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Item #: SCP-8114 Object Class: Safe Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8114 is stored in a standard containment locker at Site-16. Subjects experimenting with SCP-8114 are to be switched according to the testing researcher's discretion.
Description: SCP-8114 is a dumbbell, weighing 2.3 kilograms. SCP-8114 becomes exceedingly light when held by a living subject, returning to its baseline weight upon loss of physical contact.
Subjects transform into athletic versions of themselves after exercising with SCP-8114, appearing as highly muscular and lean. Repetition, duration, and intensity of the exercises involved are inconsequential; only correctly performing the exercises is what achieves this effect. This transformation is temporary, as subjects will revert to their original bodies over time.1 Loss of this transformation can be prevented by frequently exercising with SCP-8114.
However, if this occurs, the anomaly's secondary property manifests. SCP-8114 will progressively gain and accumulate weight in subsequent uses. In addition to making exercising difficult, this also diminishes the potency of the subject's transformation. If the subject persists, SCP-8114's weight will increase to the point of permanent immobility.
This solely affects subjects who triggered its secondary property. Subjects who have not can still manipulate SCP-8114 without issue.
History: SCP-8114 came to the Foundation's attention in the aftermath of a wellness check performed on an apartment within ████████, Colorado. The apartment was in a state disarray, with a majority of the rooms being in shambles. The apartment's sole resident, Albert Mayfield, was discovered dead in the living room. The Foundation took over the investigation after details of the case came to light, necessitating the amnestization of all relevant parties.
An autopsy revealed that Mr. Mayfield suffered a fatal heart attack. Mr. Mayfield also suffered severe gastrointestinal perforation, caused by the presence of a massive quantity of food in his stomach.2 SCP-8114 was recovered from the living room. A digital camcorder was also found. Attached below is all relevant footage confiscated from the device.
SCP-8114/Video.File1 ACCESS FILE [BEGIN LOG] [Mayfield is sitting on a couch. He opens his mouth, pauses, then chuckles.] Mayfield: Sorry. I planned a whole speech, but you know what? Something this special gotta come from the heart. My name's Albert Mayfield. Born in Wyoming, lived in ████████ for a good while now. I'm 26—well technically 27 — my birthday’s coming up soon. It's a brand new year and as you can see… a brand new me.
[Mayfield gestures to his body, shirtless and highly muscular. He points at his "ten-pack."] Mayfield: Shocking right? Never thought it would be this… [Mayfield stares at the coffee table. SCP-8114 is present, which he picks up.] Mayfield: Right. Long story short, my health was going downhill. Reeeeeeal bad. Like the problem became so huge I couldn't deny it anymore.
[Mayfield stands and approaches a floor mirror near him. He then performs a dumbbell overhead press with SCP-8114.] Mayfield: But following vigorous exercise.
[Mayfield performs a tricep extension with SCP-8114.] Mayfield: Strict dieting.
[Mayfield performs a bicep curl with SCP-8114.] Mayfield: And immense will-power, I managed to pull myself up, "straight up." Cheesy I know, but the results speak for themselves! The best part?
[Mayfield enters the walk-in kitchen in background, pulling a pizza box from the fridge. The waste container is overfilled with disposable food containers.
Mayfield sits back down.] Mayfield: I can eat crap like this again!
[Mayfield opens the box, pulling out an extra-large slice of a deep dish, meat lover's pizza. He consumes half the slice.] Mayfield: What? You thought I was eating rabbit food all this time? The thing about bodybuilders, they require a lot of calories to keep their body functioning. Same applies to me, the difference being is that I found a way to get the best of both worlds. [Faux Italian Accent] Capiche?
[Mayfield chuckles, finishing his slice.] Mayfield: On a separate note, things have really improved back at ████ State.3 I'm making rounds in the sports clubs, I've made friends… [Loud Whisper] I even got a couple of phone numbers. All thanks to this little guy!
[Mayfield sets down the pizza box and showcases SCP-8114 to the camera.
Mayfield blinks twice as his expression softens.] Mayfield: …A-And the other equipment I got laying around. I'm visiting my family for Spring Break. My folks don't know yet, it's a surprise. I can't wait to see their faces! In fact, that's why I'm redoing my journal again, thought it was appropriate considering the circumstances. Just… want people to know the new me.
