This story is a standalone adaptation based on Chapters 12–15 of the Ascension series. My goal was to condense the most relevant material while preserving the vivid imagery and detail, ultimately cutting the original story down by roughly 50%.
The story follows the same general events as those chapters, but I've divided it into two parts to keep each post shorter and more manageable. While Part 1 mostly follows the original material, Part 2 will take the story in a different direction, giving the ending a fresh twist for readers who are already familiar with the Ascension series.
Jonas was greeted by the scent of roasting boar fat and fermented cabbage as he made his way into the small town. As he entered the town, he comes upon a crowd had gathered by the town’s Fertility House. Curious, Jonas weaved his way into the front of the crowd. His fingers brushed the weight of Theseus's severed manhood at his hip, which he was gifted by the Greek warrior several night before.
At the front, Jonas caught glimpses of bare flesh, two warriors locked in combat. One was a massive giant but it was the other one, a Norseman, that captivated the demigod’s eyes. He was handsome, rippling with corded muscle, with medium brown hair, cerulean eyes, pale skin, and naked as the day he was born.
The fight was short. TheNorseman moved with deadly grace and within a minute, he liberates his opponent’s ball sack with a brutal arc of a gelding knife.
SCHLICK!
The giant released a defeated groan before collapsing into the mud. But the victor barely spared his fallen opponent a glance. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jonas and immediately shifted his attention toward the unexpected observer.
Jonas stood motionless as the warrior's gaze travel the length of his body. Jonas was handsome and athletic. His skin as smooth and pale as cream except for the dusting of freckles across his shoulders and nose from summers spent under the open sky. The sharp angles of his hips and smoothness of his chest glistened in the sun. His ribs showed slightly when he inhaled, his muscles toned and well-defined.
But most impressive was the beast between Jonas’s thighs. His cock hung thick and heavy, veined along the underside, with a ruddy head. His balls were swayed in the breeze, the weight of them undeniable.
The handsome stranger's nostrils flared as he stepped closer. ”You smell of Greek," he spoke with curiosity. His free hand cradled the pouch on Jonas’s belt, which had the unmistakable shape of Theseus's severed member. "How did you come upon your prey, warrior?"
Jonas smirked. "The fool challenged me and thus I took what was most precious to him."
The warrior's grin widened. A worthy trophy," he grinned.
"My name is Ingvar and I am the town's Breedmaster. We Breedmasters oversee the fertility houses," the warrior continued. "We ensure strong lineages continue. Only the proven may pass their seed.”
"And is that all they do?" Jonas grinned. He knew there was more to the story.
Ingvar chuckled. "We also geld the weak,” the Breedmaster grinned. "Any warrior who tries to claim women not meant for him or challenges a Breedmaster's rule..." His hand slid lower, cupping Jonas's heavy nutsack and gave it a playful squeeze.
Jonas's grin turned feral as his fingers tightened around Ingvar's wrist—not to stop him, but to press the Breedmaster's palm harder against his plump balls. "And how many foolish challengers swing from your rafters?" he spoke.
Ingvar smirked as he jerked his chin toward the fertility house's timbered eaves. Jonas followed his gaze to where dozens of preserved phalluses of varied length and thickness hung pierced through at the base with an iron nail. They dangled like grotesque ornaments, swaying gently in the breeze. "Enough to decorate every beam," Ingvar playfully responded.
But Ingvar’s voice changed tone from playful threat to a welcoming laugh. “But tonight, you'll dine at my table and share how you felled such impressive prey."
“Sounds great.” Jonas grinned, his balls warm in Ingvar’s hand. “Perhaps afterwards, I can spill my seed in your women, provided I am worthy?”
The Breedmaster chuckled. ”Breed whoever you please, warrior," Ingvar smirked, twisting Jonas's balls just shy of pain. "So long as your seed strengthens our line."
“But one last order of business before we head to the inn," he spoke turning toward the defeated warrior. He dropped Jonas’s hefty nuts and moved his hand to the hilt of his gelding knife. Jonas watched as Ingvar approached the fallen giant in the cold mud.
The giant’'s ruined sack gaped open like a bloodied maw, his severed cords glistening pink in the sunlight. Ingvar's bare foot came down on the man's massive chest, pinning him flat as he grasped the warrior's flaccid but thick cock. With one brutal twist and pull, the Breedmaster tore the member free from its root!
RRRIIIPPPPPP!!!
