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“One more!"

Wine jar after wine jar pilled on the dirty counter, the syrupy beverage drained out of them by the force of habits and frustration. What else could be done by the habitues but to gulp that terrible piquette and hope for Dionysus not to smite you on the instant?

That's what most of the clients of that dive were doing. Only the most wretched, despicable, lowly bums dared to have a turn in that place reeking of piss-poor alcohol. At the same time, it was difficult to find that bar as it was nestled in the lowest streets of Athens, where rungs would huddle together.

And that was precisely why the Satyr was hanging around, glancing at the one-eyed human.

“Woah! 'Heard what I say? One more!" he shouted, his brown brows frowning as the human glanced back with no polish jar in hand despite the collection behind him.

“Fuck off, Phil. Pick up your tab first!" said the barman before he turned to another customer, another human, to hand him a jar. That guy was messing around.

“My tab? My tab? Do you know who I am? I am the great Philoctetes, and I'm rich! Fucking rich! Because what? Because I trained the legendary-“

“HERCULES! We know!" shouted back the clientele, from the bum sitting in a corner to the card players to the drunkards sticking to the counter. Everyone, whether awake or not, shouted in unison.

“Yes! So honor the great Phil with another jar!"

“You're broke! Get home!"

“Fucking get a bath!"

“Stop shouting!"

The shouts returned like stones thrown at the Satyr, who shrank on his stool. He grumbled, groaned, crossed his arms, and frowned some more. It would have been different if it had been a few years ago. Monsters there, brigands on that way, cut-throats around.

But no, nobody paid respect to the old Satyr.

“Get him what he wants. I pay."

The husky voice presided over and cut the recriminations, leading the whole dive to share a sigh of frustration. Nonetheless, the wine jar, the apple of his eyes, slid before the squat and pot-bellied Satyr, who uncorked it and took a chug.

A delicious chug after five minutes of being parched. One that merited some gratitude.

“Thank you, Str"

Phil's words were strangled, crushed in his throat the same way he felt the air escape his lungs. Nobody hit him. But the realization did as he stood by an immense Centaur whose light-blue skin and black coat were recognizable among many. That and the man's sizeable forehead, tiny reddish nose, elongated chin, and largish lips.

Nessus. The one who led Phil to this situation by all chance and circumstance.

Long ago, Nessus had been one of the many threats Phil and his most prominent Protegee had dealt with. The story would say the fight between Hercules and the Centaur had been glorious, with hours of struggles. The truth is... It was way different. And Nessus had been a thorn in everyone's sides ever since Hercules and her lady had been together.

Hence, Phil brought the jar to his lips and almost spoke to it while mouthing: “Thank you, Horse."

A proper acknowledgment completed by Nessus' massive hands setting aside the stools so he could sit, legs beneath his equine body, beside the Satyr.

“Two legs, a jar for me too. Same things as the Satyr!"

The barman took the beverage and slid it on the counter while he returned to the habitues, who tried their best to resume their conversations though eyeing the rambuctious centaur.

To Phil, that wasn't the best situation. How could he enjoy the sweet sweetest toilet wine with a centaur reeking the horse beside him? Well, by imagining he was around Nymphs and other beautiful ladies who knew how to please a Satyr and-

“No new apprentice?" groaned the Centaur at Phil's side. That was awkward.

“No. I am considering retiring: none are of the same fabric as heroes."

“As Hercules?" replied Nessus, snapping his fingers as another jar came.

That was definitely awkward.

“What? Wanna fight about the boy?" asked Phil, putting the drink aside and turning, fists clenched. Hooves on the stool; he was ready for a last stance if that big guy dared to mess with him. He was ready. “Don't think you'll win! I'm an expert in martial arts!"

“Calm down. I'm here to relax. And to say sorry," replied Nessus, stretching his neck while he uncorked his second jar and emptied it.

“What? Sorry?" asked Phil, raising his brows but lowering his fists.

“Yes. I see a shrink at the temple of Athena. She told me I should be a good centaur and try to amend for my past mistakes," said the guy, visibly… Ashamed.

It was so different from the first time they met, or even the few times Hercules beat that horse ass into another country.

“Wait? A shrink? Sorry? Oh boy, what is coming through you? Now, you gonna tell me the Nemean Lion has a headache?" chuckled Phil, sitting on his stool with his little tail wagging. “Wanna explain?"

