Several years ago a "long neck" (giraffe fursonna) guy by the name of Matt McCullar wrote several stories involving a dalmatian music manager by the name of Trevor (nicknamed "Spotty", for some "odd" reason) finding a quintet of ratal (honey badger) sisters with a very high level of music and song talent and takes them under his "wing"
I've had several story ideas involving the characters and have been getting around to writing them up. and this is one of them. In it a rather unusual looking rabbit guy by the name of Moody (he is a sound tech assitant to Trevor) finds himself drawn into an project involving the sisters.


Characters Yellow, Blue, Green, Violent, and Pink Fornax and Moody are copyright of Matt McCullar and my "thanks" to him for allowing me to use them in this story and for "okaying." me to post it here.

Story is my copyright.


The Photo Shoot or Invisible Fame

Characters: The Fornax sisters, Moody a heavily scarred rabbit guy (Works for Trevor and Fornax), Allen Haggan, a roe deer professional photographer



"Blue, cock your head a little more to the right. Hold it!"
CLICK!
"Green, rest your chin on the backs of your paws and give me a dreamy eyed look. Yes!"
CLICK!
"OK, Yellow, I want you.... Violet, can we dispense with that?"
The devil horns sign sticking up behind Yellow's head vanished.

"The girls found this fantasy painting book and were fascinated by the photos in it. Especially the barbarian warriors and kings and such," Trevor explained to Allen Haggan. "They went into one of their creative tears and came up with a batch of music pieces, all instrumental. They thought any voices would detract for the music itself."
The Dalmatian took a sip of fruit juice and continued.
"Darn good stuff! You can almost feel the harsh winds of a plain blowing in your face and hear the sounds of warriors battling monsters and each other in them!"
"So, the album is completed and you need the front and back photos done for it," said Haggan.
"Yes, something...impressive to match the music."
The 4' 7" tall stag looked at Trevor in thought. Having done several shoots for Fornax albums he knew the sisters could be pretty cooperative, or, by the same token, a severe pain in the tail if they got their hackles up for some reason.
"Hmmmmmmm, if I remember rightly one of the main themes in the genre is rather scantily clad women, mostly slave women."
"All throughout the book," Spotty acknowledged.
"Well, how do you think five ratal fems would feel about playing the role of harem slaves?"
The Dalmatian considered that for a moment.
"Guess I'll have to ask them," Trevor said.

Blue looked over the leather cuff encircling her left wrist. It was almost two inches wide and about an eighth of an inch in thickness. At the clasp point there appeared to be three rivets holding the ends together. There were three shiny metal rings, about an inch in diameter, set in the middle and spaced evenly around it and some decorative embossing, blue colored, near the edges that went the around the cuff. Another cuff just like it was on her right wrist. Her other sisters had them on as well with the embossing work on them matching their color names. They wore gauzy see through gowns that, like a bikini, revealed a lot but hid what needed to be hid. There were other costumes that they would put on throughout the shoot that had less material to them but never got too revealing. The girls didn't mind risqué but drew the line at tacky.
"So, these are one of the symbols that one is enslaved?" asked Blue.
"Yes. The main one is a collar set around the neck but I don't think I'm going to be talking you into doing that," Allen said.
All five ratel women shook their heads. When Trevor contracted Haggan the first time he gave him several "don't do!" things about the sisters.
"Above all, DON'T try to put anything around their necks!" Spotty declared. "The only things they will ever wear there are an engagement necklace then a marriage one."
The Dalmatian grinned at the stag.
"Now, if you want to propose to one of them..."
"My life is interesting enough without adding a ratel to it!" Allen stated.


