The SCP Experience - The Burger Nobody Could Refuse | SCP-5980

Episode Date: August 28, 2026

Listen ad-free + bonus stories with a 7-day FREE trial of ⁠SCP Premium⁠. Cancel anytime. No commitment. This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ ⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Two and five Canadians will hear the words, you have cancer. That's why every step and dollar raised matters. On September 19th, join thousands in Toronto for the Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation Walk. Challenge yourself, friends, and family to walk 21 kilometers in support of life-saving research. Together, we can carry the fire and help create a world free from the fear of cancer. Register today at pmcf walk.ca.ca. The grease dripped down Dr. Klaus's chin, and he had to restrain himself from moaning. This is so good.

He said around a mouth full of burger. The man in the orange jumpsuit, Dearborn, or D-91563, as he was known to the foundation, just sat in his chair on the opposite side of Dr. Klaus's desk. He picked at his perfectly trimmed fingernails as the good doctor devoured the burger. Where did you get this? It can't be from the cafeteria. It's not, Dearborn said, looking slightly bored. He was a man of great grooming.

His black hair slicked back. His mustache trimmed neatly. His nails always immaculate. And when he smiled, some said that the wattage created by his perfectly straight, blazingly white teeth could power a small town. Deerborn sighed and stood up. Well, doctor, it's been a pleasure. But I should be getting back to work.

Plenty of toilets to scrub and floors to mop. Hold on, hold on. Dr. Klaus lifted the last bite of his burger. Why'd you bring this to me? Because I'm a nice guy. No, really. Why'd you bring this to me? Dr. Klaus leaned forward, and Deerborn sighed, turning so that the older man could see the number stenciled on the back of the orange jumpsuit.

D-9156-3. Do I know you? Have we met before? No reason you should know me. And no, we haven't met before. Not that I know of. He spread his arms. But at a foundation site, you never know what you can't remember. So who am I to say for sure if we've met or not? I see your point, but I would remember even if you would not,

and I do not recall us ever meeting. Then there's your answer. Except you never answered my question. Dr. Klaus popped the last bite of burger into his mouth and closed his eyes as he chewed slowly. Dear Lord, that has to be the best burger I've ever eaten. Right? Dearborn clapped his hands together.

Well, I'll be off. No, D-91563, you will not be off, not until you answer my question. Which question was that? Why did you bring this to me? I overheard you talking to one of the other doctors about how bad the cafeteria food is, so I thought I'd bring you something tasty. just a token of my gratitude for the foundation removing me from Stillmore and bringing me here so I can help with all the important work the foundation does.

Dearborn flashed a smile that had gotten him out of more scrapes than he could count. It had also gotten him into more trouble than he could quantify. It was a double-edged sword, that smile. I call BS on all of that, Dr. Klaus said. He rummaged in one of his desk drawers and found a napkin, which he used to sop up all the grease around his mouth and on his chin. You have an agenda, D91563. Don't we all, doctor?

And call me Dearborn. That's my name. Never have been one to enjoy the D-Class numbers you all assign us orange jump suitors. I'll stick with D-91563 if you don't mind. Deerborn shrugged. Dr. Klaus waved for him to sit back down. After a moment's hesitation, Deerborn sat, crossing his legs, and pulling the car.

cuff off of one pant leg down over what looked like a very expensive sock. Do I need to look your file-up deed 911563? If you'd like, I am sure you will anyway after I leave. Answer the question. Which one? Dr. Klaus's face began to redden. Dearborn's grin widened. Why did you bring me the burger?

Because you do not think like the others. You see potential for greatness that the rest of this site's researchers do not see. I know how they treat you, how they talk about you behind your back. I know what little respect they have for your work. Dr. Klaus glared. And what do you know about my work, D-91563? Hey, no offense meant, doctor. I'm just saying it how I see it.

You asked, remember? Yet you haven't answered me. Dr. Klaus slammed his fist on his desk. Why did you bring me a goddamn burger? Deerborn nodded and pursed his lips. That grin, having been put away for the, moment. What cut of meat would you say you just ate? Cut of meat? It's a burger. I assume it was ground meat or something like that. Yes, but from what animal? Dr. Klaus opened his mouth to

answer. Then he slowly closed it and leaned back in his desk chair. He steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes. I was going to say beef, but that seems too obvious and doesn't warrant a special delivery from you out of the blue. So, D-9-1-563, how about you tell me what cut of meat it is? No, I don't think I will tell you, but I am happy to show you. With his fingers still steepled, Dr. Klaus looked up at the ceiling. You know I can have you disappeared with just a phone call, yes? And when a D-class has disappeared, it tends not to be a pleasant experience for said D-class. I would assume as much. Then do not try my patience, D-91563.