Mayfield: Anyways, that's the long and short of it. Expect another video, probably soonish. Until then, Mayfield signing out.
[Mayfield salutes, still exercising with SCP-8114.] [END LOG] SCP-8114/Video.File2 ACCESS FILE [BEGIN LOG] [Mayfield is sitting on the couch, wearing a sleeveless shirt, He looks at the mirror's reflection. Mayfield caresses his abdomen tightly, scowling before looking at the camera. He smiles.] Mayfield: Hi, guess who? Heh. So big update, a lot has happened since my last video. Remember when I talked about phone numbers? Weeeeell, turns out they were also lottery numbers. And I won. Biggly. Courtney Winters.
[Mayfield slaps his knee, laughing loudly.] Mayfield: Can you believe it?! Courtney. Winters. I kid you not! The same chick who kept forgetting my name is texting me non-stop. I can barely keep up! Not that I'm complaining. We had our tenth date last night. Went to a steakhouse. Hella expensive, but you can never put a price on love, right?
Mayfield: Sidenote, I'm officially a part of the basketball team now! We got a big game coming up soon. I've heard it's gonna be televised by all the college channels. This may be the ultimate golden opportunity here. If I impress the right people… I might be able to go places. Winters will be there too. Another reason to take this seriously. Best part is, I got it all figured out— [Mayfield caresses his chest in discomfort. He frowns.] Mayfield: —Mostly figured out. Pushing yourself does not come without its consequences. Nothing too bad, it doesn't even hurt most of the time. It's just… [Mayfield's eye twitches again.] Mayfield: Annoying. But it'll pass. Pumping a little iron never hurt anyone— [Mayfield grabs SCP-8114 as he stands. His right arm suddenly and violently jolts forwards. Mayfield falls onto the coffee table, breaking it in half.] Mayfield: Goddammit! Ah… argh….
[Mayfield stumbles out of the room, soon returning with a first aid box and bathroom scale. As Mayfield dresses his wounds, he stares at the table's remains.] Mayfield: [Whisper] So it's getting worse… What the hell is going on?
[After applying bandages, Mayfield places SCP-8114 onto the scale. After a moment, Mayfield gasps.] Mayfield: That was not five fucking pounds! Are you even working right?!
[Mayfield takes SCP-8114 off the scale and steps on it instead. After a moment, Mayfield's eyes widened. He backs away slowly, eyes trained on the digital display. Mayfield hyperventilates, then scrambles into a hallway.] [A minute passes. Mayfield sprints back into the living room to retrieve SCP-8114. He leaves the area, frantically performing several bicep curls with the object. He appears to be physically struggling.] [END LOG] SCP-8114/Video.File3 ACCESS FILE [BEGIN LOG] [The coffee table is absent, SCP-8114 takes its place. Mayfield sits on the couch, arms folded. He scowls at SCP-8114. The mirror is draped over by a blue blanket.] Mayfield: Yesterday was… not good.
[Mayfield rubs his biceps, visibly shaking. He is wearing a large jacket.] Mayfield: The game was fine… at first… but I couldn't keep up. Teammates were mad. Coach was disappointed. We were at neck and neck and I..
[Mayfield huffs, slamming his fist into the couch.] Mayfield: Goddammit.
[Mayfield sniffles, approaching the camera to shut it off. Instead, he accidentally knocks over the tripod stand. The camera is now filming on the ground at a tilted angle. Mayfield hisses, pulling at his hair.] Mayfield: Goddammit!
[Mayfield snaps his head towards SCP-8114.] Mayfield: You did this… you f-fucking… fucked me! You know that?!
[Mayfield kneels in front of SCP-8114, jabbing it multiple times.] Mayfield: I fumbled it on live television! How can I go back after that performance?! What do you have to say for yourself?
[SCP-8114 remains stationary, Mayfield leans closer.] Mayfield: It's such a shame you can't talk, because I would love to hear what bullshit excuses you'd come with… you useless piece of shit. We had a good thing going and you had to throw it all away. And for what? Nothing! Literally nothing! I could've left you to rot… I could've left you in the garbage… I decided to take a chance on you… and this is how you repay me?! You— [Mayfield jabs SCP-8114 again with significant force. He pulls his finger away in apparent pain. Mayfield stands up and stomps on SCP-8114 repeatedly, shouting expletives at it. Mayfield movements become slower and disengage from further stomping. He is breathing heavily and is clenching his chest.] Mayfield: Aw… Augh… [Mayfield looks in the mirror. He removes the blanket, removes his jacket, then inspects himself in the mirror. Mayfield's body is no longer muscular and has gained an excess amount of fat. Mayfield shudders and begins to cry. He sits on the ground, SCP-8114 is right behind him.] Mayfield: No. No… t-that's not true. Ivan. I'm sorry. [Sniffle] I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of that. [Coughing] You know how touchy I can be about… this.
