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#Post#: 68705--------------------------------------------------
Conker & Bowser Jr. So Hot
DIR By: Grod
Date: September 13, 2026, 2:24 am
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The scent of lemon floor wax and stale sulfur filled the small,
striped dressing room. Conker shifted his weight, the fabric of
his blue hoodie straining against the sudden, heavy swell of his
hips. Beside him, Bowser Jr. leaned back, his polished green
shell clicking against the wooden floorboards.
Conker cast a sideways glance over his shoulder, a sharp grin
slicing his muzzle.
"You still staring, mate?"
Junior let out a raspy cackle, his red hair plume twitching. He
arched his back, emphasizing the sheer bulk of his yellow
scales.
"They can't help it, Conker. Look at them. Totally mesmerized."
"Poor things," Conker remarked. He gave a slow, rhythmic sway,
his orange fur shimmering under the studio lights. "Probably
never seen assets this refined in their entire miserable lives."
Junior snorted, a small puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. He
glanced back at the unseen audience with a heavy-lidded, smug
expression.
"I bet they're trying to figure out how we got this plump.
Maybe it's royal genetics. Or maybe I'm just built better than
some commoner."
"Don't be so humble, kid. It ruins the aesthetic," Conker
replied. He placed a gloved hand on his hip, tilting his pelvis
to maximize the curve. "I can practically hear their jaws
hitting the floor. It's a symphony of desperation."
Junior shifted, the hard keratin of his shell contrasting with
the soft, expansive heave of his backside.
"Do you think they want a closer look? I could give them a
show, but the price just went up."
"Greedy little brat. I love it," Conker chuckled. He looked
directly into the void of the lens, his eyes glinting with
mischief. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you
just overwhelmed by the view?"
Junior leaned closer to Conker, their frames pressing together,
creating a wall of orange and yellow.
"They're probably wondering if it's real. Tell them, Conker.
Tell them it's all natural."
"As natural as a bad hangover on a Sunday morning," Conker
quipped. He gave one final, provocative shake of his rump, the
momentum nearly knocking Junior off balance. "But let's be
honest. You're not looking for the truth. You're just enjoying
the scenery."
Junior let out a loud, triumphant laugh that echoed off the
striped walls.
"Face it. We're the main event, and you're just the audience.
Now, stop blinking. You might miss something."
Conker winked, his expression one of pure, unadulterated
arrogance.
"Toodles."
Junior’s smugness had reached a fever pitch. He shifted his
weight, looking over his shoulder at Conker with a challenging
glint in his eyes. The air in the dressing room felt thick,
charged with a sudden, playful tension.
"You talk a big game about assets and aesthetics, Conker,"
Junior rasped, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But I bet you're
all talk. I bet you wouldn't even know what to do with a rump
this royal."
Conker stopped his swaying, his eyes narrowing. He let out a
slow, low hum of contemplation. "Is that a challenge, kid?
Because I’ve dealt with far more stubborn things than a spoiled
prince."
Junior didn't answer with words. Instead, he let out a sharp,
mocking giggle and pivoted. With a deliberate, slow motion, he
planted his palms on the edge of a nearby equipment trunk and
bent over, arching his back deeply. He pushed his plump, yellow
backside out toward Conker, the scales shimmering under the
harsh overhead lights.
"Right here, Conker. Give me your best shot," Junior taunted,
his voice muffled by the trunk. "If you've actually got the
nerve."
Conker didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, the floorboards
creaking under his boots. He loomed over the prince, looking
down at the expansive target. He raised his gloved hand high,
the air whistling as he brought it down with a sudden, violent
force.
*WHACK!*
"EEEEK!" Junior shrieked, his entire body jolting forward. The
sound of the impact echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Conker didn't let up. He shifted his stance, bringing his other
hand down in a rhythmic, heavy cadence.
*SLAP! SMACK!*
"Hnnngh! Ah! Stop—no, don't stop!" Junior groaned, his voice a
mix of shock and strange delight. He gripped the edge of the
trunk tighter, his knuckles whitening.