Jonas's breath hitched as the Breedmaster held his prize aloft, the severed length dangling limply from his fist. A thrall from within the crowd humbly presented the Breedmaster a hammer and an iron nail which Ingvar took. With three mighty blows, he nailed the fallen warrior's severed phallus onto the eaves of the fertility house.
The Breedmaster wiped his crimson-stained palm down the giant's twitching thigh before turning back to Jonas, his smile sharp as the blade at his side. "Alright now we're done," he smiled as he signaled the Norse prince to follow him back to the inn.
The men arrived just as the sun started to set. Jonas followed the scent of charred meat and fermented honey through the doorway. The inn was full of men from all over the land. They sat at tables conversing and drinking mead. There was a central firepit, its glow painting the rafters in flickering hues of amber. But what caught Jonas’s attention was a multitude of phalluses hanging on the walls just like the eaves of the fertility house. The Breedmaster's trophies collected over the years.
Jonas gazed at the impressive collection before Ingvar brought to his attention a particularly massive specimen, its gnarled veins coursing down the shaft like twisted roots. Despite being desiccated and shriveled after the preservation process, it was still monstrous, the size and length of Jonas’s forearm.
"This one belonged to my father, the former Breedmaster. I tore it off myself to become the current Breedmaster."
Jonas marveled at the member with admiration.
“Don’t pity him. He deserved his fate and more,” Ingvar spoke quietly. For the first time, Jonas felt the flames of intense hatred radiating from the Breedmaster.
He turns to Jonas. “But I would like to come clean. I know who your father is the Frost Giant Jotun. This makes you a demigod.”
Jonas's breath caught in his throat. He had not expected the Breedmaster to recognize him, let alone know who he truly was.
"You're here because your father continues to spill his seed and it is your duty to unman him.” Ingvar growled. “An impossible task, even for a demigod, unless…”
He stares deep into Jonas’s azure eyes. ”Unless you defeat the most powerful warriors through combat and absorb their strength. But what you do not know is that I plan on harvesting you myself," he grinned. "I too yearn for the power of a Titan, and your cock will elevate my strength to untold heights.”
Jonas remained silent.
"The law of the old gods demands this transfer of strength only be done only when the manhood is taken unwillingly in combat or as the ultimate gift from one man to another,” he growled. "And I have no intention of sacrificing my own manhood.”
“Then I guess, you know what must be done,” Jonas grinned.
************
The two left the inn and entered the arena chamber within the Fertility House. The stone walls and floor bore the stains of countless contests, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood and fresh seed. It appears to have been used recently.
By tradition, every duel in the Fertility House was fought without armor or clothing, and this contest would be no different. The only possession each were allowed was a gelding knife, supplied by the Breedmaster of the Fertility House. Jonas removed his clothes and placed them against the arena wall, carefully setting the pouch containing Theseus's cock beside them.
He stepped into the arena and walked toward his starting position, his eyes fixed on Ingvar as the Breedmaster prepared for the coming duel.
The Breedmaster stood on the other side of the arena, his naked form illuminated by torchlight. Jonas could see the handsome warrior's battle-strengthened physique, completely nude except for a belt holding only a brown pouch snugly to his waist. Ingvar's cock hung semi-hard between his thighs, its thick vein pulsing visibly as he rolled his shoulders.
Once both men had taken their positions, they settled into their fighting stances. For several tense moments, neither Norseman moved. They simply watched and waited for the other to make the first mistake. Their knuckles were whitened from tightly holding the gelding knife. The gelding knife felt alien in Jonas’s grip, the silver handle of the blade were etched with ancient runes. The blade itself was serrated.
There was a disquieting quality in the air. As a demigod, Jonas was strongly favored in this fight. Yet the Breedmaster was as comfortable as an infant in his mother's embrace.
Just when Jonas thought Ingvar was about to make his move, the Breedmaster’s stance slackened unexpectedly.
”Ah,” Ingvar grinned, his fingers loosening around his own blade's hilt. "Forgive me. I forgot one other thing."
He walked to the wall of his side of the arena and stuck his hand in his overstuffed leather pouch and pulled out a severed, monstrous phallus.
Jonas recognized it instantly from the rafters—the Ingvar's father's cock!
The Breedmaster proceeded to mutter a soft incantation, ancient words long forgotten by mortal men. Jonas recognized the spell; it was not a spell of regeneration but one of disenchantment. The incantation undid the illusion that was cast on the phallus.
