The SCP Experience - Instant Demon, Just Add Blood! | SCP-3665

Episode Date: August 3, 2022

SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-3665: Instant Demon, Just Add Blood! This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3665, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Lucas Click Check out the Author's work here: newpulptales.com 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

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Cirotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that is out, that Jared is out to get me.

Again. Nobody has told me directly, of course. High school isn't kind enough for someone to go out of their way to give me a proper hand. heads up. No one risks their own safety for the chubby geek with no friends. Even still, picking up on the whispers is easy enough, especially when you're someone who has spent

the past three years on the constant lookout for danger. Then try to keep it a secret, but there's too much excitement about the impending bloodshed. So, I sit through my last class knowing that they won't make their move until after school. My stomach tightens and knots. The teacher's words are lost in a jumble, pounding in my ears. The ticking seconds of the clock go by in a blur, when usually they creep slowly by. They say that life flies by when you're having fun. I can't attest much about having fun, but apparently it holds true for the promise of violence. The shrill scream of the last bell snaps me to my feet, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I run past the frowning teacher and out into the hallway. Even with an early start, the halls are filled with students

heading toward their lockers. They clog my passage, slowing me down, and I whisper quick apologies as I force my way through the crowd. Like a teenage Moses, the crowd parts for Jared and his two friends from the football team. Their green and white letterman jackets stand out against the crowd. Several people turn toward me, a few with looks of pity, tinged with relief

that it's not them thereafter. Most of them just smile at my misery. I spin in the opposite direction, but the masses aren't willing to part for me like they are for Jared. I tangle myself in a couple making out, and the boyfriend shoves me away without even breaking his lip-lock.

Strong fingers grip painfully around the back of my neck. I try to dart to my left, but a fist collides into my ribs and knocks the breath out of me. Where are you going, fat boy? Jared's friends, and a few onlookers laugh at his width as he drags me down the hall. Dread fills me as I recognize the old science lab, still closed for renovations. He shoves me into the dark room, and I stare at him at a loss for words. Before I can even ask, Jared's ham-hawked fist slams into my lips. Blood fills my mouth as I stumble back and his friends cackle as they join in.

Throbbing pain erupts above my eyes, and my nose bursts open as their well-rehearsed attacks find their favorite vulnerable spots. I stumbled back and collapse into the old shelves. Something heavy drops on my head and powder fills the air, making me sneeze blood. The sight makes Jared and his friends. break out into fresh laughter. It's enough to calm him down, and he squats down to look me in the eyes. Got my algebra homework back, Porker. Jared switching the A and my last name to an O has been a surefire laugh from the other bullies ever since middle school. C fucking minus. If you're going to be fat and

ugly, you've got to be at least smart. I, swallowing. I taste blood, then try again. I don't get it. sees passing, even if it's... Jared rears up and cocks his foot back. I barely have time to cover my ribs as his foot collides into my wrist. A long bellow of pain escapes my lips as I fletch my arm. Bruised, not broken. I can easily tell the difference now. Waited scores, Porker.

Jared leers at me. I can't exactly sneak your fat ass in to take the test for me, now can I? And how am I supposed to study? with all the practices the coach keeps throwing at me. If I want to stay on the field, I need perfect scores on all my other assignments to make up for the bomb tests. You got that?

Anger rises in my chest. If he's smart enough to realize that, he's smart enough to study and get a passing grade. My pride deflates even quicker. It doesn't matter. Jared would rather crack my ribs than open a book for a few minutes. I nod.

