Kissing the Coronavirus (Kissing the Coronavirus Chronicles Book 1)

by M. J. Edwards

  Kissing the Coronavirus

  M.J. Edwards

  Viralerotica

  Kissing the Coronavirus

  She was supposed to cure the Coronavirus.

  Instead… she fell in love with it.

  Dr Alexa Ashingtonford stared at the test tube between her fingers, her perfectly pink manicured nails clashing with the pale, bubbling liquid inside. She recognised the power she had in her grip, the virus which had claimed so many lives and which made her heart beat furiously, like a wild tiger thrashing in its cage.

  The Coronavirus.

  Despite the devastation the virus was causing across the globe, Alexa felt a rush of excitement every time she picked up the Corona sample, like a pulsating, erect penis, desperate to unleash its devastation on anyone who touched it.

  It had been so long since Alexa had been with a man that the virus was the only thing she could get near to which gave her any sort of thrill. The tickle in her knickers when she worked with the sample was the only sexual release she had experienced since the virus had unleashed hell and taken its hold on the world.

  And now she held it in her hand. Gripped it tight.

  She bit her lip.

  Imagine what she could do with it.

  She rubbed her hand over her breast, her nipple hardening like a tic tac.

  Imagine how she would feel if she touched herself with it.

  Pretty great, Alexa thought. Pretty great, indeedily.

  Alexa lowered the test tube and unbuttoned the bottom two poppers on her lab coat.

  Pop. Pop.

  She took the test tube and shook it. The bubbling, creamy liquid sloshed against the inside of the tube. It fizzed up and Alexa swore she could feel the glass expanding. Swelling up and down as she shook the tube.

  A shock of electricity coursed through her veins, eventually stopping as it reached her vagina. It was like she’d sat on a battery. Everything tingled and it felt good.

  But Alexa knew it could feel better.

  Much better.

  Alexa pulled down her lab pants and pulled her panties to the side, her pussy so wet that the lace glided across her skin like a fat man on a water slide.

  She lowered the test tube.

  As the COVID-19 sample got closer to her, she felt the rush. An intense burst from within, like an entire firework display going off at once.

  She twisted the test tube in her grip, ready to push it inside. She’d done this with so many men who didn’t know how to control their own flailing cocks, like they’d had minds of their own and required guidance.

  Alexa tightened her grip on the tube. She imagined it had veins pumping blood to keep it hard for her. She thought about the power.

  She touched the test tube to her wet lips—

  ’Dr Ashingtonford, would you mind cataloguing these new test samples?’

  Shit.

  Alexa hadn’t realised that her boss, Dr Gurtlychund, had walked back into the lab. Thankfully, her back had been to the door, or else Dr Gurtlychund would have seen everything.

  And that… kind of gave Alexa a little rush, too.

  Not that she liked Dr Gurtlychund; he wasn’t the sort of guy she usually went after. She liked big, muscular men who looked like Greek statues, except with huge cocks rather than small ones. Dr Gurtlychund was small and had a funny moustache, but after having been stuck in a lab with him for so long, so deprived of the feeling of a hot man-dog inside her lubricated pussy-bun, she had even considered asking him if he’d be interested in a quick bit of sex to help her get over her infatuation so she could get on with searching for a cure.

  Because that’s what they were there for. Not for lust-induced sessions with the cause of the pandemic. They were there for the cure, and they were determined never to leave the lab until it had been found.

  However, Alexa still held a grudge against Dr Gurtlychund. She still thought about hate-fucking him, sure, but her pride was more important than a bit of slap and tickle. She knew the vaccine they were waiting to trial on human patients needed just a little more COVID-19 in order for the body to properly built up the necessary antibodies.

  But would Dr Gurtlychund listen?

  No. He would not.

  When the Coronavirus had first taken hold of the people of Wuhan, Dr Gurtlychund, one of Ohio’s top biochemical-neuroviral-epidemiologists, had asked a core team of doctors to lead a task force to find the cure. There had been four of them at the start: Dr Gurtlychund, Dr Ashingtonford, Dr J, and Dr Wobbul. Then, slowly, the virus had spread across the globe. Asia. Europe. Some other places. But most importantly and worryingly, America.

  Then, even more slowly, the virus began to infect the lab. First to succumb was Dr J. Then Dr Wobbul. That was it.

  And so, Dr Gurtlychund became more determined. So determined, in fact, that he had stopped listening to reason, and because Alexa had huge boobies, a thicc ass and nice legs, he would sometimes overlook her. Alexa admired him so much, but lately his attitude had gotten in the way of her fantasies. He was definitely marriage material, but he just wasn’t what she wanted appearance-wise. She couldn’t get over that moustache. She loved beards, and a moustache was only the start of a beard, like micropenises are just the start of real penises. You need the rest of it for it to be truly meaningful.

  And now with his new, bad attitude...

  ‘Dr Ashingtonford, did you hear me?’ said Dr Gurtlychund. ‘You’ve been standing there not responding to me for three and a half minutes.’

  Alexa placed the sample back on her workbench and calmly refastened the buttons on her lab coat.

  Pop. Pop.

