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Language: en

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Josiah watched from the porch as his mom climbed 
into the van, its sides covered in painted flowers  

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and peace signs. She knelt in front of him one 
last time, ruffling his hair with a sad smile.

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“I’m sorry, Josiah,” she said, her 
voice soft. “Love has to be free—it  

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can’t be bottled up in a marriage, you know?”

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She kissed his forehead, stood up, and 
waved as she climbed into the driver’s  

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seat. Josiah waved back, not feeling 
much at all. The van rattled away,  

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leaving behind a cloud of dust and an empty 
driveway. But that was okay. The person  

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Josiah really admired wasn’t leaving—it 
was his dad, standing right next to him.

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Josiah’s dad was an exterminator. To most people, 
it wasn’t exactly a heroic job. But to Josiah,  

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it was everything. His dad was the one 
people called when their homes were overrun,  

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when ants built armies under the floorboards 
or roaches made a mess in the dark corners.

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He watched as his dad dealt with all 
kinds of pests without a shred of fear,  

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and Josiah tagged along every weekend he 
could. He loved it. Even more, he loved being  

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part of it—his dad even let him kill a few bugs 
sometimes, laughing when Josiah stomped them out.

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His dad gave him a nickname—“Blug the Bug 
Killer”—and Josiah wore it like a badge of honor. 

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Years went by, and Josiah grew into that nickname.
Josiah followed in his dad’s footsteps,  

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becoming an exterminator just like him. He got a 
job at National Pest Extermination Incorporated,  

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and he loved it. It wasn’t just about 
the work—it was the sense of power,  

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the idea that he was the one people 
relied on to reclaim their space. 

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Josiah dreamed of running his own 
extermination company one day,  

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making his dad proud. He wasn’t afraid to take 
risks either. He’d crush wasp nests with his bare  

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hands just to prove he could handle it, laughing 
through the stings, all while his coworkers and  

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clients looked on in shock. But Josiah never 
noticed their reactions. All he felt was power.  

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Smashing those pests made him feel invincible—just 
like his dad had seemed all those years ago. 

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Then came the day that changed everything. Josiah 
was working a job at an old cabin—termites had  

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turned the place into a crumbling 
disaster. He wasn’t alone this time;  

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a coworker had come along, standing beside him 
as they looked at the empty, rundown cabin. 

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"Looks like no one's home, Josiah," 
his coworker said, glancing around  

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nervously. "Maybe we should come back later?"
But Josiah wasn’t interested in waiting. He  

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shook his head, muttering something about 
time being money, and marched right up to  

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the door. Josiah stormed inside without a second 
thought, spray in one hand, lighter in the other. 

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Flames shot across the dry wood, termites 
scattering in panic. Some caught fire,  

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buzzing through the air in a frenzy. Josiah 
didn’t care. He torched everything in sight. 

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His coworker stayed outside, watching in shock 
as the situation unraveled. The termites went  

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into chaos—some on fire, buzzing through the air, 
others scattering in a frenzy. Josiah didn’t stop.  

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He kept going, screaming for them to "bring it 
on," smashing and torching anything that moved. 

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"Josiah! Get out of there!" His partner’s voice 
cracked, frantic. "The whole place is gonna blow!"  

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But Josiah didn’t hear him. He was cackling, 
a wild laugh echoing through the smoke-filled  

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cabin as he watched the bugs scatter, some of 
them burning, others crushed under his boots. 

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"Burn, you worthless pests!" he 
shouted, oblivious to everything else. 

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His coworker could only watch in horror as the 
flames roared louder, swallowing the cabin whole,  

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and Josiah stood right in the middle 
of it—flames licking at the walls,  

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the ceiling giving way above him. Everything 
became a blur—heat, smoke, the world caving in. 

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He blinked, and suddenly, it was all gone. No 
fire, no collapsing cabin, no smoke clogging  

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his lungs. Instead, Josiah found himself 
standing in a small shop. He looked around,  

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eyes wide, taking in shelves packed with 
every extermination supply he could think of. 

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He glanced up at the window, where the sign Blug's 
Pesky Solutions was painted in bold letters. His  

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reflection was there too, distorted in the glass, 
but Josiah didn’t notice it. Not yet. All he could  

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focus on was the name. He couldn’t believe it.
“Blug’s... It’s real?” he whispered, his voice  

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barely audible, tinged with disbelief. The smell 
of chemicals, the sharp tang of bug spray—it hit  

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him all at once, taking him back to those dusty 
supply stores he used to visit with his dad. 

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This was the shop he’d always dreamed of opening, 
the one he’d imagined owning someday. It was...  

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perfect. Too perfect. He felt disoriented, 
like he was drifting in a strange dream,  

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but everything felt so incredibly real.
Josiah walked through the shop, but something  

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felt off. He finally saw his reflection in 
one of the windows and stopped, staring. His  

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face was gone—replaced by glossy, segmented 
eyes, black and unblinking like an insect's. 

