The SCP Experience - Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me! | SCP-7097

Episode Date: July 3, 2026

A gossip-obsessed anomaly trapped inside a fruit fly knows every secret in the Foundation—and she’s willing to use them all to escape. But when her blackmail turns a simple containment breach into a blood-soaked disaster, everyone around her learns the same horrifying truth: some secrets are deadlier when they’re spoken out loud. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Fists fly like seagulls being chased off an airport runway. Frantic, desperate, no real thought given to direction. Two men clad in D-class personnel orange jumpsuits are busy destroying the south wing break room as they wrestle and fight and scream and spit at each other. You bastard! D-91168, also known as Arnie, shouts as he throws a wild haymaker at the other man's head. You knew I was going to ask her about where? We aren't allowed to leave the sight, you moron.

D33615, also known as Stu, Bellows, as the ducks under Arnie's swing. To movie night, jerk! I was going to ask her out to movie night. Why? She hates your guts. Because you lied and told her I picked my nose and wipe it on the couch in the entertainment room. Yeah, because you do do that. Shut up. I do not. It doesn't matter. I didn't tell her. men dressed in lab coats walk into the break room and freeze.

Crap, this isn't good. Dr. Hoffman says. No, shall we call security? Dr. Lewis asks. Dr. Hoffman frowns. You'd think they'd already be here by now. Oh, no, no, the football game is on TV. A small, buzzing voice says, making both doctors jump, while the two D-class personnel continue

their immature middle school fight. You could drive a tank down the halls, and those morons still wouldn't leave that television set until halftime is called. What the hell was that? Dr. Hoffman asks, looking around. Did you hear that too, Lewis? Dr. Lewis nods, then sighs. I have an idea.

Let me make a call. You better not be calling Mendoza. The small voice cries. God, I hate that woman. Okay, okay, hate is a strong word. Thoroughly dislike with a passion only a goddess could conjure. How's that? Better?

Dr. Lewis, sighs again. It's that damn fly. Um, my name is Cassidy, and I'm not a fly despite the body that I may inhabit at the moment. Dr. Hoffman watches the two D-class pummel each other, then points at the melee. What does a fly have to do with this shit? Cassidy! My name is Cassidy! Why is that so hard for all of you science folks to understand? And, since you asked, regarding the current scuffle, I might have been the one to whisper to a certain lady that D911 68 there has an affinity to wipe his bugs on furniture.

Where is that voice coming from? Dr. Hoffman spins in a circle. I'm not seeing any fly. Fruit fly. I'm in a fruit fly. And look on your pal's shoulder. Dr. Hoffman pauses and studies Dr. Lewis's right shoulder. Oh, wow. There it is.

It? You do not call a lady an it, Dr. Jerk. Um, yeah, we have an issue in the South Wing Break Room. Dr. Lewis reports. His phone to his ear and eyebrow raised as Arnie kicks stew in the crotch. Yeah, security should get here ASAP. Don't forget about the fly. Dr. Hoffman says. Right, and I believe that SCP 7097 is loose. We'll need a containment team as well. Cassidy! My name is Cassidy, not SCP 7097. How is it talking like that? Fruitflies don't have vocal cords. Dr. Hoffman asks.

Oh, sweetie, look around. Where do you think we are? Reality are us? Please. Dr. Lewis listens to the voice on the other end of his phone for a moment, but nods. Okay, got it. He hangs up and frowns at Dr. Hoffman. Security is on the way, but the containment team is busy handling an issue in K-sector.

K-sector? Should we be worried? I don't know. Probably. In the meantime, I was told to find a glass and capture 70-90-7. immediately. Good luck, suckers! The fly lifts off from the doctor's shoulder and flies straight for the two fighting men, who are mostly just spitting and slapping at each other now, their energy spent. Arnie opens his mouth to shout, then snaps it closed and starts coughing. Swallowed! He chokes out. That takes care of that, Dr. Lewis says. How about we hit the break room in the east wing? Dr. Hoffman nods, and the two quickly exit the

room, leaving Arnie and Stu in a pile on the floor, both panting and sweating and glaring at each other. Then six security guards rush into the room, stunned batons lit up and ready to rock. Neither Arnie nor Stu can get a word out to protest what is about to happen before it happens. Shaking and shuddering, the two D-Class personnel flop on the floor as vault after vault is pumped through them. Then the stunned batons are pulled away, and Arne and Stu are left to lie in their own piss. Call some other D's to clean this up. I want these men stripped, hose down, and thrown into solitary immediately. The lead security guard snarls. Damn orange bastards. Always making things hard on us working folks. In minutes, more orange jumpsuits arrive and drag Arnie and

Stu out of the break room. Followed by a lone security guard, Arnie and Stu are transported down several hallways before being deposited unceremoniously in the men's locker room, where their jumpsuits are cut off and they are tossed into the shower room. Freezing cold water rushes down on the two men, reviving both of them from their unfortunate encounter with a half a dozen stun batons. Someone throws a bar of soap at Arnie, nailing him right between the eyes. Then the orange jumpsuits wander off, leaving the two alone with the security guard. Hurry it out. The guard snaps. You two are in deep shit, and I want to get this over with. Groaning loudly, Arnie grabs the soap, manages to claw his way upright and starts cleaning himself.

