The SCP Experience - The Velvet Latte | SCP-254

Episode Date: June 18, 2025

When an old “Employee of the Month” plaque is rediscovered and hung in a cozy café, a flawless new coworker named Charlotte mysteriously appears—charming, skilled, and universally adored. But as the plaque’s sinister SCP-254 properties take hold, Charlotte’s perfection curdles into obsession, and anyone who threatens her place begins to disappear. This story was derived from ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-254⁠⁠ 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. #scp #thescpexperience #scpfoundation Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Oliver bounded up the stairs and entered the kitchen holding a wooden object. I glanced at him with a raised brow. It's a plaque. It's an employee of the month plaque. We don't even do that here. My dad used to hang this up in the cafe before, you know. Oh, that explained his excitement. Oliver's dad used to own the cafe before it burned down, killing everyone in size.

I died. Oliver reopened it in his dad's memory a few years ago, and I was his first hire. We'd grown close, and the cafe had been doing very well. It was a small business with only four employees apart from Oliver, so there wasn't really a need for an employee of the month, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I have no idea how this survived, but I'm going to put it up. I nodded and smiled as he practically skipped to the seating area. I didn't like the idea of highlighting one employee over another, especially as I was already the manager. The last thing we needed was more hierarchy, or, heaven forbid, competition. Not that I was afraid for my job, of course.

I was the best baker out of all of us, and the customers loved me. Open it in ten! Oliver shouted, just as the back door opened and Charlotte walked in. Morning, Tom. She said overly brightly. I threw a good morning over my shoulder as I pulled a tray of fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven. Yum! She inhaled, her nostrils widening dramatically.

Those smell delicious. A surge of pride ran through me as I looked at the perfectly round rolls. I'd finally perfected the recipe, and our customers had been raving about them ever since. Oliver even changed the name on the menu to Tom's cinnamon buns. I still got a thrill when I saw my name on the chocolate. chalkboard. How'd you get so good at baking anyway? Charlotte asked. Did your mom teach you? I stiffened at the mention of my mother and took my time icing the rolls so I didn't have to look at Charlotte. Not my mom, no. I actually taught myself. Baking is sort of my happy place. You must love

this job then. I smiled. I do. I really do. We continued working in silence, bustling back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen until the cafe officially opened at 9 o'clock. Charlotte worked the register while I continued preparing more cookie dough for the afternoon batch. I could hear Oliver schmoozing the customers as they enjoyed their morning coffee and biscuits. His charming personality perfectly suited him to the job.

We were a well-oiled machine, and it was no wonder the cafe was on the city's list of best coffee places. The atmosphere both in the kitchen and the seating area was immaculate. At first, customers came to show support after what happened to Oliver's dad. But they kept coming after that, and we'd attracted lots of new ones. Things were going very well for the velvet latte. Very well indeed. I was startled when the back door burst open.

I nearly dropped the cookie sheet. Val whooshed in with a fresh breeze. Sorry, I'm late. I glanced at the clock. The morning shift started 15 minutes ago. But between Oliver, Charlotte and me, we were easily keeping up with the orders. Are you sure you're on the roster this morning? We don't usually need more than three people for this shift.

She frowned. Who's working in the register? Charlotte. She peeked around the corner and spotted the redhead. Oh, let me check again. She clucked her tongue as she looked at the whiteboard. That's weird. What is it?

There seems to be a problem with the schedule. Almost every shift has four people, even the afternoon ones. What? I slammed the door oven closed and placed the cookie sheet on the counter. I can't be right. I made the schedule myself. But Val wasn't mistaken. I had scheduled too many people in every single shift that week. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

I don't know how I screwed this up so bad. Val? What are you doing here? Oliver entered the kitchen with a platter of dirty dishes. They clanked as he set them down, and I hurried over to help load them into the dishwasher. I avoided his gaze as I explained my mistake. That's okay. No arm done. I'll just readjust the roster and let everyone know their new shifts.

Thanks, Oliver. What about me? Val crossed her arms and looked between the two of us. Well, since you're already here, I guess I'll just take the morning off. Oliver said, removing his apron and smiling at her. Relief and shame burned in my stomach. Oliver knew how much Val needed this job.

