The SCP Experience - Junk Male | SCP-2752

Episode Date: November 29, 2024

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2752 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2752 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett * * * 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 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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

The steps that led up to Noah's front door were cracked stone, and he chose this as a place to sit. The ridges pressed aggressively against the seam of his jeans. Noah shifted his weight to try and make himself more comfortable. but it was not very effective. It possibly would have been more so if he could let himself take his eyes away from his mailbox for even one second.

Today was the day. Today had to be the day. He ground the toes of his sneakers into the sidewalk in front of him, crushing little green weeds that tried to slide up through the brakes and the concrete. Soon the mailman would drive up and pop that thick, padded envelope into the waiting mailbox. It was the letter that would decide Noah's fate,

whether he would be invited as a student to a prestigious international program or whether he would be stuck attending Auckland. The mail truck pulled up, and Noah's heart started racing. He felt like a dog waiting at the mail slot, and it took everything in him not to spring up as soon as he heard the box being opened. He dug his nails into his palms and sank his teeth into his bottom lip. hunching forward so that his knees were drawn up to his chest, and his chin was resting against his knuckles. After what seemed like an eternity, the mail truck moved on.

Noah sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the end of his walkway. He grabbed the mailbox door and yanked it open, shoving his hand inside, and grabbing the fistful of bills and useless advertisements that were wrapped around the one thing he really wanted. Noah didn't even wait until he got inside. He sat back down on his steps and spread the mail out beside him, diving through the piles of holiday-colored newsprint ads for his prize. There was a white business envelope in the center, and he snatched it up, flipping it around with his pulse, thudding so hard in his throat that it made his jaw ache.

In the upper corner, printed in red ink, the sender was listed as Robinson Toe Liz. As quickly as it had started racing, Noah's heart stopped dead and plummeted into his stomach. The effect left him almost dizzy, and he leaned back until he was almost flat. He held the envelope staring in despair at the little plastic window where his name was prominently typed out in black ink. He had never heard of Robinson Toe Liz, but he knew that it was not connected to the program where he had applied. Noah set the envelope on his face where he could smell the warm paper, and he took a few deep breaths. There was a chance it could be connected.

He sat with that possibility for a few moments, before grabbing the envelope again and flipping it around to break the seal. The acid-free paper was thick and slippery in his fingers. At the top, where it looked like his name was supposed to be, there was just a block blacking out the text after deer. Dear, thank you for using our service. Your results will be appearing shortly. It was not signed. There was an extra sheet of paper, which was completely blank. Noah's brow crumpled in confusion,

and he let the useless piece of junk slide free from his hand to join the rest of the pile that had collected on his porch. Spam mail. That was his best guess. He couldn't even remember signing up for a service. The oddity slipped out of his brain almost as quickly as it had appeared. It had nothing to do with his international program application, so he could not bring himself to be interested.

I guess it will have to come tomorrow, he thought to himself. Noah allowed himself a few despairing seconds, staring up at the blue sky above his head, before pulling himself up off the step and gathering up the junk mail. He curled it all up into the chest. shape of a tube and then dropped it into the recycling bin by his door as he walked back into the house. The thick envelope jutted out like a white flag of surrender, and he took out his frustration by stomping it down until it was crunched up like everything else. The next morning, Noah's stomach

hurt. It was pain he could not begin to describe. Noah curled up until his knees were pressed against his chest, and he drew in a shaky breath. He could not even reach his phone sitting on his bedside table. It was still plugged into its charger, and he had to grab it if he wanted to be able to call his boss and tell him there was no way he was making it to work. The alarm was going off, and the unbearable ping, ping, ping, felt like it was sounding off from right behind his eyeballs. His stomach gargled.

Noah pressed his hands against it to try and quiet the bubbling churn. Every time he shifted, he felt nauseous. But staying still for too long, also lit up his spine and sent all-encompassing pain shooting up to the back of his head. This had to be it somehow. He was going to die just like this. He was going to be found days later, curled up in the center of his bed, like mummified remains at Pompeii. He didn't even remember eating anything that could have put him in this position. That was the worst part.

