Blackmailed - Part 7

It had been months since Liam had been in the office. People at work were beginning to talk, saying he’d gone on a bender and had checked himself into rehab or he’d been abducted by Indonesian pirates and was being ransomed back to his family.

Some remembered seeing Liam in the days leading up to his departure. A few noted he’d gained a considerable amount of weight, but almost nobody knew the scope of his size now. He’d made sure to be almost like a ghost after cresting the 400 lb mark. A few might have seen him, but nobody would have mistaken the barely mobile blob of a man for svelte company man he used to be.

That’s part of the reason why his father still hadn’t contacted him to see what was going on. Liam was able to maintain a firm hand on the firm entirely remotely thanks to regular calls and emails, so his actual presence wasn’t needed. This further enhanced the theory that he’d gone on some sort of retreat that required him to remote in for business meetings.

The truth was that Liam could barely make it to the bathroom without wheezing.

Liam was, in every sense of the word, enormous. His corpulence dominated the California king bed he’d installed ever since Noah had moved in. Working behind a desk was impossible as his belly pushed out further than his arms could reach, so keyboards could only be used while perched atop his mountainous chest. 

Noah had become his de-facto assistant. He managed the help, ensured meals arrived on time (and frequently), and assisted Liam in more mundane tasks such as bathing and clothing--although he rarely wore clothes these days. What was the point when he’d just sweat through the fabric in a matter of minutes anyway?

Instead, Liam remained nude, several fans keeping him cool while he performed all the functions he needed to, reviewing reports and company statistics. Occasionally he’d send out an email or message an underling to perform whatever action he required. He still felt in control, even though it was obvious that he was anything but.

Without even thinking he stuffed his mouth full of chips and various chocolate filled snacks surrounding him. It had become a mindless reflex--it was the only way to ensure he kept getting sufficient calories, although he’d long since sent a message to his blackmailer admitting that he simply didn’t have a scale that went high enough to know if he’d gained weight or not. 

Strangely, the reply back said that it was fine. His mission was accomplished: Liam was ruined, physically at least, and so the blackmailer said that he no longer needed proof of his gains. All he needed was a weekly picture of Liam. 

It occurred to him that was just future blackmail material, but Liam agreed. What other choice did he have? He supposed he could stop eating quite so much, but Noah kept ensuring that food was always available and plentiful, and Liam just didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

Or maybe Liam didn’t have the heart to tell himself to stop.

He knew that this couldn’t go on--either his father would find, or someone at the company, or he’d have a medical emergency that required a crane to extract him from his condo. Strangely, he felt more trapped now than ever before. 

Liam sighed and continued his munching. Then he noticed something strange--his hand had come back empty. No sweet snacks, no delicious treats. The wrappers around him were all empty. It seems as though Noah had forgotten to restock his supplies.

It was almost impossible to heave his bulk out of bed. Liam had to tilt himself one way, then another, and then back again to build up enough momentum to swing his own feet over the side of the bed. Then he stood tried to stand up, but couldn’t. He heaved with all his might and finally got to his own two feet. Then it was one rumbling, shambling step after the other as he searched for his wayward boyfriend.