We all did. If she lost even one shift, she might miss out on rent that month. Her parents threw her out when she insisted on going to art school, and she worked her ass off to pay for housing and tuition. Sending her home would have been a major blow. And Oliver was one of the nicest people I'd ever met. He would gladly give up his shift for her sake. He would have done it for anybody.

That's just who he was. Sometimes I thought he was too nice, but I never told him so. Val took over for Oliver, and the morning resumed as usual. The employee of the month plaque was already hanging behind the counter, and I was startled to find a photo of Charlotte above it. When had that happened? It seemed odd that Oliver would fill the picture frame so soon, not to mention in the middle of the month,

unless Charlotte had put it here herself. I debated asking her about it, but decided to talk to Oliver about it first. He pulled me aside later that afternoon. Can we talk in my office? I nodded, assuming you wanted to talk about the photo. He shut the door behind us and turned to me with a grave look on his face.

We need to fire someone. What? My jaw dropped. What are you talking about? He shook his head, his eyes full of confusion and grief. I don't know how this happened, but we have too many employees. I can't give everyone enough shifts. My only option is to offer everyone part-time work or get rid of someone.

Part-time won't be enough. I know. He sank into the chair behind the desk and put his head in his hands. I looked at the roster on his desk, still full of too many names, and I realized he was right. Don't tell anyone yet. His words were muffled as he spoke through his fingers. I'm going to wait until the end of the week to evaluate everyone's performance.

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. Speaking of which, he glanced up at me between his hands. What? Did you, um, choose an employee of the month yet? That's what you're concerned about right now? I winced at the disbelief in his sense. tone. No, I just... never mind. It felt like the wrong time to mention the plaque. I never should have said anything to begin with. His voice was heavy as he said. No, I haven't. Now isn't exactly the

best time. I nodded and quietly left the office, more confused than ever. How had we ended up with too many employees. And why did Charlotte put her picture up? Maybe it was just a joke, or maybe she knew about someone being fired and wanted to make sure it wasn't her. But of course, it wouldn't be Charlotte. She'd worked here since... I couldn't actually remember. She couldn't have been here before me, but she'd definitely been around for a while. Val and Jacob had been here for two years, and Elliot for one. But I had no idea about Charlotte. Either way, she was a good worker, but we all were. Yet one of us would have to go.

Everything all right? Charlotte asked as I resumed my place behind the counter. Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. She quirked her brow, but I didn't elaborate. Hey, Charlotte? Yes. This is kind of a weird question, but, um, did you put your picture there? I gestured to the plaque hanging above us,

and her smiling face declaring her employee of the month. She laughed, a high-pitched, girlish sound, and shook her head. Of course not. Why would I do that? Oliver must have done it. Right, I frowned. Something about the situation was odd. Who would have put the photo up there if it hadn't been Charlotte? But why would she lie about it?

It shouldn't have been a big deal, but it bothered me all afternoon. Finally, I decided to take the picture down. I removed the plaque from the wall and opened up the picture frame, but the photo was stuck. I pulled a little harder, but it didn't budge. The line at the counter was getting longer, and I heard someone huff. But I was determined now. The stupid picture was coming off one way or another. What are you doing?

I jumped as Charlotte appeared behind me, her voice cold and accusatory. I turned around and hid the frame behind my face. frame behind my back. Nothing. She glanced between me and the empty place on the wall. Put that back. We have customers to serve. I felt my blood flow hot. Who was she to tell me what to do? I was the manager here. Still, she wasn't wrong. I couldn't afford to lose focus on my job now. I tried again to remove the photo when Charlotte's back was turned, but it was useless. I would have to rip it, but not in front of Charlotte. I put the point of Charlotte. I put the point. plaque back on the wall and turned to help with the customers. The rest of the day was a blur,

and I forgot all about the photo until I got home. But suddenly I couldn't stop thinking about it. Charlotte must have put her picture there. But why would she have a photo of herself to put there? How could she have known Oliver would put the plaque up? And what did I even know about Charlotte, really? I was close with the rest of the staff. I knew all about their families and their dreams, their plans for the future and their current struggles. But I didn't know anything about Charlotte. How could I have been working with the girl for years and yet know nothing about her?

