The SCP Experience - The Skin Stealer | SCP-3114

Episode Date: July 25, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-3114: The Skin Stealer This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3114, 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

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DePo Minimimams of $1 responsible. The conditions apply. The apartment door is open three or four inches. I can hear a man grunting and what sounds like a metal baseball bat hitting flesh. I have my department issued Glock 22 out. My index finger, braced just above the trigger guard. I know backup is on the way, but I don't have to wait. It sounds like someone is getting beaten to death with a baseball bat. And if I'm weight, it could mean the difference between life and death. Police officer.

I call into the apartment. I'm coming in. I wait a second to see if the grunting and hitting sounds stop. They don't. The metallic thunk of the baseball bat is unmistakable now that I'm by the door. With my back to the wall, I reach out and shove the apartment door open with my left hand, then duck back. I take a breath and then move, leading with my gun into the apartment.

There's a short hallway, beyond which the unit opens up with the kitchen on the right, and a living room on the left. I make sure there's no one in the kitchen before turning my attention to the living room. There's a huge white man standing splay-legged in the middle of the room, between the couch and the wall-mounted television. He's wearing only basketball shorts.

There's a deformed body lying on the ground at his feet. It looks like a woman, but it's hard to tell. The skin seems loose. There's blood all over the place, and the flesh is damaged from the blunt force trauma, I assume. The big man brings the baseball bat over his shaved head, his bodybuilder muscles tensing as he brings the bat down again,

crashing it into the mess of skin and bones lying on the floor. As he does this, I catch a glimpse of his face and see that he's crying. Tears streamed down his flushed face, and his features are locked in a sneer. Put the bat down now, the command, pointing my gun at him. The man glances up at me between swings, There's fear in his eyes. Immense fear.

I immediately think he's on drugs, or has had a psychotic break, or both. They seem to go hand in hand. There's no way the person he's hitting is still alive, but I need to defuse the situation. I need to get him to calm down and see if there's anyone else in the place who might be injured. Put the bat down now, or I will fire! He looks up at me again as he brings the bat up for another crushing blow. I can't. He screams, sounding truly afraid.

It's still alive. Thunk. I move forward, toward the back of the couch. Stop it or step away or I will shoot you. Something catches my eye at the foot of the couch. Something I couldn't see before because of my angle. It's a pile of meat, bones, and organs, glistening wetly. A bloody human skull grins up at me.

The skin has been ripped. off and the body dismantled right there on the floor in front of the couch. Blood soaks the tan carpeting and sits in droplets on the leather couch. Disgust and anger vie for control inside my body as I bring my full attention back to the man. I put my finger inside the trigger guard. I've won him three times and he hasn't complied. He has a weapon.

He has clearly killed two people. It'll be a good shot. I press my finger against the trigger. He seems to sense the change in me. He has the bat up for another swing, but he stops. Turning to look at me, his face, still a mess of sorrow and fear. Okay, he says, bringing the bat down. Just shoot it if it gets up, it's not dead.

The ramblings of a madman. He drops the bat gently to the floor and raises his hands. Step over here around the couch, I tell him. He looks at the strange, deformed body at his head. feet one last time, then moves around it, stepping toward the side of the couch. I catch movement behind him. It's nearly impossible that the person he was beating is still alive, so I assume the movement is a post-mortem spasm, but I quickly realize I'm wrong. The person sits up stiffly, the badly damaged skin, seeming to sag like it's no longer attached to anything.

It reaches up with two bloody, skeletal hands and grips the skin hanging from its face. pulling it off like a rubber mask. An eyeless skull sits underneath. I stare, speechless, as the skull turns to look past the big man at me. The man notices this and spins around. He cries out and lunges for the bat, but the skeleton moves quickly,

jumping out of the gruesome skin suit, grabbing the man by the back of the neck. It's the only thing that comes to my stuttering mind. The skeleton shifts its grip, lifting the big man off the floor with one hand. I don't know what else to do but to try shooting the thing. But before I can, the skeleton throws the man at me like he's a hollow mannequin. The guy slams into me, sending me crashing back into a dividing wall between the kitchen and living room.

I hit my head on the wall, and things go blurry as I crumple to the ground. Half the big man's bulk coming to rest on me, pinning me down. I feel the weight pulled off of me, and I look through unfocused eyes up at the skeleton. Once again, it's lifting the big man by the neck. It takes me a moment to figure out that my gun is no longer in my hand. I lost it when the bodybuilder hit me. I try to stand up, but my muscles don't want to cooperate, and my head spins as I lift it.

A crunching, choking sound fills the apartment, and I'm able to look up enough to see the skeleton collapsing the bodybuilder's throat. After the big man's body stops twitching on the choking end, and the choking ends. The skeleton lets him fall to the floor. It rolls him over onto his face and pierces the skin at the base of his skull with one bony finger. I redouble my efforts to get up and prop myself up on my right arm. Using the wall to help me, I get shakily to my feet. The skeleton has now ripped open the bodybuilder's skin down the back of his neck. It digs underneath the skin with its skeletal hand, working at removing something.

My vision is still unsteady, but I can't immediately locate my gun. Without any muscle or skin, I know my taser gun won't work on the thing. So I pull out my telescoping baton and whip it to its full length. I step toward the skeleton on rubbery legs. It's about ten feet away. As I approach, the thing yanks hard, pulling the big man's skull out of his skin. It holds onto his spine just below the skull with one hand. With the other, it presses down on the place where the spine meets the back.