Call me, Dearborn, and I'm an open book. Call me D-91563 one more time, and you won't ever get a burger that good again. You hold no cards here, D-91563. Dearborn stood up once more. Then goodbye, Doctor. Wait! Dearborn waited.

Sit! Dearborn did not sit. Please, Mr. Dearborn, sit. Dearborn sat. After a moment of the two staring at each other, Dearborn cleared his throat. The cut is named Ethan Chin. I believe he used some upper arm and belly meat for your burger. He also makes a burger from his thigh and lower back. He tried glutes once, but that just didn't have the right fat content. And we all know that the flavor is in the fat, right, doctor? Dr. Klaus looked a little green, but only a little. He swallowed a few times before getting himself

together. You fed me human meat? I didn't feed you anything. You gladly and willingly took the burger I offered, and you ate it of your own accord, which is a wild thing to do if you ask me. Just eat food offered by someone who is a relative stranger? I mean, they have PSAs, warning children never to accept food, candy, or rides from strangers. Yet, here you are. A two-time Ph.D. gobbling down a burger like it will save your life. Fumed. Is it drugged? Did you drug me?

What do you want? It is not drugged. I did not drug you. Let's just say that the meat has certain properties that might make folks crave another almost as soon as they finish the first. Dearborn leaned forward. Do you feel it, doctor? Do you feel the gnawing that has started in your belly?

The hunger that you know you have to satisfy soon. Otherwise, well, just otherwise. I will have you tortured in your belly. until you reveal your plan, Dearborn. I can do that, you know. Dr. Klaus's belly rumbled. Dearborn smiled. I do know. But how about you come with me first? Let me show you my operation, and then you can decide what to do. An hour of your time and my fate is in your hands. Your fate is always in my hands, D, class. Of course it is.

Dr. Klaus rubbed his face a few times, then let out an exasperated breath. Fine. Show me. But I want to... two guards with me. No guards. I insist. No guards. Dr. Klaus threw his hands in the air. Fine. I concede on this point, too. His stomach growled, and he rolled his eyes. I am most likely going to turn you in. You know that, right? I do, and it's a risk I'm willing to take. I have work and meetings until four. I will come by after that. I hope you do. Dr. Klaus waved Dearborn away, and the man in the orange jumpsuit didn't protest. Dearborn stood, gave a slight bow, and left Dr. Klaus's office, leaving the old man to sit there and wonder what in the hell just

happened, and what was going to happen. When Dr. Klaus stepped into the D-Class dormitory, he immediately put a hand to his nose. The huge room smelled of slightly packed humans, sweat and oil, armpits and feet, last night's dinner, and this morning's breakfast. Those not on duty, lounged in their bunks, their eyes locked onto Dr. Klaus, watching him closely as he walked between the rows of double bunks. Dr. Klaus kept his chin up and eyes forward. He did not acknowledge the watching D-Class personnel. He kept moving until he was almost at the far end of the dormitory. Mr. Deerborn?

Just Deerborn is fine, Doctor. Deerborn said as he swung his legs off his top bunk and jumped down to the floor, landing with all the athleticism and power of a big cat. ready to see the future? Dr. Klaus nodded. Follow me. Two and five Canadians will hear the words, You have cancer.

That's why every step and dollar raised matters. On September 19th, join thousands in Toronto for the Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation walk. Challenge yourself, friends, and family to walk 21 kilometers in support of life-saving research. Together, we can carry the fire and help create a world free from the fear of cancer. Register today at pmcf walk.ca.ca.

Dearborn led the doctor past the remaining rows of bunks to a barely noticeable door set in the back wall. When Deerborn opened the door, the doctor frowned. Is this a joke? It's a brun closet. Yes, it is. Now in we go. There's nothing in there. Exactly. Deerborn sighed. We don't have much time before evening check-in, doctor. So if you could... Dr. Klaus grumbled. then shook himself and stepped into the broom closet. Deerborn followed immediately after, closing the door behind him. They stood there in the dark, close enough that their shoulders touched. Then Deerborn let out a long, loud whistle.

