{"sf1_id":4097,"sf2_id":"5nzwq0x1","title":"Maranatha - Chapter II, as told by Owen Zelazny","author":"khakidoggy","words":9418,"posted_at":"2004-11-21T22:36:00.000Z","tags":["Action","Cock And Balls Torture","Doberman","M/M","Mild Drama","Shower","Wolf"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/4097-maranatha-chapter-ii-as-told-by-owen-zelazny","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/5nzwq0x1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/96/aa/96aa1549-868e-4e4f-a4f5-5b79c394da89","description":"#2 of Maranatha","content":"My footpads are aching like a motherfucker by the time I get to where I'm going.   \nI know there's plenty of people who like to go bare-pawed and they're probably   \nused to it, but the hard, rough pavement is really starting to hurt my feet.   \n  \nIt took me close to an hour to get to the corner of 45th and McCullough, where   \nMalloy lives. It's starting to get busier on the streets and the people in this   \npart of town aren't as obsessed with minding their own business as the slums we   \ncall Bricktown, so I'm feeling really out of place in my raincoat. I cross the   \nstreet, not bothering to look around since there's no traffic yet and beat on   \nthe door of the pawn shop under Malloy's apartment. \"Hey! Open up!\"  \n  \n\"Fuck off and die!\" comes a voice from inside. It's high-pitched and screaming.   \nI wince at the thought of having to face Anezka, the lioness who owns the pawn   \nshop, when she's pissed off like this, but the times are desperate. I bang again.  \n  \n\"Come on, open up! 's Owen!\"  \n  \nThere's silence on the inside and then the sound of the door's bolt being opened.   \nAnezka, all of sixteen years of age but tougher than me and Malloy put together,   \nopens the door with no clothes on. \"Owen,\" she says sweetly, wrapping her arms   \naround my neck in a tight hug that forces me to stoop down. \"Malloy's out   \nlooking for you. He was worried sick,\" she says, walking into the dark, scrappy   \npawn shop. From behind the counter, a tall wolf is pulling his pants up, looking   \nsheepish. \"Hey, stud, I'm not finished with you,\" she snaps at him. \"Pick me up   \nat eight and booze me up and I\"ll let you try again, got it?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp; The older wolf mutters something to the effect that he understands and pulls his   \nplaid shirt back on and as he passes me on his way out we make brief eye   \ncontact: it's the wolf from the Dive's bathroom. His eyes widen in surprise and   \nhe nearly falls over himself as he hurries out the door and slams it shut behind   \nhim.  \n  \n\"You wanna finish what he started?\" Anezka asks, and you can never be quite   \ncertain if she's joking or serious, and if she'll be offended if you get it   \nwrong. \"You charge twenty-five bucks, right?\"  \n  \n\"Love to, Nezzy,\" I say, pulling off the raincoat and tossing it aside. \"But I   \ngot a bit of a problem. Think you can look at it for me, maybe?\"  \n  \nShe looks at me quizically as she pulls her clothes on - black latex pants and a   \nstretchy lycra tube top. Pretty damn hot, for a chick. \"If Li'l Owen's sick, you   \nshould have a quack take a look at him. I'm nowhere near as good with meat as I   \nam with metal.\"  \n  \nI waggle my eyebrows at her as I walk past her, through the open vault-like door   \ninto the pawn shop office, separated from the shop entrance by bullet-proof   \nglass and a rotating compartment so items can be exchanged between the customer   \nand the shop owner. \"That's just it,\" I say and plonk myself down on the counter   \nin front of the glass, unbuckle my leathers and flash her a good look at that   \nthing on my dick.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Whoa,\" says Anezka as she takes a seat in the swivel-chair in front of me,   \npushing my thighs apart. She grabs my balls and lifts them up, ducking her head   \nlow to look at the metal band around them. Then she drops them and pulls over   \none of them magnifying glasses with a light in 'em, stuck on a mechanical arm,   \nyou know the thing. She positions it over my groin. \"Lean back on the glass,   \nrelax. This is going to take me a little while.\"  \n  \nShe kicks of against the desk and slides her chair over to one of the metal   \ncabinets behind her, opening one. She dumps the toolbox she pulls out of there   \nnext to me and rummages inside. \"How did you end up with this?\" she asks,   \nproducing some kind of sensor probe. She holds the main unit in one hand,   \nturning the dials on it till the little LCD screen reads 0.00 and then touches   \nthe probe at the end of the cable to the metal thing, first to the top, then to   \nthe little ridge below it, then along the side. \"Some weird readings... Seems to   \nemit a faint signal when I bring the probe near it...\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"So, can you tell what it is?\" I ask hopefully.  \n  \nAnezka glares up at me, lifting an eyeridge. \"It's a fucking cock-cage made of   \nmetal, what does it look like? Here,\" she adds and waves a screwdriver in front   \nof my face. \"Bite down on this.\"  \n  \nFuck. This is gonna hurt. Still, Anezka knows her stuff, so I take the   \nscrewdriver's handle between my jaws, and not a moment too soon. Anezka grabs my   \nnuts and squeezes them fucking hard and it feels-well, if you're a guy you know   \nhow it feels. It feels a wee mite peculiar, you might say.  \n  \nIt's while I'm sitting there, gnawing on a screwdriver whining like a fucking   \npuppy, gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled fists that the door   \nopens again and somebody comes in. \"Hey, Owen! There you are! You lettin' Anezka   \nblow you again? You really ought to stop giving that girl discounts or she'll   \nnever learn how to hook a man. She's a lioness, for fuck's sake, she needs those   \nskills.\"   \n  \nAnezka's head comes up from my groin, shooting daggers at the dog that just   \nwalked in. \"I'm not blowing him, cockbitch. Do you recognise this?\" she asks,   \nbeckoning him over. Giving me a concerned look, Malloy walks into the office and   \ncloses the door behind him. It slams closed really heavily, the room even shakes   \nwhen the door bolts in place.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Ooh, nice toy, man. What's it for?\" he asks as he spots the gleaming metal   \nbetween my thighs, kneeling down next to Anezka to take a look.  \n  \nShe tugs even harder on my balls, pulling them to one side. I'm trying to inhale   \nthrough my clenched lungs so I can't even groan to let her know how much it   \nfucking hurts. \"It's not just for show, look. See the ring around his nutsack?   \nThere's pins sticking into the skin.\" A portion of the wooden rim of the counter   \nsplinters in my grasp and both of them look up at me. \"Shit!