By the point that evening had rolled around; nobody had seen Lisa or Rob, although they had heard them walking around the house occasionally throughout the day; "what if your uncle marries Lisa?" Phil asked as they were eating snacks for dinner.
Greg rolled his eyes, "Pfft, I don't think that'll happen. I think Rob's days of being able to charm a woman into marrying him are well behind him now,"
"I don't know, Lisa seems pretty thirsty," James pointed out, to which Greg shrugged and nodded; "it's getting late, and the kids are still up, do you reckon we could slip them some Benadryl and get a good night's sleep?"
"You're not dosing my kid," Phil added with a chuckle, "dose up your own kids? Fine, they're your kids, but you're not drugging Gracie… not unless she's still up at 3am, then we can talk," to which James just laughed.
About halfway through day three was when the cabin fever was really beginning to set in in a major way. James especially was struggling and beginning to get quite claustrophobic and aggravated as he continually paced up and down the room for over an hour at this stage; snapping angrily if he were to be interrupted. He'd glare up the stairs at the door each time he walked past, stopping for a second before continuing on; "it's like watching a lion in a cage," Phil muttered as he packed the bong, "James, come and sit down!" and James would just shake his head and keep pacing; his muscles taut and tight in frustration, as Greg took a drink of beer and watched James walk up and down the room.
"This is truly fucking miserable," Ryan sighed from his bed, trying to read a book, "the kids are fine, they're happy to play by themselves, most of which seems to be dressing that poor dog up. God you guys were so lucky to get a Rottweiler with a temperament that's so patient and just lets the kids do whatever they like to him, though they don't want us playing their games, whatever game that is," Ryan pointed to Shady who was currently wearing a tutu around his neck with his muzzle poking through a leg hole, with a Christmas reindeer head piece and sunglasses on his head, having his nails painted bright pink and Charlie sitting on his back like a horse while he laid there and took it, occasionally shaking his head to try and flick off the items on his head. "And as for us… we're all pretty much stuck. This is like being in fucking prison. And the worst thing is, is that the batteries in the radio have died so we don't even have that. What choices have we got? Reading the same fucking book again, getting drunk, getting stoned, or pacing around the room like James is doing. We don't even know what's going on with this storm or how much longer it's going to last,"
"What's going to make you feel better, James?" Greg asked.
"I want to go outside," he growled, as he continued to pace.
"Okay, well that's not an option," Phil interrupted, "so what's your second choice to relax?" and James just held up his hand over his forehead in the form of bull horns to not let the kids understand what he was after.
"It's been three and a half days," Greg pointed out, with a shrug, "James has… an extremely high drive. So, for him, this is absolute fucking torture,"
"Three and a half days isn't too bad," Ryan shrugged, "when we adopted Gracie as a baby, things were so hectic that it was about three and a half months," to which James let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine.
"Three and a half days is a long time for James," Greg snapped back, "everyone has different levels of drive; and for James, three times a day barely cuts it. I can only think of twice since we've been together that it's been three days that we haven't done anything, and that was only because one of us were in hospital. No matter what, we always make time for just the two of us. Some people can go months without any problems, like you guys apparently can. James isn't one of those people. He's holding it in; but it's absolute torture for him," and James just simply nodded as he continued to pace up and down the room.
"Then let's figure out a way to make this happen; because mixed in with so much pot, some beer and watching him pace like a caged animal like that is making me feel dizzy and motion sick," Phil muttered.
"How can we make it happen?" James snapped, spit flying everywhere, "because we're not the kind of parents who do that in the same room as our kids. They're just damned kids, and we like to be a bit rough; it's not a good mix,"
"I wasn't suggesting that you solve your horn problem here," Phil answered, and began tapping his fingers on the laminate card table as he pondered.
"Shut up! Stop doing that!" James yelled, snapping about the sound of Phil's fingers clacking on the desk.
"Hey, I'll stop when you do; you're making me motion sick," Phil snapped back, "I'm trying to help you, James… you could go tug it out in the toilet?"
