But Helga didn't like girls. Well, she didn't like-like girls, and Lila didn't know how to approach these newfound feelings for her. She'd never be her best friend, that award went to Phoebe. She'd never truly be her main confidante, or her inspiration, her muse ... so what could she be? A punching bag for her? Just some casual acquaintance that Helga vaguely tolerated?

"Lila, it's kinda freaky when you just stare at me like that. Just letting you know," Helga flippantly added on, turning to flop on to the bed with a soft bounce. Lila stayed put in the chair, watching her hopelessly.

"Collaborating on a creative writing assignment is WAY harder than I thought it'd be. I know why so many TV shows are utter shit, now." Helga joked to herself without a laugh, but her words elicited a giggle from Lila.

"It certainly is difficult! But I can't think of another mind I'd rather work with, Helga." Lila softly said with admiration, and Helga rolled her eyes in discomfort, but a faint blush on her cheeks told Lila that she appreciated the compliment on some distant level.

"I think we've been pulling it off quite well, though!" Lila offered and got up from her chair, sitting beside Helga, who had now been laying on her stomach, staring down at their compiled works.

Lila's eyes watched the curve at the small of Helga's back with a fire she never would get used to, and she dared to let her gaze linger a bit before following the shape of her ass through her jeans.

She never stopped feeling dirty when she'd look at Helga like this. She wasn't even sure if she liked girls as much as she liked guys, so why was she always so attracted to Helga's power, Helga's assertiveness and aggressiveness?

Helga's body.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm thinking I need a nap, though. My brain feels fried." Helga sighed and turned over on her side, a far away look in her eyes, and Lila could only take a wild guess at who Helga's mind was on.

She nodded in understanding, eyes flickering over to Helga's stereo. "Can I put on some music?" Lila asked and tilted her head, her braids swinging slightly. She was seventeen now, but still wore the same hairstyle, which many found endearing, but even more found tiresome and annoying.

Maybe Lila was trying to capture some weird form of youth that she refused to part with. It was even more apparent in the childish dresses she still wore, refusing to show off her body in more trendy and modern attire. She was still desired, sure, but Lila's demeanor and style no longer made her the most popular girl with the boys. Well-liked, already deflowered, sure. But she wasn't worth the baggage that most guys discovered she had.

Maybe that was what Lila related to Helga on. That strange amount of baggage that people couldn't handle once they got to know her. She was indecisive. She could be passive aggressive. She had the world's biggest guilt complex.

She was everything Helga wasn't, and Helga was everything she wasn't. And yet, she always desperately tried to relate to her.

The moment she put the radio on 99.7 FM, "We Belong" by Pat Benatar began to play. Lila clasped her hands together in delight, proclaiming: " I love this song ever-so-much!"

Helga tossed a pillow and it hit Lila in the head, dead on target.

"Lila, are you TRYING to make me commit murder? Turn that shit off! I want to nap! Work on a couple of rough drafts and I'll see if your prose jives better with what I have now that you've been improving." Helga muttered, that look still in her eyes as she cuddled the pillow closer to her, but a more annoyed look tinted the muscles in her pretty face.

Lila picked up the pillow that had hit her in the face from the floor, then promptly turned off the radio, watching Helga longingly. "Oh, okay. Sorry, Helga..."

The room was flooded with a thick silence. Uncomfortable on one end, torture on the other.

Helga stared ahead at the wall, convincing herself to pretend she couldn't feel Lila's eyes on her back. Was the girl expecting a list of things Helga wanted her to busy herself with while she got some rest? Thirty fucking minutes of rest, that was all she was asking for. It didn't help that she was having more trouble than usual sleeping, what with creeping and sporadic paranoia of Arnold having found another girl on his adventures with his parents entering her mind. Maybe some girl bustier than her, curvier, who knew more about geopolitical relations than she did.

Or some shit. Who the fuck cares anymore? Helga turned over to see Lila clutching the pillow, looking at her cluelessly, like some retarded lost puppy.

"Lila... this is the part where you busy yourself with writing like I told you to." Helga explained in a voice dripping with saccharine falseness.

"Oh! Yes, sure! Sorry, Helga, I was lost in thought!" Lila laughed to herself, walking over to her backpack that was on a bean bag in Helga's room.

"You and me both, sister." Helga sighed in exasperation, and shoved a pillow over her head.

Aside from the timid unzipping of Lila's backpack, and the shuffling of papers, there was now a peace in the room that Helga could find rest in. Hopefully.

