The SCP Experience - Invasion of the Fungus Cult | SCP-1627

Episode Date: June 20, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1627: Invasion of the Fungus Cult This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1627, 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. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Let's talk groceries, specifically your groceries. With Instacart, you want your groceries just the way you like them, right? Well, the Instacart app lets you do just that. They have a new preference picker that lets you pick how ripe or unripe you want your bananas. Shoppers can see your preferences up front, helping guide their choices. Instacart, get groceries just how you like. After the ringing and the knocking, I stumbled downstairs and opened the door to find Amy standing there with an excited look on her face.

What is it? I ask. I was sleeping. She rolls her eyes. You sleep more than anyone I know. Come on! There's something happening down at the square. Half the town is there. I'm a teenager.

That's what teenagers do. Eat and sleep. And I'd rather go back to bed than attend some lame town hall meeting. Amy stomps her foot in frustration. I like frustrating her. She's cute. when she's flustered.

I don't think it's going to be lame, Thomas. Some very weird people came out of the woods and started talking about weird cult stuff. So put your shoes on and let's go. I don't want to miss any more of the weird cult stuff they're going to talk about. Whoa, you're using my full name like my mother? This must be serious, I say,

reaching down to grab my shoes from the rack by the door. Speaking of which, Amy says, your mother and father are there. Of course they are. They're the nosiest people I've ever known. I pull on my shoes and shut the door behind me. Amy grabs my hand and starts pulling me up the street toward the center of our small Tennessee mountain town. It's a nice summer day, so my basketball shorts and t-shirt are just about perfect. I'm a teenager, Amy says as we hurry.

Uh, yeah, I know. Did you think I didn't know I was dating a teenager? I mean, it would be weird if you weren't one. No, dummy. I mean, I'm a teenager, but you don't see me sleeping all day. Oh, I see. Well, maybe I should have specified my gender. Teenage boys eat and sleep all day. It's the way of the world.

Amy nods at that, as if she's happy she's no longer lumped in with teenage boys. I smile at her, thinking about how lucky I am. Then we're turning a corner. and I see the crowd gathered at the small park in the town square. I hear an unfamiliar voice coming out in evangelical tones, but he's not talking about God, at least not the God that folks around here know in love. This is the evolution of humankind. The voice proclaims.

And you're all invited to join. We press into the crowd, seeking a place near the front where we can see. I glance around, recognizing pretty much every face. Aside from those of the people dressed in strange robes, arrayed around the upraised statue of the town founder, some long dead guy named Theodore Brown. I yank on Amy's hand, getting her attention, and then point over to my mom and dad.

She nods, and we move over toward them. They see us coming. Wow, you're out of bed early, my dad says. Before noon. Impressive. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I say. What did we miss? Not much, my dad says.

Some stuff about healing all sickness. The next stage in evolution. Oh, and something about fungus. Fungus? Amy says. Yeah, pretty normal stuff. He says, making my mom chuckle. I turn my attention forward as the cult speaker seems to be wrapping up his monologue.

Now we shall all show you a demonstration, he says. There are about 15 of them, wearing gray pull-up. over robes. Most of them stand back, hands clasped in front of them. But three of the cultists step forward to join the speaker. One of them, a man, has a canvas backpack, which he sets down in front of him and then opens. He pulls out a small hunting knife and hands it to the speaker. A few people in the crowd murmur at the sight of the weapon, but I already know that many of the townspeople are carrying guns. It's a normal thing in this part of the country to see people with pistols on their hips or rifles on racks in their trucks. Next, he pulls out a couple

of mushrooms, which he holds one in each hand. The stems are solid white and the caps are red, interspersed with little white spots. The speaker walks over to one of the volunteers, a woman, and says, This is Jen. She is ready to demonstrate the power of the fungus. You will see that we are not false prophets. Jen nods and holds up her left arm, pulling the baggy robe sleeve up to expose her forearm. The speaker steps over to her and slices her arm open with the knife. The crowd reacts in shock to this. Women gasp and men grumble. What the hell is this, mister?

Sheriff Jenkins says from the crowd. If you're planning on killing someone in front of us, you better think twice. Jen steps forward. It's okay, she says. I will not die. That's the whole point of this. She then steps over to the man with the mushrooms and takes one. She moves over into the shade of the statue, out of direct sunlight,

but still in a position so the crowd can see her clearly. She lets some of her blood drip on the mushroom, and then she puts it in her mouth and eats it. Then she steps back out of the shade and moves toward the crowd, holding her wounded arm out. As we watch, the cut on her arm closes up. The process taking about 30 seconds. Jen wipes away the blood, and it's as if there was never any cut at all.

