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Kind: captions
Language: en

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An elderly woman wakes in the middle of the 
night to the sounds of chaos just outside. She  

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stumbles out of bed in her nightgown, carrying 
a lantern, and rushes to check on the cows in  

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her field. From a distance in the dark, she 
can see one of the cows lying on its side,  

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dead. Standing over it is a fox, but something is 
wrong with it. The animal is standing on two legs,  

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using its paw-like hands to tear at the cow's 
corpse. She drops her lantern and screams…

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It is the late 1940s, and the world is still 
reeling from the destruction and devastation  

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of the Second World War. While nations are 
trying desperately to rebuild and citizens  

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are mourning the fallen, the SCP Foundation has 
no time to grieve. Anomalous threats don't come  

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to a stop just because the rest of the world 
is trying to put its collective pieces back  

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together. For the members of the fifth squad 
of the Eastern Division of the SCP Foundation,  

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a global tragedy must take a 
backseat to smaller, localized,  

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and potentially anomalous tragedy in the form 
of several unusual deaths in Busan, Korea.

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Three agents are dispatched to the area 
and told to investigate while posing as  

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reporters covering the story. When they first 
arrive, they hear about a troubling eyewitness  

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account that has steered local authorities in 
the direction of animal attacks. An elderly  

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woman saw something eating one of her cows, 
a mix between a fox and a human. Naturally,  

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the authorities have written her off, but 
something in her story rings true to one of  

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the agents. He can remember tales his grandmother 
once told him, sadistic old bat that she was,  

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stories of fox people with razor-sharp 
claws and fangs glistening with fresh blood.

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The other two agents have similar cultural 
stories to share, folktales about women who  

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were foxes in disguise, living amongst hapless 
humans. Some of the stories were romantic,  

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about fox wives marrying human husbands, having 
children, and families. Others were horrible.  

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Too horrible to repeat. The three agents can 
only hope they haven't stumbled into the latter  

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type of story. But when has a mission from the 
SCP Foundation ever led to a fairytale outcome?

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The three men begin to comb the area, 
searching for any evidence of this creature,  

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a fox-person with a taste for hunting cows and 
perhaps humans as well. Before very long at all,  

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they stumble upon a beautiful young woman 
sitting serenely under a waterfall. Clad  

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in nothing more than a light robe, she tries 
to nervously hide her bare feet at the sight  

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of the strange men. But she doesn't do a very 
good job, the three agents can plainly see, in  

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place of the feet of a human woman, she has paws, 
covered in reddish-brown fur. The feet of a fox.

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This must be a young, inexperienced creature of 
her kind, they realize. Otherwise, how could they  

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have tracked her down so easily? If the men 
were smarter, less blinded by lust, laziness,  

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and an eagerness for simple answers, they might 
have asked more questions. Questions like:  

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why did we find her so quickly? Why isn't she 
hiding? How did she get close enough to kill  

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those people when she's so bad at concealing 
herself? But they don't stop and think;  

00:03:07.960 --> 00:03:13.960
don't stop to ask those questions. And that 
oversight will be what seals their fate.

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After realizing that the agents intend her no 
apparent harm, the fox woman smiles warmly at  

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them. She invites the men to come back 
to her cottage with her for a hot meal  

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and the chance to meet more of her kind. At 
first, Agent Three is unsure about the offer,  

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but the other two accept eagerly. 
Swayed by the majority vote,  

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and reminding himself that they are three armed 
men against one slender, if anomalous, woman,  

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he relents and accepts the invitation 
as well. They follow the lovely woman  

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like flies buzzing eagerly into a spider's web, 
without the slightest inkling of what's to come.

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When they reach the cottage, they find it 
modest but homey. Rustic but warm. It has a  

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certain undeniable charm, the same charm shared 
by the woman who led them there. She sits them  

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at the dining table, the picture of delighted 
hospitality. She insists on serving them, and they  

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are all too happy to let her. She pours them cups 
of plum wine and dishes out bowls of rice, pickled  

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turnips, and perfectly seasoned meat. After 
dinner, with full bellies and sleepy, wine-fogged  

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minds, the agents decide to stay the night in 
her guest beds. After all, why shouldn't they?

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This creature seems to mean them no harm,  

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and she has no reason to feel threatened or 
to try and attack them in any way. They'll  

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see about containment options in the 
morning after a good night's rest.

