It's the last day of sixth grade, and there
are only seconds left before the final bell rings and school is officially out for summer. An
excitable eleven-year-old girl sits at her desk, bouncing her leg in anticipation and watching
the clock. Soon, she'll have three glorious months of freedom. But more importantly, she
can take her mom up on a life-changing promise. They made a deal when they moved
to this new town: if she could get through sixth grade with straight A's
and good feedback from her teachers, she could finally get a pet of her own. There
were some stipulations, of course. The pet can't be too big, can't make a lot of noise, and needs
to be something she can take care of by herself. It was hard work, but she buckled down,
studied hard, and even found a math tutor. The time is now, in 5...4...3...2...1! The last bell of the year rings, and the
class erupts into cheers. Summer's here! She shoves her books into her bag, and runs
out the door so quickly she barely catches her teacher's parting words of "Have
a great summer vacation, everyone!" The halls are swamped with kids
all rushing toward the buses, their parents' cars, or their final walk home
of the school year. She's right there with them, the promise of the day putting an extra spring
in her step. Many of the faces in the hall are still unfamiliar, after a year of being the
new kid in town she hasn't made many friends, but none of that matters now. She's going
to get a special friend today, something all her own that she can nurture, play with,
and won't ever have to worry about impressing. It's only a short walk to the pet store,
and then an even shorter walk to her house. As she makes her way down the sidewalk,
the sun beaming down on her smiling face, the girl lets her mind wander. What kind of
pet should she get? A dog needs to be walked, that might be too much work. A fish? Maybe, but
you can't play with a fish. You can't pet a fish, or at least it won't be happy if you try.
She remembers a pet tarantula her eccentric aunt once had, and shudders. No spiders,
definitely not. She wants something friendly, something small enough that her mom won't
complain, but something she can cuddle and really bond with. Whatever it ends up
being, she's going to take great care of it. The walk feels much longer than it is, the anticipation stretching the minutes until
they feel like hours. She spots the sign in the shape of a dog playing with a ball and her
heart skips a beat. She's reached the pet store! Inside, there are an overwhelming number of
options. She walks through the reptile section, pressing her face to the class of tanks housing
iguanas, slithery snakes, tiny darting lizards with brightly colored tails. Nearby there are fat
green tree frogs and bumpy toes with huge, watery eyes. She briefly pauses at the fish, enticed
by their vivid colors and the staggering variety of shapes and sizes. But a fish is such a boring
pet, she thinks. What can you even do with a fish? She moves on, looking at a litter of fluffy tabby
kittens. They romp and roll around on top of each other, flicking their tails and stretching their
soft paws. They're adorable, and her heart melts, but then she thinks about having to scoop
a litter box and decides to move on. There are roly-poly hamsters
and sleek-looking rats, tiny white mice with pink eyes,
and gerbils running on wheels. Suddenly, a sign catches her eye. "Exotic
pets," it reads. What could be over there? She tiptoes into the section, almost feeling like
she's stumbled into somewhere she shouldn't be. There are ferrets wiggling around and
playing with a ball. Fluffy chinchillas that look impossibly plush and soft to the
touch. Little sugar gliders peeking out of cloth pouches with wide eyes. There's
even a skunk, blinking at her curiously. But nothing feels quite right, none of these
pets seem like the one she has to bring home. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spots
something curious. A row of small cardboard packages, covered with inviting cartoonish text,
advertising something called a "Custom Pet." She picks up one of the packages and reads
the description. It sounds impossible, too good to be true. Just buy these packaged eggs,
place them anywhere in your house, and a perfectly matched pet will hatch and fit right in. It will
become exactly the kind of pet that you need. She looks for any sort of fine print,
something that might indicate this is a toy or some kind of joke. But
it looks real. Could it be...? Shyly, the girl takes one of the packages up to
the cash register. The employee goes to scan it, but there's no barcode. "Did you bring this in
with you?" The cashier asks. She shakes her head. "Okay, well we don't sell these.
