The SCP Experience - Cozy Up and Die | SCP-799

Episode Date: September 30, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-799: Cozy Up and Die This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-799, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The resonant crash from outside our cell actually shakes the floor. I stand near the door in my orange jumpsuit. My body tense. What the heck is that? Charlie says from behind me. He's sitting on. on the bottom bunk in the cramped concrete cell. It's okay, I say without turning.

It'll be okay. Charlie shouldn't be here. I mean, none of us should be here. The experiments they do on us are barbaric. Some of them are downright cruel. I've seen a guy's neck snapped by a killer statue. I've seen a woman bit in half by a giant, talking lizard. I've even seen Bigfoot break a man's legs with a single hand.

No, none of us should be here, but we are. Charlie, though, he's another story. He's helpless, the most gentle person I've ever met. No way he did what they said he did. And if he did, it was an of-mice-and-men situation. He's a pretty big guy, bigger than me. but he seldom uses his strength. He's got reddish-brown hair, a freckled face, and broad shoulders.

He's still young in his late 20s. Another rumbling crash comes from outside the cell. It's getting closer. The door is made of solid metal. There's no window, no way to see out. I back up. When the noise first started, I heard men and women shouting. I heard footsteps outside and some screams.

Now, there's just the occasional shaking bang. What is it, Logan? Charlie asks again. I look at him, seeing that he's digging the fingernails of his right hand into the back of his left. He does that when he's scared. It's okay, Chuck. Something smashes into the door from the outside. I jump back to the rear of the cell, and Charlie jumps up from the bed,

crowding behind me like a scared child. The neglected hinges squeak as the door sags open a few inches. Strangely, it's not bent. Maybe the hit disengaged the electronic lock. A muffled growl of thunder sounds from behind me. It's been storming for a couple of hours, if the thunder is any indication. Whatever banged into the door seems to be gone, but I'm not sure. I edge closer to the metal portal, but Charlie grabs a handful of my jumpsuit from behind.

There's no way I can pull away from him, not with his strength. shifts in the hall, a shadow. The door moves, pushed slowly from the other side. I brace myself, hoping it's not one of the more deadly SCPs. Maybe, just maybe, I can fight it off for long enough for Charlie to escape. We've been through a lot together, me and him. He's a good soul, unlike me. The opening door reveals a familiar face, a human face. I sigh in relief. Well, Mason whispers. What's you waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here.

The words don't compute, not at first. We've only known Mason for a couple of weeks. He's a recent transfer. He's kind of brash, but he seems okay. He's got jet black hair cut short and gray eyes set in a rugged face. Come on, he says, looking up and down the hallway while gesturing us out with a hand.

Charlie relaxes his grip on my jumpsuit, allowing me to turn and look up into his face. You want to go? Charlie nods, sad, green eyes full of fear. Stay close. As we move out into the hall, I glance at the door. There's a small divot in the metal where something hit it, but there's no other damage.

The hallway itself is a different story. Some of the lights are flickering. There are several bloody bodies lying on the smooth concrete floor. I count three in orange jumpsuits, and two in SCP security officer uniforms. Most of the cell doors are still closed, but a couple hang open, including Mason's. What happened to Elias? I ask him.

That's his cellmate. Mason shakes his head. Didn't make it. That thing got him. What thing? What is it? Mason shushes me and looks around. Did you hear that? I didn't hear anything, I tell him. He looks up and down the hallway.

Then he moves, gesturing, for us to follow. We go to the end of the D-Class wing and find the security station door open. Following Mason, we head back into the faculty area, seeing occasional signs of destruction. There's an exterior door, which is also open. It's nighttime, but I can see the rain falling in sheets just outside the doorway. I feel a frigid breeze blowing inside the building. I look over at Charlie, whose frightened eyes are fixed on that open door. We follow Mason out into the icy rain. The double fence enclosing the facility has been broken by something. We have no problem moving through the gap in the chain link. Soon enough, we're huffing and puffing in the woods,

soaked to the bone. I don't know about Mason and Charlie, but I'm shivering. Soon, my teeth will start chattering. As we keep moving, still following Mason, I start to think I've traded an eventual death by some crazy SCP monster for a much sooner death. from hypothermia. But I keep going anyway. No turning back now. We're picking our way through some tough underbrush when I trip on a route and go down hard. As I turn to look at my foot, I glimpse something in the woods behind us, something up in the trees maybe. It's just a flash of movement, a small, dark shape that moves behind a tree as I look that way. You okay, Logan? Charlie says, gripping me under the arms and lifting me like I weigh as much as a small child.