"What happened to the royal confidence, Junior?" Conker
chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He delivered a
particularly stinging blow that left a visible flush on the
yellow scales. *THWACK!*
"Aaaah! Hahaha! You... you actually hit hard!" Junior gasped,
his breath coming in short, jagged bursts. He let out a long,
shaky moan as Conker continued the assault, the sounds of the
spanking filling the small space. "Mmmph... more!"
"Greedy little brat," Conker muttered, though he was grinning.
He landed one final, thunderous slap that made Junior’s legs
tremble. *CRACK!*
Junior collapsed forward onto the trunk, panting heavily. He
turned his head to the side, his face flushed, a dazed but
satisfied look in his eyes.
"Heh... not bad, squirrel," Junior whimpered, a small,
triumphant smile on his face. "Not bad at all."
Conker dusted off his hands with a smug expression. "Told you.
I'm a professional."
Junior pushed himself up from the equipment trunk, his breath
still hitching, his yellow scales still humming from the heat of
Conker’s palms. He wiped a bit of drool from his lip and looked
up at the squirrel, a predatory glint returning to his eyes.
"Fair's fair, Conker," Junior rasped, his voice dropping an
octave. "You had your fun. Now it's my turn to be the
professional."
Conker leaned back, crossing his arms over his blue hoodie. He
let out a skeptical hum. "Oh? And who's going to make me? You're
half my size, kid."
Junior didn't argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression
shifting into a smug, knowing grin. "I might be smaller, but
I've got royal authority. Plus, I know you love the attention.
Don't pretend you don't."
Conker paused, his gaze flickering toward the unseen viewers. He
knew the audience was waiting for this. With a dramatic sigh and
a roll of his eyes, he pivoted. "Fine. But don't go crying to
your dad when I tell him you were being a menace."
Conker bent over, planting his gloved hands firmly on the trunk
where Junior had just been. He arched his back, pushing his
plump, orange rump high into the air, offering the same
provocative view he had boasted about earlier.
"Don't keep me waiting, brat," Conker taunted, his voice
muffled.
Junior didn't need to be told twice. He stepped up behind the
squirrel, eyeing the target with intense focus. He didn't start
slow; he wound up his arm and brought his hand down with
everything he had.
*WHACK!*
"YELP!" Conker shrieked, his body snapping upward. The sound was
a sharp, wet crack that echoed through the room.
Junior let out a manic cackle, his eyes wide with glee. "How's
that for royal authority?!"
*SMACK! SLAP!*
"Oof! Hnnngh!" Conker groaned, his grip tightening on the trunk.
The impact was different from his own—heavier and more erratic.
Junior was pouring all his pent-up energy into every strike.
*THWACK!*
"Aaaah! Stop it! You're... you're actually hitting too hard!"
Conker yelled, though a small, shaky laugh escaped him. He
shifted his hips, trying to dodge, but Junior followed the
movement with ruthless precision.
*CRACK!*
"Hahaha! Look at you!" Junior cheered, delivering a rapid-fire
succession of slaps. *SLAP-SLAP-SLAP!* "The big, bad
professional is just a big, soft target!"
"Mmmph... shut up!" Conker gasped, his face pressed against the
cold metal of the trunk. He let out a long, trembling moan as
Junior landed one final, thunderous blow that seemed to vibrate
through his entire frame.
*BOOM!*
Conker slumped forward, his chest hitting the trunk with a dull
thud. He stayed there for a moment, panting, his orange fur
ruffled and his backside glowing a deep, vivid red.
Junior stepped back, puffing out his chest, looking utterly
triumphant. "Who's the asset now, squirrel?"
Conker turned his head, a dazed, smug smile still playing on his
lips. "Still me... but I'll give you a point for effort."
The heat in the room had shifted from tension to a lingering,
throbbing warmth. Conker and Junior stood side-by-side, their
chests heaving in unison as they caught their breath. The air
was still thick with the scent of ozone and exertion.