Sweat, dripped down his forehead, and Noah shifted again, groaning as he rolled over onto his side and gripped his pillow to try and keep himself grounded. Noah closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see were inky swirls of black dancing around a stark white landscape. Interrupted every now and then by blots of red, his phone rang. This time, Noah defied the pain long enough to grab his phone and yank it off the charger. A sharp pain jabbed him in his stomach and Noah dashed to the bathroom, tripping on a pair of shoes, inexplicably jammed underneath his sink cabinet, slamming his foot into the side of his shower tub.

Noah barely managed to wiggle his boxers down before landing on the toilet. The porcelain rang as the seat clattered and he doubled over. bracing his elbows against his knees and clicking the bright green button on his screen. I'm dying, was the first thing he said. There was silence on the other side for what felt like a full minute. And then his stepdad's voice came down the line. Luca asked from the other side. Noah ground his teeth against the full body rebellion that was taking place

and wondered how much of it his stepdad could hear. No, Noah said. I'm sick as hell. I've got the flu or something. I don't even know. Well, Luca did not sound any less concerned, rolled his eyes. He didn't even want to think about food when every cell in his body felt like it was shriveling. Sure, he said. Soup would be good. Do you have any?

He couldn't even think. Medicine? What was he even supposed to take? Did they have anything at the pharmacy that reversed streams of acid? I'll see what I can get a hold of. Lucas said. Noah detected a hint of laughter in his stepdad's voice, and that was enough to make him want to throw his phone across the bathroom. Except he could barely sit up.

He doubted he could actually do more than drop the phone down between his trembling legs. Thanks, Noah said. I'll be there as soon as I can, Luca told him. I just got to finish up running this errand for your mom. Okay. There was another eternity-long. silence, the stepdad said. Love y'est. He hung up. Noah rolled his eyes again, even though the very act made his growing migraine throb, and he dropped his phone. Noah hung his head and arms

over his knees and surrendered himself to the inevitable. If Luca was out running around, then Noah would be lucky if soup and medicine arrived within three to four business days. His stepdad was not what anyone would consider reliable. or at least not punctual. Could have been worse, he supposed. It could have been a heart attack or something. Then he would be dead because he decided to depend on his stepfather

to take him to the hospital. By the time Noah felt like he could sit up, his legs had gone numb, and his head felt like he had been held underwater and told to breathe. He stood up and took care of himself, pulling up his boxers and placing one hand against the wall, to hold himself steady before turning around.

He couldn't help but glanced down. The water on the inside of the bowl was pitch black, like he had spent the last hour pissing out pure tar. The moment he dipped his chin, he was hit with the sharp smell of ink. It was like holding a permanent marker directly under his nose. Noah coughed and his chest rattled. He felt like there was something stuck right at the base of his throat,

but he couldn't hack it up. At least he wasn't as nauseous anymore. He held his hand over the lever, trying to decide whether he should flush or not. It wasn't like he could take the toilet as evidence with him, but something told him that he should probably go to the hospital. He decided he would if it happened again. He picked up his phone, snapped a picture, and then flushed.

That fresh ink smell lingered, and his stomach garbled at him. Noah pushed his hand against his bladder to try and alleviate the awful burning ache as he limped back to bed. The window to Noah's bedroom faced the street, and he found himself still watching for the postman, even though he wasn't sure he would ever get out of bed again. The letter for the program had to be delivered today. If he saw the truck, he would ask his stepdad to bring the mail in when he came over if he actually made it. Since his trip to the bathroom, his stomach had calmed down a little bit, but his bladder still burned, and a hacking cough had taken over. Noah grunted and pounded his chest intermittently, trying to get up the wad that was sitting right at the bottom of his esophagus and hindering every breath.

