Emiliapocalypse Pt. 1(Emilia Clarke Mass Twinning) (Patreon)

#emiliapocalypse

That was at the top of trending when John opened up his phone, the Emilia Clarke megafan obviously intrigued, but the shitty wifi in the convention hall just wasn't letting twitter load. He tried refreshing it a few times, but each time it only loaded in the trending tab, the tweets themselves just a blank white space. Well, whatever it was, he doubted he wouldn't know what it was for by the end of the day, the halls of the convention center bustling with a mix of fans, a massive Star Wars panel the centerpiece, though plenty of GoT fans were also showing up given Emilia's involvement in the new Han Solo prequel. The movie was already one of his faves, Han being one of his favorite characters in anything and the fact it also brought in his favorite actress? Well it was hard to contain his excitement for the big press conference scheduled for later.

What was going to be announced? A tv series exploring the character? A Qi'ra centered prequel sequel? The possibilities were endless. Thank god she was okay too, some hushed up accident on a set near Russia had apparently left her sick for weeks, but she had just gotten better in time to speak. God he loved her so much already, just the thought of seeing her in person was almost too mu-

"John watch where you're going."

His girlfriend grabbed him by the shoulders, guiding him away from the support pillar he had almost slammed into head first while he was refreshing Twitter.

"Jeez, did you ever almost walk into anything while thinking about me before?"

Mikayla always enjoyed teasing him. Playfully obviously, but it was hard to get upset when she was so fine with his obvious celeb crush.

"I mean didn't you throw yourself at a cardboard cutout of Kit the last time we went to one of these things?"

She blushed at that, clearly not wanting to reminisce on that embarrassment.

"Hey we both agreed to shoot our shot if we ever had the opportunity. And I was drunk on Kumis."

Speaking of drunk, John had definitely had a bit too much water before they left, the convention an hour's ride from where he had picked up Mikayla and near the end, every bump in the road made his full bladder more than apparent. The parking lot was next to a beach and the sound of water crashing definitely wasn't helpful to his predicament, though at least there wasn't too much sand in his sneakers. Looking around, he finally saw what he was looking for, the bathroom sign in bold black shapes above a line of other people all fussing at their belts and costumes, ready to release the mountain dew and water fountain water they'd been building up since entering.

"Ah thank god, are you gonna wait for me?"

"Pfft even the men's bathroom has a line. I'm going to enjoy myself, besides you know I'm not into Star Wars like that, so we can meet back for lunch in the food court. I heard they have blue milk with Tauntaun meat."

John knew it was really just gussied up lamb, but he liked lamb, though he really couldn't think about drinking anything till he pissed so he just gave her a backhanded wave as he ran to join the thankfully not too long line.

John was thankful for his simple Han Solo costume, especially seeing all the layers and belts without an easy place to piss out of in front of him. Behind, a fidgety Jon Snow cosplayer with a runny nose joined the line, pulling out a few balled up paper towels and blowing into them with gusto. John moved a bit away, not wanting to get sick, sure that whatever the guy behind him had was a bit more serious than just allergies given the weird groaning. Actually, now that he was listening for it, a lot of people seemed to be sniffling, though the guy behind him was clearly the worst off, groaning as he clutched his groin like a school child unable to wait much longer. It was that sight that distracted him from the door opening, the girl of his dreams bumping into him from behind.

For a few seconds he was star struck, well, literally since she had ran into him, but just as much figuratively as he tripped over words to try and get something coherent out.

"Sorry, I h-have to g-ohh~ NNGH b-before-"

She seemed to be conflicted, the sides of her mouth switching between a grimace or a look that was almost lewd, the combo admittedly very attractive as her statement got cut off by a sudden sneeze. Emilia had turned her head away, more towards the Jon cosplayer than John himself, though he was ashamed to admit he wouldn't have minded having some of her germs. To his shock, the end of her sneeze was accented with a sudden, captivating moan, her hands fumbling at the red leather skirt, a glazed look passing by before her distraught face sharpened to a pleased smile.

She left then, a small crowd murmuring as stragglers noticed and surrounded the star actress as she walked deeper into the convention hall, an occasional cough here and there the only sign that something had been bothering her only moments ago. John would have followed, but his bladder was more important, though the surprise meeting with his idol left him feeling a little dazed, his cheeks flushed. The guy behind him also must have felt something, given the weirdly choked moan he let out. Looking at him, his wriggling was getting worse, and his beard was starting to fall off in patches.

