"So Sinless and Free"
By Kaliko Kat

Note: This is a work of fiction, totally made
up. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or
dead, or any resemblance to any real events of the
past, present, or future
is complete coincidence.

This version is rated PG-13?

~ ~ ~

        I couldn't believe my foul luck. I had thought polio to be an extinct disease,
but here cruel fate had dealt me a disease that I should not have gotten.
I, Christopher J. Howell Junior, CEO of C. J. Howell and C. J. Howell Incorporated,
had been struck down by the most insane disease anyone could possibly get in our
modern era. I felt that the universe was laughing at me.

        What was even worse was that the hospital had to make room for higher-priority patients,
and they insulted me by not making me one of those high priority patients. The nerve!
And then, to add insult to this second injury, I ended up in a home for the mentally retarded.
I suppose there were other people there whose minds were normal, and they merely had some
physical handicap, but it was primarily a home for the mentally retarded.

        Admittedly, I was not a nice person to be around back then, especially in my new predicament.
I complained bitterly and frequently, I often snapped at people for the slightest things,
and would knock over things or people who I felt were insulting me or patronizing me.
Of course, it didn't help that my father's death was still fresh in my mind.

        In short, I was an absolute dick. A foul-tempered little beast who was in pain and
didn't want to admit it. I had lost all love of life, and was in the depths of despair...
but the way I showed it, you'd think I was just a cantankerous aging twice-divorced man.
I was thirty at the time, after all.

        Yes, I was in pain and regardless of how I complained, deep at heart I felt I deserved
everything I got. I wanted to die, for it all to be over with, but I was always too cowardly to
do it myself. Besides, suicide is the least dignified way to die. So I had no idea what was in
store for me at that place. I didn't expect to fall in love there, of all places.

        I don't remember which day it was that I first noticed nine-year-old Emily Weedon playing
nonchalantly in the home's common room, though I do remember seeing her fall multiple times and
skinning her knees. Every time this happened, she would yelp in surprise and pain, and then continue
playing as if nothing had happened. The home's staff were constantly patching up her cuts and scrapes,
but to her it was all a fun game. She laughed a lot, that's another thing I'll never forget about her.
I'm not sure what was wrong with her, but she said very little, and laughing seemed one of only two
emotional sounds she could make. Her vocabulary was that of a toddler, and the staff had to remind her
to speak when she wanted something. There was also an innocence and naivite about her. She could be
quite a conversationalist though, when she wanted to be.

        At first, when she would fall down and then not seem to notice it, I would think mean things,
like 'She's too stupid to notice she's injured.' Over time, however, I came to envy the child's purity of
innocence. No matter what happened to her, life couldn't hurt her. She might get hurt physically, but
nothing ever hurt her emotionally. Oh, she could show disapproval, dislike, and disappointment for sure, but
nothing ever seemed to scare her. She charged at life head-on and never let it frighten her, unlike many
children these days. In truth, though I had never had Emily's power to ignore pain nor her pure innocence,
she reminded me of myself as a child, for I had been possessed of a similar fearless determination to succeed.
It was one feature of my personality that most helped me in the business world.

        I don't know when I first fell in love with her, either, but I do recall when I first realized I
loved her. It was June of 1999, and I was feeling especially crabby. After several failed attempts to walk
without my crutches, I gave up and slumped back in my favorite arm chair. Normally I would've used my crutches,
but I didn't have them within easy reach, and I felt that if I didn't get the remote to change the television
that I would snap and try to strangle someone... for the TV was set to PBS Kids. Not only were the shows insipid
and all too happy, they also reminded me of my children who had all grown up and moved out.

        Emily wasn't afraid of anyone, even me. So soon after I had given up trying to walk on my own, I saw
her adorable black pigtails bouncing towards me. She came right up to me [I fear I shall never know why],
leaned into my lap, and looked me straight in the eyes. As I glimpsed into her gorgeous blue-and-brown eyes,
I realized there was an intelligence there that she had never seemed to show. Yes, she was mentally challenged.
Yes, she couldn't learn words very easily. Yes, she had a superhuman innocence and ability to ignore the world's
injustices. Despite all that, though, she was still an intelligent child. I doubt I will ever know the nature
of this intelligence, but there it was.