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He looked down at his hands, only to 
realize they weren’t hands anymore. Instead,  

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they were sharp, jointed limbs, the 
frontmost of four insect-like legs,  

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clicking slightly as he moved. His two hind legs, 
though strangely more humanoid in structure, still  

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looked alien to him—covered in a hard, chitinous 
shell that glistened under the shop lights.

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Josiah felt a movement above his head, a twitching 
sensation, and realized he had long antennae,  

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each one stretching out nearly as tall as he 
was. He stood there, towering at over two meters,  

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looking like something out of a nightmare—an 
enormous bug, distorted into a humanoid form. 

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Panic surged through him, but before he could 
react, the bell above the door chimed. A customer  

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walked in, white cane tapping on the floor. 
Josiah swallowed his panic. He focused on what he  

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knew—helping people, solving their pest problems.
"Hello! Welcome to Blug's Pesky Solutions,  

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where we'll provide you with swift solutions on 
the fly!" Josiah said, trying to sound cheerful,  

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his voice only quivering slightly. "My name's 
Jo... uh... Blug, how can I help you today?" 

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The customer smiled politely, unaware of anything 
unusual. They explained that they needed help with  

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the bedbugs that had taken over their apartment.
Josiah nodded, forcing a grin. "Bedbugs,  

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huh? Nasty little critters, but don’t 
you worry—we'll get them sorted out  

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in no time." He worked with his usual 
enthusiasm, pretending everything was fine,  

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guiding the customer through possible solutions, 
the feeling of normalcy almost enough to calm him.  

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And when the customer left, satisfied, Josiah 
allowed himself to believe it. Maybe it was all  

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in his head. Maybe he wasn’t really... a bug.
The second customer was different. Josiah was  

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behind the shelves, restocking, when he heard 
the door chime. He stepped out to greet the  

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new arrival, antennae twitching slightly as he 
moved. The moment the customer laid eyes on him,  

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they froze—staring, stiff as a board, at the sight 
of this towering, sapient, insect-like figure. 

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Josiah did his best to offer a reassuring 
smile—or whatever the equivalent of a smile was  

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now—and launched into his usual speech. "Hello! 
Welcome to Blug's Pesky Solutions! How can I—" 

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The customer’s face went pale. They didn’t say a 
word, just stood there, trembling, eyes locked on  

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him. And then, to Josiah’s confusion, he heard the 
unmistakable sound of liquid hitting the floor.  

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The customer had wet themselves.
Josiah’s eyes widened. He reached  

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for the counter, grabbed a napkin, and took a 
careful step forward. "Uh, here—you might need  

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this," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle.
In response, the customer just screamed—a loud,  

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piercing wail that made Josiah flinch. They turned 
and bolted, running out the door, their footsteps  

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fading as they sprinted down the street.
Josiah stood there, utterly befuddled. He  

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turned back toward the front of the shop, 
catching another glimpse of himself in the  

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glass window. His glossy, segmented eyes stared 
back at him, the long antennae swaying slightly,  

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his insect legs braced against the floor. 
He swallowed, his mandibles clicking as  

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unease settled deep in his chest. This 
appearance—this bizarre reflection—gnawed  

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at him. But it couldn’t be real, right? He 
couldn’t be a giant, bipedal bug... could he? 

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Josiah stood there, stunned. He turned back 
to his reflection in the glass and saw the  

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truth—he was indeed a giant, insect-like 
creature. Antennae twitched on his head,  

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his legs were thin and jointed, his skin—or 
exoskeleton—was shiny, like a beetle’s shell.  

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It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t be a bug. 
No, no. He was Blug and he was an exterminator. 

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Moments later, the shop door burst open 
again, and the customer returned—this time,  

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with a police officer in tow. The officer’s eyes 
went wide as he took in the sight of Josiah,  

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antennae twitching nervously, his jointed 
arms raised in a surrendering gesture. 

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“Whoa! Stay where you are!” the officer 
barked, immediately drawing his weapon. 

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Josiah’s heart—or whatever was left of it—pounded 
in his chest. He raised his insect-like hands  

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higher, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, 
officer, I—I can explain!” Josiah’s voice wavered,  

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sounding almost as alien as he looked.
“Get on the ground! Now!” the officer yelled,  

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his eyes never leaving Josiah. The customer 
from earlier was standing behind the officer,  

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pointing at Josiah, shaking visibly, as if 
urging the officer to do something—anything—to  

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make this nightmare disappear.
“Please, this is just a misunderstanding,” Josiah  

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said, antennae drooping as he slowly tried to 
move back. He could hear the officer calling for  

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backup into his radio, reporting that he had some 
kind of giant bug that was definitely not human. 

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Not human? He flinched at the officer’s harsh 
description, the words cutting deeper than any  

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sting. He could feel the shame creeping over him, 
hot and suffocating. He just wanted the earth to  

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open up and swallow him whole, anything to make 
this humiliation stop. How could this be real?  

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How could he be something so monstrous that 
even the police looked at him like a threat? 

