The SCP Experience - The Tentacled God | SCP-2662

Episode Date: November 20, 2023

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-2662: The Tentacled God This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2662 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. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I walked out of the assessment, expecting to be surrounded by security guards or task force members, pointing their weapons at me, and yelling for me to get on the ground. But that didn't happen. All seemed normal in the hallway outside the lab, where they tested each SCP Foundation members' mind-affecting resistance scale. Anyone who worked at the site had to be tested at least once a month to make sure they weren't susceptible to the various SCPs with cognito-hazardous effects. As I walked down the hall, back to the research area where I worked alongside Dr. Marsh as a research assistant,

I was surprised not to be shaking. With each step away from the testing lab, I grew more confident. Somehow, I had passed the test, which meant that the next phase of the plan was a go. Hey, Charlie. A pretty female research assistant named Melanie said as we approached in the hallway. Hey, Mel. I said, smiling easily. You going for testing?

Yep, she said. It's that time. How'd it go? I shrugged. Fine, I guess. I wouldn't be here talking to you if not. I would be under guard, getting transferred to another site until any effects wore off. Melanie giggled and said,

Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, I'll see you later. Sounds good, I said. I watched her walk down the hall, thinking she would make an excellent human separator. Then I turned and continued on my way. As I reached the research lab, all my fears had dissipated, and I didn't think it was a coincidence that I was closer to SCP 2662 now. Its influence seemed to grow, the closer I got to its containment cell.

It was as if the entity was giving me confidence, whispering wordlessly in my ear about the new world it would usher into existence when we finally broke it free of its cell. Shimmering visions of power and wealth flitted through my head. Beautiful women at my beckon call, bowing down to me under a blood-red sky as I sat at the tentacle god's right hand, helping to rule the world. With the point of a finger, I could have my enemies executed.

I could have the bullies from high school strung up and disemboweled while I made their wives or girlfriends perform depraved sex acts on beef. I could lock my stepdad in a cage and only feed him gruel once a day. I could live in a mansion on the beach, with a Bugatti in the driveway and a Rolls Royce in the garage. And, best of all, I could be immortal. The tentacled God had that power. It told me so. There was nothing left to lose and everything to gain. But the time wasn't here yet.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is when we would strike. I didn't know who else would be in on it, but the tentacled God assured me that there were others, and that they would be ready to do their part when I did mine. With the confidence given to me by SCP 2662, I finished my shift in a pleasant days, daydreaming about the world to come, a world in which I would be important. I couldn't wait to get the power and respect I deserved. The next day at work started like any other, although I was so nervous I was shaking when I arrived in the parking lot.

By the time I got through security, I felt the tentacled God's presence with me. I strode through security without issue. When I got to the research lab, I greeted Dr. Marsh warmly and got to work. The hours passed like molasses as I waited for Dr. Marsh to leave for his first coffee break. I was barely able to focus on my work. Despite the strength I had been lent from the god, located one floor below. I wondered what it looked like. I had a good idea that it was 20 feet tall and radiated so much power that you could hardly look at it. I would find out soon enough.

I'm going for a coffee, Dr. Marsh said, startling me. You want one? No thanks, I said, smiling at the broad-shouldered man who walked around with an air of paternal hubris, his thick head of salt and pepper hair, lending him an appearance of wisdom and authority. Okay, be back in a few. I waited for him to leave before moving over to the emergency alarm on one wall. I just had to hope that the others were in position and ready to do their part. Otherwise, I would be screwed. I lifted the hard plastic casing and slapped the red button.

An alarm immediately started blaring as the containment breach warning sounded. I ran out of the room and down the hall as people started heading for the stairs to evacuate the floor. I passed by a couple of security officers going back the way I'd come. That way! I screamed. It's loose! The SCP I was assigned to was particularly nasty.

So I knew that the site director would likely pull security officers from around SCP 2662's containment cell. It was why the tentacled god had chosen me. I was sure. When I reached the staircase, I moved down instead of up. When a containment alarm was tripped, The standard operating procedure was for anyone on the floor of the SCP who'd escaped to go to the next floor closest to the exit. For my floor, that was up.

On the adjacent floors, everyone but security and task force personnel were supposed to go to special armored shelters and locked themselves in until the threat was over. So as I reached sub-level four, the hallway was mostly cleared already. A few stragglers were running down the hall toward the shelter, glancing at me strangely as I passed them, running the other way. I turned the corner and ran down another hallway until I reached the containment and the chamber.