And then there's an anchor tied to a little. around my neck, refusing to let it rise to meet his predatory eyes. Excellent. You can make it up for me tonight with that history paper that's due tomorrow. What's it about? The revolution? I cringe. Reconstruction. That's it. He kneels and pats me on the cheeks. See, you are smart. Get me an A, and all this stops. Jared turns and walks away. His friends laughing along with the same comprehension that I have. never stop. Even with perfect scores, Jared will find another reason to beat on me. I wiped the blood away from my face and noticed the powder on my hands. Flinching, I wait for the burn of the unknown

chemical. My bad luck always has a way of compounding. It never comes, though. It feels like baby powder. Flipping on the light of my phone, I traced the powder back to a package. On it are the words, Instant demon, just add blood. Blinking, I picked it up and observed the horned creature on the cover. Near the powder is a small plastic vial of red liquid. Scanning over the directions, I frown. All I need to do is write my name in the powder with blood, and it'll summon a demon of my very own to do my bidding.

Coughing, I shake my head, not believing it for a moment. However, I have plenty of blood to spare thanks to Jared, and maybe it'll do some good to vent some of my pent-up frustrations. I dip the tip of my index finger into the powder and scrawl my full name across the dirty tile floor, Daniel Alvin Parker Jr. The powder fizzes and boils red, glowing in the dark. A red mist rises in the air, and I let out an unimpressed sigh. It's not so different from pouring vinegar into baking soda. Although I guess the glowing effect is a nice touch.

The smell of rotten eggs fills the air, and I gag. The mist keeps rising until it washes over me. Something cold flows over my entire body, and a loud yawn tickles against my ear. Ah, finally. Get to stretch my wings. The voice is barely more than a raspy whisper, but it's enough to propel me to my feet. I run out of the classroom faster than I've ever run before.

With the hallways now deserted, I make record time as I rush out the school doors and run home. A light chuckling fills my ears the whole way there. I don't stop running, not even when I get home. I dart past the sounds of my parents and little sister talking and the smell of mom's meatloaf. Nearly tripping over the stairs, I make it up to my room and slam the door behind me.

The familiar Star Wars posters on my wall, finally calms me down. Geez, buddy, you run for the first time in your life. And it's away from your only friend? It's that voice again from earlier. I turned towards the computer on my desk. Sitting in front of my monitor is a man. He's only three feet tall, Max,

clad in a bright Hawaiian shirt that barely covers his pot-belly and torn jeans that end in hooves. Stubby batwing sprout from his back and beneath his bright blue mohawk, are two tiny horns over his dark sunglasses. Not a man. The scream tears from my throat, as if it has a will of its own. I stumble back until I trip onto my bed.

Thunderous footsteps erupt up the stairs, then my door flings open. Dad flips on the light, his eyes washing over the room, flicking right past the demon and landing on the cuts and bruises on my face. Jesus, Danny, again? Again? That's what he's concerned about? concerned about? Not the fucking miniature hell fiend resting on my desk as if he owns it? My voice is still hoarse from screaming, so I raise a shaking finger and point at it. Dad glances over once and back to me. His frown deep with confusion.

The demon speaks up again. Before you get slapped in a straight jacket, you should know that nobody can see or hear me but you. You know, kind of like it's a wonderful life. The demon snaps his chubby fingers. Nah, like death note. Way more metal. He strums his fingers and imitates an air guitar, and a metallic riff fills the room.

Dad doesn't hear it at all, and instead pulls up my computer chair and slinks his weight down across from me. They gave it to you good again, huh? Dad says heavily. You know, if you use that bulk to your advantage, they wouldn't give you any hassle. Hit some weights.

Turn that baby fat into hardcore muscle. Dad doesn't understand what it's like to be bullied. He still has the broad figure of a former athlete. His gut only formed from excess beer in the last few years. I think he regrets giving me his name. How was he to know that he would have a son that would rather play video games than sports? As if sensing my thoughts, he rises. Right, well, wash you up and don't let your mother see.

The last thing we need is her calling the school again, right? That's one thing that we can both agree on. Mom's heart had been in the right place, but I had refused to name names. I knew that it would only make Jared and his friends more creative. We ended up with an assembly on bullying and some teachers nosing around me. Jared and his friends started confining their beatings to more discreet locations. As the door shuts, the demon hops from my desk and beats his wings.

