to mention how good he looked tonight. Every strand of his strawberry blond hair sat in soft spikes on top of his head, just begging to be touched. His striking green eyes peered over the top of his designer frames. Not a wrinkle to be found in his crisp, navy suit.

"Helga."

Looking up suddenly from her menu, Helga blinked at him. She had never gotten used to his voice. It was deep, commanding, and in this case, made her feel as if she'd done something wrong. "Y-yes?"

"You seem.. uncomfortable."

Helga nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. "Uncomfortable? Me? No…" she paused, stilling the obvious tremble in her voice. "I'm just anxious to get to know you better." It was true. The suave, centered young man sitting before her was definitely NOT Brainy. The boy who used to struggle to produce words through his characteristic wheeze had all but disappeared behind a CK suit and a knowing smile.

"You're actually interested in.. me?" he asked.

"Of course. Why else would I be on a date with you?"

"I assumed you felt sorry for me or something," he said. "I mean, it's perfectly fine if that's why you're here. Not like it hasn't happened before."

Helga sighed and shook her head. No one had ever made her feel so immediately guilty. Here was a guy who seemed to really care; who somehow still wanted to get to know the scowling girl who for years had nothing to offer him but a fist. "Look, I know the waters of our past have been muddy at best," she started, "but I'm willing to start over if you are, Brian." She placed a lot of emphasis on his name, as if to reassure him that she knew it.

"I'd like that," he said. An awkward little half smile formed on his face. A lasting remnant of the little boy with the tan sweater and duct-taped glasses, who was once just glad that Helga Pataki knew his name.

Stinky Peterson sat at his desk, head down, speaking to no one. His fangs were aching again. A steady, incessant throbbing that worsened every moment he refused to extend them. With the ache, came those familiar feelings of guilt; memories of past victims.

Harold Birman had been a mistake. He'd told himself it was the alcohol. That he'd let his guard down for way too long. It was months before he admitted to himself that not only was Harold's death anything but an accident, but it had been a long time in coming. Ever since junior high, the thirst had set in stronger than ever. It was almost unbearable at times, and more than once, he'd given in. The homeless vagrants and amateur muggers had brought him almost no guilt, but poor, unassuming Gloria… Stinky let his pen fall and clatter onto his desk. With a shaky sigh, he buried his face in his hands. If only he hadn't been using Gloria, she might still be alive. If it weren't for him she could be sitting in this class next to him, getting a quality education and preparing to do something great with her life. He'd robbed her of that, and for what?

For her. For Helga G. Pataki. For a time, Gloria had gotten him a lot of attention from Helga. The little scowls and eye rolls Helga would send his way whenever he and Gloria would pass her in the hall were his secret joy. Even after Helga had lost interest in his conquests, he continued to date Gloria for the sense of normalcy it provided. For that, and Gloria's self professed love of him in all of his dull simplicity. Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn't last. That bitter winter night had been the culmination of his fears. In that brief moment when the pale white flesh of her throat was exposed, he had given over all restraint and seized her. Her blood puddling beneath them in the pure white snow.

It was happening more and more lately. The cravings made it difficult to concentrate on his studies; to concentrate on anything. It was a day by day struggle, just trying to hold it together. Just trying to get through each class. Clinging to the hope that one of these days it might get better, but it never did; the hunger growing more and more unforgiving each day.

Maybe if I just go have some water..

In his hurry to rise from his seat, Stinky crashed right into someone as they came down the aisle, knocking a Wrestlemania themed binder and a couple of purple pens to the floor. He didn't even need to look up. It was obviously Helga.

"Hey, watch where you're walkin' Stinkmeister," Helga joked. She gave him a playful slug on the shoulder before reaching down to pick up her things. She seemed content today. The word through the grapevine, a.k.a Rhonda Loudmouth Lloyd, was that she'd spotted Helga out at 'a chic little downtown restaurant Friday night with none other than Brian Thompson'. When Stinky thought about it, that had to have been the first time he'd ever heard Rhonda use his real name, or give a damn about the guy in the first place. From the smile on Helga's face, he judged it must've been one hell of a date.

"Sorry, Helga," he said. Casually, he bent down to help her pick up her binder, his nose just inches from her neck. Quietly, he inhaled the warm, sweet scent of the blood just beneath her skin. His fangs immediately began to ache again. Helga took her binder from him and gave him a quizzical look when she realized how close he was standing. He immediately backed up a step. Shrugging it off, Helga continued to head back to her desk.

Stinky sat down once again, gripping either side of his desk. He didn't want the water anymore. Slowly, he folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes.

It's last period, I can make it.

Glancing at the sides of his desk, he noted the deep impressions his fingers had made in the wood and metal. Maybe he'd ditch after all.