I-no’s Insatiable Greed [commission]

Chapter 1

I-No slams her fist on the table, her other hand gripping the edge as tightly as she dared – it's a nice table after all – her chest heaving as the busty time-traveler takes one deep breath after another. She had just returned from her latest attempt at killing her decided nemesis, Ramlethal Valentine. Damned woman somehow survived this time, leaving I-No in a state of disbelief, far too stunned and, in her mind at least, a moment of just complete and utter weakness is when her enemy strikes.

As much as I-No hated to, ducking a swing of Ramlethal’s sword, a flick of her wrist sent the time-traveling witch back to her own timeline. Well, she says it’s her own, but it’s more a time and place she camps in. A time where, much to her dismay and absolute frustration, nothing has fundamentally changed. Her surroundings still a barren urban wasteland, no real sign of life anywhere, and a random dead giant still laying in the street a few blocks away.

Nothing fundamentally changed, only the deepening well of frustration and dissatisfaction, now topped with a level of intense anger and hatred that I-No has never experienced before. Why did SHE get to win this time? What made HER entitled to doing what she wants?? What made HER so fucking special?!

Normally, the sound of crunching would probably be alarming for anyone, especially the bag of fresh potato chips she opened and started to shove handfuls into her mouth. Then again, when you’re magical there’s a lot that we don’t need to question. And for someone of I-No’s nature, even if she’s not acutely aware of it herself, she doesn’t necessarily need to eat. But then again if she didn’t, she wouldn’t such amazing tits and ass.

Still, the sudden desire to eat came on pretty damn quick, and I-No completely failed to notice it. Instead opting to shove her hand back to the bag again and again for more of these greasy salty crispy potatoes to consume more. Muttering to herself about the various ways she should not have lost, going over all the times she’s successfully killed Ramlethal.

So lost in thought, really, that even as she soon dropped the empty bag that immediately vanishes, it didn't seem to register when she flipped on the stove and started cooking hamburger patties. Salt, pepper, garlic powder shakers simply popping into existence nearby, floating and ready to season the meat. The oven’s electric coils glowing as they ready to bake some fries and potato wedges. A tray of the greasy fattening sides soon appearing and floating into the oven.

“…Maybe her sword technique changed? No, because that would mean I would…”

As the burgers cook, the shakers seasoning them midway through as I-No subconsciously instructed them to with cheese later added to melt on top, another burner flares up as chicken begins cooking in another pan. The cheeseburgers float from the pan onto some buns, the fries finished their baking as they’re seasoned lightly and plated before floating over to the witch on a table by her chair. Not even an eye glance towards the food as she already reaches over and takes one bite out of the burger. Then another. Another. Fries next. A couple more bites. More fries.

“…then why was she able to deflect the magic blast? It could be…” she continues to mutter to herself.

Polishing the plate off, it seems to vanish much like the emptied bag of chips, but more potatoes and now cooked and seasoned chicken is plated and takes its place. One hand reaching down and lightly rubbing her visibly swollen and doming out stomach, swelling just a bit more with each bite of food stuffed into her belly. Fingers dancing across the taught flesh as she continues to eat and stuff herself.

Days pass by, the magical musician only seeming to sleep when she’s too tired to move and think. Each day and night, napping or simply passing out, one hand always absentmindedly rubbing her full and rounded stomach. And every day, it’d be just a little bigger than the day before. A little softer. Her arms becoming a little less defined, thighs softening, her breasts certainly taking their fair share of as they fill out her black top very nicely.

It’s impossible to deny I-No is starting to gain weight, but her stomach has been the most impressive as its capacity is pushed more and more, as I-No continues to eat more and more. Which is impressive, truly. Given the change is so sudden for her, not to mention her general lack of even needing to eat most of the time being the most obvious.

And yet, from when she goes to sleep and wakes up again, I-No’s mind is focused on one thing and everything else is background noise. Even her getting fatter. Especially her getting fatter, and constantly filling her belly with so much greasy fattening food, and lately plenty of sweets now. It’s truly no real surprise that she’s been packing on the pounds.

Well, it would be if she paid attention.

