SCP-3008
By: hdalby33

“Thought this was supposed to be easy,” Gale grumbled, eyeing the colossus of a building before him. The chubby drolf was pressed right up against an indiscriminate warehouse just beyond the city limits. Sources had told him an object of unimaginable value rested within the confines of the building. So valuable it might as well be able to end world hunger.

The fur who’d tipped Gale off had been a reliable source for years, guiding him to many successful cons, burglaries, and rewards. So why did they direct me to a concrete block, he fumed internally. Gale wasn’t exaggerating the building’s features. It looked as if a giant had dropped a football field-sized block in the middle of the South Virginian woods. The only signs of life were a chain link fence encompassing the perimeter and huge, block letters painted on the side of the bunker. SCP STORAGE: UNIT 5.

Gale had no inclination as to what that meant, but he bypassed the outer perimeter all the same. And that had been remarkably easy. It was only when he got closer that the drolf realized that the chain link fence was most likely a means of dissuading any local wildlife. The real security measures stemmed from the fact that there really weren’t any.

As he slipped along one side of the building, Gale was only greeted with more nondescript concrete and the occasional series of pipes, which were welded together and no more than six-inches wide. The blue and white drolf grew increasingly angsty, his thick tail trailing through dead grass and leaves dejectedly.

On the verge of giving up, the drolf rounded the final corner of the warehouse, dragging one blue paw over the rough edges of the wall. In the other, he held a flashlight that doubled as a black light. Still nothing. It’s a goddamn bust.

The drolf neared the end of the final corner, grumbling heavily as his soft gut gurgled to him. It’d been awhile since he’d eaten, perhaps another attribute to his lack of patience. Just then a flash of light caught the hybrid’s attention.

Turning back, Gale swept the black light over the bunker’s base and waved it back and forth. There! For a brief moment, a small, incandescent sliver of light beamed back at him, illuminating Gale’s straining white shirt and dark jacket. He stepped forward and gently pressed a claw against the opening. It could have been a crack in the building, but the line was too straight and deliberate to not be intentional. Besides, the rest of the building had sported no such cracks.

The drolf felt his anger melt away for excitement. He pressed one eye to the slit and tried to peer inside, but all he could make out was a grimy, white wall. Slipping a small bag from one shoulder, the doughy drolf rummaged through and finally produced a slim length of metal. Despite its thin diameter, the rod was composed of rolled tungsten, perfect for levering things in tight places.

Gale slipped the rod into the crack and rustled around for a moment. The length of metal was a meter in length, but it met no resistance when Gale pushed it through. There was an opening on the other side. Or the walls of the bunker are even more insane than I thought. Gale shook his head, trying to remain positive. Levering the rod a bit more, the drolf grinned wide as he felt something on the other side click. The wall rumbled and Gale pushed hard. Slowly a section of the bunker about the size of a car slid in and took the drolf with it. He was in.

The interior of the bunker was remarkably ordinary. Gale had been expecting grungy hallways or dripping cement, but instead he found a clean, well-lit corridor. No lights flickered, no shadows loomed; instead the drolf was transported back to high school, when nondescript architecture was the norm.

Disappointment began to weigh heavy on the drolf, who’d been hoping for more. All that was left to do was explore. Creeping forward, the thickly built anthro began to take note of a couple unnerving elements. Small divots were dug into the walls, chips missing in places as if some entity had gouged them out. God knew how big the place was and how deep it went. The bunker could be storing anything.

Continuing forward, Gale wielded the metal rod like a weapon. The place was unnaturally calm, but something tickled the underside of his gut. He could feel there was a reason his source had directed him to this place. After roughly twenty meters of cautious trudging, the drolf came across the first door.

Set back into the concrete, it matched the décor in that muted fashion. A thick, steel door colored a riveting grey with a tempered glass window embedded in it. Gale was beginning to sweat, his side rolls and posterior dampening in fear.

Slowly, he creeped up to the door and peered in. The sight on the other side quickly chilled the drolf’s overheated blubber, sending his fur on end. A tall, contorted figure peered back, hunched up against the far wall. It was frozen in place, scorched and burned with what must have been years of wear. It looked like a mannequin with a bulbous head crudely fused to a cylindrical torso. The floor was covered in a flakey layer of brown and rust. Gale doubted that was by design.

Fumbling for his flashlight, the drolf ducked his head for a moment. In that instant there was a bone-rattling SLAM against the door. Gale yelped and crashed on his well-padded rump with a resounding jiggle. The steel door vibrated alarmingly, but remained steady.