As the Breedmaster continued his chant, the illusion began to fade. The skin of the cock began to tighten and smooth out, the shriveled texture of the preserved flesh expanding as it hydrated from the inside out. Veins that had been colorless suddenly flooded with a deep, rhythmic crimson, pulsing with a sudden surge of vitality. The dehydrated tissue of the shaft expanded with a rhythmic, pulsing force, pushing outward as the glans swelled into a proud, velvet crown. The raisin-like skin of the scrotum began to stretch and unfurl while the testicles shifted with a wet, sliding sound, regaining their spherical volume and settling into the base of the sac with a fleshy thud.
The member was never desiccated even though it was severed long ago. It was alive as the day it hung from its former owner.
Jonas's jaw clenched. Ingvar was no mortal but a demigod hiding in plain sight.
“My father’s cock in its true form. Does it look familiar now?” Ingvar sneered as he held the gargantuan cock at eye level to Jonas. His voice was full of malice. “It should. It’s the one that sired you and the one you drank the seed out of.”
Jonas’s eyes widened as a chill ran through Jonas. For the first time, Jonas truly looked into Ingvar's eyes and realized the color mirrored his own.
“We are half-brothers, born of the same Titan seed but to different mothers,” Ingvar spoke. There was no warmth in his voice.
Jonas eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his own blade. “How were you able to castrate Jotun? There is no way you were able to overpower the Frost Titan,” he snarled. The torchlight flickered violently casting dancing shadows on the stone floor.
"It happened during the Long Winter," Ingvar voiced with delight, fingers flexing around the pulsating length of Jotun's severed member. The organ twitched in his grip as if recalling its own violation. "Our father had taken his third wife that night—a shieldmaiden from the southern fjords. I waited until he mounted her, until his balls tightened and his cock swelled to bursting." The Breedmaster's thumb circled the flared glans, smearing precum in slow, deliberate strokes. "The moment when a man is most vulnerable—when his seed is poised to spill and his thoughts are nothing but heat."
Jonas's breath hitched as Ingvar's free hand mimed a powerful slash. "The runes on the blade glowed white-hot as I severed him," the Breedmaster continued. "Our father roared loud enough to shake glaciers from their beds. His cock spasmed violently as it left his body—still spurting Titan seed, still trying to fertilize the maiden even as it sailed through the air." Ingvar's fingers twitched around the disembodied length, its veins pulsing with remembered outrage. "I caught it by the shaft just before it hit the ground.”
"You harvested his manhood, yet here you stand—exiled like me, despite your prize,” Jonas said smugly. He knew why Ingvar needed the power of his cock.
Ingvar's smile vanished and his face darkened. His fingers clenched around their father's twitching member until the glans darkened to an angry purple.
“The blade was not adamantine…” Ingvar spat with undisguised hatred in his voice. “I saw the manhood regenerate like some fucking hydra." His thumb pressed cruelly into the severed cock's weeping slit as if to punish it for surviving. “He turned to me to exact his revenge but I managed to escape.”
The Breedmaster’s frown slowly curled into a wicked smile. “But once I absorb your cock and obtain an adamantine blade, I will geld the bastard once and for all.”
“You can try.” Jonas laughed with derision. “I’ll sever your manhood before devouring it right before you eyes.”
"Only one way to find out," Ingvar sneered as he disrespectfully tossed his father’s cock to the side of the arena. The severed organ continued to twitch intermittently, beads of thick precum leaking from the slit as it lay on the cold stone floor.
The torchlight painted shifting shadows across the brother’s battle-honed bodies as they circled one another. Every ripple of muscle moved with predatory grace. The only sound was the occasional crackle coming from the lit torches
Then, as fast as lightning, Ingvar flew across the chamber floor, his father's stolen member swinging obscenely in his off-hand as his blade carved toward Jonas' groin! The gelding knife flashed with the brutal speed and precision of a master archer.
Jonas jumped backwards, twisting his hips but the curved edge bit just beneath his foreskin, peeling back a thin ribbon of flesh in a crimson arc.
SCHLICK!
Jonas grunted through clenched teeth, his fingers spasming around his own knife's hilt as blood welled thick and dark along the wound. His cock twitched traitorously against the pain, the severed edge of his foreskin fluttering like a battle standard in the torchlight. Ingvar's eyes trailed down his half-brother's body and gazed at the beautiful member. Though only partially circumcised, his glans were visible, pink-red and succulent like a cherry. The thick, veiny shaft remained untouched.