"I don't want to just tug! I want the full deal!" James snarled, "that's not too much to fucking ask! Rob is up there getting the full deal, and Greg and I are married and being denied getting the full deal! I don't want to just tug myself! I want everything, and I want everything with Greg there!"
Greg frowned and then had a lightbulb moment, "why don't we take a blanket upstairs, and we can solve the horn problem up there on the couch; and then if one of the kids needs to use the bathroom; that's what the blanket is for, and we can just cover ourselves up?"
James snapped his fingers, "you're an absolute genius, Rory! How didn't I think of that?"
"Because you're too busy thinking with your other head," Phil frowned, "but sure, that sounds like a good idea. That way the kids can stay down here where it's warmer; and we won't be sleeping in anything accidentally spilled,"
"You know we didn't have time to change the bedsheets before you guys came, right?" Greg pointed out.
"So, our kids have potentially been lying in spillage?" Ryan looked at him, absolutely repulsed.
"No, of course not, we clean up after ourselves. And in fact, any activities are usually done about where you're lying, Ryan," Greg shrugged.
"Eww!" Ryan squealed, shifting himself over, and Greg just shrugged and pointed out that he'd been lying there without any problems for the better part of three, going on four, days; while James was grabbing a blanket and standing at the base of the stairs, looking upwards.
"Daddy," Tyson interrupted, as Greg was about to stand up, "what's a horn tug?"
"Adult things, Tyson, nothing for you to know about, okay?" James snapped, "you'll learn when you're older,"
"That's what you say about everything," Tyson sighed rolling his eyes, yet continued playing with Shady, who for his part, although tolerating Gracie and Tyson dressing him up yet again, this time as a princess; appeared truly miserable. James looked over at Greg with ready eyes, clearly stating 'come on, hurry up, let's go!' and Greg walked over.
"My God, it's like being married to a particular type of movie star," Greg joked, and Phil cracked a half smile, as James grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him upstairs, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Greg muttered, "don't pull me, James,"
"'I'm coming' is exactly what you'll be saying soon enough," James muttered, pulling Greg upstairs.
"See you on the other side, sailors," Greg joked, as James kept pulling him upstairs, "James, your fingernails are digging into my skin…" as the door opened and then closed behind them, "you're lucky you're so beautiful, you know that?"
James dragged Greg over to the lounge room; his eyes black with desire as he looked Greg up and down and licked his lips and grabbed Greg by the edge of his coat and pulled him forward into a passionate kiss, throwing the blanket over the back of the couch. "I've been thinking about this so much for the last few days," James growled through the kiss, which Greg just laughed and told him that it really was that obvious. James fiddled with the button and zipper of his jeans; "get on your knees, baby," James growled, and Greg patiently obeyed, wrapping his mouth around James' already hard cock; before James pushed him back partway through, "get on the couch, I want to finish inside you," Greg got up on the couch and James immediately coated his cock in spit, and pushed himself deep inside of Greg and gently massaged Greg's balls and cock with his right hand while he thrust himself in and out.
Lisa was heading downstairs when she saw the top section of James' arm huge and muscular that she hadn't noticed before over the back of the couch, muscles sticking out from his shoulder and the part of his back she could view, and his extra-long dark brown hair sticking to the sweat on his back and down his ribs. He almost looked like a body builder, certainly had been working out, possibly excessively, and she wondered whether his increased aggression could be a sign of roid usage, but was James really the kind of guy to use steroids recreationally, or for any reason aside from purely medical? Lisa came to the realisation that she just didn't know anymore, this was not the James she'd thought she'd known for all these years.
