A moment ago, Brad had been hovering outside a monolithic barn, outrageously horny, risking proximity with the two titanic stable hands for the flimsy purpose of intensifying his arousal.
His fly senses had already been pushed to overdrive by a barrage of smells associated with the equine occupants of the enormous barn.
Now, due to an unexpected exhalation by the red-haired giant, a thick cloud of smoke swirled around the tiny fly like a fog, coating the insect’s antenna with noxious particles that blocked the sensory receptors.
Quite literally, Brad was now flying blind, disoriented, buzzing more loudly as his panic escalated.
After a brief and frightening instant, he managed to escape the dissipating smoke and fly to the wall of the barn, clinging vertically to the rough wood with his six claw-tipped legs.
By reflex, his forelegs scrubbed at his antennae, attempting to remove the sooty particles the exhalation from the giant red-haired smoker had caused to coat the tiny organs.
Unfortunately, the man, earlier an oblivious subject of Brad’s voyeurism, had now fixated on the presence of an annoying insect and tracked the fly’s movements to the nearby wall.
Brad felt a thrill of shock when the man leaned closer, looming over the space of weathered wood to which he clung with his spiky limbs. A pair of enormous green eyes fastened on his tiny form as he continued to brush his face nervously with his spiky legs.
He twitched nervously, but controlled the impulse to fly out blindly in the man’s direction.
The bug’s erratic twitches only served to deepen the huge man’s revulsion as he raised a hand.
Brad tracked the man’s movements, which looked impossibly slow to him, giving him time to waste on a futile plea.
“No!” Brad buzzed. “I’m not a bug!”
“Filthy fucker!” The man exclaimed as he lashed out with his right hand, directing his palm toward the stunned fly still clinging to the wall.
The hand slammed down on the tiny fly and produced an explosion of pain before the hand lifted.
A trail of gushing bodily fluids helped the insect’s mangled form adhere to the wall for a brief instant before Brad felt himself tumbling toward the ground.
“I’m alive!” He buzzed and tried to take flight. He’d survived, but at a cost.
His broken wings no longer functioned.
“No!” He buzzed them continuously, but failed to get airborne. “Please.”
His faceted eyes, as damaged as they were, gazed up to see multiple images of the oncoming sole of an enormous boot.
He felt another unanticipated spasm as sperm gushed from his insect equivalent of a dick. The brief pleasure mixed with multiple points of pain as the boot cast a dark shadow over him.
“Wait!” The impotent plea buzzed faintly, followed by the unrealistic protest. “I’m not a bug. I’m…”
The red-haired man ground the sole of his boot over the patch of shriveled grass, gravel and parched dirt. When he finished, there was little trace left of the nuisance bug to remind anyone that it had ever existed.