The SCP Experience - Teeth | SCP-2540

Episode Date: September 30, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2540 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2540 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Cyrus S. * * * 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

Lazang sur-gillet, and thence-molyne for 15 minutes. Oh, you'd say that's the Dojo? Prere to play? Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in-line

that proposes the most recent machine-a-sou and the games to Casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of misg, and with

the payments instantane. Hey, I've gained! Woohoo! Scenture the pleasure! Play-Ojo! 18-10 and plus, 1-Depos only depots in Ontario.

50 tours, on the machine-a-soumine $1Bus Bonanza. DePos minimum of $10. DePo! I'm doing a way responsible. The conditions apply. Biennue at board of Via Rai.

Embarked and profite. Embarque and celebrate. Rigolet. Publiere. Savoy. Admirate. And profite. Via Rai,

the voice that we love that we love. The man on the bus would not stop grinding his teeth. Ryan tried not to hyperfixate on it, but he could hear the sound even through his earplugs. The calcium squealed obnoxiously. The sound got even worse when the man stuck the end of a pen between his teeth and began gnawing on it. He circulated it through his mouth, pushing it around with his tongue and squeezing it between his back molars. Ryan bent over in his seat and cupped his hands over his ears to further block out the sound.

The man stared at him. Ryan did not know how far away his stop was, but he was close to snapping. The man seemed to be doing it on purpose, like he could. could tell how much it was getting on Ryan's nerves. He bit down on the pen cap until it cracked, and then he sucked it into his mouth, rattling it against his teeth while never once moving his gaze. Ryan didn't have anything to throw at him, but he wished that he did. He would start taking off his shoes and hurling those if the bus did not stop soon.

The bus's brakes finally let out a shrill scream as it came to a stop at a covered bench. The glass hut was covered in graffiti, and the bus stop sign had been sprayed over so that the symbol was almost entirely obscured. This was not his stop, but Ryan did not care. He had to get off the bus or he would go nuts. He could always grab the next one. All of them eventually ended up in the same place anyway, right? He stood up. The man rose at the same time, and Ryan immediately sat back down. down. The man stuck the uncapped end of his pen into his mouth and continued chewing on it as he walked down the aisle. His puffy coat bumped against the shoulders and sides of other people who had not been fortunate enough to find an available seat. Ryan looked up as the man stopped in

front of him. He smelled sour, like corner store beer and unwashed armpits. The man stared at him a little longer. Ryan could feel his eyes drilling into the top of his head. But he did not look up. He did not want to accidentally catch the man's gaze. Hey, buddy, the man's voice was coarse. Ryan looked up and a wet, chewed-up pen hit him in the face. Ryan swallowed a scream. The man laughed and got off the bus. Ryan's stomach churned with a load of vomit that he couldn't unleash, and he curled back up in his seat, putting his bag between his thighs so that he had something to push his face into. A horrible shudder racked his body, and he tried not to think too hard about the pen. His OCD was already telling him to grab his hand sanitizer and rub it on his face.

He would have to throw all his clothes into the laundry basket when he got home. He hated, hated, hated public spaces. As soon as Ryan walked into his apartment, He threw his back down and started stripping. He pulled off his hoodie, his t-shirt, and his sweatpants. He threw them all into a tight wad and tossed them into his laundry basket before making his way down the hall and heading straight for the shower. The shower was another issue.

It was never clean enough for him. No matter how many times he bleached the whole thing and scrubbed the bottom of the sliding door with a bristled brush, he could still not shake the feeling that he was shaking. showering and filth. He saw mold everywhere, especially in the peeling corners and at the base of his rusted showerhead. But since it came down to either showering or living with the pen slime on his skin, he closed his eyes and bit that bullet, hurrying through the process as fast as he could. Once he was out of the shower, he put on fresh pajama pants and a tank top and collapsed

onto his bed. He pulled his weighted blanket up over himself and curled up underneath it. The pressure was somewhat soothing, but he could not stop thinking about that man. He thought about the way he pushed his pen cap around his mouth and how it sounded when it cracked between his teeth. Ryan shuddered, feeling nauseous again. He tried to banish the thought instead of obsessing over it. He had a tendency to think about things that bothered him for far longer than his therapist said was probably necessary. He rubbed his legs together underneath the blanket and eventually calmed himself down enough to sleep. It was three in the morning, according to his alarm clock, when Ryan woke up from his nap. He thought at first that it was three in the afternoon.

