Shhpirki stood in place as tailors of both species measured every part of his body from his muzzle to his tail. He was going to be making an appearance at the annual Windmere Gala as the guest of honor alongside Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves.
The Drom flinched slightly as his diaper was poked a bit too firmly, but the measurement was necessary for his formal shawl to fit perfectly. After all, it would be unseemly for any sign of his protective garments to be visible.
“Sir, your necklace,” a Human attendant in a sharp suit said, holding up a velvet lined case.
He looked at the necklace and for a brief moment, it was rhinestone studded leather with a heart-shaped tag in gold. But that moment passed and it was again fine gold with a bejeweled feather that mimicked his shimmering green plumage.
Once the measurements were done, Shhpirki was helped into the formal shawl by the attendants despite his protests. Of course, they ignored him, saying that the shawl was difficult to put on by one’s self and for optimal presentation, they had to put it on for him.
But once he was dressed, Shhpirki looked at himself in the mirror. There was a stately Dein Drom, his long horizontal body covered in a fine shawl of dark silk that flowed like ocean waves on a moonlit night. The emerald feathers visible on his arms and neck added a splash of color that contrasted beautifully with the shawl. And the necklace added a tasteful, understated touch.
It was then that another Drom dressed in a red evening gown that accommodated her horizontal posture and tastefully concealed her diaper entered. “Ooh, is Emerald ready to make his big debut?”
“Yes, Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves,” a Drom attendant. “He’s just getting his collar adjusted.”
Shhpirki tilted his head. Who was Emerald? Was that her domestic raptor?
The other Drom grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the dressing room and into the crowd. “Come on, we can’t be late!”
Shhpirki simply ignored it as she was also apparently the guest of honor as well. Perhaps she was touch impatient?
***
The walk to clubhouse was lined with red carpet and paparazzi of both species. Shhpirki slowly walked behind Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves who eagerly waved to the adoring crowd. Wealthy Droms and Humans also proceeded down the red carpet and waved like celebrities as white camera flashes clashed with the golden sunset over the manicured grounds.
The inside of the clubhouse was a monument to wealth with designer furniture, ice fountains, canapés and appetizers from Windmere’s most exclusive restaurants, meals prepared by private chefs, costly libations, and people of both species decked out in their finest clothing.
Shhpirki was about to grab a plate to help himself, but for some reason, he was unable to stop following Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves.
***
The clubhouse ballroom spoke of wealth and privilege, but in a quieter, less ostentatious manner with subdued lighting and tasteful paintings of ocean sunsets and fish.
When he took his position at the podium next to Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves, he saw himself in the mirror. It was then that everything shattered.
The fancy shawl shrunk until it was practically a costume piece that covered only the front half of his body, leaving his diaper exposed. A diaper that he realized had the tapes and landing zone on the back. Just like the ones that domestic raptors wore.
His necklace morphed into a rhinestone studded leather collar with a gold tag that read “Answers to Emerald. Reward if found.” followed by a phone number that certainly didn’t belong to him.
And most humiliatingly, an expensive leather leash connected his collar to the wrist of the Drom in the red evening gown who was addressing the crowd.
A crowd where several Droms suddenly changed positions from sitting in seats made to accommodate their tailed, horizontal bodies to lying at the feet of someone else. Their fancy evening gowns and shawls morphed into costumes, necklaces turned into collars and leashes materialized from thin air.
The truth hit Shhpirki hard. He wasn’t the guest of honor at the annual Windmere Gala. He was a companion — a Drom hired as a pet by the rich as a grotesque display of wealth.
He struggled to keep his composure as memories of his downfall bubbled up like harbor mud.
***
If sitting next to his “owner” while she prattled on about “supporting local businesses” wasn’t humiliating enough, when the speech was finished and the guests dispersed to network and socialize, Moonlight handed Shhpirki’s leash to an attendant.
Shhpirki allowed himself to be led outside, past the string quartet and tables filled with various dishes. He stopped for a moment as the warm, green-metallic-briny scent of Windmere Jewel oysters tickled his muzzle.
Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered them being his company’s signature item: oysters that were bred for plumpness and fed a specially designed kelp and plankton mix that provided them with their unique flavor.