\" says Anezka,   \nletting go of my precious danglers. \"Sorry, I forgot I had them..\"  \n  \nI cover my groin with my hands and bend over and heave deep, deep breaths and   \nwipe the drool from my lips. \"That's okay, Nezzy, but if you wake up in an alley   \nwith one of these on your clit, I get first dibs checking it out.\" She sticks   \nher tongue out at me and starts putting her tools back in the box. \"Hey, wait,   \naren't you gonna take it off?\"  \n  \nShe shakes her head and I give her my puppy eyes. \"No, really. This is some   \nhigh-tech stuff you've got there, some kinda nifty alloy. There's nothing I can   \ndo short of taking all your bits off, man. You'll just have to pray that it's   \ngot some kind of unlocking system. It's a good bet that it does, that black   \nglass plate at the base, just above your balls, looks like it could be a   \nbiometric sensor.\" Malloy and I look at her all goofy-like, both of us   \nunintentionally canting our heads like dogs do when they're confused. Malloy's a   \ndobie, so for him it's natural, but it's a little embarrassing for me.   \n\"Fingerprint scanner.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Solved!\" says Malloy and claps his hands together. \"All we gotta do is get the   \nguy who put this on you to stick his thumb on there, Bob's your uncle. So, Owen,   \nwhere do we go?\"  \n  \nI puff up my cheeks and blow some air out, swinging my legs back and forth   \nbeneath the countertop. \"I've kinda lost some memories, dude. I checked the date   \non my way over and I've got a gap in my head of about three days.\"  \n  \n\"You sure?\" Malloy asks, showing no signs of greater than usual surprise,   \ngrabbing my balls again as well as the metal thing, giving it a few tugs. It   \nfeels none too comfortable, but I let him check me out. He's got a keen mind,   \nMalloy has, and sharp senses. It can't hurt, having him take a look, even if it,   \nyou know, hurts. \"I saw you just last night in that Chinese eatery. You called   \nme up and said you were feeling horny like nobody's business and if I could   \nmaybe get you something to dull that a bit. I scrounged up some paxadril from my   \nbuddy the apothecary and you dropped three capsules while we were having dinner,   \nbut even if you took more than that, pax isn't something you can OD on. You told   \nme not to ask and that you'd explain later.\" Malloy stands up and leans forward,   \nputting his hands on my thighs. He glances over his shoulder to see Anezka   \nputting away the tool box again. \"You for real with the amnesia thing, mate? You   \nknow you don't need to fool me, even if Nezzy can't know,\" he whispers, sounding   \na little hurt.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"I'm for real, bud. I don't remember having dinner with you and I don't remember   \nhow I got this. I'd tell ya if I did,\" I whisper back and I feel all warm when I   \nsee him smile at me. I don't have many friends, and nobody I trust as much as   \nMalloy, so it's good to know we're still on the level.  \n  \n\"That's all I need to hear, pal. We'll figure this out.\" He pets me on the cheek   \nand smiles, then reaches down between my legs again. \"Here, let's see... It   \ncouldn't be that simple, could it?\" the dog says, his thick English accent   \nalways thickening when he's genuinely surprised at something. He reaches down   \nand presses his thumb against the black glass plate. Anezka comes right on over   \nand all three of us watch as a green line appears at the top of the glass plate,   \nmoves down to scan Malloy's thumb. Then the whole plate glows red and then the   \nwhole goddamned world goes red as a bright flash of pain spreads from my groin   \nto every nerve in my body. It lasts only a fraction of a second but it's enough   \nto faze me and when I recover, breathing hard, I see Anezka standing a pace away   \nfrom me, rubbing her bare belly and Malloy right up against the side wall,   \nclutching his abdomen, doubled over.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I think I kicked them, maybe, out of reflex. \"Er, sorry guys,\" I mutter weekly,   \nfolding my ears and looking down at my groin. The metal casing feels warm and   \nthere's some faint smoke coming off the ring around my balls.   \n  \n\"Meh, you kick like a girl,\" says Anezka and lightly punches me on the arm,   \nlicking her chops.  \n  \nMalloy tries to put a brave face on his situation, but it's clear I got him   \nright good. It kind of makes me proud and sorry at the same time and my ears do   \na funny up-down dance that I just can't seem to stop. \"Okay, guess I'm not   \nauthorised to give you back the use of your dick. Try it yourself, Owen. Nezzy,   \nstand back.\"  \n  \nI bark at him, glaring. \"The fuck! D'you know how much that hurt?\"   \n  \n\"Can't say I do, mate, but you can risk another jolt or you can live with that   \nthing on. Let me ask you, though...\" Oh, fuck, here it comes. He's got that   \nassholey grin he gets when he knows he's got an undisputable point he's about to   \nmake. \"Have you taken a piss yet?\"  \n  \nI look down at it, at the smooth metal surface covering the top of my sheath and   \nbriefly I have a vision of the Sisters back in school explaining how our Lord   \nJesus Christ was crucified and how the Romans would bind crucifixion victims   \nwith a rag around their genitals, prohibiting them from urinating so their   \nbladders would burst inside their stomach cavities and they'd suffer   \ninfection-fevers during their time on the cross. \"Fine,\" I say, baring a fang at   \nthe self-absorbed dog who knows when he's right and really likes to make a point   \nof it.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Blowing out a breath and snorting in a fresh one I brace myself. Malloy and   \nNezzy each take a step back to stay out of kicking distance. I press my thumb to   \nthe pad, upside-down by necessity, but the thing seems to recognise it and the   \ngreen scanline moves from the bottom of the panel to the top, then the panel   \nturns blue and I get ready for another jolt... Instead I feel something weird in   \nmy dick, something warm and there's a soft click and both Anezka and Malloy dart   \nforward to inspect my groin as the top cap of the metal encasement pops open on   \na hidden hinge, revealing, sadly, not the rim of my sheath but another metal   \nsurface. Exccept this has two little spouts on them, each with a spiral   \nstriation around the base for something to screw on to. \"What the fuck?\"  \n  \n\"Looks like this is how you're supposed to piss,\" says Anezka, ever the   \nengineer. \"Standard five-millimeter bolt required, I've got a few hoses with   \nthat kind of fixture. Why are there two, though?\"  \n  \n\"Piss and cum, at a guess.\" Malloy fingers the two nozzles. \"So with these he   \ncan just let loose?