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Sometime in the night, Agent Three wakes to find 
Agent One is gone. Strangely, he must have gotten  

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up to use the bathroom in the night. Or rather, 
to make use of a bush outside, since there is no  

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formal bathroom in the cottage. The thought 
reminds Agent Three of his own full bladder,  

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and he tiptoes out into the night to relieve 
himself. As he stumbles through the darkness,  

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he suddenly hears muffled groaning, the wet 
slap of flesh against flesh. All at once,  

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it hits him: Agent One must be out here, 
and from the sound of it, he isn't alone.

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Surely he wouldn't...but up ahead,  

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he can make out the silhouettes of 
Agent One and the fox woman, together.

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That's a Foundation ethics violation of 
some kind, it has to be. Agent Three opens  

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his mouth to say something, when Agent One 
suddenly collapses to the ground in front  

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of the fox woman. As his eyes adjust 
to the dark, Agent Three can see that  

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his fallen friend's shirt is stained with 
blood, and his throat has been ripped out.

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In her clawed hand, the fox woman holds Agent 
One's liver, steaming with body heat in the cool  

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night air. She lifts the organ up, examining 
it with a hungry glint in her eye. Then,  

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she opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, 
and swallows the liver in a single gulp. The  

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sight reminds Agent Three of a snake devouring a 
mouse, and his stomach turns as disgust, horror,  

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and grief overwhelm his system all at once. He 
watched as the fox woman lowered one extra-sharp  

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fingernail, using it like a scalpel, and 
began to cut at the fallen man's skin.

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All at once, his legs are able to move again. He 
sprints back toward the cottage, shaking Agent  

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Two awake. Agent Three can't quite get his words 
together, his thoughts scrambled from the horror  

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he just witnessed, but he manages to get one 
coherent sentence out: "We need to leave. Now."

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Before Agent Two can ask 
what the hell is going on,  

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Agent One walks into the room as if nothing 
ever happened. Much to Agent Three's shock,  

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the man doesn't have a gaping hole where his 
liver should be. That's impossible! But wait...his  

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eyes...they're glowing yellow. That's not an SCP 
Foundation Agent. Something is terribly wrong.

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Agent Three doesn't have time to explain to 
the other Agent what's happening. He doesn't  

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have time to think. All he has time to do is 
draw his weapon, and fire at the impostor.  

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As anyone might do in this maddening 
situation, Agent Two draws his weapon,  

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pointing it at Three and ordering him to 
put the weapon away. Three tries to explain,  

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to convince him that the man he just shot is 
not their friend, but the fox in disguise.  

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He won't listen, promising to put Agent Three 
down like a mad dog for killing their comrade.

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That's when the fox sees her opening. She grabs 
hold of Agent Two from behind, knocking the gun,  

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causing it to discharge. Agent Three cries out 
in pain as the bullet pierces his flesh. Only  

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his upper shoulder, thankfully. Not a fatal 
wound. But it still hurts like absolute hell.

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He collapses to the ground from the pain, 
screaming, while the fox laughs at his misery.  

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It's a truly demonic sound, a loud, high cackle 
like nothing he's ever heard before. The sound is  

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too much, he has to get away from it, away from 
her, put something between him and this monster.  

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He drags himself into the living room, pulling the 
rice paper screen door shut. It won't protect him,  

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but at least he doesn't have to look at her. 
Unfortunately, another horror awaits him there.

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On the dining table, laid out like a roast pig 
ready for carving, is another agent, a man he and  

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the others saw at the base of the mountain a day 
before. But now...his eyes are wide and glassy,  

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his skin pale, and lifeless. He spots the 
empty bowls, and all at once, the sickening  

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truth washes over him. Their dinner...that meat 
wasn't pork, or beef. It was human. And they  

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didn't eat it with rice, but with maggots, 
crawling over the meat, slippery and white.

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His stomach can't help but empty itself,  

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and as he heaves onto the floor, he sees 
a few maggots still alive in the vomit.

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No time to think about it anymore, no time to 
sit with the horrors and let them paralyze him.  

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He needs a weapon, and fast. He manages 
to snap off a piece of a wooden beam,  

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breaking it into a jagged edge. He angles it 
just right, just in time for the fox woman to  

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tear through the rice paper door. He jams the 
jagged edge of the wooden beam into her stomach,  

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and makes a run for it. He tears out 
of the cottage and into the forest,  

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tripping over the rugged landscape and fighting 
through the agony of his gunshot wound.

