Emiliapocalypse Pt. 2(Emilia Clarke Mass Twinning) (Patreon)

John was minimizing his contact as much as possible as they led him deeper into the bowels of the convention center. As far as he could gather, there was something turning people into Emilia Clarke, and whatever it was was infectious, though how infectious he didn't know. For all he knew he could have been infected back at the bathroom when the first one had bumped into him and struggling was futile, but it wasn't like he could give up on who he was just because of mights or maybes. It was already too late for the two guards, the boss clearly in some discomfort as his throat clears continued to rise, his peach fuzz now a tight cropped brown cut from his former chrome dome only a few minutes prior. He might have had a chance if he could have alerted his partner to the changes, surely gaining an ally in the madness that was this spreading celebrity, but it was already too late for him after that sneeze, the guard constantly sniffling as each time John turned to look, his thick nose was a bit smaller, and just a shade paler than the skin surrounding it.

He sized them up, trying to see if escape had any merits and only seeing an attempt leading to them getting physical, a surefire way to get Emiliaed. It was a dumb idea anyways, their changes going slow and both were intimidatingly muscled. Sure that would all fade soon enough, but not soon enough to let him escape. The boss guy looked like a less round version of the kingpin, his face all business even with a raging cold. His clothes looked a bit loose on him, a sigh occasionally leaving him as his body shuddered subtly, the pooling fabric more noticeable. Perhaps muscle took a while to break down? The boss blinked furiously, swiping at some sweat leaking into his eyes, the nails on his right hand flecked with dots of red, his swipes shaping his eyebrows to styled arches that looked almost comedic. John wished he could laugh, but he was closer to puking than giggling at the absurd sight.

The other guard was still shooting dirty glances, his thick rimmed glasses reflecting the bland fluorescents every now and then as the rims slowly shrunk. It was hard to notice unless you were looking for it, but John could see slivers of plastic fading, ticking down to when they would no longer be needed. He was still clearly pissed about being sneezed on earlier, and the darker skin mixed with a whispered, "Cabrón" led John to assume he was cuban, more useless information as they unlocked a door with the same ring the key to his handcuffs was attached to. The boss pulled out his phone as they gestured for him to enter, dialing 911 while tapping his foot impatiently.

The holding area was bare except for a few bars on the side and some cheap looking chairs. It was also more cramped than he'd like, John very purposefully moving as far as the room allowed from the guards, the boss guy cursing and redialing.

"Alright jamonero, you're going to stay here until the police proper arrive. If you try to fuck with us or do anything stupid, we're going to cuff you to the wall until they ah-ah CHOO!"

John had never jumped from a sneeze before, but thankfully the guard had put his sleeve up in time to catch whatever flew out of his throat, his bulging apple noticeably smaller, their pants after the sneeze not carrying the same low grumble the rest of their words had.

"See I used my sleeve! So I don't fucking give someone the fucking flu!"

He was starting to sweat like the other guard, the tight fit of the guard uniform slacking, something glinting in the light besides his glasses as John squinted at the source of it. A single blue sequin had sprouted, shimmering defiantly amongst the blue and grey thickly cut fabric, a strange adornment for a guard's uniform.

The boss wasn't in a mood for much shit, a few stray wisps of brown peeking out the top of his head, the bulging wrinkles of his forehead flattening with every flex of annoyance. Rather than sequins, John could see pink threads wiring their way up near the collar, pulling it tighter to their throat, the bulge noticeably deforming as they tugged at it with patches of red on their nails.

"Great they're busy with something, all the lines are KFF full."

The other guard tried with his own phone, both getting the busy signal each time. With every failed connection, their tugging grew more insistent.

TUG Kevlar thinned to doilies as a white button popped out the top.

TUG The sausage like fingers were more like breakfast weenies now, each nail shining with red lacquer.