I'm fine, I say, still staring at the spot high in the barren trees where I glanced movement. I don't want to scare Charlie any more than he already is, so I say nothing. But I'm pretty sure we're being followed. Mason has stopped, and he waits until we catch up to continue leading the way. I move up next to him so we can talk without Charlie hearing. Where are we going? Mason shrugs. Anywhere but back there. That place fucking sucks, man. and I've been to San Quentin, so that's saying something.

I glanced behind me at Charlie. Then I whispered a Mason. Mason's eyes bore into me. What do you mean? What'd you see? I don't know what it was, but I saw something high up in the trees, something small. It wasn't much more than a dark shape against the night. Ah, shit, man, Mason says.

You had me scared. What I saw back in the prison was something big and nasty and gruesome. Not something small. I wouldn't worry about it. I shake my head, blinking rain out of my eyes. You haven't been here as long as I have. It doesn't matter how big or small an SEB is. They can be deadly no matter what.

Mason stops walking and turns around to look. Charlie stops and looks backward too, following Mason's gaze. Look, I'm just warning you, okay? I whispered to him, turning him back around to face forward. But I don't want to worry Charlie. We keep walking. Fine, Mason says. If something comes after us, we'll deal with it then.

How's that sound? Not much else we can do, I say. After walking for several more minutes, Mason stops and points ahead. Holy shit, he says. Look at that. I look where he's pointing, spotting a small, squat cabin in a clearing some hundred yards away. What do you say, boys? Want to get warm and wait out.

the rain? I nod. I don't see we have much of a choice. I can feel my toes going numb with the cold. We get inside the cabin with ease after finding an unlocked window. Mason climbs in and unlocks the door for us. Just getting out of the rain makes me feel much better. And pretty soon, we've got some candles lit and I'm working on starting a fire in the fireplace. Thankfully, there's a stack of dry wood right next to the chimney. Mason disappears into one of the back rooms with a candle. He returns moments later with a stack of blankets. Check this out, he says with a smile.

Charlie, who's sitting on a threadbare couch with groaning springs, accepts one of the blankets. But before he can wrap it around himself, I tell him to take his jumpsuit off. He seems embarrassed to be in his underwear, but he does it anyway, handing me his jumpsuit so I can set it to dry by the, fire. He wraps the blanket around him and sits back on the couch. After setting a blanket on the

couch for me, Mason sits in a rocking chair nearby, wrapped in a quilt. I wonder why he doesn't take his jumpsuit off, but I don't say anything. He knows what he's doing. If he wants to sit in wet clothes and get hypothermia, that's up to him. Once I have the fire going, I look over my shoulder at Charlie. He slumped on the couch, his head leaning back. Eyes closed. The blue and white blanket wrapped around him looks warm. I look over at Mason, who's still wide awake. He seems to be studying me.

Something is nagging at my mind, but I can't quite place it. Something about the dark shape in the woods. It's familiar, but I don't know how or why. It's there, just out of reach. For some reason, I feel like we're still in danger. My subconscious is trying to tell me something. You want this blanket? Mason says, reaching over from the rocking chair to grab the third blanket.

I look at him for a long moment. Alarm bells are going off in my head. Why? Is Mason a threat? No, I tell him. I'm going to let the fire do its thing for a minute. Truth is, I'm still cold. But the fire is helping.

It's warming me up and drying my orange jumps. all at once. Besides, I'm not ready to let my guard down yet. And I know if I get warm and comfortable, it'll be too easy to do just that. After a moment, I stand up and grab one of the lit candles from the mantle, Mason staring at Charlie, but he looks at me quickly, almost guiltily. I look at my cellmate. If he's not asleep yet, he will be soon. Taking the candle, I move out of the main room and back into the bedroom, where Mason found the blankets. I listened hard for any movement from out in the main room. I realize I don't know Mason well at all.

Not really. Glancing around the wood-paneled room, I look for something. What? I don't know. I'm just following my instincts. There's a dusty, unmade bed, the mattress sagging and stained. There's a closet with no clothes in it. Although there is a pillow and a set of sheets at the room.

bottom, both covered with dust. There's a barren space on the closet shelf, a gap in the dust about the size of a folded blanket. The three of them must have been stacked on each other. The alarm bells in my head get louder. Dust. There's dust everywhere. But I didn't see any on the blankets, did I?

