Meat Lover's Curse

Jason wasn’t a fan of the pizzeria’s latest menu addition: the "Ultimate Meat Lover's Special." It was an over-the-top creation piled high with every type of meat imaginable—pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon, meatballs, and some unidentifiable ground meat that the manager swore was a "secret blend." Customers loved it, but Jason hated the overwhelming, sickly-sweet smell that clung to the boxes.

Late one Friday night, Jason was about to clock out when the phone rang. The caller ordered an Ultimate Meat Lover’s Special, requesting it be delivered to a remote address outside town. The voice on the other end was gravelly and strange, cutting in and out like static.

“I’ll tip you well,” the customer added. “You’ll be… perfect.”

Jason hesitated, but the promise of a big tip won out. The manager handed him the pizza, winking. “Careful out there. The Meat Lover’s is a killer.”

Jason chuckled nervously and drove off into the night.

The address led Jason to a dilapidated farmhouse surrounded by tall, skeletal trees. The house was pitch black, its windows reflecting nothing but the void of night. He parked on the uneven dirt road, clutching the pizza box. The smell was worse than usual, almost metallic, like raw meat left out too long.

Jason knocked on the door. No answer.

“Pizza delivery!” he called out.

The door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit hallway. The faint glow came from candles placed haphazardly along the walls, their flames flickering unnaturally. Jason’s stomach churned, but the promise of a tip pushed him forward.

“Hello?” he called, stepping inside.

The door slammed shut behind him. He spun around, but there was no handle on the inside.

Jason turned back to the hallway, heart pounding. At the end of the hall, a figure stood—a tall, gaunt man in a tattered suit. His face was pale and sunken, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger.

“You’re just in time,” the man said, his voice low and raspy. “Bring it here.”

Jason walked slowly, every instinct screaming for him to run. He set the pizza box on a rickety table in what appeared to be a dining room. The man sat at the head of the table, joined by others who emerged from the shadows—emaciated figures with hollow cheeks and too-sharp teeth.

The man opened the box, inhaling deeply. “Ah, the aroma of life,” he said. The others around him licked their lips, their movements jerky and inhuman.

Jason stepped back. “Look, I’ll just leave this here and go—”

“Stay,” the man interrupted, his eyes locking onto Jason’s. “We need… a fresh contribution.”

Jason’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

The man gestured to the pizza. “The meats you see here? They are our offering. A piece of every delivery driver. A finger. A sliver of thigh. A strip of muscle. Each slice bears the mark of those who came before you.”

Jason’s hands shook as he stared at the pizza. Now that he looked closer, the meat wasn’t ordinary. Some of it had a disturbing texture—too fibrous, too… human.

“You’re insane!” Jason shouted, backing away.

The man’s grin widened, revealing jagged, yellow teeth. “The curse binds us all. You deliver the pizza, you deliver yourself. A piece of you will remain here forever.”

Jason bolted for the door, but the hallway stretched endlessly, the walls pulsing as if alive. The house groaned and shifted, trapping him. He stumbled into another room—this one filled with meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. Pieces of raw flesh dangled from the hooks, dripping blood onto the floor. Jason gagged, realizing some of the chunks still had tattoos, wedding bands, or bits of clothing attached.

“Don’t run,” a voice hissed behind him.

He turned to see the gaunt man and his grotesque companions stalking toward him. Their bodies twisted and elongated, their hands becoming claws.

Jason grabbed a meat hook and swung wildly, managing to strike one of the figures. It screeched, its flesh sizzling where the hook made contact. Jason didn’t wait—he ran through the house, finally finding a back door that led into the forest.

Jason ran until his lungs burned, the eerie laughter of the cursed spirits echoing behind him. He didn’t stop until he reached his car. Fumbling with his keys, he started the engine and sped away, leaving the farmhouse far behind.

When he finally got home, Jason collapsed onto his couch, trembling. He swore never to deliver another Meat Lover’s pizza.

But the curse wasn’t done with him. Over the next few days, Jason noticed changes. First, his fingertips felt numb. Then, small pieces of his skin began to flake off, leaving raw, pink flesh underneath. By the end of the week, he was missing chunks of muscle from his arms and legs. No matter how much he ate, he was always hungry.

One night, he awoke to find his reflection in the mirror—his face pale and sunken, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger.

Jason realized the truth too late. He wasn’t escaping the curse.

He was becoming part of it.

And somewhere, a new driver at Fireside Pizza was preparing to deliver the next "Meat Lover's Special."