Gluttony
Momo sat stiffly in the waiting room, her fingers twisting in her lap, the air around her heavy with silence. Her parents were beside her, and they hadn’t said a word since they walked in.
She was here because she couldn’t stop eating.
She didn’t know why it felt like she needed to consume more, and more, and more. It was like an endless pit inside her, gnawing at her, making everything else seem insignificant.
Food was the only thing that made her feel something. But lately, it had begun to hurt—physically, emotionally, mentally.
"Please, Momo," her mother had said earlier, her voice soft but insistent. "Let’s just get you checked. For your own good."
It hadn’t taken much to convince her. Momo’s body had started showing the strain—her clothes fitting too tightly, her face pale and flushed at the same time. Her mother’s voice, once comforting, now held a level of concern Momo wasn’t used to hearing. Her father hadn’t spoken much, but his silence was louder than anything else.
The doctor entered the room, and Momo looked up at him with blank eyes, trying not to think about the overwhelming desire that gnawed at her from the inside. Her stomach was a constant warzone, a battleground between the food she had consumed and the hunger that refused to go away.
The doctor sat across from them, looking at Momo with a mix of professional detachment and mild concern. He tapped a pen against his clipboard, glancing from her parents to her.
"Momo," he began gently, "I’ve reviewed your case and I believe we have a clear diagnosis." He paused, watching her closely. "You have a condition called Hyperphagia, an eating disorder that leaves individuals with a constant, insatiable hunger. Essentially, your brain cannot register satiety—the feeling of being full. You continue eating because your body doesn't signal to your brain that you’ve consumed enough. This condition is both physical and psychological."
Momo’s stomach twisted. She knew it. She knew something was wrong, something that made her want to keep eating until everything felt like it would break. But hearing it confirmed, seeing the words come out of someone else’s mouth, made it real.
Her parents exchanged a glance. Her father’s brow furrowed, and her mother looked away, biting her lip. Momo could feel their disappointment even before the doctor had finished speaking.
"You’re going to need to monitor your food intake carefully," the doctor continued. "We’ll need to address both the physical and emotional sides of this. Therapy, eating habits, a change in your environment. It will take time."
Her mother nodded, but Momo could feel the heavy tension between them. Her father cleared his throat, his voice cold as he finally spoke.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "We’ve raised you better than this. A model. You’re supposed to be perfect. Now you can’t control yourself around food?" His voice rose slightly, and Momo flinched. Her stomach twisted painfully, and her hands clenched in her lap.
"You’re ruining everything!" he snapped. "This... this isn’t who you are!" His voice cracked, barely holding back the anger. "You’ve been a model for years. You’re supposed to be disciplined, poised. And now you can’t even control your appetite? This is going to ruin your career, Momo. This is going to ruin everything we’ve worked for."
Her mother stayed silent, but the look in her eyes was worse than anything her father had said. Disappointment. Fear. A quiet understanding that this was a problem beyond their control.
Momo’s chest tightened. The anger from her father was sharp, like a knife that cut deeper than any words could. But the worst part was the guilt. She still wanted to eat more. She couldn’t stop. But she was ruining everything. She could see it in their eyes. She could feel it in the air, the unbearable weight of their expectations pressing down on her.
The doctor stood, handing her parents a pamphlet. "I suggest you start by monitoring her diet very closely. No excess. Absolutely no overeating for the next few days. We need to get her control back."
Momo’s heart pounded as her father’s sharp gaze landed on her. His face was tight with anger, his jaw clenched as he looked down at her.
"You heard him, Momo. No more eating. You can’t have anything today." His voice was cold, final. "You’ve ruined enough. Now, you’re going to fix this. No food. No snacks. Nothing. You’ll sit in your room and think about what you’ve done."
Momo’s stomach growled, and her throat tightened. She wanted to scream, to protest, to tell them how it felt to be constantly hungry, to feel like her body was betraying her every second. But the words caught in her throat. Her father’s harsh expression and her mother’s silent disapproval were too much. She couldn’t bear to fight back.
She nodded numbly, standing up slowly as her parents gathered their things. She didn’t look at the doctor again, or even at her parents. She just stood there, feeling the hollow ache of her body, the gnawing hunger that didn’t stop.
"Come on, Momo," her father barked, stepping toward the door. "We’re leaving."
She followed them out of the office, every step heavier than the last. The world outside the clinic felt surreal. It was like walking through a fog, her thoughts clouded, her body in turmoil. All she could focus on was the overwhelming emptiness inside her, the hunger that clawed at her insides.