Somehow, they keep him floating in the air as he wafts over to me. He smiles and lowers his sunglasses, revealing glowing red eyes the same color as the mist. Fuck, it says. It takes a while for me to stop stuttering. Puck? Na-na-na-na-na-foe-fuck. He grins.

That's my name. Na-na-na-na-fo-fanny. Oh, Jesus Christ, I bolt up from my bed. And the demon flinches at my choice of words. Hey now! Watch your language, motherfucker. Jared hit me hard, I say, and slide my chair back in front of the computer. I've got a concussion or something.

I'm hallucinating. Yeah, that's certainly possible, Buck says, hovering over my shoulder. I mean, it's possible. But that's not what's happening. You wrote your name in blood. You formed a pact with yours truly. I ignore him and open word on my computer. Pulling up my essay on reconstruction that I've been working on for the past week,

with a heavy sigh, I move the mouse and delete my name on the headers and footers. Each click of the keys sounds unnaturally loud as I type Jared's name in place of mine. Seriously? Puck groans, and flops loudly down on the corner of my desk. You're going to give him your essay and spend the rest of the night writing a new one? Ignoring him. I open a new blank document and start typing. The key points are still fresh in my mind, but I have to leave out the bulk of my research.

If I don't, Jared's essay will get noticed by plagiarism software. That will be a beating that includes broken bones. You know he's not going to stop, right? Of course I know. I slam my fists on the keyboard. But at least it'll give me a break. Sure, sure. Buck leans in and whispers.

But I can give you a permanent break from him. No more looking over your shoulder. No more disappointing looks from your dad. No more Jared. As much as I try to ignore the words, my hands freeze on the keyboard. Glancing over to Puck, I see his grin has only grown. But there's something off about him. His body is slowly melting, dripping bits of flesh onto my keyboard.

The bits of skin and bone go up in small puffs of red vapor. Ah, shit. Has it been two hours already? Puck grabs me by the shirt and locks his red eyes on mine. Listen, kid, you and me, we can go places. Tomorrow morning, you write my name and the powder again. I'll take care of Jared for you. Buck's flesh continues to bubble and fall away, drifting off into the same red mist he appeared in.

His glowing eyes and bright smile are the last things to fade away. I wake up early and print off both. essays. Walking through the house with the lights off before my parents are awake is like a dream. The familiar path towards school goes by as if I'm in a trance. I'm fully prepared to give Jared his essay, my essay. But Puck's offer kept me up all night, considering the possibilities. The school is vacant when I arrive, except for the skeletal crew of janitors and secretaries. My footsteps echo loudly along the hallway as I retrace my steps back to the old science room. Just enough early morning light wafts in from the windows to see the familiar destruction from yesterday.

The powder and the vial of blood still lay where they fell. Unsure of what I'm doing, I bend over to scoop up the powder when the door slams open. Jared stands at the door, glaring at me. As he stomps toward me, I pull out his essay from my backpack and hand it to him. He smacks it out of my hand, and the papers go flying. You really fucked up this time, Porker, he says, and brandishes his hand at me. It's wrapped up in tight bandages. The doctor says I broke it on your fat jaw.

Do you know how much early morning practices suck with a busted hand? Even with just one arm, the force of his shove is enough to lift me off my feet. Slamming hard onto the floor, I spin on my stomach and crawl towards the powder. Jared grabs me by my foot, but I lash out and catch him in the groin. He doubles over, and I dump out the entirety of the red liquid into the powder and scribble my name in a rush. The red mist starts to rise as I'm yanked to my feet. Jared's good fist slams into my stomach and sides, then ponds on the fresh injuries on my face. Then his nose explodes in a spray of blood as he's knocked off his feet.

Puck hovers in front of me with a smile. He's taller than last time, by at least another foot. He's still got the pot belly, but the chubby fat of his arms is now bulging with muscle. Jared raises his hand to his face and stares in shock at the blood. His surprise soon melts into a rage as he charges at me. One hoof latches out and catches Jared's knee. It jerks to the side with a sickening pop, and then he falls to the ground, screaming. Puck cackles his head.