So...I guess you can just take it?" The girl's eyes go wide. Really?
She can just have it for free? The cashier is already waving her off,
beckoning the next customer to come check out. Not wanting to question her good luck,
she takes off without a second thought. The run home from the pet store is a total blur
of excitement. All she wants to do is get inside, make a peanut butter sandwich, and figure
out where to put her new pet's egg before her mom gets home from work. Not that she's
doing anything wrong! It's just easier if she takes care of things before her mom can ask too
many questions. She's doing them both a favor, really, taking care of all the logistics
so her mom doesn't have to worry about it. She pulls her house key from her pocket
and unlocks the door with shaky hands. It's almost time! Forget the sandwich, the
sandwich can wait. She needs to get upstairs to her room right now and start her life
with her new pet. Whatever it ends up being. She throws her backpack on her bed, and sits
down on the floor, tearing open the cardboard packaging. Inside, there are six tiny eggs sealed
in plastic. She just wants one pet, so she'll start with one egg for now. Of course, if the pet
ends up being lonely, maybe it'll want a friend? She shakes off the thought. She can
figure all of those details out later. She's just about to puncture the plastic
so the egg can breathe when she stops. Where should she put it? She was
so excited to leave the store, she forgot to pick up a tank, or terrarium,
or somewhere a traditional pet would live. The packaging says these pets can live anywhere,
but do they really mean anywhere? If she does something wrong and her new pet is hurt or
doesn't hatch at all, it'll just break her heart. Then, she spots a potential
solution. An old dollhouse, frilly and pastel pink and surprisingly
spacious inside, sits next to her bed. She hasn't played with dolls in a while,
insisting she was too old for them when she started sixth grade. But now, she's thrilled
that she didn't get rid of her dollhouse just yet. Even if the dolls don't live there anymore,
maybe now it can be a home for something new. For whatever hatches out
of this strange little egg. Carefully, she breaks the plastic seal on
the egg and places it inside the dollhouse. All of the doll furniture and little plastic
choking hazards are gone, leaving only a pretty pink Victorian-style enclosure where the egg can
safely hatch. Now, all she has to do is wait. Later that night, the girl wakes from a deep
sleep to the sound of something moving inside the dollhouse. The skitter of tiny legs, the rustling
of something inside the formerly vacant dollhouse. She sits up and is about to go peek inside,
when a chill of fear runs down her spine. What if it's something horrible? She
doesn't know what kind of eggs those were, she'd never seen anything like them
before. What if it's a spider, or a worm, or some other awful monstrous
thing she can't even imagine? And she brought it into her home, to where she
and her mom sleep, without even questioning it? She sits for a moment, the only sound the
rustling of the thing in the dollhouse and her own short, panicked breaths.
Then, there's another sound. Light and sweet, like a little bird
chirping. It's coming from the dollhouse. Curiosity finally gets the better
of her, and she opens the dollhouse, lifting the roof off. Inside, she spots it. Her
new pet. Feathery soft fur, pastel pink and white, covers the little animal, which is currently
exploring its new home delightedly. It flicks around a poofy little tail that
looks a bit like a lavender feather duster, and stops to blink up at her with
two large, friendly purple eyes. Slowly, she reaches a hand down to pet the animal,
and it nuzzles into her palm, body vibrating with something like a kitten's purr. Any tension she
felt before melts out of her body as she realizes, the packaging was not lying. She put the pet
in an environment that was comforting, sweet, happy; a piece of childlike joy. And it had
become the living embodiment of those things. For a brief moment, she wonders how she'll
explain this new addition to the household, what she'll need to feed it, and what her
mom will say. But then her new best friend chirps happily again, and all she can think
is: this is going to be an amazing summer. Things worked out very well for
the girl. Meanwhile, other families across town were screaming in horror as a tiny
fire-breathing creature set their drapes ablaze, and another slowly dropped down from the ceiling
on a silvery thread, blending into the shadows. This girl was not the only child to bring home one
of these miraculous pets and hatch it in her home, and other children were much less
careful about where they put the eggs. Of course, the children weren't to blame
here. The blame lay with whoever was behind the design and widespread release of these
odd little animals, also known as SCP-1550. SCP-1550 is a species of artificially synthesized
creatures of unknown classification, who are highly adaptable to any given environment.