Nothing came up. He watched some videos on his phone to try and distract himself, looking up every time he heard a car roll by. Around one in the afternoon, he saw the mail truck drive up. His heart fluttered, and he drew in an excited breath, which was apparently too excited. It got stuck, and he hacked and gagged, gripping onto the window cell as he tried to cough up that growing mass. Nothing came up again, and he watched the driver roll away. It only occurred to Noah then that if the driver had looked up, he might see a 20-year-old. year old man with his face plastered to the glass, turning purple and coughing like he had sucked

a jawbreaker down the wrong pipe. The entire neighborhood was going to think he was crazy. He would worry about that later, once he was through dying. When the driver was out of sight, Noah glanced down at the mailbox. Suddenly, he was flooded with a sense of triumphant and absolute surety. His acceptance was here. It was right there in that mailbox. He set his hand against the glass, his desperation overtaking every other vicious pain that racked his body. He didn't keep track of how long he was staring at the mailbox, as if he could will it to grow legs and walk the acceptance letter inside, right up to his bed.

A glimpse of blue slid into his vision, and he realized it was Luca's car. His surprise was only a fizzle, compared to his relief as he grabbed his phone from the depths of his sweat dampened blankets and texted his stepdad. Bring in the mail, please. He watched Luca like a hawk. He wasn't above tapping on the window if his stepdad didn't check his phone before walking in. Luca pulled a pharmacy bag out from his backseat

before glancing down at his phone. He typed out some sort of response and Noah's phone buzzed, but he didn't even look down at it. He kept his nose pressed to the window and remained glued there while his stepdad walked up to the mailbox, opened it, and reached in to pull out. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His hands were empty, except for the pharmacy bag as he walked up to the door.

Luca wanted to scream. He heard keys rattling, and then the front door opened. Hey! Luca's voice came from downstairs. Nathaniel thought seriously about hurling a shoe at him. Hey! Noah croaked. He coughed again as soon as he spoke. His burning eyes filled with water, and he groaned miserably, sinking down into the depths of his blankets.

Hey, champ. How are you holding up? Luca asked as soon as he walked into the room. Noah groaned miserably. His face felt like it was bright red, like it would be as hot as a copper pot sitting on the stove. He couldn't imagine what he looked like. Dead and dying, Noah said. Say prayers for me. Stop that, Luca said. He had a patronizing parent smile, even though he had only been married to Luca's mom for about three years.

I brought you some medicine and your mom sent this jar of soup. I picked you up at ginger ale too. Thanks, Noah said. He wrapped one of his blankets up over his head and tucked the edges under his chin so only his face peered out. Was there any mail? I didn't see anything when I went to do. check, Luca told him.

I saw the postman put something in, Noah argued back. My acceptance letter for that program I applied for is in there. Luca gave him an odd look, before spreading his hands and shrugging. I didn't see anything, he said. Maybe he started to put some mail in and realized it was the wrong house, or something like that. No, Noah said stubbornly. I saw it. Before he could continue, he coughed again.

He forced himself to hack even harder, even though it felt like there was a knife, jabbing the inside of his throat, and his lungs felt like they were being wrung out like a wet towel. His face flushed even harder, all the blood gathering in his cheeks and jowls. Something was coming up his throat. He was so close to expelling it. He sucked in a breath through his nose and pushed it out through his mouth, hoping that would help. He knew all the snorting and hacking was gross, but he didn't care.

He had been suffering for too long. From the corner of his vision, he saw his stepfather move closer to the bed. Luca set a hand against Noah's back and slammed his palm against the center of it a few times, pounding. Noah let out one last good gust of wind, and whatever was blocking up his pipe came flying out of his mouth.

The rush of relief that left his body nearly made him collapse onto the nest of blankets and pillows he had gathered around him. A white wad landed on the pillow in front of him, but it was completely dry. In fact, it looked like paper. Noah furrowed his brow and grabbed it. He could see a little bit of red webbing

to indicate that it had, indeed, come from inside his chest. He opened up the paper and spread it out in front of him. His stomach flipped when he saw what was written on the page. Thank you for using our service. Your results are in. We have to get you to a hospital, Lucas said. He no longer had that patronizing, mildly amused parent quality to his voice. He sounded worried, but Noah could not stop staring at the paper.

I don't get it. Noah's hands were shaking. His voice started climbing, hoarse from all the coughing, until it was barely a wheeze. I don't understand. How? Come on. Luca started pushing blankets underneath Noah, as if he was going to carry him. Like Noah wasn't four inches taller than he was.