        "What do you want, Emily?"
        "Lap," she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Knowing her as I did from watching her before, I knew better than to argue. Whatever I said, she would act
as she pleased. "Sure," I said, resigned to my new fate as a piece of furnature.
        She smiled and laughed that bubbly, uplifting laugh of hers and climbed up onto my lap to watch the
television. It was Arthur. I myself had seen this episode so many times while at the home that I could recite
it by memory even now, so I figured there wasn't anything wrong in engaging Emily's attention.
        "What kind of creature is Arthur supposed to be, anyway?"
        Emily frowned in thought for a moment, seemingly trying to answer. She must not have been able to find
the word, because she soon gave up and shrugged.
        "I heard, I mean I read in the books," said another resident, "that Arthur is an aardvark, yes he is."
        "Thank you, Klaus."
        "You're, you're very welcome sir."
        "So, Emily, do you like this show?"
        She merely nodded. But then, as she often did, she turned her attention and her head around to face me.
Her jaw was a little slack on one side, but when she smiled she looked almost normal. Though she wasn't
smiling just then. Rather, she was examining me thoughtfully.
        "You woo... you wook gwumpy."
        A wan smile cracked my usually cantankerous visage at this. "Well, I feel grumpy."
        "Why?"
        "Well, I'm not used to being sick, I suppose."
        "That's awl?"
        I had to think for a moment or two before I could respond. "No, I guess not. My... well, I've
        never told anyone else this, but my father died a few months ago. I inherited the company, and now
        here I am stuck, unable to work."
        "Miss you daddy? Me too. My daddy aw gone 'way."
        "Really? What happened to him?"
        "He go 'way and said he don' want me."
        My own problems seemed stupid then, and my eyes began to water. "That's awful. So sad. I don't
        understand how anyone could do that. My own children were normal, but I loved them all and I can't
        see myself not wanting one just because they weren't normal."
        "You a daddy?"
        "I sure am. My kids are all grown up now, but I'm still their dad."
        "Would you be my daddy?"
        "I don't know. I think it would be nice being your daddy, but it's not up to me. Do you have a mommy?"
        "My mommy wuvs me still, she come here too."
        "Well that's beautiful. But it means I'd have to ask your mommy if I could be your daddy, and we'd
        have to go on dates first before I could ask her that."
        Emily made the most heartbreakingly adorable sad face in reply, complete with pouty lips. It was
just too much... I knew she was hamming it up for me, so I laughed. This made her smile, knowing I saw
through her ruse, and she laughed along with me.

        The next hour and a half were devoted to the two of us horsing around. I couldn't move my legs much,
but we played together, joked around, and had a very fun time anyway. The staff and residents alike were
stunned to see that Emily had broken through my barriers so easily and revealed the true person inside, but
they didn't question it.

        When the staff called out that it was supper time, someone handed me my crutches and Emily hopped
off my lap. It was then that I noticed I had an enormous erection. I turned around a little on the pretense
of having difficulties with my crutches in order to hide the evidence, but as I was doing this I knew something
I hadn't before. That I was in love and lust with a little girl. Not just any little girl, either.
I, Christopher J. Howell Junior, CEO of my own company and 44 years old, was in love with a mentally
handicapped nine year old girl.

        All through the meal the implications of this chased each other around in my mind. I ate mechanically,
not paying attention to what it was. (Even five minutes after the meal I was unable to remember what we'd
had.) All in all, I was feeling very confused. Upon looking into my past, however, I began to see a pattern
that had always been there. I remembered my past as a deeply loving and rather frisky child, my few childhood
romantic encounters, and a habit of noticing little girls. It had taken me this long, however, to notice myself
noticing. It was, as you might be able to guess, a rather disconcerting self-discovery. All this time I thought
I had been normal, and I hadn't been. Maybe all that was happening to me had been for this reason... to show me
what I was.

        Emily wouldn't let me wallow in these new thoughts, though. As soon as dinner was over and she'd been
taken to the potty, she came back over to where I sat in my chair and wanted to play. I was reluctant at
first, but she insisted, and I came quickly to a decision that there was nothing wrong with feeling the
way I felt. You can't help how you feel, but you can help how you act.

