Humans around the globe herded to crowded supermarkets hurriedly. Each with a trolley in hand, and a mission in mind. Essentials were needed, an obvious priority was apparent to all. What are you going to be doing in an emergency such as this? Eating? Drinking water? Forget both of those, you’re going to be shitting. You’re going to need to wipe, simple as that. Starvation comes second to anal hygiene, apparently…

Casey, like many others, roamed the aisles. Her boyfriend followed close, scouring them in search of the essentials they required. Tonight was the last night before a total lockdown, COVID-19 had been all too successful in infecting the masses. 1000, 2000, 5000 cases and the number continued to rise.

You, Casey’s boyfriend, admired the synchronised rise and fall of each of her hips, the crease where her thighs met her behind, the lack of panty lines which signified she was wearing a thong. Or maybe today she was feeling the exhibitionist in her and decided none at all would be sufficient. All you knew was that you adored that thing, and you adored her.

“Come on” she called, turning back to see you metres behind as she arrived at the aisle she needed most desperately. “Avi…” she sighed, “they’ve run out. We have all these supplies and the one thing we can’t get is toilet paper! We’re on our last few rolls, we’re going to have to make do until they restock next week.”

You reply to her in your usual positive tone “I’m sure we’ll manage, we have some wipes as well so it shouldn’t be a problem”. You weren’t sure how true that was, a week with a couple of rolls was certainly going to be a challenge. Casey wasn’t exactly well known for her conservative use of toilet roll.

You both finished off your last bit of shopping and began the journey home. You had done your best to avoid people up to this point, now was the real lockdown. You and Casey would manage okay, just the two of you would be the ideal number for having both company and plenty of supplies. A single cough came tunnelling out of you. You looked at Casey and she at you. A silence thickened the air for a moment.

“Coronavirus” she said, smirking. You both laughed, a slight unease in the back of your minds about the unlikely but nevertheless possible cause of that cough. Driving, you pulled up to your front door and brought the car to a stop.

Beelining for the door, eager to relax, you both entered your home. Casey disappeared off to the bathroom. Finally home and ready to chill, you tore off your clothes and threw them at your laundry basket. A perfect shot! With equal poise you threw your body like an olympic high jumper onto the sofa, grabbed your Xbox controller and opened up Netflix.

Deep within your body; cells spewed out instructions to other cells, those cells divided and divided and divided. You coughed. Cells divided. You coughed again. You started to really consider the possibility that you were infected.

The usual instructions of the infected cells changed. A mutation had occurred within you and the coughing began to subside. You began to calm down. Your vision slowly began to fade and you fell unconscious. The universe would have it that in a fortunate twist, that you would not contract the coronavirus we all knew. A one in a billion chance saw your body getting smaller and smaller as your cells condensed. You would come to be a meagre two inches tall, around the size of a pencil sharpener. So maybe not a fortunate twist.