The SCP Experience - The Humanoid of Indeterminate Gender and Variable Physical Features | SCP-817

Episode Date: January 17, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-817: The humanoid of indeterminate gender and variable physical features Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-817, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ 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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And profite. Vyaray, the way that we love. Looking into the containment cell at the creature, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for it. The material I had been given told me that SEP 817 had once been a young man of Asian descent, back before whatever happened to turn him into this thing. The reading material was vague on that,

and when SEP Foundation case files were light on information, it meant one of two things. Either they didn't know. Or they didn't want grunts like me to know. Either way, I'd been around long enough to know that some mysteries couldn't be solved. Trying was just a waste of energy. Besides, I wasn't here to cure the guy. Even if there was a cure, it would be above my pay grade.

No, I was here to make sure what the guy was now never escaped. I was here to secure, contain, and protect. My new team leader, Lawrence Cooper, stood next to me at the observation window, looking in at the thing. Ain't it a bute? he said in his jovial way. Every time I see the thing, I just want to take it home to meet my mother. I didn't feel like joking just then. I never did when seeing a particularly messed up SCP for the first time. But I went along to get along.

My heart's all a flutter, I said, matching his sarcastic. tone. Lawrence chuckled. His deep, raspy voice, making him sound like some sort of malfunctioning machinery. Oh, he said, slapping me on the shoulder. Here we go. I saw a metal panel on the right side of the room open up. Its mechanical hum barely audible from where we were in the observation room. The moving panel revealed a dark square in the wall. Then, a large platter of cooked meat slid out of the darkness and into the bright room, pushed by a mechanical arm. The arm released the platter on the floor and retreated back into the wall. The panel closed.

I turned my attention to the creature, which had noticed the meat. It stood in the corner of the room, its body covered by what looked like thin, segmented polymer sheets. But I knew better. I'd read the material. It moved away from the corner. stepping forward and removing the sheets, which were actually two bat-like wings. When you ignored the huge wings, its body looked somewhat humanoid.

Its legs were shorter than a normal human and ended in two stubby feet, each with three large toes. The creature's head also looked vaguely human, underneath the gruesome cracked skin like that of a healing burn victim. Unlike a bat, it didn't have any fingers with which to grip anything, so I watched it closely, curious to see how we would eat the meat. After taking two steps away from the wall and getting its wings out to their full span, SCP 817 leaped through the air toward the platter of food. As it fell toward the floor, it slowed, thanks to its wings, and came to rest gently next to the meat.

The creature's head came forward, thrusting impossibly far on its neck. Its jaws seemed to dislocate. bottom of its mouth splitting open at the middle of the chin and separating. A thick flap of skin under its chin stretched taut and its spindly tongue folded back into its mouth. The flap of skin made a kind of shovel that picked up large slabs of the beef as its head came forward. Then the two sides of its bottom jaw came together around the meat, gripping them and pushing them up as the tongue came down, moving deftly while its mouth closed fully. It seemed to chew for only a few seconds before swallowing

and then repeating the whole process again and again until the meat was gone. Pounds of meat, eaten and under a minute. Doesn't that make you hungry, Jonesy? Lawrence Cooper said, already giving me the nickname Jonesy for my last name, Jones. Starving, I said, although I was anything but. The creature went back to its corner once it was done eating. The panel opened up in the wall again.

and the mechanical arm retrieved the empty platter. After a moment, Cooper spoke again. You think this version is bad. You should have been here to see the last thing it was. I nodded. I'd read about all the metamorphoses SCP 817 had gone through, even seeing pictures and videos of them.

Each transformation brought new problems and required new solutions for when it would try to escape, which it always did at some point. How long does it usually stay in one form? I asked, although I already knew the answer. Asking people questions is a good way to engage them, make them feel good. I read that in a book once. Usually two or three months, Cooper said.