        Things went much like this for a number of weeks. Days were my physical therapy, and afternoons
I spent with Emily. Before long, I had grown to anticipate with excitement our playtime. I was a lot easier
to get along with as well, and I felt much calmer. I was even getting over my father's death. He had been
very old, after all, and had died peacefully after a long and fulfilling life. I knew I didn't want to die a
bitter old man, so I let life be good again.

        One day I was given a bit of a surprise. Emily came over to me and tried to pull me up.
        "What're you doing," I asked.
        "Walk wit me," she said imperiously.
        "Fine, fine. Let me get my crutches."
        I gathered up my crutches and started walking behind Emily, who was impatiently leading me along.
        "I'm coming, be patient. I can't walk as fast as you can."
        Eventually, we made it to the destination... her room. I got nervous at this turn of things, but it
wasn't needed... it turned out she wanted to watch a new movie of hers with me. She closed her door so as
not to disturb other people, and put the tape in the VCR.

        It was a comedy, something by Jim Carrey. Maybe 'Liar, Liar'? At any rate, we both sat in her big
rocking chair and watched it together. She laughed at almost everything, which led me to laugh. Emily seemed
especially taken with the scene where Jim Carrey's character is being punished for his honesty about how
the sex with his female boss was. I still don't know how much she understood of it.

        After the first half was over, she got up and went on her own to the nearby restroom. I hadn't known
she could go to the potty herself, and I was right. There was only silence from there for a while until she
came bursting out and laughing up a storm in only her... well, 'diaper,' for lack of a better word. It turns
out she had been getting unclothed in there. I found out later that she loved being unclothed in her room
when the door was shut, and was famous (or infamous) among the staff for this practice.

        As you could no doubt guess, I was quite aroused when she sat back down on my lap. Not wanting to
alarm her, but knowing that I had to hold her the way I had been before or she would insist, I put an arm
around her belly. When I did this, my hand found her back and the soft sensation of her young skin under
my hand gave me a bigger hardon than usual.
        Not surprisingly, it wasn't long before she noticed this. Her attention shifted away from the movie
and onto me and my enormous erection. She bounced up and down on it a couple times.
        "What's that?"
        "That, Emily, is my, erm... my willy. It's what boys use to pee with. We do other things with it too,
         but that's the main thing it's used for."
        "Why's it hard?"
        I was blushing bright red at this point. But I thought I might as well be honest.
        "That's because the other thing we use it for is sex. Sex is a form of adult play done in private
        that often is done to make babies, though not always."
        "Babies an' pee fwom the same place?"
        "Yes. Girls do the same thing. The place you pee out of is also where a baby would come out, once
        you're old enough."
        "Weally?" She pulled her 'diaper' forward and looked in awe at her girl parts. I had to will myself
        not to look.

        Emily surprised me then by taking her diaper off. Always a nudist at heart, she smiled and giggled.
She, in all her innocence, saw that there was nothing shameful about her body and that there was nothing
shameful in looking at it. She knew that if God had meant us to not look at naked human bodies that we
would be born with fur or with clothes on. She knew that to be nude was to be free. And she chose that
moment to set herself free.
        "What are you... Emily! What...?"
        She giggled again.
        "I nekkid," she cried triumphantly, "I free!" She locked her door, and got back into my lap again.
I couldn't believe it... mere weeks after realizing what my feelings towards Emily meant, here she was
naked in my lap.
        "Hold me," she commanded. I, knowing better than to argue, complied. I held her in a warm, loving hug.
Really, whether she was naked or clothed, the temptation was always there regardless. Neither one was really
more difficult, I found. In fact, having her naked was a little easier once I got past the nervousnes,
because when she was clothed I would imagine her naked and have this strong desire to undress her.
Now that she had undressed herself, it was easier to avoid temptation because I had this eye candy to admire.
I was still very glad that she had her door locked.

        The rest of the hour seemed to last eternity and, at the same time, end all too suddenly.
We weren't even paying any more attention to the movie now, being too intent on being close to each other.
She tried to get me to get naked too, but I explained to her that it would take too long to get dressed
again if someone used their key to get in. She seemed to understand this, and stopped asking.
But we still sat there, and I ran my fingers over her nude body (avoiding her private areas) and through
her hair.

