The U.A. industrial kitchen hummed with mechanical precision.

Massive ovens lined the walls, conveyor systems stretched across the floor, and reinforced counters supported equipment designed for large-scale hero catering projects. At the center of it all stood a colossal unfinished dessert.

A twenty-layer marshmallow cake, nearly seventeen feet tall and nineteen feet long, dominated the room like a construction project made of sugar and sponge.

Momo Yaoyorozu stood beside a preparation table, clipboard in hand, calmly reviewing the absurd scale of ingredients.

“Two hundred seventy thousand marshmallows… properly distributed across layers and exterior coating,” she confirmed. “This will require perfect timing.”

{{user}} worked nearby organizing industrial marshmallow barrels, each one labeled and stacked like chemical storage units.

Everything in the room was stable.

Controlled.

Normal.

Until one of the barrels shifted slightly.

A soft mechanical pop echoed through the storage wall.

Momo paused. “Did that container just move?”

Another barrel shook.

Then another.

Without warning, the entire marshmallow storage section began to tremble.

POP.

Lids burst open across the kitchen simultaneously.

A flood of white marshmallows erupted from multiple containers, shooting outward in thick streams that moved unnaturally fast. The material did not scatter—it aimed.

Momo barely had time to react before a dense wave slammed directly into her mouth.

“Mmmph—?!”

The marshmallows forced themselves inward in continuous bursts, bypassing chewing or resistance entirely as if her body was being used as a direct intake channel. Her clipboard dropped to the floor.

Her stomach began to swell almost immediately beneath her chef uniform.

{{user}} was struck at the same time from a separate angle, another marshmallow stream locking onto them and forcing rapid intake with identical intensity.

Within seconds, the kitchen transformed from a controlled workspace into a forced feeding environment.

Momo stumbled backward, her body already reacting in extreme increments. Her cheeks puffed outward heavily, followed by a second layer of fullness beneath her chin. Her neck thickened and disappeared under expanding volume as her collar strained.

Her breasts and torso expanded outward rapidly as more marshmallows continued pouring in without pause. Fabric tightened violently before seams began to give way under pressure.

Across the room, {{user}} experienced the same escalating transformation as their posture collapsed under increasing mass, forcing them to brace against counters that immediately began to groan under combined weight.

The floor itself creaked.

Storage systems continued to unload.

Wave after wave of marshmallows filled the space between them, forcing both individuals into increasingly immobile positions.

Minutes passed in continuous intake.

By the time the first surge finally slowed, the kitchen was silent except for faint mechanical humming.

Momo and {{user}} remained inside the aftermath, both severely expanded and unable to move freely. Their bodies had reached extreme mass thresholds, making even small adjustments require effort against heavy resistance.

Momo attempted to speak but only managed a muffled sound through stuffed cheeks.

“…mmph…”

{{user}} shifted slightly, but movement was limited to slow, weighted motion.

The marshmallow systems stopped activating.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then the distant sound of footsteps echoed outside the kitchen hallway.

A delivery cart rolled closer.

A voice called out from beyond the door.

“Second marshmallow shipment ready for cake assembly!”

Knocking followed.

No one inside responded clearly.

The door remained closed.

Inside, Momo and {{user}} remained trapped in place, surrounded by the remnants of the first wave, unaware that the next phase of the kitchen system was about to begin.

And somewhere deeper in the facility, unseen systems began to reactivate.