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Little weight gain i guess🐷

Someone got fat i think😈

sides 

From a meaningless virtual life to the preppy boy I am now

Elliot's story

To convince you to come to the Preppy Academy, here's Elliot's personal testimonial. His life has changed radically thanks to our school's methods. The following are his words: 

Hello, my name is Elliot, I'm 20. I'm a student at the Preppy Academy. I'd like to thank M.Gilliard, our principal, who has asked me to write an account of my time here. 

Two years ago, I was still living with my father. I often dressed in sportswear; I loved Adidas clothes, so comfortable and easy to put on. Did I do any sport? No, not at all, but my mates dressed the same, so I followed suit. When I wasn't at school, I used to play video games all the time. I wore my clothes for days on end because I was too lazy to change. My bedroom was a real dump, with everything strewn all over the place. My diet consisted of eating chips and drinking sodas. 

My father was fed up with my bad behavior. He works in business, economics, something like that. My mother left us when I was a kid, and since then it's just been me and him. He'd tell me to “tidy my room”, “get dressed properly”. But I didn't give a damn, soon, I thought, I'll be able to leave soon, and I thought I'd be able to live with a friend in a flat-share for a bit of fun. 

There was a week when I made a decision that I had regretted at the time but that now makes me what I am. That week, it was at the beginning of my school year and I was playing a game that was too epic and I wanted to do it too much, so I made my dad think I was going to high school while I was pretending. Then, when he left for work, I'd come back and play on my P.S. console. But my stupidity caught up with me, and my father was contacted by the school and told of my repeated absences. It was a Thursday lunchtime, I remember, and he came home to find me quietly in bed. He came into my dirty room and said: 

" Elliot, that's enough! You're not going to school anymore, you're dressing like crap. Look at you, you've got holes in your clothes. You haven't washed or combed your hair in days. Things are going to change for you. A colleague at work told me about a boarding school that would be perfect for you. "

I was on my phone when he said this so I half-listened, as usual. He was clearly desperate about my behavior and had every reason to be. Now I understand. At the end of the afternoon, my father called me and reminded me that he had to take me to the dentist for an annual check-up. I'd completely forgotten, it wasn't something I was interested in remembering. I stayed in the same clothes and he took me to the dentist. I really didn't remember the appointment. Once there, my father accompanied me inside. A waiting room with other parents and their teenagers. There were guys from high school, who were also dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirts and sneakers. I wasn't the only one who dressed like that, which is why it seemed normal to do so. When it was my turn, the dentist called me in. I sat down in his dentist's chair. He asked me to lie down so he could check the inside of my mouth. He put some products in my mouth to relax it. And these products were starting to put me to sleep; he'd put in more than usual. 

I had fallen asleep on his armchair, I didn't know for how long. When I woke up, my hands were tied tightly to the chair. I tried to speak, but my mouth was still anesthetized. My father was talking to the dentist, and they were both looking at me. My father had collected my things, my bag and my phone. Looking around, I soon realized that I wasn't really at the dentist. The man posing as one approached me and said: 

"Elliot, your father, has informed us of your behavior at home and has decided to leave you with us for a while. Do you agree? "

I couldn't answer as my mouth was still anesthetized. 

" Since you're not answering my question, I imagine you're completely in agreement. If you don't say anything within a minute, we'll assume you agree."

I was trying to speak to refuse and scream for help, but only discreet moans came out. 

" Then we do have your agreement. "

My eyes began to tire again and I finally dozed off again.

I don't know what treatment he gave me, but it was like a dissociation. I saw myself outside my body like a ghost looking at my body. My father left with my things. The staff laid me properly on the bed and undressed me. I was completely naked at one point. They put a red ball in my mouth and covered my mouth with a gag that held with a tight strap behind it. I was as if unable to act, in the hands of my kidnappers. They dressed me in a white short-sleeved polo shirt, buttoned all the way up, tucked into khaki shorts with a brown belt, white knee-high socks and black loafers. They then cut my hair and styled it, neatly styled to the side and held with wax. I began to regain consciousness little by little, but I felt as if I were paralyzed in my own body, between the products that were still taking effect and the bonds that prevented me from fleeing. 

