Autumn Appetite (Patreon)

It’s fall and Frank is being a good dad and enjoying the increasingly rare times he has all his sons together at once ever since they moved out. But the thought of how good a of a food baby they would make starts to take over his mind…

Hey guys, this one took some tries but I made a longer video and holy shit it turned out hot! The generator also seems to not be shy about making these a little bit spicy too 😈

If you like full gorged dads, this vid and story’s for you. Easily one of my new faves! Enjoy 😉

Autumn Appetite

The park was on fire with color. Maples blazed crimson and orange along the winding path, their leaves drifting down in slow spirals to crunch beneath four pairs of boots. Gold birches shivered in the breeze, and the late afternoon sun slanted through the branches, painting everything in honey light.

Frank walked a half-step behind his boys, hands shoved in the pockets of his canvas jacket. Underneath, his favorite red-and-black flannel was buttoned over a broad, hairy chest, a thick tuft of dark hair curling out at the collar to meet the salt-and-pepper beard that framed his weathered jaw. At fifty-two, he still had the build of a man who'd spent his life splitting wood and hauling lumber: thick arms, wide shoulders, a sturdy gut that strained comfortably against his belt.

Up ahead, his three sons were laughing and shoving each other like they had when they were kids. Twenty years old now, the triplets: Caleb, tall and lanky; Owen, with his mother's red hair; and Mason, the loud one, already arguing about where they should get dinner.

Dinner.

Frank's stomach answered before he could. A deep, rolling growl rumbled out of him, so loud and so powerful that a pair of sparrows burst from a nearby bush.

"Jesus, Dad," Mason laughed, turning around. "Was that you?"

Frank patted his belly and grinned through his beard, but something had shifted behind his eyes. He'd felt that hunger before, for years now, a hollow ache that no steak or second helping ever touched. He'd always pushed it down. But here, now, with the woods quiet and the path empty and his boys right in front of him, he knew. This was his chance.

"Hey, fellas," he said, nodding toward a thick stand of oaks off the trail. "Before we eat, come here. I wanna show you something back behind those trees. Found it last time I was out here."

The boys shrugged and followed him off the path, leaves crackling underfoot, until the trail disappeared behind a curtain of red and gold.

"Alright, what is it?" Caleb asked, looking around.

Frank turned to face them. "It's something I've been wanting to do for a long time."

Before Caleb could ask what he meant, Frank's jaw stretched impossibly wide, wider than any man's should. He caught his eldest by the shoulders and drew him in, head first. There was a muffled shout and a long, heavy GLLRK as Frank's throat bulged and worked. Caleb's sneakers kicked once in the air and then vanished past his father's lips.

Frank's belly surged outward. The flannel went taut, then tighter, buttons groaning as his gut swelled into a round, heavy dome. Thick dark hair spread across the stretching skin as it pushed out between the shirt panels.

Owen and Mason stood frozen. "Dad, what the—"

Owen went next. Frank pulled him in with steady hands, swallowing in deep, rhythmic gulps, and his belly ballooned even further. The top button shot off and pinged against an oak trunk. The next two followed. His flannel split open entirely, falling away to the sides as his huge, hairy belly bloomed out in front of him, tight as a drum and gleaming in the dappled light.

Mason, the loud one, finally turned to run. He made it three steps. Frank caught him by the jacket and hauled him back, and the last of his sons disappeared down his throat with a final, satisfied GULP.

For a moment the woods were silent. Then Frank's belly gave one last tremendous heave outward, the skin stretching drum-tight, and his belly button popped out with an audible little pomp. The whole enormous orb began to wriggle and churn, shifting and bulging as three young men squirmed inside.

Frank tipped his head back and let out a belch so deep it seemed to shake the leaves loose from the branches: "BRRROOOOOAAAAPPP."

He wiped his beard with the back of his hand and chuckled.

Walking took some work now. He waddled out of the trees with one hand braced under his gut and the other on the small of his back, the massive belly swaying with each step. He made his way to a weathered wooden bench beneath a blazing maple and lowered himself down with a long, contented groan. His belly settled out in front of him, so huge it protruded well past his knees, round and heavy and covered in thick, dark hair, the ruined flannel hanging uselessly off his shoulders.

It gurgled. Loudly. Then something kicked from inside, and a lump rolled across the surface.

