 The Office Site director Rosie was slumped in the corner of his office, armed with a large spoon and a half-eaten jar of fresh sour cream. In fact, he was his third jar that afternoon. Site 214 was an absolute mess, and it was partly his fault. The foundation facility had been completely overrun by an outbreak of anomalous sour cream, and the stuff was horribly addictive. He knew that downstairs, staff members were practically swimming in it, painting the floors white and their feeding frenzy. At least up here in his office, he was able to conceal his shameful lack of self-control. Director Rosie heard someone sliding a key card outside the door to his office, and hastily shoved the unfinished jar up his ass. In entered supervisor Quinn, his assistant and friend, who was also brandishing a container of the Evil Dairy product. Between slow mouthfuls of cream, he reprimanded director Rosie. Rosie, you have a serious problem, and so do I. I know you've been up here for three days. I've been keeping watch over this corridor. Quinn threw up the contents of his stomach over the tiled floor before continuing his rant. I'm getting you out of this office whether you like it or not. This isn't like you. Put your pants on, we're going to the Euclid Wing. Director Rosie fell to the side and landed in a pile of cream like a pathetic child. That's not my job. I haven't been to that part of the facility in over two months. Supervisor Quinn walked over and pulled him off the floor to his feet. We're all suffering here, Rosie. You're hurting, I know. But right now, we all need your leadership. Please, just get out of your office for an hour. Quinn pulled three sticks of butter out of his pocket and handed them to the crushed site director. I brought you these to hold you over. All right, Quinn. You've never failed me before, I suppose. I'll go with you, but only for an hour. Together, the two stumbled out of the room, trying to resist the temptation to lick the floor. The Euclid Wing. The south entrance to site 214's Euclid Wing looked like the gates to dairy hell. Dried sour cream was caked over every surface, to the point that stalagmites were beginning to form. Rosie and Quinn stood before the abyss, before the latter gave his friend a gentle slap on the back. You first, Rosie. I want to see you go in there. Director Rosie sighed and marched towards the checkpoint. He was only able to walk a short distance before 15 containers of sour cream materialized on the ground in front of him, blocking his way and threatening to pull him back into a vegetative state. Rosie leaned down to pick one up, and as he removed the lid, Quinn bolted forward and tore the forbidden substance from his hands, hurling it against the wall. Rosie, control yourself and eat a stick of butter. We need to stay focused down here. Quinn reminded him as he licked spilled sour cream off his fingertips. I only have one stick of butter left. Rosie muttered, looking down at the sad, squishy bar in his hand. Could I at least take one, just in case? I don't want to have a withdrawal headache if something chases us. Quinn threw up his arms in defeat and allowed Rosie to give in to his addiction, so long as they were able to keep walking. As it turned out, the state of the Euclid Wing was much worse than the rest of the defeated facility. The sour cream there had been mutated by something, pulsating as if alive. Both Rosie and Quinn became grateful that they had a jar of the normal stuff, not wanting to touch anything even in their broken state. Most of the cells, observation rooms, and laboratories were blockaded by a wall of the anomalous sour cream. The ones that weren't were wide open and eerily silent, save for slurping sounds that could sometimes be heard through the walls. It was entirely possible that whatever was living in this corner of the facility had also fallen under the spell that all the staff had. Damages aside, at least it kept them somewhat contained, Rosie supposed. However, something made him soon stop in his tracks. Quinn, stop. There's something in the dark over there. Rosie held on to his assistant's arm and readied the container of sour cream at his side. Soon, they could clearly hear the quick tapping of footsteps down the hall and the dim light revealed a tall mass approaching them. Actually, we can expect the Euclid Wing later. Rosie, I think it's time to go. Supervisor Quinn spun around on his heels and began to charge in the opposite direction. Before fleeing himself, director Rosie took aim and threw his sour cream container at the creature's ankles. He quickly followed in Quinn's direction while the monster bent over to lick the fresh substance. The two men slipped and slid across the halls as they fled to the exit. As soon as they reached the gate, they locked up the Euclid Wing until a proper cleanup crew could arrive. Let's try the communications hub next. The Communications Hub. The entrance to the communications hub looked clean enough compared to the rest of the facility, but hope turned to fear when they saw what was inside. A full pool of liquid sour cream had formed in the lower regions of the room, and floating in it were the corpses of the communications staff. They had drowned while attempting to absorb the substance into their skin. The only survivor was a woman huddled under a desk at the end of the room, dipping her fingers in and out of a jar. Oh, director Rosie, it's you. She recognized her visitors quickly. I'm sorry, but there's not much left of the communications center. Most of our equipment is jammed and the computers don't work anymore. She suddenly took a big glob of sour cream into her hand and shoved her entire fist into her