[Mayfield gestures to his abdomen before covering his eyes.] Mayfield: Ivan… t-the truth is… I'm happy that we met. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you. I know for a fact I wouldn't. Funny how something so great could get mixed up with Legos and rat droppings.
[Mayfield softly chuckles before exhaling sharply.] Mayfield: I knew you were special. No dumbbell could be that light. It's silly to think about but I really enjoyed your company.
[Mayfield uncovers his eyes. Both eyes are puffy and red.] Mayfield: But for the love of god I don't understand the problem here. I honestly don't! [Coughing.] Are you angry with me? Are you tired? Are your magic reserves low? Whatever it is, y-you can tell me. I'll hear you out. Just give me a sign and I'll do it. Ivan?
[Mayfield turns around and tries lifting SCP-8114 with his right hand.
SCP-8114 remains stationary.] Mayfield: Ivan, we can still fix this! A simple fix, that's all it is… please?
[Mayfield pulls SCP-8114 with both hands. SCP-8114 still remains stationary.
Mayfield whimpers.] Mayfield: I just want my body back.
[END LOG] SCP-8114/Video.File4 ACCESS FILE [BEGIN LOG] [Mayfield is sitting directly behind SCP-8114, his body is covered by a blue blanket.] Mayfield: I don't know why I'm still making these.
[Mayfield grips his right arm, cringing in discomfort.] Mayfield: Winters texted me. "Let's give our relationship a break." She said that, I kid you not. I had a feeling she would. I'm not pissed though. After all, my coach believes I suffered a bad ankle injury even though I didn't. I'm not a hypocrite… not anymore. I'll quit during break. It's not that the spotlight that forced my hand, not entirely. I never fully explained how my health went "downwards," didn't I?
[Mayfield pulls away the blanket, he is obese. Mayfield shudders as presses both hands against his distended belly.] Mayfield: I went for a check-up. Was told my BMI was bad, deep red, danger zone. It made sense: The pain. The stress. The symptoms. A recipe for an early grave. The prospect terrified me, so I sought to change it. And I did… but it's not this fantastic story I boasted about earlier. Although was is fantastical. I found a shortcut.
[Mayfield strokes SCP-8114 with the back of his hand.] Mayfield: This was the shortcut. I stumbled upon this inside a cardboard box in my uncle's attic. It felt weird to hold so I brought it home with me. That's when it happened. All I did was a single bicep curl — suddenly turned into the next Arnold Schwarzenegger and trust me things spiraled from there.
[Mayfield begins to rise up to his feet, he appears to be under tremendous strain.] Mayfield: S-Spiraled to the tippy top, then came crashing down. I can't do anything about the dumbbell now. It's been stuck there on the floor for days.
It's too heavy for me to lift anymore. To think I've been living with a cursed object for days, look what it did— [Mayfield turns his head to the kitchen. A large number of trash bags by the waste container. He freezes in place, his clenched fists are now relaxing.] Mayfield: Maybe it wasn't cursed. I doubled down didn't I? How much crap did I even eat? Did I even lose all that weight to begin with? Did I break it by pushing it too hard… or did it cut me off because I don't deserve it anymore?
[Mayfield remains, silent, staring at SCP-8114 before shaking his head.] Mayfield: I suppose it doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that I've gotten from red, to black. My body has gotten way worse than I started: I've gotten heavier, this pain keeps shooting up my arm… I felt like I was going to faint when I stood up. My heart's drumming up like mad and I hardly did anything today… I think I'm actually dying.
[Mayfield approaches the mirror, observing his reflection.] Mayfield: I've been exercising — real exercise. I've been eating like a mouse… been starving myself a-and… nothing. I've been trying every day and… still… nothing… [Mayfield rubs the wooden rim of the mirror. His eyes are watering.] Mayfield: What the hell do I do now?