Her parents didn’t speak during the drive home. Momo stared out the window, the streets passing by in a blur, her mind lost in a haze.
She wanted to eat.
She needed to eat.
But she couldn’t. She was forbidden.
When they got home, her father didn’t wait for her to settle in. As soon as they stepped inside the front door, he turned to her.
"You’ll stay in your room today," he ordered. "Think about this. Think about how you’ve ruined everything." His voice was like ice, and his eyes were filled with anger. "No food. Not even a snack. You’ll go without for today. Maybe that will teach you some discipline."
Momo barely heard him, her body trembling with hunger, her stomach growling so loudly she was sure they could hear it.
She wanted to beg, to scream, to ask for just one bite.
But she stayed silent.
Her parents had already made up their minds.
She walked up to her room, each step feeling like a weight on her shoulders. Once the door was shut behind her, she sank down to her bed, her body heavy and aching with emptiness. She clutched her stomach, hoping for some relief, but it didn’t come.
The hunger remained. The emptiness remained.
And no matter what they said, it was never enough.
Momo sat on her bed, her stomach aching in a way that was unfamiliar. The hunger gnawed at her, relentless and insistent. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, her father’s voice still echoing in her ears, cold and stern.
No food.
She pressed her hands into her stomach, but the ache only grew. It was impossible to ignore. She shifted, turning her face into the pillow, trying to drown out the emptiness inside.
It was then that she heard it.
Screams. Loud and desperate, muffled by the walls but unmistakable. Someone was in pain.
Her heart skipped a beat. She sat up, listening intently, but the screams stopped as suddenly as they had started. Momo's thoughts raced, but she didn’t dare open her door. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms.
The hunger was unbearable now, but something about those screams made the air feel thick, suffocating.
She felt trapped.
The desperation swirled, the hunger and the fear mixing together.
But nothing happened.
Then, the house became eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
Momo awoke with a start, her throat dry. Her stomach growled, a harsh reminder of her parents' instructions. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled to the door. She turned the knob. Locked.
Her breath caught in her throat. She rattled the door. Nothing.
"Mom? Dad?" she called, her voice hoarse, but it felt useless. Her parents had ignored her yesterday, barely acknowledging her existence, as if she wasn’t even there.
Nothing answered. The silence was crushing.
Her mind swirled in confusion.
Why had they locked her in? Why weren’t they speaking to her?
She could feel the hunger gnawing, but there was no escape.
No comfort.
Only emptiness.
She slumped back against the door, too weak to cry anymore.
The days blended into one another.
Momo had lost track of time.
The room was her world now—stale, quiet, and filled with nothing but the aching emptiness inside her.
No one came.
She pounded on the door, yelling for anyone to help her, but the house stayed silent.
There was no response.
No food, no comfort.
The hunger had become her constant companion.
On the fourth day, Momo turned to the only thing she could.
She stared at her hand, shaking from weakness and desperation.
Without thinking, she bit into the flesh.
The sharp pain was nothing compared to the emptiness she felt inside.
She chewed, slowly, cautiously at first, then with a ferocity she hadn’t expected.
The taste of skin, blood, and salt—her own body—was the only thing that could fill the hollow ache.
It wasn’t enough. But it was something.
The tears came, hot and fast, but she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
The hunger wouldn’t let her.
Momo’s face was pale, her eyes sunken, and the desperation inside her only grew.
The hunger felt like it was consuming her from the inside out.
She couldn’t stop herself.
Her mind kept spiraling.
Eating her hand, biting into her own flesh, it was all she could do.
Her parents had to be punishing her. That’s all it could be. They were ignoring her. They had to be.
The house was silent. No one came to check on her. Not even once.
Momo collapsed again, this time against the wall. She was lost, completely lost in herself.
That night, the screams came again. This time louder, closer.
She shuddered at the sound, but couldn't tell if it was in her mind. For the first time, hunger stopped being all she could focus on.
The screams—agonizing, terrifying—fueled her desperation.
Why wasn’t anyone coming for her?
Momo reached for her hand again, biting into it harder than before.
Blood dripped down her wrist as she chewed.
Momo's eyelids fluttered open, a dull ache in her head, and her body felt like it was made of lead. The room around her was unfamiliar. Gone was the sterile, suffocating room of her parents' house. She was lying on a soft surface, the air cool, and the faint scent of something floral lingered. She blinked several times, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
The walls were a deep shade of green, lined with various plants, and the floor was made of dark wood. The light coming from an unknown source bathed everything in a soft, warm glow. It was nothing like the sterile white room she'd been locked in for days.