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“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking, but 
the officer’s glare never softened, the barrel of  

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his gun never lowering. All Josiah could do was 
stand there, feeling smaller than he ever had,  

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wishing he could disappear.
And then, just like that,  

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everything vanished. The shop, the officer, the 
shelves—all of it gone in an instant. Josiah felt  

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himself blink out of existence along with it, 
leaving behind only emptiness and confusion. 

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But what the police officer witnessed that day 
wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was the discovery  

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of something much more dangerous. Josiah, 
once a man, was no longer just a person.  

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He was something far stranger.
Shortly after the incident,  

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"Blug's Pesky Solutions" caught the 
attention of the SCP Foundation,  

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following reports of a vanishing shop with an 
insect-like humanoid at the helm. It didn’t take  

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long for the Foundation to begin investigating 
and classify the anomaly as SCP-7386. 

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Foundation agents initially monitored 
the anomaly for several weeks, observing  

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the demanifestation and remanifestation 
patterns. Each time the shop appeared,  

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it would replace an existing building, only to 
vanish again when its true nature was revealed. 

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SCP-7386 doesn’t have a fixed location; 
instead, it pops up randomly around the world,  

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replacing another store in the area. One day, 
it may show up in a shopping plaza in Cape Town,  

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and the next, it could appear in a strip mall in 
Colorado. It never stays in one spot for long.  

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Once Josiah’s shop disappears, the original 
store reappears as if nothing had happened.

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Inside, the shop always looks the same. It 
has a single floor with aisles packed with  

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every product imaginable for dealing with 
pests—especially insects. There is a small  

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office area and a counter for Josiah to assist 
his customers. Josiah is the sole worker and  

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if asked he tells everyone he owns the shop 
and runs it just as he had always dreamed.

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Josiah, or SCP-7386-1, stands over two meters 
tall, with long antennae nearly as long as his  

00:13:15.142 --> 00:13:15.234
body. His four front legs are jointed like an 
insect's, while his two hind legs remain more  

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humanoid, making his movements surprisingly 
smooth. He looks like a bizarre blend of man  

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and cerambycid beetle, but he still acts like 
the enthusiastic exterminator he once was.

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When dealing with customers, SCP-7386-1 is 
friendly—almost overly eager—so long as no  

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one mentions his insectoid appearance. If someone 
does, his demeanor shifts to anger and distress,  

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triggering another demanifestation. The 
Foundation knows better than to provoke him.

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Although accounts of unusual phenomena potentially 
linked to SCP-7386 stretch back to the late 1990s,  

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the Foundation first formally identified 
SCP-7386 during its manifestation in  

00:13:55.560 --> 00:14:02.400
Cape Town on October 12, 2023. Foundation 
agents stationed nearby quickly reported it,  

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and a squad was dispatched to try and contain 
it. But before they could do anything, the shop,  

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along with SCP-7386-1, vanished—demanifesting 
right before their eyes. They soon realized that  

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whenever anyone commented on SCP-7386-1’s bug-like 
appearance or tried to force him out of the shop,  

00:14:22.640 --> 00:14:29.040
the whole place would vanish without a trace. 
Anyone still inside during a demanifestation? Wel  

00:14:29.600 --> 00:14:35.400
they’d disappear too—never to be seen again.
The Foundation has tried to develop protocols  

00:14:35.400 --> 00:14:40.880
to contain SCP-7386 whenever it reappeared, 
and have even managed to restrict access  

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to the shop during one of its manifestations in 
Providence, Rhode Island, and later in Telluride,  

00:14:45.560 --> 00:14:50.880
Colorado. There they boarded up windows, 
hung "Permanently Closed" signs on the door,  

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and kept a close watch on it with disguised 
personnel to ensure no one could go inside. 

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Foundation investigations have revealed records 
pertaining to the National Pest Extermination  

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Incorporated, and documentation that refers to 
an exterminator who worked there named "Josiah,"  

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but the details were vague. The Foundation 
continues to dig into those old logs, trying  

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to piece together the story of how a man turned 
into something so monstrous, yet still clung to  

00:15:16.760 --> 00:15:23.360
the only life he ever knew—running a pest control 
shop, even if he is now more pest than human.

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SCP-7386 remains officially classified as a 
Keter-level anomaly due to its unpredictable  

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nature and dangerous ability to demanifest 
without warning, and since SCP-7386-1  

00:15:35.960 --> 00:15:40.880
displays highly volatile emotional responses 
when confronted about his transformation.

00:15:40.880 --> 00:15:47.360
The SCP Foundation maintains strict containment 
protocols for SCP-7386. Any personnel interacting  

00:15:47.360 --> 00:15:58.999
with SCP-7386-1 must avoid direct mention of 
its insectoid form, as triggering its emotional  

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response results in immediate demanifestation. 
To date, no survivors have been recovered from  

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inside the shop during these events.

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SCP-7386 remains uncontained, and its 
unpredictable manifestations continue  

00:16:08.200 --> 00:16:11.720
to pose a constant threat to public safety.

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Now go and watch another entry from the 
files of Dr. Bob, and be sure to subscribe  

00:16:15.920 --> 00:16:21.360
as we delve further and further into the 
SCP Foundation’s classified archives.