[END LOG] SCP-8114/Video.File5 ACCESS FILE [BEGIN LOG] [Mayfield is performing a series of jumping jacks in the living room. He appears to be in physical pain. Mayfield stops exercising, he is heavily out of breath. disorientedly, he stands onto the scale. Moments later, he observes the LCD display and backs away in shock.] [Mayfield quickly enters the kitchen, retrieving a pill bottle and various produce from the cabinet and refrigerator respectively. Mayfield then haphazardly inserts both products into a food processor. After it is fully blended, Mayfield pours the liquid into a cup and drinks is.] [Mayfield immediately spits it out, dropping the cup into the sink. Mayfield retches, covering his mouth as he rushes into the hallway.] [Mayfield is performing a set of high knees. He abruptly clutches his chest in pain and falls to the floor. Mayfield gasps and whimpers as he adopts the fetal position. His body shakes at irregular intervals. After an hour has passed, Mayfield no longer appears in pain and rises to his knees.] [Mayfield stops in place. Mayfield looks to see his right hand has bumped into SCP-8114 as he was getting up.] [Mayfield is shuddering, his cheeks are becoming wet.] [Mayfield is sitting on the couch, slouching forwards. The lights have been turned off; the room is now only illuminated through beams of sunlight peering through the window blinds.] [Mayfield is only wearing a pair of underwear. His body is now extremely obese. Mayfield stops staring at SCP-8114, now directing his attention at the mirror. The mirror is covered by a blue blanket.] [Mayfield covers his head, shaking in silence.] [Mayfield is sitting on the couch, covering his face and shaking. His appearance is heavily disheveled, pieces of his hair also appear to be missing. Mayfield suddenly pulls his hands away and screams.] [Mayfield stands up, makes his way to a nearby table and throws a vase that was resting on top of it onto the ground, shattering it. Mayfield then throws several tables at the kitchen's cabinets, significantly damaging them on impact. Mayfield looks at the camera and throws the food processor at it, knocking it over.] [The camera is now on the ground, filming completely sideways. Loud crashing and screaming can still be heard.] [The footage's perspective is sideways. From the positioning on the floor, the living room and kitchen appears to be heavily damaged. Broken furniture and other miscellaneous objects are laying everywhere. The cabinet doors and much of the wall paper have been ripped off. Stains of various colors coat the floor. Mayfield is standing in front of the mirror, now absent of the blue blanket.] [He observes his reflection as he rubs his right thumbs against the glass. He is breathing loudly and slowly. Boils are visible on his chest and back. His body hair is also greasy, Mayfield nods.] [Mayfield gently pushes the mirror backwards, shattering the glass as it makes contact with the floor.] [The footage's perspective is sideways. Mayfield enters the living room, dumping a large collection of trifold brochure menus onto SCP-8114. He pulls out a credit card from his wallet and drops it onto the couch.] [Mayfield takes one of the menus and dials in the number on his cell phone.
Mayfield paces around the room. Much of his word are inaudible until he meanders near the camera.] Mayfield: —Yeah, I know it's a lot but we're having a big party here… yeah, I have the cash, don't sweat it… My name's Albert Mayfield… alright, I'll sit tight. Thanks.
[Mayfield rips the menu. He picks up another menu and dials in the number.] [The footage's perspective is sideways. Mayfield is sitting cross-legged on the floor, he is surrounded by large piles of foods and dishes. Much of the food is partially eaten or is falling apart onto the rug.] [Mayfield is rapidly sampling various dishes when he suddenly cringes and holds his abdomen in extreme pain. Mayfield hyperventilates, he presses against his abdomen with one hand as he hits the side of his head with the other. Multiple large bald spots are visible on his scalp, caked in dry blood.] [Mayfield's cries diminish as he spots the broken mirror in the background.
Mayfield nods as he retrieves a pizza box from the pile, pulling out a slice.
Mayfield consumes the slice, whimpering. A massive bruise is present on his abdomen.] [Through great effort, Mayfield finishes the slice and reaches to the box again. Footage abruptly ends as the camcorder runs out of battery life.] [END LOG] Footnotes 1. The exact timeframe for complete bodily reversion is indeterminate and varies between each subject.
2. Notably, the body was in the fetal position at the time of discovery.
3. The university Mr. Mayfield previously attended.
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