Rent-a-Daughter [R18] by forbidden_lust

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It was the biggest moral lapse in my life and yet, at the same time, one of the most fulfilling experiences I've ever had. It made me a criminal, but more importantly, it made me a father, and it all started with 'Rent-A-Daughter'.

The day I first heard those words seemed to start out like any ordinary day. I was working a little extra, by choice, in my home office, which was the second bedroom of my two bedroom apartment. I worked from home, making a decent living at a job that let me set my own hours. I considered it a great job, about the only good thing I had going for me.

I'm not making excuses, but when this happened, it was a pretty low period in my life.

I was unhappy, and had been for a while. I knew something big was missing from my life. Most obviously, I was lonely. I hadn't had a date in three years, and a girlfriend since I got out of college, six years ago. My dating life, when it was active, was not very notable either… my last girlfriend cheated on me and it pretty much wrecked me, making me too shy to try again. I guess subconsciously I didn't want to let somebody get close enough to hurt me.

I wasn't just romantically isolated either. I didn't have many friends aside from the distant, more-or-less anonymous types you make on Internet fan-boards. My parents were both dead, my dad of a heart attack when I was eighteen, and my mom eight years ago, while I was still in college. Both hit me hard, but I knew my dad wasn't healthy. Mom's death was so sudden and senseless. She was murdered in a robbery by a meth head, who was later killed by police. In the comics this would have made me into a grim vigilante, patrolling the streets looking for justice, but in reality, the whole event just left a hole that my ambition slowly drained out of. I pulled away from people, gradually, just by not putting myself out there. Sometimes I didn't blame my girlfriend for cheating, she said it was because I was emotionally unavailable and she might have been right. It was a wonder I was hired at all when I got out of school, but I had good marks and my company had an aggressive recruiter.

My life pretty much consisted of work, TV, weekly trips to the comic store, less frequent trips to the movies, occasionally out to eat, and every couple months an old friend would ring up and we might do something or a cousin would remember me and invite me over for a holiday. On those occasions, I was good at pretending I was more-or-less normal. I hadn't fallen apart on the outside, and could fake having a life for some time before retreating back to my fortress of solitude where I just… continued. It was like I was living in some kind of stasis bubble, outside time passed, but me, inside my little apartment, I was stuck, frozen.

Then one day, a knock at the door punctured that bubble. When I heard it, I put my work on hold, extricated myself from my work area, and crossed into the living room, through the kitchen, and to the door.

I peeked through the peephole first, it was only prudent. Through it, I saw a little blonde girl, probably eleven or twelve years old. She made a face at the peephole, an exaggerated grin that made me smile despite myself.

I knew her, but not by name. She lived in the apartment across from me. My place was situated at the very end of the hall, just around a corner. There were only two apartments around that corner, one was mine, and the other for the last few years was rented by her parents.

We never exchanged more than a simple hello, and more often polite nods of recognition instead. The mom was kind of cute, the girl was adorable, and the dad had a shaven head and looked perpetually tired, but other than that I didn't really know them, and I certainly didn't have much to say to them.

But I didn't have anything against them either, so I opened the door, thinking she might need something. "Hi," she said. She crossed one foot behind the other, seeming a little shy.

"Hi," I said. We stood quietly like that for a few seconds, as I looked at her. She came up to chest height on me, and was very slender, almost waif-like. I bet I could almost have closed my hands, fingers meshed, around her thigh. The girl wore a long-sleeved sweater-jacket over top of a thin white shirt, with blue slacks. Like I said, she was cute, although a little oddly so. Her ears stuck out, there was a spot on one cheek like a lone, dark freckle, and when she smiled there was a little gap between her two front teeth, and one of her others seemed just a little crooked. On an adult face, these might be a flaws, but in her case, it just somehow made her all the cuter.

"Hello," she said, greeting me again.

"Hello," I repeated. I curled my lip into a little half smile. "Did you need something?" I asked. "Did you get locked out or something?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?"

I had an instinctive, knee-jerk rush of fear. If I invited a young girl into my apartment, even if it was completely innocent, it might look the wrong way… and my thoughts were not completely innocent.

To my secret shame, I'd always found little girls attractive. I'd guess most people would call me a pedophile. Technically, I'd say I'm more of a hebephile, because my attraction peaks in the early years of puberty, although I've had some impure thoughts about girls who haven't quite reached puberty too. Most people don't draw the distinction, though, so why not go with the pedophile label? Don't get me wrong, I wasn't some child molester. I'd never touched a young girl inappropriately. All my girlfriends were around my own age, and I could get sexually attracted to fully-grown women, easily… but there was something about the sweetness of a little girl combined with innocence, and a tight little body on the cusp of womanhood that penetrated many of my most hidden, and therefore strongest, fantasies. I never once intended them to be anything more than an exercise of the imagination. The last thing I wanted was to hurt anybody, and trying to make a move on a girl would inevitably hurt them. But occasionally, I did things I knew I shouldn't just because I could later use them to build much better fantasies. When your only sexual outlet is masturbation, and has been for years, you tend to really focus on it, zeroing in on the most effective fantasies and anything that can be used to help forge a new one is valuable.

So I let her in. I never wanted anything to happen, but I thought I could imagine later that night that something did and have a particularly intense masturbation session. In reality, I intended that our interaction would be totally innocent. I even left the door open. I moved into the kitchen to give her room to enter without crowding her. "Do you want a drink? I think I have some Coke."

She shook her head, but then seemed to reconsider. "Okay."

I pulled one from the fridge and handed it to her. "I'm sorry, I don't think I ever learned your name."

"It's Madeline. Most people call me Maddy." The can opened with a slight hiss as she cracked the tab.

"So, what can I do for you, Maddy?"

"I was just thinking, Mister…" she trailed off, inviting me to supply my name.

"Brown. But you can call me James, if you want." Yes, my name is James Brown. I've heard all the jokes. Maddy was probably too young to even know who he was, so she didn't make any.

"That's okay Mister Brown." She giggled a little. "Anyway, I was just thinking how it's odd that we've lived next to each other almost half my life and I've never been inside."

"I'm sure it's pretty much like your place," I said. I didn't want to give her too much leeway in my apartment, although she had the kind of face you just wanted to give in to. I bet her parents spoiled her.

"Actually, I wanted to ask your advice about something. Me and my dad got into a fight because I wanted an iPhone and some designer clothes and he said it was too expensive. He said that he couldn't afford to get me what I wanted, just what I needed, and that if I wanted anything extra I should save up or find a way to make my own money."

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but he's probably right about that."

She frowned a little. "I know. That's why I'm here. I'm trying to start my own business."

I raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. "So…" I ventured, "you want to sell me some cookies or something?" It was the only way I could think of that little girls made money, although that was for school fundraisers.

"No, silly." She put a finger up to her lips. "You know, that's a good idea too. But I had an idea for a business that I don't think anybody's ever done before." She leaned forward and whispered, "Do you have children?"

"No," I said.

"Do you wish you did?"

I thought about it. "I guess so." I probably wouldn't have admitted it to somebody my own age, but kids had a way of disarming me. I did want a kid of my own, even though I knew I should never allow myself to have one because of the fantasies I harbored. I never really considered it a possibility, either, given my lack of the usual prerequisite of some kind of social life.

"My dad says nobody's ever complete until they have a child of their own to love," she said.

"He might be right about that, I don't know."

"That's why I thought of my business. I call it 'Rent-A-Daughter'. I rent myself out to people without kids so they can find out what it's like

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