Brief
SCP-TOY — SCP-2295
SCP-2295 FILE
Item #: SCP-2295Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2295 is to be kept in a standard containment locker within Storage Wing-25 in Site-37.
Personnel with Level 3 or higher security clearance are authorized to perform tests on SCP-2295 after filling out the appropriate paperwork. Please contact Dr. Gergis if required access to SCP-2295 is expected to exceed twenty-four (24) hours.
Description: SCP-2295 is a patchwork stuffed bear, approximately 0.46m from 'head' to 'foot,' and stuffed with synthetic fiber and cotton. SCP-2295 has a small, anatomically correct pin of a heart on the left side of its thorax, and a bow wrapped around its neck. The fabric and color of SCP-2295's patches vary. Tests confirm that no components of SCP-2295 contain any anomalous chemical properties.
SCP-2295 enters an active state when within two (2) meters of a human sustaining major trauma to an organ. When in the proximity of two or more possible subjects, SCP-2295 will invariably choose the youngest subject. SCP-2295 will anomalously produce scissors, white thread, and either sewing needles or a crocheting hook from its mouth and use any fabric and stuffing in close proximity1 to fashion an instance of SCP-2295-1, a patchwork imitation of the subject's organ2. SCP-2295-1 vanishes from sight and the subject falls into a state of unconsciousness. SCP-2295-1 instances then replace the subject's damaged organ via anomalous means. The whereabouts of organs replaced this way are undetermined.
If there is no usable material in close proximity, SCP-2295 will use fabric and stuffing from itself. SCP-2295 regenerates one (1) gram of stuffing every day until completely replacing any lost or used stuffing. Note that fabric used this way does not regenerate, and additional fabric must be placed near SCP-2295 for the purpose of self-mending.
Instances of SCP-2295-1 successfully carry out their respective functions despite the numerous expected biological, chemical, and medical incompatibilities. Once within the subject, adjacent tissues and veins attach to the imitated organ without observable complications. There have been no cases of rejected SCP-2295-1 instances, and all subjects recorded at the time of writing made full recoveries.
Test Log-2295
Testing approved to test the limitations of SCP-2295. Materials provided within testing chamber.
+Test Log Addendum-2295: Document 2295 was recovered taped to SCP-2295 inside the site of a crashed mail delivery vehicle. Document-2295 is a red "Get Well" card with the text "KAIROS THE BEAR" written on the front cover.
+Recovered Document 2295 Footnotes
- Materials have included yarn, textile, cloth, cotton, silk, synthetic fiber, polyester, wool, and thread.
- How SCP-2295 is capable of the dexterity necessary for these actions is unknown.
Read more at scp-wiki.wikidot.com
The testing chamber was quiet and sterile, except for the soft beeping of medical monitors.
You stood in the center of the room, wrists and ankles secured to a reinforced medical chair. A deep, bleeding gash had been deliberately cut into your left forearm for this test — a clean 12-centimeter laceration that went down to the muscle. Blood steadily dripped onto the white tile floor.
On a small table three meters away sat SCP-2295.
It was a small, handmade patchwork teddy bear, about 35 cm tall. Its body was made of mismatched colorful fabric scraps — faded blues, soft yellows, and worn greens — all stitched together with visible, slightly crooked seams. One button eye was slightly larger than the other, and a large, crudely sewn heart-shaped patch sat prominently on its chest.
The bear was completely still.
For the first twenty seconds, nothing happened.
Then SCP-2295’s head slowly turned toward you. Its mismatched button eyes seemed to focus on the bleeding wound on your arm. The bear’s entire body language changed — it sat up straighter, its head tilting with clear concern.
It slid off the table with a soft thump and waddled toward you on its stubby legs. Its movements were gentle and careful, like a worried child approaching an injured friend.
When it reached your chair, SCP-2295 stopped and looked up at your face for a moment, as if checking on you. Then its gaze returned to the deep cut on your forearm.
The bear raised both paws and placed them gently on either side of the wound. Its touch was surprisingly warm and soft.
What happened next was disturbingly fast.
SCP-2295 leaned forward and began “operating.” Its small paws moved with surgical precision. It carefully pulled the edges of the wound apart, then reached inside. With a soft tearing sound, it removed a small piece of damaged muscle and set it aside on the floor.
The bear then took a piece of its own patchwork fabric from its chest area (pulling a colorful scrap free) and a clump of soft white stuffing. It worked rapidly, stitching and packing the materials into the open wound with tiny, expert stitches.
You felt almost no pain — only a strange, warm pressure.
Within forty-five seconds, the procedure was complete.
Where the deep gash had been, there was now a neatly stitched patch of colorful fabric and cotton. The wound was completely sealed. The new “muscle” felt firm, slightly squishy, but strangely functional. You could still move your fingers and flex your arm without issue.
SCP-2295 took a small step back and looked up at you again.
It raised one paw and gently patted your knee twice — a clear “there, there” gesture. Then it tilted its head, its button eyes seeming to ask: “Are you okay now?”
The bear stood there for a moment longer, watching you carefully. After confirming you were no longer bleeding, it turned around and waddled slowly back toward its table, its movements now visibly slower and more tired. It looked exhausted.
Once it reached the table, SCP-2295 climbed back up with some effort, sat down, and slumped slightly, as if it needed to rest after the surgery.
The colorful patchwork on its chest now had a small, fresh hole where it had taken material from itself to heal you.
It remained completely still again, but its head was still turned slightly in your direction — quietly watching over you.