Slowly, Gale looked up at the window. Peering back was the mannequin, frozen in place and staring ahead. What the hell was that thing? Rather than remain, the hybrid wisely clambered to his feet and lumbered further down the corridor. Why in the world would someone send me to a place like this? The questions flared to life in the drolf’s mind as he passed several more doors, but curiosity wasn’t what motivated him anymore. He needed to find whatever the source had given him or get the hell out.

Stumbling after what felt like eons of running, Gale wobbled to a halt. His sides rolled and heaved in a ripple of blue and white. Leaning against the seemingly endless hallway, the drolf finally caught a second wind, though the fear never left him. Now the weight of the building itself was beginning to loom large in his mind. It was difficult enough to get into the godforsaken place, getting out was almost infeasible.

Gale took a deep breath and regained his bearings. Looking down the way he’d been heading, the drolf spotted another cell. This one sported a number under the window. He must have missed the first one from sheer curiosity, but now the three digits stood out like a neon sign. SCP-055. Gale began to recall the details he’d received from his source. When they described it, he’d figured it would’ve been clear where the most valuable things were kept. It evidently wasn’t the case.

You’re looking for 871, the source informed, before adding impishly, Roughly your weight. A glint of ill humor had flashed in their eyes with those words. Gale had been too impatient to care. He needed another score.

And now he was entombed in a cement fortress, surrounded by some strange collection of…mistakes? He wasn’t sure, but he knew they were dangerous, or else they wouldn’t be housed in barren cells.

Taking another deep gulp of air, Gale eyed the doors and stumbled to the next cell. SCP-119. They’re not in order. The drolf felt fear begin to rise once more, but he steeled himself over. Gripping his metal rod tight, the chubby drolf forged on, taking occasional peeks into the cells as he went.

Most were remarkably normal, or just slightly odd to him. Furniture, dolls, cubes, paintings, plants, statues. As if he’d stepped into an M.C. Escher painting. The worse ones contained abominations that saddened more than scared. Weeping creatures, a root-wreathed reptile, plush toys with jagged teeth, and far more hosted the insides of the cells and Gale couldn’t shake the notion that each and every one was dangerous. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here, in this godforsaken place.

After several hours of wandering, stumbling, and forlorn observation, the drolf came across a sight that was rather peculiar. A cake, situated in the direct center of the cell, colored a soft blue with white icing. Immediately, Gale’s sizable gut grumbled. He hadn’t eaten in hours and had done more walking in the past few hours than he normally did in a week. Pressing his soft gut to the cool metal door, the drolf felt magnetically held in place.

He paused for a moment and looked at the door. SCP-871. This is it?! Gale recalled his source declaring that it could effectively render world hunger a distant memory. One bloody cake. And not even a large one! It only stood six inches in height, perhaps twice that in diameter. It was nothing more than a mouthful for the drolf. Still, he was smart enough not to forget there was a reason for the confection’s incarceration. His source had failed to elaborate on that particular fact. Probably for good reason in a place like this.

Pausing for a moment longer, Gale weighed his nerves with the demands of his supple gut. A tense battle of desire against sensibility ensued, but for the fat drolf, desire won. Besides, this is the reason I’m here, Gale reasoned. Eyeing the door, the drolf realized he now had to figure out how to break in.

Humming thoughtfully, the hybrid twirled his metal rod absentmindedly. The door itself bowed outward slightly, as if some entity had pressed up against it with relentless force. A small, almost imperceptible opening rested between the door and its frame. Gale tilted his head uncertainly, but slid the metal rod in anyway, securing it in the opening began to push with all his might.

The rod flexed and door actually gave off a hopeful creak, but remained still. Gale could feel the rod dig into his supple overhang, almost halving his gut from the pressure he put on it. Heaving one more time, something in the door clicked as the drolf suddenly pitched forward, the door popping open in the process.

The frame of the door slammed painfully against Gale’s muzzle, causing him to groan and see stars. Shaking the sparks of light out of his vision, the drolf suddenly recalled what he’d just done. He’d accessed on of the containment units.

Rising back onto his feet, the blue and white anthro stumbled into the room, uncertain of what to expect. From the past encounters, Gale half expected a face-hugger to leap out of the cake. Or for it to transform into a hallucinatory abomination. Instead, absolutely nothing transpired, which set the drolf on edge even more. Why was a confection locked up here? This was the first time he’d seen food in the bunker. Wouldn’t it rot? Or go stale at the very least?

Judging from the smell neither supposition proved true. A wonderful scent of sugary icing and rich confection wafted up, drawing the heavyset hybrid even closer. Gale failed to notice the door hiss shut behind him, secured into place once more with a metallic click. His attention was entirely fixated on the cake.