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Suddenly, the sound of running water, a 
welcome oasis in the dark and the terror.  

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He stumbles onto the riverbank, attempting 
to wade through the water and cross. But  

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he has too many forces working against him: 
the pitch-black night, the fear, the pain,  

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the confusion from the blood loss. He 
slips on the wet rocks, hits his head,  

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and is swept away by the rapids. He floats 
down the river for at least half a mile before  

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he grabs hold of a branch strong enough 
to pull himself back out of the water.

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As he drags himself onto dry land, heaving 
and gasping, he realizes something. He  

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recognizes where he is. The van is just a 
few feet away! He has a sudden revelation:  

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fire. In the stories he heard growing up, fire 
was always the key to defeating an evil force.  

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He doesn't have the keys, but that doesn't 
matter. He busts the window and opens up  

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the back. There it is. A Foundation-issued 
Defoliant Projector, better known as a good  

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old-fashioned flamethrower. This should do it, if 
that evil woman manages to track him down again.

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As if summoned by his thoughts, there she is, 
emerging out of the tree line. She smiles at him,  

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eyes gleaming with menace. He raises 
the flamethrower and prepares to rain  

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down hell on the monster that killed 
his friends and fed him their flesh...

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Several days later, a Foundation 
retrieval team manages to track  

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down Agent Three. They find him with the 
fox woman, whom they manage to capture  

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and bring into custody. He is a shadow of 
himself, pale, sweaty, body fighting off  

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a severe infection. He is quickly taken 
to a hospital to recuperate. Meanwhile,  

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the Foundation is able to study the fox woman, who 
is designated SCP-953 - The Polymorphic Humanoid.

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About SCP-953, a few things are certain: she is 
a female red fox, approximately 8 kg in weight,  

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with a spine that splits around her 26th 
vertebra into nine separate tails. She  

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has polymorphic properties and is able to 
take on various other forms. Most commonly,  

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she takes on the shape of a beautiful 
Korean woman. Whenever in a human form,  

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however, she does still maintain at least one 
fox-like characteristic, such as ears, paws,  

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tail, eyes, or mannerisms. If she is able, 
she will attempt to conceal these elements  

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through various methods of disguise, 
such as clothing, hats, and hairstyles.

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In addition to her polymorphic 
abilities, SCP-953 is observed to  

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possess other supernatural abilities. She has 
the power of suggestion and telepathy. She can  

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convince others of falsehoods, concealing her 
nature and the nature of things around her.

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While the Foundation is discovering this, Agent 
Three is busy recovering from his injuries.  

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When he is discharged from the hospital, he 
sits down for an interview with a Foundation  

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Assistant Director. He lays out the Foundation's 
plans to terminate the fox woman, given her  

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malicious nature and unknown levels of power. 
Agent Three vehemently opposes this choice,  

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begging them not to do so. He advises them 
to contain her but to be cautious about  

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how they do so. Ordinary methods, 
he advises, will not be effective.

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He pleads with the Foundation to 
consider the creature's nature,  

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saying, "She's spiteful. Every little 
slight in her eyes, she saves up,  

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and the only way she knows how to repay an 
insult is death. Chaining her to the wall  

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like an animal… when she gets out, and she 
will get out, she's going to kill everyone  

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who had the slightest thing to do with 
it. She won't settle for anything else.”

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He gives suggestions for what the Foundation 
can do to contain the creature, but above all,  

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insists that she be kept alive. At this point,  

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the Interviewer points out that the Agent has 
been visiting SCP-953 in her containment cell.  

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He questions the Agent's motives, suggesting 
he might have Stockholm Syndrome. The Agent  

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refuses to consider that possibility. 
In return, the Interview has him taken  

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to Site-51 for psychological analysis. The 
containment procedures are left unchanged.

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The interviewer includes this note with 
the transcription of the interview:  

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"On a side note, I am appalled by the 
level of superstition expressed by the  

00:13:12.240 --> 00:13:16.480
Agent throughout the course of this interview. 
I am recommending that his suggestions regarding  

00:13:16.480 --> 00:13:22.320
containment be disregarded for a more scientific 
approach. We're not old Korean fishwives here,  

00:13:22.320 --> 00:13:26.160
I'm sure we can think of something 
more effective than dogs and needles."

