[WIP] Pit Pandemic (Patreon)

A while back I got super fixated on the idea of a pandemic that turns its victims into identical clones of Pit (with various interesting "mutations"). I collaborated with The Saint Edgelord (one of my OG patrons) to write a series of stories from the perspective of people experiencing the Pitdemic - They created the first story, and the one you're about to read is my liberal rewriting of their work.

I've been considering finishing this eventually but it's rough around the edges and would need some heavy duty rewriting still, imho. Plus I think I'd prefer drawing this concept instead. Nevertheless, I figured I'd drop it here for your enjoyment. Feedback greatly appreciated!

The Saint Edgelord's original draft can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49290406/chapters/124377691

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“According to all known laws of reality, it shouldn’t exist”. A phrase repeated time and time again, first by top virologists, then politicians, religious leaders and eventually damn near everyone. The virus existed in spite of it, caring not one iota for the disbelief of the masses, as if disbelief could somehow dispel reality - Every virus known to humanity, up until this point, had politely followed a very simple ruleset – Kill or maim its host using whatever means available to it. The newest virus on the block, instead, played a very different game:

It transformed you into Pit, the Nintendo video game character.

Or, more specifically, it turned you into an androgynous, brown-haired femboy with a plump butt, a thick cock, a pair of wings too small to ever fly with, a sunny personality and no ability to read whatsoever.

Except for when it didn’t stop there, of course. Different variants and strains made themselves known quite early on, and those who fell victim were subjected to further reality-bending transformations -Some butts ballooned far beyond the realm of anatomical possibility. Others saw their feet swell to enormous sizes, and many enjoyed penises twice as large as they were. Some even swelled into fantastical blueberry/human hybrids, and many more strange forms were being discovered daily. Once you were infected there was no telling what would happen to you – But you were at least guaranteed to be a horny femboy himbo.

Physical contact, either casual or intimate, was the most common form of transmission, though the latter was far more potent. It was common for infected “Pits” to seek out partners and spread the disease further – The virus also spread through food, and the air, though these were notably less effective.

The ease of transmission (and the general reluctance of many to refuse the Pit clone’s advances) had seen the virus spread across most of the western hemisphere already, with millions infected and a mass quarantine established.

To date, it had only been recorded in cisgender and transgender men – Another unique quirk of the virus, only being able to transform people who were already psychologically male – Anyone who identified otherwise could consider themselves safe.

This, of course, was a false sense of security. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The national quarantine had been underway for five months, and Jack and Emily liked to believe they had been weathering it fairly well, all things considered.

Jack was one of the few men able to still provide during the pandemic - His job had transitioned to remote-work only, once an office party that turned into an office orgy saw half their workforce become illiterate overnight.

His wife of three years and the love of his life, Emily was average as well, a little shorter than him, standing at 5’5” and about the same build. Her job was also safe, as she did commission work online, though every once in a while she’d lose a client (as they lost the ability to care about anything that wasn’t sex, along with the ability to compose emails).

It was the start of a new week, and their quarantine provisions had run low again. Jack used to be the one responsible for shopping but he actually rather liked the way he looked and wasn’t in the mood to become a horny himbo anytime soon – The task fell to Emily, who felt quite safe by comparison.

She’d been exposed to the virus many times already, with absolutely no effect. Even the few Pit clones she’d met didn’t pay her much mind. She assumed, correctly, they weren’t really into girls.

<NEED TO INSERT MORE STUFF HERE>

Emily jogged down the empty street, lost in thought when all of a sudden, from behind her -

“Hiya!”

In that all-too-familiar voice, one that she’d heard hundreds of times before on shocking news broadcasts, stern PSAs and candid video essays. Emily swiftly suppressed her immediate instinct to yelp in surprise, reminding herself she was safe, and turned to face Pit. “What’s up?” he asked casually, strolling alongside her. Emily couldn’t help but assess him for a second, much in the same way one assesses a wild animal who’s cute, and small, but still unpredictable – She rarely saw Pits this close. “Umm… Nothing much, I guess?… I’m just going to get, uh… I’m getting groceries.” This particular Pit had transformed recently, wearing a stern-looking business suit a full two sizes too large for him. “Cool! I’m going shopping too! For clothes! Mine kinda suck.” he chuckled, and lifted a bulky sleeve to make his point. “Are you shopping for clothes too? Grocery stores have clothes, right? I like yours. Did you get them at a grocery store? If you’re buying new clothes, can I have yours?” Emily was trying to figure out which stupid question to answer first before Pit decided having no clothes was probably his best option, and unceremoniously tossed the long-suffering suit into a nearby bush. “Seeya! Nice meeting youuuu!” he cried, happily running off to find someone to do what Pits do best. Emily just watched him go, still a bit shocked, a bit afraid to move lest that set any potential infection into motion – But a minute passed and her hair was still the same color, her butt the same modest size and the grocery store’s sign was still eligible, so she hesitantly declared herself safe and sauntered onward.

