Russ walked into his living room, refreshed from his shower.
He hadn’t bothered dressing after using a towel to dry most of the water from the shower. He just cinched a towel around his waist never imagining anyone would ever violate his privacy.
After getting comfortable on his sofa, he reached for the TV remote. He was scanning channels when he became aware of skittery movements on the surface of the coffee table.
What he took for a small dark shape turned out, on closer inspection, to be two tiny black houseflies getting it on atop his coffee table.
The little fly on top looked to be enjoying itself based on the rapid, jerky movements from atop the slightly bigger fly.
…..
Twenty minutes earlier while Russ continued his shower…
Brad’s horny state from spying on Russ’s shower had burst a dam of hormones that had left the fly’s instincts firmly in the driver’s seat.
At most, he became a reluctant passenger as the fly tracked the scent of hormones to a female housefly that had entered Russ’s home two days earlier.
Zipping across the room, hovering over the other fly on the coffee table, Brad screamed in wordless surprise when a sudden acceleration rammed him against the female insect.
After striking the other fly, he wasted no time climbing atop the other bug and lining up to face toward the distant television. He wrapped his spiky legs under the other insect’s abdomen at the base of her wings.
The other bug open its wings and vibrated them making a raspy buzz, but otherwise remained still to signal acceptance of the mating ritual.
Brad’s protest that he was gay didn’t seem to have a lot of bearing. The male fly wanted to mate, and the female’s compliance filled him with satisfaction and confidence. The acceptance of the chosen mate produced a wave of pleasure that totally obliterated Brad’s remaining protests.
Now, instead of causing the arousal, he got swept along with it.
Brad’s front legs pressed down on the other fly’s head almost like a caress. Simultaneously, the female fly moved a tubular structure attached to her abdomen into the proximity of Brad’s fly penis at the center endpoint of his abdomen. It wasn’t anything like a human penis, except for the inescapable pleasurable sensations that followed physical contact with the female’s tube-shaped ovipositor.
Time became meaningless. All that mattered was the pleasure he obtained as he kept pumping sperm into the other fly. This overweening purpose kept Brad so locked into place that he barely wavered when a dark shadow passed overhead. Dimly, finding himself in a position he could never have imagined, he recognized Russ and watched as the man, covered only by a fluffy white towel, seated himself on the sofa.
Even the man’s enormous hand grabbing the remote control, inches from their location, didn’t disturb either insect into flight, although Brad was now doing his best to persuade on the merits of a hasty retreat.
The other fly buzzed, but the activated TV drowned out the noise with the volume from the set.
Male houseflies have only one real purpose, which is to produce more flies. Only 20 minutes into the mating, which could last for a couple of hours, Brad’s feeble efforts to affect his new body’s responses failed miserably.
Maybe Russ would not notice…
Brad didn’t even get time to complete the thought. He saw multiple images of Russ leaning forward, his enormous neighbor’s mammoth features twisted into a scowl.
Brad panicked when the giant man reached for a magazine.
Even that action didn’t phase the stubborn determination of his new body as Brad again screamed a mental demand for control again. As the huge hand raised the massive magazine aloft, Brad resorted to more wordless pleading.
“No! Russ! It’s me!”
Russ watched as the fly on top kept at it, appearing to wrestle with the other insect. In reality, he was seeing Brad trying to gain enough control over his fly form to escape his looming demise.
“Well, at least you fuckers can die happy,” Russ remarked aloud as he swung the magazine down on both the bugs with a resounding whomp.
Lifting the magazine, he saw that the swat had badly mangled the two bugs into one mushed form.
For the female fly, it was a biological waste. Despite successfully finding a mate, all her eggs would now never to be laid.
For Brad, it was even more of a waste. An intellect easily in the Top 1 percent of the planet's human beings, and it couldn’t save him from a friend with a magazine and a dislike of insects. He’d thrown everything away for a foolish fling with an ill-considered transformation.
As for his final message, which Russ finally noticed when he eventually returned to his kitchen, the salsa letters had run and smeared by the time they got noticed. The message that Brad had labored on for so long read more like. HELO. IMEARD. NOUG.