But one glance at his pitch-black curtains made him realize that this was not the case. Panic and guilt made his gut flutter. He had not meant to sleep for so long. He was not scheduled for work, but that did not mean he had not missed something important. Ryan picked up his phone. It was on 20%. He scrolled through his notifications,

and thankfully there were not very many. His sister had reached out at some point, asking him something about a pasta recipe, and his boss had texted him about covering a show. earlier that evening. Well, too late to respond to either of those. Ryan tossed his phone onto the bed and collapsed against his pillows again. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to think about what he was going to make for dinner. He wasn't very hungry, and his jaw really ached. Maybe he had been clenching it too hard earlier on the bus, or something like that. His phone

buzzed again. It was his boss, asking if he could be there in the morning instead of the afternoon. Ryan continued to ignore the texts. It was three in the morning. He was supposed to be asleep. He would answer it at 9 a.m. around his usual wake-up time, and text his boss something like, sorry, didn't see this earlier. Coming in for my regular shift soon. He laid in bed for another half hour before getting up to make some dinner. He kept it simple. Macaroni and cheese with some bacon bits stirred in. That countered his protein, right? He could not stop rubbing his jaw as he cooked. The more he tried to move it, the more he realized how much it hurt. The whole thing felt stiff. And when he tried to open it

and shift the bottom around, spikes of pain shot up into his temples and made him flinch. He started to wonder if he had cracked a tooth. That would be unfortunate, considering he and dental insurance were not even in the same orbit. Once his food was ready, Ryan sat down to eat it, but even the soft noodles were too much for his teeth. He ended up swallowing more than he chewed, and then dumped the rest into the trash when his stomach started protesting. He massaged the worst part of his jaw with the heel of his hand

as he walked into his bathroom to see if he could find some mouthwash. While he searched his cabinets, Ryan caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. The bottom right part of his jaw was not only swollen, but it looked downright red. He frowned and touched the most raised point. The skin was hard but tender, like there was a golf ball underneath it,

but when he pressed against it, the pain almost made him black out. Ryan's heart sped up behind his ribs, and he tried not to panic. Mouthwash was not going to help. Some garlic might, But he didn't have any of that. Then again, maybe he just needed some sleep.

Ryan turned off the bathroom light and went back to bed, grabbing his weighted blanket and covering his whole body. Only two hours later, Ryan was awake again. His whole face felt hot. There was sweat, gripping down his temples and soaking his ginger hair, and his blanket was stuck to his legs from all the excess moisture. His jaw throbbed, and the pain was worth. worse than any migraine he had ever had.

He peeled his blanket up and tossed it to the side before slowly creeping out of bed. Both sides of his face hurt now. Ryan could not touch any part of his jaw without feeling like he had been stabbed in the face. His sinuses hurt too, and all the pressure building up between his eyes made him want to smash his face into a wall until he passed out. He stumbled into the kitchen, rifling through a pink, plastic basket for any kind of pain He was almost out, but he found a few stray ibuprofen and grabbed them.

He could barely open his mouth to take them. His tongue felt thick behind his teeth. Ryan dropped the pills onto his tongue, and they stuck. He gagged on the bitter, uncoated taste and tried to wash them down immediately with water. The water came spilling out of his slackened jaw like a fountain and made a pool underneath his feet. He managed to get enough of it into his mouth to swallow the pills, but for half a second they lodged in his throat, and he almost threw up trying to choke them down.

Ryan held onto the wall as he trudged from the kitchen, back to the bathroom to take another look at himself in the mirror. Once he flipped on the light, he almost screamed at the sight of his own reflection. The whole bottom half of his face was puffy and red, like a fire truck. A red line made its way up from his jawline and followed a major vein to his temple. His first thought was infection, and then his second thought was, there is nothing I can do about it right now. His therapist had taught him something about radical acceptance.

Work on accepting the things that you cannot change. There was no bus running from the apartment complex to the hospital at five in the morning. And even if there was, he would probably pass out before he got there. Either that, or he would make it, but he would be in the ER for 16 hours of miss work. Then his boss would get really busy. His mind ran rampant with all the possibilities, but he was accepting his fate. All he could do was go back to bed. Ryan slept lightly for a few more hours.

