designer freaks, and I’m eyeballing you Clowns in particular. I’ve got 
a lot of ideas of what | can do with you sad sacks of shit. 


"Now you may be wondering, ‘what are my credentials to play god 
so glibly’, though not as well articulated because you're all dumb as 
stumps. Well you see, | come from a long line of Child Breakers, or 
Comprachicos, as they say in Spanish. What’s a Child Breaker you 
ask? | know none of you said anything, | was being rhetorical! As | 
was Saying, you start by taking a child. Maybe some starving street 
urchin who’s never had anyone to look after them, maybe a brat 
that’s so spoilt rotten they have no idea what suffering really is. It 
don’t really matter, but once you pick a kid you break every bone in 
their body, beat them within an inch of their life, and you set the 
bones and flesh to heal the way you want them to, add a little 
anomalous something-something, rinse and repeat as necessary 
until you got yourself a bona fide freak. Then you take the worthless, 
broken shell of a person and shove them out on stage to be leered 
and gawked at by complete strangers so that they will know they’re 
not Human anymore, that they'll never be loved or accepted by 
society again, and their only hope to keep their wretched lives is to 
keep exhibiting themselves for your personal profit. Now that’s 
comedy! 


"But, that was the old way of doing things. As fun as it was, it has 
limitations. A person can only be mutilated so much before they 
can't take no more and they kick the bucket on you, though you'd be 
surprised at how much the body can take. My Grampie once turned 
a kid inside out, | shit you not. What are you throwing up for? It 
wasn't disgusting, it was a work of art you philistine! Don't worry if it 
makes you queasy, because that's all in the past. Breeding a freak 
so that they grow up into a monster to begin with allows for much 
more radical modifications than breaking a normal kid. 


"I’ve got some ideas for creating some truly horrific abominations, 
and that’s what | need you Clowns for. Mr. Fuller tells me he picked 
up the first of you whilst he was traipsing across the Multiverse, and 
as amazing as your talents are you require certain...interventions to 
be made show ready. Those interventions don’t always work so 
sometimes you go all Pennywise on the audience. Yeah, 
Pennywise, that’s what | said. Pennywise is the clown from IT you 


numbskull. IT by Stephen King. Oh you guys are just fucking with 
me now. How can literally no one here have heard of IT? 


"Never mind. It’s not important. Not important. What’s important is 
that you originals can sometimes be quite the liability, so Fuller tells 
me he let you start experimenting on runaways to see if you could 
convert Humans into Clowns. That’s pretty fucked up, though I’m 
obviously in no position to judge. 


"For the sake of comparison, let’s just take a look at a converted 
Clown. One of you stand up. Yeah, you. Well hello nurse! What’s 
your name sweetheart? Icky? Is that supposed to be ironic because 
you’re the only Clown here that’s fuckable? What, it's a compliment. 
You know, unlike your fine self my name is not a misnomer. Trust 
me, it's enormous. Don't believe me, just take a look at this tent I'm 
pitching. That's only at half-mast. You don't think this is real? If you 
want I'll whip it out in front of everyone and... 


"Yes Mr. Fuller, | apologize. I’ve gone off topic. Returning to the 
matter of...what were we talking about? Comparative clowning, 
right. Honestly, so much blood goes into my cock it's a damn miracle 
| don't pass out. Any who, you'll note how a converted Clown such 
as Icky retains a much more Human appearance relative to the 
original Clowns. Though this may come with the benefit of a more 
manageable temper, as far as Mr. Fuller and | are concerned it's still 
a step in the wrong direction. We want Clowns that are even more 
amazing than the originals, without any of the violence, and while 
we're at it a hell of a lot dumber. | Know | said you guys was dumb, 
but you're still too smart for your own good, you know? I'm thinking 
something closer to a dog's intelligence level would be great. Smart 
enough to learn tricks, but too dumb to bitch about Mr. Fuller's, shall 
we say, Victorian-era management style. 


"How am | going to create such perfect freaks of nature you ask? 
Two words; selective breeding. 


"What’s with all the blank faces; no one ever explained the birds and 
the bees to you? It’s real simple; you take a mommy and a daddy 
that each has traits you like and get them to mate. You do the same 
thing with the offspring you like and cull the rejects, or if you're the 
sentimental type you can neuter them and send 'em off to a good 


home. After a few generations you got yourself a bona fide pedigree. 
Pedigree Clowns, how does that sound? Fancy, right? 


"Aw, there you go again. What the hell are you talking about, you 
have rights and dignity? Dignity? You’re delusional or you’ve never 
seen yourself in a mirror. You’re Clowns for fuck sakes! You don’t 
have dignity! You have giant shoes and tiny cars, but not dignity! Mr. 
Fuller, do these losers or any of the other schmucks you own have 
rights and/or dignity? No? Didn't think so. 


