Kafka’s Metamorphosis, but make it sexy.
All credit for the prompt goes to the one and only cinaedus! I couldn’t exactly make The Metamorphosis sexy, so I did the next best thing and wrote a sequel. Go read, rate and comment on his work. Do it! Do it now!
Gregor Samsa awoke. How did he awake? He ought to have starved to death the night before, his monstrous body emaciated and gaunt.
And yet, he felt… alive. Vital. Strong.
A dull, rhythmic throbbing echoed in his skull. His skull? He had a skull again? He could sense it was so, but found himself unable to move his arms – if what he felt flailing about his body were in fact a man’s arms once again – to reach towards his “head” and validate this suspicion.
He could make little sense of what he perceived. Strange melodic tones interspersed with the rhythmic throbs. Bursts of light permeating the darkness. Something cold and hot all at once in his mouth, down his throat. Odd convulsions and movements in what he could only pray was indeed a human body.
As quickly as he awoke, he could feel his consciousness slipping away. No, no, no! He wanted desperately to explore this new possibility, to reclaim his humanity. To find Grete, and his parents. To make amends…
Gregor awoke again with a pounding headache. He was quite unable to open his eyes, but a simple examination of the sensory input available to him confirmed his wildest hopes: he had a body, a man’s body, once again. He sensed strength in it, and vitality. And virility, if its morning engorgement was anything to go by.
If only he could induce his new vessel to move.
Quite apart from his own volition the body he occupied groaned. Was that his voice? It had been so long since he last spoke, perhaps he’d forgotten…
The body opened its eyes and through them, Gregor began to see once again.
His body – nude, he realized – rolled over and sat up, groaning again. And small wonder: its stomach felt perfectly wretched.
The body lurched upright and stumbled over to the dresser before propping itself up in front of the mirror. Gregor, along for the ride, simply prayed for a safe deliverance to wherever the body was attempting to take itself.
In his mind, he gasped.
The eyes that stared back at him were not his own; rather, they were a startling green. They shone beneath the most unconventional hairstyle he had ever seen: a short fringe of black hair that hung over his (its?) forehead while the sides of its (his?) pate were shaved clean. A small nose and large, pouty lips filled out the visage, all perched above a slim, lean body he did not recognize at all, save for its ardent manhood, which was strikingly similar to the modest yet satisfying handful he sported before his nightmare journey began.
He did not dislike what he saw. Quite the opposite, in fact. A part of himself he’d always kept quiet, shut away from himself and his family, stirred in the back of his mind.
He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, in equal parts awe and terror, before realizing with shock that the body had responded to his commands.
The body retched and bolted for what he could just barely recognize as a bathroom, and began to vomit, its erection rapidly flagging.
Grete. His parents. He must get back to them. He must…
He retched again.
He knew no more.
“Otto, you missed the hottest guy last night,” his body was saying.
“Hans, babe, you say that every night,” another voice responded.
Gregor awoke again to find himself sitting outside a cafe on a bustling street. A scene that was so familiar and yet so alien. The clothes, the lights, the vehicles, the people tapping on strange rectangles instead of looking up and taking in their surroundings… had he the agency over his body, he would have gaped and gawked like a perfect fool.
“I mean it this time,” Hans was saying. “He was so nice! He even took me home and was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t take advantage of me at all even though I was totally shitfaced.”
“My condolences,” said the person who must be Otto, sitting opposite while sipping from a mysteriously transparent cup of what could only be coffee, yet…with cubed ice? On a hot summer’s day? Where would he have procured such a fanciful boon?
His body and Otto chatted back and forth in recognizable, if odd-sounding, German. It seemed as though they were recounting certain escapades from the night previous, and Gregor found himself able to follow along. Some words were completely alien to him, such as Instagram or Vodafone. Others were equally alien, and yet somehow he knew what they meant, as if knowledge was simply leaking into his mind. Twink. Audi. Brexit.
He found himself able to take on even more agency, able to pause the conversation and take a drink from what he suddenly knew was a Grande Caramel Macchiato despite never having heard of one.
He knew he was in a place where men were permitted – sometimes encouraged, even – to lay with other men.
His nether regions stirred. “What I would have loved that man to do to me,” his body was saying. “Shame I didn’t get his number.”
“Well, are we hitting the club again tonight?” Otto asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you’ll run into him again.”
Gregor prayed the answer was yes. He was beginning to feel more at home in this strange, alien world than he ever had as a travelling salesman supporting his family. His family who abandoned him. Threw apples at him. Had no time for him.
“Of course,” he found himself saying, instinctively reaching to pick up his rectangle to take a… what did they call it, a selfie? Yes, A selfie. “I intend to make the most of this opportunity.”
The camera clicked, and all was black.