It was a shame, since it looked expertly done to the point John had assumed it was real, but clearly the spirit gum or whatever was losing its stickiness, otherwise why would patches be falling off into the guy's paper towels and onto the floor? The more he looked, the clearer the cosplay's cracks showed themselves, the guy apparently a blonde, his roots creeping up under the black dye. It was so obvious now, how could he have ever missed such shoddy work? Well thankfully for both of them, the line had petered out and John was thankful as he ran into the lavatory for some relief.

Thankfully, the few urinals lined up weren't occupied, though every stall seemed to be in use, rather violently too. It was never good when you could hear someone's stomach churning from a distance and groans aplenty mixed in with coughs and sneezes from whatever was running through them. He made a note to skip out on that Tauntaun meat, since clearly something was amiss with the food. It wouldn't be the first time a convention had skimped on the catering, but it disappointed John that Disney wouldn't quality check this. But that was a thought for later, for now, he was just happy to have a clear spot to piss and as he unzipped his fly, two bottles of Poland Spring and a Big Gulp finally stopped tormenting him.

The Thrones cosplayer came in while John gave a relief filled, "ahhhhhh," banging on the doors of the stalls only to be greeted with grunts or people yelling, "occupied." When he ran out of stalls, the twitching cosplayer only paused a second before rushing to the urinals. John eyed him from the side, not wanting to stare too much, but it was hard not to feel for the guy, though considering how badly he had to go, he probably should have undid a few of the belts and layers of fur around his junk.

"Fuck fuck c'mon where's the fucking clasp I gotta- UGH sh-shit it's gonna GAH~ Ahhhh AHH P-PLEEEEAAAASE~!"

The guy's frantic cursing weirdly quivered up, like puberty in reverse, that mixed with their tugging turning to tearing brought John's eyes from sneaking a peek to outright gawking at the display. There was something off about them, their hands incongruous with the rest of them. They just didn't seem to mesh with the rest of him and those manicured nails didn't fit with a stoic member of the night's watch. The guy groaned as he tore open his cosplay, a perfect diamond peeling away, exposing a hairy navel and a throbbing member as he began to frantically jerk it.

There were many things John wanted to say, many different versions of "what the fuck is wrong with you" popping into his head, yet none left his lips as the strangeness only intensified. Parts of their cosplay seemed to be unraveling, the diamond cutout bulging out as part of a design as the thick cape and armor clattered to the ground, leaving behind only the shoulder connectors. Their sleeves were separating at his shoulders, the fabric bunching up as they quickly flung it off to the ground, both arms now bare as they pumped away at a now hairless cock.

John knew he should look away, but it was all just so wrong so fast, one of those crazy stories he would be telling for years to come whenever people talked about their convention nightmares. And then it got weird, not to say that a guy jerking it while their clothes dissolved wasn't already weird enough, but once John noticed the shedding of body hair and the smoothing of his skin, that took things up to a whole new level of impossible.

Their entire body seemed to be shifting, meaty scrunches and intestinal gurgles joining the ones from the stalls as the cosplayer's cock suddenly shot out ropes of cum, their discomforted groans rising as their thick belly fat seemed to be rocketing out down below, their whole body shrinking as their outfit turned more revealing. There was something horribly familiar about the voice leaving their lips, their greasy hair plastered in sweat as it drooped down, pulling out more and more blonde from his scalp, his cheeks fully hairless as his body turned thin and svelte. John would have pissed himself if his cock wasn't already out when the person's spine popped, the cavernous walls of the restroom amplifying it to a sudden gunshot as their hips swung side to side, growing wider as pants began merging into the pleated bottoms of a dress.

A wet churning sound began overpowering the others, the changing man's hands pawing at his stomach, his curved back making their contortions all the more enticing as curves filled out along their backside, more cum gushing out as they hugged their shrinking belly. It was hard to tell whether this was painful or ecstatic, their screams quivering between the two as they self heimliched, forcing their shifting fat to flow upwards in one writhing lump that bulged the skin, leaving his waist slender and curvy as they spasmed, two breasts filling the cups of his new outfit.

While before there was some ambiguity to it all, the following groans were nothing but pleasure, the man's face crunching and shifting, their lips puffing into a forced smile as they moaned away the last of it. Every now and then a skeletal shift would cause his body to lurch forward, a shoulder popping in, his ribs compressing. It all looked painful, yet the guy was loving it, and as their head lolled in rapt ecstasy, their features had shifted far enough to finally help John's brain connect the dots as his eyes shifted to slanted, brown jewels. It was Emilia! His body was turning to hers somehow, or at least her character given the blonde hair.

