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Rhonda Gets Broke 2: The Dirty Diaries	By : TimedWatcher Category: +G through L > Hey, Arnold! Views: 7539 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Helga exhaled a sigh of relief. No sign of those gaudy heels Olga had an affinity for these days. Not that Helga was high on fashion or anything, but those things just looked GROSS -- all plastic looking and they just seemed so uncomfortable to wear.
Helga tried to move quickly past the low roar of the TV in the den, Bob's patchy sock covered feet up in the air on the recliner, his beer fisted in his bear like claw.
Bob could barely tear himself away from the television, but he also didn't want to get up, so he acted fast. "Helga." Helga stood in the doorframe with her head down. "I heard about your rich friend being in the poorhouse... that whatsername... Rochelle? Ruby?"
'She's not my friend, BOB.' Was her initial go to response, but she held her tongue, not wanting to go into all her externalities that he surely couldn't give two licks about. "Her name's Rhonda, dad."
"HO-JO-FU-!" Helga nearly jumped at her father's explosion from his seat. Bob managed to stop himself, knowing not to swear in front of that child... you know, the one that always wears the pink bow. "Catch the darn ball willya!" Bob sat back. "Where do they import these guys that they don't know how to catch a dang ball!?" He swatted his arm out at the air, basically talking to no one as Helga had tuned him out.
The sound of liquid upturned again. That jugband noise as he constantly swiped his lip off and onto the bottle -- no doubt filled with backwash from the platter of chips and dip he was munching on. Swigging after almost every word -- criminy, why did he need to drink just to talk to her?
But as much as she complained, at least the fat oaf never got totally sloshed like a certain mother she could name.
He sat back, pushing down on his tanktop as it exposed a bit of his hairy gut. "Yeah yeah, sure, Rhonda." He motioned in some general direction, almost missing her entirely as he sat back up in his seat. If they missed this down, it was all over. "Just tell Riley I might have some work for her at the emporium."
Helga gnashed her teeth at even the idea of doing something so trivial on Bob's behalf - what was she, a carrier pigeon? But Helga wasn't some lazy fink either, and if the opportunity ever came up, she'd let her know. Maybe the garbage dump princess could use the leg-up. "Sure, if she ever shows up to class, I'll mention it first thing! And is there anything else I could do for my darling daddy!?" Her eyes fluttered half-heartedly, as Helga could barely keep up the faux preppiness, not that he was paying attention enough to 'get it'.
"Huh? Oh." He waved her off. "Go help your mother or sister or something. Like that kinda arts and crafts crap you girls do."
Like she had nothing better to do -- and what? Old Baron Bob doesn't even know Olga's not in to worship him?
Bob scratched himself now that Helga had stepped away, hearing her stomp upstairs.
If the rumors were true about Rebecca, he was gonna have a lot of-
"YES!" His elation was shortlived, as Bob watched the ball spiral right, then torpedo into the crowd. "NO NO NO NO! HOW CAN YOU MISS A GOAL THAT BIG!?" Bob facepalmed, hiding a pained grimace that might have resembled the closest thing a man like him could call crying. "Haaaaaaaaaaaargh- that's another 3,000 bucks down the sink."
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Rhonda stood in a large banquet hall surrounded by hundreds of well dressed men, feeling like the center of attention.
She had unofficially invited herself to the hotel conference, more or less getting by the few door men with a charming look and spinning a long yarn about her father's trade. Several speaking engagements and tours were running through the area simultaneously, and that meant one thing:
Men. A lot of them. Flying in from all over the country.
She wore a subtle and slim tiara style headband with baubled pearls along it in her shiny black hair that had a hot curlered waves down at both of her shoulders, and non-descript chandelier earrings resembling carved ice dangling and sparkling just the way she liked her jewellery.
On the soft of her back where she'd be her most vulnerable was a tied off bow from a loop in the dress, alerting the men visually that she was waiting to be unwrapped... for the right price.
She would have broken out the armlength velvet gloves if they were in her price range, but with having to pay her own rent and food bills, little frivolities like that had to get the cut sadly. Still, she did look absolutely darling and her mirror checks went beyond just making sure everything was fitted, but actually just enjoying seeing herself in the getup.
Rhonda didn't want to insult her customer base, and she was happy to oblige -- but what did they care about how she dressed anyway? Would they really say no if she was still dressed in her raggedy old clothes from when she first started? Heck, she could show up naked to this very event with a steak stapled to her and these ravenous dogs would just barbecue it once they were done with her.