It'll just be a second, Dr. Klaus didn't respond. After about five seconds, a scraping noise filled the space. Then a crack of light appeared on the far wall. The crack became a gap, which became an opening, which became a hidden door swinging wide, just barely avoiding smacking into Dr. Klaus and Dearborn. A man with literal rodent facial features peered into the broom closet. That you, Dearborn?

Yep, and I brought a guest. The rat-faced man turned his beady eyes on Dr. Klaus. Him? You brought him? This guy treats us all like dirt sandwiches. Why'd you choose him? Because he has the access we need, muckles. Muckles, the rat-faced man, sneered and nodded. Okay, but this is on you if it goes wrong.

It has always been on me, Muckles. Now, please let us in. The clock is ticking. Muckles pushed the door wider, then walked away. Deerborn followed. Dr. Klaus hesitated. Doctor? That man should be contained on sub-floor 16.

What is he doing up above here? Deerborn just looked back and smiled, then kept walking. Dr. Klaus hurried after, and the door slammed behind him. Muckles, standing right by it. The room that the old doctor found himself in was old laboratory. The equipment was outdated and dusty, and the work tables were scarred and pocked from decades of use and misuse. It all looked kind of sad. But at the opposite end of the room was a clean table, shockingly clean. And standing on the far side, a meat cleaver gripped in his

hand was a young man in his mid-thirties. He lifted the cleaver and brought it down hard and fast. No! Dr. Klaus yelled, but it was too late. The young man's hand came off at the wrist. He immediately put the cleaver down and grabbed a compression bandage from a stack of them to his right. Tearing it open with his teeth, he managed to get the bandage on the fresh stump without any trouble. My God! Don't be so dramatic, Doctor, Dearborn said. It'll grow back. Always does.

The young man said and held out his stump. Ethan Chin, pleasure to meet you. Dr. Klaus did not take the offered stump. Ethan picked up the severed hand and waved it at the doctor. Just getting breakfast ready. Got to make a few more cuts before I turn in, right guys? Oh yeah, yeah, right. Muckles said, wringing his hands like he was rubbing two paws together.

What will the count be tomorrow? Dearborn asked. Oh, oh yeah, it'll be 340. Nearly two thirds. Great. Two thirds of what? Dr. Klaus asked. Of D-Class personnel.

After breakfast tomorrow, two-thirds of the jumpsuits will have joined us. I am no longer sure about this. Dearborn gripped Dr. Klaus' shoulder. Oh, it's too late for doubts now, doctor. Dinner is about to be served. Muckles? Muckles rushed to a counter behind the table where Ethan Chin still stood,

grinning happily at everyone. When the rat-faced man returned, he had a plate with a fat burger on it, surrounded by a bed of French fries, or what looked like French fries. The second the aroma hit, Dr. Klaus's nose, he started to salivate. He didn't even pause to object.

He took that offered plate and dug into the burger and fries like he hadn't eaten in months. The three men watched him until the doctor had devoured every last bite. Dr. Klaus almost put his tongue to the plate to lick the juices clean, but stopped himself. Amazing, he said. His voice slightly slurred. May I have another? Of course, Doctor, Dearborn said, placing his hands on the man's shoulders. But only after you do us a favor. Can you do that for us, Dr. Klaus?

Would I get another burger? You get all the burgers you can eat for the rest of your life. Then yes. Yes, of course I will help. What do you need for me? Access. Access to what? To where, doctor?

To where? Fifteen minutes later, they were all standing in the cafeteria's kitchen. Ethan took a huge duffel bag he was carrying and emptied the contents into a massive steam tray. Hands, feet, hunks of legs and arms, and so many unnamed. parts all filled the tray. When will I get another burger? Dr. Klaus asked. Well, Ethan needs to prep and grind the meat.

Then he has to season it. With my help. Your help? Just have a seat over there, doctor, and be quiet, please. Dr. Klaus nodded with enthusiasm and sat down on a stool in the corner as asked. He watched closely as the meat was prepped. Ethan was an expert butcher and trimmed the pieces of himself down until the bones, tendons and cartilage were removed, leaving only the red, glistening meat.

