Travis and Connor in: Clean Your Room!

Travis and Connor in: Clean Your Room!
By Yu May and Redd
Characters created by Redd

Travis Bright sat in his gaming chair with his black cat-ear headset on, talking to the live chat. With his thin goatee, and his shaggy mop of dark brown hair, he looked like he could have been the emo cousin of Norville “Shaggy” Rogers of Scooby Doo, Where Are You? fame. 

A thin line of red scotch tape divided the dorm in two, and exactly half of the dorm room was a complete mess. Chip bags and empty Monster Energy cans covered half of the coffee table and half of the floor. Posters for various grunge bands and video game franchises plastered the walls on the messy side of the room.

The other half of the room was pristinely clean, with the exception of the two-part kitchen sink, which was half-way full of dirty, crusted-over dishes. The only decorations on the clean half of the room were a simple framed diploma and photograph of a tall, handsome, strapping, All-American lad in a high school football jersey.

Then, the door opened, and a tall, handsome, strapping, All-American lad in a college football jersey entered the room. “Hey, Travis! I’m all set to cook for our… dads?”

Travis glanced away from his game, but only for a moment. “Oh, sup Connor? Say hi to chat. Chat? Say hi to my roommate.”

Connor dropped his bags of groceries. “Travis! What is this? You said you were going to clean up your side of the room over the weekend!”

Travis shrugged. “It’s Sunday afternoon. I still got time.”

Connor started scrambling to pick up the groceries. “No! They’ll be here any minute! My dad’s gonna flip when he sees this!”

“So, just tell him it’s my mess. Who cares?”

Connor ran his fingers through his perfect hair. “My dad will care!”

Pouting, Travis scowled at Connor over his shoulder. “Well, you can clean it then.”

Connor inspected Travis’s side of the room. If anything, it was worse than what he’d seen when he left on Friday to visit home. 

Then there was a knock at the door. With a jolt, Connor latched the bolt. Peering through the spy hole, Connor immediately recognized his dad, Mr. Preston Scott, and Travis’s dad, Mr. David Bright!

Connor overheard Mr. Bright’s voice through the door. “You really think spanking will work? I’ve tried it before, but… Travis never seems to learn anything, no matter what I do.”

Connor heard his dad answer, before the door handle jiggled. “Of course it will work! It’s all about proper technique! I’ll… hmm, this door is sticky.”

Connor smirked as he unlocked the door, slowly. Finally, Travis was going to get what was coming to him.

Immediately, Mr. Scott opened the door, carrying a wrapped present that was shaped exactly like a football with a big ribbon and bow. He bore a striking family resemblance to his son, but was slightly taller, slightly broader at the shoulder and slightly more barrel-chested than quarterback son. “Ah, there we go. Hey Connor, you’ll never guess who I bumped into on the way over. Anyway, congrats on—”

He froze when he saw the apartment. “Ugh! What is this?” 

Mr. Bright, a short, plump, but stolid man in his late forties, squeezed his way into the dorm, and whistled softly. “Phew! Looks like a pig sty.”

Mr. Scott crossed his broad, muscular arms. “For shame! It’s a complete disgrace!”

Connor nodded. “You can say that again! Travis has been a slob all year.”

Mr. Scott rounded on his son. “Connor Roderick Winchester Scott, what have you been doing all year? How could you let your room get into this sorry state?”

Connor stiffened, then slowly turned to look at his dad. The stern, all-too-familiar look on Mr. Scott’s face disturbed him.

Connor started stammering. “I… I was cleaning, but that isn’t my side of the apartment. And—well—I thought Travis was going to do the rest of it…”

Travis waved, without looking away from his game. “Hey, Dad.”

Mr. Scott pointed at the shared living room. “Oh, you’re telling me you don’t use this living room space?” He jabbed a finger at the dishes in the sink. “Or the kitchen? I don’t want to hear excuses, Connor.”

“But those aren’t even my dishes!” Connor said, looking at Travis.

“Eh, I thought those plates were communal,” Travis said with a shrug. “I don’t remember who’s used what.”

Mr. Scott set down a wrapped present and crossed his arms. “Connor, I’m disappointed. I came here to congratulate you on your excellent report card, but what do I find? An untidy room! And what do I hear? Excuses. I think you remember exactly what the punishment is for failure to keep your room clean and tidy, young man. Tell me.”