No. When he brought them out, even the top one was perfectly clean, like it had been washed just yesterday. I have no idea what it means, but it's not good. The faint sound of squeaky springs comes from the living room. I rush out of the bedroom to find Charlie convulsing on the couch. His eyelid fluttering, blood bubbling up between the blanket and his bare chest. Mason watches with wide, cruel eyes. I shout and jump toward my cellmate, trying to rip the blanket off him.

It doesn't budge. If anything, it gets tighter, coiling like a python around his body. Changing tactics, I dig my fingers between Charlie's body and the blanket. Despite the blood, I managed to get a decent grip, ganking about two feet of material away from him. The skin of his chest is a gory mess of exposed bone and muscle. On the underside of the blanket is a gaping mouth with layers of teeth, looking as though it was sewn right into the blanket.

The hook-like teeth are all stained with Charlie's blood. I shout, trying to pull the rest of the blanket off. But before I can make much progress, Mason hits me in the head with something. It's only when I hit the wood floor that I look up and realize it was a piece of firewood. The blanket is back around Charlie, the mouth chewing and eating him. I try to get up, but my motor functions are momentarily out of commission. Mason steps up and puts a foot on my chest, shoving me all the way down. Why didn't you just wear the blanket? he asks, shaking his head.

Suddenly, the nagging thoughts and the alarm bells in my head became clear. Whether it's because of the blow to the head or the apparent betrayal, I'm not sure. Regardless, I realized that the thing I saw in the woods was a drone, a camera, following us through the woods. The whole thing in the D-Class Cell Block was a drama, a carefully orchestrated series of events that would lead us here, to these blankets. It's another of their goddamn experiments. They knew if they just put us in a cell with these blankets, we would know something was up. Maybe they only do their thing when you think they're regular blankets. Or maybe the SCP Foundation just needed to perform the experiment in their natural environment.

My eyes traverse the ceiling. Although I don't see them, I'm sure there are cameras hidden everywhere covering all angles. Mason, he's one of them. An undercover agent or scientist, he led us here. It all makes sense now. All the damage to the facility was minor. The biggest thing they'd have to fix his defense, and that would be easy. As if to affirm my thoughts, Mason steps back, taking his foot off my chest. He tosses the piece of firewood down and grabs the third blanket from the couch, letting

it fall open. I try to stand, but he's back over me before I can even sit up. I don't see a mouth in the blanket, but that doesn't mean anything. I've seen enough SCPs to know that they work in mysterious ways. Might as well see how this works, Mason says. He drapes the blanket over me as though he's a caring father tucking in his child. I throw the blanket off and turn over to crawl away, but it's no use. Mason cracks me on the head again with a piece of wood.

My vision goes black as my face hits the floor. And before I lose consciousness, I feel the comforting warmth of the blanket enshroud me. Members of SCP 799 vary in size, shape, and superficial appearance, but always retain the appearance of a knit or woven item of bedding made from an unfamiliar but very soft natural fiber. The blankets retain heat unusually well. Their coloration and markings are highly variable, but tend strongly towards pastel hues. Instances of SCP 799 are usually torpid and incapable of movement, requiring low. little nutrition. What they do need, they draw from the organic detritus present in household dust.

One specimen is believed to have survived for years, stored in a damp, ill-maintained attic, living on heat from the house below and detritus from the wooden rafters above. If forced to survive for long periods without sufficient nutrition, SCP 799 is capable of metamorphosing into a predatory form. The result in structural changes are invisible to the casual observer. They consist of modifications to the digestive tract and feeding orifices. The latter shift from minute, dispersed filter feeding mouths into a single large mouth, lined with hook-like teeth. The organism also develops contractile tissue similar to animal muscle. Once this metamorphosis is complete, the SCP-799 individual waits for a large animal

to wrap up in it and fall asleep or become otherwise inactive before opening its mouth, tearing off a few kilograms of biomass and consuming it. The biomass is apparently reduced to a thin slurry almost immediately, as even seconds after feeding there is no visible bulge in the blanket. The mouth is completely resorbed 10 minutes after feeding. At this point, no evidence of the blanket's nature is available, except by X-ray or by observing the sudden increase in mass. By 40 minutes after feeding, the entire The entire carnivorous digestive system is resorbed and the organism returns to the filter feeding phase.