Gregor awoke in the same environment in which he found himself originally, he was sure of it. The dull pounding in his head was now a low, visceral vibration he understood to be something called bass – some radically advanced form of orchestral percussion, he assumed – and the melodic tones were in fact some manner of tribal-sounding music. The bright flashes were coloured lights from astonishing equipment he could barely comprehend, arrayed around the establishment. His body moved and gyrated to the beat in a hedonistic manner Gregor had witnessed in others at certain social events in his youth but never felt comfortable expressing himself.
He wanted to express it now, though, along with the other men – yes, men, an astonishing variety of men in a kaleidoscopic array of revealing clothing he could not believe was allowed – occupying the so-called dance floor with him.
He allowed himself to fall into a trance-like state, simply enjoying and sometimes even anticipating the movements of his new body. In fleeting moments he almost fancied that it executed some of his commands. A foot-tap here, a sly glance there, a “Good music, isn’t it,” shouted to a dancing companion who clearly did not hear what he said but seemed glad to have had it said to him.
Gregor and his new body spotted a tall, muscular man in short pants – extremely short pants – and a shirt made out of what looked like fishnet make his way to the dance floor. He felt an immediate attraction in body and mind, and was pleased to discover that he was able to move towards the target of what he was rapidly beginning to acknowledge were his affections.
Affections such as he had always repressed in his former… could he even call it a life anymore? Just one day in this new body and he was beginning to realize how little he missed his old existence. How little it suited him. How out of step it was with who he knew himself to be inside.
He allowed his body to flirt for him. He was wildly unpracticed at it, but found that he increasingly understood its intentions. A jut of the pelvis here, a batted eyelash there. A caress on the shoulder.
“I’m Gunter!” the man shouted in a brief lull of the music before the beat dropped.
“Hans!” he replied, not even tempted to convince the body to use his old name.
Was it he or his body who initiated a stroll to the bar, arm in arm, to acquire more libations?
He didn’t care.
His – his body’s – apartment. Gunter throwing him on his own sheets. With a start he realized that his vessel was running less and less of its own accord, as if it trusted him to lead the way. For a moment he simply leaned back on his elbows, legs spread, taking in the view of the tall, muscular man at the foot of his bed as he removed his near-pointless shirt. As he shimmied out of his short-pants, revealing his ardent manhood – far larger than Gregor’s own - nearly reaching up to his navel.
As he crawled onto the bed, between Gregor’s legs, and leaned in for a kiss.
Gregor returned the kiss. His first in a long, long time. His body shook and trembled as he pressed his lips against his paramour’s gently at first, and then more insistently. His lips parted and he moaned around the man’s tongue as it slithered into his mouth and ran sensually along his teeth.
He lay down fully, wrapping his arms around Gunter’s broad frame and energetically grinding his swelling member into a harder set of abdominal muscles than he ever dreamt could exist. He – his body? The distinction hardly mattered anymore – groaned as Gunter’s hands worked their way along his chest, his nipples, his back, and slowly undid his buttons, helping him undress.
They broke the kiss as Gregor lifted off his undershirt and they regarded each other’s expression for a pregnant heartbeat.
“You’re so beautiful,” they said simultaneously.
“Danke,” they responded, giggling and blushing.
Gunter leaned in for another kiss and gently lowered Gregor back to the bed, treating him with more grace and care than anyone since he was a babe in arms. “I’m so glad we found each other again,” Gunter murmured, licking and kissing his way down Gregor’s body.
“Me too,” he sighed, relaxing into Gunter’s tender embrace. Then, his body added quite independently, “I was hoping we’d get to know each other like this.”
He gasped as Gunter’s fingers brushed his manhood. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the sensation of Gunter teasing his glans, his shaft, of licking the inside of his thighs, which proved to be more sensitive than he could have ever imagined.
A warm wetness engulfed his length and he cried out before clapping his hands to his mouth, desperate not to wake the neighbours he somehow knew were on the other side of a too-thin wall.
He had heard tell, heard jokes, of such activities, but to experience it for himself…
As his mind exploded with pleasure his body reacted with more experienced aplomb, withholding itself from the point of no return and allowing Gregor time to come back to his senses. He bucked his hips and jammed a fist into his teeth to muffle his wordless keens of ecstasy.
The wetness left his shaft to be replaced by Gunter’s hand, which slid up and down its length with practiced ease. His paramour looked him in the eyes and parted his lips. “Do you have any lube?”
Wordlessly, on sheer instinct, Gregor reached over to his night-stand and opened the drawer, fishing out a container made of a material he didn’t recognize but knew held the substance Gunter sought.
“Danke,” Gunter grinned. “It’s been so long since I bottomed and I want to feel you inside me.”
