The SCP Experience - Giant Parasitoid Wasps | SCP-772

Episode Date: December 29, 2021

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-772: Giant Parasitoid Wasps Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-772, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to aboard Via Raille. Embarked and profite. Embarked and relaxes. Cirotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love.

From the personal journal of Merrick Dillon, entry dated, 10, 23, 2021. My first week at this research station has been interesting, to say the least. To go from graduating with an undergrad degree in biology, in the summer to heading up here above the Arctic Circle in the fall has been a whirlwind. When I first agreed to let my dad set up this paid internship for me, I had no idea how much secrecy would be involved. Case in point, I can't even write in my private journal where exactly this research station is located. They may even redact any mention of the Arctic Circle when I leave

here. I've been told I can mention the name of the organization, the SCP Foundation, the SCP Foundation, Not that anyone knows what exactly that is. I had no idea my dad worked for the foundation until I was a teenager. He never really talked about it much. Like I said, there's a lot of secrecy involved. But if I want to be an entomologist, I need to get into the habit of recording data and observations. So here we are. If they end up redacting half of this journal, so be it.

It's a good practice. I met the entomologist in charge of this station, Dr. Millard. He doesn't look like someone who studies insects for a living would look. He reminds me of my high school football coach, in his appearance anyway. His demeanor is a little different. He's brusk and seems to be a bit frazzled, like he's got a hundred things on his mind at any time. Maybe he does. He's the head honcho here after all.

Anyway, I haven't even been in to see the wasps yet. which is the whole reason I'm here. I've been watching all these safety videos about pretty much every wasp species on Earth, except the one I'm here to study. The only thing is, I can't get on the internet here. They have a local network, but it's not connected to the internet. At least, not for me. I'm sure Dr. Millard and others above my pay grade have access to the internet,

but I don't. It's pretty weird. I don't like it. Anyway, Dr. Millard says I'll get to see the wasps tomorrow. Here's the hoping. Entry dated 10, 24, 2021. Holy shit. Now I understand why they made me watch all the safety videos.

These wasps are massive and mean-looking. Oh, right. According to Dr. Millard, I can't just say wasps. I need to be more specific. These are thought to be related to Mega Rice. Macrurus, otherwise known as the long-tailed wood-boring wasp. I can see the resemblance. What's the big difference?

These wasps, SCP 772, they're called for now, are nearly two feet long, and that's not even including the ophipositors, which are these long spikes the females use to inject eggs into their hosts. Imagine a wood-boring wasp, only it's about ten times the size. And instead of laying its eggs in wood, it lays its eggs inside a living mammal. I've never seen anything like this before. This is insane. If I had any doubts about becoming an entomologist before, they're gone now.

There are three different habitats with a total of 43 of these wasps here at the station. Each habitat is pretty big, about 60 feet long, 60 feet wide, and 30 feet tall. And Dr. Millard told me why they're kept up here in the station. freezing wind-swept reaches of the middle of nowhere. It's because they don't react well to the cold. Anything under 14 degrees Fahrenheit makes them go into a kind of near-death hibernation. It makes sense to me. If these things were allowed to get out like some of the other invasive wasp species, they would cause havoc. They would kill livestock and maybe even humans. But I'm not sure on that one. I asked Dr. Millard if they ever laid eggs in a human, but he ignored the question.

I'll ask him again. Anyway, even if they don't lay eggs in humans, they would still be the worst invasive insect to ever become unleashed on the world. Dr. Millard says I'll get to see one of the females lay her eggs in a couple of days. I'll definitely report back then. Entry dated 10, 27, 2021. This facility suddenly feels like a trap. I realize that I don't actually have a way to leave here without permission.

There are snowmobiles in the standalone garage, but the keys are always under lock and key. Otherwise, the only option is to walk. And if I did that, I wouldn't make it a day before I froze to death. Maybe I'm overreacting. It was a strange day. I think I saw something I wasn't supposed to. I finished my computer work early and had a few hours to kill before my appointment in the lab with Dr. Millard.

I decided to say the hell with it and head over early to see if he needed my help. Normally, I wouldn't be able to get into the lab without having someone buzz me in, but I waited outside in the blinding snow for about five minutes to see if anyone was coming out. The living quarters and labs are separated for obvious reasons, so you have to get all bundled up to walk the 50-yard

guards between them. So just as I was about to give it up and head back to the living quarters, one of the maintenance guys came out, and I had him hold the door for me. You supposed to be here? The guy asked, stopping me from going in. Yeah, I lied. I didn't want to get into a whole big explanation about everything. I thought it was a white lie. Now, I'm not so sure. The maintenance guy, his badge said his name was Grayson, didn't believe me. He gave me a distrustful look. Okay, I said. I'm five minutes early.

You got me. Call Dr. Millard if you want. He'll tell you. It was a bluff. But what did I have to lose? I just wanted to get in and see the damn wasps. All right, Grayson said. But if you're lying, it's your ass, not mine.