With a synchronized, knowing glance, they both turned away from
the camera, pivoting on their heels to present their backs once
more. The contrast was stark: Conker’s orange fur was ruffled
and flushed a deep, vivid crimson, while Junior’s yellow scales
glowed with a hot, angry red. Both of their rumps remained plump
and prominent, vibrating slightly from the aftershocks of the
assault.
Conker looked back over his shoulder, a lazy, half-lidded gaze
meeting the lens. He let out a soft, rhythmic hum.
"Hmmm. Still there, are you? I can practically feel the heat of
your gaze from here."
Junior shifted his weight, giving his reddened backside a
little, provocative wiggle. He let out a sharp, mocking giggle.
"Hehe! Look at them, Conker. They’re absolutely obsessed. Just
staring at the damage we did to each other."
"It’s pathetic, really," Conker remarked, his voice dripping
with a smug honey. He leaned forward slightly, emphasizing the
curve of his stung hips. "I bet you're sitting there, clutching
your seat, imagining what it would feel like to be the one
delivering the blow."
Junior cackled, his red hair plume bouncing. "Oh, they
definitely are! I can see it in their eyes. You want a piece of
this royal rump, don't you? You wish you were the one making me
shriek."
"Tsk, tsk," Conker tutted, shaking his head. He gave his own
rear a playful, stinging slap with his palm. *SMACK!* He winced
slightly, a small moan escaping his lips. "Mmm... but you're
just a spectator. A little fly on the wall, watching the real
pros have all the fun."
Junior leaned in close to Conker, their flushed sides pressing
together. "Imagine the sound it would make. *WHACK!* Just think
about it. But you'll never get the chance."
"Exactly," Conker agreed, his grin widening into something
predatory. "You get to watch, you get to want, and you get to
stay exactly where you are—on the other side of the glass."
Junior let out a long, triumphant laugh that echoed through the
striped room. "Hahaha! Keep staring! Maybe if you're lucky,
we'll give you another view before we leave."
Conker winked, his expression one of pure, unadulterated
arrogance.
"But for now? Just keep dreaming, you little voyeur."
The heavy door of the dressing room creaked open, admitting a
small group of anonymous men. They entered with hesitant steps,
their eyes wide and fixed on the two figures still posing in the
center of the room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat
and the lingering heat of the spanking.
Conker didn't even turn around. He simply looked over his
shoulder, his eyes glinting with a mixture of boredom and
dominance.
"About time," Conker drawled. "We're starting to get sticky. Get
over here and make yourselves useful."
Junior let out a sharp, demanding cackle. "You heard him! Line
up! And don't think you're getting a free pass—I want every inch
of these scales polished."
The men scrambled forward, their breathing heavy and
synchronized. With a synchronized movement, Conker and Junior
leaned over the equipment trunk once more, presenting their
reddened, plump rumps. The contrast was vivid: the deep crimson
of Conker's orange fur and the hot, angry glow of Junior's
yellow scales.
"Go on then," Conker hummed, his voice a low vibration. "Don't
make us ask twice."
The first man stepped up to Conker, his tongue darting out
tentatively. As soon as the warm, wet muscle made contact with
the sensitive, stinging fur, Conker let out a sharp, sudden
gasp.
"Mmmph! Hnnngh..."
*Slurp. Lap. Schlorp.*
"Hehe! Look at them," Junior giggled, feeling the first flick of
a tongue against his scales. "They're like little puppies. It's
almost cute."
*Lick. Slurp.*
Junior arched his back, pushing his backside further into the
man's face. "Faster! I can still feel the sting. Get it all!"
The room filled with the rhythmic sounds of wet licking and the
heavy breathing of the men. Conker closed his eyes, his head
lolling to the side as the sensation transitioned from a sharp
sting to a soothing, sliding warmth.
"Oh... god," Conker moaned, his voice strained. "Right there.