Every time he would begin to get comfortable, his face would bump against his pillow, and then the pain would flare up again, always worse than before. Few times, he cried himself back to sleep from how badly it hurt. When his alarm went off, he hit the snooze button. When it went off the second or third time, he only had 30 minutes before he had to be at work. Ryan swore and jumped out of bed. That proved to be the wrong move. He was far too dizzy.

As soon as his feet made impact, his head spun, and he collapsed to the ground. Ryan reached out to grab his bedside table for support. He ended up hitting his arm against a corner and the sharp laminate sliced open a nice gash in his skin. Ryan hissed and pulled his arm close to his chest. Accident prone. That was what his sister had always called him. Only a little blood was rising to the surface when he checked to see how deep the cut went.

Ryan dabbed at it with the side of his pajama pants until he was satisfied that it was not going to start pouring. And then he stood up again. He moved slowly, but he had to get ready for work. He had at least three more texts from his boss that he did not intend to read until he was on the bus, headed into his shift. Miraculously, his jaw was not as tight and painful as it had been the night before. Ryan pushed his finger into his mouth, feeling around for a cavity or some other possible cause for his misery. He brushed his fingertip over his gum and ran across something hard.

Ryan frowned and opened his phone, tapping the front-facing camera. holding it up in front of him. He bared his teeth, peeling back his lips as much as possible. But he did not see anything. He jammed his finger back up underneath his top lip and slid along the gum line again. There were three bumps that he could feel, and then some along the bottom as well.

He snarled at his camera again, using his fingers to pull his lips out and up so that he could get a better look. Sure enough, peeking out from underneath the beach, pink gums were a row of ivory nodules. Canker sores, some kind of infection? Were his first few thoughts. Looking at the bumps made him shiver with revulsion.

Touching around them still hurt. But at least the swelling had gone down enough that he could probably work his customer service position just fine. The gash on his arm was already starting to itch. Ryan scratched it with his short, jagged nails, and they came back bloody. He realized he should probably wrap it up just in case. By the end of his shift, the gash on Ryan's arm was red and swollen.

He kept it wrapped up with some medical gauze, but the wound had started to weep. Now brown and red fluid was seeping through his white bandage, and a lot of customers were giving it looks. His boss tried to say something to him on his way out, but Ryan clocked out as soon as he could, grabbed his lunchbox, and bolted. If she really needed him, she would text him. When he got to his bus stop, Ryan threw himself down onto the nearest bench and pushed up his jacket sleeve. He tore the gauze off his arm and turned his head to get a good look at the gash.

The edges were so swollen that they stuck out about half an inch higher than the rest of his skin. The wound looked smaller than it was, with the puffy edges creeping towards the center to close it up. He grimaced and put his jacket sleeve back down over it, which hurt like a bitch to do. It was not quite as bad as the pain in his jaw, which had come back with the vengeance, but it was still really, really unpleasant. Dinner was an impossible task that Brian did not even attempt. He still had lunch left over from work that he had not been able to eat either. His stomach growled, but his head hurt too much for him to give it too much attention.

He shed his work uniform and kicked it moodily into a corner. Ryan went back to his bathroom and stood in front of his sink again. He grimaced and bared his teeth, pushing his fingers up against his lips and gums to try and get another look at what was going on. The ivory bumps were getting bigger, and there were even more of them now. Some of them looked like they were trying to come up out of the gums, forming little ridges that were sharp when he rubbed his fingertip against them. who were appearing on the top of his soft palate, too.

He felt them when he ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. His heart sped up with the realization. What was happening to him? Was he growing new teeth? That would be his worst nightmare. Ryan doused his mouth with some listerine, gritting his teeth through the agonizing burn, and then he put himself to bed. There's something else here now.

Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls scary as hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision comes at the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Next morning, the bumps were bigger, but the swelling had gone down significantly.

Now most of it was around the nodules where new teeth were coming in. I need to see a dentist, he told himself. Although, if the pain stopped, it was unlikely that he would take his own advice. The pain had been replaced by some sort of deep, root-level itching, which was almost worse. Ryan had no idea how he was supposed to alleviate it. He rubbed his gums with his fingertips, but that did nothing. He prodded it with his tongue. He grinded his back teeth, and he shifted his jaw from side to side.

Nothing helped. He smacked his jaw in the tenderest places, but the mild sting was not enough of a distraction either. Ryan continued to work his jaw, grinding his teeth, trying to get rid of the itch while he went to change clothes. He had slept in his jacket, and the sleeve was stuck to his wound when he went to peel it off. Ganging off the jacket was like ripping off a scab.

