Chapter 314: The Big Questions

That is the sixty-thousand dollar question.

One of the girls thought it over for a minute before answering, “I can’t speak for other girls or women, but the question of why is the reason I am in therapy. She and I have known each other forever. We are great at making people think we’re smart because we are quiet and keep to ourselves. But let us face reality, David. She and I are smart enough that we won’t be cooking fries for the rest of our lives, but just barely. We’ve known this all our lives. We tried a lot of trades, like plumbing, electrician, construction, and things like that. All we were good at doing is being a housewife and soccer mom. In middle school, our bodies would bounce back from having a baby faster than they will now. It doesn’t matter too much anyway. Our bodies give guys of all ages wood. The main reason for having a baby is to show our future mother-in-law that we have baby-making hips and big tits to breastfeed them. Their sons get a piece of ass to fuck to give him children, clean his house, do his laundry, cook his meals, and look damn fine when we are hanging off his arm.”

“We chose you, David. We wanted to be sure there is a good chance our first child wouldn’t be a dumb blonde like us. Our dads are blue-collar, and our moms do odd jobs outside the home to help ends meet. It isn’t that two dumb people make dumb kids, that is just what happened to us,” the other girl told me.

If they are this dead-set and have worked with their therapists to get their heads around why they want to have a baby, then I guess I give them what they want. That is unless the place in my head won’t let me.

After both had a load in their fertile pussies, they went to sleep with me. I woke up to find my bed filled with little girls, naked little girls. Not a one had any signs of starting puberty in the next year or so. Their seven little hands on my morning wood pulled me from my slumber. All but two of the girls let my dick go when I sat up and moved against the headboard so I could see what was going on. The other hands were back on my dick when they saw I wasn’t mad.

“Who are you girls, why are you naked in my bed, and what are you doing touching my penis?” I asked them.

One moved up to kiss me on the cheek before running from the room. In a minute, I heard my phone start speaking in a girl’s voice.

Well, that explains at least something.

A girl jumped when she heard the voice from my phone.

“Huh? How? I’m confused,” she managed to say after it looked like she was straining to take a shit.

The voice that came from my phone was hers. One girl showed her absolute delight at having exclusive access to my dick when the others moved from the bed to hear their voices coming from my phone as it spoke the messages they sent me. I could see the phone screen. Three, including the girl whose phone they were using, used the odd patterns some Autistic people seem to understand. All the others were only texting me through the app to have it would speak in their voice. When the girl examining my dick finished, she pulled my arm around her shoulders and whispered into my ear that she had a very extensive vocabulary. She also spoke three languages fluently and would speak when needed but liked to keep quiet.

My bladder reminded me that I needed to pee. As I got up, the girl came with me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us. I planned to do the “lean” to try to piss without peeing on the back of the toilet. She reached down under my balls and did something that made me go limp instantly. I don’t know how she did it, but my shield had let her hand through, and there wasn’t any pain, just a brief sensation. Her small hand lifted my dick to aim me as I started to piss without even trying. She shook me off, as if she did it all the time, and then moved me out of the way for her to pee.

“One of the time-saving tricks one of my nannies showed me when I was six. Boys don’t mind a little girl going to help them use the bathroom when the alternative is a catheter. My nanny told me that if I didn’t do the squeeze that makes their pee-pee stiffy go down, then they will pee all over the place. Unless I liked cleaning up urine, I had to make them soft again. Even when soft, the boys still can’t aim their pee correctly to only go in the bowl. That creates more work for me, so I learned how to aim them and what to do after,” she told me as she peed. “Yours is the first big one I have touched. A few I helped had some hair. The rest haven’t gotten any hair yet. I haven’t gotten any either.”

Without asking, she used a washcloth to wash my dick, balls, and then butthole with soap to get off the sex smell, which affected the other girls out in the room. She told me to watch the change in the girls when I returned. It would be unmissable.

You have that right!