Jack deserved to be spoiled, she thought, and a big breakfast was probably the best way to do that. Pancake mix, berries, juice, dairy… Interestingly, the shelves were much more vacant than usual, the result of mass product recalls in the wake of the virus developing the ability to spread through food. What few brands had been deemed safe for consumption were now marked by a golden caduceus stamp. Emily thought the wing motif was a little ironic.

The store was packed with women, all shouldering the same responsibility for their partners, with the notable exception of a very large and loud man at the checkout, who made sure everyone heard “There ain’t no way that gay virus gon’ get me. I ain’t no sissy”. Emily swore he shrank a few inches as he left.

When she returned, Jack greeted her with a sleepy kiss. “Thanks for doing the shopping sweetie. I don’t know how I would manage this without you…” He said, still half asleep. Emily reciprocated with a decidedly less sleepy kiss. “It’s the least I can do for you, babe. Wouldn’t want you running around the apartment getting cum on everything, right?” she chuckled. Jack chuckled and reached for Emily’s orange juice, which she quickly swiped out of reach. “Just a sec, mister. Promise you don’t just chug half the bottle down like last time, we gotta make this last at least until Thursday” she reprimanded him with mock sternness. Jack sheepishly grinned and mumbled a drowsy promise, and with prize in hand, retreated to his den to begin the workday. Emily, for her part, got to work on spoiling him with a massive breakfast. Perhaps she should have noticed it was just the slightest bit easier to reach the ingredients on the top shelf than usual – But she was a bit too preoccupied.

All Jack could say was “I love you so fucking much” when he saw the banquet. “Dig in before it gets cold, dummy” replied Emily, in a tone that said the exact same thing Jack had. They each devoured half a stack of pancakes before slowing down, and idly began turning to conversation. The usual topics, how did you sleep, anything interesting happening at work, this lockdown is driving me crazy and whatnot, but then Jack, quite casually, brought up the big one.

“So, we ever hear back from the adoption place?”

Emily swallowed, and considered her words carefully. They both wanted a family, that much was certain. It was also certain that Emily was incapable of having kids at all – It hadn’t bothered her until she met Jack, and realized she wanted more than just the two of them. Much less certain were their adoption options. They’d been interested for years but every time the answers came back negative: “We’re vacant”, “We’re maybe looking for an older couple”, “We think this kid belongs in a higher income family” (the last one had particularly confused her, considering the two of them were far from poor). Against all odds, every time they actually heard back from the “adoption place”, the answer was invariably ‘No’.

“They said no.” replied Emily, bluntly. Jack just sighed. “I mean… Are we really asking for that much? Just a family. Plenty of people have that, right? Is it really that big of an ask?” Emily returned to her pancakes. Apparently, the answer was ‘yes’.

After a minute, Jack brought up the absolutely horrible new episode of that weird show again and the atmosphere lightened with shared mockery of corporate writing.

After breakfast the pair did the dishes and cleaned up, and Jack took to the treadmill. If he was going to be inside all day, he wasn’t going to let himself wither away and atrophy, or gain weight. Emily, on the other hand, wanted to get ahead on commissions and got cozy in her usual spot on the couch.

Halfway through reading her latest batch of client correspondence, the tingles began.

It started quite subtly, just a little buzzing in her fingertips, easily ignored. Then it worked its way up her arms as she typed, up her body and to her head, where it slowly intensified into a throbbing headache. Emily chalked it up to eye strain, since she hadn’t put in her contacts, and headed to the bathroom.

But when she glanced at the mirror, she froze.

She hadn’t touched her hair in months. But in place of her flowing raven locks, she now had a short, reddish-brown mane more common to anime characters than real people. Running her fingers through it only made it more real.

“This isn’t happening” she said, simply. But it was. And it was happening a lot more aggressively now she’d noticed it.

As she stared in mute disbelief, her face remolded itself, adding a tinge of masculinity to her features that made her look more boyish than anything. Her skin tone deepened into a tan hue, washing out from her nose and over her body. Her belly tingled and she lifted her shirt in time to see her extra bodyfat part like a wave, revealing a toned core beneath. Her eyes followed the wave of fat, passing over her love handles before settling in her butt and thighs in a sensation that felt – Somehow – Good. Emily moaned softly, a hand cupping her burgeoning lower assets, unaware of her upper assets melting away to bolster the former.

Then, a tightness in her nether regions, an uncomfortable swelling growth that spilled over her panties and pushed itself down alongside her left leg, then rose to tent her short dress a proud 10 inches away from her. Unthinkingly, Emily adjusted her panties to make room for the new member, and as she did, a pair of fat balls plopped into her hand.

That broke the trance.

Emily panicked – This was real, this was happening, she was turning into a boy and furthermore, she was turning into a very specific boy, a boy from a Nintendo game franchise that had not gotten a new installment in over a decade. According to all known laws of reality, the cock between her legs shouldn’t exist. But it did.