00:13:26.160 --> 00:13:31.040
Not long after the interview, 
SCP-953 escapes from custody,  

00:13:31.040 --> 00:13:35.960
killing several Foundation personnel in 
the process. They managed to recapture her,  

00:13:35.960 --> 00:13:42.360
but she escaped again. And again. And again. 
After her sixth escape, the Foundation is  

00:13:42.360 --> 00:13:48.360
unable to track her down. She remains unseen for 
years, sneaking around under the radar, as the  

00:13:48.360 --> 00:13:53.480
Foundation waits for the inevitable bloodbath 
that will ensue when she gets bored enough.

00:13:53.480 --> 00:13:59.000
Years pass, and the date of the annual Yiffcon 
rolls around again. This is of little interest  

00:13:59.000 --> 00:14:04.560
to the Foundation. Why would they be monitoring 
the goings-on of a small furry convention? Well,  

00:14:04.560 --> 00:14:08.840
maybe they should be, because there is no 
better place in the world for a fox woman to  

00:14:08.840 --> 00:14:13.880
pass unnoticed. If anything, with only her 
ears and tail showing through her human form,  

00:14:13.880 --> 00:14:18.800
she's a bit underdressed compared to the rest 
of the attendees. A few convention-goers stop  

00:14:18.800 --> 00:14:22.360
to admire the beautiful woman with 
the reddish-brown fox ears and tail,  

00:14:22.360 --> 00:14:25.800
but most of them don't even 
give her a second glance.

00:14:25.800 --> 00:14:28.360
Unfortunately for the convention's attendees,  

00:14:28.360 --> 00:14:33.240
she has far more malicious plans than supporting 
small businesses by purchasing some art or a  

00:14:33.240 --> 00:14:37.680
body pillow. She passes out cards with her 
room number on them to various strangers,  

00:14:37.680 --> 00:14:43.360
inviting them to an after-hours party in her 
room. With her friendly face and gorgeous smile,  

00:14:43.360 --> 00:14:49.320
how could they say no? After all, it's a friendly 
event, and nothing bad ever happens at Yiffcon.

00:14:49.320 --> 00:14:55.480
When a dozen anthropomorphic animal enthusiasts 
arrive at SCP-953's room, they find a few bottles  

00:14:55.480 --> 00:15:01.040
of wine and an uneasy atmosphere. Still, they're 
excited to socialize, and thrilled to have been  

00:15:01.040 --> 00:15:06.840
invited to an after-hours party. They don't notice 
her sliding the deadbolt into place behind them,  

00:15:06.840 --> 00:15:12.720
placing her body between them and their only 
exit. An hour later, another hotel guest calls  

00:15:12.720 --> 00:15:17.560
the police to alert them to the sounds of 
horrific screams coming from down the hall. 

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But when the police arrive, they can't hear 
anything. The place is eerily quiet. As they  

00:15:23.000 --> 00:15:27.400
approach the offending room, they hear the 
sounds of a respectfully tame party inside,  

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and a beautiful woman answers the door, assuring 
them that everything is fine. The officers turn  

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and leave without a second thought, and as the 
victims inside the room continue to scream,  

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the cops can't hear a thing. They don't 
know it, but they're trapped in her thrall.

00:15:42.720 --> 00:15:47.600
The next morning, a hotel housekeeper knocks on 
the door of the ill-fated room. No one answers,  

00:15:47.600 --> 00:15:53.000
and there isn't a do-not-disturb sign on the door, 
so she lets herself in. As soon as she opens the  

00:15:53.000 --> 00:15:58.800
door, she regrets it. There, so engrossed in 
her gleeful bloodlust that she doesn't even  

00:15:58.800 --> 00:16:07.160
notice the intrusion, is SCP-953, surrounded by 
dozens of corpses. The housekeeper calls 911,  

00:16:07.160 --> 00:16:11.920
but after stuttering out a few words on the 
situation, a clawed hand grabs hold of her hair  

00:16:11.920 --> 00:16:19.320
and yanks her back inside. The poor housekeeper 
will never be seen again. Not alive, anyway.

