Chapter 336: New Homes

I’m not even asking why that happened, but I suspect Mary, Skylar, or both.

The next two weeks were hectic for me and those in my Sultan’s apartment. Children arrived from all over the state. They didn’t all have the same backstory, but the majority were physically, mentally, or sexually abused. Their parent(s) were undergoing long-term psychiatric care or were in jail. Others were great kids, from great families, who ended up on their own, sometimes along with other siblings, when things went sideways with their parents. Around half were living with someone who had control of their trusts from their parent’s life insurance and having it quickly drained by the same someone.

I didn’t know so many kids were orphaned every week in freak accidents.

What amazed me is how the new arrivals quickly decided they liked it being clothing optional and cohabitating in a bedroom with the opposite sex. As I got to know the kids here, I found out that only a few were having sex many times a day within a small group of boys and girls. This group always used some form of protection, sometimes more than one. Other kids were more trying to find out what was the big deal about kissing, cuddling, sleeping together, masturbation, oral sex, and even going all the way to fucking. The trend was that they experimented briefly before getting over it. My house staff grew in direct proportion to kids arriving but never shrank when some kids left to return to their homes or go live with a caring relative. All-day and night long, the staff kept the kids doing something to keep them from going into a funk. If they were awake and outside of a bedroom, they were herded back to the common area to do something.

Daily I went to the complex where these kids would be living soon. The construction crew painted specific apartments to colors that each child found soothing. From the historical data on each kid moving here, and what they learned from those at my sultan residence, the people running this show hired and assigned a caregiver to a group of apartments connected by a shared suite. Each kid was getting their own private space in the suite. A group of siblings had their own dedicated family space consisting of a shared family area and private bedrooms connecting to it. Each bedroom had a small dorm-style refrigerator, but the kitchen area moved into the bigger suite. Everyone in the suite is going to learn how to cook, clean, do laundry, and the other things needed for the bigger group in their suite. Their assigned caregiver, or two when required, spent their youth in group homes and dedicated themselves to helping other kids work as a pseudo-family.

Part of ensuring that everyone here is safe and don’t fall victim to those who could prey on their various weaknesses, the entire complex had no less than two cameras, with microphones, covering every inch of the grounds. All the audio and video feeds were multiply-redundant, sending data streams to multiple hosted and dedicated server farms all over the U.S. The software analyzing the video is so advanced that is can tell shaving bumps from a rash. The goal was for it to compile massive amounts of data on everyone anytime they were anywhere inside the complex. One of the primary goals is to analyze behavior patterns to look for anomalies.

“We already have thoroughly testing algorithms which identify the most common indicators of something which affects the baseline behaviors of a person,” a member of the psychiatric computer AI programmers explained. “For instance, take a kid who rarely bathes, either because they forget, or are opposed to regular bathing. If we begin to see that the child starts showering daily, we flag it for a more in-depth analysis. The stats show that the reason for this change in personal grooming habits comes during puberty, but not always. Suddenly switching for bathing a few times a week to multiple times a day is often an indicator of some form of sexual assault that causes them to feel dirty. Some children become obsessive-compulsive about cleanliness. The AI will analyze all interactions between this child and everyone in the complex. As the AI learns more about observed human behaviors, the better it will get at detailing the analysis for a very select group of professionals, who are external to the complex. They combine their notes and the computer analysis to provide to the appropriate staff at the complex.”

A short, sun-deprived, bright-eyed man excitedly explained, “I can’t wait until we go live for my AI code to begin learning again to prove or disprove its analysis of various interactions. My personality quirks have limited my exposure to the female reproductive cycle and how their hormones affect their behavior. My AIs know more about girls and women that I do, though that isn’t saying very much. I have run millions of videos regarding these subject matters and want to see how accurately it analyzes live data.”

I watched three different women on the team come over to explain to this man that his having OCD about their sexual needs wasn’t a bad thing at all. Everyone has needs, and they always make sure his needs are covered. Their relationship was perfect from their standpoint. They took care of each other sexually, satisfied their desires to be held by another, and during their time of the month, he doesn’t go without sex because the three women’s periods are like clockwork and don’t overlap.

He has his cake and eats it too, without having to worry about the crumbs.

What excited him the most, at least intellectually, is to identify when one of the children begin looking at their caregivers as a possible teacher about sex. Or any adult-child situation where one of them begins grooming the other for a sexual relationship.