Frank smiled and laid both palms on it, rubbing slow, broad circles over the taut, hairy skin.

"Easy, easy, boys," he rumbled softly, almost tenderly. "I know. I know it's a surprise." He patted the top of the dome as it shifted under his hands. "But I've been wanting to do this for a long time. Years, honestly. Every time I looked at you three, I just... felt it." Another deep gurgle answered him, and he chuckled. "Don't you worry. Your old man's gonna take good care of you while you settle in."

The belly churned. Then one spot pushed outward hard, and the vague shape of a face and a pair of hands pressed against the inside of his stretched skin. A muffled, wordless yell rang out from somewhere deep within before the shape was pulled back down into the gurgling depths with a wet glorp.

Frank only smiled wider and gave the spot a gentle pat. "Shh, shh. I know."

He leaned back against the bench, fingers kneading lazy circles into his enormous gut, watching the leaves drift down around him.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "you three spent nine months in your mother's belly. Kept her up at night kicking just like this." He gave his gut an affectionate jiggle. "Seems only fair you get some time in mine."

The belly answered with a long, low gurgle, and Frank tipped his bearded face toward the golden canopy above and let loose one more colossal belch into the crisp autumn air:

"BRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAPPPP!"

Somewhere across the park, a dog started barking. Frank just laughed, settled deeper into the bench, and kept rubbing.

Getting home had been an ordeal. Frank waddled the last few blocks in the deepening dusk, one hand braced beneath his enormous gut and his canvas jacket draped over the swell as best it could manage. A few neighbors raking leaves did double takes. He just nodded and smiled through his beard.

By the time he shouldered through his front door, the house was dark and quiet. He flicked on the lamp in the bedroom, peeled the ruined flannel off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His jeans followed, with some difficulty. Bending wasn't really an option anymore. He brushed his teeth leaning sideways over the sink, his belly resting heavy on the counter edge, gurgling the whole time.

Then he eased himself down onto the bed with a long, rumbling groan. The mattress creaked under the weight. He settled onto his back against the pillows, and his belly rose up in front of him like a great hairy hill, so big he couldn't see his feet. It shifted and rolled. A heel pressed out near his navel, then an elbow on the left side. A long, low gurgle echoed through the dark room.

Frank laid his palms on the warm, taut dome and rubbed slowly.

"Alright, boys," he murmured, his voice thick and drowsy. "Big day. Time to settle down now." Something kicked against his hand, and he chuckled. "I know, I know. Goodnight, Caleb. Goodnight, Owen. Goodnight, Mason." He gave the belly one last gentle pat. "Your dad loves you."

He reached over and clicked off the lamp.

Within minutes, his breathing deepened and slowed, and soon a heavy, rattling snore filled the bedroom, rising and falling in rhythm with the great belly. Beneath it, the gurgling carried on through the night: long churning groans, deep wet bubbling, an occasional squirm that slowly grew weaker and further apart. The moon crossed the window. Frank snored on, one hand still resting on his gut.

Morning came gray and soft through the curtains.

Frank stirred, smacked his lips and opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the quiet. His belly sat exactly as large as it had the night before, a massive, round, hairy dome rising off the mattress, but it was perfectly still. No kicks. No squirming.

He shifted his hips, and the whole thing sloshed: a deep, heavy, liquid GLOOSSHH that rolled from one side to the other.

A slow smile spread through his beard.

He wrapped both arms around the enormous orb and cradled it, rocking it gently. It sloshed again, loud and rich. Then, with a grunt, he hefted the belly upward, pulling it close until he could rest his bearded cheek against the warm, tight skin.

As he did, the surface rippled. Three vague, rounded shapes pressed outward against his stretched belly, side by side, faint but unmistakable. They held there for a moment, then were drawn back down into the depths with a long, wet SHLLUURRP.

Frank closed his eyes and nuzzled the spot where they'd been.

"Thank you, boys," he said softly, his voice warm and full. "Thank you for this. I never thought I'd get to know what it felt like, carrying you like your mother did. Feeling you move. Keeping you close." He stroked the hairy curve with slow, reverent strokes. "Best night of my life."

The belly answered with a deep, satisfied gurgle.

Frank smiled, let his head sink back into the pillow and kept on holding it.