Joe fluttered around in his new container, too distracted with his own changes to care about the three other boy's he'd enticed the Collector to transform for him. Worse, he was almost too distracted with his capture to care about his change. He had wings now, dammit! The Collector had seemingly given him the gift of flight, only to take it away by trapping him inside this chamber. There was nowhere for him use his new ability, except for a few centimeters back and forth from wall to wall. And all the yummy smells that were taunting him from outside were about to drive him nuts.
Walking down the street with the jar in his grasp, the Collector took out a banana and peeled it before casually starting to eat it. The fly in his little jar buzzed loudly and threw itself against the glass more fervently than before. The nearby smell of freshly peeled fruit was really starting to mess with Joe's mind. The pain of getting knocked against the glass would have been worse if not for his hardy exoskeleton, but still would have been nothing compared to the agony of being separated from what his eyes and antenna were urging him toward with no way to get there.
The Collector pinched off some insignificant crumbs of banana flesh and squeezed them down into the jar, where they flopped down to the bottom with tiny splats. Joe saw it all happening in slow motion with his new fly vision, giving him ample time to launch his winged body out of the way of the gooey meteors raining down on his world. Once the chaos had stopped, he zeroed in on a piece of banana and shot himself in a straight line toward it, successfully landing on top of it with flawless aim. The instant some of his legs made contact with the mush, the most intense sensation of sweetness Joe had ever experienced erupted into his awareness from beneath him. It was a million times better than any banana had ever tasted to him as a human. After he had spent what, to him, felt like several minutes indulging the sheer carnal euphoria of tasting this boulder of banana he'd been gifted, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't yet eaten even the tiniest nibble of it. "I don't have to eat my food to taste it?" he wondered. Befuddled, Joe winged it again and hovered around in a circle over the banana, trying to piece together what he'd experienced. He landed again beside it--nothing to notice but the sterile coolness of the glass barrier. He reached for the banana with a forelimb and shuddered in pleasure. He could taste through his legs now! There sure was going to be a lot to adjust to about a housefly's life for someone who'd undergone nearly two decades of human development.
Still famished, the enchanting flavor of this banana was commanding Joe to consume the thing even more than the smell had. He reached out with tube mouth the collector had given him to see if he could get it to work. "Here goes nothing," he thought, shoving the trumpet-shaped front part onto the gummy white surface in desperation. The taste and feel of this banana making contact with it triggered the exact opposite reaction Joe was expecting--he was suddenly overtaken by unbearable nausea! He could feel it barreling forward in his body with no way to stop it! Unable to even aim the blast away from what he was trying to eat, he watched helplessly as a splash of vomit splashed out onto his banana. Trying again, he probed another section and got the same reaction from his mixed-up innards. Was this his personal torment? His Tantalus-like punishment for betraying his friends? Desperate to eat, and blessed with the most acute taste and smell that a gourmet could wish for, but cursed with a mouth that can only vomit?
Joe was starting to wonder whether insects could commit suicide, when his antennae started twitching again. A new observation was beckoning to him. The part of the banana chunk with his juices soaking into it was starting to smell even more appetizing than the rest of the thing. Torn between his irreconcilable confusion about this and his disgust at the most tempting response, he silently weighed his options for a another moment. And then finally, against his better judgment, he dispatched his new spongy proboscis once more, cautiously dipping its bell-bottom into the murky liquid he'd created. And at once, Joe's gluttonous bliss was complete. He didn't chew, he barely swallowed, and he didn't throw his banana back up. He simply held his proboscis there, letting the digested banana soak into it, patiently letting his tasty concoction filter through its entire length, until his esophagus took it away to his stomach.
Now he understood. He understood how to eat now, that was something. He scrambled in putting his new technique so he could get his new body the fuel it was needing; he sprayed his digestive slop everywhere so he could soak it back up where it came from, with sugar and nutrients coming along for the ride. He understood just how truly disgusting a creature he was now. He didn't know how long a housefly's lifetime was likely to be, but he understood that he would be spending the rest of it puking on his own food and living on a diet of his own spit-up. And even as the banana was starting to satisfy him, he couldn't help but start hoping it wouldn't be too long before he got his chance to puke on something else.
The Collector watched the fly flitting its proboscis in and out frantically before tuckingthe whole jar away in his trench coat to walk into his next appointment. They might not like him bringing insect pests into the next victim's location, even in jars.