Then Muckles helped him carry the meat to the waiting grinder. Dr. Klaus salivated the entire time. Got a little something there, Dearborn said, wiping Klaus's chin with a napkin. So, doctor, I'd like you to give me all of the security codes you know. I know quite a lot. Yes, I am aware of that, which is why you are here. I thought you only needed me to gain access to the cafeteria. True, but I have to assume you want another burger.

Oh, do I? Great, but nothing in this world is free. I'm going to need those security codes before I can promise burgers for life. Dr. Klaus's eyes narrowed. Are you trying to rip me off? Never. Dr. Klaus' eyes went wide, and he grinned. Wonderful.

All of the security codes, you say? Yes, all of them. But let's start with the subfloors first. shall we? Whatever you say, as long as I get another burger. Let me get you a pad and pen to write them all down with. Dearborn delivered the pad and pen to Dr. Klaus, then walked over to the tray of ground meat. Looking good, Ethan.

You doing all right? Ethan held up his stump, which was no longer a stump. Growing out of the cleaved flesh was a small hand already filling up with three fingers. Right as rain, Dearborn, my man. How about you? You holding up? I am indeed. you sure about all of this? Was it really so bad before?

Do you enjoy all the tests they run on you? No, not really. And I do not enjoy being taken for granted and overlooked. I have been right under their noses for years now. And yet, not one of those doctors has ever figured me out. They do not deserve this sight. Completely agree. Then we should get cooking.

John! Dr. Klaus announced. Deerborn fetched the pad of paper, smiling at the lines of codes and notations. He nodded with great satisfaction. Wonderful, doctor, just wonderful. Now, how about that burger? Oh, please.

It'll just be a moment. Dearborn went to the back counter and made Dr. Klaus a plate. He also opened his jumpsuit and did something to the burger that Dr. Klaus, thankfully, could not see. When Deerborn returned and offered the plate to Dr. Klaus, the man greedily snatched the plate away and devoured the burger. burger in five bites. More! The man shouted, shoving the empty-plated Dearborn.

I'm afraid you've hit your limit, Doctor. Deerborn said, taking the plate. What? No! You said I got to have burgers for life. You promised. And I have kept my promise. Dr. Klaus began to argue, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth as his entire throat

began to close. He grasped at his neck, his nails clawing furrows of red into the skin. I promised you burgers for life, doctor. And unfortunately, your life ends here and now. Dr. Klaus fell to the floor, pinkish foam oozing out of his mouth. He coughed once, sending pink spray up into the air, then went completely still. His eyes dead and glassy. Muckles, here's the code to subfloor 16.

Have them ready. Yes, Dearborn, they'll be ready. Dearborn turned to Ethan. We have a lot of burgers to cook. Two and five Canadians will hear the words you have key. That's why every step and dollar raised matters. On September 19th, join thousands in Toronto for the Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation Walk. Challenge yourself, friends, and family to walk 21 kilometers in support of life-saving research.

Together, we can carry the fire and help create a world free from the fear of cancer. Register today at pmcfwalk.ca.ca. You sure you want to do burgers for breakfast? Why not sausage biscuits instead? biscuits instead. Because my special sauce goes with the burgers better, and once they take a bite, it won't matter, will it? No, I guess not.

How many we making? As many as we can. Enough for the entire site if possible. I don't know if I have that much meat on me. Then cut it with whatever is on hand in the walk-in. Klaus responded to a half-and-half, so that will work. All we need is for them to keep eating. My special sauce will do the heavy lifting.

Can you handle the volume? I can handle anything. At six in the morning, the two men were ready. They offered burgers to the kitchen staff as they filtered in. No one said no, because, well, no one said no to Dearborn, not if he could help it. At 8 in the morning, with the kitchen staff help, hundreds of trays were filled with burgers, all lined up and ready to go. And Dearborn was at the end of that line, his jumpsuit open.

As a tray with an open burger passed him, he pressed his fingers to a huge boil on his abdomen, squirting yellow pus under the paddy. Make sure that's the right special sauce. Ethan said. Don't want to mix things up. Dearborn nodded and took a bite at the other boil, the one on his chest. Not to worry, Ethan.

I know which boil produces the control substance and which produces the poison. How do they not know that you are an anomaly like me? Deerborn gave a squirt of boil juice onto a burger, then moved to the next one. They never asked. And, of course, I have ways to cover my tracks. The prison doctor liked his smoothies, so it wasn't hard to add my special sauce to the recipe.