“Okay, Emerald! Time to play with your friends!” The attendant removed Emerald’s leash and gently ushered him inside the fenced in pet run with a gentle nudge on his flank.
Shhpirki reluctantly entered, listening to the gate slam shut. There, he could see several other companions lounging in the distinctive roosting or “loaf” position of a relaxed raptor with their feet tucked under their bodies and their tails curled around themselves on oversized pet beds that smelled of cedar and sandalwood.
“So, how are things going?” Shhpirki asked, settling into one of the unoccupied pet beds. “Anyways, I’m Shhpirki.”
One of the companions, a Drom with fiery orange-red plumage gave a dismissive snort. Like the others, he was dressed in a backwards taped diaper and collar. He also wore a suit designed for raptor bodies. Though it was made of real high-quality materials, it was clearly a costume made for the amusement of pet owners. “I’m dressed up like a show raptor and wearing a collar that says my name is ‘Sunny’. Though the name on the contract is actually Sun-Through-Clouds,” His tail lashed against the ground.
Another Drom glared at the expensive crystal bowls in the corner. “It’s like they’re making fun of us. They serve us sparkling water in a goddamn dish like we’re domestic raptors.” Her white feathers rippled in disgust as she looked at herself. She wore an evening gown identical to the one worn by Moonlight-Dances-On-Waves, but cut short so it exposed her diaper.
It was then a woman approached the run and looked at the Drom who last spoke. “Oh, is my Pearl having fun with her friends?”
For a brief moment, “Pearl” looked like she had eaten a mouthful of broken oyster shells, but she assumed the expression of a pet eager to see its owner. She chirped and wagged her tail.
“Of course! Let’s see if you’re all nice and clean!” The woman then gently lifted “Pearl’s” tail and gave her diaper a firm squeeze.
The squelch made all the companions flinch.
“My goodness! Someone is a soaky raptor! Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before you leak all over the place!”
Thanks to being a Velos Drom and significantly smaller than the other Droms, “Pearl” suffered the indignity of being picked up and carried away for a diaper change by her “owner”.
Another Drom, this one was a Tahra as evidenced by their large size, simply looked out across the golden ocean that twinkled with the lights of yachts. Their deep black feathers rippled. Unlike the others, they wore a spiked collar and a diaper, nothing else.
“So, uh, aren’t you a bit underdressed?” Sun-Through-Clouds asked, trying to inject some levity into the situation.
“My ‘owners’ didn’t want to dress me up.” The Tahra’s voice was very soft and feminine in sharp contrast to their muscular frame. “My name is Tslki but my collar says I’m ‘Midnight’. Apparently, he’s some kind of masculinity-addled tech bro who thinks having a tough-looking raptor is cool and not a flashing ‘Tiny Penis Alert’.”
“That him and his buds?” Shhpirki asked, pointing a claw to a group of Droms and Humans in their early twenties. Over the string quartet that was playing in the nearby gazebo, he could hear the banter coming from the group. It was sexually charged, explicit, and crude. All things that he would have never tolerated among his office staff or at parties, but reluctantly allowed among the mariners who tended the kelp and shellfish farms.
Tslki nodded. “Yeah. Christ, those guys have even filthier mouths than my coworkers. And I used to be a dockworker.”
It was then Pearl’s “owner” gently deposited her back into the run. “There, all nice and clean! Be a good girl and play nicely!” The woman gave Pearl an affectionate rub on her neck.
“If she does that one more time, I’m going to bite her fancy shoes in half,” Pearl muttered, peeling her lips back to expose the blade-like serrated teeth of a Drom.
“So, uh, Pearl, is that your real name?”
Pearl nodded. “Yeah, maritime names are a theme in my family.”
“So uh, what was everyone’s life like before ‘embracing’ the pet lifestyle?” Sun-Through-Clouds asked.
“Accountant for Windmere Logistics. They downsized and I got let go. I’m doing this so I don’t lose my house.”
“Dockworker for Oceanus Transcontinental. Their docks got automated so I got replaced,” Tslki replied, her tail flicking slightly. “As for me, gotta pay for Dad’s medical bills after he got injured on a construction site after I lost my dockworker job.