\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Nezzy shakes her head, scratching her smooth, gold-furred neck. \"The nozzle is a   \npressure-valve. If he lets it flow now it'll just blowback, or worse.\" I look at   \nher with concern. What's blowback, when it happens in your bladder? And what's   \nworse than blowback? \"Screw on a hose and the valve unseals. It's just a   \nquestion of figuring out which is which.\" She goes off, tail swaying over those   \nlatex-clad thighs and returns with a small black rubber hose. \"Here. Go into the   \nbathroom and try it out.\"  \n  \nI accept the hose with more than a few mixed feelings on all of this. I'm used   \nto humiliation, it's my bread and butter, but this... Malloy isn't helping either,   \nthe dog's got a fist pressed to his lips and doing a piss-poor job of concealing   \nhis giggles. \"Right, my dignity and I are gonna take a piss and you can fuck off   \nwhile I'm doing it,\" I say, buckling up my leathers before I hop off the   \ncountertop and walk through the door at the back of the small shop office.   \n  \n  \n  \nSome among you may be interested in hearing the details of what happened in the   \nbathroom, but I'm just not interested in talking about it. It's an unsavoury   \nsubject and not fit for kids' ears. Suffice to say, both Malloy and Nezzy heard   \nme howl when I fixed the hose to the wrong nozzle first (whatever blowback is,   \nit's really bad) but when I got it right and realised just how much I needed to   \ngo... It sounds weird, but it was the best piss I ever took. I deposited Holloway   \nand the junkie's cum while I was at it and flushed it all away, my usual   \nbathroom ritual, eventually stepping out into the hallway feeling somewhat   \nrefreshed.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Finally done?\" asks Malloy, who's just coming down the stairs past the door to   \nAlice's room, the stairs leading to his apartment. I smile wryly at him and turn   \nmy head to hear Nezzy's voice coming from the shop proper. She's on the phone   \nwith someone, prattling away.  \n  \n\"No, it's got it's own power-supply. What? How the fuck should I know? Nuclear   \nbattery, zero-point energy, a fucking warp core, I don't know. Listen, you fuck,   \nif you ever want a chance to make up for that really pitiful ride last weekend   \nyou'll fucking well find the fuck out who could fucking engineer something like   \nthis. Fucker,\" she adds sweetly and hung up.   \n  \nMalloy grinned and pats me on the shoulder. \"Nice leathers, by the way. Where'd   \nyou get 'em?\" he asks, pulling on a snug-fitting leather jacket. \"Actually, I   \nthink this'd look better on you,\" he decides and pulls it off again, handing it   \nto me. \"It's not mine, anyway. I got it off some Heat-head who didn't have   \nenough cash to buy a hit and gave me this instead. Great fucking deal, I think.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I accept the gift without question. We've known each other long enough that we   \ncan skip the 'No, I can't possibly' - 'Please, I insist!' rigamarole. \"Polar   \nbear, was he?\" I ask with a smirk and Malloy slaps me on the shoulder,   \nunderstanding, then, why it looks like the jacket and pants go so well together.   \n\"I'm gonna take a shower, if that's okay?\"  \n  \n\"Course,\" he replies. \"I left my door open for you. And, er, Owen? Do help   \nyourself to the soap,\" he says in a soft, low voice, tapping the side of his   \nsnout conspiratorially as he gives a sniff. I must smell pretty bad, for Malloy   \nto comment on it. I can't tell, myself, but then, my sense of smell's been a   \nlittle off since I woke up in that alley. \"I'm going to go down to the Dive, see   \nif I can piece together where you went after you left that night, and to the   \nDong Ma to see if anybody remembers what happened to you after I left you to   \nyour meal yesterday. Chill out, I'll be back soon.\"  \n  \nI nod to him and grab him by the crotch as he passes. \"Two freebies every Monday   \nfor a month if you help me figure this out,\" I say to him without any funny   \nlooks. It's the closest I can get to telling him how much I appreciate having   \nhim on my side without going all sappy. Besides, Malloy's a good fuck and has a   \ndamned nice cock for sucking so it's not like it'll be a chore. He gets what I   \nmean and nods, giving my hand a hump before he pushes past me, heads through the   \npawn shop office and yells a greeting to Anezka on his way out.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I bound up the stairs and push through the door at the top, thoughtfully left   \nopen by my canine friend on his way out. I let it fall closed and locked and   \nthrow the jacket over one of the wooden chairs at the small square dining table,   \nquickly stripping my pants and tossing them on top of the jacket. With every   \npassing second I can feel a desperation for cleanliness growing within me. Worry   \nkept it at bay until I got here, but now I'm here, with my friends helping me, I   \ncan relax. And I can't relax until I'm clean. Shit, man, I let beggars bone me   \nand not even for money!  \n  \nI head into the bathroom and slide open the shower cubicle's frosted-glass door,   \nturning the heat up to the max and close the door while I wait for the hot water   \nto pump its way up from the boiler in the basement. From the cup on his sink I   \npick the 'guest toothbrush', the one he lends to the boys he brings home   \nsometimes. He has a thing for chicken, does Malloy. He'll go for more mature   \nmeat like me, but 'there ain't no beatin' a boy's bum', as he likes to say.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The toothbrush gets covered to suffocation by toothpaste. I even forget to screw   \nthe cap back on the tube, I'm in such a hurry. It tastes sweet when I shove it   \nin my mouth and start brushing, which probably means I've had rancid breath all   \nday. Great. There's steam coming from the shower cabin and I yelp with glee,   \nthrowing open the door and turning the cold water up till I'm pleased with the   \ntemperature and dive under the streaming water with the toothbrush and foam   \nstill in my mouth.   \n  \nOh, heaven... I continue brushing with one hand and run the other through my hair,   \nover my chest, over my belly... and over that fucking metal thing on my groin. I   \nsnap the lid back over the nozzles, no sense in letting any water seep back up   \nmy tubes, and focus my attention back where it belongs: on the joy of washing.  \n  \n  \nI do the whole thing. Singing, dancing, brushing my teeth again, washing my   \nhair, shampooing my body fur - it's not easy to get a good lather going when   \nthere's water streaming on you, but I'm resourceful and limber so I can reach   \nmost parts of my body to give them an up close and personal scrubbing. The only   \nexception is my dick, but I do my best there too. I lather up my balls and,   \nbiting my lip against the pain, I squeeze them and pull them to the side as I   \npull the showerhead off its hook and hold it upside-down next to my balls,   \nletting the water course up into the encasement through the gap I make with this   \nlittle bit of self-inflicted genital torture. While I'm doing it, I have the odd   \nthought that there are probably folks out there who'd interpret my little   \nadventures sitting on the pawn shop's countertop as C\u0026BT, rather than the R\u0026D   \nthat it was.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; When I'm satisfied I've cleaned inside the metal cocktrap as much as I can I   \nhang the showerhead back up and spend some more time revelling in a nice, warm   \nshower and give myself an extra soaping-down as an excuse for the delay,   \nfocusing on the underarms, between my buttocks, my balls... They've had a rough   \ntime of it and they ache a little, which reminds me that the ache I felt all   \nover my body when I awoke in Bricktown is still there, lurking under my reverie.   \nAlmost the very second I realise this, the brass pipes that form the   \nwater-system in Malloy's apartment give a sudden groan and the spray turns cold,   \na trick I really hate. All the warmth of the last half hour, mocked with a spray   \nof ice-water that'll leave me to dry nice and chilly instead of warm and happy.  \n  \n  \nI turn off the water with a shiver and give myself a good shake to clear the   \nworst of the cold water from my fur, splashing droplets against the frosted   \nglass walls of the cubicle and when I step out, I pick up one of the three   \nfluffy bathrobes hanging on the coat-rack I once helped Malloy drill into the   \ntiled wall of the bathroom. I remember asking him why he wanted that rack for   \nthe bathrobes, instead of just having a tray for towels like most people. He   \njust shrugged and said he didn't believe in towels. And to stop me from asking   \nany further he slapped two pulled two tenners out of his wallet and had me suck   \nhis dick for a while, which is a trick he pulls sometimes. But I never give in.   \nThat is to say, I go down on him, sure, and that shuts me up long enough that I   \nusually forget what I was bugging him about. When I say I don't give in, I mean   \nI don't give in to the temptation to tell him to fuck off. He's my friend and I   \ncan tell him that, but when there's money on the table, he's a John and I'm a   \nhustler. To me, at least. I take my work very seriously.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I enjoy it, sometimes, too, don't get me wrong. Just because in all the sex I've   \ntold you about so far it sucked to be me don't mean it's like that all the time.   \nSometimes it'll be months where I go home with a different guy twice a night and   \nnever have enough fun to even get hard, sometimes there'll be a spell where   \nevery guy I service has me at full-mast for the whole length of the ride. Which,   \nI know, is kinda unprofessional. And when they really insist I can keep myself   \nfrom getting hard by pumping out a few loads beforehand or wearing a ball-clamp   \nto distract me, and even when I do get hard I don't let myself cum unless the   \nclient explicitly asks for it. So don't go thinking I'm just some slut. I'm a   \nhustler. I'm a pro.  \n  \nSometimes there's just somebody that really does it for me, though. There's this   \nbusinessdude that comes to town sometime, dark-brown stallion. Comes to town   \nevery couple months. He's some high-falutin' dude at Sargasso Holdings and has a   \nnice office at that company's building. Whenever he's in town he calls me up. He   \ncan be pretty rough, and amazingly creative. He really gets off on making me   \nfeel humiliated and he'll always find a way, even if it's something embarrassing   \nlike making me wear a twelve-inch butt-plug and a cock-ring under a tuxedo while   \nhe takes me out to some schmancy restaurant. I don't know what it is about him.   \nHe's a big, strong, sexy stud who could snap me in one hand and Malloy in the   \nother, but I don't usually go for guys like that. And there's plenty of people   \nthat get off on treating me badly and they never get me hard. There's something   \nabout him, though. Something about the way he treats others, or the way he sees   \nhimself that makes that arrogance so sexy.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Another guy that always gets me going is Alice. He's not exactly a girly-boy,   \nalthough he's pretty small for a lion his age and he's got that slightly femmy   \nbuild feline guys have before their mane starts to fill out. His name's actually   \nAleš but everybody calls him Alice because, well, it's funny and the kid can't   \ndo much about it. He just turned fifteen and he's a sexy little thing. He's   \nAnezka's brother, both of them hail from Czechia originally. Their folks sent   \nNezzy over when she was nine to live with family, who turned out to be religious   \nfreaks and after she ran away and ended up in Maranatha, me and Malloy really   \nhit it off with her, coming from such similar yet wholly different backgrounds.  \n  \n  \nAlice was only sent over two years ago, so he still has an accent to his   \nEnglish, but he'd heard from Anezka that the aunt and uncle he was supposed to   \nlive with were freaks so Nezzy got me and Malloy to pick him up from the airport   \nbefore the aunt and uncle could pick him up. Odds are, they hadn't even driven   \nto the airport because he still occasionally calls his folks back home and it   \nseems that the aunt and uncle call now and again as well, claiming that he and   \nNezzy are living with them, an illusion they're all too happy to support so   \ntheir folks won't worry.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; That stuff don't matter, though. What matters is, he's a hot, hot, HOT little   \nnumber. He turned to hustling when he got here, claiming he'd already slept with   \na couple of guys for money back home. He's a smart kid, Alice. He's the only   \nhustler I know, of any age, who saves money in the bank. Because he's so young   \nhe can charge more than a hundred bucks a ride, so now and again when he has a   \n'big' client to sleep with, he'll rent my services for a few hours beforehand to   \nwarm him up. The poor little tyke's so tight he sometimes still cries when he   \ngets fucked, so when he thinks it's going to be particularly hard he'll call me   \nup and I'll drop by his pad, a tiny room in the attic of a really sweet elderly   \ncouple and I'll spend a half-hour easing into him, just making out and having a   \ngood time, and fuck him for another ten minutes before pulling out and giving   \nhim a ride to his John.   \n  \nI asked him why he hired me, cutting a fifth out of his earnings when he could   \njust use a dildo instead, and I tell ya, my heart melted when he looked at me   \nwith those pretty eyes and that beautiful smile and told me that he liked having   \nthe memory of me on top of him, so he could carry that over and pretend I was   \nmounting him instead of the John he was servicing. It made him more   \nenthusiastic, which the Johns obviously appreciated. For his birthday I gave him   \na ride that lasted all afternoon, for free, and I came in him twice. Until then,   \nI don't think I'd ever shot a load in that pretty kitty. You should have seen   \nhis face when he felt me shooting in him, he hugged me so hard...   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I digress. So yeah, Alice is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from   \nthat businesstud, I think his name's Ferrum, or maybe that's just his last name.   \nRight in the middle of that spectrum, though, is my buddy Malloy. He never   \nbottoms and he never asks me to cum, so I never do. I never give him feebies,   \neither. It's just sex for sex' sake, you know? The way straight teenagers'll   \njerk each other off. But I love it. It's because he's the odd kind of selfish,   \nin the sack. Most guys are selfish because all they care about is feeling good,   \nfeeling better than their sub.   \n  \nNot Malloy. He's selfish because he knows whoever's under him is there because   \nhe likes submitting. He's got enough of an ego that anybody looking for respect   \nfrom him will turn away in disgust, so by the time somebody accepts Malloy's   \nbeautiful black cock under their tail they like feeling like a bitch. And he   \nrespects that. Not by being considerate, and not by being civil, but by   \naccepting what the sub's willing to give and making use of it, making use of   \nthem. When he wants to have sex with me he puts money on the table and tells me   \nwhat he wants from me, makes me do what he thinks he'll most enjoy because he   \nunderstands that it's important for me that he feels good. It's important for me   \nbecause I'm a pro and it's important for the boys he beds because making a guy   \nlike him feel good makes them feel desired, makes them feel sexy and gives them   \nsome semblance of self-value that'll keep their chin up when they have to go   \nback to school and to the torments of the jocks the next day.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; And as I'm thinking of all this, I've made my way over to the bed. It's in the   \nmiddle of the apartment - what Malloy calls a 'flat' - since the place is   \nbasically a studio with a bathroom separate, always looking like it's just   \nrecently seen some sex. As it does now. I sniff the black satin sheets as I   \nclimb onto the double bed and roll over, trying to scent who it was Malloy   \nbedded. Young and feline - maybe Alice? No, older than that.   \n  \nMy sense of smell is still off, especially as I find myself catching scent of   \nMalloy's semen...  \n  \n  \n  \nI'm back in his 'flat', back on that night a few weeks ago. I can see myself   \nstanding up from the couch, accepting three tenners from Malloy and putting them   \non the table. I roll off the bed and take a seat in a chair as I watch the   \nghostly vision of myself climb on the bed on all fours, tail flagged high before   \nhe rolls onto his back in a coy posture, stroking his chest, rubbing one foot   \nover the inside of his other thigh.   \n  \nMalloy, fully clothed, climbs predatorially up on the bed and slinks between my   \nghost-self's thighs, pressing that impossibly hard body down on top of him and   \nmock-humping him between the legs before he climbs further, humping his groin my   \nother self's belly, then his chest, his chin and finally... My other self's hands   \ncome up and grabs Malloy's balls in one hand and his swelling sheath in the   \nother. I can't hear it, but I know it's happening. From where I'm sitting I can   \nsee Malloy's back, my ghost-self's face hidden, although I can see the   \ndobermann's muscles tensing and I can see my other self's ears bouncing as he   \nbobs his head, so there's obviously some quality fellatio going on.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Personally, I always find it hotter, in porn and in life, to watch a blowjob   \nwithout seeing the dick going in the mouth, but to see everything else,   \npreferably the facial expressions of both. It's so much more suggestive, really   \nlets you focus on what these guys are feeling rather than what you're doing.   \nThis is a little bit of a problem because the urge to get hard is quite strong,   \nand I have the distinct feeling that if I start to pop a tent my dick-cage is   \ngoing to get really uncomfortable, and I've had quite enough pain down there for   \none day, thank you very much.  \n  \nMalloy's whispering something that I can't hear. He's a talker, that dog, always   \nchatting during sex. In that regard, he's a lot like that Ferrum stud in his   \nexpensive Armani suits who always insists on discussing what I'm feeling when he   \nputs me through my humiliations. Malloy's powerful muscles move under his fur   \nand my other self splays out comfortably on the bed as they both enjoy a nice,   \nslow muzzlefuck.  \n  \n  \n  \nAnd then I hear a noise from downstairs and the vision's gone. It sounds like   \nsomeone forced open the door, I can hear the little jingly bell bouncing over   \nthe floor. In a shot I'm out the door, leaving it open behind me. I don't think   \nabout the fact that I'm naked and wet with an open bathrobe streaming behind me   \nlike a cape, I don't think about grabbing a knife from the kitchen-unit to use   \nas a weapon, all I think about is that somebody might hurt Anezka and that I'm   \ngoing to fucking kill them if they fucking try.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"No, I don't know any Owen, so you can just fuck off,\" is what I hear Anezka say   \nwhen I burst in the office door and see her standing at the counter in front of   \nthe bullet-proof window, locking eyes with the big, brutal bull standing on the   \nother side of the glass with a fierce-looking shotgun in his hands. She hears me   \ncome in and her shoulders sag. I really shouldn't have come down, I realise.   \n\"Although, now that you mention it,\" Anezka continues, covering her face with   \nher palms because I came in and blew her denial, \"Yes, yes, I think it's coming   \nback to me now. Owen, you say? Sexy, twenty-something hustler wolf. Yes, I know   \nhim. Ah, there you are, Owen. This gentleman was looking for you.\"  \n  \n\"You,\" growls the bull, his voice sounding tinny and hollow of all but his   \nmalice as it blares from the intercom's speaker. \"Come with me and no funny   \nstuff, got it?\"  \n  \nAnezka looks at me scornfully and my tail droops, more at the thought of having   \ndisappointed her than whatever it is this bull has in store for me. \"I don't   \nsuppose I can get my clothes first?