Stairn, then shuts Jared up with a headbut. Oh, jocks. Puck smiles at me. Take away their knees, and they're just great big babies. Jared looks up, and all color drains from his face. Even though he can't see Puck, he must sense his demonic aura. He swallows and shakes his head. Hey, poor!

He bites down on his tongue. Barker, look, man, I went too far, okay? I was just having some fun and I went overboard. It's just, you don't know what it's like, man. All this pressure of being an athlete. Look, bygones are bygones, right? We'll just let it go and we'll both walk away. Buck snorts.

Do you believe any of that shit? I've heard such promises before from Jared. Never from such desperation, though. Every time that he's offered to lay off me, he always finds some new slight. He's always looking for new reasons to torment me. No. If I let him go, he'll just go through physical therapy and come at me stronger than before.

No, I shake my head. No? Jared asks and frowns. No, what? I ignore him and look at Puck. You said you can make him go away? Hey, Parker, Jared says, oblivious as Puck covers above him. Who are you talking to, man?

Puck dive bombs from the sky and lands on Jared's throat. His eyes bulges as both hooves dig into his neck. Puck grinds his feet, and Jared's hands go to his throat. He rasps, but he's incapable of speech. Laughing, Puck raises a hoof and slams it down onto Jared's head. A loud crack fills the silence room. But Puck only raises his foot and does it again. I watch as Jared's head slowly caves into itself,

and wonder what it would look like to anyone watching from the outside. To see Jared's head collapse into itself until nothing but a pulpy mess of a face remains, filling the room with blood. Good call, kid. Buck hovers and bats my shoulder. Leave the body disposal to me. You've got a paper to turn in, right? Notting.

I pick up the papers and shove them in my backpack. I rush toward the door, but then double back. I scoop up the rest of the powder into its package and shove it in my bag. Buck smarks at me and taps one side of his nose. Smart, kid. Just call me when you need me. Just keep in mind, the bigger the favor, the more blood I'll need. I'm at a loss for words and merely nod again.

I must be in shock because I'm sitting in class with no memory of how I got here. As the minutes slowly drift by, The teacher and other students fill the room. Class starts with an accurate stench in the air, and we're all soon covering our noses to stop gagging. Fire! Someone screams, and pandemonium erupts. All the rehearsed fire drills from elementary school go out the window as the alarm kicks on.

Teachers and students dash over each other as they panic for the exits. Being in a daze is the only thing that keeps me from harm. I walk at a slow pace, even a smoke, fills the air. Outside, everyone stares in shock. The fire is blazing, engulfing the school as fire trucks pull up. They work quickly, but the water only seems to strengthen the fire. Staring, my gaze falls to where the flames are the thickest. It looks like it's in the direction of the old science room. See? Puck says as he hovers down from the sky next to me. I told you I'd get rid of him. I should be shocked at the overkill. Yet,

As I stare at my place of so much torment reduced to flame and ash, a warm comfort spreads through me. A tiny smile starts at the corner of my mouth, and I cover it with a fake cough to avoid any suspicion. Puck sees it, though, and he laughs. The weeks since the school burned down have passed in a blur of bliss. Women, booze, money, whatever I ask for, Puck delivers. Of course, the syrupy fake blood from the package

no longer good enough. My whole body is lined with scars from the blood offerings I've given to my demon pal. I don't go home anymore. The last time I was there, Dad tried to confront me about school. Puck knocked his teeth out, and I walked out to the sounds of my mom and sister screaming. Since then, I've been crashing at different girlfriend's houses. My latest favorite is Trish. She lives in a trailer park on the outskirts of town, and her aunt works the late shift. I yawn and unwrapped Trish's naked body for my own. Just in case her ants in, I slide into a pair of boxers before heading into the kitchen to scrounge for something to eat. I reach for a box of cereal when the door explodes in one. Trish screams as men in black body armor

