Chapter 527: Making The Rounds With The Kids

You don’t want Molly coming here. She will have April and her doctor deal with you while I fucked Molly’s pregnancy itch away. That would piss off Elise.

I spent the first few days with Elise and Ariba’s family, working through converting what I equated to digital-ish sounds from a group of kids and adults into something people could understand. They all suffered from the same recessive genes in their family’s bloodline that became dominant due to inbreeding in the family. Instead of a pair of vocal cords, this group had four thin pairs with a millimeter between them. People heard unintelligible sounds or babbling. It was instead four different sounds produced by air passing over their four pairs of vocal cords.

Is this a defect or evolution? What did the place in my head do to let me create those same sounds?

A quick chirp was a whole sentence. A second of baby-babble turned out to be dozens of words. The thing that was causing me the most problem was getting a phone app to de-multiplex the four different sounds and then translate them into words. While the phone’s CPUs could handle the needed processing, the microphones weren’t good enough, and the analog-to-digital conversion only outputs at most three of the frequencies. As with most languages, something said with one inflection meant something different than the same word pronounced differently.

I started getting highly frustrated when a few of these kids led me into a Radio Smack on steroids. I didn’t know what most of this stuff was, but the kids there did. I told them what I wanted to do, and it seemed that they had been working on it for years but weren’t having any success. They had tried to record their sounds, but while they sounded the same to most people’s ears, it was more harmonic than the correct sound.

One severely Autistic, to the point of being heavily drugged most of the time to allow them to do personal hygiene, came over to the table. The others were surprised to see the boy with bright eyes and highly focused. He ambled around to get various items from the monstrous amount of electronic parts. It took him some time to get what he wanted, but soon he had them all on the table in front of me. I could tell he wanted to do the work but didn’t have the fine motor skills to work with the small electronics.

The boy did have a USB microscope connected to a nearby computer, which he connected to an HD TV on the wall. Once he had the various electronic parts showing on the TV, he put a soldering iron in my right hand and a wire in the other. It wasn’t like any soldering iron I had seen before. This one had a wheel on the side that fed solder out the hot tip of the soldering iron when I turned the wheel. The modification looked homemade.

He pulled out a foam-tipped extendable pointer from his pocket and then tapped multiple times on a spot on the TV. I soldered the wire he gave me onto that spot. He tapped another spot, and I soldered the other end of the wire there. Once I got what he wanted me to do, he would give me a wire color-coded by length. After a few times, I could find the suitable wire I needed. When he saw I had that down, things moved faster. All he needed to do was to tap the two points where he wanted me to connect a wire, and I did it. Once finished with all the soldering, he connected test leads from the computer to spots on the thing we had made.

The TV screen changed over to being an oscilloscope.

He got a box that had tuning forks at different frequencies. The boy would tap a tuning fork and move it over microphones with analog-to-digital converters, and each microphone had a unique color for the line on the o-scope. One of the microphone modules didn’t always generate a trace for some frequencies, so he had me replace it. Once happy that this device worked how he wanted, he did something on the computer and then moved over behind one of the girls. The boy reached around and pinched both of her nipples, and nothing she could do would get his vice-like fingers to stop pinching and twisting.

She let out all manner of curses, threats, and finally moans. The moans were only using one set of vocal cords. When she put her hands over his to not have him stop, he let go. He turned the girl around to face him and started French-kissing her like a seasoned pro. His hand went between her legs for a fraction of a second. That is all it took to get her over the edge.

He typed out something on the computer that generated sets of frequencies needed to tell her something, but it didn’t work correctly. Instead of what he expected, there were only four sounds played simultaneously. He kept trying and then got frustrated. I stopped him from bashing the thing I helped him make into pieces. I held him to me until he didn’t have the strength to keep fighting to get loose, and his voice was hoarse from screaming.

When he tried to have the computer play different sounds together again, it still didn’t make any words or phrases. That is when I realized he was frustrated because it should have worked.