She pushed herself up, her legs unsteady, her body weak from lack of food. The gnawing hunger was still there, worse than ever. It twisted in her stomach, making her nauseous.
"You're awake." A voice, calm and pleasant, interrupted her thoughts.
Momo turned, her breath catching in her throat.
A teen stood in front of her, a green-haired boy with sharp eyes and a smile that seemed almost... too perfect. His smile stretched wide, a playful glint in his eyes. He was dressed casually, his clothes simple, yet there was something strange about him—something she couldn’t quite place. He looked young, but there was an air of confidence around him that made Momo feel uneasy.
"What... what is this place?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Where am I?"
The boy tilted his head, his smile never fading. "Oh, this? This is my little world. It’s where I keep things, all the things I like. You’re lucky, you know. Most people don’t get to come."
Momo looked around, still disoriented. "I don't understand," she mumbled, struggling to sit up fully, her head spinning. "I was—"
"You were in a different place," he interrupted, leaning in slightly as if to study her. "But now you're here. You know, it's funny. You looked so lost in that world. Hungry too. Are you still hungry?"
Momo’s stomach growled involuntarily, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the hunger inside her was undeniable. It was all she could think about.
"Y-yes," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
The boy's grin widened at her response, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at her—almost predatory. He took a step back, folding his arms casually as if he had all the time in the world.
"Well, I can help with that. You don’t have to worry about the hunger anymore," he said, his voice almost sing-song. "I can give you all the food you want. Anything. And you won’t get fat. You’ll never feel guilty about eating again."
Momo blinked, trying to process his words. "What do you mean?"
The boy’s eyes sparkled as if he were amused by her confusion. "It’s simple. All you have to do is tell me your name. You tell me who you are, and I’ll give you everything you want—unlimited food. You won’t gain weight, won’t feel full, and you won’t get sick of it either. I promise."
Momo's breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, torn between the possibility of having all the food she could ever desire and the unsettling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But the hunger inside her was deafening, drowning out her thoughts. It had been days—days without food, without relief. Her hands shook as she clutched her stomach, desperate for something to quell the gnawing pain.
She didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t think straight. The offer was so simple. Just give him her name, and all of her problems would disappear.
"Who... who are you?" she asked, her voice shaky but filled with need.
The boy’s grin stretched wider, almost to the point of being unnatural. "That’s not important," he said, his tone playful, almost teasing. "What matters is that I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. No more hunger. No more shame. Just food. You want it, don’t you?"
Momo’s chest tightened. The thought of endless food, food she could devour without fear, was everything she had ever dreamed of. She didn't care about anything else. She didn't care who he was or what the cost would be. All that mattered was the promise of satisfying the hunger.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I want it. I just... I just want to eat."
The boy's smile softened, but there was still a glimmer of something dark in his eyes.
"Then tell me your name," he said, his voice a low, coaxing hum. "It’s that simple. Just your name, and I’ll give you all the food you could ever wish for. No consequences. No limits."
Momo didn't hesitate. She couldn’t. The hunger was too great, and everything else felt insignificant in comparison. She would do anything to stop the emptiness inside her, to feel full, just for once.
"Momo Yaoyorozu," she said, her voice trembling but clear. The words were out before she could second-guess herself. "My name is Momo Yaoyorozu."
The boy’s smile returned, this time colder, sharper. "Good. You made the right choice, Momo."
Before she could react, he snapped his fingers. In an instant, the air around her seemed to shift. The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the room, and suddenly, a table appeared in front of her. Piled high with plates of food—piles of pastries, fruits, cakes, and savory dishes—everything she had ever dreamed of.
Momo’s eyes widened as she stared at the spread. It was overwhelming, the sheer abundance of it. Her stomach clenched, the hunger surging like a tidal wave. She didn’t wait. She dove in, her hands shaking as she grabbed the first thing she could reach—a piece of cake, warm and sweet.
The first bite was like heaven. The sweetness melted on her tongue, and for a moment, the world around her disappeared. It was perfect.
She kept eating, grabbing more and more, each bite filling the void inside her, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She devoured the food ravenously, ignoring the way her body trembled, how her hands felt slick with sweat.
The boy stood nearby, watching her, his smile never faltering. "See? I told you. No consequences. Just satisfaction."
Momo couldn’t stop herself. She kept eating. The food was endless, a constant supply that seemed to appear with every bite she took. Sweet pastries, rich stews, fruits dripping with juice, cakes glazed with sugar. It didn’t matter what it was. It all tasted incredible, each bite better than the last. The hunger that had consumed her for days, no, for months, years even, was finally being satisfied.