Maybe I just hadn't made enough of an effort with her. Maybe she put her photo up to get attention. But that didn't really seem like something she would do. When I finally fell asleep, I was more confused than ever. When I entered the cafe early the next morning, Charlotte was already there, pulling a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. What's going on? Am I late? I checked my watch, but it seemed to be working fine.

Charlotte released her girlish laugh again. No, you're fine. I just couldn't sleep, so I thought I would get here early. And make cinnamon buns? I tried to keep my voice even, but it sounded tense, even to my ears. I know it's your specialty, but I thought I'd give them a whirl. Who knows? They might even be better than yours. My skin prickled with rage, but I paced it on a smile. Yeah, maybe.

A small voice in my head whispered, She wants your job. But I brushed it away and put on my apron. Oliver would never replace me. But, it turned out, her cinnamon buns were better than mine. According to the customers, anyway. Hey, Tom, what did you do differently today? I turned from the table I was clearing to find Mr. Jones, savoring a bite of a cinnamon bun.

I tried not to frown and made sort of a grimace instead. I actually didn't make them today. Charlotte did. Well, give her my compliments. I nodded and rushed back to the kitchen. I didn't tell Charlotte about Mr. Jones, but I didn't need to. Oliver congratulated her on her success, and even rewrote the menu so it read Charlotte's cinnamon buns. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, but every time I looked at her name, I heard my mother's voice telling me I wasn't good enough. She probably would have loved Charlotte, with her shiny red hair and tiny waist.

The girl had supermodel good looks, but I was good at my job, and I liked it. I liked the customers, I liked my coworkers, and I certainly liked my boss. I felt like I fit in here, and I was happy. But this was the first time I had been one-up tier, and I didn't like it. That evening, I went home and worked on my cinnamon buns. I spent hours tweaking the recipe, trying this and that, until finally I was happy with them. They had to be better than Charlotte's now. The menu would be back to Tom's cinnamon buns in no time.

I got to work early the next day, but Charlotte was already there. Again. So was Oliver. They were laughing about something in the kitchen when I walked in. I ignored the stab of jealousy and smiled. I've got a new cinnamon bun recipe I think the customers will really like. Oliver's smile dropped, and he looked awkwardly between me and Charlotte. Oh, well, I kind of told Charlotte to keep making hers this week.

People seem to really enjoy them. The kitchen filled with an awkward silence as I debated out a reply. Oh, okay. voice sounded pitiful, but it was the best I could do. But maybe we'll try your recipe next week, yeah? Oliver looked at me with a hopeful expression, and my eyes fell to the floor. Yeah, maybe. Charlotte remained silent, her eyes darting between us.

I left the kitchen and went behind the counter, trying to control the rage boiling inside me. I tried telling myself it was nothing to be mad about, but the day only got worse from there. When I went to give Mr. Jones a refill on his coffee, his mug was already full. He said Charlotte had already been there. I shrugged and went to help Val with the delivery. But she and Charlotte were just bringing in the last bags of flour when I entered the kitchen. I gritted my teeth and asked a customer if I could help him with anything.

No, thanks. Charlotte already took my order. I felt like smacking him, but it wasn't the poor man's fault. All day, every time I went to do something, Charlotte had already done it. I had no doubt now that she was gunning for my job. She must have heard that someone was getting fired and wanted to make sure it wasn't her. And it was hard to be mad at her because she was so damn nice. Good-looking people shouldn't be nice and competent to boot, but Charlotte was doing it all. And yet, something felt off about her.

Ever since the plaque incident, I couldn't help but feel like there was more going on than I could see. By Thursday, I'd had enough. I was sick of Oliver and the others telling me what a great job Charlotte was doing. I couldn't deny that she was doing a great job, and I couldn't take my frustrations out on her. But I could finally get rid of that photo on the wall. I waited until after closing when I was the last one left, aside from Oliver, who was busy in his office. I locked the doors and began to clean the place as usual. After removing the cash from the register, I turned to the plaque.