I punched in the security number I had been given by SCP 2662 and stepped inside, stopping short as I encountered three security officers, all of them pointing their guns at me. I raised my hands, eyes wide, dreams of ruling the world alongside the tentacled God suddenly being crushed. Then I looked beyond them and noticed Melanie, the research assistant from my floor, lying on the ground, apparently unconscious.

The security officers all smiled at once, then lowered their weapons. Let's do this, a pointy-chinned officer said. His name tag read, Larson. The other two were Reginald and Payson. What's she doing here? I asked, pointing at Melanie. Larson looked at the unconscious woman. I thought she'd make a good human sacrifice. I remembered thinking the same thing yesterday.

It made sense. It wasn't like I normally went around thinking about people in terms of their potential for human sacrifice. That was the tentacled God's power. It was in our heads, and we were about to make it even more powerful. The security guards turned toward the containment cell door, which was windowless. I looked around for camera feeds but saw none. I found this strange, seeing as how most SCPs were monitored 24-7 by cameras. I also noted the lack of heavy-duty security features on the door.

Still, visions of power and riches danced in my head, pushing these minor concerns aside as Larson stepped up and opened the cell door. He stepped inside while Reginald and Pason grabbed Melanie by her arms and dragged her limp body into the cell. I moved in behind them, looking around the interior of the cell. There was a long bed, probably 15 feet long and 10 feet wide, in one corner neatly made. Across from the bed,

it was a desk with a large gaming computer on it, and a rather large chair pushed under the oversized desk. There were posters on the walls for brands I didn't recognize. The only poster I did recognize was for the Steam Gaming Platform. Lazzang sur-gely, puissance-moined, for example. We're like to dojo. Prere to play the pleasure with the Ojo.

The casino in-line that proposes the more recent machines-assioned machines-assou and of the games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours gratuys on Big Bas Bonanza. Without exigance of mis, and with the payment instantane. Hey, I've got to win.

Woo-hoo! Sontire the pleasure. Play-O-Joe. Dice 8-And plus. 1st,000, expanse in Ontario. 50 tours gratuys on the machine

to payne as soon. Deppesneumneum of 10 dollars. Veiliehurted to be responsible. The conditions apply for place. There was a dresser and a huge

comfortable looking chair with a reading lamp in one corner. At the back of the cell there was a closed door. Larson ran up to the door and knocked on it. There's no time to waste, my lord, he said.

We must go now. No way. A voice said from inside. It was not the booming voice of a god. In fact, it didn't even sound like the voice of a man. It sounded like a teenager. You don't have to worry, my lord, Larson said. We have an escape plan.

We're here to set you free so you can take over as the rightful ruler of the world. I said, go away. The voice called again. I don't want to rule anything. Larson and his two companions seemed undeterred by this, but I was starting to have my doubts. Maybe we had the wrong cell. We'll have to do the ritual here, Larson said, turning away from the door.

This is a test. He's doubting our resolve. He thinks we're not worthy. We have no choice but to do it here. Okay, Reginald said, lying Melanie on her back in the middle of the floor. He and Payson spread her arms and, legs apart, so her body made an X. Then all three of them went about taking off their vests, gear, and uniforms. I stood in the corner, staring, thoughts oscillating between visions of power

and the wrongness of the situation. It was like my mind was a malfunctioning TV, changing between two very different channels. What are you doing out there? The voice called from the bathroom. You better not be doing some kind of blood ritual. I forbid it. We can feel your true intentions. Larson called out in a passionate tremble as he pulled his underwear off. Our resolve is strong. You will not fool us with this false voice. I heard the voice from the bathroom mumble something like... God damn it!

The three security guards, now naked, stood around Melanie. Larson had a pocket knife, which he used to cut his left hand open before handing the tool off to Reginald, who did the same before passing it to Payson. The three nude men fell to their knees and started painting the floor around Melanie. with their blood. Drawing designs that had flashed in my head ever since SCP 2662 had made its way into my mind. The door at the back of the room opened a crack, but the lights were off inside, so I could only see the barest glimpse of a mottled, greenish face with squirming tentacles

hanging down where the nose and mouth should have been. Wide black eyes glanced at the bloody mess on the floor before the face disappeared back into the darkness. With their drawings done, and stood up again and quickly embraced, rubbing each other with blood as they squirmed together in a grunting tangle of limbs. Oh, wow, I said, averting my eyes. This was something I hadn't seen flash in my mind. When one of them cried out in pain, I looked up to see that Larson had stabbed Payson in the abdomen with the pocket knife. Pason pulled the blade out and stabbed Reginald with it. Something's wrong, Larson said suddenly. It's not working.