I thanked him and headed into the warmth of the lab building. I took off my big coat and my hat, hanging them on the rack just inside the table. door. Then I headed deeper into the building toward the containment rooms. As I came to the first one, Dr. Millard was there, dressed in one of these crazy suits that looked like it was made out of hard plastic and metal, like a hazmat suit on steroids. But he wasn't alone. He was wheeling an older man out of the airlock chamber from the containment room, but the old guy didn't have a suit on. He sat in the wheelchair, looking like he was about to cry. He only wore.

are thin shorts, nothing else. As they came out of the airlock room, Dr. Millard saw me standing there. He started screaming at me to get out, yelling about breaking protocol. He told me to go back to my room and stay there until I heard from him. I booked it out of there quickly. I stayed in my quarters while the time of my original appointment came and went. Dr. Millard didn't call for me. Dinner was brought to me in my room instead of served in the dining room with the other staff members. When I finished dinner, I went to take my dishes back to the kitchen, but my door was locked.

I'm locked in. Now you're all caught up. I don't know what to do. Even if I could get out of my room, there's no way I could leave this place. I wouldn't even know which direction to go. I don't know what's going to happen to me. All I do know is there's only one reason for Dr. Miller to have brought a man without a suit into one of the wasp chambers to see if they will lay eggs in humans.

Entry dated 11, 3, 2021. I've been locked in my quarters for six days now. For six days, they've been bringing me my meals in here, refusing to answer any questions. Pleading, begging, crying, and even fighting back have gotten me nothing but a black eye, a broken nose, and a skipped meal. I'm afraid they're going to kill me for what I saw. What would my father do if that was the case?

Have they contacted him? Maybe they're waiting for him to come and get me. I don't know. There's no way out of this reinforced hellhole. The window in the bathroom is far too small for me to fit through. Plus, it's covered in mesh wiring on the outside, just like the large window in my bedroom. The quarters were designed to keep things out,

but that means they do a damn good job of keeping things in too. I don't know what to do. I'm scared. Entry dated 11, 4, 2021. An alarm started going off an hour ago. The noise jerked me awake from my nap on my bunk. I don't know what exactly happened, but I can take a good guess. About 10 minutes after the alarm first started,

the old guy that I saw with Dr. Millard, the one coming out of the one coming out of the alarm first started, of the containment chamber in a wheelchair, opened the door to my room. You know how to drive a snowmobile? He asked, throwing me a set of keys. He wore gray, sweatpants and a sweatshirt of the same color. Both garments, along with his face, were splashed with blood. He held a bloody axe in his left hand, gripping the handle gently under the axe head.

Seeing him there like that, he didn't look so old anymore. He looked tired, sure, and he's likely in his late 50s. but he didn't look so old as when I'd first seen him. Well, kid, he asked, taking me out of my head. Yeah, yes, I said, swallowing hard between words. Good, get the fuck out of here, don't dawdle. You stay here, you die. Got a compass?

No, I said. Here, the old guy said, reaching into a sweatpants pocket and bringing out a small black compass. Half a day's ride southeast will get you to a little. town. You'll be fine from there. Call your people. He threw the compass to me just as he had the keys. I caught it. What about you? Listen, the only reason you're still alive is because I know you didn't have any part in what they did to me. That's it. So you'd best get back to wherever you come from and never tell a soul about what you saw here. Just because these sickos are dead, doesn't mean the foundation won't come after you. What did they do? I asked, even though I all

already knew the answer. The guy stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. He lifted up the bottom of his blood-stained sweatshirt and pointed to a small red scar, about an inch long, next to his belly button. They're inside me. I watched, drugged, as one of those things landed on me and put eggs inside me. Now, I don't know when exactly they'll come out, but I can tell you, I don't want to be alive when it happens, and you don't want to be around when it does either. So get gone, kid, now. The guy opened the door again and stepped out of my quarters. By the time I got my warm clothes and boots on, it was nowhere to be seen. I tried not to look at the bodies in the living quarters. He'd killed them all, every last

one of them, with that axe of his. I ran to the garage through the snow as fast as I could. I saw no one on the way. I got the main door open and drove the snowmobile out. I'd been riding fast for no more than two or three minutes when an explosion boomed from the horizon behind me. The flames raged toward the sky briefly and then disappeared into billowing black smoke. I wondered if the old man was in there when he blew the place up. I bet he was. I'm stopped for the night. The days are short in this part of the world right now.

If I survive the frigid night, I'll be home free. If I don't, then maybe someone will find this journal. They may not believe what's in it, but it's the truth. I wish it wasn't, but it is the truth. Journal recovered on December 15th, 2021. A search and rescue team found it in the possession of a deceased male, believed to have died of exposure during the night after the last entry. SCP-772 is a wasp of unknown species,

superficially resembling members of the mega-rysogenus, A mature adult is typically 60 centimeters in length, from head to abdomen, excluding antennae and ovipositor. The barbed avipositor, reaching a length of up to 70 centimeters, is used to penetrate its host and deposit anywhere from 5 to 20 eggs. SCP 772 is meticulous and almost surgical during oviposition. It makes an incision no longer than 3 centimeters, and the host is paralyzed and or comatose for several hours until the wound can heal sufficiently. Injected along with the eggs is a polydena

virus uniquely adapted to suppress the immune system of mammals. SCP 772 eggs have an incubation period of four to 12 days, and the length of the incubation period is speculated to share an inversely proportional relationship with levels of host stress hormone. Upon hatching, SEP 772 larva begin their consumption of host tissue, gradually working their way into the depths of the host's body. Lazzangue sur-gillet, puissance-moyerned for 15 minutes. We're saying that's their dojo.

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