Connor searched his dad’s face. There was no leniency.

Finally, he lowered his head. “It’s a spanking, sir…” 

Travis frowned. “Hey, dude, it’s not all his fault. I could have helped clean up. I just got busy.”

Mr. Scott shook his head, and strode toward the sofa, seating himself on the clean half. “Well, Travis, it’s not my job to deal with you. Connor, you know the drill.” 

Connor hesitated. He did not want Travis to see this. But he also remembered the one time he argued with his dad. Slowly, Connor marched forward to stand in front of Mr. Scott, hands on his head, fingers interlocked.

Then, Mr. Scott nodded to Mr. Bright. “David? You remember our discussion on authoritative parenting? How about a practical demonstration?”

Mr. Bright seemed to wake up. “Oh, yeah! I guess it’s never too late to try and course correct. Ahem… Travis, come ‘ere! I’m gonna beat yer ass!”

Travis laughed. “Very funny, pops.”

Mr. Bright grabbed his arm and pulled him up off the messy side of the sofa.

“Hey, dude! I’m in the middle of a game!”

Mr. Bright sat down next to Mr. Scott, taking his son’s spot on the messy side of the sofa. Then, he roughly pulled Travis forward. Travis yelped as he tripped and flopped down across his dad’s knee. Then, Mr. Bright landed two firm swats over Travis’s jeans.

Mr. Scott shook his head. “Oh no, no, David. That won’t work. I can see why you had trouble. Jeans provide too much protection for an ordinary spanking.” 

Casually, Mr. Scott undid Connor’s belt and dropped Connor’s pants to his ankles.

Connor stepped out of them. He stood shivering, wearing only his football jersey and white briefs.

Travis kicked his legs, then struggled to stand up, but he was held firmly in place. “Okay, pops, that’s enough! You’re embarrassing me!” 

The swats on his jeans did not hurt much, but as he felt a soft prickle building up, Travis started to squirm.

Mr. Scott shook his head at the sight of the struggling. “Be loving, but firm! Tell Travis what you expect him to do. Observe… Connor? It’s time for your spanking, young man. Come across my knee.”

Mr. Bright nodded. “Travis, on your feet, and hands behind your head. You’re long overdue for an attitude adjustment. You gonna obey?”

Connor bent over his dad’s knee. It had been months since his last spanking, back home on Christmas break. It was almost comforting, in a way.

Travis was not comfortable. “Fuck off, pops!” He jumped to his feet. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Mr. Scott shook his head. “Hold on, Connor. Go fetch a bar of soap. Assuming that filthy kitchen has such an object.” 

Silently, Connor hopped up off his father’s lap. He hustled to fetch two bars of soap, bending over to find them under the kitchen sink cabinet, and handed them to the two fathers. Then, Connor obediently folded his hands behind his head, standing in front of his father’s knee.

Mr. Scott nodded. “David, tell Travis exactly what he can expect if he doesn’t accept responsibility and submit to discipline.”

Mr. Bright nodded. “Travis, you’re still under my authority. I’m not paying for tuition so you can slack off all semester playing Nintendo. It’s either a spanking, or I’m cutting you off financially. What will it be?”

Travis was stuck. He did not want a spanking. But he really needed the money.

Finally, Travis pouted. “Okay, fine, pops, I’ll take a spanking.”

Mr. Scott set the soap on the end table and rested his hands on Connor’s hips, angling him to give Mr. Bright a good view of Connor’s quivering backside. Mr. Scott delivered two firm slaps, leaving two, rose pink handprints just below Connor’s white briefs.

“That’s more like it! Now, Mr. Bright, I tend to prefer stripping Connor’s bottom myself before a spanking. It helps reinforce the idea that he’s not in control of what happens to him, and that he’s still under my authority. Of course, there is a good argument for the other approach. If you instruct a willful boy to remove his own jeans, that gives him a chance to demonstrate remorse and practice obedience. I never have to worry about that with Connor, since we spanked all the disobedience out of him long, long ago. There’s pros to both sides.”