Stu doesn't move. Trying to avoid the spraying water, the guard gives the supine man a quick kick to the side. Get up, dumbass. The guard snaps at Stu. Didn't you hear me? I want to get this over with. Stu still doesn't move. Arnie starts to lean in, but the guard shouts.

Stay back, D-Class. You focus on you. Shrugging, Arnie soaps up and scrubs down while the security guard nudges Stu over and over with the toe of his boot. Oh dear, it looks like you killed him, a small voice says. The security guard jumps and spins around. Who's in here? Artie turns the water off and just stands there, staring down at a now, obviously dead stew. Yeah, I think the voice is right, he says.

Stu ain't breathing. What? The guard spins back around and glares down at Stu, nudging him again with his boot. Hey, hey, get your ass up. Sweetheart, that ain't going to happen, the small voice says. Then a fruit fly buzzes in front of the guard's face. Don't you dare swat at me. I just got this body from off a banana, thank you.

After my previous body took just an awful trip down D91168's throat. Of course, the guard swats at the anomaly, but the fruit fly swoops out of the way without any trouble. She zips over to Arnie and lands on the top of his left ear. Arnie flinches, but doesn't jump. Cassidy whispers. When we get to the cell, I'm going to tell you how to get out of this place, and you're taking me with you. The guard looks over at Arnie.

Did you hear something? Arnie shakes his head and holds his hands up. I didn't hear anything. I didn't see anything. I'd like to go to my cell now. The guard looks at Stu's body and shakes his head. What a mess. He activates his comms.

Hey, control. We got a situation in the men's locker room. Gonna need body cleanup ASAP. Copy that. Control replies. The guard pulls his stun baton and aims it at Arnie. You start walking. You know the way. Arnie nods and, still dripping wet, leaves the shower room, leaves the men's locker room, and walks stark naked through the foundation site, ignoring the wide eyes and amused stares he receives while the security guard chuggles behind him. When they reach the detention wing, the guard opens the first door,

grabs Arnie by the arm and shoves him into a small 8 foot by 8 foot cell. I'll see if I can get you some clothes. The guard says, slamming and locking the cell door. As soon as the guard's footfalls are no longer heard, Cassidy says, Okay, I'm going to make sure he does come back with better than a jumpsuit because that dumb ox is our ticket to freedom. What are you? Arnie asks, squinting to see the tiny fly.

Jesus, where are you? Still on your ear, genius. Arnie goes to touch the top of his ear. Hey, do not do that. I'm smaller than a grain of rice, you naked fool. Oh, sorry? No, it's fine. It's fine. Just be careful.

The fly lifts off from Arnie's ear, and he thinks he can see the speck flitting toward the cell door. Then it's gone. After several minutes, heavy footfalls fill the hallway outside the cell, and the door is unlocked and yanked open to reveal a red-faced security guard. the same security guard who shoved Arnie into the cell. A black tactical uniform is thrown in Arnie's face. There, you son of a bitch. Here's your outfit. Now get dressed so I can get you out of here and

get on with my life. Cassidy flies into the cell and buzzes before the confused Arnie. Do as he says, Sugar, we don't have much time. And I have used some of my tea that's been spilled and collected by Mouin to motivate Mr. Wilson here to be our escort out of this horrible place. Motivate. Blackmail's more like it. The guard, Wilson grumbles. You say tomato, sweetie, and I say maybe don't put your thing in every creature with tentacles housed in this building. Cassidy laughs. I do have to wonder how you are alive, though.

Some of those squitty bastards can really get jealous. Shut up. Wilson mutters, stupid fly. What's, what is going on? Arnie asks, finally finding his voice. We're escaping? That's right, dear. We are dipping out. No more stuck in a damn jar for me. Thank you very, very much.

We're going outside to see the world to live free and die happy. Um, I don't want to die. Arnie says, it's an expression, darling. No one's dying. Wilson snorts. Oh, something to say, cosmic octopi lover? You're never getting out of here. The scanners will know. The psychics will know. The guy at the front door will know. You can't leave without badging out. And this guy doesn't have a badge. Are you sure about that?