Lila stared down at her paper, long resigned to the fact that whatever she produced would not be nearly as beautiful as the effortless beauty that Helga could grace in to words with her thoughts, but it was important for her to do this right. If Helga could respect or even like (or maybe like-like) her writing, Lila's year would be made. Writing wasn't a passion of hers to the extent it was for Helga, but it was something she wanted to improve upon and hone to a much better craft.

She rested her back against the beanbag, sighing softly. She tapped the pencil against the paper, while her free hand idly played with one of her braids, the notebook seemingly glaring at her intimidatingly from where it rested on her lap.

Helga let out a kittenish sound from where she rested, and Lila couldn't help but smile at how cute it was. After a few more minutes of silence, Lila finally felt the courage to glance up and check to see if Helga was sleeping.

With relief, she assessed that it seemed to be so.

Lila watched Helga's sleeping form for a moment or so, before she felt uncomfortable and invasive. So she allowed her gaze to drift around the room, admiring how cultured it was in Helga's own quirky ways. Her idiosyncrasies were exampled by one corner being showered with wrestling and action flick memorabilia, while the other had works of art, poetry awards, and a showcase of inspiring (and often cynical) quotes from Helga's favorite writers.

There were so many sides to Helga. Lila wasn't sure she'd ever get to know them all, and she wasn't sure Helga would ever willingly show them all to anyone but Arnold.

The sound of a pencil hitting the floor faded into the comfortable silence in the room, and Lila's hand sunk behind the notebook in her lap, burrowing beneath it to rest between her legs, slinking beneath the layers of her knee-length sundress and running over her left thigh as she made out the shape of Helga's legs through the denim of her jeans.

She wouldn't imagine Helga being loving and tender to her. She wouldn't imagine all of Helga's passion directed at Lila, at her skin and at her lips. No, as much as Lila professed idealism in the realm of reality, in the realm of fantasy Lila preferred realism.

Maybe Helga would get so angry at her, or at the world, that she'd decide to take it out on Lila in a physical and aggressive manner, pulling on her braids and shoving her fingers into her forcefully. Or maybe she'd use Lila for affection that she longed for, riding her face until she came and thinking of Arnold the whole time.

Those seemed like much more realistic scenarios, ones that Lila could not stop herself with skepticism from imagining. The tips of her fingers stroked lightly over her lacy underwear, and the pad of her index finger cushioned itself gently between her folds, through the thin material covering them. Up and down they stroked, the top being reached with a shiver from Lila as she stared at Helga's back on the bed, the bottom being met with an acknowledgment of how damp she was getting near her opening.

Her other hand tugged at one of her braids lightly, and she kept silent, trying to focus on controlling her breathing.

She wanted Helga. She wasn't sure why. She didn't know or care if she was bisexual, if Helga was some weird phase for her, if these feelings were brought on by her lack of close friendships with girls (most seemed to hate her, and she was so confused as to why!), or whatever other excuse she could think of.

Maybe her interest in Helga was just primal. She liked this alpha girl, and wanted her to dominate. She wondered what it would feel like to be pressed up between those legs, handled by those hands...

And her hips push forward, against her fingers, out of her control. Her breathing is getting heavier, but it's still quiet enough that Lila feels no anxiety over being caught.

Helga's eyes had opened a good minute ago, and she stayed deadly still. She tried, with failure, to cloud the registry of what she was hearing with excuse after excuse. Maybe Lila was just uncomfortable, and shifting a lot? But then that breathing started, and Helga felt a wave of embarrassment rush over her like a fountain, trickling down from a hot feeling in her face to a tight feeling in her stomach.

There wasn't really a right way to react to this situation. Turning around and humiliating Lila would only lead to her own wave of shame and embarrassment at the entire situation. She could slowly fake waking up, enough to get Lila to stop, but she felt paralyzed and for reasons beyond her, continued to stay still.

Lila's posture relaxed above her waist, and she slumped further along the cushion she was resting against. Her legs parted slightly, and she sucked in a sharp breath as her finger pushed the slightly wet material covering her opening in, enough to tease herself with the sensation of the beginning of entry, before stroking back up to part her folds and tickle her clitoris as much as she could.

Finally pulling her underwear over to the side, her fingers massaged in circular motions between the moist folds of skin, and she glanced over at Helga once more, delighting in seeing her shift slightly. The movement in what she thought was Helga's sleep, for some reason, made her hotter. Perhaps it added excitement to this already perverted situation, that Lila knew she'd feel nothing but shame and guilt over once she'd reached a resolving point.

