The 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair

Jackson

Jackson couldn’t have been more excited for the 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair. Ever since he was a freshman, he had been making great plans for that day he would finally get to attend. He’d constantly checked the facts, the statistics, and even the charts on how each fair would go off, making sure to collect as much data as he could. Jackson wanted to make sure everything was perfect when the day would finally come. The day that he would be able to pull off the greatest prank the school had ever seen: vandalizing one of the governor’s own private jets.

Jackson had never been the best kid in school, and he’d definitely never been the best person to his peers either, but he was known for his commitment. Once he’d started something he’d do everything to finish it: even if it meant he would be considered a bully or it would hurt his grades. That was probably why his classmates were always drawn to him–he’d stop at nothing if something (or someone) challenged him. Sometimes they just wanted to follow along and watch, and other times his crew actually wanted to partake. Jackson’s influence eventually made him the leader of one of the most popular cliques in school and basically nurtured his arrogant personality into what it had become. 

So in all, Jackson had the confidence, the group, and the looks. Jackson wasn’t model material, but he was attractive by high schooler standards. The 18-year-old had the hockey haircut always tucked beneath some baseball cap, he had the lightly-muscled lean body, and he had the natural cockiness that came with any confident youth. His well-known crew and casual attitude towards school also got him street credit. And even without playing sports or being involved in any activity, somehow everyone knew Jackson’s name.

So when his day to participate in the career fair finally came, Jackson couldn’t have been any more excited. He’d got on the local airport’s list without a problem, made it through security with all of his gadgets unquestioned and untouched, and landed himself and his buddies all in the brand-new in-transition private jet without a problem. Well, all his buddies except Jacob who’d been called to the assistant principal’s office for some random reason. But as long as it wasn’t himself, Jackson didn’t care.

“As I’m sure you can tell, this is one of the governor’s own aircraft we’re walking in. You have probably noticed this plane was formerly for commercial use, but the governor is currently in the process of remodeling,” the guide announced proudly. “Our governor believes that recycling is a practice worth noting.”

Jackson had to hold back a smile, knowing that once he was through with his business there’d be no point for the governor to continue his. The guide was an older male, well built and probably well off with a sturdy, tall figure and gray hair. He walked with a sense of authority he had earned with age and experience. He’d already told Jackson’s crew that he’d been flying for over 30 years before he’d been contracted by the governor.

“Do you guys know anything about our governor?”

“He’s a snowflake,” Fernando, one of Jackson’s boys shouted from the back. All the boys chuckled menacingly as the pilot tried to keep a calm stature.

“It’s best for you not to be rude towards someone on their property. You should be respectful.”

“Sounds pretty gay to me,” Jackson smirked, riling up his crew.

“Is it true he has a trophy husband?” one boy prompted.

“Yeah! I heard he had an affair with that socialist senator!” a second added.

Jackson slowly took a step back in his group, letting the chaos swarm around him.

“Can’t believe we have a gay governor!”

“Make America straight again!”

Jackson’s plans were working smoothly. While the pilot tried to swat down the other boy’s remarks, Jackson quietly slipped through the back of the group and down the hallway of the jet. Out of his hoodie pocket, he removed a small jar containing bright red paint. It didn’t take him long to get out the other items that each of the boys had also gotten through security: bottles of carbonated drinks, gum and soda tablets, plastic water bottles: everything and anything Jackson could use to make destructive explosions. Nothing that would actually harm anyone (because obviously it was a prank AND the airport had tight security), but enough to create quite the impact to the jet and an unwelcome statement to the governor.

Setting the items up in front of himself, Jackson couldn’t have been more proud of his work. His boys had come through, his plan had come through, and years of quietly waiting had come through. This pilot, and of course the governor, had no idea what was about to happen.

“This is your captain speaking.”

