Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.
Acknowledgement: This story takes place in a universe conceived by The J.A.M. a.k.a. Numbuh i. The writer remains grateful for the latitude granted to him in his interpretation of the established universe.
ICYMI: A shattering decision, followed later by a surprise visit.
So with all of that out of the way, the next chapter beckons.
13. Familiarity
Oh god, how good it felt!
No sooner had Arnold granted Helga ingress inside the structure and already she was all over him, so much so that he barely had time to latch the door. But latch it he did, for he knew too well the importance of privacy under the given circumstances.
Then back to Helga he went.
She'd been kissing him all the time he was securing the place. Anywhere her lips could be planted seemed fair game: his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. Now it was time to return her lust. He kissed her back with equal vigor and longing. Then came the mingling of their tongues as he pushed his into her mouth to be met by her swirling specimen.
All the while, they were moving away from the door toward a bench. Soon enough, Arnold heard a little yelp from Helga as her derriere suddenly plonked down on the seating surface. The utterance proved the full extent of the attention she gave to the new position; she was more interested in her blonde beau.
Arnold in turn was eager to parlay whatever skills and techniques he'd gleaned from Helga into satisfying her the way she had satisfied him. He started by moving his kisses away from her face, down to her neck and collar which he peppered with wispy feather kisses and the occasional light nibble. Her reaction came in soft, prolonged murmurs of delight.
The sweetest music to his ears. And also, encouragement to be bolder as he stopped to eye his shirt as it clung to her upper body in the sultry environment. What a tantalizing sight it was, hinting at great treasure waiting to be unearthed.
Helga must have read his mind, for she bade him continue with a longing expression: "If you don't like the shirt, Footballhead, then do something about it!"
It required all his willpower not to rend the shirt asunder. Instead, he slowly and very deliberately undid it, button by button. Each button undone, revealed more skin for him to sample (which he did), and more surface area for his mouth to explore (which it did). Before long, the shirt was loosely hanging from Helga's body, its mission to preserve her modesty long abandoned.
And so lay Helga in front of him, her back arched ever so invitingly. Her lithe, glistening musculature and her developing breasts on proud display. With a smoldering voice to match.
"You don't plan on leaving it at that, do you?"
Arnold could only gaze back at her with a smirk that declared, "Challenge accepted!"
He kissed her again on the mouth in that sensual and lingering way that he had come to love, before breaking away to focus once again on her exposed chest. He sought to mimic her previous actions on him and so focused on her nipples. Her sudden gasps strongly hinted that he was on the right track. Every kiss there elicited more urgency in her breathing, as did every probe with his tongue.
She was enjoying it. He was ecstatic that she was enjoying his efforts. Clearly, her nipples were as sensitive to his contact as his were to hers when she had worked her magic on him. So how about..?
He pulled away from her chest to work his way downward. Still, she offered no resistance: was she already aware of his intentions? Probably, given how invitingly her back was arched in anticipation and her overall expression all but begged him to resume.
He started on his downward trajectory – some would say 'downward spiral' – kissing his way down her firm yet supple belly. He paused at her umbilicus to pull back and take in her sleek muscle tone. The sight was the inspiration for him to speak for the first time since latching the door.
"Helga, you've got such a beautiful body!"
"Well, doi, Footballhead!" Helga playfully reprimanded. "All the sports I play, all my shenanigans chasing after you. What else were you expecting?"
At that, Arnold Shortman could only sigh to himself.
Never change, Helga! Don't you ever change!
Unfortunately for him, she was not done roasting him. "Geez, you're as slow as always. We had sex, we shared a shower, and only now do you notice my trim figure. If I wasn't madly in love with you, I'd…I'd…i-I-I-I…"
She was suddenly unable to say anything more. Instead, the best she could manage was an incomprehensible string of high-pitched and barely restrained moans and grunts. Her surprised reaction was fully justified as Arnold had gone back to work on her. His arms were hooked around her thighs, his face buried in her crotch as he gave what he hoped to be a passable attempt at oral stimulation.
Licking and lapping, kissing and nuzzling, prodding and poking. To be fair, his efforts were objectively amateurish at best, though one wouldn't think so judging by how Helga's voice was cracking and her breath was quickening in response to his ministrations.
"Arnold…" she gasped. "Oh, Arnold…where did you…where…Ah…! How did you…Oh god…oh god!"