The prison itself wasn’t terribly impressive. A white-grey cell marbled in chipping paint and a cool, cement floor. The cake sat on a metal tray akin to what a prison mess hall would serve their meals on. The table was a four-legged affair composed of a cheap-looking wood. He guessed it was most likely plaster, painted with a failed attempt at quality. Not that Gale cared. All he wanted was the cake.

He came to a gentle stop at the lip of the table, his furry middle squishing around it loosely. Breathing deeply, the drolf felt saliva fog his maw, begging for the cake. He reached out for it, coming within an inch of gracing the thick coating of frosting. He stopped. Rationale was beginning to weigh in, with a heavy sense of dread accompanying it. Why was a cake locked in the cell? What value did it have? He was a successful criminal because he was careful. Now hunger and logic were at odds once more. The fight was unbearable for the burly drolf.

Whimpering softly, Gale looked between the cake and the door of the prison. Then he noticed something else. The door had been resealed, locking him inside with the world’s most dangerous cake. Scrambling over to the door, the drolf pounded on the thick metal door. It barely budged. Any of the previous fragility the door had possessed was gone. Gale was beginning to panic. No one but his source knew he was here. And they weren’t partial to rescue missions.

If he ever got caught, the source’s advice was a remorseful laugh and a sharp remark, Just watch where that soap is dropped, eh?

And now Gale truly was in prison. He almost longed for the soap at this point. Plopping on his well-padded rump, Gale leaned up against the bowed door and sighed. No one had heard his pounding and the people who ran this place were nowhere to be found. Not when he’d been touring the prison like an impromptu museum.

Looking around the cell, the drolf finally settled on the cake once more. His gut gave off a longing pang. Maybe a little taste. It was dangerous, he knew that, but there were no other options in a place like this. Especially for a big-boned individual such as himself.

Approaching the cake again, Gale leaned against the table, finding it had absolutely no give. That ruled out against using the table as a battering ram. The same went for the metal tray, no give whatsoever. Which leaves the cake. Reaching out, the drolf scooped up a dollop of frosting and plopped it in his muzzle. It was euphoria.

Before he could stop himself, Gale dug into the cake, enjoying large fist-sized chunks at a rapid pace. It was red-velvet on the inside, adding a lovely layer of richness to the sweet frosting. Coupled together, the intoxicating cake was a masterpiece, belonging in a high-end bakery rather than a prison. The cake lasted all of a minute for the famished drolf. His muzzle was highlighted in stains of blue and white, complementing the swell of his fur.

Burping softly, the drolf rubbed his smooth gut and plopped against the edge of the table. That was niiiiice. Gale felt calmer now, almost sedated. As if he’d just finished a large meal and gone back for seconds, which was strange considering the size of the cake. Then he noticed the definition his gut had assumed. Normally a rounded orb of flab roughly two feet in breadth, the drolf’s appearance was more in tune with a mother expecting a litter of triplets.

He hiccupped again, jostling his sagging middle faintly. Gale could feel additional tightness encompassing his belly as his shirt strained stubbornly against the swelling mass of flesh. The same occurred with the drolf’s rump, his pants beginning to conform to the bulbous globes expanding outwards and over Gale’s meaty thighs.

Eyeing the tray that had been holding the cake, Gale lurched forward with another surge of adipose sweeping over his gut. The cake…something about the cake. The drolf groaned as his arms and legs bulged through their seams, unhindered by the tortured clothing. Gale could feel his butt squash his tail mercilessly, accentuating the drolf’s widened hips effortlessly.

All the drolf could envision at the moment was how much he’d grow before he met the confinements of the cell. Already, the fattened hybrid was accommodating more than half the space, his gut forming a ponderous overhang that pooled against the table. The drolf’s rump resembled a couple yoga balls held in place under a thick fur coat. With a resounding CRREEEAK the drolf’s pants tore asunder, sending the duo of doughy monoliths bouncing and jiggling up against the prison door.

Now the prison truly was being put to the test, as the Gale felt his swelling gut digging into the lip of the table and pushing him up against the steel wall. An alarming amount of the wall was becoming covered in the foreign substance, the strain of the bloating drolf’s form triggering the sensors in the walls.

Normally such triggers were reserved for emergencies, should an earthquake occur and the walls were cracked. A swelling whale of a drolf was also a plausible threat.