Finding a couple of body builder types to pose as the barbarian king was fairly easy. Getting them over their concerns about working with ratels was another matter. The two chosen were a 6 foot 4 inch tall mountain lion guy, which got a few odd looks from Green for some reason, and a 6 foot 9 inch tall zebra stallion. The shooting sessions went off without much of a hitch, though Green had to turn back a proposition from the stallion during one of the breaks. A "friendly" show of teeth to back up her "No." was enough to convince him to take her seriously. Allen caught the exchange and took the guy aside and reminded him that he was there to do a job, not to make passes. His point stuck. One of the reasons Allen Haggan was a successful photographer was that despite his small stature, he had a force will that tended to compel even the very stubborn or temperamental to do as he wished. The session took three hours and literally hundreds of shots before things wrapped up. The two male models departed but the girls remained in costume, joking around and doing silly poses on a couple of the sets.
Allen "paged" through the electronic photos as the sisters had their fun. He could not shake the feeling that something wasn't right. The actual images were, to his professional eye, perfect. No, there was something in the photos themselves that just didn't ring true.
"Damn!" he murmured to himself. "What is it?!"

"Bertinu. Sorry I'm running late."
Allen looked towards the new voice. He saw that it was a young male wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It took him a moment to identify him as a rabbit, a rabbit with his ears missing and scarring. Scarring that looked like he had....
"Yessss!!" Allen hissed.
The next thing anyone knew the roe deer was pacing slowly around Moody, intently looking him over.
"Please take your shirt off," asked Allen.
Before he could think about it, Moody complied. The photographer took in the sight of the extensive scarring with interest. He looked around at the sisters, then back to the rabbit.
"Excellent! You're just what's needed!" Allen stated.
He dashed into one dressing room and came back holding a kilt in one hand and pressed it into Moody's arms.
"Go in the dressing room, get out of your shorts and put this on," the photographer told him. "It's adjustable so you'll be able to fit it to you with no problem."
With that Allen fairly shooed the confused rabbit into the room and closed the door.
Haggan could almost smell the sisters' curiosity. Blue spoke up first.
"Allen, just what are you up to?"
"Blue. Picture yourself back in barbarian times. The King sees you, comes up to you, and commands you to kneel before him and become his slave. Would you do it?"
A hard, hot expression sprang on to the ratal woman's face! Her side lip peeled up in a near snarl.
"No way!!" she declared. "He'd have to fight me! Conquer me! Prove that he was worthy! I'd be clawing hi..."
The expression of shocked comprehension on Blue's face caused the roe deer to smile.
"Now," he said. "You understand."

A reluctant Moody came out of the dressing room several minutes later, dressed in kilt only. Haggan nodded in satisfaction.
"Excellent! Ladies, while I swap out the photo packs, take Moody to the throne set, seat him, and position yourselves around it so we can get this shoot started." he said.
Suddenly, it dawned on Moody what the photographer had in mind. An expression of sheer panic washed across his face!
"Nnnn...NO! I don't want to DO this!" the rabbit rattled.
"Why? What's the matter?" Allen asked.
Yellow intervened.
"Mr. Haggan. Moody has been working for...with us for some time. He's seen what even a small bit of fame, connected to us, can do to people. Little of what happens is good. Now, you want to plaster his image all over one of our albums for millions to see?" she said.
Allen caught on. His brow furrowed in concentration as his mind worked on the problem.
"Okay," he said a moment later. "Tell you what. I'll have to computer alter your image to increase your muscle mass. This will alter your looks some, plus change the pattern of the scars. I can erase a few bits of the scarring here and there to further break up the pattern. Then, I can add ears.... Hmmmm, have to have one of them look beat up and about a third of the other one missing..."
Moody winched at the comment.
"And, we can..."
Allen disappeared into the dressing room for a couple of minutes. He came out with something lying in the palm of his paw. Upon reaching Moody he took the object and slipped it over and around the lapine's head.
"There! That adds a nice touch plus disguises things further." he said as he examined the result.
"My!" commented a grinning Yellow. "You look positively dashing, Moody."
The other girls made approving sounds. The patch over his left eye did add a rakish touch to him.
"There is one more thing," said Allen to Moody. "You have the final say on whether or not any of these images get used. Without your OK the whole thing goes no further than the shooting stage. Is that fair enough?"
After a few minutes consideration, plus some encouraging comments from the sisters, Moody agreed.
"Ladies, show him around sets while I get things ready."
They gave Moody the tour as Allen broke out memory packs and reloaded his cameras. The sisters posed their new king on the stage throne and made fuss over him. Pink fitted a bronze colored cornet crown with three jewels set in it on his head. The attention delighted him though some of their whispered comments had him blushing. Haggan saw something else. With the previous models the sisters had been a little tense, on their guard. The body language was different now, more relaxed and casual.
"Okay, folks! About ready to go. Moody, please come over here," called Allen.
Haggen took a few minutes to tell Moody about the meaning of some hand signals he would use and gave him some quick training in how to hold himself so as to present a better image. Finishing up, he noted that the young buck's body language said he was nervous, very nervous.
"Have to do something about that," he thought.
"Moody, in this business attitude is as important as one's appearance. The camera is very unforgiving in what it catches. So...."
He took hold of the sides of Moody's head and made sure he was looking him straight in the eye.
"...remember this. One; you are among friends, nothing here is a threat to you. And two..."
Pause.
"...You ARE a KING! A great one! You have conquered and tamed five ratel women!"
Lightly, he traced a scar line on the lapin’s chest.
"And you have the battle scars to prove it! Everything else, running a Kingdom, out maneuvering conniving rivals, knocking off enemies, this photo shoot is all small stuff by comparison!"
Allen put his hands on Moody's shoulders.
"You ARE the King! Now, go claim your Ladys and your kingdom!"
For several heartbeats he just stood there, then Moody broke eye contact, turned towards the stage, and went to it. Upon arrival, the King assumed his throne.