But you already knew that, didn't you? He smiled. Guilty, I said, smiling back. I was going to fit in well here. Cooper introduced me to the rest of the team when shift change came around. There were six of us total, including me and Cooper. I shook hands and introduced myself, making a point to remember everyone's name, even though we all wore cloth nameplates sewn into our uniforms. This wasn't my first SCP security team, and it wouldn't be my last.

Weeks went by, I got acclimated, found my routine, and fell into an easy working relationship with the other members of my team. But one thing I'd learned in working for the SCP Foundation is that nothing stays calm for long. And this job was no exception. Halfway through the third Friday of my new assignment, Dr. Emroll came into the observation room and addressed me and Patel, my shift partner. We're going to cut SCP 817's food intake in half today, the big-boned, bespectacled man said,

looking down at his clipboard. I was about to object, but, being the new guy, I felt it wasn't my place. Patel saved me by doing it himself. You're kidding, right, Doc? He said. You're supposed to give us advanced warning for this kind of stuff. Dr. Emerald looked up from his clipboard, tilting his head to look over his glasses.

This is advanced warning. Feeding time isn't for another hour. Why half? What's going on? We need some information here, Doc. To, you know, do our jobs. Adel said. Emerald sighed.

Look, as far as we can tell, 817 is storing way more energy than a it's using. And calories? You know what calories are, don't you? Calories are energy. So if we reduce the calorie intake, we reduce the energy at stores. Maybe it will burn off some of that energy with a calorie deficit. Sounds like a diet plan, Patel said, smiling. I think it looks pretty thin to me. I can honestly say its wings don't make it look fat. This is why I don't like telling you guys stuff, Dr. Emerald said. It's all a big joke. How much energy does it save? I asked. According to my calculations, around 90%.

90%. Fattel said. Holy cow, where does it all go? That's the question, isn't it? Dr. Emerald said, turning to leave. Call your people in. It's about time for a metamorphosis anyway. And I'm sure the change in food will speed that along.

So be ready. One hour. One hour later, Patel and I stood by the observation window. Waiting for the panel to open in the wall, Cooper stood behind us with Whitlock, a quiet, dark man who usually had the night shift with Cooper. The other two weren't picking up their phones. It was their day off, so I couldn't blame them. Dr. Emerald had put us in a bad spot by not giving us more warning.

The good doctor walked in with his clipboard. Excuse me, he said, shouldering me out of the way so he could have a better view of the containment room. The wall panel slid open and delivered the place. ladder of meat. Only half as much as every other day this time. 817 didn't seem to notice. It took two steps away from the wall, unfurled its wings, and did its jump glide to the meal. Its mouth split open again, and it gobbled up the meat in a way I was only just getting used to. When it was done, it sniffed at the plate and then looked up at the observation window. It couldn't see us. The glass was reflective on the inside. But it was

smart enough to know we were there. It shrieked and jumped toward the window, slamming into it with its chest. The glass was reinforced, but the impact still made me jump. I put a hand down onto my foundation-issue pistol in my holster, just for reassurance. Do not retrieve the platter. Not yet. Dr. Emerald said. I realized he was talking into an earpiece. 817 went to the opposite side of the room and then launched itself at the window again.

Then it kicked the hard plastic platter against the wall. As it turned around to head back to the other side of the room, I saw the first sign that it was changing. On its bony back, there was a patch of pale skin that stood out against the dark, plastic-like skin covering most of its body. The creature shrieked again and tried to launch itself at the window, but it fell short. Its wings were shrinking. Pale splotches were now all over 817's body, and they were spreading.

Are those fingers on his back? Patel said, I leaned forward, squinting, and saw that they were, in fact, fingers. They emerged from a spot on its back, followed by a hand. Similar things were happening all over the creature's body while it ran around the cell, screaming. But they weren't all hands. A foot emerged from its shoulder and another from its knee. A bald head with male features grew out of its other shoulder. A bald head with female features emerged from its side.

left side as the wing there disappeared. As these limbs and heads emerged, the creature expanded. Its original head remained where it was, screaming and screaming. Each new head that came out also started screaming. Hands extended out to undulating arms and feet came out to kicking legs. The end result was a writhing, screaming mass of heads, legs, and feet that stumbled around the room. But even when there was no more room for body parts to appear,

817 continued to grow. Doc? Cooper said. What's your call? I think we should subdue this thing. Good God! Dr. Emerald said. This is incredible.