We're going to see a doctor. It's not. Noah's head spun. He coughed again, and his bladder burned. I don't understand. I don't. Don't try to talk, Lucas said. He was as white as a sheet.

Noah had never seen the man looking so petrified before. Just put your head on me. We're going down to the car. I can walk. Noah protested weekly. Fine, Lucas said. Then lean on me, and be careful with the steps. Lasagne sur-goled,

puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're saying that's the hour of dojo. Preet to enjoy? Vive the pleasure with the Ojo. The casino in-line that proposes the more recent machine-assin-sou and the game of casino in direct.

Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of misgents, and with the payments instantane. Hey, I! I've got gained. Woo-hoo! Do we pleasure. Play, oh, Joe. 18 years, 1,000 depot only, exclars,

50 tours gratuys on the machine-a-soubeck-bas-Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veilethe's played in a responsible. The conditions apply. Hours after Noah was admitted to the hospital. Luca still found himself sitting in the waiting room, texting back and forth with his stepson's mother. Are there any updates?

I'm still waiting. Surgery's take a while. I hope it's not because there were complications. I'm sure they would have said something. The waiting room door. opened, and a man in blue scrubs stepped out. He glanced around the waiting area and then waved, walking over to Luca like he wasn't the only person sitting in the tiny box of lifeless, dark glass, and uncomfortable green chairs. How is he? Luca asked. The doctor pulled down the

mask that covered his mouth and nose, and let it rest under his chin. He's stable now, the doctor said. I put this on his report, but I didn't think it would translate. well, so I thought I would come and just tell you myself. What is it? Luca squeezed the phone in his hand. When we operated on your stepson, we found a... The surgeon paused, as if he was not sure how to explain. Larger mass than we were expecting.

We pulled out two pounds of paper out of his stomach and his large intestine. What? Lucas stared at him in disbelief, unable to process, what was being said. Did he... Was it something he ate? No, the doctor said. That was what I thought at first,

but it was attached to the tissue. It was as if he grew it, like another organ. Oh my God, Lucas shook his head. Does it? Have you ever seen anything like this before? Unfortunately, the doctor said, it's something we don't understand. But it has been happening in young men about his age.

The doctor gave Luca a sympathetic half-smile. I wouldn't worry too much, he said. I expect he will make a full recovery, but I will have to see him for weekly checkups to make sure that whatever this is does not come back. I see. Luca still wasn't sure he understood everything he was being told. We'll get him scheduled.

The doctor said, Don't worry too much. The receptionist can help you. We're holding him overnight to monitor his condition. There are studies being done about this phenomenon. So maybe you would be interested in letting him participate in our services. I don't know. Luca cut him off.

I would have to ask my wife. Of course. The doctor pulled back a little bit. Well, give him about 30 minutes to wake up, and you can go back and see him. I'm obligated to ask you the other thing, of course. What is it? Luca asked. Well, it's a bit unusual, but you never know. The doctor smiled.

Would you like to keep the paper? SCP 2752 refers to a series of letters mailed to New Zealand addresses, offering advertising mail opt-out services to recipients. The sender is attributed to an organization named Robinson Toll Liz, which is not listed as a registered company in New Zealand, or any polity known to the foundation. No return address is found and confiscated SCP 2752 instances. To date, all known instances of SCP 2752

are sent solely to male individuals aged between 20 to 60 and with legal addresses in New Zealand cities. When SCP 2752 is read by its intended recipient, Iran referred to as subject, the following anomalous occurrences will manifest. Cessation of mail letters, advertising mail or otherwise, sent to the address of the subject's instances. Through the use of letters equipped with a GPS tracker, letters are shown to have vanished when placed inside a mailbox. Hand-delivered mail letters are exempted from this effect.

Claire cognizance regarding the contents of mail letters that would be sent to the subjects. This occurs after said letters are placed. in a mailbox. Traces of black dye manifested in subjects' urinary system, particularly the kidney, bladder, and urethra. Manifestation of paper pieces inside subjects' internal organs, including stomach, large intestines, lungs, and kidney. Scanned and handwritten copies of SCP 2752 do not possess this effect on their intended recipient.