"Wow!" Moody stated as he looked over the changed image on the screen.
"A little more polishing up and they'll be ready" Allen said.
"All of them?"
"Yes. The changes are applied to the other photos as well as this one, saves a LOT of work that way."
Moody looked on as the photographer worked, what was to him, an incredible feat of photo alteration.. As well as giving "King Moody" muscles that would be the envy of most body builders he had "grown" the image to where the rabbit buck appeared to be some 9 inches taller. The addition of ears further increased his apparent height. True to Allen's prediction the bulking up had indeed changed the patterns of the lines of scars. That kicked up a question in Moody's mind.
"Mr. Haggan..."
"Allen, please."
"Uh, Allen, you can do so much with your computer. Why not just add scar tracks to the guys you used in the previous shoots?" Moody asked. "Seems that it would be a little easier then doing all of this."
"Yes, it would have been less work if I did that but...."
Leaning back, the stag closed his eyes in thought.
"There are things that the eyes...mind expect to see. Ears, faces, various body structures. Adding ears, such as they are, to you is something people will see and not give it a second, or even first, thought about. As a 'barbarian' warrior, we've come to expect them to be big and muscled...."
He grinned.
"...and in as little clothing as possible. A complete fantasy but it is there none the less. These are the things we, in our lives, learn to see."
Opening his eyes Allen sat up and faced the rabbit, looking intently at the scarring on his neck and face.
"We, also, expect some scarring on folks at times. But, something as extensive as yours is another matter. When first seen most are surprised, even a bit repulsed by the sight."
Moody flinched at the photographer’s accurate call on people's reactions to seeing him for the first time.
"Then a kind of disbelief sets in and they question whether such stuff is real...and their minds focus, really focus, looking for anything that could indicate that it isn't the real thing. I could, can place scar lines on someone with the editing gear and programs. But, the least little mistake, the smallest error will, sooner or later, be spotted. Remember, millions of people will be seeing these and if it's called out as a fake by most, the effect we want is lost. Thus, young fella, I prefer the real thing with all the additional work involved."
Turned back to the console Haggan did the polishing up work then printed of the results and handed the hard copies to Moody. He whistled in amazement.
"Wow! If I didn't know it was me...!"
"Look them over. Please let me know 'Yay!" or "Nay!" in two weeks, at the most. The deadline is four weeks from now."
"Alright. I need to run a set of...tests with them and see what happens," Moody said.