He was so compliant after that. He happily forged my physical exam results. Abel dinged, and the kitchen staff began taking the burgers out into the cafeteria, where D-Class personnel hungrily waited for their meal so they could scarf it down and get to work at the many menial tasks that the foundation had thrust upon them. Finished providing a special sauce, Deerborn dabbed at the boil with a wet towel, then closed up his jumpsuit. Let's see how it works, shall we, Ethan? Ethan nodded, and the two men stepped into the cafeteria

to watch the D-Class devour the burgers. There was some grumbling about having lunch for breakfast, but after a bite or two, all arguments ceased. When the plates were licked clean and the trays shoved aside, Deerborn clapped his hands. The cafeteria went silent. Hello, friends. I am sorry to do this to you,

but I'm going to need complete and total. control of this facility in order to do what is needed. I am sure you understand. As one, all of the orange jumpsuit clad men and women nodded. Great. Glad to see all of you are on board. Dearborn chuckled. Now, we are going to need to secure the site immediately. I will be splitting you up into teams, and you will go floor by floor, room by room, to make sure everyone is at a burger. And I mean, everyone. There are no vegetarians allowed in this plan, so get them to to eat any way you have to.

Another unison nod. Dearborn clapped Ethan on the shoulder in solidarity and grinned at the D-Class before him. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can be back here for lunch. And guess what we're having? Burgers! The entire cafeteria shouted.

Exactly. Burgers! There were cries and a few gunshots from somewhere in the site facility. Deerborn's grin turned up to 11. Sounds like Muckles has gotten his rat-faced friends free. Good for him. While he entertained security, you shall make your deliveries. The kitchen staff wheeled the cart after cart after cart of plates of burgers out into the cafeteria.

A cook handed Dearborn a plate. Thank you. This is plain? The cook nodded. Well, not for long, Dearborn said. Deerborn opened his jumpsuit and squeezed from the chest boil. Ethan's eyes went wide. Who is that burger for? The director himself.

Dearborn took a sniff of the burger. I have to say, Ethan, none of this could have happened without you. Well, thanks, man. I appreciate that. But just know that there is only room for one at the top, okay? No problem. I prefer to be in the kitchen anyway. Good man, chin. Good man. He gave a loud whistle. All right, folks. Time to make some deliveries.

The D-Class personnel all held up a plate or two with the burgers they'd been provided. Now, get to it. Every orange jumpsuit raced out of the cafeteria, ready to deliver the irresistible burgers coated in mind-controlling special sauce, while Dearborn went the opposite way, his deadly burger in hand. He whistled as he made his way to the director's office, smiling as rat-faced men overwhelmed the security guards. Dearborn was quite pleased with himself.

To think that the plan he'd hatched before getting himself arrested and thrown in prison was finally coming true made him extremely happy. He almost wanted to celebrate with a burger, but not with the one in his hands. Dearborn kept whistling until he was out the director's office door. He knocked. Sir, I have a late breakfast for you. Then he entered the code of the office and stepped inside. It has a killer sauce you'll just love.

SCP 5980 is the designation given to Ethan Chin, age 33. SCP 5980 is capable of perfect cellular regeneration and is, by definition, biologically immortal. Given the regenerative properties of SCP 590 cells, research into utilizing SCP 590 for medical treatment is currently underway. Extensive testing of samples taken from SCP 5980's body has revealed that its skin, as well as its organs, nerves, and fingernails, possess a flavor that is universally enjoyed by those that consume it. The flavor of SCP 5980 will vary depending on the consumer.

SCP 5980 exhibits a pleasant aroma regardless of the seasoning it's cooked with. SCP 5980 is amicable and will often encourage Foundation personnel to have a bite of it when they pass by. It is important to note that SCP 5980 does not exhibit any cognito-hazardous properties. Consumption of SCP 5980, while safe, is often detrimental to a subject's mental health. Thanks for listening. to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released. Two and five Canadians will hear the words, you have cancer. That's why every step and dollar raised matters. On September 19th, join thousands in Toronto for the Princess Margaret Cancer

Foundation walk. Challenge yourself, friends, and family to walk 21 kilometers in support of life-saving research. Together, we can carry the fire and help create a world free from the fear of cancer. Register today at pmcf walk.ca.ca.