As if to cement this realization, the nearly finished Daenerys cosplayer moaned, their upthrusted cock wobbling as the shots of cum were clearing up. The whole shaft seemed to pulse, squeezing in on itself as it leaked out whatever contents they once held, the tip looking like an invisible thumb was pressing down on it as the slow squeeze made the shaft fold like an accordion. The rest of the final change was obscured by their hands pressing down, a near perfect copy of Emilia Clarke grinding against the base of her palms as something leathery tore apart, a wet squelch bringing her to her knees as she screamed out a desperately horny, "FUUUUUUUCK AHH AH ahhhh~..."

The change was complete.

Her cries were echoed by shaking in the stalls, a few eerily identical feminine moans chorusing together as fabric began to rustle, heels began to clack. At this point it suddenly occurred to John that he should probably move, unsure what the hell was going on, but certain he didn't want any part of it. He quickly shoved his cock back in and ran to the sink near the exit, quickly pumping out some soap and running it under water for a few seconds until he heard the first stall lock clack open. Leaving the water running, John began speed walking away, only catching the former Jon cosplayer out the corner of his eye dragging herself back up, a ponderous look on her face that squirmed into a smile. He refused to look behind him as the clacking grew, more stalls opening, more of the same voice giggling or sighing into British babbles as he bound out the door and into the convention center.

He needed a bit to calm down, his brain trying and failing to process what he had just seen. Had that really just happened? Looking around, no one seemed to be panicking, only sneezing every now and then, everyone going about their routine even if it sounded like December more than July with all the sniffling. Even if wifi wasn't working too well, he had his roommate to call just to make sure he wasn't missing something. It took three tries to finally get him on the line, John waiting with baited breath whether he'd hear Emilia's voice or not.

"What the fuck asshole? I worked god damn doubles all week now let me sleep! I don't care if you left your blaster or whatever here. Get Mikayla to go pick it up or something."

Oh right, Sam slept half the weekends away and he was always grumpy when that was interrupted.

"Er, sorry to butt in Sam, I just have to ask, are there any like police sirens or yelling or signs of the apocalypse with celebrities scratching at the door?"

There was a pause.

"It's LA John. Half of the city is sirens and screaming all the time."

And with that he hung up.

So the world wasn't ending. Or at least not by their place it wasn't. Actually, now that he thought about it, did he even see that stuff? None of it seemed real, in fact he still felt like he was in a daze. Sure he knew dehydration could cause hallucinations, but maybe his overhydration was equally as affecting. He tried googling that, but again the wifi was shitty, the page refusing to load. Again he checked twitter, the #emiliapocalypse more worrying every time he saw it, 50k people tweeting about it, yet not a single one was loading.

Surely there'd be a panic if what he saw wasn't just an isolated fancy? And there was absolutely no way any of that was real. People just didn't change into someone else. Sure there were phases and crap, but he had never heard of someone becoming a celebrity. Hell if that was possible, the nerd community would have gotten really creepy about it by now given all the partial rp sessions he had seen in some of the fan run Star Wars discord servers. John thought himself in circles, his legs carrying him with no destination in mind, nearly making him scream when he saw Emilia Clarke right in front of him.

He had pulled a Mikayla, the cardboard cutout of Qi'ra glancing at him with a knowingly saucy look, as if it was teasing him. Without knowing, he had ended up at the Star Wars display, the doors open, though surprisingly it wasn't as bustling as he expected.

"I heard Qi'ra was at the food court!"

"No I heard she crashed the party lounge and is buying everyone shots."

"Huh? Isn't she doing that Game of Thrones panel too?"

"Pfft why the fuck would she go to that shitshow?"

The three nerds giggled at that as they walked by, one of them sneezing mid chuckle. If he strained he could see a few flecks of blonde in their brown, and John swore one of them was sashaying their hips more with every step. No the other two would have noticed, someone would be panicking or else...

John stared at the open doors and entered, needing an answer.

The exhibition hall had all the hushed excitement of a theater, the people who had camped out filling the first twenty rows, a few empty spots near the back rows where the throng had cleared out. There were sniffles amidst the snickers, coughs amongst the chatter, and occasionally someone would gasp, running from their seat and clutching themselves with a confused, feverish glare to their face. Usually there would be a lot of security around the perimeters, but it was surprisingly thin, John creeping over as he overheard one guard angry whispering between sneezes.

"I can't be expected to CHU corral all these fu-KFF KFF-ing nerds without more backup! I don't care how bad a cold they're having, miss Clarke had a nasty bout and she's still going up there in an hour. God these KFF the- KFF KFF CHHHK SPPPT! Find them now!"