Connor winced. He figured his underwear would come down next. He almost felt bad for Travis. “If Travis had only cleaned the kitchen…” thought Connor, tears already building in his eyes.

Mr. Bright looked his son in the eye. “Travis, drop your britches, and get across my knee.”

Travis hesitated. Then he threw up two middle fingers. “Go fuck yourself.”

Mr. Bright shrugged. “Eh, maybe next time.” 

Then he yanked Travis’s pants down in one motion. Travis was wearing boxer briefs with a video-game-themed print. They depicted a joystick across the crotch, and bore the slogan, “1337 Gamer Moment.”

Travis gasped, before he was pulled right back across his father’s knee knee.

Absent-mindedly, Mr. Scott pulled Connor’s briefs down, then picked up a bar of soap. “Excellent pin. That will show him who’s the boss. Now, as for the swearing, the best cure for that is a bar of soap in the mouth. Connor, open wide. I’m going to wash your mouth out. Let’s show Mr. Bright how it’s done!”

As Mr. Bright watched the proceedings, he continued to spank Travis over the seat of his underpants, ignoring Travis’ various vulgarities, obscenities, profanities, and blasphemies.

Connor blushed at the sight of his own bare, muscular bottom. Except for the two hand prints, it still looked pristinely white and decidedly un-spanked. Already, Connor knew was going to miss the sight of it. “But Daddy—”

Mr. Scott pressed the soap bar in Connor’s mouth before he could finish.

Connor wrinkled his nose as he recognized the familiar flavor. He knew every brand of soap by taste alone. “Mmph!” 

Mr. Scott shook his head. “No ‘butts.’ You know ‘butt’ is a no-no word. If I hear any more complaining you’ll be getting this spanking on your naughty, bare booty… Oh, I suppose you already have earned a bare-bottomed spanking today. In that case, I’ll be giving you extras. Now come across my knee, before you make things worse for yourself.”

With a gurgle that sounded like, “Yeth, thurr…” Connor went back over the knee, biting down on the bar of soap in his mouth.

Connor and Travis ended up face-to-face over the sofa, resting their upper torsos on the cushions, both their bottoms facing out toward the television.

No one noticed the red light on Travis’s webcam, nor the still-running livestream on the television screen. Likes, hearts, hand claps, and peach emojis were rolling in from the chat. Slowly, but steadily, Travis’s follower count began to climb.

Mr. Bright unwrapped a bar and held Travis in place. “Travis, say ah!”

Travis clamped his mouth shut.

Mr. Bright groaned. “See, this was always the problem. He won’t hold still long enough for me to spank him!”

Mr. Scott clicked his tongue. “Tut, tut! You’re the adult, David. You have to command respect.” Then he squeezed Travis’s jaw open. “Travis, you’re going to take what’s coming to you, or else it will go much worse for you. Go on, David. Press the soap in, firmly.”

With that, Mr. Bright pressed the soap deep into Travis’s mouth. Travis gave an alarmed cry, but if he had any last words, they were immediately muffled.

Mr. Scott looked at both upturned bottoms, frowning at Travis’s gamer-themed undies. “Hmm, if my Connor acted that way, he’d be getting a spanking on his bare tushie… Which reminds me. Connor, you know the rule. You get a spanking over your undies as a last warning, but since you’ve earned a bare-bottom spanking today, that means I’ll be giving you an extra bedtime spanking tonight to act as reinforcement.”

Mr. Bright beamed, then tugged down Travis’s boxer briefs. “That sounds like a great idea! Wish I’d thought of this years ago…”

Travis coughed and gagged on the soap. But he held the bar firmly between his teeth. Like a primal instinct, something told Travis to bite down onto that bar for dear life.

As Travis looked at Connor, he saw budding tears in his big, strong roommate’s eyes. Then, Travis’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks.

Both of their faces were blushing red. Both bottoms were pale white. The livestream loved it.

The first swats landed at the same time. 

After delivering ten good, hard slaps, Mr. Bright shook his arm. “Hmm, I’m afraid I’m a bit rusty at this.”

Unperturbed, Mr. Scott carried on spanking at a brisk, steady pace. “Just try to find your rhythm, David. Your goal is to be relentless, but controlled.”