“They all have a genetic trait that caused them to have four pairs of vocal cords versus only one, a fraction of a millimeter apart. Each set moves independently from the others as air moves past. Wouldn’t there be a tiny delay between when each one can make a sound due to the spacing between them?” I asked him.

He got the o-scope up again, went to the same girl, moved her in front of the first microphone, and then poked her with his fingernail. She let out a “chirp,” and then he positioned her in front of the next microphone. He let out an identical “chirp” each time he poked her with his fingernail. After hugging and kissing her on the cheek, he went back to the computer.

He shifted all the traces around so the lines started at the same spot. Working with the o-scope, he measured out something and then returned to what made the multi-frequency, multiple sounds. He played the original one, and the girl shook her head no.

The first two adjustments didn’t do anything, but the third made the girl cock her head to the side questioningly.

Now that was not a nice thing to say!

He quickly adjusted the timing again. Instead of getting beaten senseless, he suffered being mobbed by the group of “chirp” kids. The computer didn’t say precisely what he meant, but what came out had much more emotion. Knowing what he wanted the computer to say, I got it back into the o-scope and somehow knew to change it so that the new line colors would be different from the last time.

As these kids fully understood their family language and English, I went over to the girl that the Autistic boy had been using to make his recordings. I had her say what he was trying to get the computer to generate with the proper timing. That is all he needs to get the timing down correctly.

Most of these kids got bored and left, but the girl he had been poking and sometimes kissing remained.

The boy returned to the various bins to get cell phone-sized microphones and tiny components. Using some software package, he used code to specify what he wanted the circuit board software to do to the layout of his physical challenges, and Autism wouldn’t let him do it himself.

Because he couldn’t type very fast, he made a program having macros using combinations of the Ctrl, Alt, and Shift keys to spit out blocks of program code. His only typing was putting in the things specific to this project.

When he liked what the program showed him, he sent it to a 3D printer that printed dual-sided circuit boards. With the microscope and TV, he showed me a picture and orientation of one of the tiny components and where to put it. Once I soldered it into place, it moved to the next one.

Some of the components were bad, and I had to replace them. We finally got everything set and then went back to poking at the girl with his fingernails to make her “chirp.”

With the microphones being closer together, the time between the traces decreased.

For all his poking her, the two started kissing again.

Being distracted, they didn’t notice me uploading a design into the computer directly from my implant. The printer cranked out a slightly larger circuit board than the one I had just finished building under the boy’s guidance. I found everything I needed from the bins all over the walls and shelves. One of the things I had on the bench was an Arduino board. Both kids were still making out by the time I completed soldering up the new circuit board.

A woman with the same genetic traits was watching me work. With the boy and girl off in their little world right now, I asked if she would help me. I used her to help with the stuff I was trying to get working on now that I had a way to get the four sounds recorded and converted to digital signals.

I made her a deal. She would close her eyes and tell me how my fingers touching her made her feel, in detail, as I adjusted the programming in the part that converted what came from the microphone into digital signals.

I know what she is saying, whereas the boy doesn’t.

All four microphones had the sensitivity to pick up the individual sounds. When the first microphone detected the woman began to make a sound, it triggered a timer that turned on the second microphone after the slight delay between when the first pair of vocal cords began to vibrate and the next ones started. I took what the first microphone heard and passed it to the circuit for the second one to filter out. I did this across the other two microphones. Once finished, the microphones filtered out the other three. It all came down to timing.

I ended up redesigning the whole thing. The microphones were always on, but when they picked up anything, the last three ignored it for a few nanoseconds, allowing the first microphone circuit to pass over what to filter out. The following microphone would find whatever sound had a similar intensity but wasn’t what the previous microphones picked up.

By the time the device picked up the fourth set of vocal cords, it had the filters in place so that each microphone was only picking up a specific pair based on the delays. When the sounds stopped, the filters were removed, starting with the first microphone and cascading through the fourth.

I took a long walk around Elise’s home in the forest with the woman who helped me.

When we returned, the Autistic boy updated the designs on his computer.