I wish Oliver had never brought it out. It felt like things started going downhill the moment he put it up. I knew it was special because it was his father's, and he was part of the original cafe, and that's the only reason I couldn't destroy the whole thing and be done with it. But I could at least remove Charlotte's picture. I was sick of her staring down at me. I carefully removed it from the wall and opened it up.

Just like last time, the picture was stuck. I took a deep breath and ripped as hard as I could. The photo tore, and I fell backwards under my butt. I gasped before releasing a giddy laugh. Some of the pressure in my chest eased at the sight of the torn photo. What's going on? My heart leapt to my throat as I looked up to see Charlotte standing. above me. Her face looked murderous.

Charlotte, what? I thought you went home a long time ago? She ignored me, and her gaze zeroed in on the ripped photo. What the hell do you think you're doing? I was just, I, um... I couldn't think under her cold gaze. Why was she so upset? Why was she even here? I was sure I emptied the place out before locking up. Charlotte moved a step closer, and I instinctively stepped back into the corner. I suddenly realized that I was trapped. The cafe was dark and silent.

Charlotte seemed to tower above me, her usual smile long gone. I told you not to touch that. I'm sorry, I just, it's not a big deal. Not a big deal! She shrieked, and her face twisted, making her look like some kind of monster. She wasn't so pretty now when she was angry. In fact, she was terrifying. My palms were sweaty.

My heart was beating in my chest, and I could barely think of what to say. Charlotte, I'm sorry. I'll put it back. I held out the torn bit of photo in my hand, and she snatched it away. It's too late for that. Her eyes seemed to glitter in the darkness. What do you mean? Before she could respond, rapid footsteps sounded, and Oliver appeared in the dining room. I sighed in relief. He must have heard Charlotte's shriek.

What's going on? Oliver, she's crazy, I shouted. What? Charlotte looked between us, and I could almost see her mind working. Her smile suddenly returned, and she looked like the same old Charlotte. I just came back because I forgot my scarf, and I found this. She held up the torn photo for Oliver to see. His brows furrowed as he looked at her.

Then his gaze slowly shifted to me. Why would you do that, Tom? I was just trying to remove the photo. And she freaked out. I think she's dangerous, Oliver. Charlotte laughed and tossed her hair behind her. Me? Dangerous?

Oliver brushed past her until he was a mere foot away. Are you okay, Tom? There was pity in his gaze, but no trace of understanding. Of course I'm okay. Oliver, listen to me. There's something wrong with her. He frowned and took a step back. What are you saying?

When did you hire Charlotte? I don't... You don't remember, do you? And do you know anything about her? It's like she just showed up one day and started taking over. He stared at Charlotte for a moment, and I thought I might have gotten through to him. But then he shook his head.

Tom, maybe you should take some time off. That might be for the best, Charlotte agreed. My hands were clenched into fists, and I debated punching Charlotte in the face. But that wouldn't do anything but prove. to Oliver that I was the crazy one. No, there was only one thing I could do. I reached past Charlotte and grabbed the plaque off the counter.

Don't touch it! Charlotte yelled. But I ignored her and pulled at the photo again, ripping it up even further. Charlotte screamed and lunged at me. We toppled to the floor, and I hit my head against the corner of the counter. My vision blurred as I slumped down the wall.

I was vaguely aware of Oliver shouting my name, but I couldn't move. I blacked out for a moment, and when I opened my eyes, Oliver was knocked out beside me. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen. I groaned and pulled myself to a standing position, but I froze again when I spotted Charlotte, standing in front of the door. She smiled again, but it wasn't her normal smile. It was a sinister, haunting smile. I told you not to touch it, she said as she struck a match and threw it to the floor.

SCP 254 is a wooden employee of the month plaque that, when hung in a workplace of four or more people, causes the manifestation of SCP-254-1, an incorporeal humanoid entity that appears as the ideal employee, based on collective local perception. SCP-254-1 adopts a fixed appearance and persona, becomes highly productive, and integrates seamlessly into the work environment. even displaying knowledge of casual conversation topics. However, if SCP-254 remains in place for longer than 28 to 46 work days,

SCP-254-1's behavior deteriorates, eventually becoming hostile and destructive if not fired or removed. The photograph of SCP-254-1 appears on the plaque during its tenure and cannot be removed without provoking aggression.