The tiny form of a fly zipped out of their window, drifting across the yard, before coming to a stop on a fence post separating their property from the next.
“Go back,” Brad ordered, bringing his front arms up to clean his compound eyes of the dust and debris that came from pushing himself out of his own window screen. “It’s not safe out here.”
The fly’s mind was simple, primitive, but it was powerful. Slowly, influencing Brad was becoming easier and easier.
Not safe. Safer in there.
Brad stared, unblinking, at the piles of garbage lining the street. Particularly, the one with an open lid. If he had lips, he would’ve bitten them, the consciousness of the fly pulsing just beneath his own, influencing the mind of the scientist.
It had, truthfully, been the best sex of his life. And Mark was still out, and likely would be for a bit longer..
Maybe..if he acquiesced here.. he could better control the fly side of himself to get back home.
“Not safe.” Brad agreed. Safer in there.”
Together, they buzzed their wings and took off from the fence post, heading towards the trash.
He couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, deep down, at the way he was getting away with this.
They landed on a mountain of white plastic, other flies dotting the various landscape. To Brad, it could have been a snow covered mountain, but the smells emanating from below reminded him where he was at.
“All the way down?,” Brad asked, hesitant. Breed. Fuck, feed. Safe. The fly agreed.
They crawled down - vertically!, brad thought- past a gap between the trash bag and the rim of the trash can, plunging into darkness. Brad was unsure, but his fly side took over, navigating the giant boulders that were the trash bags until they reached the bottom.
One of the bags had split, spilling its contents to the bottom of the barrel- half eaten pizza, soda cans, chicken bones- a fly’s paradise.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, Brad thought, as he crawled over the tab of the soda can. Just once. And then we can go back home.