mouth. One of the control panels broke away, and more of the white cream spilled out onto the floor from the gaps in the wires. Is it all right if I take some of these? Rosie asked as he gathered an armful of jars off the floor. Take whatever you need. I have plenty here. The woman replied before choking on the large mouthful. My God, Rosie, have you learned nothing? Hold the door for me, Quinn. I'm taking the stairs to the roof, and I'm getting things under control. Once on the roof above the communications center, the director forced his assistant to help him spread a thick layer of sour cream on top of the concrete, in which he carved a distress message for any passing aircraft. It's, uh, it's something, I guess. Quinn wasn't really sure how to feel about the makeshift sign. Don't worry, this sour cream is some pretty strong stuff! The cafeteria. Tired from their journey, and slightly more sober than before, Rosie and Quinn took shelter in the cafeteria, hoping to eat some proper solid food. Rosie sat at a table while his friend prepared something for the both of them in the kitchen. It sure was taking him a long time. He acted like he was the tough one, but Rosie was sure that his fat face was deep inside of a jar of the good stuff. Just as he thought that, Quinn appeared smiling and holding a tray of homemade tacos. Sure enough, he had caved and layered on spoonfuls of sour cream. Sorry about the wait. You did get out of your office for an hour like you promised, so I guess it won't hurt to give you a break. Quinn set the tray on the table. Rosie wasn't complaining. He and his friend quickly devoured the tacos, grateful to taste the good sauce again after an awfully long wait. As Rosie wiped his hand across his mouth, he noticed his friend staring at him with a smug look. Is something wrong? I was experimenting with something. You didn't notice, did you? Quinn revealed a hidden cup of plain yogurt. I didn't put sour cream on the tacos. That was yogurt. What? The director was surprised. He hadn't noticed at all. Maybe it was because of his hour-long withdrawal, but he was positive that he had tasted sour cream. Wait a second. You know what this means, right? Quinn finally had a plan that might actually work. We can't prevent the sour cream from appearing, but we can use this yogurt as a replacement to break the staff's addiction. Then bring me a crate of that stuff and let's get going! Awkwardly waddling as they attempted to run while carrying crates that were too heavy for them, Rosie and Quinn set off to feed the facility. The Basement Significantly more sober than he had been in the last few days, Rosie's brain was functioning again. He had passed by the door to the basement at least four times in the past two hours and had noticed something off about it compared to the rest of the facility. Not only was it oozing sour cream at a constant rate, but the stuff looked surprisingly fresh. Unlike everywhere else, the cream surrounding the basement had not dried or gone stale. Let's leave these crates here for a moment. I think we need to check the basement. I think there's something awful down there that we don't know about. What's wrong? Do you think there's some sort of wild sour cream orgy down there? The bottom of the crate that Quinn was holding collapsed, and the yogurt containers within rained down onto his shoes. No, probably not. It might be nothing, but Rosie had to be sure. Halfway down the basement stairs, the boys were hit by a wave of intense hunger. Their mouths watered, and cream flooded their imaginations. This time, it was Rosie's turn to urge Quinn onward. Just keep walking. We're nearly there. When they reached the bottom, the hunger became painful. The floor of the basement was aligned wall to wall with unopened jars of sour cream, leaving only a thin path through the occupied space. The basement had become an undiscovered treasure trove of dairy delight. If the rest of the staff had discovered this place, it would have been nearly impossible to save them. Clutching their stomachs, the director and his assistant travelled through the void. In the darkness, the sour cream jars formed an ellipse around a larger jar, alone in the center. It was beautiful, pure, and absolutely mesmerizing. Rosie and Quinn stood before it, and saliva poured from their mouths as their eyes became wide. This had to be the source of the anomalous sour cream infestation, and it threatened to permanently seduce them. However, Rosie had not come this far to be dragged back into his addiction. He reached into his pocket and took a single cup of plain yogurt, which he proceeded to swallow cup and all, while staring right at the large jar to assert his dominance. It ends here, you creamy parasite! Rosie yelled while pointing his finger at the jar in an accusatory manner, recognizing its defeat against the site director. The source of the sour cream hoard abandoned its army. It immediately dematerialized, off to find another nest of weak-minded individuals. The oppressive aura of hunger surrounding the facility disappeared. After a long moment of silence, Rosie and Quinn burst out laughing and embraced each other hard. Rosie, you idiot! I knew you could do it! The fight wasn't over yet. It would take weeks to clean all the spilled sour cream, and someone would need to find a way to safely dispose of the dangerous substance. At least in the end, site director Rosie was able to overcome his sour cream addiction. Site 42 is able to continue broadcasting and move up to making live-action SCP adaptations thanks to support from our viewers, subscribers, and especially our patrons. Special shout-out to our Level 5 researcher-level patron, Andrei Beysher.