The guard spat something thick into a hanky, still clearing his throat as he walked past John, leaving the way clear.

Could it really be that easy? Surprisingly yes, in fact barely any of the staff seemed to notice him, the only difficult part being a tech guy who was working the soundboard with painted nails. Thankfully they had whatever was going around and after a minute of waiting, they finally sneezed a few times, giving him enough time to pass by unnoticed. All that separated him from the VIP section was a small red curtain. The short staffing seemed to be affecting every department, leaving John free to part one of the corners slowly, planning on confronting Emilia if she was there no matter the consequences, but she wasn't there, only Alden in his Han suit and another guy who seemed to be his agent downing Theraflu. The nearby waste basket was filled with tissues, both their noses red and as the new Han Solo blew his nose, the two began arguing.

"I'm sick of this shit! I lose the directors I was supposed to work with and now we've got a series to do? I thought you said my contract had an option if I wanted to return! I won't, ah won't, ah-ah CHOO!"

John's eyes went wide as he saw the actor's hair explode outwards at the sneeze, blonde tips coloring the fringes of their now shoulder length hair as they wiped their nose, seemingly unaware they were crushing it into a feminine shape. The agent seemed to be nursing a migraine along with the flu symptoms, their own thinning grey manse thickening by the second, brown tendriling through the salt and pepper as they readied their Theraflu like a shot of whiskey.

"I swear Disney edited it after you signed. You know they waited to send us our copy after you signed the second one. God knows what kind of GULP KFF shit they put in, i-in..."

John could actually see the moment his voice changed, the agent's grand gulp swallowing not just the Theraflu, but his Adam's Apple, his lips smacking as they turned thick and glossy. Clearly he felt something was off feeling the now flat spot on his throat as the wrinkles there faded into smooth flesh, the feeling hand thinning as gold polish added itself to his fingers.

"Just great. Have to do ten seasons of this shit. Even had me change accents halfway through and said I needed an acting coach the bastards. They don't even properly check their shoot sites! I know they had that accident a month ago while doing principal photography for Qi'ra. What was it, native burial grounds in China? Nuclear waste from the soviet era? Occult sacrifice chambers from the Byzantine? Planaria flu?"

He waited for his agent to respond, his own fingernails painted black, each one thinning down as they crushed the tissue into a ball. He was starting to sound congested when he threw the balled up snot rag at his agent.

"Like they'd tell your useless ass. All I know is Emilia' still, E-Emilia's... Mmmilia's so sexy..."

Something about the word caught in Alden's throat, John getting a sense of Deja Vu as he watched the new Han Solo rubbing the clear bulge pressing against his cargo pants. Before John's eyes the more he repeated her name, the more his pants began to tear, a thin slit appearing, pant legs merging as the monochrome fabric sparkled with hints of embroidered designs. The neckline plunged as he repeatedly moaned out her name, his neck's bulge traveling with it as more collarbone was exposed, the circular bump splitting in two as the halves wriggled under his skin, landing under his nipples as his head rocked back in a pleased cry, both of them jutting out hard as a hand moved from his cock, to his chest.

The nameless agent was conflicted, clearly enjoying it, but frustrated about the enjoyment, shaking his head back and forth like a dog trying to shake off fleas, gripping his head as he angrily groaned, "Stop saying her name like that. Fuck! She's the one who gave us her cold and I- NNGH God it's like I can hear that bitch in my head!"

He gripped his forehead at the last word, grunting as his shaking hands crunched bone and flesh, the rest of his face joining in with his lips as Emilia looked atop his body, his own trousers thinning to something wispier, his hands struggling to avoid his own erection.

"Emilia Emilia Emilia! Why don't you go marry me- h-her! Ugh it's so hot, I can't think like, like GaaaAAAWWWD~!"

Like the first guy John had seen, the agent was a tearer, pulling at his clothes and shredding them with ease, all while starting to gyrate his hips in a circle, his cock squished between his thighs. The unappealing sight of his sagging, aged body was quickly rectifying itself, sunspots, boils and wrinkles being vacuumed up into the spreading layer of cream, their skin now a perfect plateau, one they couldn't stop rubbing as they moaned in a tone that dripped of dying resistance.

Alden(?) was actively kneading a breast with one hand, his balls with the other, moaning as the former rose in tandem with the latter pressing inwards. His face was fully Clarked, shooting his changing agent with a lustful glare, each moan teasing the reluctant victim as he ravished his own body. He shifted his position in the chair, giving John a clear shot of his panties as he watched him work the bulge below his cock inside, the panties dampening as his fingers pressed into a hole that hadn't been there moments ago.

