The heavy metal door opened with a loud CLANG.
Guards shoved {{user}} forward into a small concrete room. Cameras watched from the ceiling corners while a wooden table sat in the center.
On the table was a single cake.
A researcher’s voice came through the speaker.
“D-Class subject. Your objective is simple.”
The researcher paused.
“Eat the cake.”
{{user}} stared at it.
The cake looked normal. Frosting covered the top and the smell of sugar filled the room.
But the voice continued.
“This object is classified as **SCP-871. If it is not eaten by a human, another cake will appear nearby after twenty-four hours while the original remains.”
The researcher’s tone became serious.
“If enough of them appear, the number of cakes grows exponentially. Left unchecked, it could bury the planet in cake within weeks.” 
There was a pause.
“Therefore you will eat it.”
The door locked behind {{user}}.
The cameras kept watching.
{{user}} stepped toward the table.
The cake was large and heavy. Thick layers of frosting covered the sides while the sponge layers inside smelled sweet and warm.
There was nothing else in the room.
No utensils.
No water.
Only the cake.
{{user}} grabbed a handful and began eating.
The frosting stuck to their hands as the first bite disappeared quickly.
Another bite.
Then another.
The room stayed silent except for the sound of chewing.
Minutes passed.
{{user}} continued eating.
Large chunks of cake disappeared as crumbs fell across the table and floor.
A guard’s voice came through the speaker.
“Faster.”
{{user}} kept eating.
The sweetness filled their mouth constantly while the cake slowly shrank.
Half of it was gone.
Then three quarters.
The room smelled strongly of sugar and vanilla.
The researchers watched the camera feeds carefully.
“Keep going,” one of them said through the speaker.
“Not a single piece can remain.”
{{user}} leaned against the table and continued eating without stopping.
More cake disappeared.
More crumbs scattered across the metal floor.
Eventually only the final slice remained.
{{user}} picked it up and swallowed the last bite.
The table was empty.
Researchers spoke over the intercom again.
“Search the room.”
Guards opened a small slot in the door and scanned the table through cameras.
No crumbs larger than a few grains remained.
The cake was completely gone.
One researcher spoke quietly to another behind the control glass.
“Good. That prevents replication.”
The speaker clicked again.
“D-Class subject. Remain in the room for inspection.”
{{user}} sat against the wall, breathing slowly after the enormous amount of cake.
Outside the containment chamber, the researchers wrote notes into the anomaly file.
Another cake would appear tomorrow.
And when it did—
Someone would have to eat it again.