The SCP Experience - There's Something Inside Me And It Wants Out | SCP-2327

Episode Date: May 13, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-2327: There's Something Inside Me And It Wants Out This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2327 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt D. * * * 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

Let me out of here, you bastards! My eyes shoot open at the sound of the man's tortured screams. My perception works overtime to take in my surroundings. I'm lying down on a thin mattress, and I'm in some sort of moving vehicle. I try to sit up and bang my head into a metal ceiling overhead before I'm even halfway up. Groaning, I lie back down, reaching a hand up to rub my forehead. It's dark wherever I am, but there's very. is a little light filtering through a mesh screen next to my head in the wall of the coffin-sized

chamber. I peer out and see a similar mesh screen across the way, about three feet distant. A man's terrified face peers out, fingers sticking out between the wires as he grips the screen. Let me out of here, he cries. I look up, realizing there's another closed-in bunk over the panicked man's bunk. Is this some kind of transport vehicle? I wonder. Seems strange. When I was transported to prison, I was sitting on a seat next to a large and grinning man who called himself Miss Priss. Purely in practical terms, transporting prisoner sitting is the more space-efficient way to do things. So why are we lying down? And where the hell are we going?

The last thing I remember was being called at the prison infirmary for what the guard told me was a vaccination shot. I had been in prison for long enough to know not to give the guards. a hard time. So I went along like a good felon, not even questioning what I was being vaccinated against. As far as I know, I wasn't supposed to be transported anywhere. Now I think it's pretty goddamn clear that whatever was in that syringe wasn't a vaccination against anything. Whatever this is, it's some shady shit. And coming from the American prison system, not saying something. Let me out, you sons of bitches! The guy across from me shouts. Shut up!

I scream at him. All you're doing is pissing me off. So shut up. Yeah, me too. A man says from directly above me. It startles me, but it makes sense that there's someone above me if there's two cages across from me in this strange vehicle. Where the hell are we?

Another man asks. I look up at the mesh screen above, seeing a new face there. I recognize the dark skin, the sharp features, and the wide bright eyes. Lonnie? I ask. Oh shit. That you, Dorian? It's me.

I say. You know what the hell this is? Let me out of here. The panicked guy screams. Hey! I say, turning my attention from Lonnie. Hey, man. What's your name?

The guy whimpers. Spencer, he says. He's young. Maybe early 20s. He has the look of a fresh fish, all round edges and sun-touched skin. He hasn't been in the system. him for long. Do me a favor, and shut the hell up for a minute, Spencer, I say. Spencer whimpers and

disappears from the mesh screen, presumably lying back down in his little cell. Lonnie chuckles. You're an asshole, man. Yeah, well, he's driving me nuts. So what? You know what's happening? No idea, Lonnie says. Last I remember, that asshole Billings took me down to the infirmary for a shot of something. Next thing I know. I'm waking up to Spencer here shitting his pants. I didn't shit my pants. Spencer says. Shut up!

The rest of us say in unison. That's what they did to me, but it was a guard named Cortez. The guy over me says. What's your name? Lonnie asks him. Travis, the guy says. Looks like we're in some shit, I say. Because that's the same thing that happened to me.

This isn't good, Lonnie says. I've heard if prisoners disappearing before. There's always some bullshit about a last-minute transfer, but I never bought that shit for a minute. What are they going to do to us? Spencer whines. I grit my teeth at his voice, but I don't yell this time.

I'm trying to work on my anger. It's what landed me in prison in the first place. The vehicle we're riding in slows, turns, and then stops. The sound of muffled voices comes from outside, although I can't hear what they're saying. Momentarily, the vehicle we're going to be able to be. The vehicle lurches again, and we drive for several more minutes. The vehicle slows again and pulls a hard left, then it reverses until it thumps into something,

at which point it stops. An unseen speaker crackles to life overhead, and a man's voice comes through. When we unlock your cages, you will file out the back of the vehicle one by... You will be shot. Oh Jesus! Spencer says. Oh God, Jesus baby Christ! There's an electronic bud.