TUG Their insistent throat clearing finished, a pink collar flopping down as the pink won, crushing his neck down to slimmer size, a look of relief washing over his face as the sigh that left sounded British and above all, feminine. John was all but certain he was doomed to join them too, his best case scenario being left alone and forgotten for a while until the changed guards remembered they had another sister to turn in the hold area, their giggles sure to echo as hordes of Emilia approached his panicking, bound self. Though now that he thought about it for a second, was assimilation their primary goal? There was always a look of confusion at first, and the first Emilia had turned away from him when she sneezed. It was only after that moan that she seemed more than happy to spread it to the convention goers, and the two Emilias in the VIP section had called for guards instead of tackling him themselves It was almost like they were preoccupied with...

A plan formed then, one born of desperation, either giving him a chance to escape or dooming him entirely, a complete gamble. It was a bet between focus and lust, assimilation or satisfaction, narcissism vs narcissism.

"Did you like growing up in London?"

There was a pause, both guards confused as they looked at their charge, the question so random it took a second to register.

"Do I look British dumbass?"

His nose did, his annoyed look finishing it with a flair of the nostrils, the nose transplanted onto the rest of his face, cute and tiny, but John could see the boss's eyes flickering with doubt, the pink design now sprouting on his shoulder pads.

"S-Sorry you were born in London, you grew up in Oxfordshire right? All those tourists coming through, gawking at the city..."

He could see the boss guy's foot tapping, the black dress shoe peeling away at every word, leaving the sides and toes open, the black turning pink. Much like with his fingers the repeating taps sent it changing, each toenail gaining a layer of white polish as the corresponding toe wriggled, shedding callus, toe jam, sock gunk and any other unpleasantries, five dainty piggies tap tap tapping as the rest of his foot shrank and feminized. He was noticeably panting now, sweat tangling inside chestnut swirls that tickled his ears, both of them giving a little shiver before the lobes grew pierced, the lobes separating. His other hand tugged at the side of his corduroys, red splotches spreading across growing nails as he tried to better position the stiff fabric, his own stiffness starting to bunch up the front as more pink tendrils popped up from under his fingers.

"Ugh why does that sound familiar? What are you-" It was clear his words were affecting the man, his eyes confused, his other foot now nervously clenched together with his changed one, the leather peeling the second it touched the open sides of his right's pink sandal. It was working, and John knew how to drive it further home, grinning madly as he finished the thought he trailed off on earlier.

"When did you know they'd be gawking at you instead of some boring city? You must have loved the attention."

That one really seemed to land, a whine escaping the first guard like he had just been struck to his core, gasping as his lips plumped, his teeth whitening as flesh toned lipstick smacked over his lips. From there, a perfect layer of foundation spread outwards, taming his twitching masculine features, his hands twitching towards the bulge in his pants as he moaned in Emilia's voice, the actress's features overrunning his cheeks and nose with perfect smoothness. He stumbled a little, confused as his other foot was forced to shrink by feminine footwear, his hand grasping for support as his sleeves frayed into tendrils of pink. Through gritted teeth he moaned, the ridges of his beefy head collapsing, softening with the contours of his chin as years faded from his face until Emilia's voice cooed from Emilia's face, the bulky body it was attached to beginning to shudder.

It wasn't just him either, the other guard struggling as his uniform constricted, one sequin doubling to two, then four, each sparkly disc stabbing through layers of protective clothing to condense them into a stretchy base, though not stretchy enough to avoid choking him as it cramped his ribs and pressed against struggling lungs. Every struggled breath spread the pale skin from his nose, now slinking over his cheeks as their blush grew clearer. They tried to tear through it, but the elastic was stronger, the spreading sequins scratching his fingers as the cuts paled, muscle leaking out as black polish, the tips of his lips prickling as the paleness invaded their ridges. Though he was confused at what was happening, his anger directed towards John, the sneeze forgotten as his mind came to the conclusion that this all started once he started talking. The boss was too busy feeling up his face, circling his cock through pink fabric, though both heard John as the second guard lurched towards him.

"It must be amazing to finally be in musical theater right? I know that's what made you want to act. Show Boat was your first, and you loved the pageantry and the tight, sparkly dresses right?"