Pretty damn sure, since I didn't give him one. You know, I'm actually cool staying here. Arnie says. Shut up. Wilson snaps. All right, everyone calm down. No need for pennies to get bunched. Cassidy flits about the men's heads.

What's that on your belt, Mr. Wilson? Looks like a badge to me. I can't give her my badge. Are you sure? Even if it means I don't whisper in the site director's ear about how you put lipstick on SCP-9-3. Okay, okay, Jesus. You are one cruel bitch, you know that? One person's cruelty is another person's motivation. You just have to come at it from my perspective.

Perspective? You're a goddamn fly. No need to be bigoted. Discrimination is ugly, and it gives you wrinkles, according to that woke anesthesiologist on that YouTube channel, Dr. Mendoza. The dumb twat lets me watch. Wilson shakes his head. What is my life? Arnie, dressed in the black uniform, clears his throat. What now? Now, sweetheart, we leave. Wilson, show us the way.

Whatever. Wilson shakes his head, then points his finger at Arnie. You, walk in front of me. He plucks his badge off his belt and tosses it to Arnie, who fumbles it slightly but manages to hang on to it. You'll open each door while I keep an eye on your ass. His ass? Oh, Wilson, you do have so many proclivities, don't you?

You, fly, keep your mouth or whatever you have shut. This is going to look weird enough without having some gossipy bug in the mix. You should really talk to someone about anger management, Mr. Wilson. That rage is going to lead to serious digestive issues. Might I recommend a good probiotic? They advertise this one brand during my stories that I think is exactly what you need. I am not listening to you, Wilson says and grabs Arnie's arm, pulling him out into the hallway. Now, walk, D911-68.

Look natural, apt appropriately. Do not get us caught. Do as he says, Sugar. Cassidy says, and alights on Arnie's right shoulder. I can almost taste the freedom already. Arnie blinks a few times, then shrugs and starts walking. When they get to the end of the detention block, Wilson points at the card reader on the wall. Just touch it to the reader. I know how key cards work, Arnie says quietly, but does as he's told.

The door opens, and they walk through. The next corridor is thankfully empty of foundation personnel. They move on to the next door, and the next and the next, only encountering a couple of research assistants along the way. No one even bats an eye at Arnie and Wilson until they reach the North Wing. Yo, Wilson, where have you been? Boss wants us in conference room six for a debrief on that deal with a D-class dime. Meeting starts in five, so move ass.

Hey, Bonner, um, yeah, I'm, um, heading there now. Wilson says. Gotta take care of something first. The guard, Bonner, frowns, then turns his attention on Arnie. Shit, isn't this the other D-class? What the hell is he doing out of solitary? Why is he wearing a security uniform? Oh, you're just jealous because his uniform fits right,

while yours looks like you're carrying a dump around all day. Cassidy says. Damn it. Wilson mutters. Wait, is that an anomaly? Bonner looks around, Then stares daggers back at Wilson. What the hell have you done?

Arnie, unsure of what to do but afraid to do nothing, takes one step toward Bonner and then punches him squarely between the eyes. The security guard goes cross-eyed, wobbles, then falls flat onto his back, out cold. Cassidy shouts. Oh shit. Wilson shouts, then start shoving Arnie in the back. Go, go, go. Now, it's a real jail break.

How exciting! Cassidy cries from atop. Arnie's shoulder. Arnie says nothing and just starts running. He barely hears Wilson's orders to turn there, turn here, take that corridor, open that door, and everything else the security guard is shouting. Arnie is on autopilot and focusing on keeping his feet from coming out from under him as they skid around corners and sprint up and down stairwells. And alarm blairs, and Wilson clenches his fists. Damn it, we're screwed now. You two? Cassidy shouts, we're too close to give up. Wilson comes to a stop and shakes his head. We'll never get out.

The place is on lockdown. Mr. Wilson, never say never. I am sure there is something you can do in your professional capacity as a foundation security guard. No, it's over. I don't accept that. And I doubt your wife will accept your dirty liaisons with tentacled ones, or is she a kinky bitch like you? I hate you so much.

They should kill you and be done with it. You think they haven't tried? Who do you think spread that hot goss about Dr. Gremlin's assistant? Ruin that man's marriage so fast that he snapped. and threw me into a cup of acid before he ended his own life. What a mess that was. You remember him right, Mr. Wilson? He used that death ray and ended up staining the entire employee lounge purple with his own guts.