The boys grunted and squirmed, as drool ran down their chins. The first twenty swats were not unbearable. Both Connor and Travis remained surprisingly stoic. But already, their bottom cheeks had blushed to a bright, hot pink.

Glancing back and forth at the two upturned bottoms, Mr. Bright started spanking Travis slightly faster. “This approach works wonders. Travis was never this compliant when I used to whoop his ass.”

Mr. Scott sighed at the vulgar word. “Yes, a good, old-fashioned spanking has a way of getting a bad boy’s attention right away. But remember, our goal is to help these boys become good men. A proper disciplinary session should always end in tears. Keep going until you see results.”

“Are we almost finished? My arm’s getting tired.”

“Finished? We haven’t even started, David. A spanking doesn’t end until long, long after the one being punished wants it to end. Now, you’ve driven a stick shift car, right? We’re going to shift into second gear.”

With that, the swats got harder and faster. The boys kicked and groaned, their words still muffled by the bars of soap.

Mr. Scott shook his head. “Connor, after this spanking you will be putting on your pajamas, and then straight to bed. Do you understand, little mister?”

Breathing hard through his nose to catch his breath, Connor nodded, and spluttered out a “Yeettth, ssshurrrr!” 

He hated being sent to bed early, but he knew better than to argue.

Tears formed in Travis’s eyes. This was the hardest spanking he had ever had.

Mr. Scott shifted into a faster pace. Mr. Bright copied him. Both the fathers nodded at eachother in silent agreement: this would be a spanking worthy of two grown men.

Connor broke first. His sensitive heart couldn’t bear the shame. He coughed and hiccupped, spitting past the soap. Then, Mr. Scott landed a particularly hard swat, and Connor started to writhe, tears running freely down his face.

Travis stared in horror as he watched Mr. Scott increased the pace of the spanking yet again. “Holy crap, Connor’s dad is lighting his ass up! And this was all my mess,” Travis thought. 

That pushed him over. Soon both of the boys were sobbing freely, and lay exhausted over their fathers’ knees.

Mr. Scott slowed down, and delivered a final, resounding swat. “There. That should do. David, don’t stop until you think Travis has been punished fairly, but it’s usually fine to stop after this point. When you wrap it up, try to slow down a bit at the end, like you’re bringing in a plane for a landing.”

With a nod, Mr. Bright gave Travis three final spanks, and paused. “Like that?”

“Excellent form! Now, this is essential: the after-spanking lecture. The boys will need to talk, of course, so they can answer our questions.”

After Mr. Scott pulled the soap bar out of Connor’s mouth, Mr. Bright did the same for Travis.

After a few moments, the boys blinked past their tears, then glanced over their shoulders, looking like two whipped puppies. 

Mr. Bright spoke first. “Alright, Travis, you’re going straight to bed along with Connor. Go get dressed. Then it’s time for your–uh–your bedtime spanking!”

Mr. Scott looked pleased. “That’s showing initiative, David. Connor, you heard him. Same marching orders for you. Get into your PJs, then come sit on my lap. Remember, your spanking isn’t over, so keep your heinie bare and ready, just like I left it!”

Travis sniffled and wiped his eyes as he stood up. Then he noticed his state of undress, and quickly pulled his shirt down in front. “But Pops… I usually just sleep in just my underwear!” 

“Then keep ’em tucked down, just like Connor’s doing.”

Travis had started to pull up his gamer-themed boxer briefs, but at the sight of his roommate, he froze, and pulled them back down, pinching them tight between his quivering thighs.

Connor had donned a classic set of blue pajamas. Obediently, Connor kept his pajama pants lowered to just below his bottom, along with his briefs. Then, he trudged toward the couch and sat on his dad’s lap.

Mr. Scott patted his son’s bottom, feeling the radiant heat. “Well, Connor, I’m not happy about the state of your room… But we’re very proud of your academic performance. You may go rinse your mouth out now.”

“Thank you, Daddy…” Connor went to the sink, rinsed, then went to kneel in front of the lower mattress of the bunk bed.

Mr. Bright scratched his head. “So, is this just like the first spanking?”

