The dank, humid conditions inside the plastic bag stuffed inside a tall trash receptacle were actually optimal for the tiny maggot that Brad, due to a failure to pay attention to certain details in the life cycle of a common housefly, had become.
As a maggot, he needed only a few conditions in order to thrive: moisture, heat and food. He enjoyed all three and burrowed a network of tunnels through the decay that had spread through the slab of discarded meatloaf. The moldering slice kept Brad engrossed in an orgy of feeding, a simple task of propelling his maggot body through the meatloaf, sending nutrients into his gullet, and expelling them in his wake. Surrounded by a damp, sultry twilight deep in the collected garbage, the maggot wiggled its plump little form and moved slowly, losing itself in its gluttony.
Dimly, he remained aware of his dire situation, but found it hard to deter the single-minded nature of the maggot’s instincts. The more the little creature fed, the sooner it could transform to the next step in its life cycle.
In the meantime, his husband regretted his hasty actions with the device that had been left behind as a mute witness to whatever had become of Brad.
He finally got the screen active again, only to receive a new message asking him whether he wanted to save or delete the archived profile.
He clicked “Save,” without any hesitation, and the device offered him his first hint of what his impulsive spouse had done.
Name: Brad Rivera
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 175lbs
Build: Lean
Status: Married
Sexual Preference: Gay
Penis size: 6.5"
Occupation: Physicist
He read over the profile and produced only a short burst of derisive laughter at the penis size. “Six inches at best,” he remarked aloud.
At the end, he noticed a linked profile, clicked it, and began reading again.
Name: Musca Domestica
Age: 20 days
Gender: Male
Height: .25 inches
Weight 10 micrograms
Aware/unaware: aware
Duration: 60 minutes
He got to the unfamiliar term of Musca Domestica and groused, “Babe, thought you were going to be a fly?”
A quick Google search left him a bit chagrined. “Oh, that is a housefly.”
Then he noticed duration had been set for an hour. Brad had called him at least half an hour ago.
“Well, whatever’s he done should be undone very soon,” Mark remarked aloud, feeling a little less apprehensive.
Unfortunately, Mark got to feeling restless, as was always the case whenever he had to wait for anything.
He remembered that the kitchen trash had looked full, so he stood, walked into the kitchen, and dealt with a necessary chore while trying to keep his impatience under control.
The tiny maggot’s feeding frenzy got interrupted as Mark lifted the plastic bag out of the can, tied a knot in the top, and exited through the back door. He made the short walk to the curb, deposited the bag into the large collection bin, and walked back inside to await Brad’s reappearance.