“Okay, but you don't mock me. See, that priestess of Athena is helping me deal with my anger and insecurities, as she says. She helped me deal with all my frustration after our last fights and supports me in bettering my attitude."

“Woah! Woah! A priestess? Nessus, you're not-“

“No!" cut the Centaur, almost breaking his jar against the counter as he turned to the Satyr, his brows lowered like two angry arrows.

As expected, Phil had shrunk on his stool and only peeped a “Squeak" before the Centaur's grip relaxed, and he sighed: “She's a professional. Our relationship is between a therapist and her client. Nothing more. She's good; you should see her."

“Heh… One day," squeaked Phil again, hitting his chest to make his heart start anew after a near cardiac arrest. “I doubt she can deal with my issues."

The Centaur raised an eyebrow at the Satyr, licking his lips with an air of curiosity. For a moment, he held the posture until Phil cracked and grumbled, beginning his listing by counting on his fingers with his right hand.

“Fine. The Hercule store isn't doing great. The kid hasn't sent me any messages since he joined Papa Zeus. The Nymphs are ghosting me. And have you heard of Deontoleus or Kallipugos?"

“No?"

“That's right! Nobody heard of them!" shouted Phil, throwing his hands up in frustration. Red in the face, he paced in a circle on the stool, his hooves hitting the wood.

“They died like idiots after they forgot the lesson 13 and 67! I spent years trying to make them look good, to prepare them after Hercules! But no! They had to run head-first into a trap."

The Centaur watched, bringing the jar to his lip: “Sounds like you need a break."

“Underworld, yes! But Papa Zeus hasn't rewarded me yet. Royalties are enough, he says! Does he know how much upkeep it is to keep a Satyr drunk the right amount to be in working condition? No! He doesn't know!"

Still throwing hands, the tiny Satyr looked at the ceiling while its interlocutor leaned on the counter, tracing circles on the wood.

“And the worst! I cannot retire because the gods keep sending me their children! Poseidon, Hermes, even Apollon! “Please, Phil. You're so good at raising children! Don't worry, it'll be easy." They say! I'm the nanny for Olympus!"

“Have you tried to find a hobby to relax?"

“A hobby? AH! That's so good! And then, big Horsey will tell me to sculpt statues or something like the good ol' Medusa?"

“I did not mean that," coldly replied Nessus, sighing as his jar was empty. Already, Phil saw that flustered face frown from the intoxication. That big lad was drunk.

“Yeah, yeah. But everyone is so keen to ask me for favors and offer me advice on handling their favors!" the Satyr exploded before he dramatically dropped on the counter, arms crossed beneath his head. “Gods be damned, all that hero jazz is not for me…"

Lost in his thoughts, Phil pondered what to do: take what he still had, flee north, and maybe retire among the northern spirits? Or perhaps cross the sea. But then… Something struck his mind as he turned and saw that big Centaur, that immense lad that could crush someone with a closed fist. He was in Athens, one of the least “Centaur-welcoming" cities per se. And nobody batted an eye.

“And you… Why are you here? You seem too good for that dive," grumbled Phil as he eyed Nessus, who merely chuckled with that predatory gaze.

“I'm here for my hobby, Satyr. Do you want to know what it is?" he asked.

Phil rolled his eyes, almost his horns if he could, and stood on his tiny hooved legs, lifting his paunch belly: “Yeah! Let's go before you change your mind!"

He even jumped on the concrete ground and was already pacing towards the Dive's exit, but the hooved steps from Nessus weren't following him.

“What-“ he was on the verge of asking, only to notice Nessus glancing at him and pointing deeper into the tavern with his thumb.

“That direction, shortie."

Phil growled, lowered his shoulders, and rolled them. But he followed, though grimacing at the clients who looked at him… And checked the Centaur, who acted as if it was normal.

“So, what's your hobby?" asked Phil as they passed by a large door, recently made to the Centaur's dimension. It led on a downward slope in a rather poorly lit tunnel. But one Phil could follow as they were now into the back office of that dive.

“You'll see. But no judgment, satyr."

“I swear on Zeus! I'll keep quiet!" shouted back Phil, mimicking him zipping his mouth and holding the key up. It was enough, though, to satisfy the Centaur, who huffed and continued along that tunnel.

