Scope
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: expansive imprint


I put a paw over my eyes. “Not this again.”

Dalek Poetry Reading were onstage, playing their hit single Bitch, and had just gotten to the infamous ‘barking chorus.’ All the canines, lupines and vulpines in the audience were booing. Well, the band only had themselves to blame.

I had suggested Steel Raptor as the opening act. Kiss of the Whip would certainly get this crowd into a mood.

“Relax, please,” the Kashlanin kam beside me said, placing a long-fingered hand on my shoulder. He was wearing loose trousers and a long shirt emblazoned with my personal coat of arms of argent, a wyvern in flight or, wings lozengy of the first and azure, armed and langued gules. I had the same crest embroidered on the pocket of the blazer I was wearing.

Which looked rather silly, as I was wearing cargo shorts, the blazer, and nothing else. At least the two items of clothing matched.

I looked up at the kam. “Why the hell did I design you lot to be so tall?”

“I could be shorter,” the Muse genially conceded, “but you wanted someone your own age – “

“Which is sixty-one, not one hundred fourteen.”

“True.” A blink, and the kam was nearer my height now, although roughly half my apparent age. Still, you’re only as young as you feel.

The band ended their set and walked off the stage to scattered applause and more boos. “Showtime,” I said, and I walked out to face the crowd.

The venue resembled the Hollywood Bowl, and yeah, there were a lot of folks gathered there. A curvy cheetah femme called, “Take it off!” to some laughter.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I said.

“Neither are they,” she said, jerking a thumb at three members of Red Dorm, “but you’ve written about us enough that we can kibitz.” The coyote, sable and Irish setter all nodded, grudgingly paying tribute to her argument.

“If I allow you, I have to let the others in,” and with the wave of a metaphorical paw the number of seats in the arena increased.

There were a lot of furs seated there. Members of over a half-dozen military services, bit players from a lot of background scenes, the entire crew of A Quiet Life and His Catholic Majesty’s airship of the line Temeraire, and a quartet of furs off to one side who were squabbling. “Oi!” I said. “You lot quiet down, or I’ll put you in muzzles. And really, Chuck?”

“Sorry,” the vegetarian wolf muttered, “it’s the broccoli . . . “

“So sit over there.”

The marten snorted. “Better not put us in muzzles. Dexter likes that,” and he pointedly ignored the spate of vulpine indignation beside him.

I shook my head, and wagged my finger at Rocket Rat. One stray blaster shot near Chuck would be an interesting fuel-air explosive test. Rod holstered the weapon and tipped his head to one side to listen to something Jane was trying to tell him.

The entire Ni Family were seated front row center, with the Kungs seated beside them. Shin and Fang’s kids were being tended by a rabbit doe dressed as a nanny. She was from Nailani’s clan and was a Spontoonie Guide, so the safety of the babies was assured.

Kung Feicui paused in glaring at her cousin Hao long enough to glare at me. “Are you going to start talking soon? I have to get to work.”

“Soon enough,” I said, waving at all the characters grouped around the arena. Good grief, there were a lot of them. I pointed at Trey and the ewes. “No sex in the theater,” I admonished.

“Okay,” the wolf said equably, while Jack and Carl edged slightly apart, Jack’s ears dipping in a blush.

A lectern appeared, and the crowd quieted somewhat, the utter Babel of various languages dying down as a spotlight shone down over me. “Good morning,” I said, “and welcome, one and all – “

“Yeah, a cast of thousands,” the Black Dog sneered before going back to cramming his face full of Raisinets.

I will have him broken for that. He knows I’m back on my diet, and I nodded to all of the various dominators and dominatrices in the audience.

They all grinned.

I cleared my throat and my tail started wagging as I said, “It’s been almost sixteen years since I began writing for this genre, and I am, as always, amazed at the sheer amount of characters I’ve created,” and I paused for applause, “as well as astounded by the fact that people have actually read and enjoyed the stories that I’ve imparted to them. I couldn’t have done it without you,” and paused to scattered cheers.

They were pleased that I was keeping it short and sweet, in hopes that Steel Raptor would come on.

“In coming years, I hope to continue to broaden the range of my content, while remaining open to new faces coming into the scene,” and far in the back a border collie tipped his hat back and glanced at me.

“As far as adult content,” and this time I had to wait until the cheers and applause died away, “as far as adult content goes, my continued intent is to keep things fresh and not get formulaic about the wide variety of sexualities,” and Hamo was seen applauding with the others.

“So, you’re saying you’ve left an expansive imprint?” the Black Dog said with his mouth full.

“Shut up,” and with a snap of my fingers the personification of my depression was muzzled, hogtied, and delivered to the less-than-tender mercies of Fräulein Pferdebändiger.

To general applause.

“Well,” and a champagne flute appeared in my paw, “Here’s to sixteen years, and many more!” I drank as the audience of thousands (literally; I don’t keep a count of all the characters) got to their feet or hooves and applauded.




End (well, not really)