Oddly, despite being a child, she felt at home here trying to sniff out the truly rich from the white collar worker bees. Even so, despite the way her life had gone so drastically wrong, Rhonda still thought of herself as above them all. They would have been cogs in the machine to whatever company she inherited from her daddy... whatever he did. The men all had their stories. Some were wifeless, some weren't even trying to hide their wedding bands and brazenly gave her their information, a few trying to mask it underneath job offers for secretary positions -- an attempted method to show-off to her that seemed utterly pathetic considering her age and education. Still. Rhonda thought of each and every business card she collected as a golden ticket.
Rhonda realised the upgrade in clientele she'd be getting here compared to the hicksville she currently resided in. Omigosh, what if one of these guys asked her to marry them like that movie? Rhonda swooned, hands clasping as she caught herself. Rhonda thankfully had the space for the giant rock on her ring finger, staring longingly at the imaginary piece that would soon reside there if she played her cards right.
How would she even broach the subject? 'Hi I'm Rhonda Wellington Lloyd, I still attend third grade and I'm not married but I'm currently seeking for that special someone.'
Not that there was ANYBODY else in her life...
Nope. Nobody.
Frankie who?
I mean -- who needed a hooligan like Frankie... even if he had a huge... thigh trembling... knicker gushing... gargantuan...
Rhonda stopped herself from drooling.
Others here... were... well... light in the loafers. Complete wastes of time, and it was like they could sense it, trying to extend the conversations while Rhonda searched for any polite exits she could take.
Her mingling got her a little parched. While pouring herself some punch, she figured it'd be a good way to spy out the men she hadn't talked to. Lifting it to her face, there was a strong scent of alcohol laced in the juice. Rhonda whipped it back, scrunching her nose and tightening her eyes as it burned her esophagus. Rhonda let out a gasp while slapping the top of her bare chest, the slinky black dress hanging off her shoulders. "Whew." She remembered when she would have gagged at... whiskey? before, but with the amount of men with this stuff on their breath she's had to kiss, it was something she had acquired a taste for, something she wasn't proud of, wishing her life had taken her down a road of aged wines and the most expensive champagnes.
A disgusting bear of a man then approached her. Were they serving all you can eat sushi? "Rhonda? You Rhonda?" He had a kind of a dumb looking babyface behind crooked wired glasses. His dark hair was extremely short with the only volume to it near his forehead, parted and combed to the side. It might have been stylish in his country, but he just looked like a dork here.
The man spoke to her very slowly, as if that would help her understand what the heck he was saying. Still, Rhonda smiled and nodded. He seemed worried, checking over his shoulder sometimes, but it seemed more played up than actual nerves. She had actually met nervous guys who could barely sign language out at what they wanted from her with a point to their crotch, but this guy wouldn't stop talking -- though obviously she didn't understand a word of it. She kept herself polite, a raised eyebrow and a swishing of her body with attention towards him, the nearly empty glass held aloft in her slack wrist.
"Money for good time. Yes?"
"You know what my fee is, right?" She threw out as a general question, ready to explain.
"Hai!" He hurriedly nodded with a bow.
Crisp hundred dollar bills fresh out of an ATM were laid out before her.
Her eyes lit up. After Rhonda realised he was serious and paying more than her usual, she snatched each of them up quickly, snapping the top of her rhinestone red purse. With a firm click, the strap cast upon her shoulder, she gave a brushing slide across his back, curling the finger back towards herself as it left him. Rhonda motioned to her bare arm, feeling his hook in the ring she made, then proudly walked out with the slob by her side.
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He was a doughy man, a ball of flesh with a sunny side up chest; his business suit properly folded over a pulled out chair which she could have mistaken for garbage bags if not for their fine material. His sour milk complexion would be enough to make her regret her decision, but his body was a complete wreck from top to bottom -- he must have done sumo wrestling as an old career and tried to slim down after.
The asian man, had as she predicted, a relatively small wang that nearly disappeared into his shrubbery -- but when it came to unappealing men, the smaller the better -- but Rhonda didn't have the condom necessary for his kind of size. Rhonda had to pause and think if this was really worth it, but the money was too good, and passing up a contact like him would just hurt her career.
She crawled onto the bed with him, standing awkwardly on the cushioned surface. The bare and naked fourth grader stood confident before the fallen giant on his knees, hands on her hips as she stood at a slant, her ass firm and high, swaying slightly, her legs slim as twigs, her right toes curled into the tightly packed sheets, the heel of her foot swivelling.
Despite how perfect her body was, from her taut tummy and supermodel physique, to her fortune cookie shaped smooth pussy, he couldn't work up the courage to look at her directly, stealing glances then quickly retreating. Moving slowly and masking her curiosity underneath a guise of sultriness as she approached, Rhonda leaned in, careful of where she stepped as his knees cratered the bed. He acted timid to her touch, trying to snake away from her as her hands massaged into his chubbiness. How odd. She was the child and he was the adult.