How she wanted to continue the inquisition, only to be denied by wave after wave of spine-tingling ecstasy. In any case, Arnold seemed deaf to her words, though not to her rich and resonant moans. This was Helga as only he had heard her: this was his Helga. And so help him, he would want it that way for as long as she would let him. Thus, he remained relentless in his pursuit of her ultimate bliss.
Soon – though not too soon – he felt her becoming extra moist where he was working. And he knew. He knew that her stimulation was fast approaching its critical point, too much for her to contain anymore.
"Helga!" he whispered sternly and urgently as he looked up at her. "Keep your voice down!"
But par for the course, Helga was slightly ahead of him. She was covering her mouth with both hands, just as desperate not to give away their act or position. Her precaution lulled him back to a sense of confidence to continue his oral and lingual work. And so the stimulation continued to the sound of Helga's escalating, barely muffled rapture.
Finally, it happened. He felt every muscle in her body contract as she violently arched her back and threw back her head. He heard her muzzled paroxysms of utter elation from behind her hands and through her clenched teeth. He tasted the extra moisture emanating from within her, evidence that she had indeed just crested those highest peaks.
He paused to take in the sight of a greatly disheveled Helga. His shirt – wrinkled, rolled-up, and bunched up – was now clinging futilely just below her shoulder line. Her chest was heaving with each slowing breath as she sought to return to a normal rhythm.
This is my Helga.
"Where did you learn to do that, Footballhead?" asked Helga, after eventually regaining the skill of coherence.
"Why?" answered Arnold, deliberately coy. "Did you like it?"
"No, Arnoldo! I only work myself to orgasm whenever something I hate happens to me!"
And yet, as sardonic as her words were, her delivery conveyed her lingering bliss over what just happened, as well as her profound admiration for Arnold Philip Shortman.
"And the question still stands: how did you ever think to go down on me?"
"Oh, is that what it's called?"
Helga would have been frustrated by Arnold's non-answer if not for his earnest tone. And anyway, the response was enough for Helga to deduce a possible answer. A mischievous grin slowly crept up on her visage as she enquired further: "So was it something you read or something you saw?"
His flustered expression would have been reward enough for her were it not for how much she loved teasing him – almost as much as she loved him.
"Oooh!" she playfully reproved. "Someone's been especially naughty this week!"
"Helga!" Arnold yelped back, doing his defense no favors. Not that it mattered to his lover, for her knowing smirk and slow nodding hinted at her having derived the answer. Defeated by her superior deductive skills, he rose to his feet. It was then that he became aware of two developments.
One: his towel had slipped off of him.
And two…
"Oh my!" commented a visibly impressed Helga. "Looks like someone doesn't want the party to end!"
Arnold looked down to his crotch to be immediately confronted by the truth that he was at full mast. The revelation should have been fodder for an excitable wild take or two, but only if he had not yet become used to such compromising situations. Thus, he looked back at Helga to proclaim: "So? I don't hear you complaining about it."
Before Helga could react to his bold statement, the bold kid had an even bolder statement to make. "If you want to do something about it, what say we take it up to my room?"
Inevitably, there was a practical consideration of his suggestion. "Because all this heat and steam can't be good for us. We're going to pass out if we try anything more."
Helga's eyes widened at his suggestion before she responded: "Aren't you scared we might get caught again?"
Arnold's answer proved yet another surprise in an evening already defined by surprises. "What are they going to do? Take you away from me? Force us apart?"
His words weren't completely frivolous; there was an underlying melancholy in his voice over his and Helga's impending separation and the uncertainty that was to follow. At the same time, there was a feint sense of resolve, that he was as serious about carpe dieming the living fuck out of the time they had left as she was.
Not that she was about to become fully sentimental over their situation. "Very nice, Arnoldo," she commented before challenging him. "Just one question. How do we get back to your room without being detected?"
"That's the easy part, my dear, sweet Helga!" proclaimed Arnold as he knelt beside Helga for a light peck on the lips. "The same way you got from there to here, of course!"
Helga had become very adept at reading Arnold. She was more or less spot on with her playful assessment that he'd been a naughty boy.