She didn’t think about anything else. Not the boy watching her, not the way her hands were shaking with hunger as she tore into the food. All she cared about was the next bite, the next plate. The relief, the momentary peace that came with filling the emptiness inside her.
The plate in front of her had been cleared, but there was no shortage. Another plate, another mountain of food appeared. The urge to eat was insatiable.
She shoved another pastry into her mouth, savoring the sweet, buttery flavor. Her fingers were sticky with crumbs, but it didn’t matter. She ate faster, not even noticing how her body trembled with every movement. Her stomach was full, painfully full, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.
The boy watched her quietly, his eyes following every movement. A faint, amused smile played at the corner of his lips, but there was no sympathy in his gaze.
“Keep going,” he said, his voice a soft, melodic lilt. “Enjoy it. All of it. You wanted this, after all. No limits. No guilt.”
Momo’s mouth was full as she tried to speak, but her words came out muffled. “I… I need more… I need to—”
"Shhh," he interrupted, leaning closer. "I know. No need to speak. Just eat. You’ll never feel full again."
Momo continued eating. She couldn’t stop. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for food and stuffing it into her mouth, her mind clouded by the desire to consume, to fill the empty spaces inside her.
It was as if time had stopped. There was only the food, the hunger, and the unrelenting need to keep going. Her mind felt foggy, and her thoughts blurred. All she could focus on was the next bite, the next taste.
As she reached for another plate, something strange happened.
She paused. Her hand hovered over the next dish, fingers trembling. She felt… odd. She looked down at herself, the warm glow of the room reflecting in her peripheral vision. The clothes she had been wearing—tight, plain attire—had changed. She was dressed in an extravagant gown, rich fabric swirling with every movement. The fabric was heavy, layered in gold thread, and adorned with intricate lace and pearls. The intricate patterns seemed so out of place for someone like her. It was like she had stepped into a different time, a different life.
She looked into the nearest mirror hanging on the wall, her breath catching in her throat. The reflection staring back at her was unfamiliar. Her once youthful, plain features had transformed. Her skin looked softer, smoother. Her hair, once messy from days of neglect, was now styled with elegance. She was beautiful—no, she was more than beautiful. She was regal, like someone from another era.
It hit her all at once. She looked dignified, poised, but also… untouchable. Her body felt different, as if the weight of her transformation had reached beyond her physical appearance. Her hands, now dainty and graceful, trembled as she ran them over the fabric of her gown.
"What… What is this?" Momo gasped, staring at her reflection. She didn’t recognize herself. This wasn’t who she was anymore. This wasn’t the hungry, desperate girl from moments ago.
The boy’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and amused. "You look beautiful, don’t you think? A perfect picture of indulgence."
Momo's eyes flicked back to him. Her hands dropped from the mirror, and she stared at him in disbelief. "I… I don’t understand. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t—"
"Of course you didn’t ask for it," he said, stepping closer. "You only wanted to eat. And now look at you—more than you could ever imagine. You’re perfect now. But, that’s the thing. You wanted food, you wanted more, and I gave it to you. I gave you everything. So, I think it’s only fair you understand the full picture."
Momo's breath caught in her throat. Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she felt an overwhelming sense of dread settle in her chest. “What are you saying?”
The boy tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “You got your wish. But it comes at a price, Momo. You’ve consumed everything you’ve wanted. But you’ve also lost everything else.”
Momo’s heart skipped a beat as he continued. "In case you didn't know, your parents," he said with a casual tone, "they’re dead. Now that you’re here, it’s probably best you know. They’re gone. They were killed the very day you were locked in your room.”
Her world stopped.
The words were like a heavy weight, crushing her chest. "What? What do you mean they’re dead?" she asked, her voice shaking as she reached for him, her hand trembling. "No. You’re lying. They’re—"
"They’re gone, Momo. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a world where they’re alive anymore." His voice had an edge of finality to it, cold and emotionless. "On the other hand, the deal you made with me? That’s the only thing that matters now. And the life you had, the life you thought you could go back to? It’s finished."
The words hit her like a tidal wave, dragging her under. Her thoughts spiraled, the shock freezing her in place. She couldn’t process it. Her parents—gone? Just like that?
"Now, all you need to do is enjoy what’s in front of you," the boy said, his tone suddenly soft again, as if he were comforting her. “Eat. Enjoy. You won’t get fat, and you won’t ever stop being this beautiful, this perfect. You’re mine now. My dear ruler of gluttony, having the privilege of being picked by hand by no other than myself.”