"Elliot, you're back with us. We've prepared you in a more respectable outfit than the garbage you used to wear. This preppy outfit suits you much better. Your hair looks much better like this. You probably have a lot of questions, but you're in good hands. I'm Doctor Greenwood, I'm here when sometimes you need a little push to get you into the Academy. I'll leave you here tonight and you'll make your official entrance tomorrow. "

I was stuck on this bed for several hours, and above me they'd set up a screen with a series of images and sounds that I had no choice but to watch. And no matter how tempted I was to close my eyes, a deep voice kept reading every word on the moving image. Eventually, I fell asleep to the rhythm of the video, which hypnotized me as it went along. 

“I want to be a preppy boy. Good preppy boys must obey, serve, submit, behave. Good boys comply. I want to be a good preppy boy” again and again and again...

This mantra was stuck in my head like music that never wants to come out. I still felt resistance, an urge to rebel and run away, but I was blocked and strangely began to feel pleasure at the idea of being a good preppy boy. 

When I woke up, four men in their thirties, all dressed in pastel shirts tucked into their pants, with bowties and loafers, took me by force. They took me by the arms and forced me to follow them. They put me in a van and tied me up. My gag was still in my mouth and I couldn't scream. I was at their mercy, with no power or control over the situation. I was their object. 

I was taken to a large, ivy-league type establishment, at the top of the main entrance is written “Preppy Academy”. I was led inside and up the stairs. I arrive in a very elegant office, with wood paneling and bookcases on every wall. The 4 men undress me.

I find myself in a preppy outfit: a white and blue striped OCBD shirt, pastel yellow shorts, red and blue suspenders, a dark blue and red striped tie tied around my neck, long white knee-high socks and dark loafers. Nothing to do with my outfits at home. I've been completely transformed into a preppy boy. I'm left with my hands tied and my mouth gagged in this office. I don't know what to do, I'm a slave to this establishment. My outfit isn't as comfortable as the one at home, I can feel the fabric of my shirt on my torso compressing me, the suspenders holding my shorts are like two ropes binding my outfit to my body, the pulled-up socks are so humiliating, I feel like a boy. But as I think I'm disgusted by my outfit, I realize that it actually turns me on. I like to think I have to be dressed like this to feel good. A few minutes later, a man in his fifties walks in. He's dressed in a nice three-piece suit, with a red tie. He looks at me deeply: 

"Hello Elliot! Welcome to the Preppy Academy. Your father told me you weren't behaving properly at home. He contacted us and paid for your enrollment. Whether you like it or not, you're staying here. You'll wake up here and sleep here. Your education needs to be reviewed. You must learn to be a good preppy boy for your superiors. I am M.Gilliard, the principal of this prestigious establishment. I am the Master of all the students here. You owe me obedience, submission, service and respect. "

These words enchanted me, and even though I wanted to leave, I could only nod in agreement. 

"To complete your admission among us, I must collect something. "

The 4 young men from earlier return and make me sit down on the chair, holding me tight. Mr. Gilliard unzips my pants and pulls out my penis. I start moaning, not agreeing with what's happening. Mr.Gilliard puts a sort of cage on my penis, forcing it to stay very small and any erection would hurt. 

" It's called a chastity cage. I'm the only one who keeps the keys. Every good boy here is caged. Your personal pleasure doesn't matter; you're here to obey and learn to serve. Your only satisfaction at the end of the day is to please men superior to you. "

“I want to be a preppy boy. Good preppy boys must obey, serve, submit, behave. Good boys comply. I want to be a good preppy boy”. This phrase made more and more sense. I was introduced to the establishment, the rules to follow and taken to a room I had to share, with a wardrobe full of preppy clothes, nothing I'd had before. 

I've been here for two years now and I don't want to leave. I like to serve my Master when he asks for it. I like being a good preppy boy. Obedient and helpful. I don't miss my old life anymore. I encourage all boys and men to come to the Preppy Academy. You'll love it! 