Gunter squeezed a generous dollop of clear gel out of the container and with one hand massaged it into Gregor’s prick, enjoying the slack-jawed look of lust on the twink’s face, while the other disappeared from view as it ventured to his own nether regions. He smiled lasciviously and sighed in pleasure as his out-of-view hand worked on his hole. Without breaking eye contact, he continued to lube up Gregor’s pole while leaning down to take his balls into his mouth, giving them a warm, wet tongue bath.
Neither Gregor nor his body knew what to do, the former overwhelmed with unprecedented lust and the latter simply enjoying the attention it was receiving.
All too soon Gunter ceased his ministrations, causing Gregor to lift his head and whine in frustration, a twin impulse shared by his mind and his new vessel.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” Gunter said, scooting forward to kneel over and straddle Gregor’s groin. He reached behind to fondle Gregor’s prick once again and nestle it between his cheeks. “We’re just getting started.”
He began to rock up and down, pulsing gently on Gregor’s cock. Gregor stared up in awe at the gorgeous, muscular Adonis with a bobbing monster of an erection astride his hips who was moaning and cooing with sensual abandon, and began to work his hips in time to the bigger man’s thrusting. His cock curved and flexed with each push upwards, sending thrills of pleasure through his body.
Slowly, deliciously, inexorably, something began to give way. A soft, tiny aperture opened around his tip and, squeezing most delightfully, swallowed his glans and held tight just below them. He and Gunter gasped as one and held perfectly still, content to maintain their erotic tableau until their ardour lessened slightly, allowing them to enjoy the moment.
They locked eyes, and with an unspoken agreement began to work towards their mutual goal again, thrusting towards each other in gentle, insistent pulses.
Gregor flushed and thrilled each time the impossibly tight ring worked itself a little further down his member, engulfing him in a wet, hot furnace. He closed his eyes and intertwined his fingers with Gunter’s and continued his gentle, subtle thrusts until finally Gunter’s buttocks met his thighs and the weight of him pushed them both into the mattress.
He opened his eyes and flexed his cock inside Gunter, watching avidly as the larger man closed his own and groaned at the extra intrusion. Gregor had always appreciated that flexing his Kegel muscles caused a minor inflation of his otherwise engorged member, but never realized just how significant that size difference could be before trying it inside another man. The way Gunter reacted as though he’d doubled in size nearly pushed him over the edge again, but thankfully his body knew how to regulate itself and kept him from toppling.
They began a gentle, nearly silent rut, slowly pulling apart before coming back together, but quickly increased their speed and volume as libido got the better of them. Gunter took charge of the fuck, leaning back to balance on his hands and slam himself down onto Gregor’s smaller frame, his cock bouncing wildly in the air, spitting precum in all directions.
Gregor and his body lost all ability to keep up and he soon found himself thrusting wildly, arrhythmically, spasmodically, as he and his body gave into passion and lust. He drank in Gunter’s muscular body pounding itself onto his manhood and felt his climax build as again and again that tight, hot, ring of ecstasy rode down to the root, hungrily consuming every bit he had to offer.
“Gunter… Gunter… I… I’m…” he gasped.
“Do it, I am too, do it,” Gunter groaned in response, lifting one hand from the bed to seize control of his bouncing cock and jerk it as rapidly as he could. “I’m, I’m, I’m, unnnggg!”
Gregor’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and even before the first drops of Gungter’s orgasm landed on his belly he came, spasming harder and more intensely than he ever remembered doing before.
He stared at the ceiling, dazed, as Gunter’s face swam into focus above him. “That was wonderful, Hans,” it said, lowering itself for another kiss.
Gregor wanted to respond, wanted to raise his head in return, but once again found himself unable to take agency. No, no, not again! Not when he was… home? He began to black out, his last memory being the faintest brush of Gunter’s lips on his own.
Hans woke with a start. No! Please, let him be in his new body. Old body? His thoughts were horribly muddled. Like a distant nightmare, images and memories of another life, of monstrosities and abandonment and apples, surged through his mind only to recede towards his subconscious. Not like a dream, per se. Nothing so ethereal and fleeting. But something powerful and permanent, something he’d never forget, something to… inform who he was. Who he wanted to be going forward.
He felt older, somehow. Like a new man. Like he’d lived a whole other life and was ready to embrace and appreciate what he now had on levels he never knew existed.
A gentle snore drew his attention back to the present and he smiled. Gunter. They’d reconnected after all. Was it a one-night stand? Something more?
He snuggled into Gunter’s broad back, enjoying the notion of being the big spoon to a comparative giant. His cock slowly hardened between them, leaving a trail of pre along Gunter’s spine as it lengthened, and he draped an arm around the bigger man’s waist to idly stroke his dick to life as well.
He’d changed since yesterday. Metamorphosed, as it were. For some reason, part of him wanted to be called Gregor, but just as quickly, that part of him let the name go, as if to say, “No, he had his turn. We like being Hans instead.”
Slowly, gradually, Hans drifted back to sleep, Gunter snoring softly in his arms.