accompanied by the sound of a heavy lock retracting, then light floods into the back of the vehicle. A moment later, there's another set of buzzes, and the doors to our cells fall open, bouncing off rubber stoppers beneath each cell. I look across at Spencer, who's dressed in an orange jumpsuit, just like me and Lonnie. Legs swing down from above, and I see that Travis is also dressed the same. Travis goes first. jumping down and then walking out of the vehicle. I go next, seeing that we're in some sort of wooded area. I step out into the fresh air,

the lush greenery greeting me like an old lover. A smile cracks my face as I walk straight ahead. Up ahead of me, Travis stops well past what I think is 20 yards and turns around. He's a heavyset man with dark hair and thick hands. He peers beyond me, eyes curious and searching. When I get to him, I turn around and look back the way I came. Lonnie is walking toward us, with Spencer behind him. Beyond them, I can see that there's a tall fence, more of a wall, running off in both directions.

There's a gate in the fence, which is open and blocked by the back of the vehicle we came in. The gate slammed shut by some automatic process, and then I can hear the vehicle leave again. I study the wall, which looks to be made of some kind of slick but bulky metal. It's a good 15 feet tall, and there's a noticeable lack of trees nearby. All the trees have been cleared, so there's no way you can climb one and jump over. There are strips of metal mesh jutting out over the wall, and my guess is the metal is electrified, making it impossible to climb even if you managed to drag a dead tree or something over to get up the slick surface.

Despite all this, I feel pretty good. I'm outside in a forest, which is a huge step up from inside a prison with a bunch of smelly and violence-prone assholes. Lonnie and Spencer arrive, both of them turning around to survey the wall, much like Travis and I have already done. Something rustles in the trees nearby,

and I look over to see a red squirrel with pointy ears and black eyes bounding toward us. Hey little buddy, I say to the thing, crouching down as it comes nearer, expecting it to be spooked and run away. I hate fucking squirrels, Travis says. There's another one. I look over my shoulder to see a second red squirrel coming toward us. Palsy little bastards, Lonnie says.

As I turn back to look at the first squirrel, I'm surprised to see it just a few feet away. It's still coming. I stand up and step back, suddenly thinking about that scene in Monty Python in the Holy Grail where the cute little rabbit goes on a bloody rampage. There's more! Spencer shouts, but I can't look now. The first little bastard is coming toward me. I back up, pushing past the other men as the squirrel keeps coming. But it suddenly veers off and jumps on Lonnie's leg,

scampering up as Lonnie shouts and tries to kick it off. I feel sharp little claws on the back of my right leg and realize I have one on me as well. I try to swipe the thing off, but it's too quick. It grabs onto my hands, and sinks its little claws into my flesh. I grab the little thing with my other hand and rip it off, leaving ribbons of torn flesh as its claws rip out of my skin.

I throw the thing away, but another one is already climbing up my leg. Meanwhile, I'm vaguely aware of the other men fighting off squirrel attacks of their own. The second furry little bastard rushes up my back as I flail to get it off. It scratches and bites at the back of my neck before I finally fling it away. I run off into the woods, thinking maybe we were standing in their territory. Maybe they are protecting their stash of nuts or their young ones or something. As soon as I'm about 30 yards away from the scene of the attack, I duck behind a tree and scan the woods for any more squirrels.

I don't see any, so I gaze back toward the other men who seem to have calmed down. I don't see any squirrels attacking them anymore, so I walk back over, seeing that every one of us is bleeding from scratch or bite marks somewhere on our bodies. The fuck was that about? Bonnie asks. I hate goddamn squirrels, Travis says. When you were little, you had braced some have braced in course of recreat. Always in trying to negotiate and do share of exchanges?

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Via Rae, the voice that we love that we love. Classical music suddenly erupts from off in the woods, away from the wall. We all look in that direction, curious. Someone else is out here,

I ask. Playing music? Maybe it's a pied piper, but for squirrels instead of rats, Lonnie says. Let's go see what it is, Travis suggests. Better than waiting around here for another rabbit squirrel attack. We all agree, moving through the woods toward the sound of classical music. At first, we move with caution, watching out for bushy tails and black eyes. But after traveling for a while unmolested, we grow more comfortable.

After walking for a good half mile or so, we come across a concrete bunker of some sort, about the size of a small one-story house. There are speakers positioned on the outside. That's where the music is coming from. We go up to the metal front door, which is completely open and peer inside. All I can see is what looks like a communal area with a metal table and chairs fixed to the concrete. Hello? Bonnie calls.

