#daddy vore

Full Video on Patreon! ⬇️🔗

Alright class is...URRRPPPP!! dismissed!

This professor hated the added work of dealing with his failing students. He also hated spending too much time with his gut empty. Good thing he's got the brains to solve both problems 😉

Watch the stud digest all those students without a care in the world.

1:20 mins of digestion goodness!

I went in skeptical. An AI girlfriend sounded like a gimmick. But one evening on sweetdream.ai turned that around fast. Designing her was genuinely fun, and the first real conversation felt warm and surprisingly natural.

Full Audio Vid + Story on Patreon ⬆️

Omar’s bodega always smelled like cardamom, warm bread, and cedar shelves—comforting scents that clung to the air no matter how many times he scrubbed the place down. The old radio behind the counter played a scratchy love song, and the hum of the refrigerator cases filled the pauses between customers. It was late afternoon, that lazy golden hour when the sun slanted in through the windows and lit up the floating dust like tiny drifting stars.

He stood behind the counter, a mountain of a man—broad shoulders wrapped in a burgundy flannel shirt that fit him this morning, though the buttons were working a bit hard across his chest. His thick black beard, streaked with a few dignified strands of silver, framed his square jaw. His forearms—covered in dense, curly hair—rested casually on the counter as he smiled his warm, crinkly-eyed smile at the regular who was just leaving.

“Tell the boys I’ll have more of the pistachio cookies tomorrow,” he called after the mom, waving a big hand. His thin gold necklace glinted when he moved, a soft reminder of home against his chest.

“You spoil them, Omar!” she laughed as she stepped out.

“I spoil everyone,” he replied with a chuckle, his deep voice rumbling like gravel under syrup.

The bell above the door jingled again—but this time it wasn’t a familiar face.

A young man in a black hoodie and jeans stepped inside. Hood up, hands buried in the pocket. Nervous energy radiated off him. His eyes darted from the counter to the candy aisle to the cameras in the corners.

Omar didn’t stiffen. He didn’t frown. He simply raised an eyebrow.

“Afternoon,” he said, tone polite but unimpressed.

The young man walked right up to the counter, posture tense.

“Aight, old man—open the register,” he demanded. “Now.”

Omar blinked slowly. “No.”

The robber scowled. “What?”

“I said no.” Omar sighed, as if he were being tasked to restock the heavy soda crates again. “Habibi, take your hands out of that pocket. I am too tired today for stupidity.”

The young man bristled. “I’m serious! Don’t make me—”

Omar lifted just one large, thick finger—and the robber fell silent.

“I had a robber last month,” Omar said calmly, leaning his elbows on the counter as if settling into a story. “Very jumpy kid. Not unlike you. He also did not like how things ended.”

Full Audio Vid + Story on Patreon

Full Audio Vid + Story on Patreon ⬆️

The late afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of oak and pine, casting mottled shadows over the leaf-strewn forest floor. Grandfather Boone, a grizzled, rugged man with a beard streaked silver, squinted through the trees, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat. His green outdoor button-down shirt clung slightly to his stout frame, and his brown pants were streaked with mud from a morning’s walk along his sprawling property. Nothing irked him more than finding trespassers on his land, and the crunch of footsteps and muffled laughter up ahead set his temper simmering.

Through the trees, he saw them—a young couple, clearly college-aged, fumbling with a tent and scattering gear over his prized forest. The boyfriend, tall and cocky, waved at him with a smile that only stoked Boone’s irritation.

“This land’s private!” Boone barked, stomping toward them, each step rattling leaves and snapping twigs. His voice carried the weight of decades spent ruling his property.

The boyfriend, trying to appear casual, raised his hands. “Hey, sir, it’s just—uh—it’s no big deal! We’ll pack up, promise.”

Boone’s eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat, and his bushy beard twitched with irritation. “No big deal?” he growled. “You’re on my land, boy. That’s a BIG deal.”

Before the young man could protest further, Boone lunged forward with surprising speed for his stocky, rugged frame. One strong hand seized the boyfriend by the torso, and with a gruff, guttural growl, he tilted his head back and began swallowing him headfirst. The sounds of muffled protests and sharp gulps echoed through the forest, each gulp Boone took sending his chest heaving and his belly expanding…

This is a PACKED one for you guys! A story, video and lots of illustrations to show you why it’s a BAD idea to piss off a drunk hungry man! A bold move when vore is legal now. URRPPP!!