Twelve days later:

"Mr. Haggan," the receptionist said.
"Yes?"
"There's a Moody Blackwater here to see you."
"Ahhh, yes! Send him in!"
The two shook hands upon meeting and traded some small talk for a few minutes. Outwardly calm, Allen was nervous and anxious as to what Moody had decided.
"Well, oh King," he said. "What is your decree on the photos?"
Pause.
"Get out your release forms. I'm okay with you using them," Moody replied.
"You're sure?"
"Look, when my own family, even my mother, doesn't know that's me in those photos this is good to go," Moody stated.

A week later:

Violet came into the sound room and found Moody sitting there, looking at a sheet of paper he held in one hand. There was a stunned expression on his face as he stared dumbly at the paper. Her curiousity triggered the ratel fem eased over to him and looked over his shoulder to read the page.
"Wowww!" Violet exclaimed.
"It can't be right!" Moody said. "It's way too much!"
"No it isn't!" she said. "That's the going rate for a professional model for a photo session."
"But...but...I'm not a professional model!" the rabbit protested.
Violet grinned widely as she tapped the bank deposit statement.
"THIS says you are, now! And look at this!"
She pointed at another part of the statement.
"That's a royalty payment arrangement. With each album sold there's a little of the money coming to you. Add to that the other money's brought in by using the photos for advertising and such and it looks like you've got a good and steady income for some time."
Violet gave him a mischievous look.
"Hmmmm, might have to marry you so I can have money to live on when I'm old," she said to him.
"I don't believe this!" he murmured. "All I did was pose for the camera!"
"As does every model that gets the chance."
Moody started in surprise as Violet smooched his nose pad then moved around in front of him.
"Welcome, oh King," she stated as she dropped into a deep curtsy. "To the big leagues!"


Moody finished inspecting a set of speakers at one far side of the stage. Satisfied that they were pointed right and all the connections were good he decided that it was time to take a short break.
Getting things ready for a concert was one constant train of things to be done, problems to be ironed out and small "fires" to be "extinguished". Trevor was in command of the whole thing but there was no way he could be everywhere at once. As such he delegated many things to various members of the road crew. Doing so helped Spotty keep his sanity intact.
Shucking his "Team Fornax" jacket he threw it over his shoulder. Then Moody tucked his ID badge into his shirt pocket, got off the stage, and walked out into the seating area. The crowd was already filtering in and he liked to mix with the audience at shows to hear what they were saying. As he wandered about he spotted a gathering of several girls who were passing something around between them and talking excitedly. Moody eased over to them to listen in.
"Just look at that body!" stated a mouse girl in a plainly lustful tone of voice.
"Yeah! He could throw me over his shoulder and carry me away anytime!" said one of two rabbit fems.
"I can't believe that scarring is real!" spoke a skeptical skunk fem. "It has to be computer generated!
"Nope!" injected a geeky looking mountain lioness. "I've gone over it and so have several of my friends. It's the real deal."
"Wonder how they found someone that marked up?" asked the other rabbit fem. "It looks like he really did get into a fight with ratels."
"Well, I just walked in and they grabbed me for the job," Moody interrupted.
The girls all looked at him.
"That's me," he said, tapping the album front with one fingertip.
They looked him over, seeing some of his scarring showing above his shirt collar and below the cuffs of his shorts. Then the girls looked at the cover again. One, a raccoon, held her hand out, palm down, about a foot above his head as if measuring someone's height. Then she brought her thumb and forefinger together and rubbed them back and forth as if feeling the texture of an ear.
"Nice try, guy," the raccoon girl said.
"Well, you're such a nice looking group of ladies, can you blame me?" he said with a grin.
The fems giggled and walked away.
"Don't know why they don't believe me," he murmured in an amused tone.

Moody turned and headed back towards the stage. He smiled and hummed to himself, an invisible rabbit basking in the light of fame.