But the further they went, the more foul the smell was: rancid, charged with alcohol, and other vices the Satyr tried to put his nose on. Expired Wine? No. Old hag passing as a nymph? Nah. Hera? Oh no, not her.

His musing complimented by his hand on his beard, he pulled on it until he was stopped by the Centaur suddenly stopping. Once the Satyr hit his leg, Nessus turned on the left and walk.

Though, as he fumbled and tried to recompose his footing, Phil encountered a… Well. Not a sight he hoped to check out.

Legends often spoke of the “virility" of centaurs… Phil himself considered it an impossible feat. After all, he was one of the most well-endowed satyrs. And he had to use charms to hide those features from ingenue ladies as a good gentleman. But Nessus wasn't hiding his jewels.

Vigorous and heavy jewels in a dark blue pouch. Two big round jewels bigger than Phil's eyes and slapping against the Centaur's thighs at each step. Well, he knew a source of the place's mixed scent.

But he also witnessed the Centaur's shaft pushing out of its sheath and expanding. It was like a mast, with a wide head and a just-as-wide shape. Clearly, only a few ladies could take that beast without screaming for mercy.

Aaaaand Phil wasn't feeling precisely lady-like.

“Hey. I said no judgment, but I'm not into that kind of thing. I'm a good old satyr with a good love for the young and voluptuous dryads. You know, even if they tend to ignore me, I'm not gonna give up on their charms and settle with you. But you know, you are a very fine gentlem- a very fine gentlecentaur, I'm sure you'll find many Satyrs to woe with-“

“Stop."

“I stop."

Phil did indeed stop his blabbering mouth. His lips sealed as he watched Nessus' eyes directed at him. At least he wasn't frowning or looking angry. Nah, he smiled. He wasn't taking it too bad, then?

“So wh-“

“Stop."

“I stop." Repeated Phil, hands on his mouth and yet eyeing the centaur to see what he would do.

Then he noted the presence of lights on his right: tiny holes from which emanated said light… As well as most of the foul scents. Source number two. By scooting closer, tiptoeing, Phil saw they were by the tavern's latrines. Not the best place to be.

“You ask why I took you here?" asked Nessus, his hooves clopping on the stone ground as he approached a sort of marble block in front of one of such holes.

“Simple. My hobby is helping the two-leggeds."

Phil grimaced, scowled… And saw that massive centaur lift his upper body. Nessus reared and kicked his forelegs up until they seemingly found a footing or support on the wall. His hind legs were tensed, his barrel too. He had to lean forward with his torso… But Nessus was standing upright. Or the most he could.

And as he pointed down, Phil noted one detail.

The Satyr blinked, blinked more, again and again. But here was the centaur's dick perfectly aligned with one of those holes in the walls. He blinked again, unable to compute the vision he had before his eyes.

“Take a seat and admire."

Admire, he wouldn't say. But Phil sat on another rock block near one of the holes. He sat on it, at a total loss of words. Whatever he could ask, it didn't make sense. What Nessus was doing? What would happen? What was his reason to be here?

All those questions stopped when he heard some ruffling on the other side of the wall. And like a good peeping pervert, he looked at it with a curious eye.

There was a mortal, a typical old stupid human. A peasant with cheap clothes like linen pants and a dirty shirt over his burly body. Even his face wasn't pleasing to look at, especially with that smile that lacked a few teeth.

He wondered what the guy was coming here, but when that grubby hand stroked the bulge in those pants, Phil had a guess.

He turned to Nessus, smiling to himself.

He turned to the human, undoing his pants.

He turned to Nessus, biting his lips.

He turned to the human, pulling out a massive junk from it.

He turned to Nessus, his fingers dancing against the wall.

He turned to the human, peeling off his foreskin from that greasy glans.

“What?!" hissed Phil, raising his hand in the direction of the centaur, who shushed the Satyr back with a raised index.

“Hah. I missed your lips, ya know?" said the human outside, slurring. He licked his lips, watched, and eyed where the Centaur's shaft was. He leaned forward with his hand outstretched… But the hole wasn't angled right to see what was happening then.

Phil tried to look, leaned… he even wished he could pop his eye out to see, but no. He didn't know what the human was doing. But he heard Nessus grumble and nearly buck. More than that, his face expressed something like sheer pleasure. Whatever that guy was doing, the Centaur enjoyed it.