Helga could hear the soft, wet sounds ...they were familiar sounds, she wasn't a fucking moron, and she was completely baffled by Lila's behavior. Should she feel violated? Pissed off? Her thighs squeezed together in discomfort.

Helga's face felt hot. She tried to muster up disgust -- really, she should pound Lila's face into the ground for being so fucking WEIRD. Who the hell does this shit? Her thighs clamped tighter and she began to shift them against one another, fingers clutching the comforter of her bed. She heard a strangled sound come out of Lila's throat, tight and desperate, like Helga felt down between her own legs. A part of her was curious to see how far Lila would go.

The redhead, meanwhile, cupped her hand and began to slap lightly at her girlhood. She quickened the pace of the slapping until it was causing a very faint stinging sensation, before she pinched at her skin, hard, with her fingernails, picturing the rough treatment coming from Helga.

Her legs were wide open now, dress hiked up, and she tilted her head back to rest against the moulded beanbag, shaping beneath her to allow comfort. Her breathing became more hitched, and she tickled her entrance with the pads of two fingers, still tight and never quite used to penetration like so many other girls seemed to take with ease, but the tensing anxiety she felt as she plunged her two fingers inside and the accompanying pain only made her more wet. Helga was violating her, in her mind. Fingerfucking her violently and all she could do was whimper and bite back the urge to ask for more in shame. She was a slut for this girl who absolutely loathed her, and she wanted to get it hard and painfully.

Meanwhile, on the bed, Helga subtly began to rock her hips back and forth, teeth grit behind tightly closed lips. What a fucking weird whore Lila was, Helga thought, and listened to the slick sounds of penetration as she became wet herself.

Helga tried to think of Arnold for a brief second. Maybe it would make this situation more bearable. But the sounds coming from the country girl kept her grounded and brought to the horrific reality of the situation. The horrific, awkward reality.

Was Lila bold or stupid? Helga wasn't even sure at this point, but she felt you had to be both to do something like this and not expect to be caught.

She would know more than anyone.

Another muffled sound came from Lila, and Helga's brow furrowed as she sneaked her hand up to the button of her jeans, letting it rest there in temptation, as an offering to herself giving her the green light to indulge if she chose to do so.

Lila retracted her touch from her hole, muffling her own mouth with it, sucking at her fingers and pressing it tightly to her nose, imagining the scent and taste to be Helga's pressed up closely to her face. She had switched hands now, and her other one was now at work. Her fingers curled and made come hither motions inside of her, causing her hips to lift up off of the floor and push closer and closer against her own burning touch.

Helga's fingers fiddled with the button of her jeans, and she kept repeating the same motions with her thighs -- squeeze, relax. Squeeze, relax. It felt like some sick aerobics lesson that Olga would watch and she felt more angry that she was getting off to this, convincing herself that Lila deserved an ass-kicking afterward, unaware of her own hypocrisy for often doing the same to Arnold on the nights when they'd rest beside each other when they dated.

Just then, a knock at the door made Lila jump, and Helga froze in place, her jeans now unbuttoned and unzipped.

"Helgaaa..." Miriam's voice slurred quietly behind the door, sounding confused and disoriented. "Did'jyu... see where I put those darn keys? 'Cause I swear I put them in the little bucket thing... on the." Miriam paused for a good ten seconds, and Helga was almost hoping she had dropped dead.

"-- Never mind, they were in my hand."

Lila scrambled to push her dress down, flushed and distempered. Helga buttoned up her pants and then sat up, faking sleepiness and refusing to look at Lila just yet out of anywhere but her peripheral vision.

"Oh, you're awake now!" Lila quickly grabbed the pencil off of the floor, flipping through her notebook to a previously written draft in a desperate attempt to make it look from afar that she had been writing this entire time.

"Your Mother is such a character, Helga ... she's just ever-so-endearing." Lila smiled as Helga turned to her, still slightly short of breath, her freckles accentuated by the red flush that glowed at her skin.

"Uh, yeah, that's a word for drunk retard, I guess." Helga rubbed at her eye and stared at Lila, wondering if she felt any guilt. That smile was so genuine that it was almost creepy considering the situation. "You look kinda worn out. Is writing that exciting to you?"

There was a knowing tone in Helga's words that made Lila suddenly grow nervous. A sinking feeling dropped into her stomach, and she continued to stare at Helga with the wonder of a child, feigning a clueless aura. Elucidating innocence.

An innocence she was sure Helga didn't buy. Or was that just paranoia speaking?