A few days pass by, the red-cladded witch stretching her chubby arms high as her mouth opens wide in a yawn, her puffy cheeks neatly squishing as she breathes in deeply before ending in an “ahh!”. Still laying down, facing the grey and always cloudy sky as one hand finds it’s way back to her softened bloated middle, softly gurgling and growling in hunger despite still digesting her last meal... what was it? 2 pans of lasagna and 3 loaves garlic bread?

I-No sits up, ignoring the tightness around her breasts as they bulge and fill the entirety of her cropped black shirt, the buttons straining to hold together even as fatty tit flesh bulges between them. Her thighs squish together as they fight for room and straight her shorts beyond their normally tight limits, a minor miracle they haven’t torn yet. A pile of cinnamon muffins shimmer into existence next to the fatter witch, one immediately picked up and a large bite taken as few crumbs fall onto her breasts and down to her swollen middle. The fattened and hungry belly sitting comfortably on her lap, growling for more as her free hand continues to rub and knead the soft balls of indulgence, visibly larger than her breasts now.

The first muffin is finished and another is already in hand, as the stove’s familiar clicks are heard, followed shortly after by sizzling and aroma of bacon and sausages in 1 pan, pancakes in another. Clean plates already floating nearby, with a tub of butter and a hefty bottle of syrup to smother onto the pancakes as they come off the pan. The fatter musician standing and shuffling her way over to a large bulletin board, dotted with various images and crude drawings of fight plans, I-No and Ramlethal fighting, and some of just Ramlethal.

“…so, if I wanted to take revenge, there could be a surprise attack. What if she’s already blocking the music blast…” she’s already mumbling to herself as she polishes off her muffin and picks up another, the plate of muffins simply following her around.

A marker appears in hand, pulling her hand away from her stomach as she makes edits to some random paper or another, on top of many others before. Once it’s clear it’s become illegible, another paper appears pinned to the board as the marker moves to start afresh. Pancakes and cooked breakfast meats plate themselves, butter and syrup spreading on the fried dough as they float over and feed themselves to I-No’s readily open mouth as she compliments them with more muffin. One plate is cleared, then another, her fat middle already swelling again with food as more is stuffed into it. No change in focus or comments still, her fat jiggling and swaying with each step and movement, including the chewing and swallowing of more and more of the fattening sweet or greasy breakfast food filling her.

So the rest of the morning went, the food only changing to lunch like foods when it reached the afternoon. Her belly swelling slowly with food thanks to her increased stomach capacity allowing her to continue to continuously eat. Having swollen to such a size as comparable to a beachball now, her movement has been slowed down by her much heavier stomach. The burden forcing the still-eating witch to waddle as she moves from the bulletin board to a shelf with books on tactical warfare to peruse.

“…I mean, if there were more than just me a pincher move might be doable, but…”

Setting the current book in hand back and bending down, one hand holding onto the side of her large belly as though for support and…



…the seat of her short shorts rip. And the sides. And the f—okay, you know what? They’ve burst entirely, the tattered shreds falling to the floor as I-No jumps from the sudden release of tightness from her thighs and butt. Both jiggly a fair amount thanks to the added layer of fat, and now just barely covered by her skimpy panties, straining to hold together with and leaving very little to the imagination. The belt not fairing much better.

“Oh, unholy gods, that made me jump! I know I’m bloated but… OH, what about a set of traps…” the time-traveler, essentially half-naked now, shrugs the fairly dramatic event and goes back to her planning and muttering as sandwich making appear nearby and start to assemble themselves. Ham, roast beef, turkey, bologna, each one topped with one variety of cheese or another, plated with a side of cheese-smothered tater tots or fries.

Considering how I-No has never truly needed to eat, it should truly be no surprise to see this dramatic change in her weight, especially when paired with the constant food consumption. When one is originally created to be almost godlike, only for The Original to rip it away, naturally many vestiges of this power lingered. Many obvious, accounting for her abilities, and others less so. Such as little or no need to eat, except to keep a rockin’ bod maybe. So when such a unique person like I-No so rarely eats, it’s little wonder that her metabolism is almost non-existent, save for storing anything it deems as excess as pure fat.