He glanced around, looking down at Melanie and then up at me. His eyes widening as though he'd forgotten I was there. What are you doing? He cried. Get your clothes off and get over here. I put my hands up. No, thanks. I mean, I don't have a problem with it.

It's just not my thing. All three men looked at me with fire in their eyes. They separated, and Larson quickly grabbed his gun from among his equipment, leveling the weapon at me. If you're not with us, you must die, he said, slipping his finger into the trigger guard. I stepped back and closed my eyes on reflex as he pulled the trigger. The gun fired, and I flinched, sure that I'd been shot. But I felt nothing.

I guess it was the adrenaline dulling the pain momentarily. Then I heard a choking sound and opened my eyes. Too long, green-gray tentacles snaked out of the darkness beyond the now-open door at the back of the room. One of them had Larson by the neck, lifting him off the floor. The other was wrapped around his right hand and the gun yelled. The one around his hand yanked, snapping his wrist. Larson tried to scream out, but he couldn't, thanks to the tentacle around his neck.

The creature threw him headfirst into the wall, and Larson fell to the floor with a crushed skull. Reginald and Pason stared as the creature stepped out into the light. It was 13 feet tall, with mottled green-gray skin. It was humanoid in appearance, with two arms and two legs. A large towel was wrapped around its waist, and its skin was dotted with moisture. The head that I had glimpsed earlier was horrifically gruesome in the light, with small tentacles and wide squid eyes. But my vision was drawn to the much larger tentacles coming out of its back.

There were at least 20 of them, and they undulated menacingly as the creature stepped into the room. You guys suck! The creature said in that teenage boy voice, Usurper! Reginald yelled, lunging at the creature with a pocket knife in one hand. Several of the large tentacles whipped out, moving almost too fast for me to see what exactly they were doing. In a moment, Reginald's arms were ripped off. Blood sprayed everywhere as the man screamed. Payson lunged for the creature, who swung the blood-spewing arms around,

smacking Payson in the face with one and the crotch with the other. The man went down next to his claspoled. clothes and equipment, quickly reaching for his gun. The creature stepped over and, with one large foot, stomped on Payson's rib cage. The sound of his bones shattering was something I'll never forget. Blood shot out of his mouth, splattering the creature's leg as his inside's rupture. A moment later, Payson was dead. The creature stepped back and looked down at its body.

It was splashed with blood. Even the massive white towel wrapped around its waist was now more crimson than ivory. I just got out of the shower, it said. Stupid blood cults? And why do they always have to be naked? I didn't think it was talking to me, but I shrugged anyway. That seemed to catch its attention. It looked up at me and narrowed its black eyes.

You're not going to do anything weird, are you? You seem all right for some reason. Maybe you're slightly more resistant to my powers or something. So it is you. You're the tentacled god? I asked. Oh, no God, dude, but I am tentacled. Obviously.

I can't help it if I broadcast brainwashing messages. Really, if I could stop it, I would. That's why I'm here, after all. I was hoping you people could find a way to stop it, or at least, to minimize its damage. But I guess that hasn't worked too well, has it? I looked around at the three dead men. I guess not.

Melanie stirred on the floor. S.C. 2662 and I looked dead. down at her. Like the creature, she was covered in blood. Her eyes opened and she sat up dazed and looked around, and she screamed. SCP 2662 is a cognito-hazardous entity approximately 13 feet tall and weighing 440 pounds. It's vaguely humanoid in shape, with approximately 20 additional muscular hydrostats of similar structure to cephalopod limbs attached to its back. These limbs are fully functional and allow the entity to perform up to 10 different tasks at once.

SCP 2662's primary anomalous effect only occurs after long-term repeated exposure. Subjects within the vicinity of the entity for a period of six months or longer are at risk of becoming acutely aware of the entity's wants or needs and are compelled to fulfill them. They may also suffer from quasi-psychotic episodes when under stress. SCP 2662's secondary anomalous effect is the spontaneous generation of religious followings at an approximate rate of at least once a month. This generation is involuntary and causes the entity notable distress.

Religious groups generated by SCP 2662 usually focus on attempting to break into its containment unit in order to perform various rituals that are violent and or sexual in nature.