Check it out on Patreon! 🔗 ⬇️

Full Scene on Patreon! ⬇️

Jax is a long time bodybuilder and fitness expert. He knows the gym like the back of his hand and the upcoming competition he's currently training for is where he shows it off. If there's one thing he's learned after all these years is that you can't grow muscle without the right fuel. Unfortunately for the college punk that's been glaring at him at every machine and complaining that he's taking too long, Jax decided that its time to show him first hand what happens to his fuel and why there's been more missing posters around town the closer it's gotten to stage time 😈

"Yo! Old man how long is it going to ta- H-hey!! What are you doi-?! MMMPHHHH!!

GULP! GULP! GULP! GLURK!..................URRRAAPPPP!!!

(In possibly my favorite vid so far, you can enjoy vore, meal domination, and the campy aftermath in this cheeky vid. I spent some extra effort in directing this one. Hope you like how it turned out! Some of my favorite vore elements are in this one.)

Full story + Vid w/ Audio ⬆️

Grant had smoked a ham the size of a spare tire.

The dining table groaned under the weight of it all.

So did the men.

They dug in, plates disappearing under heaps of food, laughter rolling around the cabin’s timber beams. Grant seemed especially at ease tonight—maybe it was the warmth, maybe the beer, maybe just finally having people around his table. He ate with gusto, deep satisfied grunts rumbling out between mouthfuls. His friends were already loosening their belts by the time he refilled his own plate twice… then a third time.

Owen chuckled, watching Grant reach for a ladle dripping with gravy. “Man, where does all of that even go? You’re a machine.”

Miguel grinned. “I’m convinced he’s hollow inside.”

Grant shrugged, his beard brushing his collar as he dug into more stuffing. “Big man needs big fuel.”

But inside him—buried beneath the warmth, the fellowship, the feast—something else stirred.

A deep, old, feral hunger curled awake.

It started as a warm pressure in his gut… then spread, coiling into his chest, tightening behind his ribs. Grant sat back for a moment, feeling his stomach push subtly against his gray sweater. He took a breath, steady and slow, but the hunger unfurled wider, licking at him from the inside.

He reached for the turkey leg next—and tore it off with his teeth like it was nothing. The guys laughed, but Grant barely heard them. His body wanted more. His pulse kicked up. His throat felt too empty, too needy.

Darren, always the instigator, leaned forward with a grin.

“Hey, Grant,” he said, smirking. “Think you could out-eat all of us put together? Bet you could. Hell, bet you could swallow half this table.”

Grant’s eyes flicked up.

That was all the permission he needed.

He stood so suddenly his chair scraped back across the wood floor. His huge hand came down on the roasted turkey—Miguel barely had time to yelp before Grant lifted the whole bird to his mouth.

With a single deep, rolling gulp, Grant’s throat expanded.

With another, the entire turkey vanished past his bearded jaw.

Owen froze, mouth open.

Miguel dropped his fork.

Darren blinked, stunned—but only for half a second.

Because Grant’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“Whoa—whoa, hey, h–hey—GRANT—wait—” Darren sputtered, stumbling as Grant pulled him in like a meal already claimed. His massive hands lifted the man with shocking ease, and Grant’s jaw stretched, beard brushing Darren’s chest as he shoved the struggling man inside.

Full Story and Vid on Patreon

Full Story & Clip on Patreon 🔗 ⬆️

Elias had only been living on his own for three months, but nothing in his little independent world sparked his nerves quite like his neighbor across the hall.

Darren.

A strikingly handsome, broad-shouldered, mid-forties ex-football player with thick forearms, a slow, confident stride, and a grin so bright and white it made Elias straighten up every time he saw it. Darren had that kind of presence—warm, heavy, commanding. Elias always felt his stomach flutter when the older man said his name.

Elias almost forgot how words worked when Darren knocked on his door one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe in a snug T-shirt stretched over a still-impressive chest, and asked:

Full Vid on Patreon! ⬇️

A starving dad and his family have been stranded on a tropical island for what feels like forever and it looks like the scraps of food they could find has finally run out. Uh oh. Dad's already lost some weight and he's really not into the idea of starving or ruining his figure...

Well I don't think I have to tell you what happens when you keep a dad hungry. Enjoy this new 2 part tale of gluttony where a dad unlocks a hunger that gets out of control quick.

(Idk what it was about this one but his belly was absolutely hypnotic and I loved making it bounce 🥴)

Includes: Lighthearted themes of cannibalism, an incredibly full man, and a belly that's hard not to stare at.