Three days ago, Arnold had agreed to a visit from Gerald. The following day, The Sunset Arms welcomed Arnold's friend, ostensibly for "homework or research…or something like that", according to Gertie's fading recollection to Phil, who grew exasperated to the point of no further inquiry. One hour later, after several Math problems and two visits from the grandparents offering refreshments, they deemed their cover sufficiently established and went about the true purpose of Gerald's visit.
For the next half-hour, the boys sat in silence as they watched, rewound, and fast-forwarded through a VHS cassette that Gerald claimed to have purloined from a hidden recess in Jamie O's room. The tape was innocuously labeled, its contents of foreign origin. Gerald guessed Swedish (it was Latvian). Language notwithstanding, it showed some of the more uninhibited members of the population engaged in a plethora of activities, some of which had become quite recognizable to Arnold.
Dialogue between the boys was sparse and tense. One of the longer exchanges went as follows.
"So, are you trying to get some ideas for Phoebe?"
"What do you think, Brother? I don't want to come up short for our first time!"
"So why are you watching this with me? Shouldn't you be watching with Phoebe?"
"Are you out of your fucking mind? How do you think that's gonna play out if I casually walk up to her and ask her to watch some porno with me?"
"I don't know. She surprised us all on Monday…who knows? Maybe she's secretly interested in stuff like this."
"Phoebe? This?"
"Hey, what's to say she won't be? What's to say girls aren't interested in this stuff too?"
A later exchange would proceed as follows in the wake of a certain scene.
"Hey! I know that! Helga did that to me on Sunday!"
"Oh really? I thought she said you were just goofing off."
"Details, Gerald! Details!"
"Man, that girl knows just too much for comfort! Anyway, you looking to return the favor?"
"Say what?"
One fast-forward and three repeat views later, the conversation continued with…
"Wow...! I never knew guys could do that to girls too!"
"So you gonna try that on Helga?"
"It looks like she was enjoying it. Maybe Helga will too. Like you said…returning the favor. How about you? You want to try that out with Phoebe?"
"Only if I can get over my belief system…"
"Oh? And what belief is that?"
"That you are what you eat…"
"Um…I don't get it…"
By the time Gerald left the building, it was agreed that the viewing had been a most edifying experience. The tape had highlighted a fair amount of technique and imagination, although the boys agreed that the scene involving the champagne bottle was best forgotten and that neither Helga nor Phoebe would likely be very open to the suggestion of alligator clips.
They successfully snuck back to Arnold's room. It was an uneventful trip, almost disturbingly so. On the way up, nobody was waiting to use the bathroom. For that matter, none of the usual suspects seemed to be in at all. Mister Potts wasn't squabbling with Mister Hyunh, nor were either of them breaking Mister Kokoshka's balls over whatever act of douchebaggery the Czech expat had pulled off this time. Even the kitchen was silent: no dishes being washed, no treats being baked. All that remained was the living room and even that drew a blank. The TV was off and nobody was on the piano.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
It all looked as if Arnold and Helga were on their own. It all sounded as if they had The Sunset Arms to themselves. Maybe it was just as well, as Arnold was barely adequately clad. He'd originally arrived at the sauna wearing an oversized bathrobe which was now looking quite fetching on Helga. In a fit of chivalry, he'd bequeathed it to his paramour in a bid to preserve her modesty. The shirt in which she'd arrived had become too damp and scrunched up to function as a proper garment anymore, so all that covered his dignity was his towel.
As they entered Arnold's room, they encountered more evidence of something odd being afoot. On Arnold's bed lay a condom in its wrapper. Arnold stood agog at the sight.
"Helga, did you put that there?" he asked as he turned to her, only to find her equally slack-jawed.
"Helga?" he repeated, trying to get her attention.
Her eyes remained fixed on the prophylactic as she commented as deadpan as she could manage. "Wow. I figured your grandparents were supportive of us as a couple, but this?"
"You think they put that there?"
Helga could only look at Arnold and smile ruefully while facepalming inside. "No, Arnoldo!" she replied with her trademark sass. "The tooth fairy decided that quarters just aren't cutting it anymore!"
Arnold's response was as to be expected: the too-late look of realization that the answer should have been obvious. But Helga had more pressing concerns than dealing with his innocent worldviews.
"I guess your grandma's not ready to become a great-grandmother just yet," the hoyden concluded. And before Arnold could question her logic: "It could only be her. She didn't freak out nearly as much as your grandpa did on Sunday. I actually got the feeling that she's always been holding back. That she's sharper than she lets on."
