After Mark's departure, the house grew quiet. Almost too quiet.
After an intense grooming session with his new wiry forelegs to clean his insectoid face, Brad took flight, his buzzing wings disturbing the silence as he soared from one immense room after another in his home. Nothing looked familiar. Tall ceilings, furniture as big as buildings, and everyday objects with new impressive dimensions combined to oppress the little fly-man.
After Mark had found him, he had felt safe, secure, and more than ready to end his ill-considered experiment. Once Mark had to leave to purchase the batteries to make it possible to reverse the experiment, the stillness of the home, which now looked so surreal and alien, clawed at his nerves.
It was an unfavorable moment for a solitary giant to suddenly invade the quiet home.
Brad, flying from kitchen to living room, felt a thrill of shock as a towering figure opened the front door and strode through the monolithic doorway, his muscled body clothed in dusty denim jeans and a tight t-shirt that showcased defined muscles.
Fifty-nine years old, Jim Rivera, at least in his eldest son’s estimation, looked as good as most men Brad’s own age.
Brad and his dad shared a dark skin tone and thick black hair. Well, they normally shared those traits.
At the moment, trapped in the body of a housefly, Brad had very little in common with his father, a fact that left him vaguely uneasy and also strangely excited.
Brad, transfixed and also a little terrified by his father’s sheer immensity, hovered in place and utterly failed to contemplate the vast gulf separating them.
Papi!" Brad buzzed, moving more toward the center of the room, as the gigantic man took steps that appeared to progress in painfully slow motion.
“MIJO?” Jim shattered the silence with a single thunderous word.
“He’s looking for me,” Brad realized. Well, his father was looking for Brad’s former self, not a tiny, pathetic insect.
The buzz of his wings drifted to Jim’s ears and brought the enormous man to sudden alertness. His head pivoted and dark eyes fastened on the source of the irritating noise.
Brad followed the slow turning of his father’s massive head and felt an icy splash of fear when the dark eyes locked on him.
“¡Sucio hijo de puta!” Jim spat the dismissive phrase as he smacked a hand toward the housefly.
Brad easily dodged the onrushing hand, which seemed to move at an absurdly slow pace.
The miss, however, only infuriated his father. Slapping his enormous hands left and right, he chased Brad from the living room into the kitchen, following the tell-tale buzz as the insect flew.
“Papi!” Brad cried wordlessly in panic. “Don’t. Please! It’s me!”
Brad scanned for a place to hide, but before he could locate a suitable place, the front door opened once again.
His father, in the doorway between rooms, saw Mark enter at the same time Brad’s tiny, faceted eyes glued themselves to Mark’s reassuring immense form.
Mark, at the same moment, also saw his spouse’s father and froze.
Jim smiled and moved closer for his usual strong handshake. Mark shook the hand, his other holding a bag of just purchased batteries.
“I… we…were not expecting you,” Mark muttered. “Were we?”
Jim laughed. “I just popped by for a visit,” he explained. “Where’s Brad?”
“Isn’t he here?” Mark feigned surprise and drifted past his father-in-law for a quick scan of the kitchen, where Jim had been standing when he entered.
“I can wait for him.”
“No telling when he might be back,” Mark said, placing the bag with his purchase on the kitchen counter.
“We’ll just catch up,” Jim said, moving to the fridge, pulling open the door and helping himself to a beer and one for his son-in-law, too. “Unless you’re busy.”
“Sure,” Mark said, still trying to scan for the tiny winged shape of his spouse and unable to come up with a valid excuse on the fly.
Jim pulled back a chair, scraping it across the tiles, and sat. Mark joined him, to Brad’s sheer frustration. He hovered near the kitchen cabinets, impatiently watching as his husband and father settled comfortably at the table.
“So, had you been waiting long?”
“Nope.” Jim responded. “Just got here.”
“Oh, good,” Mark said, a little too visibly relieved.
Jim unscrewed the lid on his beer and took a drink.
Mark copied the older man’s actions. “So, you haven’t seen anything weird?”
“Weird?”
Mark gulped down half the contents of the bottle. “Never mind…”
Jim frowned, but then began to chat with his son-in-law about their usual safe topics of work, sports and family, but Brad’s distracted husband kept glancing around the room, hoping to catch sight of any movement.
“For fuck’s sake,” Brad zoomed toward the table, determined to get his husband’s attention. He flew past the paper bag on the counter, which he surmised must contain the crucial batteries. He just needed Mark to gently send Jim home so they could reverse the transformation.
Both men heard the buzz as a small fly settled on the table in front of Mark, who froze with the beer bottle halfway to his lips.
Brad gazed up, trying not to feel too cowered by his spouse’s enormous form. He remonstrated with Mark, buzzing his wings and crawling forward in an attempt to get his message across to the big galoot.
Mark’s eyes locked on the insect, an instant of reflexive revulsion warring with affection and concern for his transformed and vulnerable spouse.
“Just tell him to go!” Brad buzzed his wings more urgently as he watched the multiple swirling images of his motionless, gigantic husband transmitted by his strange faceted compound eyes.
In the moment, as Brad’s impatience gradually dawned on Mark, they both had momentarily lost track of Jim.
Brad’s only warning was a sudden enveloping shadow.
Before Mark could say anything, before he could even move, his father-in-law’s hand shot out over the table and smacked down on the tiny form with a force that shook the table. He pulled his hand back and without even bothering to look, wiped it off on his pants.
“¡Maldito bicho sucio!” Jim said with a grin and a chuckle.