This really freaks out the people in the crowd. Amy and I look at each other, eyebrows arched and surprise. That's one hell of a magic trick, my dad says. Other people in the crowd are dismissing it similarly. A big man in jeans and a plaid shirt steps forward and shouts at the cultists. We don't want any of your witchcraft in our town. Now get gone. Go back to where you came from.

Other members of the crowd affirm this, telling these people to leave. But the speaker seems unfazed. He holds up his hands for quiet. Our demonstration is not done yet. If you wish us to leave when it is, we will do so. But please, let us finish. Jen steps back from the crowd and lines up with the other silent,

stone-faced cultists. Then the other volunteer steps forward. This is James, the speaker says. He is ready to demonstrate the power of the fungus. James steps over and takes the mushroom from the man with the backpack. Then the speaker steps over to the man with the backpack and cuts him with the knife. It's a much smaller cut than the one he made on Jen, but it still bleeds. James holds the mushroom out and lets some of the man's blood drip onto it.

Then he steps into the shade of the statue, just like Jen did, and he brings the mushroom to his mouth. Ew, Amy says next to me. I agree. Eating someone else's blood is pretty nasty. But James does it, chewing and swallowing, and then stepping out from the shade when he's done. He holds his arms out and closes his eyes like something is about to happen. And something does happen. All his visible skin turns black as.

Cole, aside from two little bright spots on his forehead above his eyes. The crowd is roiling now. People are screaming, knowing there's no way this is a magic trick. Join us! The speaker shouts over the crowd. Amy and I are jostled as the crowd shifts. My dad reaches out and grabs my arm, while I reach back and try to catch Amy's hand, but it's too late.

A couple of men shoved between us, and my dad pulls me back at the same time. A shot rings out, and the speaker, The speaker goes down. I look over my shoulder as my dad drags me away, and I'm able to see the speaker stand back up again, as if nothing happened. More shots ring out from the crowd, aimed at the scattering cultists. Pretty soon, everyone is screaming, or running, or firing weapons. I call out for Amy, trying to yank out of my dad's grip, but I can't.

Then we're out of the park and rushing back home. Dad with one hand on me and the other on my mom. We get into the house and lock the door. Then my dad runs to get his shotgun. We head to the kitchen at the back of the house as the sound of gunfire remains near constant outside. Amy's still out there. I say.

I need to go back. Absolutely not. My mother says. No way. Your mother's right. My dad says, coming in with his shotgun in hand. No one is leaving this house until things calm down. We sit in the kitchen, hearing occasional gunfire from outside.

We also hear people screaming and shouting, people running, and cars tearing up and down the streets. My dad calls 911 and is assured by the operator, who is probably miles away from our town, that help is on the way. After a couple of hours, the sounds of chaos gradually fade away. I try texting and calling Amy, but she doesn't pick up or answer my messages. Finally, as the sun is going down, my dad manages to reach one of our neighbors on the phone. He talks in another room and then comes back into the kitchen. Well?

My mom asks. What's happening? Fred says that the town has gone insane. There are more of those cult members running around, both the normal looking ones and the ones that are tar black. They're trying to force people to eat those mushrooms. Meanwhile, some of the townspeople have split into different groups to try and hunt them. But at least one group is shooting pretty much anyone on site.

Oh my God, we need the National Guard or the Army here. My mom says, looking deathly pale. Fred says that he's already made some calls to that effect. Hopefully, they'll send some people up. I'm only half listening to this because most of my thoughts are on Amy. With all the chaos at the park, there's no telling what happened to her. But I need to find out. There's no question in my mind.

So I wait my parents out. Their bedroom is at the back of the house. So they insist that we all sleep there. I don't fight it, grabbing my pillow and blanket and pretending to fall asleep on their floor. But when I'm confident they're both asleep, I grab the shotgun and sneak out of the room. I step out onto the stoop, closing the front door quietly and locking it behind me. Amy's house is on the other side of the square, about a half mile away. I can get there quickly and make sure she's safe.

