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Object: Sergeant… Sergeant Daniel Hayes. 29 years old. Single. Reputation: informal leader, womanizer, jerk.
I wrote this down in the protocol, taking the photograph and slowly raising my eyes to the figure sitting in front of me. In the picture there was a strong, smirking man in uniform, confident, self-satisfied. But opposite me now was his complete opposite: a slender girl in a light sweater, hunched over, clutching a plush toy in her hands as if it was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.
— Mr. Hayes, — I said almost in a whisper, trying not to let the surprise slip into my voice, — or is it Miss?
— Doctor Miller… — she said quietly, her voice trembling, not the rough baritone Hayes once used to bark at subordinates. Now it sounded more like a fairytale princess, — What… what’s happening to me.
She squeezed the plush unknown creature tighter — I had already named it SCP-543 — and I instantly noted down the reaction: ‘subject demonstrates strong signs of dependence on the object, loss of control over own body and voice, emotional regression’.
— Daniel Hayes… — I deliberately spoke his full name, as if testing if there was still anything left of the man from the photograph.
Her shoulders twitched, and she looked away, her cheeks flushed red.
— Don’t call me that, — she whispered, squeezing the toy so hard it seemed the plush would burst any second. — I… I can’t… that’s not me.
I leaned in slightly closer, not hiding the cold curiosity of a researcher.
— Then who are you, Miss?
She squeezed her eyes shut, her breasts under the sweater trembled slightly. I couldn’t help but notice: her breathing had become far too feminine, as did her actions when nervous.
A few seconds of silence and then suddenly:
— I don’t know… I just want all this to stop… — her voice was laced with growing despair.
I sighed. I set the folder aside and leaned forward, placing my hand on her knee. She flinched as if from an electric shock, pressing the plush unknown creature even tighter against her chest. I gave her a soft smile, as if speaking not with a former sergeant but with a frightened student.
— It’s all right, — I said quietly, looking at her. — I’m here to help. No one will judge you for what’s happening to you.
Her chin quivered, her eyelashes trembled. She clung to the plush toy even tighter.
— If I go with you, will you help me? — her voice cracked, as if she was begging, almost crying.
I tilted my head slightly and looked at her with interest. A question like that from Sergeant Hayes just a week ago would have been unthinkable. Back then he would have demanded, barked, not asked. And now in front of me sat a girl, knees pressed together, her breasts trembling with anxiety, hands clutching SCP-543.
— Help… — I repeated the word deliberately slowly, as if tasting it. — That depends on what you yourself consider “help,” miss.
— I… — she faltered, turned her eyes away, her cheeks instantly flushed with red. — I want all this to stop… but… — her voice broke completely, turning into a pitiful whisper, — I can’t let him go. If I… if I let go, I feel like I’ll just disappear.
I stretched out my hand, first pulling on protective gloves, and with my fingertips barely touched the plush unknown creature. The girl instantly jerked back, pressed her back against the chair, clutching the toy to her breasts so tightly that the sweater stretched over her rounded curves.
— Don’t touch it! — her voice suddenly broke into a high-pitched scream, completely feminine, filled with panic.
I noted down in the protocol: ‘Subject demonstrates obsessive-defensive behavior when an attempt is made to remove SCP-543. Dependency level critical.’
— Interesting… — I whispered almost under my breath, but loud enough for her to hear. — You’re afraid that along with this toy you’ll disappear too?
Her eyes widened, she swallowed hard and slowly nodded.
I kept writing everything down. This wasn’t my first SCP, but it was the first time I had observed such radical changes. I raised the photo in my hands again, to at least compare the girl’s facial features with those of the confident man in the picture. The contrast was staggering.
— So then, Miss Hayes, let’s go over everything once again before we draw a conclusion, — I said slowly, looking at her over the folder, — on June fifteenth, that is ten days ago, you took part in a raid on an industrial warehouse in the suburbs.
She shifted slightly on the red chair, pressing her knees even tighter together, and nodded, looking off to the side.
— I… — her voice trembled, she nervously licked her lips. — I thought… it was just a toy. But… I… felt warm. As if he… was needed by me. And when I took it in my hands… I hid it under my jacket so the others wouldn’t see… and wouldn’t take it as evidence…
I raised my eyebrows slightly and made a note in the folder.
— Still, it’s interesting… did you consciously decide to conceal the find, or did you hear some kind of voices?
She shuddered as if struck, and pressed SCP-543 tighter against her breasts. Then she lowered her head, so that her short dark hair softly fell onto her cheeks, covering her blushing face.
— N-no… there were no voices… — her breathing faltered, and her knees pressed together so tightly that folds showed on her leggings. — I just… wanted… to take it with me… then… to hug it.
— Mm-hm. — I tilted my head to the side, noting the tremble in her fingers clutching the fabric of the toy. — And the first changes started on the third day, when you didn’t show up for work. So all these radical changes happened overnight?
She inhaled sharply, as if the admission was hard to give. Her shoulders hunched up to her ears, her gaze slid down to the floor, and her knees pressed even tighter together.
— I… already… told you… — her voice cracked, thin and trembling, as if I were interrogating not a former sergeant but a schoolgirl caught lying. — No… not right away…
I noted: repetition of information is accompanied by emotional regression.
— Yes, you did say that, — I nodded, softening my tone a little, then added gently — All right, all right, it’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s not dwell on it, I just wanted to double-check that I wrote everything down correctly.
I said it on purpose as if I were speaking not to a former sergeant, but to a fragile girl who needed to feel safe. And the effect was instant — her tense shoulders dropped slightly, and her lips quivered in a weak attempt at a smile.
— Thank you… — she breathed out barely audibly, hugging the bear so tightly that her breasts visibly rose and fell with her breathing. — When you talk like that… it makes me feel… calmer.
I noted this reaction, making an entry in the protocol. SCP-543 clearly not only alters the body but also reshapes behavioral patterns, forming dependency on gentle treatment and acceptance. Impressive… and frightening.
My gaze rose to the girl again, and I felt a strange mixture of vulnerability and submission thickening in the air.
At that moment, sighing, I wrote down the final line in the protocol:
‘Subject has completely lost male identity. Strongest emotional and bodily dependence on SCP-543 noted. Transformation into a “female model” personality is accelerating. Further observation in controlled conditions is necessary.’
I set the pen aside and said softly:
— Well then, sweetheart… it’s time to take you to our facility. There you’ll be safe.
Her voice trembled as she asked:
— And… there will I… be allowed… to take him with me?..
I smiled a little wider.
— Of course. You couldn’t live without him, could you?
She clutched the bear tighter and whispered quietly:
— Never…
Research Object: SCP-543
Object Class: Euclid
Incident Date: ████/██/██
Location: New York, office tower on █████ Avenue
Responsible Officer: Dr. Samuel Crow
Incident Description:
[08:42] In the morning....