\" I ask, gesturing at the thin grey bathrobe   \nI'm wearing, which I thoughtfully tie closed. \"It's mighty chilly out there, and   \nI just took a shower.\" The bull simply taps the top of his wrist with the muzzle   \nof his shotgun as if to indicate his watch. \"Guess not.\" I walk over to the   \nvault-door that separates the pawn shop from the office and all of a sudden it's   \nlike the lights go out and there's a blinding, lightning-strike pain that shoots   \nthrough Li'l Owen.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; When it's over, I'm backed up against the wall, both hands in my robe, hugging   \nmy groin and Nezzy's hand. \"You zapped me with that thumb pad!\" I yell at her,   \nwanting to add 'bitch' or something, but I know that if I do she'll zap me   \nagain. Looks like I'm not the only one, though, since it seems that the lights   \ndid indeed go out and are now flickering on and off while the office is filled   \nwith a tinny, metallic arcing noise. I let go of her hands and with the sweetest   \nsmile you've ever seen on a lioness she traipses back to the window, reaches   \nunder the counter, flicks a switch... The lights go back on, the arcing noise   \nstops, there's a thump and when Nezzy turns the wheel that locks the   \nvault-door's bolts it opens inward and the bull's unconscious body spills into   \nthe office.  \n  \nWith some considerable effort, she and I manage to drag him through the door and   \ninto the hallway, past the bathroom, thumpety-thump him down the stairs to the   \nbasement and finally we clap his wrists in some industrial-strength manacles   \nthat Nezzy just happens to have lying around, as she puts it. Attaching the   \nmanacles to a thick steel cable, we use an overhanging winch as, well, a winch   \nand suspend our bull upright, with his hooves an inch above the ground. Nezzy   \ngoes and secures the chain's end to one of the thick water-pipes jutting out of   \nthe basemen's spare concrete wall while I wrap some more chains around the   \nbull's ankles and tie them firmly together.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Just then, I feel him twitch and then grow calm, but from the change in   \nbreathing I gather that he's just woken up, pretending now to still be asleep.   \nHe thinks he's being smart, the stupid lug. \"Hey, Nezzy,\" I say, flashing her a   \nwink before I turn my attention back to the bull, dressed in a black bomber   \njacket, a Maranatha Marmots' t-shirt and rough, faded jeans. \"How do you wanna   \ndeal with this dude?\"  \n  \nNezzy gets the idea, but like she does with sex, she takes it way, way too far.   \n\"Power tools, I think. Start with sawing his horns off to make sure he knows we   \nmean business, then crack open a book on abattoirs and see how you can best   \nslaughter oxen.\" My jaw agape, I shiver at the sheer brutality of that beautiful   \nyoung lioness' mind. So does the bull. \"Ah, so you are awake. What's your name,   \nbull-boy?\" she asks, swaying her hips as she walks back over to him, seductive   \nas the night itself.   \n  \n\"That's none of your fucking business, missy,\" the bull slurs, his muscles   \nclearly weak from the jolt they received when Anezka electrified the vault-door   \nand electrocuted the bull who was turning the latch at the same time. \"Now stop   \nbeing silly and get me down from here. I'll take your friend with me and I won't   \nsay this happened.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I try to offer a retort, but Nezzy's ahead of me. \"You won't say this happened   \nat all, will you. After all, you don't want all your friends to know you were   \nbeat by a girl, do you? I think I'll call you...\" Anezka strokes his chest,   \nrunning her hands along the ridges of the studbull's truly gargantuan muscles,   \nslowly sliding her hands down. \"I'll call you Beef. Would you like me to suck   \nyour dick, Beef?\" she asks him, stroking his chin with one hand and tugging his   \nzipper down with the other.  \n  \nThe question catches the bull off guard. I'm standing there, slack-jawed,   \nimpressed beyond all reason by Anezka's display. \"Uh, sure,\" the bull stammers,   \nclearly unable to mix his commitment to his orders with his desire for the   \nsexual favours this gorgeous young lioness seems to be so freely offering. She   \npulls his zipper down fully, the bull's underpants spilling out in a tent masted   \nby a cock that's thin in relation to the bull's body, but no less impressive for   \nit.  \n  \n\"Owen,\" Nezzy says and the bull snorts, going wide-eyed. \"Beef wants a blowjob.   \nSuck him, would you?\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Both of us look at her, wondering if she's serious. She gives a nod and,   \nhesitantly, I slip to my knees, careful to pad my knees with Malloy's bathrobe   \nand start to unfasten the buttons of the bull's bulging boxers. He snorts and   \ntrumpets, tugging at his bindings in protest. \"Hey! You get that faggot away   \nfrom me!\" he yells, and I get where Nezzy's going, now. Leave it to her to   \nfigure out a way to make a guy not want to get some head. The bull's dick   \nsprings out of the fly of his boxers, thin like most bovines, glistening with   \npreseed. Before I give myself time to think about it, I take it in my mouth and   \nstart giving a nice, quick blowjob to a guy who came looking for me with a   \nshotgun.  \n  \n\"Now, don't you drop a load, Beef... That'd make you queer. You don't wanna be   \nqueer, do you?\" she asks as she strokes his cheek with one hand, raking the   \nother hand's fingers through my hair. \"You want to blow your load in a girl,   \nwhere it belongs. Maybe I should let you shoot in my pussy? Would you like that,   \nBeef?\" Her voice is so sweet, so calm, so girlish and the only other sounds in   \nthe room are the bull's hot grunting and my loud slurping.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Giving head to guys who might want to kill me is one of my least favourite   \nsexual acts. It's something mister Ferrum might order me to do, seriously fucked   \nup. But I can give a blowjob with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my   \nback (in fact, I've done just that on more than a few occasions) so I have no   \ntrouble giving this Beef a perfunctory suck-off.  \n  \n\"All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and I'll have Owen spit your   \ndick into my mouth. He'll go away, you'll get a ride and I'll let you free,   \neverybody wins. So what's your name, who do you work for, and why do you want   \nOwen?\" The bull doesn't respond, his massive body quite tense by now, starting   \nto sweat. The chains jangle loudly. \"Ooh, close to cumming, are you? Ease up,   \nsweetheart,\" she says to me in an almost mothering tone and pushes my head right   \nthe way down, forcing me to take this guy's cock down my throat and keep it   \nthere, my nose stuffed in his open fly. \"Come on. Tell me what I want to know.