Their larvae will develop, grow, and change to fit whatever setting their eggs are placed in.
Though adult specimens vary greatly in appearance, they all have markings on their underbelly that
read "a Dr. Wondertainment Trademark." Because of their highly adaptable nature, it is uncertain
exactly what the original form of these creatures might look like. SCP-1550 eggs are one centimeter
long, beige in color, and stored in airtight plastic packaging that prevents them from hatching
until they are exposed to the outside air. The SCP Foundation first discovered
SCP-1550 after a collection of bizarre cardboard packages were found in the
exotic pets section of a pet store. None of the workers had ever seen these
packages before and had never even heard of SCP-1550 prior to being asked about it.
The packages were brought into containment immediately and were found to each contain
six SCP-1550 eggs in airtight containers. The original packaging also
contained an instruction leaflet, which I've managed to get my
hands on a copy of. It reads: "Hey Kids! Your parents aren't letting
you get a dog or cat? Don't fret, buy a Dr. Wondertainment Custom-Pet™! A
Dr. Wondertainment's Custom-Pet™ is far superior to an ordinary and boring cat or dog
due to their original Adapto-Eggs™ packaging, a Dr. Wondertainment invention! Just leave
your Custom-Pet™ Adapto-Eggs™ around the house and when they hatch they'll
fit right in. Perfect for apartments! To get your very own Custom-Pets™ is
easy kids! Just put an egg in your house and break the plastic seal to give
your new pet some air so it can hatch. Your new pet will be perfect for
where you live, wherever you live! If your new Custom-Pet™ seems lonely
just add another Adapto-Egg™ and get him a new friend! Dr. Wondertainment is not
responsible for injuries or death caused by this or any other product. Wondertainment
Custom-Pets™ are shipped out pre-fixed!" Who exactly is this Dr. Wondertainment? A person?
A corporation? A highly intelligent octopus with a penchant for toy design? The identity of the
force behind the trademark is undetermined, but whatever, Dr. Wondertainment is, one thing is
certain: The toys they create are highly unusual. Dozens of Wondertainment's creations have
been contained by the SCP Foundation, including SCP-2855, SCP-2396, and SCP-111.
They range from useful, to whimsical, to downright destructive, and the motives
behind each invention are currently unknown. SCP-1550 is just one in a long line of
anomalous toys from the shadowy toymaker. And so, like they have with so many other
Wondertainment products, the research staff at the Foundation decided to perform some
exploratory tests on these supposed "Custom Pets." First, one SCP-1550 egg was placed in
a tank of seawater and left to hatch. When it did, it produced a specimen with gills
all along its upper back behind its eyes, an array of flat and broad tails
it could use to swim efficiently. Further examination of the creature revealed
that it excreted special mucus to protect its eyes from the salt water, and a swim bladder
that was discovered during dissection. The skin of the creature was a mottled blue, giving it
natural camouflage in its seawater environment. Next, the team decided to place an egg in
freshwater and see what different adaptations were produced. A tank was filled with water from
a river behind the testing site, and the egg was placed inside until it hatched. Interestingly,
this specimen of SCP-1550 did not possess any gills, suggesting similar circumstances would not
necessarily produce the same adaptations. Instead, this specimen had enlarged lungs and a thin,
streamlined body for more efficient movement. Next, the team prepared a terrarium meant to
simulate the ecosystem of a temperate forest, and placed the next egg inside. When it
hatched, it produced a specimen of SCP-1550 covered in a layer of brown fur, with a
ridged underbelly resembling that of a snake. It also had a tail consisting of large
tentacles. Along the ridged underbelly, there was a smooth patch of skin with the Dr.