I bet I can figure out how to end your ass. There are other anomalies housed here that will send you to hell. Do you mean literal hell or Cleveland? Because from what I heard on the Drew Barrymore show, they are the same place. I'd rather go back to the cell, Arnie says. No one asked you, Arnold. Cassidy Spits. Now suck it up, both of you.

We have a front door to walk out of. Before the two men can take another step, the corridor is filled with security personnel, their rifles aimed at Wilson and Arnie. Told you, Wilson says. God damn blackmail and fly. On your knees, G-class? The lead security guard, Wilson's boss, shouts. You too, Wilson.

I don't know what this is, but I don't like the looks of it. Wilson holds his hands up. Listen, boss, I can explain. Oh, I bet you can, but not to me. Now, get on your damn knees. Arnie, of course, complies instantly and drops on his knees. Wilson, you too. The boss yells.

Do not make me shoot you. Shoot me? Jesus, boss, listen, I'm not in charge of this shit show. It's all because of SCB gun! Cassidy shouts. Wilson's eyes go wide. Wait, no, no, no! The corridor erupts in a hail of bullets.

Wilson's body, even with his body. even with his body armor on, dances and squirms as round after round after round impacts him, drilling holes in his legs, his belly, his neck, and his head. His ribs snap and crack behind his protective vest from the never-ending onslaught of lead. Then the rifles empty and go silent, leaving Wilson to stand there for half a second before he collapses onto the floor, a bloody mess. Stupid son of a bitch, the boss says and takes a step forward, his eyes moving to Arnie, as the guards all reload.

You, what are we going to do with you? You know, it sure would look a lot better for all you boys if, um, say instead of one of your own going rogue and helping me escape, it was just some poor D-class who was all upset because his buddy just died, and the girl he's sweet on thinks he has horrible body odor. Arnie glances at Cassidy on his shoulder. I thought it was because I picked my nose.

That too, sugar, that too. Then Arnie's eyes go wide with realization. Wait a minute. Did you just offer me up as a patsy? We all play our roles, Arnold. She clears her fly throat or whatever fruit flies have. Listen, boss man. I hate to say it, but this guy knows all about your trips to the maintenance room.

You don't want him talking, do you? I know what? Arnie protests and looks like he's about to stand up. I don't know anything about what she just said. I was just gone! Cassidy yells and lifts off from Arnie's shoulder. Already jacked up on adrenaline, the guards don't have to be told. twice. They let loose with a barrage as brutal and deadly as what they had dished out on Wilson.

Arnie screams and goes silent as his lungs are torn to shreds by gunfire, since he's not wearing a protective vest like the late Mr. Wilson. Not that it did that man much good. The boss shouts. The rifles stop barking, and everyone stares at the two corpses on the floor. So big boss man, this looks like you might be in a little trouble. Cassidy says, flitting about the corridor, zipping in and out of three. tendrils of smoke still drifting from the rifle barrels. How about we make a little deal? I'll keep my mouth shut, giving you all plausible deniability.

If you just get me to the front door so I can blow this popsicle stand. Isn't that a great saying? I heard it from some old movie that was playing after that one show about... A plastic box snapped shut around the tiny fly. Hey, what is this crap? You better let me out of here right now, mister. The boss tosses the small box to one of his men. Take the evil thing back to itself.

I'll put it in the incident report right now. Wrong move, my dears. I have so much dirt on you boys that you'll be lucky to end up in cells instead of the incinerator. The guards all give the boss where he looks. Relax. No one believes this little shit.

Trust me. Everyone hates her. It's all dirt this, secrets that. At this point, no one listens. The boss shakes his head at Wilson's corpse. Stupid bastard should have known that. I wonder what he was so freaked out about it.

Well, I'm not telling. that's for sure. Cassidy calls out as the guard walks down the corridor with the plastic box in his hand. But did you guys hear about Dr. Mendoza's sister's brother-in-law? Oh my God, talk about it. Pervert. SEP 7097 is a sapient entity that inhabits female members of the Drosophila genus and shows a strong interest in learning and sharing personal secrets. When SCP 7097 dies, it will immediately inhabit the nearest suitable Drosophila specimen. Its personality and mannerisms remain unchanged after transfer, and the entity is fully aware of this ability.

Because of that, SCP 7097 may attempt to breach containment through suicide if it is not kept sufficiently entertained. However, when properly entertained, SCP 7097 becomes dormant and unresponsive. SCP-7097 also possesses an innate ability to detect secrets. Testing has determined this ability functions as a form of anomalous olfactory detection. The entity frequently uses this sense during communication, and has been known to make unsolicited remarks about foundation personnel.

It may also initiate games such as Truth or Dare. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released.