The stern voice sent a shock through Jackson’s body, shaking the small bottle of his mastermind mixture. Jackson knew it was the guide, but he had no idea how the pilot had gotten past his distractions. Didn’t matter anyway; all he had to do was put a tablet in and then-

“I’d like to advise all passengers aboard to immediately stop what they are doing.”

The shock coursed through Jackson’s body again, this time causing him to freeze up. He couldn’t move his hands or his arms. Not even his legs were inching forward. Jackson felt his usual cockiness disappear and be replaced with something new. Something he hadn’t felt since he was little. Something he’d almost forgotten the name of: fear.

“I already know what you’re planning on doing,” the pilot said through the speakers, his deep, silky words intimidating. “Your boys already told me.” Jackson flinched.

“They’re speaking with other pilots right now,” the pilot’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. “They surrendered easily.”

Jackson’s face flushed with anger. He didn’t know who to be more angry at, his group or the pilot. It didn’t matter though, his fist was already tightening at the thought of punching anything or anyone. He didn’t even notice he had placed the tablets and bottles down.

“Insubordination, that simply won’t do!” the older pilot teased. “If you are going to work in this field, respect will be your first priority.”

“Excuse me?” a confused Jackson spat.

“I said respect,” the pilot shot back. Jackson cowered in response, bowing his head to his superior.

“Yessir…sorry sir.” Jackson stuttered in a low, soft timbre. His tone lacked the confidence of youthful vigor and replaced it with something more timid. It was something Jackson was familiar with, a calling for subservience and obedience to those above and around him.

“That’s right,” Jackson’s guide didn’t even try to hold back his delight. “Mischief is what causes errors and accidents, and that is unacceptable. Especially in our line of duty. Now, make your way to the cabin of the plane.”

“Of course, sir.” Jackson’s scurried as instructed, making his way to the middle of the aisle.

“It’s best if you follow all my orders, wouldn’t you think so?”

“Fully sir.” The words came out of Jackson’s mouth in record time.

“I knew you’d agree. I could tell when I first saw you.”

“What…what do you mean…s…sir?”

“For one thing, by the way you carry yourself,” the older pilot started as if it was obvious. “You’ve got no real personality kid. You’re about as tame as the majority of politicians that I meet. Just by looking at you, I could tell that even after flying around the world your favorite things are Vineyard Vines and IPAs.”

“Gotta love Vinny V, sir!” Jackson smiled suddenly, a sudden spark of excitement replacing his usual flaccid personality. It was true, some people thought of Jackson as bland for his likes, but he believed he just enjoyed the simple things in life. Why venture outside of the plane when you’re already comfortable inside?

A sudden memory of a closet full of the same three outfits at home caused him to pleasantly smile. One for work, one for day-to-day, and one for pleasure. They were basically the same articles of clothing in a rainbow of colors. IPAs were definitely Jackson’s favorite too, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it! Except, why did Jackson feel a slight hesitancy to admit it?

“You’re also built like you’re compensating for your lack of character.”

“I am…sir?”

“Completely,” the pilot replied back, his husky phonics clicking through Jackson’s earlobes. “Look at those arms, how much are you lifting, kid?”

“Just enough to keep my bis and tris prominent, sir,” Jackson replied, subconsciously crossing his arms in order to rub said mounds. He wasn’t doing this out of pride however, this was an act of submission. Even though Jackson had developed upper musculature, he couldn’t help but feel called out by the truth in the pilot’s words.

“And that torso too, obviously traded brains for brawn.”

“Thanks, sir!” Jackson guffawed, chuckling while patting the abs he knew were tucked underneath his button-up. He couldn’t help but tweak his nipples too, which thanks to his thick pecs were easily accessible behind his two shirt pockets. With his mouth, he made a little “beep beep” noise as he fiddled with the two teats, pretending as if they were the same noises particular buttons made in the control room.

“I’d say your head also took a beating from hitting the ceiling of the plane so many times. How tall are you again, kid?” 