And if she's not there? Well, I don't know what I'll do. I don't see anyone out on the dark streets as I traverse the first block. But as I come to an intersection, I see something glowing down the street on my right. I duck behind a bush, holding the shotgun to my chest. My rib cage feels like it's about to burst open for my heart beating so hard. Leaning forward, I look past the bush and see a man and a woman walking up toward me. Their skin is glowing faintly, and their heads keep turning.

left and right as though they're looking for someone. If I run across the street, they'll see me. So I squeeze between the bushes and into the yard they border, using them for cover to hide. Crouching, I grip the shotgun in sweaty hands. Hello? A woman's voice says, from just a few feet away. I know you're there. You can stand up. I recognize the voice. Mrs. Stanton? I say, standing up. Sure enough. It's Mrs. Stanton. My math teacher and her husband. Thomas.

She says from the other side of the bushes. You're okay. Thank goodness. Come here. Why are you glowing? I ask, taking a step back. It's okay. She says, we're okay.

We've never felt better. Just come here and let me give you a hug. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-mojohn for 15 minutes. We're like to dojo. Fere to play. Vive the pleasure with the Ojo. They propose the most recent machine-assau and

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responsibility. The conditions apply. Why? I say, she's never hugged me in my life. Her husband just stands there, staring at me with a kind of hunger in his eyes.

I bring the shot my shoulder, but don't yet lift the barrel toward them. Just come here, she says in her angry teacher voice, but her eyes jerk up to something behind me. I hear movement. Someone's running toward me, so I jump aside, landing in the grass, and looking up to see a pitch black figure crash through the bushes and slam into Mrs. Stanton on the other side. There's a flash of life and a weird sound like a pile of dead leaves being kicked, and I scramble up to see the black figure and Mrs. Stanton disintegrating into some kind of lightweight powder that drifts in the breeze.

I instinctively pull my shirt up over my nose and mouth, not wanting to breathe any of it in. Mr. Stanton cries out and then looks up at him. He lunges at me, jumping over the bushes. Letting my shirt drop, I bring the shot to him out and fire it at him, hitting him in the chest. He flies backward, tumbling back through the bushes and out of sight. Stunned, I take a step forward to see the damage I've done.

Mr. Stanton appears, snarling and apparently unhaunted. harmed, although still glowing. He lunges for me again, and I trip over my own foot trying to backpedal, falling onto the grass. Just as Mr. Stanton reaches out for me with one glowing hand, I hear a whoop sound from off to my right, and a net slams into my attacker, knocking him to the ground. I scramble up as Stanton convulses on the ground under the net. Suddenly, several dark figures appear around me. One of them grabs my arms and spins me around, deftly yanking the shotgun from my hand. At first, I think it's more of the black mushroom people, but I quickly realize it's not. These are some special forces-type guys, with all kinds of equipment. Four of them

cover Stanton with another net. Only this one has spikes which sink into the ground, pinning the glowing man to the lawn. Come with me, kid, the one who took my shotgun says, but my girlfriend. You don't have a choice. Now come with me, or I'll put you under a net like that one, he says. So I go with them. The glowing ones and the black ones, I tell them as we walk. They die if they touch each other. I know, he says. And you die if either of them touches you.

Where are your parents? At my house. Address, he says. I tell him. Then we round the corner, and I see a bunch of special ops guys standing guard in front of the church. They have trucks and equipment parked in the church parking lot. The guys bring me into the church where about 100 people are sitting. They all look up as I come in.

Many faces look back down and disappointment. I'm not the person they've been waiting for. But one face among the crowd perks up in relief and excitement. Amy's face. SCP 1627 is a species of fungus superficially resembling fly agoric mushrooms. This fungus's anomalous effects manifest as a result of ritualistic behavior composed of the following criteria. 1. SCP 1627 comes into contact with human blood. 2. The blood and the fungus are ingested by a human subject.

3. Both are ingested in the absence of direct sunlight. If the subject ingests the mushroom in such a way with their own blood, they become an SCP 1627-A instance. They glow in low light. All their wounds, diseases, or infections heal, and they are impossible to harm by any traditional means. However, skin contact with one of these instances will cause humans to age rapidly and die within two weeks,

essentially feeding their remaining life force to the SCP 1627-A instance. If the subject ingests the mushroom in such a way with another person's blood, they become an SCP-27-B instance. They will experience uniformly dark pigmentation across their entire form, with two points of light located on their upper half, which appear to function as eyes. Very rarely do individuals retain their original personality after the transformation. Instead, instances will display predatory behavior. These organisms will often kill their prey via suffocation after entering into their respiratory tract. Once their target is dead,

SCP-1627-B will invade the corpse and consume the victim's cardiovascular nervous, and reproductive systems. If instances of 1627-A and 1627-B are brought together, both subjects will die immediately after making contact. The cause of this is currently being studied.