"Well, she does have a black belt in karate," Arnold boasted about the Sunset Arms' matriarch. "And she was a police detective during World War 2 through to the fifties."
"You mean..?" stammered Helga, frozen this time in the wake of a new awareness. "Oh my god! All the times I snuck into this place, she's probably been on to me from the beginning!"
"All the times you snuck in here..?" queried Arnold.
"Details, Arnold! Mere details!" she brushed him off. "Let's focus on our current quandary!"
"Well, if what you said about Grandma is true, then she must have known you were here and wanted to give us some privacy."
"By clearing out the whole building?" Helga asked, her disbelief thick. "That seems a bit much, even for her!"
"Helga," Arnold laconically answered, "you have no idea what my grandmother is truly capable of. If she sets her mind to something, it gets done. One way or another."
"Oh, I get it," Helga then smiled in recognition, "she has a very particular set of skills, right?"
"Mostly in persuading people," confirmed Arnold.
"Still…" Helga continued, her voice becoming more suggestive as she eyed the bed and considered the now quiet environment. "…it would seem awfully rude if we didn't take advantage of the opportunity…"
She turned back to Arnold, whom she found looking back at her, his gaze equally suggestive. "Yeah, after she went through all this effort…"
"Like she said, Footballhead," she reminded him. "None of what we're doing is illegal…"
Arnold's smoldering gaze remained as he voiced his agreement: "What are they gonna do if they catch us..?" he recalled his statement back in the sauna. "Tear us apart?"
Just like that, Arnold was pressed against Helga. On his tiptoes, kissing her as hungrily as she had taught him. His hands settled initially on her shoulders
Oh wow, he seems eager. So thought Helga, elated that the boy for whom she'd traveled across universes, was as willing to return her ardor as she was to give it. Let's see how eager.
Her curiosity was shortly answered. As they kissed, she felt his hands slip down her shoulders, travel down each arm and across her chest. There she sensed his trepidation. A brief hesitation, causing her to stop and pull away to see what his plan was. Through his expression, he appeared to be asking for permission to proceed. Helga responded in kind, with a look playfully chiding him for keeping his lady waiting. That did the trick as she saw the fuck it all build up in his eyes and he slipped his hands inside the gown.
You're a bold kid, Arnold. She heard herself think those words as she felt his hands caress her skin within the gown.
Caress the skin.
Loosen the gown from the inside.
Let it slip over her shoulders and off her body on its way to the floor.
As she stood au naturel in front of her beloved, she suddenly cursed internally. She'd enjoyed the disrobing so much that she'd forgotten to give him the same treatment. She needn't have worried. Arnold's towel was not at all secured tightly: he had to hold it in place to maintain its integrity. So when both his hands went to Helga, the towel went to the floor.
Two young lovers, peering at each other.
Naked in form.
Naked in emotion.
Naked in intent.
"Well, no time like the present," Helga broke the silence. "Shall we begin?"
What happened immediately afterward was now a blur to Arnold. Although he had learned a lot up to this point, putting on a condom wasn't among those skills. Fortunately, he had Helga. Due to her exploits in her previous universe, she had become very adept indeed at sheathing her lover. And though he was expecting the sheathing process to be a palaver, it wasn't. It was to be the second most enjoyable experience in his room that day.
Doi, why wouldn't it be?
Helga's hands stroking his shaft, holding it in place, keeping him rigid and expectant. How could it have been otherwise? It was but for the grace of a benevolent god that he was able to keep his excitement from spilling out into the open. It didn't help that she seemed to take her time, teasing him and holding him almost painfully at attention. The sheathing done, next came the insertion. It may have been a minor feat of stability and precise coordination, but it too was handled with less fuss than expected.
That was then. And now? The most enjoyable part: they were well into it.
Helga on her back on Arnold's bed. Arnold between her legs. Secured by those long, strong legs wrapped around him with the ankles crossed for extra measure. The better for him to apply the Latvian (not Swedish) lessons, thrusting at a constant, unyielding rhythm. Helga was impressed by his eagerness and initiative, if not entirely by his technique. Still, she was a long, long way from being dissatisfied.
