FlashFill Friday: Herakles and the Cyprian Centaur

FlashFill Friday: Herakles and the Cyprian Centaur
Hercules by Boris Vallejo, copyright 2022

Flashfill Friday is a lovely concept I adopted from the kink memes of old. This is how it works:

  1. You remain anonymous unless you specifically ask me for a shout out.
  2. You send me a story request on Patreon, either via DM or simply by commenting on the Flash Fic Requests post. This can be anything from just a kink to a specific pairing with multiple kinks and a plot outline.
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  5. Please note this is an erotica blog, so the request needs to include at least 1 kink and the result will also be erotic writing.

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Herakles and the Cyprian Centaur
M/M, mild consent issues

On his way to retrieve the Girdle of Hippolyta from the Queen of the Amazons, Herakles came upon the island of Cyprus, where golden Aphrodite first set foot from the sea that birthed her.

The Centaur Himerios received the hero with all the generosity and cordiality a guest deserves. As they sat together with a jar of wine, a gift of blooming Dionysos himself, their wits grew duller and their talk grew bolder.

"Once," great Herakles claimed, "I outran the Ceryneian Hind, a sacred beast of Artemis with golden antlers like a stag and hooves of bronze. Not even an arrow in flight is faster than this doe!"

"You're telling me," Himerios giggled, "that you, on your sorry two feet, are faster than a four-legged hind?"

"I'm telling you!"

They laughed heartily.

"It seems to me," Himerios said, "that your mouth makes promises your legs can't keep."

"Are you calling me a braggart?"

"No. But you could never outrun me, that's for sure."

"Care to make a wager on that?"

The centaur raised his eyebrows.

"Go on."

"We'll race two stadia. The loser has to get another jar of wine from Dionysos and pour it to the winner."

"Two stadia are a joke. Let's race 60 stadia and the winner gets to choose what to do with the loser."

"Sounds fine to me!" Herakles boasted and they shook hands.

It was only in the morning that the hero realised what he had gotten himself into. He was strong, but he was not a runner. Wrestling and fist fighting wouldn't have been a problem, he'd best the centaur and any man or demi-god in those disciplines. Racing was another matter. The distance of 60 stadia had seemed trivial yesterday night, but they were quite the challenge this morning, sober and hung-over. But Herakles was no one to take back his word. For better or worse.

~~~

They started in front of Himerios' house and would race along the coastline until they reached the hut of a fisherman. The race would stop where it had started. Herakles took a deep breath. If he summoned all his strength, if he ran like swift Hermes, unfailing like the arrows of Apollon, maybe, just maybe he could gain a close victory.

"I certainly know what I'll do with you if I win." The centaur took in the hero's naked form, the strong arms, the wide chest, the massive stature.

"And what is that, my friend?"

"A sacrifice to Aphrodite."

Herakles laughed amiably, but in his mind unknown fear seized him. A sacrifice to Aphrodite could mean many things. This was her island and her power was strong. Not even his father Zeus was immune to the capricious will of the goddess.

The race began. The centaur started with a trot, but Herakles outran him easily until the horse-man sped up to a gallop, leaving his opponent behind in a cloud of dust. Herakles wasn't idle either and thundered over the earth, the divine strength in his legs and feet launching him off the ground with exceptional vigour. He admired the muscles moving underneath the shiny fur of the centaur, a magnificent rival for sure!

They passed the fisherman's hut and Herakles could gain some ground with a tight turn around the building that the horse body of Himerios was unable to emulate. The son of Zeus ran as if legions of amazons were right behind him, the finish line in sight. The thought of what he might do as the victor had just crossed his mind when the centaur got ahead of him, and it was then that mighty Herakles knew he had lost.

He came in a close second, but he lost.

"You are a worthy opponent." Himerios said, obvioulsy impressed with the demi-god. "In my pride, I thought it would be an easy victory."

"Easy or not, a victory nonetheless. Honour to whom honour is due."

"Let's drink to that! And I'll pour sweet Aphrodite a libation, who so generously granted me to come in as the winner."

Herakles hoped the libation would be the only sacrifice that day. But of course, things were never quite as easy for the hero.

~~~

"Hail, goddess, queen of well-builded Cyprus! Gold-crowned and beautiful you granted that I gain the victory in this contest, and to you my cup is raised. And now I will remember you and another song also."

While they shared the wine, Herakles couldn't stop thinking about the price he was about to pay. He had a pretty good idea by now what the centaur had in mind. It would be a humiliation unlike anything he had ever experienced. Taken by a beast, half-man, half-horse, degraded to the place of a woman! But there was something else. He would never admit it, but Herakles had fucked men and women equally, yet always in the same position, active and manly. If nothing else, this would be a new experience, a side of sexual joys he would otherwise never submit to.