🪑🍼A Secure Seat🍼🪑 

“Paw at those locks all you want brat, but I ensured that hood is nice and secure with each lock having a separate key... so even if by some miracle you managed to get your mitts off, the keys have been hidden all over the house, so relax and accept it! You’ve only got yourself to blame for this after the tantrum you threw during your last feeding, and this time I’ve made sure everything is secure.” 

“Speaking of “Secure”, I’ve also taken the liberty of adding a few extra accessories to your highchair for today's and all your future feedings! Now stay still and try not to move around too much while I get this tray off... we wouldn’t want baby falling down and going boom-boom now do we? Now waddle on over and have a seat, there’s three of these “Special” baba’s all waiting to fill that widdle tummy and diapers of yours!”

💥

Ich hoffe der vordere Junge platzt bald und dient den anderen Jungs als Warnung nicht mehr so gefräßig zu sein.

I hope the front boy bursts soon and serves as a warning to the other boys to stop being so voracious.

Leveling up while he worships my feet, game on.😜

Check it out on OF & JFF 👇

Good boys eat 2 dinners to keep their bellies fat 🐽

Once he put on the cap, he started to fill out his tank top and shorts as he transformed from the runt Mexican college dropout to a bonafide Mexican daddy ready to run his gym. He's done this for years but it's never get boring to witness the way his muscle swole, his face aged handsomely as his jaw squared and his look refined and his package enlarged inside his once loose jockstrap. Now he's ready for the day to brief his oblivious staffers for the daily operation and welcomed his friends and patrons

A Journey into Your Future

One day, you decide to try out the whole feedism thing. You are young, in your early 20s, and your metabolism is fast. The perceived "risk" feels very low; you wonder if you even manage to gain 5 pounds. After 3 months of experimenting with eating more caloric food, you almost give up - the effects are hardly noticeable. But that's when a curious thing happens.

"Don't get discouraged," a strange voice says to you. You spin around, only to see a genie-like creature sitting in your chair. Their skin has a blue hue to it, and even as they sit, they seem partly transparent.

"Who are you?" you ask.

They smile. "An admirer and an encourager. That's all you need to know."

"But how-" you start, but don't manage to finish the sentence before the stranger snaps their fingers and the reality changes before you.

You are somehow still in your room, but you are watching it from above. On your bed, you see... yourself. Except, your belly is softer and is starting to sit plumply in your lap. The other you is sitting on the bed and watching something on your laptop, while mindlessly snacking from an XL package of chips.

"This is a year from now," the strange genie whispers to your ear. "You see, the problem with your little feedist experiment is that while you started eating more, you still also moved a lot. But 3 months from now, you are going to break your leg. You will become completely sedentary for a couple of months, and you will continue to eat. And when your leg is okay again... well, there will be a little more to you. You will have broken your fast metabolism."

"I look like I'm at least 20 pounds heavier," you say, feeling yourself blush. This is all you dreamed of: to be chubby, maybe a little fat. This excites you.

"25 pounds, to be exact," the genie says and smiles slightly dangerously. The words about broken metabolism echo in your head. Once you entered this path, can you ever go back...?

The genie snaps their fingers again.

***

You are on the back porch of your house. The alternative you is splayed in a chair, sipping on some smoothie... or is it a weight gain shake? In shock, you take in your new physique: your belly, spilling in your lap and entirely covering your crotch. Fat thighs smashed together. Love handles digging into the armrests of your chair, making you wonder if you're getting stuck. You peer at your own face, only to see a permanent double chin hugging you. Chubby cheeks made even larger as you sip your drink.

"This is three years from now," the genie says. "You just entered obesity."

You feel panic course through you. You will become obese at 25. Is this a good idea? Is there any way to go back? At the same time as you're thinking this, the other part of you doesn't want to stop. Heavy, heady thrill courses through your body. In three years, you will be at least 70 pounds heavier. All rolls. A fatty.

You barely suppress a moan.