“My code isn’t as complicated as his, but it does analyze the sexual behavior of those inside the complex’s grounds. It targets initial sexual exploration between two people and their sexual responses. It even attempts to flag cases where it is obvious the participants don’t have a clue how to put tab A into slot B. It is meant to be a teaching tool, in some cases. The goal of my code is for it to also reach out to caregivers and doctors to begin age-appropriate sexual education discussions. I ended up in a group home right as I hit puberty. The place was overcrowded and short-staffed. When I started having sex, it was more for something to do that killed the boredom. Not until I moved to a new group home did I find out that I was doing it all wrong, especially using cooking oil, petroleum jelly, or lard for lubrication,” this cute blonde woman told us.

I watched the horror pop up on the faces of the other women, and a few men, in the room after she said that.

“One of the girls sharing the bedroom with me got my dirty clothes from the bathroom and laundry bag to do out the laundry. She saw the telltale oil stains in my panties. I didn’t know what this home was going to be like, so I made sure I was ready in case it was one of the bad ones where I would get poked by the older boys and men. I hadn’t been in the bath long when both of the foster parents came in carrying baskets of things I didn’t recognize. One of the boys living there got in the tub with me, but he had on a Speedo. The top of his boner was poking out the top of the waistband. Everyone else ignored it. The foster parents explained that one of the four girls in my bedroom recognized the stains and smells. She told my foster parents, and that is why they were here with a boy in the tub with me. I know now that using oil-based products for lubrication did way more harm than good. When I asked them if the boy was here to have sex with me, they laughed before apologizing profusely. They explained that when I was oil-free, I would know why it was a boy instead of a girl,” she continued telling me. “Except for the pain from losing my virginity, all I felt when getting poked as pressure and movement followed by the hot gush when they came in me. I apologized when I thought I had peed while he was getting the oil out of my pussy. He explained that it was what I should have needed to screw instead of lard. He ate me to my first ever cum, followed by fingering me to three more. I never let him ask if I wanted to screw. After what he did for me, I was going to let him poke me until he felt great too. I sat limply in the bathing chair as he washed his cum from inside me half an hour later. We never had sex again, but only because we instantly bonded like a brother and sister. I bonded with everyone like they were my real family, and that is what they became a month after I moved to their home. The family adopted all nine of us. I was the latest adoption. All nine of us were inseparable, doing everything together, except when taking a shit. Peeing in front of each other was fine, just not when crapping. Our foster parents did remind us that we couldn’t tell anyone that they let us bathe and sleep together. I didn’t have sex again until college.”

“What has that to do with your code, other than trying to see how horny you made us?” one of the other guys asked.

She blushed before answering, “Sorry. That fond memory is what drives me to succeed. Fumbling around when learning about sex is natural. Needing to oil yourself up so a guy can poke you isn’t. Back then, I equated sex with love, so I never noticed that they didn’t love me. They just wanted a fuck. One of my adopted sisters said she was the one fucking without a care for the guys. She couldn’t count the number of boys where she pulled down their pants, laid them on their backs, and ground her wet pussy on their dicks until they got hard. Well, that is unless she got off from grinding her clit on their dick before they could get hard. She said she could fuck a boy and keep him from getting off without having to stop. When my sister got all of hers that she wanted, she left the guy hard and wet.”

The woman that asked that question commented, “Can she teach me how to do that? It takes me forever to get close to getting off during sex, and I’ve only cum from sex twice in my life.”

“You do know that for women, sex is more in their mind than from her body,” I explained.

She disagreed. I spent three days getting her worked up to have sex with me without us ever taking off our clothes or doing any heaving petting. The fourth day I ramped it up. Anytime I was near her, I could kiss her lips, cheeks, and neck. At the same time, I let my fingers drag over her skin lightly, down along her exposed cleavage, sometimes sliding under her bra to where I almost touched her puffy nipples. She didn’t make it until lunch before pulling me off to a room, locking the door, stripping me, stripping herself, and then shoving my dick inside her. She came for the first time as soon as her pussy bottomed out as our pubic hair mashed together. I rolled her over to start fucking her. Her orgasms were intense as I worked up to be ready to cum and then moved around to put my dick in her mouth before unloading. She didn’t mind finding out she was wrong about sex.

We spent the weekend testing out the various cameras in the bedrooms, for validation purposes, she told me.

Two days before the kids moved from the apartment to the complex, the doctors descended. To do their initial exams efficiently, they set up exam tables in the common area in the Sultan’s penthouse. Those who chose not to wear clothes weren’t shy about anyone seeing them naked. We had a group of twenty-two girls and eight boys who no one here had seen naked. Four girls stayed dressed due to scars and cigarette burns from child abuse. I spoke to each of the rest in private. Only two turned out to have anything worth needing to meet with the doctors in private. Both had huge clits that were the size of an inch and a half long dick. The doctors told the girls that their problem wasn’t as big an issue as they made it. Their clit developed while their lack of nutrition kept the rest of their bodies from maturing fully.