The sensor beeped once, before Gale’s rear swelled over the webbing of wires within the wall and suffocated them. A sharp electric jolt zapped the bulging anthro, but it was lost in the voluminous layers of flab. Slowly, Gale felt his gut engulf the table entirely, a warm, blubbery glacier overcoming the intrepid furniture. The drolf barely noticed.

He was too busy wondering what would happen when he reached the cell’s limits. Slowly, the remainder of the drolf’s shirt shredded under the tidal wave of furry fat bulging beneath it. A pair of pillowy moobs surged forward with the absence of his shirt, jiggling atop the prominent curve of the drolf’s belly. And still Gale kept swelling.

Down below the surface, almost a hundred meters below ground, a security guard keeled out of his chair as the alarm cropped up on his monitor. “Oh shit, not again,” the wolf muttered, unsheathing his radio and thumbing it to the right channel. “Hey, Clouss, you there?”

A bit of static cropped up on the other end, before a sharp voice replied. “Clouss here, everything alright?”

“N-no sir, one of the SCP cells is breached. Sh-should I call the reserves?”

A pause on the other end. “Which cell is it?”

“Er…SCP-87..1, sir, 871.”

There was another pause, before the wolf could’ve sworn he detected a chuckle. It was possibly another crackle of static. He hoped it was at least. Eventually Clouss’ voice came through again, though notably warmer. Giddy even. “I’ll handle it, good work on your part.”

The wolf cocked his head, uncertain. “You sure si-..”

“Positive, just go back to observation. And cut off the alarm if you would. There’s no further need for it.” More confusion on the wolf’s end. Eventually he shrugged and did as he was told. Better not to mess with someone like Clouss.

Several levels down, a slender figure ambled out of another observation unit. Several scientists followed in his wake.

Back in the cell, Gale whined softly as his blubbery form squished relentlessly against the cell. Now pressed against all four walls, the drolf found his belly and butt filling up the sharp corners and angles of the room. Too fat for your cell? Figures! Gale could hear his source laughing about his predicament, bragging to associates about a con artist who broke out via rampant swelling.

Eventually Gale’s figure, now almost perfectly cubed by the cell and composed primarily of exceeding flab, came to odds with the integrity of the room itself. The table still pressed stubbornly into his engorged form, refusing to budge, but the walls were of less sturdy stuff.

Soft rumbles and dustings of cement tickled the rolls of pudge pushing against them, giving way millimeter by millimeter. The cell itself was becoming rounded, Gale’s endlessly bulking form pushing against it with a vengeance. What was in that cake?

Squishing against himself, Gale felt the pressure of the cell walls pushing against him increase. They squeezed and conformed to his fattened figure with the same stubbornness his clothes had. Only these were layered with two-feet of reinforced concrete, and built to retain the darker beings the world had to offer.

With one final groan, Gale burst through the cell’s confines, his flab jiggling wildly from the release. It was the first time in SCP’s history a containment subject had done so. Gasping in relief, the drolf looked around at the new openings. His head and neck had merged into a singular tire of flab, making range of mobility limited, but the drolf could still see ahead of him. And what was ahead of him, terrified him.

Despite the drolf’s staggering size, which was still swelling, he’d come face to face with the occupant of the cell next door. Oh fuck.

Down below, Theo Clouss marched forward at a rapid pace, entirely fixated on the reaching SCP-871. A muted rumbling from the direction he was headed in resulted in a wide grin and increased pace. The scientists accompanying him struggled to keep up.

The group wound through endless halls, each filled with their own special horror. Traversing several cases of stairs, the leopard finally ascended to ground level. Without hesitating, he turned one more corner and made a beeline for the prison cell only a couple hundred meters ahead. All he could see for the moment was a quivering wall of white and blue. He hurried on.

Gale wriggled softly amid his globular reservoir of flab, but was unable to do anything other than send additional jiggles through his bloated form.

Sitting across from him, another creature looked back, this one as emaciated as he was fat. Standing roughly 2.5 meters in height, the creature was entirely without pigment or hair. It was colored a glaring ivory color, which covered a skeletal frame. The figure observed the blubbery drolf with white eyes, its overly long arms dangling lifelessly at its sides. Gale began to quiver again, both in fear and from the fact that he was still swelling.

The creature suddenly leapt forward, causing the drolf to scream. It halted inches from his fattened head, sniffing curiously. Extending one painfully long finger, the creature poked the swollen drolf’s neck, watching it sink in without resistance. Gale’s heavy chest and cheeks jiggled from the nerve racking experience, but there was nothing else for him to do. Above and below him, more concrete and cells were giving away to the behemoth of blubber, countless SCPs being engulfed by the anthro’s ethereal softness.