In saying that, he looked like an absolute Greek God. His muscles tensed sharply, showing every single tiny muscle twitching, after as he gasped that he was cumming and held himself tensed into the couch for several seconds; before he stood up and Lisa got a look at his cock which was a lot bigger than she expected, with certainly no hypogonadism from steroid misuse, and hungrily stared at his developing six pack and muscles building up down his sides. She instantly felt an immediate attraction, especially when she thought of her own boyfriend back in the bedroom; frail and thin from heavy alcohol use, with thinning blonde hair and a scruffy blonde-grey beard and moustache. James does have the body of a Greek God, but he also has the craziness level of a Roman Emperor; Lisa reminded herself; Greg can keep him… although Rob isn't exactly stable either, and putting up with crazy would be a lot easy with a man who looks like a Greek God and is packed like a horse; than an alcoholic in his late fifties who most definitely looks it… Lisa's intrusive thoughts she knew were so wrong came to a stop when James started to look around, seeming to have instinctively picked up on being watched, as Lisa silently crept back upstairs in the darkness thank God his eyesight doesn't seem particularly great in the dark, but he still obviously won't get glasses, or else I'd be in trouble.
"Fuck," she heard Greg groan from the couch, and James smiling down at him; before Lisa crept back again and heard the floor creak under her foot as she paused, wincing. "What the fuck was that?" Greg peered over the couch, and Lisa was thankful that she was now hidden behind the corner.
"No idea, it's probably just from the storm outside or something? Maybe Rob or Lisa getting up to use the bathroom?" James mumbled, "I did have a weird kind of feeling of being watched for a little bit however," as he pulled on his underwear, "it's fucking freezing, let's go back downstairs,"
"So long as you stop pacing like a lion trapped in a cage," Greg muttered as he started getting dressed himself.
"That won't be an issue now that I know we can come up here for a fuck anytime," James mumbled, now pulling on his coat; "let's go play some euchre with the boys,"
That night, Greg was fast asleep next to James on the edge of the bed, with Phil next to James, Ryan beside Phil; and the kids and Shady all curled up together on the other edge of the bed.
Upon hearing Henry's footsteps on the creaking wooden floors walking towards his bedroom, Greg glanced over his shoulder in fear from where he'd been sitting on his bedroom floor playing, as he got up and scampered towards his wardrobe and hid inside, pulling the door closed behind him and watching through the horizontal slats of the door. Despite knowing that with tonight being a Tuesday evening, given that his mother worked every Tuesday night; that this was one of the times that his father and uncle threw their 'parties', every Tuesday and Saturday evening. Greg knew that hiding in his wardrobe still meant that he would almost certainly be found and be forced to 'perform' but to hide in his wardrobe or under the bed was essentially automatic at this point.
"Oh, Greg," came the all too familiar voice, "what do we have here? Look at the mess that you've made," Greg flinched as he watched his Batman figurine, who he'd abandoned on the floor that he'd just been playing with get kicked viciously across the bedroom; "come on Greg, you know that you have your job to do, you know that you have to earn your keep around here. You can't just hide from your responsibilities, boy! You need to help earn money to keep this house going just like the rest of us! I work, your father works, your mother keeps the house going with cooking and cleaning, you need to work too! Stop hiding from your responsibilities, boy!" Henry screamed, searching around the bedroom as Greg watched his uncle, terrified, through the slats of his wardrobe door. Henry opened the door to the wardrobe to see the little six-year-old boy cowering, and then desperately pushing and scooting himself backwards to the back corner of the wardrobe, staring up at Henry with terrified eyes. "Come on Greggy, you've got people waiting for you, you little shit!" as he reached in and grabbed Greg roughly around the upper part of his arm, causing Greg to automatically yelp, as Henry reached in his other arm, snapping Greg by the hair and smashing his head into the side of the wardrobe and then slapping him across the face; "shut up, you stupid, filthy fucking child whore!" he barked, before dragging Greg out from the wardrobe by his upper arm. Greg just laid there and allowed his uncle to pull him out of the room, dragging his body across the floor along his side, "the more you fight, Greggy, the more we're going to make it hurt. You can't be a workshy little bitch for the rest of your life!" Henry snapped, dragging him out of the bedroom door and along the hallway.