Emily wanted to shout, yell for help, (as if there was anything that could help her at this point), or warn Jack - but instead the only thing that escaped her mouth was a long, languid moan. Being a boy felt good. Emily clapped a hand over her mouth, unable to believe what she’d just done – How was she getting turned on by any of this? Was this really the best time to be getting her rocks off?

The insistent throbbing of the stiffness tenting her skirt made a compelling argument that yes, in fact, now was the perfect time to be getting her rocks off. She peeled the thin cloth back.

Her proud, girthy cock looked up at her.

She looked down at her cock.

She reached out a tentative hand and gingerly stroked the head.

Electricity shot up her girth and into her other head.

She grabbed a handful of cock.

Her knees trembled.

She added another hand.

Reality briefly went wobbly.

Some rational part of her brain told her this was it. The point of no return.

That part of her brain was small, and getting smaller.

She started pumping.

Reality fell away entirely, then condensed into a single point. All that mattered was cock. Stroking cock, rubbing cock, jerking cock, anything that had to do with cock. Emily pumped and pumped and pumped, panting like an animal in heat because that was essentially what she was.

Electricity washed over her and condensed on her back in two spots, then bloomed outwards as her new wings pushed her top out of the way, spreading haphazardly across the bathroom and knocking over a few hapless shampoo bottles.

Emily bent over and braced herself against the sink as her knees went weak, finding herself needing to bend deeper to keep her hand in place as her spine and limbs lengthened, going from a comfortable 5’5” to a whopping 6’4”. Unusually tall, especially for a Pit clone - She was gonna be a big guy in more ways than one.

Emily barely noticed, of course, as she had the far more important task of getting off. She hadn’t felt like this in years, maybe ever. All she wanted to do was keep stroking indefinitely but she could feel the climax coming and was hardly about to stop it.

A powerful warmth blossomed in her core.

That warmth constricted her balls, pulled them downward.

Her head swam, any remaining thought disappeared into heat.

Personality, gender, the ability to read – All became liquid heat and trickled through her veins into her swelling balls.

She clenched as hard as she could, her cock straining against the unbelievable pressure.

The heat became unbearable.

The pressure mounted past a breaking point.

And then,

in an almighty blast,

it all

exploded

outwards.

A few minutes later, Pit came back to reality. Man, was he glad to have gotten that out of his system! Having to go a few hours without getting off was almost more than he could bear, he definitely would’ve exploded otherwise. Though of course he’d exploded regardless – He’d repainted half the bathroom white. Getting the door open was a bit of a feat, as it was stuck to the wall in boy batter. Pit made the mistake of looking up and got a fat glob of himself in his eye, and yelped, accidentally hitting his head on the doorway which he swore wasn’t that short before. Someone should definitely talk to whoever designed this building, it clearly hadn’t been made for an angel’s proportions.

The ditzy angel rubbed his head. What had he been doing before his cock got in the way? Maybe the magical glowing slate-thing on the couch could answer? Unfortunately, the artifact unhelpfully responded with silence, and a bunch of weird squiggles Pit had the distinct feeling probably weren’t important anyway. Then, from the next room, his ears perked up as he heard Jack finishing up his run, and he gasped happily, grin spreading from ear to ear.

Of course! That’s what he’d been doing before getting distracted by his dick, he was about to absolutely plow his most favorite person in the whole world – His husband!

<END OF REVISIONS, NEED TO WORK ON NEXT PART SOME TIME>

In his growth spurt, he was a bit clumsy for a while as he adjusted to his height, and his former clothing had pretty much been torn to shreds. But casual nudity was common, his boyfriend, and half the neighborhood had seen him naked, he falsely remembered, but as he crept downstairs, his horniness became too much to bear, and he began stroking his cock, only to find, that the 10” state was actually its flaccid nature. But this wasn’t a problem, after all he normally had a 2’ erection.

All the Pits on the block knew that. As his feeble brain kept thinking, he thought it was weird his boyfriend wasn’t a Pit, but he was sure there was some reason for it. As his arousal grew out of hand, once Jack was in his sight, pit swept him up off his feet, and veritably drooling and throbbing with lust speared his boyfriend without a second of delay, Jack didn’t even have a second to protest before the massive rod invaded his ass, and pounded his prostate making him moan, as Pit’s precum leaked into him, beginning to expedite his own infection, his short blonde hair turning brown, small useless wings sprouting, his ass getting bigger as his prostate enlarged and became more sensitive, causing him to moan more, unable to protest as the intelligence sapping of the infection began to take hold on Jack, now another Pit.

God this Pit loved his boyfriend. As the pair’s bodies slapped together, the smaller bottom Pit, formerly jack, shortened to be around 5’5”, and changed a bit more drastically, his belly swelled and he felt some kicks. He was Pitnant! But why wouldn’t he be? His boyfriend came inside him practically every hour, and it was only natural for him to be stuffed full of the fruits of their combined labor, he rubbed his gravid stomach, and much like last night before any of this happened to Jack and Emily, Pit uttered to Pit, “I love you!” as the pair came in unison.