It keeps growing. Patel said, his voice high. It's not going to fit in the room before we let it go any longer. Don't be so dramatic. Dr. Emerald said, leaning over the control panel below the observation window. He flipped a switch and pressed a button. Thick streams of yellow-white gathers. started pouring into the room from nozzles in the ceiling.

This should do it? he said. It's still screaming, I said. How long does it take? Doc ignored me, flipping the switch and pressing the button again, pouring more gas into the room. He was sweating. Stop! Cooper said. You're killing our visibility!

It was true. There was so much gas in the room we couldn't see the creature anymore. This will work, Dr. Emerald said. It will work. The intense screaming stopped all at once. I breathed a sigh of relief. See? Emeril said. It worked.

The blob of body parts that was 817 emerged from the yellow-white smoke like a shot, slamming into the observation window so hard that the entire frame broke out of the thick concrete wall. I turned, trying to move out of the way, but the left corner of the window slammed into me as it smashed into the observation room, sending me flying into the equipment against the wall behind me.

Since Dr. Emerald was in the middle of the observation window, he took the brunt of the impact, the concrete-laden frame slamming into his head at the same time it hit me in the shoulder. Amid the chaos, I wasn't sure what had happened to anyone else until I got my bearings. Gas poured through the jagged concrete rectangle, where the window had once been. Knowing it would knock me unconscious,

I scrambled away on the floor. My right arm dislocated from the window, located from the impact of the window frame. As I reached the doorway, the other side of the room was obscured by gas, but I could see the writhing body parts of 817 making their way through the gap and into the observation room. Hands gripped me under my shoulders. I cried out in pain as Cooper dragged me into the hallway.

Sorry, bud, he said. Whitlock pulled the door shut as soon as my feet were clear. Wait, I said. Patel! Whitlock and Cooper both shook their heads. Clacks and alarms started going off, and I knew we'd be sealed into the section if we didn't move fast. I got to my feet, and Cooper asked me if I could walk. I said I could.

He and Whitlock started running down the hallway. I turned to follow, but risked a glance through the small glass window and the door to the observation room. The mass of 8.17 was in the middle of the room. Two hands held Dr. Emerald severed arm to one of the dozen or so heads on its body. As I watched, the bald female head took a bite out of the arm, chewing it greedily. Another pair of hands and another head were busy working on one of Patel's legs. All the hands and heads I could see were engrossed in their meals. Breathing through my nose and trying not to vomit, I ran down the hallway after Cooper and Whitlock,

holding my dislocated right arm to my body so it wouldn't swing as I moved. We got on the other side of the big reinforced doors before they closed and sealed the section. Christ, Cooper said, sitting down against the wall. Let that be a lesson. Never fuck with a man's food. Damn, I said, ignoring Cooper's poor attempted humor. I liked Patel. He was a good guy. You know? Whitlock said, bending down with his hands on his knees. This job kind of sucks. I couldn't disagree with him. Not right then.

SCP 817 is a humanoid of indeterminate gender and variable physical features, although genetic testing suggests it was once a young Asian male. SCP 817 periodically undergoes radical metamorphic changes to its physiology. The delay between metamorphic events varies, but is usually about two to three months. These shifts and the physiological abnormalities produced cause SCP 817 enormous pain. enormous pain. However, it seems to suffer no actual damage to its body systems. Additionally, SCP 817 seems to be incapable of deliberately injuring itself. SCP 817 is mentally unstable, displaying severe psychotic symptoms. During psychotic episodes,

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