The music dies. Suddenly, after a moment of confusion, Lonnie calls out again. No answer. Screw this, Travis says, striding into the place. The rest of us stand outside, waiting. After a moment, Travis says, This is some creepy shit. Come in here. We all go inside to see what Travis is talking about.

There are four bunks, two on each side of the communal area, and each one of them has a label next to it. Our names are on the labels. There's also a small kitchen area at the back of the place, and a bathroom with a shower and a toilet. A built-in bookshelf sits in one wall, packed with books of all kinds. Looks like we're home, Lonnie says, stretching out on his bunk. You don't find this weird? I ask. Of course it's fucking weird, man, but it's better than prison, so I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

I can't really argue with that logic. What about food? Travis says from the kitchen. There's cooking stuff in here, but no food. I have a feeling it will be provided, Lonnie says. I get back to the bunker, carrying the food supplies for the next week in a backpack, provided for just this task. By my count, we've been here a month and a half, and I couldn't be happier.

Lonnie was right. That first day, the speakers blurted out instructions on where to find the food. We went back to the gate and found that there was a backer. backpack there loaded with stuff like rice, fresh veggies, meat, and other essentials. We had to make the food last a week, but it wasn't hard, there was enough of it. Now we've all settled into our routines. There have been no more squirrel attacks, although the wounds seemed to take a long time to heal.

We've seen the squirrels out in the woods, but they've left us alone, and we've left them alone. We still haven't heard anything about why we're here, but long as well, we've left us alone. Lonnie thinks it's some kind of social experiment. He thinks there are cameras hidden everywhere, along with audio recording devices. I don't know about that, but I'm not complaining. It's almost like being free again. Almost.

As I'm unloading the supplies, I feel a twinge of discomfort from my stomach. It has been happening a lot lately to all of us. We've all been experiencing heartburn, nausea, and difficulty swallowing. I think it's something in the food, but it's not like we have a lot of options. I ignore the discomfort and finish unloading, ready to get back to reading the Tommy Knockers by Stephen King. I was never much of a reader before, but there's nothing else to do, so I've come to enjoy getting lost in books. Lonnie sits on his bunk, which is above mine, reading a Harry Potter book.

Travis lounges at the table, carving a wooden stick with one of the kitchen knives. Spencer is outside somewhere, doing God knows what, probably crying. It's all he seems to do, whining or crying. It's a miracle none of us have killed him. Then again, that probably would have ended whatever weird experiment this is. And none of us want that. As I settle into the small fictional main town of Haven, with kings, believable and endearing characters. I managed to ignore the growing unease in my stomach.

But after about ten minutes of reading, I hear a cry of pain from outside. Travis and I look at each other. What was that? Bonnie asks. Sounded like Spencer, Travis says, getting up from the table. We all move outside together, seeing Spencer as he comes stumbling through the woods. His face is the shade of notebook paper, and he has one hand pressed to his stomach and the other one to his ass, as if he's trying to hold diarrhea in. He walks funny with his knees together, and he's half bent over. Help me! He shouts. There's something wrong with me! None of us make a move. Ah, Jesus! Travis says suddenly. He still has the knife in his hand, but he's left the piece of wood back in the bunker. He presses his free hand to his stomach.

Quit screwing around, Bonnie says. Travis shakes his head. No, something's wrong. Help me! Spencer screams again. It fucking hurts! What's happening to me? Fear blossoming in my skull as a sharp pain erupts from my stomach.

Now about ten yards away, Spencer stops. Eyes going wide as he reaches both hands around to his ass. He stares off into the distance for a moment before collapsing to the ground. I watch him writhe. and whimper, aware that Travis is now clutching his stomach and groaning. Spencer has fallen in such a way so that his head is facing away from us, his feet toward us. This makes it possible for me to see the blood soaking into the seat of his orange jumpsuit.

After a few long moments of blood spreading out across the fabric, Spencer stops moving, and something bulges against his pants. Lonnie and I stepped back, paying little attention to Travis, who has also collapsed on the ground, still clutching his stomach. The bulge moves from Spencer's pants down his leg. I watch in horrified confusion as a small, blood-covered squirrel emerges from Spencer's pant leg, black eyes peering at us with distrust.

