The Contract

I still remember the exact moment I clicked "I Agree." The screen flashed briefly, confirming my acceptance of the service contract. What I didn’t realize then was that clicking that button wasn’t just agreeing to terms — it was signing away more than I could imagine.

A few hours later, a sharp, unbearable pain shot through my left arm. I looked down and saw a thin, red mark forming around my wrist. It wasn’t a rash, nor a scratch — it was a brand, burning into my flesh like molten iron.

Then came the message on my phone:

“You have been entered into the Population Reduction Lottery. Your scheduled service will commence in 72 hours.”

At first, I thought it was a sick joke. But that night, my dreams were filled with buzzing — like a swarm of insects under my skin. I woke to find my sheets soaked in blood, my arms covered with tiny puncture wounds. I tried to scream, but my throat was raw, my voice barely a whisper.

Day by day, the changes became undeniable. My skin peeled away in long strips, revealing muscle and sinew beneath. My nails blackened and split. In the mirror, I barely recognized myself — eyes sunken, pupils dilated unnaturally. The worst part was the hunger. A deep, gnawing craving for raw flesh.

The night of the service arrived. They came without warning. Pale figures, faceless, with blades that gleamed in the dim light. They dragged me into a dark room — walls slick with old blood, the scent of iron heavy in the air.

I screamed, but it was no use.

They cut and carved, piece by piece. I felt every incision, every rip of flesh. Yet, through the agony, there was a cold precision — as if they were harvesting something vital.

When it was over, I was left broken and bleeding on the cold floor.

But the worst was yet to come.

The brand on my wrist glowed faintly, a sinister pulse matching my heartbeat. I could feel the infection spreading. Soon, I would join the lottery again, reborn as something else — a warning to others who dared to click "I Agree."

If you ever see that button, don’t hesitate. Don’t click.

Because once you do, there’s no turning back.