"But you can all cool your jets, because that’s not how I’m going to 
do it with you anyway. It takes too goddamn long. No no no, | have 
something a little more sophisticated in mind. | know this is a dumb 
question before | ask it, but do any of you know what iterated 
embryo selection is? Nobody? What about you Doctor Tinkles, did 
that lvy League education of yours not cover designer babies? | 
have in my possession some rather advanced reprogenetic 
paratechnology that was generously, and unknowingly, donated by 
the fine folks at Prometheus Labs. With this equipment | can make a 
bunch of test tube babies, read their genomes and pick the ones | 
want, then turn their stem cells into sex cells and make a whole new 
generation of embryos. The old generation goes in the trash, and 
you start all over. 


"I'll be using your fun-lovers as brood mares for the final product. 
What, would you rather | use your own lady clowns, cause | don't 
use real dames for breeding no more. It's too much of a goddamn 
nightmare getting the babies away from them. I've even had a few 
run off on me, and what I'm making here is far too valuable to risk 
losing. Fun-lovers are the best option, trust me. They don't give a 
shit about their kids once they pop out, they're not going to leave the 
Circus, and best of all they produce plenty of Milk. | wish to God it 
came out of tits instead of...that, but otherwise they're perfect. 


"This method is at least a hundred times faster than traditional 
selective breeding, and | will be able to accomplish truly amazing 
things. This Circus will be unrecognizable when I’m done with it. And 
yet, | can already see that | have some detractors. What, you have a 
moral objection to what I’m doing? You're all a bunch of bible 
thumpers all of a sudden? You’re a horde of unholy eyesores! Your 
god hates you! 


"| don’t have the right to use your genetic material without your 
consent? We've already established that you don’t have rights! | 
have Fuller's consent, that’s all | fucking need! You got a problem 
with that, feel free to grab your bindle and hit the road. Give my 
regards to the Skippy Foundation or, god help you, those goddamn 
global occult nazi bastards. Any takers? Hmmm? That’s what | 
thought. 


"Look, it ain’t that bad. For now all you have to do is spit in a tube 
and once | go over your DNA and other records I'll get those of you 
with the traits I’m looking for to hand over your sex cells. Gents get 
to jerk off into a cup, ladies get a dose of synthetic hormones and a 
giant needle shoved up their cooch. Ain’t that just the way of the 
world though? 


"What are you taking about? What do you mean that’s not how it 
works with Clowns? |...uh-huh, really? Look, whatever. | obviously 
need to brush on my Clown biology, but rest assured that when the 
time comes | will be collecting the required biological materials via 
the appropriate method. It’s not something I’m looking forward too, 
except maybe for you Sticky Icky. 


"Yes Mr. Fuller, | realize that’s not what you pay me for. I’m not 
going to mangle your merchandise | just...You’re going to have 
Tinkles do the actual collecting? Is that top hat cutting off the 
circulation to your brain? He’s a fucking Clown! I’m the expert here 
you sorry excuse for a Ringling Brothers themed birthday party, and 
if | say any part of this operation requires me to handle it personally 
than |...Fuller, tell your body guard to sit back down. Tell him to sit 
down. Just hold on one second there buddy | was just...hey! Get 
your filthy mitts off me you upside down faced goon! Put me down! 
Oh, I’m glad we're taking this outside, you don’t scare me! I’ve taken 
down bigger maroons then you. Do you all hear that! | ain’t scared of 
none of you freaks! Fuck you, you can’t treat me like this! 


"?M RICHARD CUNNILINGUS NORMUS!"" 


« Herman Fuller Can Shove It Up His Ass | Dread & Circuses 
Hub |Upside-Down Cake » 


Upside-Down Cake 


« Clown Breeding 101 with Prof. Richard C. Normus | Dread & 
Circuses Hub | A Real Humdinger » 


“So how about this: we set it up like it’s a normal daredevil routine, 
with a guy on a motorcycle jumping over an audience member, and 
I’m the plant in the audience. He flies off the ramp, but he doesn’t 
have enough speed. He’s going to crash into me! | scream, the 
audience screams, everyone screams! Then, at the last second, | 
open wide and swallow him whole! W’d’ya think?” 


Motormouth was in the breakroom of Clown Alley, the little trailer 
outside the Big Top that housed the Circus’s entire Clown 
population. Of course, it was only little on the outside. The Clowns 
had converted the trailer into an orthotope, giving them plenty of 
hyperdimensional living space. Most of the other Circus Folk found 
the place impossible to navigate, but for some reason, Motormouth 
had always had a head for it. 


“Barney, your act is dangerous enough when someone’s holding 
your mouth open. It’s too risky for you to open up at the last 
second,” Icky, the Clown Troupe Leader, counselled him. 


“But that’s what people want; the danger!” he insisted. "The jaw- 
dropping spectacle of a death-defying act!" 


“It’s only a death-defying act if you don’t actually die,” Eugene said 
as he put a tiny olive on a comically large sandwich he had spent 
the last several minutes preparing. “Il doubt Herman would want to 
risk it, given how many people we've lost lately. Dicksy, Stretchy, 
and Madam Rezarta all nabbed by the Essie P. Plus Masky, Ken 
and...| don't know, their other goon just went AWOL, so God knows 
where they are.” 