"There you are, you little shit," his father snarled, as Greg was tossed into one of the spare rooms that his father had told his mother was an office, and she'd never questioned it or even ever entered the room; where if she did she'd find a bed and a crate with items such as rope, baby wipes for cleaning between 'clients', a dog's choke chain, and a mouth piece that they'd sometimes use to force Greg's mouth and jaws to stay open; as well as a balaclava as an option for some of the men who wanted to be filmed but to keep their identity secret and anonymous in the video. Henry locked the door and Greg sat cowering with his back against the door, shaking violently in anticipation. John stared down at his son with a look of pure disgust and disdain, "get up!" he screamed, and Greg glanced nervously around the room to see at least ten men standing around the room, all staring at him with a hunger in their eyes like predators to a cornered prey. Greg pulled his legs up towards his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees and pressed his head down into his knees, beginning to cry in anticipated pain and wanting to shut them all out.
"You really are a truly disgusting, lazy, pathetic piece of shit, you know that, Gregory?" John snarled, landing a kick into his son's ribs; "get up! You have a job to do! Money to make! This is all part of being a man, Greggy; sometimes you've got to do what you don't want to do! I keep this roof over your head, I feed you, clothe you, pay for everything for you! You know by now that you have to pay your way! We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Greggy, but no matter how we do it; the results are going to be the same. So, I suggest that you make the right decision," and knowing that there was absolutely no way out of this, Greg stood up on shaking legs and undressed himself, watching his clothes, his final layer of protection, drop down to the ground. With shaking knees, Greg walked over towards the men, who were staring at him hungrily, and climbed up shaking onto the bed. His blue eyes, ever so slightly misted with tears scanned the room to see Big Bill, one of his father's closest friends and a near constant companion at Greg's nights 'on the job' tugging on his cock before handing a fistful of money to John who quickly counted it before nodding and Bill climbed up behind Greg who flinched as he heard and felt the springs of the mattress shift underneath Big Bill's weight.
Greg tried to relax his shaking, nervous body to very little use. He felt Big Bill's cock force its way inside of him as Greg winced and clawed at the bedsheet, burying the side of his face into the mattress. Greg felt like his insides were on fire as Bill thrust himself in and out of the little boy while Greg desperately searched the deepest recesses of his mind, trying to find his happy place he could take himself to. The place where he was loved and cared for, the place where this didn't happen. Big Bill finished inside the child, and Greg laid there as the process repeated again; money was exchanged hands, and another man climbed on top of Greg and forced his way in; "you're a disgusting, fucking, filthy whore child you are!" John snapped, feeling himself growing, and forcing his own cock inside of his son's mouth, using the silent tears of pain and sadness slipping down Greg's cheeks to use as a lubrication to help himself harden, until he came down his boy's throat, all while filming what was happening. After about the fourth time, Greg was now lying limply on the bed on his stomach, his legs spread wide in a frog legged pose with a sickening mixture of blood and semen seeping out of his anus after each client, which John would wipe away between clients while telling Greg how disgusting and repulsive he was for letting this happen to him and how disgusted his mother would be if she saw this.
Greg said nothing, his head turned slightly to the side, resting on his jaw, breathing deeply, his mouth slightly agape and eyes glazed over, staring blankly forward as each of the twelve men took their turn using him. After some time, Greg didn't feel pain; he felt almost drugged, as he imagined himself in a different situation where nothing like this was happening, he was no longer connected to reality and the real world that was happening to him. After several hours, the room emptied, and John pocketed the thousands of dollars of money his son had made him. "Another day of work done, boy. You took it like a man this time. You better get used to this. It's all you'll ever be good for. A couple of warm holes for men to stick themselves into. You should be grateful that you're learning this so young. Most don't learn until their older. You're a lucky boy, Greggy, one day you'll be the best, and you'll have your old man to thank for that," Greg nodded as he slowly pulled himself up onto his hands and knees and swung himself off the bed with only the slightest of a flinch upon landing, redressed himself and painfully walked back to his bedroom, climbing onto his bed to rest on his side.
