Jackson, part 13 (Finalé)

LOKITU'S NOTE: Surprise! The writer got back in touch with me recently, and has supplied me with the final story chapter for Jackson - so here it is, folks: The Jackson Finalé. I hope you all enjoy, and for those wanting to recap the story so far, you can do so HERE.

Jackson, Part 13

7 months later....

Finley leaned back in his chair. It was hot today and the cool leather felt nice on his skin. He let out a sigh. 

He'd just finished a meeting with a prospective client, and needless to say it was a difficult negotiation. He still wasn't sure he had made the correct decision, getting involved with this unsavory group. But he was committed at this point, and even if he wouldn't admit it, he was becoming more like them.

After Jackson had been fully incapacitated, Finley restructured the company. Large feeding tubes were removed and resources were moved back toward the manufacture of fertilizer. By this time Jackson had been moved to a secure room under the main warehouse. This was to be his permanent home. There he could be monitored 24 hours a day, and fed on an endless loop of pig fat, cornmeal, and potatoes. Trapped in his own fat, obediently sucking down thousands of calories a day. His stomach never empty. 

Finley's scheme had flown under the radar for well over a year, and he intended to keep it that way. But the penny dropped.

Word had gotten out, as all business secrets do, and his cattle feed suppliers skilfully leveraged this secret in their favor. The men proposed that if Finley continued purchasing the allotted amount of feed per year, as per the original contract, then they would connect him with another business client of theirs.

Embarrassed but by no means cowed, Finley accepted their offer. 

And his relationship with this new business client began.

From the negotiations he just finished it was clear that this group operated more like a mob than a business. Polite society would be appalled. 

But, as Finley was want to say, money talks. And an agreement had been reached.

3 subjects all at once. Feedings offset so that none would ever be the same size. ‘How ridiculous,’ Finley thought. ‘I can’t even fathom why they want this. But better to sit back and relax, it's just good business.’

Peeling his fat neck from the back of the chair, he opened up his laptop.

Logging in, he caught a glimpse of an amorphous blob that nearly filled the screen. 

Down in the depths of warehouse 15 lay Jackson. Though "lay" might not be the best way to describe his position.

His flesh had taken on the property of a liquid, spreading out in all directions in an attempt to fill the warehouse. The feedings had been near endless, with certain rest periods where Finley would clean his prize, and examine new rolls of fat. He was sure Jackson’s belly was sore, but he wouldn't get verbal answers, probably ever again. 

It had been 3 months since Jackson spoke. He was too big. The effort needed to move his vocal cords exhausted him. His body buckled under the weight. Nonessential muscles had atrophied to nothing.

Even if he miraculously lost the weight he wouldn’t be able to move his limbs; once muscle is gone, it's very difficult to build back.

And so there Jackson sat. Trapped in his fat. With no mental stimulation and endless boredom, Jackson’s mind had melted into a soft pile of mush. He had no way of knowing when one day ended and another began. It was blurring together.

Jackson's last physical motion was the twitching of his right hand, the fingertips were desperately pushing back against the fat consuming them. 

It was rather satisfying, Finley thought.  Jackson would only move if HE wanted him to. He would decide. 

Finley smiled to himself and shut the laptop. He was ready for the upcoming bank holiday. 4 long days away from regular work. He had ordered 10 dozen donuts, and he couldn’t think of a better use of his time than hand-feeding his enemy, his creation, until Jackson’s belly ached.

FIN...ley