For the rest of the kids who stayed dressed, girls would have one breast a different size than the other, odd pubic hair growth patterns, or still had a bald, little-girl pussy with a woman’s tits and body. The boys were a mix of small, short dicks with big balls, or an average-sized dick and little boy balls. Each met others there who had similar puberty issues. Nothing was abnormal.

I kept all the children in the dark about where they were going to live now. Many gave me dirty looks when they took their bags with their clothes and meager possession out to what looked like a prison transport bus. The doctors at the complex wanted to gauge their reactions as they went through the various gates secured by armed guards, guard dogs, and robots patrolling the perimeter. The plan was to bring them into the intake area, which is where new kids coming to live at the complex went through a gauntlet of doctors doing exams. They would call each kid by name to stand in one of many numbered lanes. Each lane had two male and two female caregivers assigned. Once all kids were lined up, their caregivers escorted them to the common area for that group’s floor. There they would get split up into groups based on the suites and caregiver.

The dirty looks turned to angry scowls when I arrived in a common area for two groups of kids. One contained three groups of siblings, while the other only had two. I watched three of the kids looking for something to attack me as the caregivers read the rules and explained how it was going to be here.

I only found out that on the way over this particular building that all the kids in kid jail, for their protection from their families, arrived first. The two largest groups had all their cousins and siblings waiting for them just inside their family areas with the doors closed. I walked in with the three groups of siblings. The caregivers arranged everything to make this one of the happiest moments in these kids’ lives. Once I had closed the door to the floor’s shared space, the caregiver turned off the lights. The only light in the room came from the clocks on the stove and microwave. They had no idea that I saw everything like daylight, even with only that small amount of light. All the kids moved here from detention centers moved to where they were in front of their families.

When the lights came up, the correction center kids pulled their nearest sibling or cousin into a big hug.

I got to be the one to tell this group, “Welcome home, kids. It isn’t a big house in a neighborhood, but you all have a room of your own, which connects to a private area for your family. Each room comes with a full bathroom, so no more needing to share or wait to get a shower. The family area also has two half-baths and a full bath, for guests that you aren’t letting use the one in your bedroom.”

“This sounds great, so what is the catch? Are we all in some government reeducation camp now?” an angry girl asked.

A sibling from the kid jail pulled the girl into a hug until the girl calmed down.

I smiled as I said, “Yeah, there is always a catch, isn’t there? For starters, no one gets into the complex without being permitted. Anyone trying to get inside will enter the guest reception area and have to explain why they should get access to the next section. The people vetting those given access to the second reception area are very good at their jobs. Those in the second tier reception area make hardened criminals sweat and consider if they are sure they want to continue trying to get in. The third area’s staff have terrorists giving up everything in the hope that they get the chance to run out the way they came in. Those permitted to proceed to the fourth section are fully-profiled. The staff knows what the person has done, where they’ve lived, their entire criminal and employment records. At this point, the security team knows precisely why they want to see you and what they have done to you. If deemed safe for this person to speak with you, that person will go to a secured visiting area. Everyone else gets the option of leaving or waiting in a detention area with everyone else who wishes to do you harm to you in one way or the other, including fucking with your head.”

Some kids needed a bathroom break.

When they returned, I explained how they had the final say if they wanted to speak with their visitor. If they didn’t, the staff would escort the visitor from the grounds. Now those people in the detention center don’t get to have an in-person meeting. The kid, or kids, would be on a video chat with the person in the detention area, seeing a live, hi-def video feed with crystal-clear audio. Their visitor saw them on a standard definition TV-quality video feed that only showed when the kid, or kids, chose to respond, after a five-second delay. Staff monitored the conversation and would shut down the visitor’s video and audio coming from the kid, but kids still had their live feed to let them hear and see the reactions.

“But do you want to know the best part?” I asked and got very excited acknowledgments. “To get to the final area, their dirty laundry is now on the record. If they have anything criminal, they are turned over to state or federal police, along with their video-taped and signed statements regarding their crimes. Any showing signs of mental illness get a free ride to the top mental health facility in the state for an evaluation that takes no less than a month to complete.”

“Fuck yeah!” a boy yelled. “Can I call people to tell them where they can come here to try to visit me? My parents were morons who did what they were told. Others in their family did nasty shit to my sister and me. I’m not saying my parents didn’t do plenty of shit to us that they should fry for, but these other assholes are still out there doing to other kids what they did to us.”

My implant pinged me to check my phone.

When I looked at my phone, I showed it to the kid to say, “Are these them?”

Those he didn’t confirm as being the people who did unspeakable things to his sister and him, his sister, or cousin confirmed that those people did it to them.

These are more of the people the families cast out or who decided to keep doing what they wanted against Darren’s and their family’s orders. Well, except those working for them.