And with how she’s been constantly stuffing herself, one hand always rubbing or resting on her swollen belly of food…

A week passes by. Each day the witch continuing to somehow still be subconsciously stuffing herself as her plans, such as they should be, always seem to be scrapped for another. Each one she makes only coming to a halt when she noticed one fatal flaw or another, perceived or legitimate, forcing herself to start back at square one. Could it be that she’s mildly distracting herself with food, given that she’s been spending every waking moment either summoning pre-packaged cookies / popcorn / chips / etc., or foods to be cooked seemingly all of their own will? Whether or not the sheer amount of food finding itself created from thin air, cooked or otherwise, is proving to be any sort of detriment is impossible to say.

Whether or not the effects they’re having on her figure, however, is another matter entirely. Especially since, whether by subconscious choice or matter or preference, everything that she’s been eating and binging on is so damn fattening.

A couple weeks pass, and no real progress has been made.

“Yaaawwwwn!” I-No raises her arms above her head as she does every morning when she wakes up, usually in some chair or couch if she didn’t make it back to bed the evening before. Typically stuffed to the brim with so much fattening food, one could be forgiven for thinking she had raided an all-you-can-eat buffet.

The bed creaks as she begins to shift her body. One thick arm moves out as thick fingers grip the edge of the bed, a pillowy leg moving out in the same direction. Rocking back and forth once, then twice sees the mass of fat shift and moves with momentum. Her large belly sitting heavy in her lap and oozing between her legs as they swing off the side of the bed, her melon sized tits rest on somewhere between the top of her stomach and her side rolls.

One hand, surely compelled by habit at this point, immediately grips and squeezes her generously large belly. Her palm gliding across the soft squishy surface making her large gut as it vibrates against her skin with low and audible growls of hunger. The sounds of sizzling and boiling water fade in within mere seconds as the now-645 lbs I-No lifts herself and begins to shuffle forward, her outfit completely absent from her obese form. A sturdy and wide armchair finds her fattened rear end, the bulletin board of now dozens of scratched out pieces of paper and crude maps wheeling itself over as a massively pile of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup floats over at the same time. Another couple of plates piled high with bacon, sausage links, eggs of various styles, and a couple pieces of toast of course) join them as various forks and knives begin to cut off pieces of food to feed to the naked witch.

Of course, given how greasy and messy much of the food is, napkins are magically provided to keep her clean… or clean up the bits of food that inevitably fall into her cleavage and/or on her large lap-filling belly. As she begins writing and making another crude mapping strategy, normally this would be when she’d be talking about it aloud, to better process her thoughts. However, lately, I-No’s eating habits have ramped up to the point where her mouth is always full of food. Chewing, swallowing, taking more in, and repeat. Not that it stopped her from trying anyway.

“Maybe… …but then… ….”

Within minutes, her gut is already rounding out as it’s stuffed with the endless stream of greasy and rich breakfast foods. Soon after, roughly an hour or so, it begins to expand, as it usually does. Still rubbing with one hand as it inches further out on her lap, its weight forcing her legs apart to sag only slightly between. Napkins, more than previously seen, join the seemingly chaotic fray of feederism to help clean any unavoidable spills or other food debris around her lips.. and chins.. and tits… really, anywhere that it happened to fall. It’s not that I-No is a messy eater, or at least certainly not on purpose.

A couple hours passing by, the obese time traveler has to rock a few times to generate enough momentum to lift both her visibly fatter frame and huge stuffed gut to her feet. If there was a scale capable of weighing her while simultaneously adjusting for the constant shifting weight of her ever-stuffed belly, the formerly lithe witch can be confirmed as having surpassed 700 lbs already. Her movements have slowed, it’s becoming hard to get up with each passing day… or, observedly more recently, passing hour.

A fact easily confirmed as her belly continues to bloat and expand bigger and fuller with every mouthful continuously being stuffed into it, I-No still subconsciously stuffing herself relentlessly with more and more fattening foods. The breakfast buffet changing to a lunch menu of burgers, fries, fried chicken in various styles and sauces. Even chicken nuggets find themselves being manifested and deep-fried before being served with various dipping sauces. Napkins by the handful diligently continuing to clean up any unintentional yet still unavoidable spills caused by nothing more than the sheer volume of food being stuffed past her thickening lips to be chewed and swallowed.

