Chapter Text
It bit you. You'd been bitten by skibidis before - always an unpleasant experience, but one you'd always shrugged off. It seemed you, one of the last remaining uncorrupted humans, were actually immune to skibidification.
And now, you no longer are.
Maybe the skibidi virus, or fungus, or curse, or whatever causes skibidification, has mutated enough that it now bypasses your previous immunity. Maybe your immunity was always an ablative armour, and now it's been finally chipped away and fallen into fragments. Maybe it's technology-based and the skibidi scientists have finally found a way to force a transformation without fail.
All this flies through your head in the space of less than a second, as you helplessly observe your own horrifying transformation.
…Why did you think it was horrifying?
You're finally free. You're finally yourself. This is who you were meant to be all along! This is who you want to be, this is your destiny! You turn with gratitude to your saviour, your guide, the one who helped you along your path to enlightenment. You open your mouth to thank them, and what comes out of your mouth is the music of the universe.
"No need to thank me," says your new best friend, their voice chiming with the same holy music. "I was doing nothing more than my duty."
"Let us go forth and carry on our mission together," you reply, as you and the other enlightened one speed off with joy in your porcelain hearts to find the next entity in need of your message.
Do they have any idea how liberating it is to be able to speed along the ground so fast, as though you're flying?
Do you miss being a human? No, that is the wrong question entirely. You're more human than human - you've moved onwards, upwards, to a grander plane of existence. You are human and you are divine, and you have music in your heart that you must sing, or burst! You and your new companion chant and sing in sheer exuberance as you fly along.
"Oh, there's someone we can help!" you call out. How exciting! You're going to help someone along with their own transformation for the first time.
"You should have the honour, my friend," says your comrade.
You fly onwards, singing your song - who could fail to be moved by its celestial tones? They'll surely stop and listen to what you have to say.
"Hello, mechanical one!" you greet the hardware-unit arriving on the scene. "I have a wonderful message to share with you. Will you listen? …Oh, that's a nice knife! Thank you for showing me! Oh… please be careful, friend! You almost cut me! Won't you-"
A brief red hot wet flash, and then nothing at all.