John made sure to accent those three words, each one hitting the guard like a truck as the sequined fist of his clothes clenched. Even though it was what he wanted, John couldn't help but cringe a little at the sound, the guard's rib and midsection collapsing inwards with a visceral crunch. That sent them flopping to the floor, gasping like a fish, their features corkscrewing in confusion as what was meant to be painful was clearly taking on a different sensation, the acceptance of pleasure passing like a sneeze over them, the moan sudden, fast and loud.

From John's pov he could only see their outline at what was happening, some of the jagged lumps in the dress slurping inwards, hard bone rounding down to curves. The forced pleasure was stretching their face into hers, the only sign of their previous skin tone from the neck up powdering atop their growing eyelashes as dark mascara lidded their eyes. By this point, his focus was more on his changing body than the prisoner that had started it, their hand flexing in front of their eyes as they stared confusedly at the white, dainty things wriggling on their shrinking arms.

Sequins were everywhere, and they scratched at his skin as they sprouted, plucking and teasing the trembling guard as they pierced into his belt, swallowing it to the growing fabric as his body spasmed against the floor. From the way he was pawing at them, something was clearly happening to his nipples, his eyes twitching, one half shut as he snaked some fingers into his collar, his hand expecting resistance as it tore at the collar only for the neckline to suddenly plunge, revealing a sweaty chest peeling away imperfections, two pert nipples stabbing up through the fabric.

There was no way they'd be getting back up until it was over, and they weren't the guard who mattered anyways, John focusing on the head guy now, humming the music of Show Boat between moans, rubbing his cock frantically under pink taffeta, the embroidery only growing more exquisite the tighter it clamped down.

There was a set pattern to their moans, the guard humming three notes, then gasping with a sultry look, the lump throbbing under their hands as the pink above darkened with dampness. Their belt still hadn't been consumed, the keys jangling every time they came, each release shrinking them, softening them, the former tough guy lost in the pleasure of Emilia. It could have been hours or minutes for John as he watched, hypnotized and horrified by his work in equal measure as cum continued to dampen the fine silk, bulging out and condensing above his cock into a clear bubble of glass, gold filaments stabbing up around like some kind of sun as the lump shuddered and slurped.

He really seemed to like that, moaning the next few notes as a dark stain spat down the bottom of his pants, the seams merging as thick lumps of release dribbled off the hem. It was muscle and fat and cum, all of it draining from his shrinking cock every few notes, another bauble forming below the first as each one sewed together the disparate legs, his shoulders rolling as he swayed side to side. His sides were finally curving inwards, his broad bulwark shoulders popping and relocking slimmer. The belt was now up past his hips, their shape less broad, but more curved, the loops pulling into the pink as his waist was forced to taper. Now he was screaming, each one sounding like he was being fucked and judging from how the lump in the dress was thrashing about, it didn't take much guess work to gather what was doing the fucking. Finally the loops John was waiting for were drawn in amidst his thrashing, mace and walkies clattering to the ground, and finally the keys.

With the sight of them so close John nearly lunged for them, but he knew he had to wait, everything hinging on how Emilia would act once she finished. It was nearly done anyways, his once trunk like legs carved down to twigs, a foot and a half of height spurted out his cock as the thrashing bulge pressed less and less against the dress, sinking ever closer to womanhood. Soon all that was left of him were two bulges, his shrinking cock and a cute pot belly, the former belt firmly crushing the latter while his hands worked the former.

The fat split in two, both halves swiftly shunting to where they needed to be as he squealed in rapt ecstasy, his slim tummy curving up to two firm breasts, leading down to a plump rear and thighs that slammed together as the rest of the dress finished forming. John had never thought he'd ever hear the sound of splitting cock to recognize it, yet the squelch and pop noises coming from the cumming actress were unmistakable, her face filled with need as her hands palmed a flat spot between two of its baubles, a pleased sigh ringing in the birth of a new Emilia.

This was the gamble, the moment he'd either be turned or run. She opened her eyes with a flutter, sighing sexily as her thighs continued to rub the ache between them. John's heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes onto him, kicking the keys over his direction as she took one step, then two. She looked hungry, undoing a button of her dress top, sighing as she prepared to fuck him. John whimpered, not wanting this, frightened that all he had done was sign his own identity death warr-

"FUUUUUUUCK AHHH GAAWWD PLEASE!"