  ‘Yes, I heard you Dr Gurtlychund,’ said Alexa, turning to face him.

  ‘I’ve told you, call me Bob,’ he said. ‘We practically spend all day and night here; we may as well be friendly.’

  ‘Yes Dr Gurt—Bob.’

  He smiled and his moustache curled upward, accentuating the beardlessness of his face. If only he had a beard. And was taller and had a big cock and was handsome and made her wet.

  Like COVID-19.

  ‘So, if you catalogue these new samples, and the data aligns with what we already have, we might just be ready to trial the cure,’ said Dr Gurtlychund.

  Alexa nodded. She had been working with Dr Gurtlychund and the others (before they died) on the cure for the virus for weeks; and now — finally — there was a slim chance that they may have found the cure.

  And Alexa would finally know what it felt like to grasp a cock in her hands again.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said proudly.

  Dr Gurtlychund nodded and left.

  Alexa didn’t waste any time. She tore open the box of samples and began running them on the samplometer. Each sample came up positive and each matched up with the results they had previously obtained from other samples they had sampled.

  This was great news.

  But Alexa knew she had to replicate the results against the original sample. Any excuse to hold that powerful beast in her hands once again — she didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Alexa took the creamy, bubbling COVID-19 sample from the workbench, holding it close to her quivering breasts as she returned to the samplometer. She ran the sample and it came out exactly as she had hoped.

  This was perfect. It meant they’d be able to run the trials for the cure.

  Unless…

  Alexa flounced across the lab, her blonde hair wafting lavishly, to Dr Gurtlychund’s workstation. She opened the cabinet containing the trial vaccines and took out a test tube containing a bright blue liquid. The c
ure.

  She knew there wasn’t enough COVID-19.

  She just knew it.

  So… if the trials were about to begin, she knew what she’d have to do.

  And she decided, because she knew it, that she’d have to take action.

  Alexa opened the test tube filled with the trial vaccine—

  Pop.

  She opened the tube filled with the Coronavirus sample—

  Pop.

  Alexa stared at it. The creamy liquid bubbled and popped like a fresh bowl of Rice Krispies.

  Snap, crackle, pop.

  Even the sound of the virus made her ovaries clash together like cymbals.

  It was so powerful.

  So strong.

  So… deadly.

  Which was why it had to be stopped.

  Slowly, slowly, slowly, Alexa raised the sample of COVID-19 so the virus neared the edge of the test tube. She only needed to add a drop. She was one of the best scientists around, so was confident a drop would be all it would take to make the vaccine perfect.

  Just… one… drop…

  Plop.

  There. Alexa had done it. She replaced the lids on each test tube, and returned the vaccine to the cabinet. Dr Gurtlychund would never need to know Alexa had made the changes. They’d run the trial by the medical council, get approval, then in a few months they’d administer the vaccine to test subjects around the country and monitor how they reacted. Once the trials were a success — which of course they would be — they’d use the original vaccine to create more and more and more to use across the world.

  It would be a waiting game, but Alexa knew it would be worth it.

  After thirty minutes, Dr Gurtlychund returned to the lab carrying boxes of medical supplies. His face was red and his eyes sunken, like he was desperate for sleep.

  But they couldn’t sleep. They had lives to save.

  ‘How were the new samples?’ he asked.

  Alexa couldn’t hide her smile. ‘All perfect.’

  Dr Gurtlychund’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then… we can do it. We can start the trial.’

  Alexa smiled. ‘Yeah. I’ll write the letter to the medical council—’

  ‘No,’ said Dr Gurtlychund. ‘We’re skipping approval from the medical council.’

  Alexa’s heart fluttered like it had done the time she’d fucked the farmer’s cross-eyed son and uncrossed his eyes.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  Dr Gurtlychund dropped the boxes and marched over to the vaccine cabinet. He threw open the door and grabbed the vaccine.

  The very same vaccine Alexa had added an extra drop of COVID-19 to.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.

  Alexa gasped. ‘Doctor, no—’

  ‘Alexa, please — call me Bob.’

  Alexa gasped. ‘Bob, no—’

  ‘Yes, Alexa,’ he said sternly. He took a syringe out from his lab pocket and popped off the lid of the test tube.

  Pop.

  —then Dr Gurtlychund dipped the needle into the vaccine and drew the blue liquid up into the liquid-holding part of the syringe.

  ‘Bob, you can’t,’ said Alexa, grabbing his bicep. It was so small. So weak.

  ‘Alexa, I can,’ he said. ‘And I will. I have to.’

  ‘You might die.’

  ‘Better me than some helpless children.’

  Dr Gurtlychund rolled up the sleeve of his arm.

  ‘I have to do this. Alexa, I didn’t tell you this before, but… I have the Coronavirus.’

  Alexa gasped again, then covered her mouth as she realised she and Dr Gurtlychund were not practising social distancing etiquette.

  ‘So, this is my only option,’ he said proudly. ‘Dr Ashingtonford, if the trial doesn’t work… it has been an honour working with you.’

  Alexa nodded and stepped back two metres.

  Then… Dr Gurtlychund plunged the syringe into his arm, and the blue liquid disappeared into his veins.

