Gregor is reduced to invalidity by his wound (no one has the nerve to remove the apple from his back), but he is no longer treated as an enemy. With Grete working at a store, his father at a bank, and his mother sewing piecework and doing much of the housework (the servant has been let go), no one has much time or energy to worry about Gregor. Grete still leaves food for him, but takes no notice whether he eats it or not. No one cleans his room anymore. An old cleaning woman who comes to help with the cleaning has taken to looking in on Gregor, addressing him as "dung beetle." The family has taken in three fastidious lodgers, and, to accommodate them and their belongings, excess furniture and odds and ends have been moved into Gregor's room. All of this breeds in Gregor a growing resentment.

The three bearded lodgers are domineering and demanding. Not used to housing guests, the family is excessively deferent to the lodgers' wishes. The family eats in the kitchen while the men dine in the parlor. One evening, Grete begins to practice her violin in the kitchen. The lodgers invite her out into the parlor for a concert. She obliges, but the lodgers soon become impatient with the performance. Gregor, on the other hand, is profoundly moved. It is the first time he has heard his sister play in a long while, and he begins to creep into the room towards her. It is also the first time since his transformation that he finds the promise of succor. He wants to protect Grete's gift of talent from the indifference of these philistines, and to tell her of his intention to send her to the conservatory. One of the lodgers sees Gregor, and all three declare that they will leave the next day; further, they will not pay the rent that is due.

The family decides it must abandon the notion that this monstrous bug is their Gregor. If it really were him, Grete reasons, he would have gone away on his own and spared them this torment. Gregor, covered in dust and now barely able to move, skulks back to his room. The door is shut and barred behind him. Gregor agrees with his sister. He thinks of his family with love and affection. That night he dies.

The cleaning woman discovers the thin corpse the next morning and rouses the household. The family comes to look, then retires to the parents' bedroom to weep. When the lodgers emerge and grumble about the lack of a ready breakfast, the father commands them to leave immediately. They go, and the cleaning lady soon follows. Profound relief seeps into the family's bearing and countenance. For the first time since the metamorphosis, they are all free to leave the apartment together. They take a trolley out to the countryside. They discuss their future prospects, which aren't really so dire. All three have secure jobs, and now they can move to a smaller and more economical apartment. It is a warm, sunny day, and as the trolley rolls along, the parents look at their blossoming daughter and realize it may be time to find her a husband.

The lodgers are another comic element in this bizarre tale. They are drawn as caricatures: one martinet and his two marionettes. By kowtowing to this ludicrous threesome while in its own house, the family reaches the low-point of its misfortune. Yet the lingering presence of the insect son, the great burden, holds the family hostage. Only after Gregor's death does the liberation of their spirits occur, self-respect truly bloom, and the future become a bearable thought.

For most of the story, the narrating voice is closely linked to Gregor. It is not Gregor himself, for it maintains a detachment--a hint of humor in face of the absurd--that Gregor does not share. Yet the narrating voice has no more knowledge of the events of the story than does Gregor. It is confined with him in his room, it listens at the keyhole, it follows his reveries when the rest of the world is barred by closed doors, it departs when he faints, and it returns when he wakes. Yet, the narration outlasts the suffering protagonist. The narrating view expands to omniscience; it has seen death before, and it has seen life go on in its strange, twisted, yet utterly expected way.