When I went back into the room, the girls were still having a blast hearing their voices coming from my phone. Some are a bit off due to the computer algorithms not having enough phonetic sound data. One looked over to see me with my dick hanging down and immediately got very modest. A hand went over her pussy, and an arm moved over her non-existent tits. She rushed over to her neatly folded nightclothes. Turning her back to me, she slipped on a pair of panties and then a sleepshirt. Other girls noticed her wearing clothes. When she pointed at me, the other girls also freaked out about now being naked in the room with a man that wasn’t part of their immediate family. They grabbed nightgowns, pajamas, panties, and sleepshirts. A girl had one foot in her panties when she looked up at my dick. She looked over at the bed, back to my dick, and then started laughing.

When she finally managed to get herself under control, she sent a Molly Speaks message to my phone that said, “Why am I dressing? We slept nude in his bed all night with him and explored his boner all we wanted without asking permission. His touch comforts me. My naked body against his felt nice.”

A few girls stayed dressed, but the others stripped again. It seemed a bit wrong to me to have these little girls naked in bed with me, but I knew they wanted to have skin to skin contact with someone that didn’t make their skin crawl. It now seems that whatever makes that happen also calms them and also let them enjoy their naked bodies touching against the other naked girls. I didn’t think much more about it as we all went back to sleep. I awoke to nannies dressing the girls in nightgowns to take them to wherever they were supposed to be last night.

“We apologize, profusely, sir. Those assigned to care for them overnight didn’t notice until three AM that the girls were all missing. Following the protocol, we contacted the managers, who called the owners. They directed us to check your suite for some unknown reason. How these girls managed to travel the distance between their part of the resort and here are unknown. We have no security footage. When we verified all girls were present in your bed, we notified every one of their locations,” one of the nannies said it in a way that made me think I was going to rip her a new asshole and then fist her. “How is it that you had them sleeping skin to skin with you and each other? Many require diligence to avoid contact with their skin while doing our assigned duties.”

I held back my laughter at all three women staring hungrily at my dick. At least they were until I pulled on some shorts.

Going to three girls, who were quite obviously concerned about what touched their skin, I told them to get their clothes from last night, started dressing them, and said, “If that isn’t the ten-thousand-dollar question. I have no idea. One of my best friends is a highly functional, extremely smart, but undeniably autistic. None in her family can touch her unless they heavily sedate her, or one of her siblings needs her to hold them. She doesn’t dislike holding them and knows it is something they need right then. If you saw her with me, you wouldn’t say she didn’t like someone touching her. Maybe I have some scent I give off that makes them not mind my touch. I watched you trying to dress these three. I can’t tell you how I know, but they like it when you help them get dressed but hate the material of the clothes you are putting on them. My best guess is that with Autistic kids knowing they won’t cringe if I touch them, I’ve picked up on some of their special needs.”

“I will say, sir, that there is something exceptional about you, besides your well-built body and long dong. We work for a special-needs care provider. Our service dispatches us to locations throughout the U.S. to care for children whose parents want to have their children along but are unable to care for them when away from home. These girls are orphans or permanently removed from their biological parents who were unable to care for them. We have boys in the same age range. A private benefactor hired our service to care for autistic children like them. Recently we have begun taking them to locations, such as this resort, to be companions for other autistic children whose families hire us to help with their special needs child,” another nanny told me. “If you do not have other commitments, could we please beg for your help dressing the boys and then aid us in feeding them?”

My phone said, “We can all feed ourselves perfectly on our own. We are not babies.”

“Who said that? What game are you playing, girls?” a nanny asked.

With an exasperated sigh, I said, “Give them your phones. It doesn’t matter which one you give them too. I’m going to guess they already know your pin.”

I got dirty looks from them. Two of the girls needed to start practicing magic. Both had every one of the nanny’s phones without a single nanny noticing they managed to pull them out of wherever the woman had them at the time. It didn’t take long to add the Molly Speaks client app on each nanny’s phone and pair it to each girl’s Molly Speaks app.

“Welcome to their world. I hope you read fast. I’m pretty sure Molly has a limitation on the length of a message the app will speak in the autistic person’s voice, provided it has enough phonetic data to generate it,” I explained. “Molly is amazing. She has given them an app to allow autistic people to communicate who couldn’t otherwise, or dislike speaking to those to whom we feel we have nothing worth saying to them.”