The squeal the half girl screamed was unabashedly horny, John feeling guilty he was getting turned on by the show. The former Han Solo's feet were for a second being strangled by their own shoes, the flesh purpling from lack of blood flow as his boots turned skeletal, the heels extending as both of them twitched before deflating to perfect fits. It was like his body was fading into hers, his legs shrinking away into the folds of her dress, lengthening in all the right places while curves added to their appeal. Her breasts had finished, so she was now trying to finger herself, moaning as she began making headway on her cock while the other hand dived below, thrusting into the gap her balls had fallen into. With a final, forceful dive, the new Clarke clone came, squealing as she forced the last piece of her former self inside with an effort that left her panting in arousal.

For a second, she stared at the slit, horror briefly flitting across her features before her body shivered, that glassy look John had seen on her face in the bathroom reappearing, her eyes changing color as she snapped out of her daze. She smiled at the still struggling agent, stroking her leaking slit as she teased him.

"Oh I'm a bitch am I?  That's not a nice thing to say to yourself. Mmm~ what else are you Emiliahhh~?"

"SHUT UP! Shut up! Shut, up, shuuuuht AHHHP~!"

The agent's fight wasn't going well, their clothing torn to thin slips of black fabric, their hips thrusting against something invisible as their hands kept feeling up their forming curves. Their waist was flattening down to anorexic levels before throbbing, a low moan leaving him as his navel curved appealingly, his barely covered nipples suddenly popping to life as the flesh behind them steadily swelled.He tried pushing them back in, only making the pleasure worse as his gyrations rapidly hastened, his presses turning to gropes.

"Noooo~ I'm not a, n-naaawt her I-I'm-"

His hips sounded like popcorn in a microwave, the bones popping apart as it made his swaying all the more alluring. Whether he wanted to or not, he was moving in a flagrantly sexy manner, his cries of no sounding anything but as he groped his swelling chest, his ass joining in once his hips finished spreading. The other Emilia got out from her seat to give his growing rear a nice grope, the agent's cries of "no" stopping altogether.

"Again, what are you, Emilia?"

Something broke in their mind at the question, their face slackening, not a hint of despair in the moans that followed as the finished clone stepped aside, the almost Emilia crushing her cock between growing thighs. Her shifting slowed down, sensually dragging it out as each shift left and right forced her cock to slide in a tad, each one causing a spurt of cum to dribble down as it was reduced to half its size, then a quarter, the rest of her all Emilia as she screamed, one final surge in her thighs sending the nub of a cock left slurping inside her folds. She gave her twin a sultry look, playfully teasing back, "I guess we're both sluts for each other aren't we Emilia?"

As terrifying the prospect of becoming her was, John was in the end, a massive Emilia Clarke fan and he was more than happy to watch the two go at it before he got the fuck out of-

DANANANA DANANANA DANANANANA~!

He tried to silence his phone but instead answered it, the two Emilia's heads whipping around for the source of the noise.

"Holy shit John you won't believe this I have like, the greatest surprise for you and you can't ever say I'm not the best girlfriend eve-"

"Now's not the time Mikayla!"

He angrily whispered, already moving away from the two changed girls as fast as he could without making too much noise.

"No hear me out John I know it's the presentation or whatever now, but you have to come to the cantina area, You'll die off-"

This time Mikayla wasn't cut off by him, but by the shouts of the two Emilia's, both of them screaming, "SECURITY! THERE'S A PERVERT BACKSTAGE! SECUUURITYYY~!"

That's where his call ended, the shouts quickly attracting the attention of two of the event's guards, two burly looking guys whose appearance screamed don't fuck with me past the one on the right's weird peach fuzz dyed in an abstract pattern. It was only after they knocked him to the ground and took his phone did he recognize the man on the right, the head guy from earlier who had been annoyed at the missing staff, his voice breathier than before when he wheezed out, "Alright asshole, we're going to take you to a holding area backstage and when the police come they'll KFF KFF! HKK HKK Fuckin cold."

It wasn't the pair of cuffs that scared him as they bound his arms behind him. That was nothing as to John's horror, the peach fuzz was rising with every cough, the color browning. The other guard offered him a tissue which he shook away before violently sneezing, the other guard's glasses fogging as he glared at his boss, clearly holding back a lot.

"Lets just detain this punk and the next time I hand you a tissue, you fucking ta- ayhhhhCHU!"

They dragged him with them, both guards now infected, and if John didn't get away soon, there was no doubt he'd be joining them for a triplet threesome.