"Um, I guess the pressure just has made me somewhat flustered," Lila offered the words to Helga, gently, yielding to her judgment, as her gaze averted down to the notebook. "I kept thinking of what a good writer you were."

"You must really like my writing, huh?" Helga said in a tone that wasn't smug, sadistic, or even playful. It was accusing and almost laced with a sneer, and Lila felt even more anxious under her watchful eyes.

"I'm ..." Lila trailed off, a frightened undertone to her now desperately friendly expression that was slowly turning into a submissive cower as Helga got up from the bed, walking over to the redhead.

"Look at me." Helga demanded, but Lila kept her petrified stare at the floor.

"I'm -- Helga, are you angry that I didn't finish the rough draft?" Lila squeaked apologetically, and let out a gasp when Helga smacked the notebook from her lap and grabbed her by the arm.

"Oh, cut the innocent crap!" Helga squeezed out with contempt, never liking spinelessness in people. "Do you do this type of perverted bullshit with everyone, or am I just special?" Helga yanked Lila's hand forward, smelling her fingers.

"No!" Lila tried to pull her hand back, a humiliated flush overshadowing the sexed one she had before.

"No, what?" Helga narrowed her eyes at the freckled girl, and Lila couldn't help but stare at her through glossy eyes.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think--"

"That I'd be awake." Helga interrupted her flatly, then shoved her back on to the bean bag. Lila held her dress down, legs crossed defensively, and she had pure shame written across her features.

"This is kind of rich, y'know! You secretly being some depraved freak." Helga smiled, but Lila didn't seem to find it very amusing.

"I'm ever-so-sorry..." Lila repeated, wiping at one of her eyes.

A part of Helga was kind of ... relieved? Because this meant that Lila maybe liked girls, right? Which also meant that despite how fucking hot she was becoming, she wasn't really a threat. At all anymore, really. If Arnold came back and saw that Lila had bigger tits than Helga (which she did), more curves than Helga (which she did), and a cuter face than Helga... it wouldn't matter! Because Lila was totally into muff!

Possibly her muff.

Further investigation was required.

"Quit your sniveling and whimpering, jeez!" Helga folded her arms and stared at Lila with a piercing scrutiny. All Lila Sawyer could do was bite her lip to prevent more apologies from flooding out.

"Take those stupid braids out." Helga commanded, dropping to plant her knees on either side of Lila, both of them sinking more into the beanbag.

Lila kind of hoped that at this moment, she could sink so far into the furniture that she'd vanish and escape. She complied, untying the ribbons from her hair, and slowly begin to undo her braids. She glanced nervously at Helga, trying to work quickly now as Helga straddled her.

"Better?" Lila asked, eyes lighting up in anticipation.

"Sure, sure. Now do what you were doing before." The demands continued, and Lila felt excitement crawl down her stomach and into her pelvis.

"I'm sorry, I can't." Lila blurted out honestly, unable to relax in this situation enough to concentrate on pleasuring herself. "I'm just ever-so--mmph!"

Helga's hand covered her mouth.

"I swear, if I hear that phrase out of your mouth again, I will rip your tonsils out from your armpits." Helga glowered, then removed her hand.

Lila grabbed at the hem of her dress, lifting it up to reveal her underwear to Helga in a timid manner, absent of any finesse or grace. Helga began to once again undo the button of her jeans, unzipping them casually.

"That does nothing for me, Lila." Helga apathetically admitted, worming out of her jeans, feeling smug at watching Lila's eyes leer at her when she revealed her own cotton underwear to the girl. "But that look right there does. You want to take a dive, don't you? I always heard people from the country were freaks, but I figured it was with animals or whatever."

Lila remained quiet, watching the blonde's movements carefully, entranced. Helga pulled her underwear down, moving over the redhead's face.

In between two of the books on Helga's bookcase, a small webcam was placed.

The images before it fed to BigBobsLilGirldotcom.

The feed was directly set up to Bob's laptop, and he breathed heavily as he watched his second favorite daughter dominate her redhead friend.

"Yeah, Olga..." Bob's hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking up and down. "Dirty little whore.."

I'm sorry everyone.

The end.

From the author...

I'm sorry ... I never meant to take the lie that far. But then I got a bunch of fans of this story, and I was too caught up in my fame to notice how I was hurting my loved ones... so I had to stop it while I could.

I'm really sorry you guys...

Of course, that was an hour after he suggested he might quit for the night, saying he had to wake up in 5 hours.

>>65535
Hurting loved ones? Lies? What the hell?

All I see is an unfinished story.