00:16:19.320 --> 00:16:22.920
Fortunately, it was enough information to 
alert the Foundation to the situation at  

00:16:22.920 --> 00:16:28.160
hand. Unfortunately, by the time they arrive 
on the scene, there are over two dozen corpses  

00:16:28.160 --> 00:16:33.720
littering the hotel floor. One is stuffed into a 
mattress, another hanging over a shower curtain  

00:16:33.720 --> 00:16:39.600
rod, one rolled up in a carpet, and another is 
strewn across a banquet table. Any survivors are  

00:16:39.600 --> 00:16:45.080
brought into Foundation custody and given 
Class-A Amnestics to wipe their memories.

00:16:45.080 --> 00:16:50.360
The convention concludes early, under the cover 
story of a dangerous gas leak. During the chaos,  

00:16:50.360 --> 00:16:55.600
the Foundation managed to bring SCP-953 into 
custody. This time, they acknowledge the need  

00:16:55.600 --> 00:17:00.720
to amend the containment procedures they have 
been using. They can't let her escape again.

00:17:00.720 --> 00:17:06.440
Today, SCP-953 is kept in a Type 
4 containment cell at Site-17.  

00:17:06.440 --> 00:17:10.880
She is provided the following necessities: 
fresh liver, daily. Clean drinking water,  

00:17:10.880 --> 00:17:15.840
and plenty of it. A futon and clean bedding 
for it, which is laundered weekly. When she  

00:17:15.840 --> 00:17:20.640
is on her best behavior and has been especially 
nonviolent, she is occasionally presented with  

00:17:20.640 --> 00:17:27.120
a small luxury item such as a book, a dessert, 
or a bottle of plum wine. Direct human contact  

00:17:27.120 --> 00:17:33.440
with SCP-953 has been strictly prohibited due 
to her psychic abilities. Delivery of her food,  

00:17:33.440 --> 00:17:37.640
or any other items, is to be carried 
out by an automated robotic assistant.

00:17:37.640 --> 00:17:39.480
In addition to her physical containment,  

00:17:39.480 --> 00:17:43.440
psychological measures with a folkloric 
origin have been employed. The entrance  

00:17:43.440 --> 00:17:47.600
to her containment chamber is lined with 
open-cage dog kennels containing Korean  

00:17:47.600 --> 00:17:53.560
Jindo or American Foxhound dogs. She will not 
approach any canines out of an apparent aversion,  

00:17:53.560 --> 00:17:59.600
especially when one is barking. SCP-953 is 
considered extremely hostile, dangerous,  

00:17:59.600 --> 00:18:05.400
and armed at all times, given the nature of her 
razor-sharp claws and numerous deadly abilities.

00:18:05.400 --> 00:18:08.360
I found this addendum attached 
to her official file, concerning  

00:18:08.360 --> 00:18:13.160
folklore control procedures 
as they pertain to SCP-953:

00:18:13.160 --> 00:18:18.960
"As a reminder: staff assigned to SCP-953 are 
to follow all instructions for interacting with  

00:18:18.960 --> 00:18:24.040
the subject, no matter how odd or arbitrary 
they may seem. Keep in mind that the people  

00:18:24.040 --> 00:18:28.320
of Asia interacted with these beings for 
centuries before we came onto the scene:  

00:18:28.880 --> 00:18:34.440
what we think of as fairy tales were their 
version of Special Containment Procedures."

00:18:34.440 --> 00:18:39.800
Personally, I hope to never encounter 
SCP-953 under any circumstances. Though,  

00:18:39.800 --> 00:18:45.640
as I say that, a disquieting thought crosses 
my mind...it's entirely possible I have,  

00:18:45.640 --> 00:18:50.240
at some point, and simply didn't know it. 
After all, she is capable of shifting her  

00:18:50.240 --> 00:18:54.760
shape in countless ways and is a master 
of trickery and deception. I may very  

00:18:54.760 --> 00:19:00.040
well have crossed paths with her before. I 
suppose I'll never know for sure. All I know  

00:19:00.040 --> 00:19:06.720
is that I still have my liver, for now. 
And for that, I am very, very grateful.

00:19:06.720 --> 00:19:10.840
Check out the Dr. Bob Patreon and become 
a junior researcher today! Now go and  

00:19:10.840 --> 00:19:16.160
watch another entry from the files of 
Dr. Bob, like "SCP-4966 - Tubbioca:  

00:19:16.160 --> 00:19:21.040
Devourer of Souls, Consumer 
of Secrets, Lord of Munchies!"