No good deed goes unpunished. Fortunately, the nannies were the ones the kids punished.

After dressing, I went with them to help get the boys dressed to eat. While not babies, some of the kids did have motor control issues that got food all over them.

On the walk, the girls were using the Molly Speaks app to tell the nannies a lot of things they hadn’t been able to say verbally or through other means that worked them. I heard one girl saying how she always wore skirts, dresses, or very baggy pants because they don’t like how panties feel on her and the nannies kept taking away the boy’s briefs. I explained that a boy’s briefs had more room in the crotch versus the tightly contoured design of panties. Many of the girls stopped, turned, and gave me a nasty look while blushing when I said that the flap gave them easy access to play with themselves without it being as apparent as a hand in their panties. Going commando gave no way to hide the physical signs of Jilling off.

In the oversized suite that the kids all shared, the nannies went to tell the others that they were going to see me do magic.

The two girls were already doing their magic of getting the remaining nanny’s cell phones without them noticing.

I completely ignored the one in charge as I got a pair of panties from the bins of girls’ clothes and put them on one of the boys. The boy jumping up into my arms to give me a big hug confused the hell out of her. While it looked like magic to them, it wasn’t hard to watch the boy’s eyes looking at the bins where there were clothes made from materials that they liked. Two boys kept eyeing the pink polyester nightgowns in one of the drawers. I knew they didn’t care one bit that these were for girls.

The head nanny dropped her, just recently returned, phone when he said, “Finally! Leah hates those yucky things and panties, but she loves my underpants and pajamas. We always try to swap clothes, but they keep finding out and changing us.”

I heard, “You know sign language. I told you a dozen times to stop making me take off his underwear and jammies.”

Breakfast was eye-opening for the nannies too. Each kid told them what foods they liked, which they didn’t, and why. I attributed some to the girl’s age when they said how they loved broccoli and all types of beans because it made them have farts that were loud and stunk. One girl let out a fart as a nanny’s phone spoke out to not let one of the girls have broccoli and beans with certain foods because it made the girl’s gas smell like rotting corpses. I saw the lights come on over the heads of some of the nannies after that statement. A few kids didn’t want to communicate using any method, but the rest passed the phones and tablets around to tell the nannies what they needed and liked.

Pulling those off that didn’t want to communicate at all, I told them, “I’m not going to make you tell them what you need or want. I will tell your nannies that you aren’t dummies and only being stubborn. Have all the meltdowns you want. If you don’t tell them, somehow, what you want or what is wrong, they can’t help. I’m pretty sure you at least communicate with one of the other kids. If nothing else, let them talk to the nannies for you.”

I can’t say if my little talk helped or not. When I left, all the kids that didn’t communicate with the nannies were going around the table to get someone one to put tiny bits of the food they wanted on a plate before doing the same with their cup. One nanny caught on to what happened. I had to laugh as I watched one of these kids start dancing around in his chair as a nanny served him some portions of the food he had on his plate. He even started humming away happily as he ate. I snuck out when no one was looking.

Who cares if it was because I made one of the nannies phones start playing a techno remix of some song about a baby shark.

I went to another of the spas and picked randomly from their menu. The first masseuse did a great job, but it felt rushed, and the session ended ten minutes early.

My next one was something called a clearing factor treatment. Using sea salt and kama oil, they exfoliated my body. I don’t know what toxins they pulled out with the thing they did on my back, but she said it was something integral to Chinese medicine. I then got a full-body wrap with black clay, and then I relaxed for an hour before washing off the mud. The woman rubbed me down with oil everywhere. When she started undressing, I pulled on my robe and left the room. Where I signed the bill, it already had a thirty-percent tip on it. I didn’t question it with them.

I had signed up for Nâga Massage, whatever that was, but they didn’t do that in this building. While I planned to be naked, as I had during the other treatments, they provided me a pair of shorts. In the room, I laid on a mat. The woman used standard massage techniques initially before she started using the silk strips, hanging down from the ceiling, as part of the massage. It was different. I don’t know when I fell asleep, or even how they managed to move me without waking me, but I awoke in a warm spa pool, naked, with three nude women.