"That's it my fat baby, keep eating, keep getting fatter for your sugar mama." I was sitting naked as a morbidly obese jaybird on Monica's king-sized bed propped up by what seemed like a dozen pillows and surrounded by an incredible ... and huge ... selection of bakery treats. They were arranged on the shelf formed by my belly, on the portion of my thighs not already covered by said belly, and all around me on the bed. What didn't fit on or around me sat atop an industrial stainless steel food cart parked beside the bed. There must have been ten dozen in all, eclairs (my favorite), bearclaws, cinnamon buns, mini coffee cakes, donuts, you name it. And they were all for me, fat greedy piggy me. Monica is my ... wait a minute, what exactly is Monica to me? Is she my girlfriend? Or is she just a devious feedress who is fattening me up to previously unimagineable weights, who will dump me when I reach her goal for me ... or when she finds another guy willing to get even fatter than me? Will we eventually marry or will I just continue to be her kept piggy? I honestly don't know, but no matter how much I might ponder it, I can't resist her charms and her fantasies (and mine?) of getting fatter and fatter still. She is a couple of years older than me. I've known her since my freshman year in college, five years ago, when I was an 18-year old fraternity pledge in the Fiji House and she was dating a senior who was my fraternity big brother. His name was Tim and the word was that before they started dating a couple of years prior that he was a normal size guy, but by the time I arrived on campus he was something like 400 pounds! I was a big guy myself, weighing right at 250 pounds when I arrived on campus, and I was drawn to the Fiji's during rush because there were ten or twelve fat guys amongst the 70 or so brothers. In fact, they were known to the girls on campus as "the fatty frat," that plus the "New Jersey frat" since it seemed like half the fraternity was from the Garden State. But I digress ... Monica and Tim stayed together until about a year after he graduated, then they suddenly broke up. By that time I guessed he was around a quarter ton, which even for a fat guy like me was unthinkable for someone who was only 23 years old, I just couldn't imagine my big brother letting himself go like that, even for someone as hot (and as rich) as Monica (her daddy was a hedge fund billionaire). Speaking of Monica, almost immediately, she took up with another frat brother, Mikey as we called him. Mikey was a big dude too, maybe 280, with a huge beer belly. But seemingly within a couple of months with Monica, he ballooned to over 300 and just kept going .... and going. By the time I started my senior year, poor Mikey must have been pushing 450, but suddenly and without notice Mikey and Monica broke up after Thanksgiving break. But fortunately, she had already fattened him up bigger than me, so at least I wouldn't have to play Santa at the fraternity Christmas party! And I'd always be the second fattest guy in the frat as long as he was around (solace indeed). I didn't think much about the big break-up until I happened to run into Monica right before exams as we were both doing some Christmas shopping. I was cutting through Nieman-Marcus on the way to another store (well, actually on the way to the food court) when I literally ran into Monica. She was browsing and not paying attention and ran right into me, bouncing off my big protruding belly! I managed to catch her before she fell backwards and we both laughed. "Why Liam," she said, "you're such a gentleman and I'm such a clutz, not watching where I was going." "That's OK," I said, "I'm just glad you weren't hurt." Monica turned on her 50,000 watt smile and went on a charm offensive, saying "well you're just my sexy fat hero, saving me from certain disaster with your big strong arms." Then she patted me on the belly and added "and your big sexy belly." Then she took a closer look at me and said in her sophisticated and sexy Boston accent, "I do say Liam, you know I'm a connoisseur of big bellies and you have a very fine one there, I guess it just took me bumping into it to realize just how fine it is." I think I must have blushed fifty shades of red when she said that and I was instantly aroused downstairs. I'd only been with four or five girls during my three and a half years of college and here was this incredible beauty commending me on my ponderous belly! She could tell I was hot and bothered and said "it's dinner time and a big guy like you must be starving, let's go to The American Grille and fill you up." I nodded eagerly unable to mask my enthusiasm for her ... and the meal to come. Over dinner, Monica commented how much I had "blossomed" since my freshman year. "You were kind of skinny back then as I recall," she said and smiling like a Cheshire Cat when I responded, "skinny?, I weighed 250 pounds." "But look how far you've come Liam ..." She was right, I added my "freshman 50," then my "sophomore 75," before finally adjusting to college food and drink and keeping my weight pretty constant at around 375 since. As I recounted my college weightgain story over a massive burger and shoestring fries, Monica was constantly reaching under the table and massaging my belly rolls ... and reaching between my legs! After finishing my dessert, and her's, she picked up the check and invited me back to her place and thus began my second weightgain odyssey. It's now fourteen months later, five days from Valentine's Day, and I'm on the cusp of reaching the quarter ton mark. And Monica is relentless in her encouragement of me to reach that long-awaited mark before February 14th. "Eat up my sweet Fatty, I want you to be my biggest fattest butterball of a Valentine ever ... and you know I have had quite a few fat Valentines in my time. Come to think of it, they were friends of yours weren't they?," she teased. "I helped them all unleash their fantasies of becoming very fat men," she said with an evil grin. "But each of them disappointed me, deciding that they didn't want to get any fatter, forcing me to leave them." "But not you, my sweet. You have no self-control, I could tell it when you packed on fifty pounds your freshman year, yes I was watching you very carefully back then, making my long-term plans for you. Then when you packed on another 75 your sophomore year, I knew you were the fat man of my dreams, but I knew I needed to bide my time until Tim and Mikey left the scene. I knew they didn't have what it took long-term, that they would eventually reach their limits and that I would move on from them. But YOU, you have no limits, you just keep eating and eating and gaining and gaining and making me such a happy woman!" She then leaned over and gave me a long kiss while tweaking one of my nipples, then picked up an eclair and squirted a bit of custard on each nipple before stuffing the rest in my waiting mouth. She then proceeded to lick the custard off of me then biting me hard enough on the nipples to leave teeth marks. I was perfectly erect from that, but not that she could tell under all the fat she had helped me to add to my belly. But she knew and proceeded to feed me the rest of the delicacies that were resting on my belly shelf, so that she could peel it back to reveal the prize underneath. As I continued to shovel pastries into my mouth, she reached underneath my overhang and vigorously massaged my rigid shaft, stopping whenever I slowed my chewing and speeding up again when I put another pastrie to my lips and took a big bite. As she started taunting me with names like "Fat Boy" and "Lardo," I came hard in her expert hands and collapsed back upon the pillows behind my back, only to have her command me, "no time to rest, keep eating Fatty, there is SO much more for you to eat!" Then she turned all lovey dovey again and started rubbing her nose and cheeks against the long beard and sideburns I had grown and kissing me passionately on the lips while massaging my belly and moobs. "I just love you with facial hair by sexy polar bear ... I know you grew it out to try to mask your fat cheeks and that sexy double chin of yours, but it didn't work baby ... your face is just too fat to hide with some whiskers ... but they make you even sexier ... they make you look more mature, like my big fat daddy. Can I start calling you Daddy, my sweet Fatty?" As I'm just putty in her hands, I moan at her touch and with each new pastry she pops into my mouth. And she continues, "eat up Daddy, you only have about twenty pounds to go to become my biggest fattest Valentine ever. Two Ton Timmy, your big brother, won't be any more. He only made it to 502, but you can go so much further. You're at 484, so twenty more pounds in five days will get you there. You can do it, I know you can. Make Two Ton your little brother, then you'll be the fattest Fiji ever, and THEN we can talk about getting married ..." "Fill me up," I said, "and make me the happiest man on Earth." "More like the fattest man on Earth," Monica laughed, "by the time I get through with you Liam."