“Ah yeah, all wet for good old me. You missed me, right? Yes, you missed me."

The slurring continued, and the human moved closer. There, Phil jumped off his seat and ran to find another point of view. Just at the angle between the room he was in and the corridor they crossed, there was another hole.

And he jumped on the rock beside it to see.

He saw that human with his pants down approaching his dick from the hole plugged by the Centaur's dick… And he saw him thrust.

“What?!" hissed Phil again, leaning by the angle to see Nessus. The Centaur was elated, his neck outstretched while the bulge of the human's shaft was noticeable through the dark-blue dick.

“What?!" continued Phil, returning to his hole to see the human starting to hump and use that dick like a whore's cunt. That human grunted and rutted, his eyes closed and mouth wide open.

Much like Nessus when Phil leaned and saw that dick appear and disappear from beneath the equine's shaft like a throbbing bulge. It was absurd, but both were enjoying it. Fast enough that, in the end, the human groaned and cried out loud before he pulled out.

But the deed was done, and Phil saw cum dribble from the Centaur's exposed and flared tip.

The human had ejaculated….

When he returned to the Centaur, he saw him with a sly grin while he rubbed his torso.

“This is only the beginning, shortie," he even chuckled, pinching his right nipple.

“By Hades, wh-“

Phil's cries were suddenly cut short by more steps and some voices talking. His curiosity sparked, and he turned, again disappearing behind the corner to peep at the latrines, and he saw a queue. A crowd had formed, with the first beelining towards the Centaur's hole.

Others… Well, they were lined against the furthest wall, babbling together about everything and nothing.

The Satyr couldn't believe his eyes. He was a satyr, a creature of lust and desires, and yet… Well, he had never heard of this! Olympus be damned, he even had that terrible thought this was… Too perverse for him. And he shivered at it as if someone or something could outdo a Satyr's needs.

Yet, the humans were lining and taking their turns within Nessus's dick, whose grumblings and moaning filled the place as much as… yes, the taste of acrid piss. Peering on his right and not in front of him or towards Nessus, Phil saw another human who was taking a piss just a few steps away.

“Psst! Psst! Get away!" hissed the Satyr, trying to oust that man who reeked cheap wine and had nothing to woes the ladies for him. Except that he was hung. Damn, that place was filled with men whose dicks threatened Phil's modesty. As if they were bred and rounded up to live here.

“What? Oh? Another hole? Ain't you thirsty," chuckled the guy, shaking the few drops of his shaft before he stepped and gave a hip thrust… And nearly punctured Phil's eye with that lance of a dick.

That thing was as thick as the Satyr's arm, with all the veins and foreskin to cover. And now, with his sight blocked, he couldn't peek at the humans… No, instead, there was only that human's dick with those sweaty pubes, that greasy skin, that pungent smell, and… Was it alcohol Phil smelled?

How that guy managed to drink so much and not pass out?

“Fuck me!" shouted Phil with his mouth covered, trying not to give away his voice. Worse, that guy kept waving his dick in front of him, alluring him with that poisonous musky drink. No way it was as pure as wine or beer… But he could sniff a drop of alcohol at kilometers, and that guy… No, all those guys… Their piss reeked of it.

“What now? Not thirsty?" asked the human, grunting and letting a yellow drop fall from his mushroom-shaped glans. Once it touched down, its perfume spread, filling the Satyr's nose with that aroma. It was… Not normal.

Like a fly drawn to sugar, so was the paunch Satyr as he leaned and approached his head from the glans. The tip was warm, and so was the veiny length. In the poor lighting, from a distant sconce, the purplish skin glimmered.

But what drew the Satyr was… The taste. He extended his tongue and pressed it against the urethra to taste it.

The liquid was salty and warm,… yet tasteful. Even more acrid than the Ambrosia he nicked from Dionysus one day.

“Take it inside. I can't wait anymore!" grumbled the human.

In return, Phil opened his mouth wide without a fuss and swallowed the tip in it. The savor was at its strongest, its most intense form… The pubes nearly tickled the Satyr's nose while a sigh came from the human. And that piss, that warm liquid poured into that slurping mouth.

Phil, of course, gulped and swallowed. His gurgles filled his corner of the corridor while the liquid kept coming and forcing him not to wait. He closed his eyes as he nursed on the human's cock. The guy… He was a fountain, and what he offered was like a free alcoholic ride, nothing like the terrible wine he had been emptying for its absurd price.