A terrible ripping sound emanates as the skeleton separates the neck and skull from the rest of the spine. The gorge rises in my throat at this ungodly sight, but I step forward anyway, raising my baton. The skeleton moves fast, hanging onto the spine and whipping the bloody skull at my face like it's a medieval mace. With bone-crunching impact, skull meets skull. and my head whips sideways. The world goes black before I even hit the ground. My head throbs as consciousness comes back to me. A flash of pain.

I push off the ground, looking over to see a pile of bones and muscles and organs next to where the big man went down. I glance around the room and then lock my gaze on a hideous approximation of a human standing near the front door. It's clearly the skeleton, wearing the big man's skin,

There are little bloody rips and holes all over the place. The lack of muscles and the sheer size of the man's skin causes it to sag like someone who has just undergone serious, full-body liposuction. The skeleton's black eye sockets peer out from between torn eyelids. Its teeth grin out from behind sagging lips. It tilts its head as it looks at me. Then it walks towards me. The skin rippling wetly.

I scramble up, grabbing my baton off the ground. The skeleton stops a couple of feet in front of me. It extends a hand as if for a handshake. What are you? I ask and bewildered disgust. The thing looks at me for a moment. Then it moves its jaw three times, as if mimicking me. Screw this, I say, lashing out with my baton.

The weapon bounces off its head, damaging the skin there. The creature puts back. both hands to its head as though I heard it. Turning around, it runs out of the apartment. Shit, I say, looking around for my weapon. I spotted in the corner and grab it up as quickly as I can. On my way out of the apartment, I noticed the baseball bat on the floor in the living room. After a quick mental comparison, I skirt the couch and grab it, leaving my baton.

I run down to the first floor and out through the empty lobby, noticing smears of blood on the floor and lobby doors. It's nearly midnight, and the streets are reasonably empty in this part of town. Looking left down the street, I spot the thing running down toward the lights of a gas station at the corner. I'm in my patrol car and speeding down the street with the lights on before it's halfway there. The thing is fast, but not as fast as my Ford interceptor. I pick up my radio. Unit 2582 in pursuit of a suspect going south on Pearl toward Willard.

I need immediate backup. Please acknowledge. Sorry for the delay, 2582. Dispatch says. Unit 2620 is on the way. Please describe the suspect. It's a white male, naked, who looks like his skin is falling off.

I say, not daring to tell them it's a skeleton wearing human skin. They think it was a joke. It's extremely dangerous. I finish. Uh, copy 2582. Help is on the way. I catch up with the skin-wearing skeleton

just as it reaches the gas station driveway. I swerve right, slamming into the thing, with the front of my SUV. It goes down, and I crunch over it before slamming the vehicle into park and jumping out with the baseball bat in my left hand. I pull out my gun with my right. It's on its knees, getting up as I round the back of the vehicle.

I fire my weapon at point-blank range, emptying all 15 bullets into it as it jerks with each shot. Once the gun is empty, it looks down at all the holes in its skin, then back up at me. I can clearly see that some of its bones are now broken, but that doesn't stop it from standing up. I dropped the gun and clutch the baseball bat in both hands, slamming the bat into the thing's head rattles my bones, but it also forces the thing back to the ground. So I hit it again and again. Everything the big man said now makes sense, why he first refused to stop hitting it. Whatever it is, it came into his house,

and killed his roommate or wife or girlfriend and put on her skin before he got to it with the baseball bat. Brakes screech behind me as another police cruiser pulls up, Unit 2620. I hear the door open and footsteps approaching, but I don't stop hitting the thing. I can't. What the hell are you doing, Buckley? A voice calls. I know the guy well. His name is Perez. He's a good cop. This thing? I say, gasping. It's alive. I can't stop hitting it. It killed two people. Buckley, he's dead. Did you hit him with your car? Jesus, man.

I shake my head. It's not dead. I'm telling you, Colin Swat or the FBI or the fucking military. Do something. Buckley, Perez says. There's people watching, man. Behind us at the gas station. Just stop, man. Or I'll have to stop you. No, please believe me, Perez. It's not dead. I can't stop. This is your last warning, man. I don't want to have to tase you.

My arms are getting tired, but I can't stop. It'll kill someone else and rip their bones out. Please, just give me a minute to think, I say between hits. Perez steps around into my line of sight. He has his taser gun pointed at me. Just one minute, I said, swinging the bat down again. But he doesn't give me a minute. The sharp probes from the taser gun punch into my skin.

A paralyzing pain follows as my muscle. lock up, I fall to the ground next to the bloody, deformed skin, and the skeleton underneath. The skeleton sits up, the skin sliding off it like shredded clothing. What the hell? Perez says. The skeleton's dark eye sockets fix on me. SCP 3114 is an animate human skeleton. Though it has no articulation or connective tissue, its individual bones remain in place as they would in a human body. Bones can be pulled out of position, but quickly return to their correct position when there is no longer an outside force acting on them. Though SCP 3114 is made of similar minerals as human bone, it is much denser and stronger, requiring more than three times as much force to break.

There is no current explanation for SCP 3114's ability to move. Its observed range of motion is similar to a healthy adult females. It is also much stronger than any human, able to lift at least 550 pounds with one arm, and has a measured grip strength of 595 pounds. Its maximum observed foot speed is 37 miles per hour. SCP 3114 is able to react to visual stimuli, with an apparent field of view similar to humans. However, it does not react to sound or smell. It responds to touch, but it is difficult to feel.

it is difficult to test its sensitivity. SCP 3114 is extremely aggressive. When, in its normal state, it immediately attempts to attack any human or other biological humanoid that comes into its line of sight. If it procures a skin and manages to wear the skin without ripping it apart, it will turn docile until the skin falls apart

or becomes too damaged to wear. At this point, SCP 3114 will seek out of it. another suit of skin to wear.