Ingvar grinned at the partial circumcision he had just performed on his brother. His gelding knife traced idle circles in the air—each rotation narrowing closer to Jonas' groin. "I do so enjoy slowly circumcising warriors bit by bit. It’s like peeling an onion, layer by quivering layer. But most of all, I enjoy the sheer terror in their eyes as I unman them.”
Jonas's eyes widened in horror. The Breedmaster wasn't going to nullify him quickly, but to toy with him as a cat would a terrified mouse. He was going to slowly cut away at his cock millimeter by millimeter. Jonas opened his mouth to respond but before he could say a word his half-brother pounced again.
The Breedmaster moved with the ready grace of a snow leopard, his blade flashing upward in a cruel arc, targeting Jonas's foreskin. Jonas screamed as the blade's cold bite peeled another piece of his foreskin off, now exposing most of the glans.
SCHLICK!
Breathing hard but refusing to yield, Jonas chose to seize the initiative before Ingvar could launch another assault. With a fierce roar, he lunged forward, his gelding knife flashing toward the Breedmaster's throat.
But the Breedmaster caught Jonas's strike with his own blade, the weapons colliding with a sharp metallic screech. With a practiced twist of his wrist, he redirected Jonas's momentum and wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The Norse prince's blade spun across the arena floor before clattering against the stone.
With the ferocity and swiftness of the Northern Winds, Ingvar’s free hand clamped around his half-brother's shaft, stretching the remaining foreskin taut. The final cut came swift as a headsman's axe, a merciless but precise slice that sent the last ribbon of flesh peeling away.
SCHLICK!
Jonas screamed and staggered backwards, clutching his groin to save what was left of his foreskin. But what was left of his brother’s foreskin rested in Ingvar's palm, glistening like a wet scarlet leaf. The Breedmaster didn't hesitate as he raised the trembling flesh to his lips and swallowed it whole. A shudder wracked his body as Jonas' stolen potency hit his system, his testicles visibly swelling beneath their sac as new power flooded his veins. Ingvar exhaled through flared nostrils, his pupils dilating as he licked residual blood from his fingers.
"You're as sweet as honey," he laughed, rolling Jonas' essence across his tongue. "I bet the women in the fertility house are wet just imaging how you taste. Too bad you will never bed them.”
Torchlight caught the way Jonas' newly exposed glans pulsed angrily, its cherry-red surface slick with blood. He pressed a trembling hand to the wound, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Ingvar advanced. The Breedmaster's cock stood fully erect now, its veins throbbing with stolen vitality. “You should be grateful, little brother. Men in the far East pay good money to circumcise their sons,” he purred, spinning the gelding knife in a lazy arc. “I gave you one, free of charge.”
Jonas's lungs were on fire, his ragged breath scraping his throat raw. His head was spinning from pain and exhaustion, his exposed cockhead throbbing in the cold air.
Ingvar's mocking laughter echoed off the stone walls. "Tired already, brother?" Ingvar sneered, taking a step forward. His own cock stood rigid as a spear, glistening with Jonas' stolen potency. "And here I thought you would put up a fight."
The gelding knife flashed silver in the torchlight as Ingvar lunged, a viper-strike aimed straight for Jonas' exposed groin. But the Norse prince twisted sideways at the last heartbeat, letting momentum carry his half-brother past. Jonas thrusts his elbow upward, into Ingvar's stomach. The Breedmaster's breath exploded outward in a startled grunt, his abdominal muscles caving into his body from the blow.
Jonas didn't hesitate. His bare foot lashed upward in a brutal arc, toes curling instinctively as they connected with the voluptuous ball sack hanging between Ingvar's thighs.
TTHHWWAACCKKK!!
The impact lifted the Breedmaster clean off his feet before he crashed onto the cold stones, both hands clutching his battered bollocks.
Jonas staggered back and spat on the ground. His heart hammered against his chest as he clutched his throbbing, circumcised cock. He looked around frantically for his gelding knife but the blade was veiled in shadows, outside the reach of torchlight.
As Ingvar hoist himself from the ground, his snarl twisted into a feral grin, his teeth glinting like wet bone in the torchlight. "Excellent," he rasped, spittle spraying from his lips. "You still have some fight in you."
With breakneck speed, the Breedmaster lunged toward him. His gelding knife flashed downward in a silver arc, the curved edge kissing Jonas's scrotum with deceptive gentleness before Jonas could even respond.