Wondertainment logo printed, like a tattoo. The team prepared a different terrarium that
simulated a desert ecosystem and allowed an egg to hatch inside. The resulting specimen was
cold-blooded, tan in color to blend in with the sand, and skilled at burrowing quickly
to protect itself from outside stressors. It was also, notably, one centimeter
larger than the previous specimens. The final terrarium was made to simulate the
environment of an average urban apartment. The egg that hatched inside produced a creature
with leathery skin, and eyes placed similarly to those of a chameleon. The demeanor of the specimen
was noticeably friendlier than its predecessors, and it acted more like a domesticated house pet
than a wild animal. Its most impressive adaptation was its method of eating. Behind the specimen's
jaw, there were strands of baleen like those found in whales, which allowed the creature to filter
feed on dust and crumbs from the terrarium floor. After these experiments proved successful, the research team decided to test the eggs in
more extreme environments. One egg was placed in a vat of molten iron. It promptly burst
into flames and was completely destroyed. The head researcher responded, "Well, what did you
expect to happen?" Which seems like a fair point. The next egg was placed inside a vacuum
chamber, which was then depressurized. The egg promptly exploded, covering the inside
of the chamber in an unidentifiable slime. These two less-than-successful experiments led the
research team to the conclusion that SCP-1550 eggs can not survive in conditions that would
be uninhabitable for any other animal. There are limits to the creatures'
adaptability. But what would happen to an egg placed in a hostile environment
filled with something recognizable? A vacuum chamber was filled with
seawater, and an egg was placed inside. The chamber was then pressurized to 15,750
psi. This time, the egg was not destroyed, but instead was able to successfully hatch.
The resulting SCP-1550 specimen bore a heavy resemblance to several deep-sea creatures, most
notably the anglerfish. Like the anglerfish, the creature had a bioluminescent lure dangling from
its forehead. It also had gills, dark grey-blue skin, flat and webbed fins, and enlarged eyes
twice the size of those found on other specimens. Its teeth were sharp and ridged,
similar to those of a shark. The head researcher made a note on this
portion of the experiment log, asking: "just what kind of child Dr. Wondertainment
is trying to sell these things to that would live in conditions where a creature
like that could be kept as a pet?" All adult specimens of SCP-1550 are kept in
a sealed 5m by 5m terrarium, which simulates desert conditions. This terrarium is monitored
via electronic surveillance, and each of the specimens is implanted with a tracking device. If
one or more of the specimens escapes, the area is locked down until all of the creatures have been
captured and placed back in their terrarium. All SCP-1550 eggs are kept in their
packaging unless being used for testing. As the Foundation does not want the
population of adult specimens to exceed twenty at any given time, excess specimens
are terminated. Honestly, that makes me a little sad. I'd be happy to take them in if the
research team can't keep them. But I digress. Having a pet is a big responsibility, and some people just can't handle the risks and
rewards that come with caring for an animal, especially one that can become an
accidental weapon if you're not careful. If your child is begging you for a pet, maybe
you should start them out with a goldfish first. A goldfish never burnt the house down. Though,
I suppose there's a first time for everything. I hope you enjoyed this anomaly, which was
recommended by Dr Bob Squad researcher “TheBQUICK” If you want to assist in recommending and
choosing future anomalies to be analyzed, you too can join the Dr Bob squad by
going to patreon dot com slash dr bob Now go and watch another entry
from the files of Dr Bob, like SCP-693 Knotty Stalker for more looks inside
the nightmarish toybox of the SCP Foundation. And make sure you subscribe and turn
on notifications, so you don’t miss a single anomaly, as we delve further and further
into the SCP Foundation’s classified archives.