  There was a moment of silence.

  Alexa had never seen Dr Gurtlychund in this way before. So brave. So selfless.

  Maybe she had misjudged him.

  Maybe.

  Maybe…

  He fell to the floor.

  ‘DOCTOR!’ exclaimed Alexa with panic-driven fear.

  ‘NO,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t come any closer… I have it under control…’

  For some reason the lights flashed. Wind whipped around the lab, lashing Alexa’s hair back and forth and shaking her ample breasts. There was lots of sound and shaking and Alexa’s heart hammered harder than the time she was hammered by the carpet fitter when he came to fit carpets in her country manor.

  Alexa edged back, pushing back until her back pushed back against the wall.

  Dr Gurtlychund screamed. He clutched his chest. He crawled around the back of his workspace as the wind whipped up and the lights flashed again.

  Then…

  Silence.

  The wind settled and Alexa’s hair fell perfectly against her shoulders.

  ‘Dr Gurtlychund?’ she breathed.

  Nothing.

  ‘Umm… Bob?’

  ‘Who is… Bob?’ came a voice.

  Alexa blinked. Who… what?

  ‘Bob?’ uttered Alexa. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know no Bob…’

  A hand clamped down on the workspace. It looked like a normal hand, except… it was green.

  ‘Dr Gurtlychund, what’s happened to your hand?’ wailed Alexa.

  ‘I don’t know WHO THAT IS,’ came a bellowing bellow which rattled the beakers and tinkled the tubes around the lab.

  Alexa stepped away from the wall, her heart ravaging the inside of her chest. She took tiny steps towards Dr Gurtlychund, her breaths short and sharp.

  A second hand slammed down on the surface and Alexa squealed.

  It, too… was green.

  There was a low groan, almost like a growl, which deepened and became a roar. A guttural, animalistic roar. So strong and powerful it made Alexa’s clitoris judder with anticipation.

  Then, one detail at a time, Dr Gurtlychund stood from behind the workspace to reveal himself.

  His strong brow.

  Piercing blue eyes.

  Supple lips.

  A wide jaw, like the trunk of a car.

  Bulky, thick shoulders.

  A flat stomach.

  A bulge in his trousers the size of a medium-length python.

  Legs.

  And presumably feet, but Alexa couldn’t see those behind the desk.

  His body had grown so much his lab uniform had torn. His thighs had obliterated his pants, muscle poking out like a cheeky kitten. His pectoral muscles were so large and toned they practically hummed. The tip of his penis winked out above his belt line, and Alexa was positive he wasn’t even erect. She couldn’t stop staring.

  And it was… green.

  In fact, all of him was… green.

  And he was covered in small, green bumps, which sciencey people like Alexa called spike proteins.

  Wait… if he had spike proteins protruding from his body, wouldn’t that mean he was…

  No.

  No.

  It couldn't possibly be.

  No.

  But it could just be…

  ‘Dr Gurtlychund?’ asked Alexa. ‘Is that you?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Are you in there, Dr Gurtlychund? Bob?’

  ‘No,’ said the enormous green man. He was at least a metre taller than Dr Gurtlychund had been, and almost twice as wide.

  ‘Then… who are you?’ asked Alexa.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you know who you are?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said.

  ‘Or should I ask… what you are?’

  He nodded, his bustling neck muscles contorting.

  ‘Are you… the virus?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.


  ‘You’re Coronavirus? COVID-19?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What happened to Dr Gurtlychund?’

  ‘I consumed him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The injection… the vaccine trial…’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He had the virus. There were traces of the virus in the vaccine… vast traces… adding them together created more virus than a man could handle… I’m the result.’

  ‘You are COVID-19?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He had a sad expression.

  Alexa wasn’t sure what she felt.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It wasn’t anguish.

  It was intrigue.

  Perhaps a little excitement.

  He stepped forward.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ exclaimed Alexa, even though she secretly wanted him to get closer. Much closer.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said softly. ‘I can sense that you’re immune.’

  ‘Immune to the virus?’ she asked. ‘To… you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You’re asymptomatic. You had the virus without even knowing.’

  ‘Does that mean Dr Gurtlychund was infected because of me?’

  He nodded.

  A single tear trickled down Alexa’s rosy red cheek and she closed her eyes.

  This was her fault…

  Suddenly a strong chonk of a finger rubbed across Alexa’s cheek.

  The virus had wiped it away for her.

  He had been strong, but soft. Assertive, yet caring.

  Alexa’s clitoris floundered.

  She shouldn’t be feeling this way.

  She should be frightened. Terrified.

  But she didn’t feel any of that.

  The virus opened his hand and Alexa nestled her cheek into it. It was like laying on a warm, welcoming pillow. Soft and strong. Dreamy and happy. Some other nice things she couldn’t even describe.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dr Gurtlychund,’ she whispered.

  ‘He’s gone,’ said the virus. ‘I’m here now.’

  She nodded and shuffled towards him. He opened up his body, allowing Alexa to be engulfed in his skin and muscles. She felt his convulsing member against her waist. It was so long and warm and fat, like an arm without the bones. She wondered what it would look like when erect.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.