The gash from his bedside table was, was still a little swollen, but it was not as angry as the day before. It wept a little. The swelling itself looked odd, like little bumps instead of one solid edge. His morbid curiosity got the best of him. Ryan pressed his finger to the edge of the wound. Something hard was underneath the skin. Ryan's stomach did a flip. His jaw itched so terribly in a way he could not explain, and that was only slightly enough to distract him from the horror that made his stomach drop. He grabbed his nightstand drawer and yanked it open, sifting around inside until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a black ballpoint pen and stuck the pointed plastic cap in his mouth.

He started chewing on it, grinding it between his back teeth. The pressure relieved the itching in such a way that the relief was near orgasmic. Ryan continued to chew on the pen, switching it back to the edge in such a way that the relief was near orgasmic. Ryan continued to chew on the pen, switching it back and forth between both sides of his mouth as he inspected the wound again. The nodules ran all the way around the gash. When he pressed down on them, some of the torn skin pulled back, just enough to show him a glimpse of ivory. Ryan grabbed the pen in his mouth to stop him from inhaling it when he gasped. He choked anyway and found himself staring at the wound, wondering how that was possible.

He needed to go to the ER. Where else could he possibly grow teeth? Suddenly, everything hurt. His OCD was telling him that it was in every orifice. He jammed his fingers into his ears, plugging up the tunnels, and the sudden intrusion sent a jolt of pain into his skull. Ryan drew in another quick breath bordering on a panic attack. Was that it?

Would his ear swell? Would he grow teeth there too? His sinuses were killing him. Was that from teeth growing there too? Were they going to plug up his nasal cavities? Would they appear every time he cut himself? When would it end? He had to get on the bus.

He had to go to the hospital. Ryan put his jacket back on, to hide the hide hide the hideous wound from anyone who might be looking too hard on public transportation. He felt like a leper. He might as well have been. The only difference was that he was pretty sure something like Hyperdantia was not a contagion.

Ryan drew his tongue over the end of the pen and twisted it around in his mouth. He yanked the plastic cap off the pen and cracked it between his back molars. SCP 2450 is an infectious disease that causes severe hyperdantea in unusual areas of the body. The vector via which this area infects is unknown. Level 5 has suits have proven ineffective in preventing infection. The disease may affect a large number of mammalian species including rodents, dogs, and humans. Approximately 23% of subjects exposed to the area contract SCP 2450. Infection may also be passed to new hosts through bites which draw blood,

with an infection probability of 12%. Initial stage infection results in the patient presenting Hyperdantia, the eruption of extra teeth in various body orifices. The first orifice to be affected is usually the mouth, with teeth erupting from gums, palate, and phenomones. But once the disease has progressed, all bodily openings will be affected. The size of teeth grown varies, but tends to be proportional to the size of the opening. SCP 2450 teeth will grow at a rate roughly 12 times that of natural teeth,

taking typically between three weeks and nine months for a tooth to grow from germ to full root completion, depending on size. Teeth will grow in rows further and further back into the orifice as the disease progresses. disease progresses. Latter stage SCP 2450 infection will begin to occur once all natural bodily orifices have grown at least one full row of teeth. In this occasion, areas of the body which are not orifices but form a semi-closed shape, such the eyes or the interspaces between toes, will also begin to erupt teeth.

In addition, any apertures formed in the body by external trauma, such as cuts to the skin, will develop SCP-2450 teeth. Calcium and other minerals required to grow the teeth are taken from the body's natural stores, and, consequently, SCP-24-50 infection can result in osteoporosis and hypocalcemia. Patients may be kept alive despite this by administering calcium and mineral supplements, and will keep producing teeth indefinitely. The tooth-growing process has been described by patients as extremely, painful and similar to the teething pains experienced by children and young adults during the

development of normal teeth. Patients have described a strong desire to mitigate the sensation by biting or grinding affected teeth, and in the case of teeth formed in areas without the appropriate muscular or skeletal structure for biting, patients will rub or pound the teeth against solid objects. This action is to be discouraged in patients whose disease progression requires curtailment. as it will frequently lead to further skin lacerations and the creation of new teeth. It was due to this behavior that the ability to transfer infection through tooth-to-blood contact was discovered during an interview with an SCP 2450 patient.