Theo began running when he heard the scream, maniacal excitement and fear both filling his mind. He couldn’t bear to have damage inflicted on the heavy drolf or the other SCPs. He’d promised his superiors.

Squeezing through the voluminous wall formed by Gale’s planetary girth and the far side of the hall, Theo finally emerged out next to the drolf’s head. The scientists who’d been following him did likewise, though they were noticeably less pleased about it.

Theo was greeted by a stunning sight. SCP-096 propped on its hindquarters, docily poking the drolf’s foot-thick collar with childlike curiosity. The drolf himself was frozen, eyes as wide as their cheeks while the emaciated creature continually entertained itself with the hybrid’s swelling bulk. Another layer of concrete cracked somewhere in the prison, jolting the leopard out of his shock.

Snapping his fingers, Theo had one of the scientists bring forth a thick cloth bag. Taking it in both paws, the leopard crept around the creature and suddenly pounced on it, covering SCP-096’s head. Immediately the creature’s arms went limp and it sat still. Two other scientists dutifully guided SCP-096 out of the far side of the cell, their destination being an emergency block a couple halls down.

Gale looked after the creature in concern, “Wait, will he be alright?”

Theo’s eyes widened before he loosed a deep laugh. Leaning against the ponderous shelf of the drolf’s chest, the cat purred gently, “SCP-096 will be perfectly fine. I’m simply happy you are as well. In fact,” the leopard whipped around to glare at the other scientists, “In fact, I thought I ordered him to be relocated from its current containment beside SCP-871.” The scientists shuffled nervously, wincing as Gale’s bulging girth broke through another layer of cells.

The drolf frowned a doubtfully, “But he was harmless.”

Theo shook his head, “That monstrosity has torn furs limb from limb.” Gale went pale. “I suppose he saw you as another cell wall.” The leopard gripped a thick roll on the drolf’s neck with a purr, “An exquisitely soft one at that.”

Gale flinched from the touch, his sides and rear continuing to swell densely into the confines of the bunker. “And SCP-871? What the hell was that?”

“Replicating cake,” Theo grinned, patting the blubbery anthro’s side, “Needs to be disintegrated or else it replicates endlessly if you don’t finish it.”

The drolf went pale once more, “You mean..”

Theo nodded, “Gonna be growing for awhile, or at least until we can figure out a way to stop it.”

“That’s..” Gale paused for a moment, wiggling his heavy form, “Insane.” He looked to Theo, “So what now?”

The leopard smirked and took a syringe from one of the scientists. “For now,” he pushed the needle into the drolf’s wobbly neck, “You enjoy a little rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Gale felt his vision grow dim once more, a weight similar to his flab settling into his mind. Everything went blurry and then dark.

Gale awoke to the sound of chugging. Blinking blearily, he groaned and tried to turn his neck, only to find it secured in place by a tire of pudge. He still remembered everything that had transpired earlier, and it was still going on, but on a much larger scale. The sound of chugging came from industrial pipes and machinery working at some point in the distant end of the factory. Gale couldn’t see it because of his gut, a veritable ocean of white and blue flab sprawled out in front of him.

He could feel his mountain-crushing butt swelling against the thick metal walls of the warehouse, instilling a refreshing coolness to the heated masses of pudge. Gale could feel the gentle swell of the cake working hard to pillow out his form further, making it roll outwards in a glacial progression of drolf lard.

A sharp cough and jiggle got the drolf’s attention as a figure leapt off a platform situated above him. One of the drolf’s rounded moobs cushioned the figure’s descent, sending them rolling and sliding down a curve of soft, white-furred pudge.

Theo slipped off the quivering mass and grinned to the colossus of a drolf. He almost sank into Gale’s doughy neck, but the cat was nimble enough to keep moving. Pacing back and forth, the leopard padded around the voluminous surface and grinned to the titanic hybrid, “How’re you feeling?”

Gale laughed deeply from the inquiry, it sounded absurdly casual in the alien environment. And he was the majority of that environment. “I’m alright,” the drolf replied nonchalantly, “Might’ve overslept a bit.”

Theo chuckled, “I’ll allow it this time around.”

The two went quiet for a moment, with the leopard bouncing about playfully along the drolf’s heavy form and Gale wobbling as a result.

“So…what now?” the swelling drolf asked, though he suspected the answer already.

“Now,” Theo smirked, rubbing one of the drolf’s heavy cheeks, “I welcome you to our collection.” The leopard gestured to the far wall of the warehouse.

Six bold letters, larger than those on the bunker, read: SPC-3008.