Yeah... just like that. *Hnnn.*"
*Schlorp. Lap. Slurp.*
Junior was practically bouncing, his laughter turning into
shaky, high-pitched moans. "Aaaah! Hahaha! It tickles! But...
mmm... keep going! Don't stop!"
The men worked with a desperate intensity, their tongues
sweeping across the flushed skin and fur, cleaning away the
sweat and the remnants of the heat. The sound of wet flesh
meeting wet flesh echoed off the striped walls.
"You're doing a decent job, boys," Conker murmured, a smug smile
returning to his face. He gave a small, rhythmic shake of his
hips, forcing the men to adjust their grip. "Maybe we'll keep
you around for a while."
Junior let out a long, shuddering breath, his body finally
relaxing against the trunk. "Mmmm... so much better. I feel like
a brand new prince."
Conker looked back at the camera one last time, his expression
one of utter triumph.
"See? We told you we were the main event."
The men pulled back, breathless and glistening, their faces
flushed from the intensity of their task. They stood there in a
dazed silence, looking at Conker and Junior with a mixture of
awe and desperation.
Conker straightened up, stretching his arms over his head. He
looked at the men, then at Junior, a slow, mischievous grin
spreading across his muzzle.
"Well," Conker drawled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I
suppose it would be rude not to tip the help."
Junior’s eyes lit up. He let out a manic giggle, his red hair
plume twitching. "A reward! I love rewards! And since I'm the
prince, I get to decide how generous we're feeling."
The men shifted, their breath hitching in anticipation. Junior
stepped forward, his gaze dropping to the bulge in the first
man's trousers. He didn't waste a second, his small, clawed
hands reaching out to deftly undo the fastening.
"Don't just stand there," Junior commanded, his voice a raspy
whisper. "Get comfortable."
Conker followed suit, moving toward another man with a predatory
grace. He knelt down, his blue hoodie bunching around his
shoulders as he worked the zipper open. The air in the room
became heavy with the scent of musk and anticipation.
As the men were exposed, Conker leaned in, his eyes glinting. He
let out a low, appreciative hum. "Quite the collection we've got
here."
Without further preamble, Conker wrapped his lips around the
warmth, his tongue swirling in a practiced, rhythmic motion.
*Schlorp. Slurp.*
The man above him let out a sudden, strangled gasp, his hands
instinctively reaching down to grip Conker’s orange fur. "Oh...
god... yes..."
Beside them, Junior was far less subtle. He dove in with an
eagerness that was almost feral, his mouth creating a tight, wet
seal.
*Gluck. Schlop. Gulp.*
"Mmmph! Hnnngh!" Junior moaned around the length, his eyes
rolling back in a mixture of effort and glee. He looked up at
the man, a smug, challenging expression on his face even as he
continued to work.
The room was soon filled with the symphony of the act—the wet,
sliding sounds of oral pleasure and the ragged, uncontrolled
breathing of the men.
*Slurp. Schlorp. Gluck.*
"You like that, don't you?" Conker murmured, pulling back for a
split second to speak, a string of saliva connecting his lips to
the skin. "Told you we were professionals."
He dove back in, increasing the pace, his cheeks hollowing as he
created a powerful vacuum. The man groaned loudly, his hips
beginning to twitch involuntarily.
*Suck. Slurp. Gulp.*
Junior was matching him, his head bobbing rapidly, his small
hands massaging the base of the man's shaft. "Hahaha! Look at
him! He's about to blow!"
The tension in the room reached a breaking point. The men were
shaking, their breaths coming in short, jagged bursts.
"Now!" Junior muffled, his voice barely audible.
With a final, intense surge of suction and tongue-work, the men
reached their limit.
"AAAH!" one of them roared, his body stiffening.
*Splurt. Gulp. Schlop.*
Conker and Junior didn't flinch. They took every drop,
swallowing with deep, audible gulps that echoed in the quiet of
the room.
*Gulp. Gulp.*
Conker pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove.
He looked up at the spent men, his expression one of pure,
unadulterated dominance.
"There you go," Conker whispered, a smug wink completing the
gesture. "Consider your debts paid."
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