Mr. Scott shook his head. “No, no. The first spanking was the real punishment. The bedtime spanking is just a little reminder. You know, to help the boys remember to do better tomorrow. Here, watch closely… All right, Connor, this has been a rough day. So, let’s wrap this up. Lie on your back, legs up. Just like your last bedtime spanking. Diaper position.”

Travis blinked. “Diaper position?”

Connor bowed his head. “Yes, Daddy.” Then he climbed onto the bed, and laid on his back. Mr. Scot lifted Connor’s ankles into the air.

Travis blushed at the sight. 

Mr. Bright pointed at the bed. “Go on, Travis, lie next to Connor.”

“But… my bed’s the top bunk?”

Mr. Bright slapped Travis across his butt to goose him forward. “I can’t reach that high, dumb ass! Get on the bottom bunk. That’ll work, right Preston?” 

Mr. Scott beamed. “That will be perfect! I’m sure Connor won’t mind sharing his bed, will you, son?”

Connor shook his head. “No, sir.”

With hesitant steps, Travis then got into the same position next to Connor, looking up nervously at his father.

Mr. Bright rubbed his head, then lifted up Travi’s ankles. “It’s incredible! It’s like Travis has turned over a whole new leaf!”

Mr. Scott chuckled. “Nothing like turning them over your knee to help with that!”

He patted Connor’s upturned bottom. “All right, Connor, this is for… hold on, what was it you did to earn a bare-bottomed spanking again?”

Connor stuttered, “F-for not cleaning the apartment, sir.”

Mr. Scott stroked his chin. “Hmm, that would have earned you a spanking over your britches normally. Oh, that’s right! I had to wash your mouth out with soap for using the word ‘butt.’ Well, other than that, you took your spanking pretty well, so let’s wrap this up.”

Already, both of the boys were worn out. They glanced at each other. Silently, Travis mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Then, the bedtime spanking began. Mr. Scott spoke in a soothing voice. “That’s the ticket! Slow, but steady wins the race. Not quite as hard this time, David. Think of this bedtime spanking like a ‘slow cooker’ for a rump roast. You’ll see! They’ll be crying fresh tears after a few minutes.”

The bedtime spanking dragged on and on, every second feeling like an eternity. Finally, the boys sniffled, and started to let their tears spill freely. 

Just as the boys started to break down into uncontrollable sobs again, their fathers stopped the spanking.

Mr. Scott scooped up his son, cradling him in his arms, then sat down on the bed. “Shush, Connor. You’re forgiven. Once it’s over, it’s all over.”

Connor buried his face on his father’s shoulder, and accepted a hug.

Looking sheepish, Mr. Bright tried to pick up his son, but thought better of it. “Um… There, there, Travis. Get on my lap, kiddo.”

Travis hugged his Dad, blubbering. Not sure what else to do, Mr. Bright patted his son across his bare, red-hot, “Mountain Dew Game Fuel Citrus Cherry”-colored caboose.

Finally, each father tucked his son into bed.

Carefully, the boys made sure to lie on their stomachs, wincing as the bed sheets tickled against their still naked backsides.

Mr. Scott patted Connor’s shoulder. “Good night, Connor. Tomorrow, prioritize getting this room clean. I’m sure you’ll learn from this experience.”

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you for spanking me. I’m sorry I was naughty today.”

“You’re forgiven, Connor Scott.”

Mr. Bright nodded. “I’ll be back next week to check on you, Travis. Start making an effort. And tell Connor thank you for showing you how to behave today.”

Travis swallowed. “Y-yes… yes, sir.” 

Then, Travis glanced over the edge of his bunk bed. “Thank you, Connor. Sorry I got you in trouble.”

Connor shook his head. “I forgive you, Travis.”

The boys nodded, starting to nod off, before Mr. Bright turned off the light. “I’m famished. Want to grab some burgers, David?”

“Yeah, if I can chase it with a beer. I had no idea dishing out a spanking could be such thirsty work?”

Mumbling, Connor and Travis sank their faces into their pillows. It was the end of a long, rough day.

Then, the TV flickered on, and words blared across the screen with aburst. “Congratulations! You just reached 100,000 subscribers!”

Travis’s head shot up. “What the… oh crap! My livestream!”

Connor’s eyes went wide as he saw his own face looking back at him from the television. “Welp… We’re fucked!”

[The End?]