"So, are you ready to spread your beautiful buttocks, glorious son of Zeus?"

"Let's get it over with."

Herakles downed his cup of wine in one mighty swallow and slammed it heavily upon the table.

"Tell me, hero of heroes: have you ever had a horse cock?" Himerios grinned a joyful grin.

"No."

"Then I will be delighted to be your first."

Herakles watched the centaur unsheath his mighty membrum virile. He was a big man, but still the size caused a shiver running down his spine. It was not entirely out of terror.

"Bend over, will you?"

The demi-god complied, leaning onto one of the tables for support. Himerios took the jar of olive oil from among the delicacies and poured a gush over Herakles' exposed behind, working the slick liquid into the skin between his muscular cheeks.

"Can you help me? I can't reach myself very well..."

The centaur gestured towards his cock, which had now assumed its proper length the size of a cubit (ca. 46 cm / 18.20 in). Herakles ducked beneath the horse belly of his host and started to rub the oil onto the long shaft. His large hands were able to cover the entire girth, unmistakably giving pleasure to the beastlike man.

"Hm... Ah! Careful - I don't want to spill before we even begin. ...Or maybe I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever fellated someone before?"

"No."

"Then let us see how well this goes. Please, make me come with your mouth."

"By Hermes, you are pushing your luck!"

"I won without cheating. Please be a graceful loser and give me my prize."

Herakles gnashed his teeth, but he got on his knees and gently guided the crown past his lips. It was shaped differently from a human glans, very flat and wide instead of the handy round head he was used to.

On some level, Herakles could understand Himerios' wish. He had been fellated countless times and if he should ever find himself without a willing partner, he could get it for a small price. It wasn't so easy for a centaur. Other centaurs would have difficulties to get at the member with their mouths and most humans were too small to accommodate even the tip. Herakles was exceedingly tall, but still it wasn't easy to get the whole crown inside.

"Ahhhh..."

Herakles felt like a cheap pornē, but this man had bested him, so he deserved the best he could do! He slid his tongue across the flat, round disc with strong, determined licks. The centaur gasped, gently pushing his cock further into the hero's mouth until he was stopped by the pharynx. Herakles gagged slightly. He could feel Himerios' excitement and the rush of blood that made his crown flare. Any other man would have had his jaw broken. Not Herakles. As there was no space for any movements of his tongue, he clasped the thick shaft to keep it safely in place and got to work on the beautiful piece. A salty taste dispersed in his mouth and he realised it was probably the centaur's pre-cum. A blush graced the hero's cheeks as he bobbed his head, pleasing his friend best he could. The shaft pulsed in his large hands and Herakles could feel the centaur's heartbeat through the protruding veins. Himerios started thrusting wildly and it took all of Herakles' immense strength to keep him from accidentally choking him. A gush of semen filled his mouth, accompanied by a loud groan and he swallowed hard. It was the only thing he could do not to suffocate.

Thankfully, the enormous horse cock started shrinking right away, with come still dripping out. Herakles let it slide out and cleaned his face with the table cloth. Himerios was still breathing hard, looking at his guest with a blissful grin.

"You may not be a god, Herakles, but you sure suck like one!"

"If I do something, I do it right."

Himerios smiled.

"Thank you." he said sincerely. "You will always have a home on Cyprus. And a lover's embrace, if you so wish."

"You honour me, dear Himerios. I will need my strength for Hippolyta, but I may drop anchor here once more upon my return. Until then, farewell dear friend."

They kissed each other goodbye and Herakles felt strange when he boarded his ship. If his lovers felt equally overwhelmed when he fucked their mouths? Well, if he knew one thing, Himerios would be able to take it!

THE END

Author's Notes

Cyprian centaurs were sired by Zeus when Aphrodite escaped him after she first arrived on the island of Cyprus. His seed fell to the earth, Gaia, and thus the Cyprian centaurs were conceived. The Cyprian centaurs were bull-horned fertility-spirits and attendants of Aphrodite.

Chariot races were added to the Olympic Games in 680 BCE, over a distance of approximately 13 km / 8 miles. A schoinos or 60 stadia are about the same distance.

A pornē is a type of prostitute in ancient Greece. They can be of either sex and provide affordable sex to the inclined customer.

Oral sex was regarded as degrading in ancient Greece, only to be performed by slaves or prostitutes. Definitely not by shining, manly heroes.


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