\"  \n  \nThe bull blinks a few times, furrowing his brow. \"And... and you'll... I can fuck   \nyou if I tell you? You'll let me do that, no rubbers?\" he asks, still doubtful.   \nAt least he's considering the offer, though. Damn, Nezzy's good. I just wish her   \nplan didn't involve me snorting breaths from this bull's pubic hair. Anezka nods   \nand the bull relents, at which point Nezzy releases her grip on my head and I   \nstart bobbing again, slower this time, to keep the bull on the edge without   \nrisking to send him over it. \"Quincy... Quincy's my name... Please, get him to   \nstop,\" the bull pleads with his low, crude voice but Nezzy, smiling, shakes her   \nhead and nudges my shoulder. I start pumping my muzzle faster, threatening to   \npull him over the edge. I've got a good reputation for this sort of thing, my   \nFive Minute Blowjob is a popular favourite among the lunch-hour crowd.   \n\"Sharpish!\" he yells and I freeze in mid-suck, looking up at the towering bull   \nas he yells that name. \"I don't know why, I swear it, but he told me to get this   \nhustler wolf back.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Back?\" I try to say, but when you've got half a bull's dick in your mouth words   \ntend to come out funny. Anezka nudges me again and I get back to work as she   \ninterprets for me. \"What do you mean by 'back', Quincy?\" She pulls off her tube   \ntop, exposing the firm, supple swell of her golden-furred breasts, stroking her   \nhands down her flat belly. \"Come on, Quincy... Tell me what's going on and I won't   \nmake you blow your load in a faggot's mouth, and let you squirt in a nice, tight   \npussy... Did I mention I'm only sixteen?\"  \n  \nThe bull's eyes almost pop out and he rubs his knees together, groaning deeply.   \nHis heavy, dangling balls draw up against his chin - this guy's ready to pop.   \n\"He was over at Sharpish's place a last night, some kind of deal! Sharpish was   \ngoing to pay him a lot of money, but then he ran away and he sent all of us out   \nto find him!\"  \n  \n\"How many did he send? Who are they?\" Nezzy yells, but then the bull convulses,   \nyelling panicked obscenities, he heaves and my mouth is flooded with a gush of   \nwarm, watery semen that dribbles out and down my chin almost immediately because   \nthere's so fucking much of it. instinctively I try to swallow, but then I   \nremember who it is I'm blowing and, disgusted, I spit out my mouthful of dick   \nand sperm and roll away to avoid the long, hard squirts of semen, spitting on   \nthe floor. The bull, exhausted from the torment Anezka visited on him and   \nthoroughly confused about what just happened, passes out, swinging back and   \nforth on his chains, shrinking cock still spurting.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I stand up, wipe my lips and walk around the back of the bull, heading over to   \nAnezka. She pulls her top back on and grins triumphantly. \"That went well.   \nSharpish works for McIlwain, right? He'd have the stones to get something like   \nyour dick-cage made, or imported, or something. Getting him to unlock it is   \ndifferent, though.\"  \n  \n\"Nezzy, where the fuck did you learn to do that?\"  \n  \nShe shrugs, scratching her round, tufted ear and smiles that deadly smile of   \nhers. \"School,\" she answers simply.   \n  \n\"I don't even want to know. Will he be all right tied up down here?\" I ask,   \nrubbing myself warm under the bathrobe. \"I need to put on some clothes.\" Anezka   \nnods and licks her lips and I have the sneaking suspicion she'll be taking   \nadvantage of this poor, hapless thug, so I leave her two it and run up the two   \nflights of stairs and back into Owen's pad.  \n  \nThank gods the door didn't fall closed when I left. I pull the leather pants on   \nand man does it feel fine. The insides lined with something that keeps your fur   \nfrom rubbing up the wrong way, which is just too fucking awesome, and the beauty   \nqueen in me thrills at the thought of how well the seat cups my fine, firm ass.   \nI spend a moment just appreciating it, running my hands over the taut, smooth,   \nwarm-to-the-touch black leather. I'm kinda jealous of Malloy, for getting to   \nfuck a piece of tail as sweet as this. I don't know anybody who comes even close   \nto having as fine a behind as me - okay, so Alice comes real close, a though   \nwhich causes unnecessary discomfort in the cage on my dick, so I stop thinking   \nabout that and open Malloy's closet to fish out the least expensive-looking item   \nof clothing, a thick grey tank top with a stripe across the chest at   \nnipple-height. Nice. Shaking out my hair, appreciating the quality of the   \nconditioners that Malloy has in his shower despite the fact that his own fur's   \nso short, I tug on the leather jacket and an old pair of Malloy's boots (another   \nperfect fit) and just as I'm about to walk out the door, the phone rings.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; It might be Malloy, or it might be any number of acquaintances we share. I pick   \nit up one-handed, the other arm thrusting into my new jacket. \"Malloy   \nresidence,\" I sing-song, feeling kind of stupid when I do it.  \n  \n\"Owen? Is that you?\" a soft young voice asks, heavy breathing sounding like   \nstatic over the phone line. \"Owen, you must help me, they've got-\" I can hear   \nthe thick accent and my heart skips a beat, but before I can say anything I hear   \na shout over the other side of the phone. \"Jezismaria, they found me, please,   \nOwen-\"  \n  \nAnd then the line goes dead and I feel cold again. That sweet voice had sounded   \nso panicked, so hopeful and fearful at once. The caller ID screen shows no   \nnumber and I have to stop myself from ripping the fucking phone off the wall and   \nthrowing it out the window. I lean against the sink for a few seconds, clutching   \nmy stomach. I feel a little sick. More than a little. I zip up my jacket,   \nstraighten myself up, take a deep breath and walk out of Malloy's apartment,   \nslamming the door behind me. As I walk down the stairs I can hear the muffled   \nsounds of the bull's lowing and Anezka's mad cackle and I figure she's got   \neverything under control, so I walk out the office, close the vault door and   \nbump into Malloy as I exit the shop.   \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; His car's parked on the curb, which means he's in a hurry. He's mighty   \nprotective of his busted up old 'vette, which he swears he'll get fixed up as   \nand when he's got the money. He started from the inside out and got the engine   \nblock replaced six months ago and now he's saving up for a fresh set of paint.   \n\"Owen, mate - great threads, really suit you - I went to the Dive, and you've   \ngotta hear this-\" Without meaning to I let out a snarl and give the dobermann a   \nhard shove in the chest, sending him staggering back against the door of his   \ncar. \"What the fuck?\" he asks, canting his head at me, halfway between confusion   \nand anger.  \n  \n\"I don't care about the fucking Dive, shithead. Alice is in trouble.\" I want to   \nhit him. I want to hit the old lady walking along the other side of the road. I   \nwant to pick up something heavy and smash Malloy's fucking car and then I want   \nto find whoever it was that harmed a hair in Alice's mane and do everything all   \nover to them. \"He called your phone and asked for help but the line went dead   \nand there was no caller ID...\" I rub my eyes with one hand, holding my stomach   \nwith the other and look up to see Malloy staring at me with fire in his eyes.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Owen, mate, I love you like a brother but if you're yanking my chain I'll break   \nyour fucking legs...\" I avert my eyes, and shake my head. This is no joke.   \nMalloy's hands squeeze into fists and I can see he wants to hurt me or anyone as   \nmuch as I do right now. He raises his hand as if he's about to smash his car's   \nwindshield but manages to stop himself and walks around the hood. \"Get in,\" he   \nsays, starts the engine and guns it the second my door slams shut.   \n  \n\"Where are we going?\" I ask him, pulling on my safety belt. I usually complain   \nabout his mad driving style, but now, while he's driving double the speed limit   \ninside the city and still accelerating down the road, dodging the sparse   \ntwo-lane traffic with lazy ease, I can't bring myself to care.  \n  \nMalloy's eyes are focused straight ahead, all his ego, all his arrogance drained   \nfrom his face leaving a sallow desperation as painful as my own. \"Ritz. At the   \nDive, the barkeep remembered seeing you head off with a big stallion in an   \nexpensive suit and when I asked if they'd seen anything else out of the ordinary   \nhe said that Alice went home with some ferret in a trench-coat.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I snarl and punch the dashboard. \"Sharpish. Aleš knows better than to trade with   \nthat low-life... So why are we going to the Ritz?\"  \n  \n\"After I fixed you up with some pax at the Dong-Ma eatery, turns out, Sharpish   \nand his fellas walked in and shooed out all their customers, even told the   \nowners to fuck off. But the last thing they remembered seeing is a horse in a   \nsuit and a red tie coming out of a limo parked at the corner of the shop-\" I   \ngrab the steering-wheel and give it a sharp yank, the car screeches and shudders   \nand turns to the right while it continues with its momentum and I let go just as   \nwe start heading down a side road, with the sound of horns and screeching tyres   \nbehind us. \"What the fuck?!\" he yells, trying to keep the car under control.  \n  \nIt's a miracle there's no police sirens coming after us. \"I know the horse   \nyou're talking about. He takes me to a room at the Ritz whenever he calls me,   \nbut after he's done with me, he leaves. He lives in his offices, far as I know.   \nSo we should head to the Sargasso building. I know the code for the service   \nentrance. Once we're inside I'll get inside, 'distract' the guard and you can   \nslip in.\" Malloy grins at me and I have to admit, I get the joke, even in our   \nstressed-out state of mind. \"Into the building, stupidhead. Try to be   \ninconspicuous and I'll meet you on the sixteenth floor.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The rest of the drive is quiet. Both of us have only one thing on our mind:   \nAleš, in trouble, somewhere. I don't want to imagine what's happening to him.   \nEven if he's just being kept in a room, he must be so scared. Those fuckers are   \ngoing to pay... I look over at Malloy every now and again, who's focusing on   \nkeeping us on the road, getting to Sargasso Holdings as quickly as possible, and   \nI can't be certain, but his eyes look a little bloodshot and a little watery.  \n  \n\"Unbutton your shirt and look sexy,\" I whisper to Malloy as we turn the corner   \nto the service parking garage of the massive, gleaming Sargasso building. I   \nunzip my jacket and use the rear-view mirror to check my hair, getting it nice   \nand loose. Malloy stops at the entrance checkpoint and rolls down the window as   \nthe guard in the booth, a bored-looking panther, speaks into his microphone.   \n\"Entry code?\"  \n  \nMalloy shoots me a worried glance, but I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean against   \nhim, sliding my arm around his broad shoulders. The guard seems to notice this   \nfrom the corner of his eye and I see him straighten up as I press my cheek to   \nMalloy's, running my hand up the inside of his thigh, over his groin and onto   \nthe bare, hard abdomen visible between the open flaps of his shirt.   \n\"Entertainment for mister Tiber Ferrum,\" I announce and Malloy joins me in   \npresenting the guard with a pair of slutty, pretty-boy smiles. I always thought   \nMalloy would make a damn hot sub if he wasn't such a top-man...  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The guard waves us through and presses the buzzer, which drops the barricade and   \nraises the beam at the entrance of the underground garage. We drive down and   \nwhen we park, I notice how dreadfully out of place the Corvette looks among the   \ncheap, boxy Hondas and Hyundais that clutter up the service garage. \"I thought   \nyou were going to blow the guard while I... slipped in?\" Malloy says as we slam   \nthe car doors shut and I lead the way to the elevator.  \n  \n\"This plan just came to me, man. Figured it'd be faster, and we don't got much   \ntime,\" I reply. I can't bring myself to laughing, as much as I'd love to lighten   \nthe mood. The elevator arrives, spare and small, serviceable enough for the   \njanitors and waiters that make use of this garage, leaving the larger one for   \nguests and employees.  \n  \n\"Good plan,\" says Malloy and steps into the elevator with me, pressing the   \nbutton for the sixteenth floor. \"So, what are we expecting up there?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n_To be continued._\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n**Available on paperback in 2005**\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n[  \nMail the author](%5C) for information   \nor [  \njoin the mailing list](%5C)!\n\n\u0026nbsp;  \n  \n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Maranatha","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/4096-maranatha-i-as-told-by-owen-zelazny.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/4098-maranatha-chapter-iii-as-told-by-owen-zelazny.json"}}