Her rapture came via desperately muffled moans and croons. To Arnold, though, she was singing the most harmonious melodies ever brought to existence. He kept plunging, he kept thrusting with ever-deepening strokes. He kept chasing Helga's continued rapture, so intoxicating had it become. His benefit too, as she was doing for him what he appeared to be doing for her. As he stirred her insides, her warmth and tightness chafed and clamped him ever so wonderfully. The warmth was spreading to every receptor in his body as every thrust – fueled by ragged breaths through tightly clenched teeth – brought about ripple upon glorious ripple of undiluted electric delight coursing through his entire body. And though the sensations were threatening to overcome him, he didn't care. The feeling was too good to halt, too good to stop pursuing. Too good to let go of.
Sadly, it had to end.
Inevitably, it did.
Many minutes later, Arnold's frequency had reached its breaking point. One last almighty thrust into Helga and there he remained, scrotum deep within her and juddering as he felt his issue burst forth into the condom. Next he knew, there was that intense euphoria again as he felt himself go limp all over.
Helga would follow shortly. As Arnold was in his final throes, she too was tightening up from head to toe. And she too would express her ultimate delight through an initial pained grunt segueing into a deep, contented sigh. Then she also let the euphoria wash over her.
Two bodies. One state.
They were unaware of the biological details, but their orgasms had caused their bodies to secrete oxytocin, a hormone promoting feelings of intimacy and closeness, especially in situations such as their current one. Thus did Arnold lower himself to lie on Helga to remain close to her. Thus did Helga welcome him with a welcoming embrace.
"Thank you, Footballhead," she spoke through deep panting. "Thank you for everything."
Arnold wanted to respond in kind. "Helga, I—"
"Shh…" she breathily shushed him. "No more talking. Let's just have this moment."
Actually, there was still a bit to do before they could have their post-coital moment. Arnold had to remove himself from Helga, who point-blank refused to remove the condom. Her grand contribution thereto was a Kleenex in which to wrap the sheath for ease of disposal, for which she had tapped into her previous lives to advise him. Thereafter they could lie on Arnold's bed, side-by-side and hand-in-hand.
Silence and easy breathing prevailed, blackness gradually increasing until…
When Arnold awoke sometime later, Helga wasn't beside him anymore. He wasn't really surprised; this was Helga Geraldine Pataki after all, a girl able to vanish almost at will. There was, after all, a new curfew to be met where she lived. All the same, he felt something in his hand that had held Helga's when they nodded off.
He turned groggily toward the grasping organ, and gradually it came into focus what he was grasping. A notebook. A pink notebook.
Only you, Helga! Only you!
What a neat little touch, he chuckled lightly. Right up to the moment he opened the book and read the first few sentences.
Well, would you look at that? You've just completed the latest chapter! Thank you so much for your continued support and (hopefully) your continued enjoyment. I can't say this enough, and I won't stop saying it: without your support or (ideally...) enjoyment, all my efforts would be pointless.
And look! Two - count 'em, TWO! - reviews for the previous chapter! I tell you. when it rains, it pours! Best be addressing them, then...
Kay Deutsch: Dit beteken besonders baie vir my dat u my storie so baie geniet. U het my woord dat ek alles in my vermoë sal doen om jou nie in die steek te laat nie. En ja, die karakters bly altyd die mees belangrike aspek van al my stories. As hulle nie jou ondersteuning kan verdien nie, is enigiets anders van die storie tervergeefs.
Guest: Your investment I'm my story feeds my heart and soul. To answer your question, the story will continue for exactly as long as it needs to. More specific than that I cannot say.
As for notes, well...the bit with the video was inspired by an incident dating back 30 years. My brother and I were home alone and in a fit of mischief, decided to rummage through our parents' cupboards. From one belonging to our father, we found an unmarked VHS cassette which we watched out of young teen curiosity. That cassette is where the references to the champagne bottle and the alligator clips come from.
So why would Gertie encourage such activity, I hear you ask? I see it less as encouragement, and more as an acknowledgment. Gertie realizes that she and Phil can't stop Arnold and Helga, so they might as well mitigate the situation by providing privacy and protection.
And now, the Tidal List:
I Like – John Ireland
Just For You – Lionel Richie
Groovin' In The Midnight – Maxi Priest
Bonny – Prefab Sprout
Paradise – Sade
And that's it for this chapter. Until then, take care and take nothing for granted.