With a shaking gasp, Greg woke up and climbed out of bed, tears slipping down his cheeks and staggered over to the card table, pulling down a bottle of Jack Daniel's from the bookshelf out of reach of the children, unscrewed the lid, and took a long gulp from the neck of the bottle; feeling the burning sensation pour down his throat. Greg coughed sharply, and Phil woke up, staring with narrowed eyes towards whatever had made that sound, seeing a human figured shadow sitting at the table. He grabbed his flashlight and shone it towards the table; just to see Greg sitting there staring back at him with almost dead eyes as he grabbed the bottle and took another drink. Phil sighed and shook James awake; "James," he hissed, "something's happening with Greg, something's wrong with him. He's just sitting at the table staring into space,"
James groaned and pulled away; "he's probably just had a nightmare and is stuck somewhere between the nightmare state and reality. There's nothing I can really do, he'll come to eventually and come back to bed. The closest thing I can compare that to is sleepwalking; yes, it's a bit creepy, but it's harmless. Just make sure you don't interrupt him before he comes out of it naturally, or he'll snap, like you don't wake up a sleepwalker. He won't recognise you for who you are. He'll think you're somebody else. You don't want that to happen,"
"James!" Phil hissed, as Greg let out a whimpering wail, "go and help him! You're his husband for fuck's sake! Go and wake him up before I do!"
With an annoyed growl of frustration, James pulled himself up and out of bed, walking over to Greg and sitting down beside him, "Greg, it's -50 degrees, you're in your singlet and boxers; you're going to freeze," James mumbled, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, before grabbing a hold of his upper arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze; to which Greg recoiled like he'd been burnt and spat at James to get off him, and pulled himself away so harshly he nearly fell off the seat. James immediately let go and raised both hands in submission and let Greg relax back to how he was before.
"Fuck off Henry, fuck off dad!" Greg snarled, "I'm six! I don't need to make any money for you or to please your friends! And don't kick Batman!"
"Greg, it's forty years later. That was forty years ago. It's your husband, James. We have our own little boy and girl now. We have an entirely different life than what you did. We're here, in Detroit, we live in Rob's house now!" James tried to calm him down, and Greg slowly started to come back around, "there you go," James smiled, "that's my Rory,"
"James," Greg wrapped his arms around James and held him as tightly as he could, "it was so scary… there were twelve of them, and…"
"Yeah, I know baby, but the important thing is that it's over now, you're back here with me now," James comforted, interrupting the spiel before anyone else heard, "and I won't let anything bad happen, come back to bed?" to which Greg nodded, and followed him back to bed, letting James wrap his strong arms around Greg lovingly.
"Why is Lisa still here?" Greg frowned, walking into the kitchen to make some toast for breakfast, "like, really, what is going on between you two?"
"I told you, she's my girlfriend," Rob responded, his voice slurring a bit and his eyes glazed over while holding a bottle of beer in his hand already despite it being early morning, and Greg rolled his eyes, "what, Greg?" Rob sighed.
"Nothing, just that she was your tenth 'girlfriend' in six months, Rob, so excuse me if I'm a little bit sceptical about the probable longevity of your relationship. Besides, Lisa, don't you have a hospital to go back to managing?" Greg poured himself a cup of coffee and took a long sip.
"Foreman is looking after it at the moment," Lisa replied.
"Well, that's a promising continuation, but you've been here for nearly three months now," Greg responded in sarcasm, "and considering that he was my doctor, he worked under me. And now he's running the joint?"
"You and James have been gone for years, you don't get any say in who runs my hospital, and neither does James," Lisa hissed angrily; "I need to have a chat with you all," Lisa announced, and Greg sighed and went to call James up from the basement. As the four of them gathered sitting around the table with Greg and James looking at her expectantly, she began talking, "my period is late. Like very, very late,"
"You called us up here to tell us that you're going into menopause?" James frowned; "Lisa, I've just finished a night shift, I don't need to hear this crap," as he stretched back, "finally when both kids are quiet and playing upstairs, I thought I might be able to get some rest,"
"I've also been feeling sick to my stomach, nausea and vomiting," Lisa continued as James stared at her blankly, but Greg's eyes were slowly starting to widen. "So just to rule it out, I took a test, multiple tests, and we're having a baby!"