“I used to be a researcher at the Windmere Maritime Institute,” Sun-Through-Clouds said. “They closed down because there wasn’t enough funding. I’m doing this for my children’s college fund.”
Shhpirki’s feathers flattened as everyone looked at him. “Well, I used to be owner and CEO of Kelpcity.”
The silence was absolute and reverent.
“You used to own one of the biggest companies in Windmere?” Tslki whispered. “You had articles on Business Insider and Forbes.”
Shhpirki then spoke up. “Yeah, I know everyone’s going to ask how I went from boardrooms and ties to collars and pet runs. I don’t want to go into too much detail, but it involved my partner and a lot of financial wrongdoing. I’m doing this so I can build a nest egg and hopefully start over. I guess I should be grateful that Moonlight pays me so well.”
“Or maybe she finds it amusing that her biggest rival’s at the end of a leash!”
Shhpirki bared his teeth and glared at Tslki, who quickly apologized, realizing that she had definitely crossed a line.
“Okay, good boys and girls get a special treat!” The saccharine tone was the kind of tone that pet owners used with their beloved animals. And it made Shhpirki’s skin crawl under his feathers.
The gate to the run was opened and four identical plates were placed on the ground by a Drom waiter who apparently saw nothing wrong with serving his fellow raptors like pets.
The contents of the plate were nothing short of decadent. The centerpiece was a perfectly cooked bison filet mignon with sides of dairy-free mashed potato that had egg yolks worked in and topped with wild mushroom gravy whose deep earthy aroma evoked ancient forests. The second side was a wilted spinach salad topped with a warm olive oil vinaigrette and sprinkled with microgreens
Another waiter placed an additional plate before the four companions. This plate contained savory appetizers that Shhpirki recognized from the clubhouse: angels on horseback, dairy-free mini quiches, bruschetta, toast points topped with local Windmere crab meat, and cucumber finger sandwiches.
And then the last course, slices of dairy-free chocolate cake that smelled of single origin chocolate, Bourbon and Tahitian vanilla, and even the distinctive smoky-vanilla-amaretto scent of tonka bean. The fact that tonka beans — illegal for seventy plus years — had been used as a flavoring was a testament to the wealth and influence of the people gathered here.
Of course, no meal was complete with a cocktail. Or in this case, a mocktail as one did not serve alcohol to pets.
“Come on, eat pretty before it gets all cold!”
Seeing as utensils were obviously not forthcoming, the Droms lowered their muzzles to the dishes and ate like the domestic raptors they were cosplaying as.
The “owners” of the companions cooed and snapped pictures that would most certainly end up on social media with cutesy, saccharine comments.
Shhpirki had his muzzle buried in the mashed potato and gravy. As he ate, he saw Sun-Through-Clouds mechanically accepting the appetizers that his owner was hand-feeding him as he stared out over the ocean.
Tears flowed freely down Tslki’s facial feathers as she slowly gnawed at the filet mignon, savoring food that was previously unaffordable to her old working-class self but served in the most degrading way possible.
Pearl had her eyes closed as she lapped up the mocktail, hoping the imaginary alcohol would wipe away the degradation.
As Shhpirki finished the rest of his meal and bit into the slice of chocolate cake, the tears he had been holding back flowed freely for it was the same chocolate cake that was served at the opening of Windmere Pearl, the exclusive farm-to-table restaurant that served shellfish and seaweeds fresh from Kelpcity’s Windmere farms.
Memories began to roll in like fog from the sea, concealing the cruel reality.
Shhpirki standing proud and dignified at Windmere Pearl’s grand opening with paparazzi snapping pictures of him and his partner as they presided over the ribbon cutting ceremony.
Him posing alongside some of his workers with the first harvest: a massive clump of oysters that was served at a company celebration and repurposed into a commemorative sculpture that sat in the lobby of Kelpcity’s headquarters until its bankruptcy.
And in that memory fogged Windmere, he was Shhpirki, CEO and owner of Kelpcity, not Emerald, hired pet of Moonlight.
Shhpirki was once Windmere's most well-known businessperson, but the business world is as fickle as the tides that lap gently on the beaches of this coastal city.
And with his business underwater, he has no choice but to reinvent himself as "Emerald".