***

The next scene makes your head spin. You are in your room again, on your bed, only, your bed is now king-sized. Propelled on a mountain of pillows, you are watching something on your laptop again, except this time, it balances precariously on the top of your gelatinous belly which spills over and in between your trunk thighs. You are snacking again, and your upper arm rolls hang and quiver as you bring full Oreos to your mouth and down them in one go. Your neck has disappeared under a fat roll. Your lips form a permanent pucker, squeezed by your cheeks. Your facial features have changed completely due to all the fat. You look like a different person.

"Five years from now," the genie whispers. "150 pounds heavier."

***

You don't even have the time to process what you've just seen before you are transported again. Below you, on the bed, spills... you. You are in a half-sitting position, but you're quite sure it would be rather difficult for you to even sit on your own. Each of your limbs sports rolls so thick that they look like small bellies on their own. And your proper belly... well, it almost covers your knees. Your triple chin quivers as you slowly swallow, your plump lips closed around a funnel hose. You are watching something on a TV that hangs on the opposite wall - and no wonder. Your fingers are now so plump that using a laptop must be quite impossible.

"Congratulations," the genie whispers into your ear. "You are 30 now. Eight years from now, and 300 pounds heavier."

You gulp, but have no time to respond before you see the door to your future room open and an unknown person enter. You look at them in disbelief - their facial features are that of the genie, except the blueish hue and the semi-transparency are gone. All in all, they look like a regular human being. They are carrying a tray filled to the brim with burgers.

"I brought you your breakfast," they say, and the future you makes some effort to smile through the funnel hose.

"Who are you?" you whisper to the genie.

They smile wide. "Your feeder, of course. I'm so glad I accessed the magic that allowed me to reach you before I actually met you. And right at the moment when you almost gave up on gaining!"

Your head spins. How are these time paradoxes even possible? What's going to happen now...?

A snap of the fingers.

***

You are in your room, and there is no one beside you. You had a strange dream. Something about rolls and heaviness and being stuck in the bed. You feel a little aroused, and you blush.

You eye a packet of cookies you brought in your last attempt to gain weight before you decided that it wasn't working out.

Come on. Eat them all. There's no harm.

Was that your own voice...? You can't say.

Eat them, and skip the gym today.

Almost on autopilot, you reach for the packet.

Oh well, what's the worst that can happen? You probably won't gain more than 5 pounds, anyway.

This weekend, Pfatter University hosted our Fall Art Topics Showcase, featuring the work of our talented student artists. Here’s some selections from Jeremy P., a Junior, who chronicled four students’ relationships with junk food throughout the course of their studies at Pfatter U, entitled: “A Well-Rounded Diet.” Enjoy!

Submission: 4 years ago this skinny Arab opened a store. Since then it appears he has also stored some fat and mainly on his hips.

⏰ Tick-Tock ⏰ 

As a meticulous sitter, I know how much Pissy-Pants here enjoys spending time on his mind numbing TikTok, rubbing away at the plastic shell of his special “Underpants”, desperate to itch his tiny caged noodle.  Being three months since his last sticky mess, it was no surprise when his eyes began to widen and a grin slowly formed around his pacified yap when I announced that it was the name of today's gamble. Fueling his excitement with the added promise of playing with Mister Buzzy, the poor Cuck was leaping at the chance...even before I could list my stipulations.  

Sadly, his growing expression of joy and excitement for an anticipated event began to fade as his clothes were stripped while his thick diapers and cage remained in place and the waddle harness secured. While encasing his hands in a pair of thick leather mitts, I explained he would be allotted a full sixty seconds of tick tock's from Mister Clock to play with his Buzzy to achieve a sticky mess. He attempted a muffled protest behind the large pacifier secured in his mouth when I stated his hands were to remain at his sides the entire time, but as I pulled the clock forward the look of hope and anticipation rekindled.  

Just before his time commenced, I placed a set of headphones upon his head and off he went! Keeping the clock in his line of site as an added distraction, he was completely unaware that the moans of other diaper Cuck's emanating into his ears was simultaneously masking the subliminal message rendering him completely impotent during his brief Tick-Tock time. I thought, smiling to myself as the clock neared its last remaining seconds... this may become our new weekly game!

Belly is almost hanging to bed 😳😳