Some assembly robots pulled components off the rolls of tape to do most of the work building the microphone device and filter system I made. He was poking at a different girl this time, but the “chirp” was the same.

“Ow! Quit It!” came out of the computer speakers a fraction of a second after she made the sound.

After dinner, he came to sit beside me on the couch. He pulled my arm around his shoulders and leaned in against me. Yet another one of the girls from the family came over to us. She moved his knees apart and sat with her back against his chest. One of his hands slid inside her pants and the other under her shirt. It didn’t take long for them to both be naked. Multiple times she tried to get his dick in her soaked pussy, but he pushed her away. Finally, she gave him a stern look, grabbed his dick, and sat down on it.

I know that hiss of discomfort and moans of boldly going where no man had gone before.

He caressed her body as she worked for the thirty-plus minutes it took for the boy to finally cum inside her. He stayed rock hard when she slipped off his dick, and another nude girl appeared to give him a ride. Three more got his load inside them after giving him their cherry.

I started to stop him when he fished my dick out and began trying to get me hard. One of the older girls that had the four sets of vocal cords came over to suck me. She got all nine inches in her mouth and throat. As she worked to suck me off, the boy went behind her, lined up, and popped her cherry before he started trying to fuck her. The problem was that he didn’t have the coordination or stamina to do it for more than a minute. One of the older girls in the family came to use my dick for more than a lollipop. The older girl moved over to the Autistic boy and screwed him until he couldn’t get hard enough to cum inside her again.

That was all he could handle for today, and he fell asleep with my arm around his shoulders as he leaned against me.

“You know you are one of the sweetest guys in the world, David?” the woman slowly riding my dick asked. “Those girls and women that had sex with him aren’t exactly like his wives or harem so much as his to make women and impregnate. While he is part of our family, he isn’t a blood relative. When the group of the heads of families died, we sort of inherited him. I know that he had so many problems with his brain that they made some deals to ensure that someone would always care for him if they died. Our family greatly benefitted from the deal with his parents to provide him with those girls and women to care for him. They had to be virgins, only ever have sex with him, and be the mothers of his children. It took him six years to desensitize to their touch. Until today, I don’t think he has ever gotten or boner or cum. The most contact he had been able to tolerate with any girls and women was to kiss them. Great aunt Elise said that it is because you are here that he could reach that physical level of intimacy. She said he understood that the women and girls were his exclusive lovers to carry his children.”

Maybe an hour later, one of the girls from the lab came into the room.

She pulled a nightshirt over her head to show that she was nude. The girl straddled him, held his dickhead to her pussy, leaned down to “chirp” in his ear, and had his boner go up inside her as it hardened instantly. She laid on his chest and went right to sleep.

One of the other girls with four vocal cords came over to take the woman who couldn’t stand cumming another time off my dick.

Slowly and with great effort, the woman managed to control her breathing. While sounding like a creepy woman from a horror movie, with four voices talking in almost perfect sync, she told me, “The girl in his lap is the only one to have sex with him who is what you would consider a child in your country, even if she and he are both sixteen. All those that care for him are at least eighteen. You already know that women from Aunt Elise’s siblings physically age more slowly. All the girls in the lab today have been his best friends and have been like sisters since he came to live with us. They are his hands in his electronics lab. None of those women who care for him are allowed there unless he needs them, which is never. He has had no problems being intimate with us and knows every inch of all our bodies.”

The girl with his dick inside said, “His parents forced those who care for him upon him. They meant well and spared no expense caring for him. Aunt Elise made him sit with you so he could tolerate getting his sperm inside them to have his child. I couldn’t come to him to have him inside as we napped until they had gotten what they needed. We did it the first time when I managed to get him away from his babysitters long enough to slip him into my bedroom. If I am like my sisters and cousins, I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant for another ten years, not that I mind being twenty-four and looking thirteen. Aunt Elise told me not to put your long dick inside me, or I would be pregnant before you leave.”

I left shortly after she went back to sleep to spend my last night in bed with Elise.