"Come on-" She stifled a giggle. "Rhondie's here to make you feel all better." Rhonda pretended to bite into his shoulder, her teeth running softly off him. "Harf, harmf." It was the most initiative she ever had with a client, his clear shyness preventing him from asking her to do anything, as his breath escalated into snores from the back of his throat. Rhonda even started to consider not doing anything, because unless he asked, then she really wasn't obligated...
... but there was something in his moonface, a softness that even worked on a jaded slut like Rhonda, and the idea of scamming a foreigner, even if it was deserved, just didn't seem right.
Rhonda hoped she wouldn't regret doing this...
She fell before him on all fours. On this level, she checked on his groin again, maybe thinking his belly had just gotten in the way -- but nope. He was just really small. Despite it's size, it had a strong energy, the browner skinned dong protruding from the crow's nest of unkempt and stiff looking pubic hair. It was only a minor growth, but it had a rigid stiffness that even she could appreciate, thinking that men of his body type couldn't maintain that kind of erection usually.
Yet oddly... Rhonda still felt that magnetism she got from some of the fitter men she encountered, her eyes glancing up to him as she crossed the gap between them, catching a shadowing sight of him as he could easily fall atop her and cover her whole body. Being suffocated by a client was usually not one of her worries.
Reaching underneath his ample apron gut, she stuck her thumb and index finger out. He was barely four inches -- but she pressed those same fingers underneath it, feeling it throb. He wasn't thick either...
Rhonda tugged at his firehose style skinniness, his thing already covered in a layer of swampy moisture. She raised up, then brought the back of her fist down, meeting his sharp and curly dark barbs. She repeated the familiar gesture, trying her best to put on a sexy face, kissing out her lips and winking. "OH! RRRRRRRGH!" Rhonda felt a hot trickling.
...
Already!? Really!?
Rhonda hadn't done anything and he was already mouth breathing, making her worry about a possible heart attack. She would have ripped her hand away in annoyed disgust, but her experience on the job dictated otherwise, as she allowed her fingers to get glued to his shrinking penis with one last jerk. The man folded over, panting. Rhonda retracted her hand, which was now slimy with a lumpy load that dripped onto the expensive looking sheets. She looked over with annoyance to her condom and tissue filled purse, which she left tucked between the legs of an upholstered chair.
Rhonda turned back, and she was surprised to find him back in the position from earlier, no longer struggling to breathe.
Had he-
He had.
Using his beefy thighs, she laid down flat before him, her tongue falling out of the corner of her mouth as she squinted into the artificial cavern. The foreskin was tight, but while regrowing, it wrinkled like a worm, tapering and drooling like a mental patient that was nearly falling off his bed, but soon, he was hard again. Rhonda stuck her head in, his flab pressing against the back of her head. She nearly pulled away from her spelunking journey, her perfect hair matting with a bit of his nasty skin grease. She pouted with a start of a cry. "Huhn-huhn-" Then Rhonda sharply inhaled, trying to remind herself what she was paid for. She had done and been through worse. Why did she expect high-society men to be any different than inner-city ones?
There was no escaping his musk, face to face with his stinky cock. Sure he stunk, but not in the usual way -- like his real reek was obscured by the smell of his cum. She kissed his tip, then tentatively tongued it's underside, and now she knew what that smell was, as she tasted a pissiness -- but the dried kind and not the fresh kind. Rhonda was sad to admit she knew the difference, because the fresh kind, but when it lingered, it could peel the paint off walls. Rhonda didn't understand, she asked him to shower. She heard the water running through the walls.
Wait. Did his stomach... act like an umbrella!?
Before Rhonda could struggle out of the cove, she felt him topple onto her, his strong hands wrapping around her waist. He thrust into her mouth, his prickly animal pubes tickling her nose, causing her to wince. Her eyes watered -- not because of his dick, as it didn't even come close to reaching the back of her throat, but the smell of his stretched stomach and unwashed skin began to make her head swim, building a nausea as his urine covered pecker slip and sliding along her tongue.
After a few more pumps, he burst down into her gullet. "URP!" Her cheeks filled to burst before oozed and drizzled out. Rhonda flailed, clawing to freedom. Even as uncouth as it was, Rhonda motioned like a cat about to hack up a hairball. "FEH PEH PLEH PLEH, YUCK!" She swiped her chin. "How dare you, you, you-" She fixed some of her messy hair. "Dis-GUSTING-" Heave. "APE-" Rhonda spat.
Despite not knowing the language, he could tell he had done something wrong.
From the bedside table, he flipped open his wallet and pulled out two more hundreds.
Rhonda sighed.