So… Phil shut his eyes and took another gulp, letting that warmth spread in his stomach and guts, fill it… Until he had to let go of that shaft in a loud [I]POP!

[/I]

He nearly fell on his backside from the occasion, blinking. He… He passed a hand over his lips. He licked his finger when he saw that yellow drop sticking to it.

“This… is a blessing!" chuckled Phil, licking his index until all drop of it was gone.

But already, something else took his attention. Another shaft; another human presented his dick to him and a distant voice.

“Don't worry, she's thirsty!"

Thirsty… Fuck he was. He was when he jumped to nearly gobble the entire shaft within his mouth. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and Nessus was entirely gone, as seen from his neighs and loud moans.

And it's not like he was cheating since the Dryads ignored him. If the ladies were ignoring him at the moment, it wouldn't hurt to have a moment with the boys.

Especially if he could get drunk out of it.

Phil's eyes closed, and he sucked on the massive glans while piss came and went. He drank from that guy, then another, then another. In a matter of minutes, the Satyr's red nose was pushed in the men's pubes. Was that human's cock going through his throat and fucking it? Oh, that was fine. Fucking fine. He had what he wanted. He was drunk! That was perfect!

No worries, no stress, no tab to handle; Just an endless happy hour for Phil and only him.

Plus, nobody could tell… And nobody would get the wiser.

He drank, he swallowed, he gurgled.

“Hey, are you done?" asked a voice behind Phil.

He didn't turn or answer as he was servicing another guy whose bladder seemed almost done. Oh, that golden liquid wouldn't run. He would get another.

But when that guy ended, and Phil pressed his mouth forward, there was no one… And he hiccuped.

“By Hades, where are they?" asked Phil, hiccupping again. His little form seemed so heavy, and standing on his hooves was so tricky. He forced his hands against the wall, but they slipped. And he hit his jaw against the Gloryhole, hiccupping again.

“They're done. It's morning," answered the voice behind.

Then, a hand grabbed the Satyr by the head and peeled him off the stinky hole.

“Wait- No! Let me! Fuck! I need more! I'm- I'm not drunk! I promise!" mumbled the Satyr, closing his eyes and punching the void before he was let go and fell on his plump backside on the cold ground.

Around, the corridor's sconce had been lit up to provide a minimum of clarity… And here was Nessus, his legs almost as wobbly as the Satyr's. His entire mane was caked with sweat, like his coat and face. The centaur's expression looked a bit relaxed… And when Phil glanced down, he saw the centaur's equine dick erect with his testicles having doubled in size. They were like boulders now, hanging around.

“Woah… Wha-t happened to you, horse?" asked Phil with an agape mouth, his eyelids dropping and so were his cheeks. All before he broke into a chuckle: “Damn. What a good-looking pussy!"

“You're sober enough to see that," commented Nessus, gripping Phil by the arms and throwing him on his back. A wide… Ample back. A perfect back with bones and muscles and skin and fur and everything…

Phil lay down on it, spreading his arms and legs like a starfish while his lulled head tried to focus on the ground. His whole world swayed left and right, but that good horsey was there…

“T- Thanks Nessus! That's… a good bar!" chuckled Phil, rubbing his face against the coat to smother that hilarity. Zeus be damned, that place was good. “Where are we?"

The world kept swaying, and the lights and noises followed, though Phil had a hard time focusing. They were outside, no longer in the bar.

“Hey- Hey… Where are you going?"

“My home outside the city. I need to get off," grumbled the Centaur, his hooved steps hitting the street rocks.

“Hey…Hey. Can I come?" asked Phil, restraining his laughter.

“Sure!"

“Where you cum?" exploded the Satyr, nearly dropping off the centaur's back if not for a hand keeping him steady. “Thanks… Y-You're nice."

For a moment, he felt it was nice to be rocked by that Centaur's back. Before he burped and was pulled out of his drowsiness by it. With another joke in mind.

“Hey- Hey Nesshus! Guess what?"

“What?" answered the Centaur, a bit bothered but calm.

“I'm piss drunk!" cried Phil, hitting the Centaur's back with his fist. Oh, it was good to no longer worry about stupid work or that stupid Hercules Shop. “You know… You're a good friend, Neshus. We should do that again."