swarm the trailer. Grabbing an empty beer bottle from last night, I slam it over one's head. But the next two tackle me to the ground and put a gun to my head. They slap. cuffs on me and drag me to my feet. Somehow, they bump my head both into the trailer's doorframe and the top of the car before slamming me into the back of the cruiser. I scanned the badges for both of their names. Puck is going to visit them tonight. Rule number one, kid, a voice booms beside me. Never say nothing to the bo-bo. Puck is nearly unrecognizable after all my blood sacrifices. His massive form fills the cop car. He stands taller than me now, who ripped up. with muscle. His horns curl practically to the back of his skull, and his wings are as broad as the

car. We smile at each other, and he manages to fist bump made despite the cuffs. The cops are just as rough when we get to the station. They parade me through the halls in my underwear before shoving me into an interrogation room. I crack a couple of cops in their face before they slam me into a chair and cuff me to a table. A few minutes pass, trying to make me squirm, but me and Puck just crack jokes the whole time. Finally, two detectives come in and wheel an ancient TV and VCR. They take their time setting it up

before they finally take their seats across from me. The oldest adjusts a file before pushing his glasses up his nose. Daniel Parker Jr. You're under the arrest for the murder of Jared Moore and Arson. The laugh billows up from my chest and echoes around the room. Yeah? Good luck proving mad, asshole.

Oh shit, kid. Puck takes off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes. You shouldn't have said that. You're not as slick as you think, fat boy. The younger detective says. It took us a while to sift through the ashes, but we were able to find this. He flips on the TV and presses play. The security footage is grainy, black, and white.

But it shows Jared and me in the science room weeks ago. I smile. while waiting for the scene to unfold, to watch Jared be ripped apart by an invisible force. My jaw drops as my fist slams into Jared's nose, knocking him back. There's no sound, but his scream plays back in my memory as my foot lashes out and dislocates his knee. Jared begs for his life as I stalk toward him. I slam my foot down into his throat,

then I bring my foot down over and over onto his head. On the screen, I nod, then head toward the door. Then I double back and grab my essay. After that, I bring down several jugs of different chemicals. I pour them into a pool, coating Jared's body. Then I walk through the door, light a match, toss it inside, and walk away to class as the room goes up in a blaze. Yeah, Buck says as his body sizzles and melts away.

See, that's the thing. I don't do these things for you so much as, well, I let you unleash your inner demon. But that's hard for most people to swallow. So I had to alter your perceptions a little. He brings the sunglasses down to the rim of his nose. Did I forget to mention that? His body disappears into red mist, with his glowing eyes and bright smile fading last. SCP 3665 is a 50.

15 by 10 by 3 and a half centimeter package of a powdery substance, labeled as instant demon, just add blood, with a depiction of a stylized male and female demon with ram-like horns and bat-like wings on either side of the text. Inside the package, there is a moderate amount of dry powder of an unidentified substance, or mixture of substances, having the overall consistency of talcum powder. Also packaged is a small, plastic container of imitation blood, containing what appears to be cranberry juice, red food coloring, and a currently unidentified substance, along with instructions for use.

When instructions are followed, the powder around the area where the subject's name was written will begin to steam, and will continue to do so for roughly 20 minutes. Following this, SCP 3665-1 will appear to the individual who, out of the individual who activated SCP 3665, appearing first as a red mist, before adopting its usual demonic form. SCP 3665-1 is an entity that is only perceptible to the individual who activated SCP 3665.

Exact features such as gender, age, and ethnicity vary based on the individual. While present, SCP 3665-1 will perform. tasks that are assigned to it by the individual who activated SCP 3665. However, actions that SCP 3665-1 appears to take do not affect anything other than the subject's perception. After two hours, SCP 3665-1 will begin to disappear, described as evaporating slowly.