Now on her back, a stern look on her face as she watched with quiet contempt as he put on his condom, the man smart enough to bring one for his nub, as he struggled with it, requiring both thumbs and index fingers to cinch it on.
Looking satisfied with the snug hold it had on his manhood, he clambered atop her, Rhonda worried for a second as his form's shadow swallowed her whole, and then his body engulfed her, now laying atop her like a beached whale. With his embarrassing body encasing hers in a layer of blubber, he began to hump her, though it looked more like he was just rolling in place. Still a tight squeeze, Rhonda's moan was quiet and quick, refusing to give him the time of day.
Planting his arms beside her head, both of which looked like they could crush her head, he sideswiped her face with his tongue out, the thing bigger than her fist. It slobbered over her with a disgusting sticky slime. Rhonda grit her teeth, looking about ready to bawl, before he parted her lips and invaded her mouth, drenching the corners of her lips. "N-nlm-nmmf-" Rhonda kept wanting to say 'no', but hid her true feelings behind little squeaks and throat noises.
His breath was awful -- but what was worse was the taste of the inside of his mouth, reminding her of bathroom floors she had been paid to lick before. "Uhlhllhulhuluh, hnnnluluulhll..." He flicked his tongue over her teeth and against her gums, an invasive quality that no western man had ever partaken in, an obvious sheen around her face now. It was just so strange that Rhonda couldn't even say she was uncomfortable.
Glomming onto her face, he swallowed her lips whole. "SLUUUUP *POP*" The disgusting sounding slurps began, like her face was a bowl of ramen. There was a look of disgust on her part; his eyes shut, her eyes open, but Rhonda still couldn't stop herself from blushing. Despite it being her job, a lot of guys didn't like to kiss her, and so it still had a degree of intimacy that she secretly appreciated.
He moved away, his hamhocks digging into her ribs, almost bruising her skin, before they moved up to tweeze her tiny erect nips. "Hahn... hahn... hahn..." His grunting clear as his hot breath hit the cooling circles of spit drying on her face. Rhonda expected him to pop sooner rather than later, so her eyes cast adrift on the rest of the room, her disinterest clear as guesses of pricetags cha-chinged into the air, overlaying on the high scale decor of the hotel room.
Her breath got shallower and shallower, and her attention now was back on him. He huffed and puffed, his face turning into that of a pig. Rhonda sneered in disgust, thankfully in a way he didn't notice with his nose pointed forward, the man snorting in delight. Rhonda, realised the situation she was in now, as that feeling of unease crept over her system as his his mass continued to bury her.
Her unease being that she was starting to enjoy it, as he managed to maintain his strokes without relieving himself inside her early. Rhonda couldn't believe this porker was causing her to shudder. The man had a consistent rhythm, kind of like an animal, his lazy mating pressing and obscuring her whole body. She tried to wrap her legs around him, but his body was too big, so they instead flailed about near his obese thighs. Rhonda might as well have been a broom handle between the legs of an elephant.
She bit down, her teeth gnashing. "Uuuhnuh! Uhnuh!" She was trying to say 'oh no', but he knocked it out of her with every bump. She encouraged him by caressing his flakey and dry elbows. The bed really began to quake, creaking as the man's pace picked up, his disgusting fatass rippling like ocean water. Her hands pawed through his folds, grabbing hunks of blubber to squeeze. Rhonda couldn't BELIEVE this tiny dicked fatso was actually driving her crazy.
Her eyes hit the back of her head for a second, before they flung right back, a piercing quality to them as they laser focused. "OOOOH FUCK ME! FUCK ME YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD!" She hoped he didn't understand what she was saying, but maybe he was smart enough to know what he was doing to her. Her ankles dipped up and down in the air, her toes curled then flexed, then curled then flexed.
He shouted something out, planting down firmly into her, giving her his all, practically absorbing her into himself. Rhonda threw her head back, tongue out, her feet bound into a C shapes, her nails clawing into him to no effect. "AAAAAAaaah..." She squealed out in a high pitch, her whole body convulsing, before wavering down eventually.
After catching his breath, he attempted to rip the tip of his condom from her, but her tight young cookie held on, Rhonda clenching her hips and thighs at the sensation of his attempt to pull out of her. He yanked back once more, resulting in a snap. The encased white loogie hung droopy, impacted like a fist through gelatin, the plastic wrap glistening with her young juices.
Rhonda cooed, her legs still trembling, a hand laying across her stomach, feeling the way it rose and fell rapidly, her other across her forehead feeling it's intense warmth, wishing he was still inside her -- but Rhonda was ashamed of herself.
This slovenly PIG made her orgasm...
What next? Actual animals?
He bowed between her legs. "Sankyu, Rhonda-Chan."
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Rhonda Gets Broke 2: The Dirty Diaries