        Of course, it was eventually supper time again, and we had to get ready. I helped Emily with
her diaper and her clothes, and we went out to the table to eat; the whole experience was still burning
hot and delicious in my mind.

        The very next day, Emily took me into her room again, and again locked the door. Once more I
felt heaven coming to me as she stripped naked again, laughing the whole time. Again I held her while
we watched the same movie, but I did not touch her on her private places, which I counted her little
behind as one of these.

        We got into this routine for the next couple of weeks, but sadly it ended. Eventually, the vaccine
they'd been giving me every Friday kicked in and I got better quickly. I was back to normal by mid-July,
and I no longer had to stay.

        Of course, I was a changed man because of Emily. Well, changed back to my previous nice self again,
at any rate. I also now knew I was a 'child lover' (that's a term I have since learned, as an alternate
way to say that I'm... well...). So of course, I visited whenever I had a chance. Emily was ecstatic
every time I would visit, and sometimes we would just play and spend time together while other times we
would sit in her room so my little nudist could be free. She was so sinless, it was a shame she couldn't
be free all the time.

        I spent years as her friend, coming over whenever I could. I even helped her learn more words
and how to read. She still hasn't developed her vocabulary beyond the fifth-grade level, but she's learned
enough in her time that she can work; it turns out that she had a case of fetal alcohol syndrome that wasn't
too severe, but enough to impede her learning and leave her with a slightly slack jaw. At any rate, I now
have her working at my company helping out at the day care center for the children of my employees, which is
something that I added after I recovered from my disease. She loves reading to the children, and I love
watching her do it.

        When she turned 18, I confessed to her about how I was in love with her, and had been for a very long
time. She was both happy and embarassed by the confession, but I soon found out that she had been in love with
me for a long time, too. So that year we began to date. Which meant that the only real change was that we saw
even more of each other, and went out to eat a lot. Her favorite restaurant to eat at is McDonald's,
which I don't mind.

        After three years, I proposed to her, and she accepted. We've now been married for ten years, and we
have a nine year old daughter, Dakota, who was born normal. This wasn't surprising, considering the nature
of Emily's handicap. Dakota was, by the way, named after Dakota Fanning; Emily became quite taken with
Dakota for her role as Lucy in the movie "I Am Sam."

        Anyway, I'm writing this because I am 52 years old, Emily is 32, and Dakota is nine. By the time
Dakota is 18, I will be 61. I'm writing this in case I don't make it that long. I'm still in excellent health,
I eat well, and I exercise, but you just never know. I've known men healthier than me die of a heart attack,
so I'm writing this in case I become like one of those men.

        So while I'm still healthy, I'd like to state that my will is all done and in my vault under the sofa.
In it, the company will go to Dakota if she wants it. I asked my other children if any of them wanted it, and
they all had their own lives so they said no. If Dakota doesn't want it either, then it will go to whoever
the board votes for. But the bulk of my personal account will go to Emily and Dakota, with fair shares to
my other children. Also, ten grand will go to Strength United, the name of the home Emily lived in for so long,
where we first met.

        To Dakota, I love you my darling daughter. If you're reading this, I've died. Look after your mother for
me, please. Give her a kiss from me as often as you can. I hope you live a long, healthy life, and I hope
you're not too sad at my passing. Some day we will see each other again.

        To Emily, I will always love you. I have always loved you for as long as I've known you.
You brought love to me when I was at my worst time of sadness and anger. You've given me no end of joy,
and I would even sell my soul to Satan to save your life. Such a thing has no price, and I cannot thank
you enough for it. If you're still alive when I have died, then I'm sorry I was taken when I was,
and I pray you'll have a great life without me. We'll see each other again in Heaven some day, Emily.
I love you, Emily, always and forever. Give Dakota a kiss for me, please, as often as you can.

<i>Christopher J. Howell died on October 23rd, 2030
He is survived by his loving wife Emily, 40, and his loving daughter Dakota, 18.
Mr. Howell was 61 when he died.</i>