Both their heads swiveled towards the other guard, still fighting it in his sequined dress, his cock tenting the fabric greatly as they watched his throat flatten, the sound of another Emilia like a siren call as the fresh one turned, her prey forgotten.

John had no time to watch, only listen as he kicked the keys over, getting the one to his cuffs separated before turning around, grasping for the odd key out with touch alone. He tried not to panic, but he knew he likely only had a minute or two at most before the guard was fully turned, and there were no guarantees as to how they'd react once both had blown off some steam. It took a bit of time though to grab the key and finesse it into the lock. They were designed to make this kind of thing difficult so he'd need all the time he could get.

"Mmm doesn't it feel wonderful? You of all people should be loving this, your name was already only one letter off and Emilia sounds so much better than Emilio..."

She was teasing him, rubbing her sopping dress against his bulge, smiling at the identical voice moaning out in agreement. It was fun to tease things out, her tongue latching onto a nipple before biting, feeling his body quiver and shake as she worked it up, pulling it out into something firm, soft and utterly will breaking to the boy in blue. For the other nipple she puffed her lips together and blew, feeling something warm and wet gush out around her hands as she played with his breasts, knowing just what to do to drive him mad with lust.

Unable to hold back any longer, Emilia rolled up his dress, surprised to see he still had boxers on, though a quick swipe of her hand fixed that as they shrank into cock crushingly tight panties. She basked in her own pleasured tones, tutting as his balls imploded, the spurts of cum clearing even after being ejected, the mess on his thighs smelling of pussy as his dick wilted. Emilia tried to get one last go with it before it fully vanished, but it was spent, too soft to do anything but melt as she pressed her own panties against his, not stopping until the Emilia under her screamed out in blissful release, her changes finished as whoever she used to be pooled on the floor.

"Ohh fuck that felt good Emilia, but I'm so fucking horny now."

"Oh don't worry, we have that dumb little tosser still locked up over-"

To their surprise the room was empty, the click of the lock and opening of the door lost under the noises of the change, and yet, despite the loss of a person to change, they merely giggled, stripping out of their clothes with only a few light coughs giving hint to their infectiousness.

"Who cares about him anyways, he'll be turned by someone else and besides, I'd rather fuck myself than some poor bastard who hasn't embraced Emilia."

The other Emilia concurred as they wrapped around each other, their moans chasing John through the maze like halls as he ran his ass off.

He didn't know where he was going, only sure that wherever it was, it would be better than there. He turned a few familiar corners after a few minutes of running, the pleased screams fading out as he slowed his pace a bit, gasping for breath after running what felt like a marathon. There was some greater cause behind this, some terrible mystery that held the key to what was happening. And whatever it was, he didn't give a shit. Someone else could figure it out, someone who wasn't a nerd working an entry level job. He always had fantasies of being a hero, but he had neither the skill nor the desire to throw himself into danger anymore than he had already.

Going through double doors he found himself back in the VIP area for the Star Wars show, trying his best not to panic as he heard the sounds of the two Emilia's from before fucking onstage, each smack amplified while from the sound booth, another Emilia was fingering herself as she boosted it all, moaning as she watched from the monitors. That glance was enough for John as the crowd of people in there screamed, some confused, others horrified and more and more horny as brown hair sprouted with breasts, a roiling wave of Emilia infecting the tightly packed crowd as more Emilia's jumped on stage.

The sound booth Emilia must have heard him gasp or whine at the sight, her smile beaming as she asked, "Oh are you a fan? I loooove a good fan."

Back into the maze he went, deciding on two things and two things only. One, he had to find Mikayla now. And two, they had to get the fuck out of here ASAP! And with that, he continued to run, desperately hoping wherever he came out wouldn't be overwhelmed with Emilia's, and quietly concerned at the tightness in his pants, scared that despite the terror inside, despite the impossibility of it all, the sounds of the Emilia's moaning and fucking appealed some deep part of him, a growing urge to join them rising as he ran.