And yet, she still does not seem to notice her incredible weight gain. Only passing the time reading war strategy books, some fiction some not, and making plans only to scratch them off as dinner comes and goes. The meals changing to steaks and.. okay, still burgers and fries, all joined once more with a slew of pasta dishes smothered in butter, thick sauces, or both. Her 850 lbs of rolls and flab jiggling or shaking constantly as she manages to drag her belly from one spot to another. The massive gut having both swollen and fattened to rest on the ground even while standing, and continues to be stuffed with still more food to pack pounds with.

Mere hours later saw I-No’s body glowing, the energy swirling around her radiating from her hands as it lifts her 950 lbs of flab that’s piled atop her now immobile body. He pillowy arms are pushed out to an angle against her side rolls, her breasts still maintaining their roundness as they rest to the sides her massive belly. As she brings her over-fattened form to rest on the bed, the metallic frame creaks in protest and her belly oozes on top and in between her thick heavy legs.

“Oh wow, I got fat.”

This is it, this is finally the moment the magic-wielding musician acknowledges what’s happened to her body. Capable of traveling through time again and again in an effort to save humanity, powerful enough to face foes of near-immeasurable strength, skill, or cunning. Powerful enough, or possibly holding access to a near-limitless, if there was a limit to be found, to create scores of foods to cram into her mouth at all times. Something her subconscious seemed to be controlling mere moments after allowing her frustration and feeling of helplessness against Ramlethal wash over her. Eating becoming a previously unpracticed coping method, and one that’s swung in to an overwhelming degree.

Overwhelming enough to make I-No immobile.

Running her hands over her massively fattened and rounded belly, stuffed with an impossible amount of delicious yet highly fattening food, I-No fell entirely silent and otherwise still. Even her magically cooked food has stopped feeding itself to her, her eyes going wide as she slowly takes in every inch of herself that she can. Unable to reach too far, her fingers trace and lightly press into what she can reach of her gut, moving back to the rolls on her much wider sides and up to her watermelon sized tits.

“W-when did this happen?” she wonders aloud, “How did—" only to cut herself off as the still floating food catches her nose first by the aroma. Then her attention fully when she looks up. “Did… wow that smells good.”

I-No stomach grumbles loudly, making her fat quake slightly from the noise alone. She rubs her prodigious stomach instinctively, her gaze unbroken from the large amount of greasy fattening food and licking her lips before stopping herself as a look of confusion crosses her round gluttoned face.

“Did I truly eat so much food that even now I still want to eat?” her fingers continue tracing what she can reach of her massive belly. “I look and feel so full, like a truly stuffed turkey. I can’t even – “ and she wiggles in place, plainly clear she wouldn’t even move an inch without some assistance. “ – move. And yet…”

The immobile guitarist’s stomach growls again, louder and more intense this time. It’s almost painful, making her wince slightly her fat jiggles again. “And yet, I’m so goddamn hungry. Maybe this is the answer. Yes, yes, it’s coming clear to me now!”

Her eyes glow a bright purple, the still-hot fattening meals floating nearby begin resume feeding themselves to her again. A purple glow radiates nearby, followed by another, and another. Stoves and ovens manifested nearby, each one immediately starting to cook their own dishes. Joining the creamy or tomato smothered pasta dishes, burgers and fries came in fried chicken, buttery and rich mashed potatoes, biscuits and more. As they baked, cooked, stewed, I-No has started eating even more ravenously than she’s done before, her stomach slowly swelling with more fattening food to digest. Her fat rolls slowly beginning to grow outwards as though she’s willing herself to digest faster, making more room to be stuffed with.

It feels good to be fat. To be so soft yet heavy, to indulge as much as she wants, and see the effects on her body of getting even bigger, even fatter. In fact, this could even be used to get what she wants:

“I WILL GET SO FAT THEY WILL END THE WAR!!” she cries out, mouth full, before returning to her newfound gluttony.