SSCCHHLLIINNKK!! …….. PLOP.. PLOP…
Jonas felt a wave of warmth radiating from his groin before the burning sting of pain. Then Jonas's ballsack blossomed open like a grotesque flower, the skin parting in a perfect horizontal slit just above the midline. His testicles, freed from their fleshy prison, tumbled forward in a slow, obscene descent. The thick spermatic cords stretched like ship's rigging, suspending the twin large orbs in the cool air. Each cool breeze on the bollocks sent chills up Jonas' spine.
Jonas staggered back, his hands flying toward his groin instinctively to catch his escaping organs. His fingers brushed against the smooth, warm but slimy surface of the tunica vaginalis. The membrane glistened under torchlight, the intricate network of veins pulsing beneath. He felt the coils of his epididymis tighten, fat and spongy, housing his concentrated seed. The left testicle swung violently as Jonas moved, its weight tugging painfully at the nerves of the spermatic cord. A strangled sound escaped his throat when he cupped them gingerly, the sensation bizarrely intimate.
Jonas froze, one hand still cupping his dangling testicles, the other braced against the cold stone wall. Every breath came shallow and controlled, his abdominal muscles locked rigid to prevent even the slightest jostle of those delicate cords. A single violent movement, he knew, would snap those fragile lifelines like overstretched sinew.
Ingvar's grin widened impossibly as he recognized Jonas's predicament.
The first kick came without warning, a vicious upward snap of Ingvar's bare foot that connected squarely with Jonas's left testicle.
TTTHHHWWWAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!
The impact sent the heavy orb swinging violently backward, its weight stretching the spermatic cord to near-breaking point before it rebounded forward like a pendulum. Jonas screamed as his knees buckled instinctively, but he caught himself against the wall, propping himself with both hands. However this left both of Jonas’s bollocks completely vulnerable to his half-brother’s wrath. Ingvar’s second kick landed but this time targeting both dangling orbs with brutal precision.
TTTHHHWWWAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!
Jonas's scream tore through the chamber like a wounded beast’s as Ingvar's heel connected with his dangling testicles again. The impact sent the heavy orbs swinging violently backward, their weight stretching the delicate spermatic cords to near-snapping tension before they rebounded forward to smack against his thighs with wet, meaty thuds.
Ingvar continued his onslaught, this time a sideways kick that sent Jonas's left testicle spinning on its cord like a grisly tetherball. The Norse warrior's vision whited out as the orb completed multiple rotations, twisting the spermatic cord until the grayish-pink orb darkened to angry crimson from lack of blood flow. His right testicle swung helplessly beside it, the epididymis bulging obscenely where impact forces strained the delicate tubing. Jonas' hands fluttered uselessly at his sides, torn between protecting his vulnerable organs and avoiding any contact that might worsen the damage.
Ingvar capitalized on Jonas’s hesitation as an invitation. This time Ingvar’s hands closed around Jonas's testicles with the precision of a vise, each hand gripping one swollen orb with ruthless intent.
The Breedmaster's thumbs pressed deep into the yielding membranes, indenting the rubbery surfaces until Jonas could feel his own seminiferous tubules compressing beneath the pressure. A strangled cry tore from Jonas's throat as Ingvar's fingertips probed the delicate epididymal coils, crushing the intricate spiral where his seed matured and forcing fluid backward through swollen ducts.
The left testicle's outer membrane stretched thin as wet parchment under Ingvar's relentless grip, the fibrous capsule distending grotesquely around his knuckles. Jonas's vision swam with black spots as he felt microscopic ruptures forming in his bollocks. He could feel his tadpoles disintegrating into nothingness under the immense pressure.
Ingvar's right thumb dug deeper into the medial surface of Jonas's left testicle, compressing the epididymal head until the tightly coiled tube began unspooling under pressure.
SSSPPPLLLLOOOOOOSSSSHHHH!!!
A sickening, wet sound echoed through the chamber as one ruptured, sending a geyser of immature sperm cells spraying across Ingvar's wrist in a milky arc. Jonas's scream hit a shattered octave when the Breedmaster's right index finger suddenly pierced through the weakened outer membrane entirely, the fingertip sinking knuckle-deep into seminiferous tubules bursting with half-formed seed.
The right testicle fared no better as Ingvar's grip had shifted to a brutal torsion maneuver, twisting the spermatic cord and transforming Jonas's gonad into a throbbing crimson mass twice its normal size. When Ingvar suddenly released the testicle a sudden rush of returning circulation surged into the gonad sending razor-sharp pain up Jonas's spine.
But Ingvar did not stop there….
TO BE CONTINUED…
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