“Don’t forget Virtuoso,” Icky added solemnly, staring sadly into her 
glass of Milk. 


“| wouldn't Icky,” Eugene said sympathetically, sitting next to 
Motormouth and setting his sandwich on the table. 


“Hey, thanks buddy,” Motormouth said as he quickly placed the 
whole sandwich into his mouth and into his second stomach. 
Eugene glared at him in cold rage for several seconds before the 
Freak started laughing. “I’m just kidding!” 


He reached into his mouth and retrieved the sandwich, completely 
intact, and placed it back on its plate. 


Eugene hardly seemed appeased. 

“You disgust me,” he said with a sad shake of his head. 
“| thought Clowns only ate candy.” 

“| put honey mustard on it!” 


The three of them all covered their ears as the staticy screech of the 
Circus's antiquated PA system crackled through the air. 


“ATTENTION! ALL HERMAN FULLER EMPLOYEES ARE TO 
REPORT TO THE RINGMASTER’S TENT IMMEDIATELY FORA 
VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!” Herman Fuller’s voice 
boomed from all around them. “I REPEAT, ALL EMPLOYEES 
REPORT TO THE RINGMASTER’S TENT AT ONCE! NO 
EXCEPTIONS!” 


“He does not sound happy,” Icky murmured anxiously. “Come on 
guys, we don’t want to be late. He might set us on fire.” 


Eugene hastily scribbled a note reading ‘Eugene’s — Touch it and 
face my fury!’ and placed it on his sandwich, and followed the other 
two outside. 


They saw everyone had taken Herman’s announcement seriously, 
as a large crowd had already assembled in front of the Ringmaster’s 
tent. A small stage had been erected, with a drawn curtain 
concealing what was no doubt an unwelcome surprise. Everyone 
seemed to be ill at ease, with a few furitive murmurs being the only 
sound to break the ominous quiet. Motormouth ducked off to join the 


minutes, the subject began to look flush, exhibiting 
symptoms not too dissimilar from sexual activity. Subject 
complained of being thirsty and hungry. Due to safety 
concerns and to avoid a re-test, D-252 was given two 
liters of brand soda with a large pepperoni pizza and 

brand onion ring flavored snacks. Subject ate food 
relatively quickly, forgot what he was doing halfway 
through, staggered around laughing for the next five 
minutes, and continued eating. At forty (40) minutes 
elapsed time, subject repeated the word “indubitably” in 
different inflections and accents. This continued for the 
next seven minutes. AgentP __, who was observing at 
the time, began to laugh along with D-252 before being 
forcefully replaced by Agent G__. Upon removal, Agent 
P threatened to quit and expose the Foundation out 
of anger, but was safely detained and recovered in the 
next three days. Near the end of the first hour, Subject 
D-252 began to remove shirt, pants, all undergarments 
and proceeded to [REDACTED]. 


Observed Behavior Upon Exiting SCP-623: 
Immediately after leaving SCP-623, Subject D-252 
began to scream violently and spastically attack its 
escorts. D-252 was restrained and detained. Upon being 
released into its cell, the subject began to claw his own 
face off in horror, screaming about how he still sees it 
without his eyes. Subject was then placed in restraints 
for the remainder of observation to ensure he could no 
longer harm himself or others. Subject did not recover for 
nearly two (2) weeks and was later transferred off-site. 


Test #3: One (1) day 


Test Subject: Subject D-253, Male Caucasian, 35 years 
old, 118kg, 198cm. Additional information should include 
that Subject D-253 was previously charged with serial 
murder, animal cruelty, [DATA EXPUNGED]. Their 
psychological evaluation showed an additional history of 
sociopathy and regular outbursts of anger. 


Observed Behavior Within SCP-623: Subject D-253 


other Freaks, whereas Icky took her place at the front of the Clowns. 
“Any of you know what this is about?” she asked. 


“Must be something big to call everyone out,” Pius replied. “That’s 
rarely something good.” 


“It’s never anything good. Name one time it was good,” Eugene said. 
“Well...there was the time he introduced us to Dicksy.” 

“How was that good? Dicksy was a jerk who treated us like chattel!” 
“But then we got to see Manny beat him up. That wasn’t too bad.” 


The mention of the Man with the Upside-Down Face caused Icky to 
notice that he was nowhere to be seen. 


“Where is Manny?” she asked. 


Before anyone could answer, Herman Fuller strode onto the stage, 
and none dared to utter even the slightest peep. The tall, skinny, 
beanpole of a man looked unusually forlorn, his head hung low and 
a handkerchief tightly clutched in his hand. 


“Friends, I’m afraid | have some terrible news,” he said, dabbing his 
crocodile tears with the handkerchief. “Last night, my Freewheelers 
— my sweet, innocent, helpless little Freewheelers — were 
murdered!” 


The crowd remained deathly silent. Everyone hated the 
Freewheelers, the animal-doll-tricycle things Herman had used to 
spy on and torment them, but they feared how they might be 
punished for this new act of rebellion.