Continuing October's collection of Frightening Fanfiction Fridays, this week I have another SCP tale.
This time, it's about notorious f*tish bait article SCP-686. If you aren't familiar with this one, it's definitely a fun read. I had a blast expanding on its lore and taking it to what I imagined to be its kinkiest logical extreme.
This story contains the following kinks: Breast Expansion, Lactation, Multiple Breasts, Mild Weight Gain, Corruption, and Body Transformation.
Next week, Momma is offering up a two-part horror epic in the form of her take on the Cthulhu mythos, as we dig through some Lovecraft slop to find a few kinky pearls~
You can read a sample below:
“Final checks on SCP…uh…9722. Complete. Cleaning and maintenance on 9722’s enclosure. Complete. Moving on,”
Shyanne grumbled the details of her checklist off to her supervisor over her walkie talkie, then ticked a series of boxes on SCP-9722’s daily maintenance sheet on her clipboard with a red sharpie, which she would later need to scan, then email the digital files to her district supervisor, then archive the hard copy in a storage box two levels above her.
“bweep Copy that, Shy,” crackled the voice of her supervisor, Monica. “Move on to the next enclosure.”
Shyanne sighed, sluggishly clipping her walkie back onto her belt.
“This job sucks…” she groaned, looking out blearily to her environs.
Shyanne had been scooped up by the mysterious SCP Foundation in her home state of Tennessee after she’d witnessed something profound and amazing at her last job. She’d been a high school custodian and janitor. Not the most glamorous job, but it paid the bills.
Or, it did, until the school was seized by a mysterious extra-terrestrial anti-gravity field late one night during her shift. The whole school just suddenly uprooted itself and started floating up into space! She was the only witness…and only survivor. After she’d been questioned by local authorities, she was paid a visit by a recruitment officer for the Foundation, who gave her a choice:
Either come work for them and put her instincts to good use…or have her memory completely wiped.
Shyanne chose to work for the Foundation.
Working at the Foundation’s containment facility up in [REDACTED], she joined up imagining she’d be some kind of federal agent, protecting the Earth from otherworldly threats, like in some sci-fi action movie. The reality of the job wasn’t that different from her old one:
She was a glorified janitor; cleaning and maintaining the enclosures for all the SCP’s deemed ‘Safe’. The job was extremely tedious, and involved way more bureaucracy and paperwork than she was used to. It was mind numbing, and the pay was worse than before!
The only tangible benefit Shyanne found in the job was that it guaranteed her decent medical benefits, which paid for her hormone replacement therapy. Her monthly prescription of ‘tiddy skittles’ made living her most genuine life as Shyanne easier.
She was in her mid twenties, with long, wavy auburn hair, pale skin dotted with freckles, and a steadily softening hourglass figure. The HRT did wonders to make her feel more feminine, and she’d even developed a modest bust. Shyanne loved it, but was still saving up money for an eventual ‘enhancement’. In her most private moments, Shyanne dreamed of having huge breasts.
“Ugh…one day,” she reminded herself, moving sluggishly to the next enclosure. “Just keep at it, Shyanne. It’s only about a dozen paychecks away.”
Within the basement levels of the containment facility were drab, fluorescently lit concrete hallways lined with maglock sealed steel doors with bulletproof glass viewing panels. Even benign and inert ‘Safe’ objects were kept locked up. No windows, no natural light, just lots and lots of long, gloomy, poorly lit hallways of metal and stone.
Shyanne moved on to the next enclosure, toting a cleaning caddy filled with supplies. She was dressed in a fitted orange coverall with her name and ID stamped onto the front pocket and back. Her ID card lanyard and walkie talkie were clipped to her belt. Shyanne couldn’t help but feel like her work uniform was indistinguishable from a prison uniform at times.
“Okay, uh…next one is SCP-686. Huh, never seen this one before. It’s just a…bottle of milk?” she said to herself, looking over the object’s sheet on her clipboard. The grainy black and white graphic showed an old fashioned glass milk bottle full of white liquid. The notes beside it were mostly blacked out and redacted, giving her almost no info.
The instructions were to dust the bottle, lift it up to dust the pedestal it was on, ensure its cap was sealed tight, and move on. Easy enough.
But when Shyanne got to SCP-686’s enclosure, something looked very wrong!
Through the floor to ceiling bulletproof glass viewing window into the illuminated enclosure, she saw the milk bottle. Its cap was off! It rested in a puddle of milk, which spilled and dripped slowly down the sides of the pedestal!
“Oh shit,” Shyanne groaned. She reached for her walkie and reported in. “Monica, this is Shyanne. I’ve got a problem with SCP six…eight…uh…the milk bottle one. Its cap is off. How should I proceed, over?”
Her walkie talkie crackled with static and distortion. She waited patiently for a reply, but only got a single garbled response.
“krrzzzttt repeat krrzzzttt -t engage krrzzzttt -ot drink the krrzzzttt”
“Come again, Monica? You’re breaking up!” Shyanne said into the walkie. She gave it a few slaps against the palm of her hand.
Nothing came out but static.
“Well…shit.” Shyanne sighed, “Something like this could take up the rest of the night…ugh, and I’ll probably be blamed for it!” She knew the bureaucratic nightmare a containment breach would be, even for something as simple as a milk bottle. Reams of paperwork, reports, and likely a supervisor inquiry.
“Fuck that,” Shyanne said to herself. “It’s a quick mop up and wipe down. I can handle that. No paperwork needed!”
So she switched off her walkie talkie, took a deep breath, thumbed in the unlock code to the door, and stepped inside the enclosure with SCP-686.