“6’5 I think, sir.” Jackson replied, the top of his pulled-back ‘do rubbing against the ceiling.

“Well, at least some of that muscle is useful for something.”

“Is it sir?”

“Sure,” the pilot responded back over the speakers. “For instance, those legs of yours make you strut with authority, even if you don’t have any.”

Jackson looked down over his thighs and calves, his dark trousers looking like a casing over two titanic sausages. The pilot was right, because of his thunderous quads he did have to strut through terminals like he was in charge. His Size 13 feet to also made each footfall sound more like a stomp. Jackson chuckled to himself at that thought; being in charge wasn’t meant for someone like him. Or at least, he didn’t think so.

“And that square head is mighty handsome, even if it is rather empty.”

“My momma’s said it only holds what’s most important!” Jackson nodded proudly, accidentally bumping his head on the ceiling. He immediately placed a meaty palm onto his forehead, feeling his shortly-kept bristles of hair rub through his fingertips. Once his hand was done there, it moved to his chin, admiring the rough, wide nature of it. A history teacher had once remarked that Jackson’s face looked similar to a Neander…Nean…old human’s with his forward brow and large ears and nose.

“I bet she did,” the pilot sighed. “But luckily you’re just smart enough to be a pilot after way too many years in school. How many was it again, kid?”

“10 years I think, sir.” Jackson’s answer was not as jovial as the past few had been. It had been hard for him in school, being that he was never the smartest student in the toolbox, but he wouldn’t give up! And he finally made it through just when he had turned 29. With that said however, the administration he had signed on with required him to be with an older, more experienced pilot at all times. Someone that could lead Jackson constantly, guide him without restraint.

“There are just a few good things about you though.”

“There are?” A big smile spread across Jackson’s face, filled with delight over someone else’s approval.

“Well sure,” the pilot’s voice rang. “I mean even though you’re very handsome, you’re too meek and mannerly to be arrogant.”

“Oh, um thank you…sir?” Jackson didn’t know how to take that last comment. He wasn’t one to handle compliments well, and he was straight. So the combination of both issues in one phrase really stumped Jackson on how he should respond.

“There’s also those two amazing beach balls attached to your back that everyone can’t help but stare at.” Jackson blushed at that, clenching his buttcheeks just to appreciate what the pilot was saying. He was still uncomfortable with the situation though.

“And remember what I had said about compensating earlier? Well, there’s definitely some compensation there.”

Jackson bowed his head in humiliation, unintentionally being forced to look at his pouch. Pouch might have not been the right word however, for the front of his trousers were very flat. Jackson was not enjoying this conversation with his senior captain, but he also wasn’t one to fight back.

“Sir…I-”

“What, are you embarrassed?” The pilot whispered, his massive body suddenly right behind the younger man. Jackson had no idea when the man had left his station at the speaker system and had appeared in the cabin. And even though Jackson was about the same size as the pilot, he still felt shrink down in submission.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, remember?”

Jackson felt a shiver run across his body as the pilot moved around and in front of him–his huge, thick meat rubbing across Jackson’s leg as he passed.

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“J…J…Jackson, sir,” Jackson stumbled out.

“No, not your last name,” the pilot’s scoffed, although the offhand comment still made its mark. “Looks like it will stay that way now. Anyway, I am your captain, and your job is to follow my orders.”

Before he could protest (something Captain Jackson hadn’t been planning on doing anyway), the senior pilot unbuckled his belt and dropped his dark trousers. A 9 inch tube of pure man meat sprung out, bobbing up and down in excitement.

“So, captain,” the older male grinned, knowing the title was simply worthless when worn by the younger man. “Your first duty on this aircraft will be to help your senior advisor. I know you’ll be pretty familiar with the task, being this was how you made your way through all those years of school.”

“Yes sir,” Captain Jackson smiled earnestly, unnecessarily proud of the truth. He carefully placed one hand on the seat beside him, ready to lower himself to his superior just like he had countless times before.