It twitches its tail before bounding into the woods. You guys got to help me, Travis says. Give me a doctor. How the hell would we... Lonnie's words are cut off with a gag. I look at the man, watching his already large eyes. grow even larger. He gags again, pointing to his throat. At first, I don't know what he means,

but then I realize he's choking. But he wasn't eating anything. How can he be choking? I rush around behind him and start giving him the heimlich as he gags and chokes. After about a minute of this, I hear something hit the ground. Lonnie sucks in a gasping breath and says, What the fuck? I let him go and step around to look at the ground. There's a small squirrel there. Fur matted with clear liquid. It looks around for a moment and then darts off into the woods. We don't have long to contemplate this, because Travis lets loose a throat-ripping scream.

Lonnie and I look over to see that Travis has pulled the top of his jumpsuit down to his waist and pulled his white undershirt up to reveal his bare stomach. Something bulges against his skin. Get it out of me! Travis screams. It's tearing me up! Lonnie and I just watch in shocked revulsion.

Something moves in my stomach, and it doesn't take much to imagine what it is. Screaming in pain, Travis lifts the knife he brought from the bunker and plunges the blade into his stomach, aiming for the bulge. Jesus! Lonnie says with a raspy voice, lunging toward Travis. But he only manages to grab hold of Travis's arm after he's plunged the blade into his own stomach four times. Get it out! Travis screams, fighting to get his knife hand back. I suddenly feel like I'm going to vomit. My gag reflex kicks in, and I feel an object deep in my throat, turning a gag.

The contents of my stomach, mostly water, slosh, and then rush up my throat. I fall to all fours and vomit, seeing through tear-blurred eyes a small squirrel amid the otherwise liquid bile. The squirrel shakes itself off and then bounds away, going the same direction as the other two. I sit back and watch it go, wondering what the hell kind of squirrels these are. You good? Lonnie asks, coming up next to me. Yeah, I say. Mine came out easy.

I suddenly realized Travis is no longer screaming. I turned to look at him, seeing that he's perfectly still. He's dead, Bonnie says. Same with Spencer, I think. What about the squirrel? I ask. I think Travis killed him. it when he was stabbing himself. I didn't see it come out. Huh, I say. That's too bad.

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There's four of them, and one of them starts barking orders at us, telling us to move out of the bunker, telling us our job is done here. Wait, I say for my bunk. I want to stay. Please, just let me stay. I don't want to go back to prison.

I'll birth as many squirrels as you. you want. I don't care. Are you nuts, man? You could be killed, Lonnie says from his place near the table. It's a miracle we survived. Actually, the head honcho says from behind his helmet and visor. It's not common for two people to die like your friends did. That was an anomaly. We have a 92% survival rate overall. See? I say to Lonnie. 92%. And this place is 100% better than prison. Lonnie seems to consider this. He shrugs. Yeah.

Fuck it. I'll stay too. I smile and look at the head honcho. What do you say, chief? Can we stay? The guy considers this for a moment. Yeah, all right. Good way to keep costs down, I guess.

Yes! I say, jumping up from my bunk. Lonnie and I, high five. Off in the woods. A squirrel chatters. SCP 2327 is a species of squirrel, almost identical in appearance to the Eurasian red squirrel. While usually not aggressive, these anomalous squirrels appear to attempt to bite, scratch, or otherwise break the skin of their handlers.

Within two hours of an instance of SCP 2327 piercing the skin of a human being, an embryo is implanted into their stomach lining. Its presence generally causes heartburn, nausea, and difficulty swallowing. Gestation lasts an average of 45 days, not unlike non-anomalous red squirrels. However, SCP 2327 instances are born with hair and open eyes and are capable of fending for themselves. At the 45-day mark, SCP 2327 pushed their way through the lower esophageal sphincter of the host. Then they climb the esophageal tract by stimulating the gag reflex. In cases where the reflex has been insufficient,

SCP 2327 have attempted to climb the esophagus using their claws. They then burst through the upper esophageal sphincter and leave the host via the mouth. Rarely, SCP 2327 instances will have difficulty leaving the body through the mouth. In some cases, they will attempt to claw their way through the stomach. In others, they have been known to work their way through the intestines to the anus, often causing severe internal bleeding in the process. Lazzangue sur-gely, puissance-maintened for 15 minutes.

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