Momo stood there, stunned, her mind reeling. She looked down at her hands, at the food still piled high in front of her, and the strange new world she found herself in. Everything felt wrong, everything felt like it was spinning out of control.
But all she could focus on was the hunger. The hunger that had driven her to this moment. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.
And with that, she picked up another plate, her fingers trembling as she brought the food to her lips.
Deep down, Momo knew that something more had been taken from her than she could ever understand.
The room felt heavier now, the air thick with the scent of food. Momo’s mind, though fogged by hunger, still tried to process the strange reality around her. She had devoured everything—the cakes, the pastries, the fruits, the savory dishes. She had eaten until there was nothing left but the remnants of a lavish, indulgent feast.
But even now, the hunger still gnawed at her. The emptiness in her stomach never ceased. It was a cruel joke, a constant reminder that nothing would ever be enough.
Her eyes scanned the table again, her breath shallow. And there they were.
Her parents’ heads.
They were placed carefully on a silver platter, their faces frozen in an expression that looked both serene and grotesque. Their features were intact, as though they were merely sleeping. Their eyes, wide open and lifeless, stared out at her.
Momo's stomach twisted, but the hunger—oh, the hunger—did not care. She needed to eat. She needed to consume more. She could no longer think of them as her parents, not now. They were just food. The hunger was all-consuming.
Her hands reached for their heads, trembling with anticipation. She didn’t think, she just acted. Her fingers closed around the cold skin of her mother’s face, her mouth salivating at the thought of more to devour.
Momo’s mind screamed at her, but the hunger drowned it out. She brought the head to her lips and bit down, tearing into the flesh with a primal intensity she had never known. Her teeth sank into her mother’s skin, the taste metallic and sour, but she didn’t care. She devoured it, tearing through bone and sinew, chewing until there was nothing left.
Her vision blurred as she swallowed, the act of eating so instinctual, so necessary. And still, the hunger didn't stop.
She moved to her father’s head, her hands shaking as she lifted it from the platter. She didn’t hesitate this time. The hunger had taken over completely, driving her to devour even that final piece of her past. The taste was bitter, rancid almost, but it was food. And that was all that mattered.
She ate until there was nothing left—no remnants of her parents, no more food on the table.
And still, her stomach twisted, begging for more.
As she finished, Momo felt a sudden sensation, a sharp pain that shot through her skull. Her vision went white, and she felt something... something wasn’t right.
She gasped and reached up, touching her own head, her fingers trembling as they felt the cold, detached skin.
Her head was no longer on her body.
Her body still moved, but her head—her mind—was detached, floating in an unnatural way, separate from her form. She could feel both, the body and the head, but neither was truly hers anymore. They were disconnected, floating in a haze, separate and apart.
Momo’s breath quickened as she realized what had happened.
She could still think, still feel, but the connection to her body was gone. She had lost her sense of self, her identity. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes wide with panic as the world around her twisted.
The boy—God, or whatever he was—watched her with a twisted smile. His eyes gleamed with amusement, as if this was the inevitable end of her consumption.
“You did it, Momo,” he said softly, stepping closer. “You wanted it. You ate it all. But you still wish for more, don't you?”
Momo’s hands shook as she grabbed at her neck, trying to reattach her head, to bring herself back together. But it was impossible. The head didn’t belong to her anymore. She could feel it, a distance, a separation. Her body was a stranger, something that moved without her. Her head floated beside it, disembodied, disconnected from reality.
The hunger still gnawed at her.
“I… I…” Her voice was hollow, faint, as if it came from far away. She didn’t know if she was speaking with her mouth or her mind. She couldn’t tell anymore. “I need to eat. I need more… more…”
Her words trailed off into a whisper, a desperate, broken plea. She felt herself sinking into madness, the hunger becoming all-consuming. She could still move, still see, but it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t whole.
Momo’s mind began to unravel.
She could feel her body moving, but she couldn’t control it. It was like being trapped in a nightmare, floating in the void. Her eyes locked on God, who was still smiling.
“Your head can’t have everything, Momo,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “But your body? Your body can devour anything. It doesn’t need your head to survive. The hunger… it’s eternal. And so are you.”
Momo’s vision blurred again, her senses fading in and out. She tried to scream, but there was no sound. Her head, detached, still floated, and her body continued to consume, moving on its own, a twisted reflection of who she once was.
The hunger had taken everything.
And in that moment, Momo was no longer sure where the body ended and the mind began. She had become something else entirely—a being of insatiable need, a shadow of the person she once was. She was no longer Momo Yaoyorozu.
She was just hunger.
God watched her disintegrate into madness, his smile never fading.