In the morning, I had to carry Tee to the plane. He was a complete zombie. The girls kept teasing him about letting Ariba’s girl cousins trick him into coming to their slumber party. I carried him off the plane when we got to Mary’s home.

Bart didn’t even get to tell Mary hello. A woman pulled him off toward the part of the harem quarters where the married girls and women stay when visiting. Tee was grabbed by a younger group of married girls closer to his age.

Mary took me down into the harem to have sex with those who had become women recently. Only three were at least fourteen and fertile today. The rest didn’t get their cherries popped, but got a cum fired at their pussy. I would screw one of the fertile women, give her the first few shots, pull out, and fire the rest at the nearest pink target. I didn’t count the number of times I pulled out to fill up a test tube to restock my sperm bank.

Mary was ok with that because she didn’t need to get fucked raw a few days before doing head of all families business. We did have a nice slow screw in the shower before breakfast, but it wasn’t about trying to get off. While she took care of the family business, I took care of wearing out the harem. My cum went into cold storage, providing I stopped pounding the pussy I was in to pull my dick out before I came.

“I’m not sure who my siblings fear more right now, Molly or Rosie,” Mary said.

“Just don’t eat anything she offers you, especially if it has chocolate,” I warned.

She laughed and said she had been backed up lately, so she might see what confections Rosie whipped up. Mary told me that if her siblings fell for getting hit with the chocolate-flavored laxatives, they deserved what they got. All of them got hit with that prank by age ten.

A girl came up to interrupt us and whined, “Make her stop, David.”

“Make who stop?” I asked innocently.

“Your sister,” came the response.

I replied, “You should know better than to mess with Ariba.”

“Ariba is here?” this girl asked. “I’m talking about Rosie. She’s not doing what we tell her. She’s just a commoner like the staff, but lower.”

I wanted to smack the shit out of the girl for some reason, but a look from Mary stopped me.

Mary told the girl, “Bart and Tee are commoners. That hasn’t stopped you from sneaking out of the harem and risking David’s wrath trying to get their dicks in you, has it? You know what happens if you turn up pregnant and it isn’t David’s, right?”

“As if I care,” the girl said dismissively.

“Make her stop. I order you,” she told me.

I always forget that I have that shield over my eyes to stop causing people to get affected by them.

As I looked at the girl, I dropped that shield and told her, “Let me make something clear right here and now. Unless I allow Mary to arrange to marry you off, or I choose to dump you on somebody, you are mine to do with as I please. You are nothing more than my cum dump baby factory to pop one of my kids out as fast as your body will let you. Compared to Rosie, Tee, and Bart, you are a warm fuck toy and nothing more. I’ve chosen not to treat anyone in either of my harems that way. Get that through your head, or I’ll find someone who will gladly give you a new home to treat you worse than you feel you have the right to treat anyone in my family or my friends. Rosie isn’t some slave I drag around with me when I travel. She is my little sister. My parents are the only ones who can tell her to stop whatever horror Rosie is inflicting. I can ask her to stop, but I know that if she makes your life a living hell, you did something to deserve it. Try apologizing and treating her like a friend, not someone you think is below you.”

I put the shield back over whatever my eyes started doing after being hit by lightning.

Mary recovered a few seconds before saying, “That was harsh, David. Overdue and true. That is something I would expect my dad or one of the elite bastards to say to her, not something that came from you. We couldn’t marry her off if you wanted us to do it, at least not before you tore into her. She was too strong-willed and wouldn’t make it six months before her husband decided to give her a permanent attitude adjustment by way of a pine box. My half-sister thinks her sneaking out of the harem to screw one of her brothers or one of the staff goes unnoticed. Since she got her period at ten, she has been a nymphomaniac and started getting bold about dodging the bullet by not ending up pregnant. My sister was born with a rare form of this ovarian disease. It caused her body to see the eggs inside them as a source of nutrients. Before she was even three months old, her ovaries were nothing more than empty sacks with the sole purpose of producing hormones. It affects every other generation in her mother’s family. Even if you won’t be able to break her spirit you did put her in her place and give her something to think about.”