Dan and Daddy Heathcliff made their way to the chamber where the brothers had taken Patrick.
Dan was shocked to see Patrick lying face down on the stone floor of the chamber, shackled by his wrists, ankles and neck to the walls with chains traditionally used for naval boats. Whatever was going to go down, these gingers took took all precautions.
“Before we begin the binding ceremony, I'm going to need to brew a very special tea” said Daddy Heathcliff as he made his way to a wooden workbench across the chamber, covered with jars of various different dried roots, flowers and herbs.
Dan knelt down next massive goliath known as Patrick. “What's happening to you?” he asked with concern.
Marcus responded “Well... nobody is quite too sure. People have spent their entire careers, filling whole libraries attempting to understand the unique ginger physiology and mental state, – historians, archaeologists, philosophers, anthropologists, psychologists, doctors, biochemists, physicists, even not to mention a whole lot of mystics and quacks have tried to find explanations. All the theories provide a partial explanation but nothing conclusive has been found.”
Daddy Heathcliff continued to work from from his workbench.
“As far as we're concerned. It's a part blessing, part curse.” Marcus continued. “The best explanation we have is what we have written in the foreword of our clan's Domesday book. It is what our clan follows, other clans have slight variations in the story but the story is essentially the same.”
It's only folk lore, but legend has it that all gingers are descended from a single tribe of Norse warriors. They were all both brutal and efficient at what they did. They stopped at nothing to get what they want. They were also notoriously prolific lovers. In the open they preyed to the gods, they thanked them and presented them offerings for their victories. Under their breath, they scorned and cursed them. For while the warriors were gods among men, they resented the idea of gods having power they will never have. They were thirsty for power and would be willing to give anything they had to get a little more.. They should have been more careful about what they wished for...”
“And then what happened” prompted Dan.
Eventually a god presented themselves to the tribe, promising them to give them all the power they sought and tenfold. Hastily, the tribe accepted the god on his offer. In moments all the members of the tribe felt strength and vitality they had never felt before. They got their wish and grew to the size of the gods they had previously worshipped. Their celebration quickly turned to confusion as all the hair all over their muscled bodies turned from blonde and brown the brightest shade of red.
The god before them cackled maniacally, his features morphing into that of his true identity: Loki. They had been fooled. “You will choose to die freely as gods or live forever as slaves” he cried out. Let your red hair be a constant reminder of the blood you have spilled. And with that he vanished.” Marcus finished “but that's just a myth”
“What does that even mean?”. Dan was starting to get his head around this. There was so much to take in.
“It's rather simple really, irrespective of the myth or not, every ginger comes to a nexus point in their lives where they can take one of three options. If a ginger continues after the nexus point unbound, he will continue to grow and become stronger and larger. He will become sharply intelligent, irresistibly persuasive and solely independent and he'll stay that way for a while. Until...” Marcus looked mournfully at his brother in chains.
“Until what!” Dan asked back.
“He dies.” Daddy Heathcliff interjected behind him. Dan turned around noticing Daddy Cliff had a steaming clay cup of tea, emanating a bouquet of earthy aromas.
“He'll be okay for a number of weeks, a few months at the most. But all this comes at a cost. It's like overclocking a circuitboard at the expense of its operational lifespan. His body will start to fail him. It starts out small: his cock becomes limp and useless, his memories will fade. Eventually his bones will brittle and his muscles will atrophy. I wouldn't wish it upon any of my children.
Another option is he turns his back on his heritage. He can knowingly refuse his identity as a ginger and the power that is his birth-rite. He will wake up with white hair and shrunken, even smaller than you. He'll bring shame to the entire clan and will have wear the stigma of betrayal for his moderately long and impotent life.”
“And the third one? You said there were three”
“Our clan practices binding, it is something I instil in all of my children from when they are very young. When a ginger reaches his nexus, they can choose to give themselves over totally to a Master. Our clan's strength comes from our servitude to our respective Masters.”
Dan looked around the room. Looking at all of the brothers with the heavy padlocks around their necks, tattoos with the marks of their Masters, some with locked cages around their cocks to prevent coming without the express permission of their Masters.
“An unbound ginger is an uncontrollable wildfire” Daddy Cliff continued “A bound ginger is a controlled and focussed burn. He will live a long, dignified and immensely pleasurable life. He will want for nothing than to satisfy his Master. He will become highly sensitive to every one of his Master's wants and needs. He will maintain his strength and vitality until the day his Master dies or dismisses him. It is the only path for Patrick. Now please, we must begin now. Drink the tea.”
Daddy Heathcliff put the steaming cup into Dan's hand. A few loose leaves swirled in the brew. Everything Dan had just been told defied belief, yet here it all was in-front of him. Was Dan even ready to take on Patrick as a slave? What did it mean to be a Master?
He looked down at the body before him shackled in chains. Despite the immense proportions of his body, unconscious he had a clear sense of vulnerability about him. He writhed a little, causing the chains to chink.
Patrick muttered quietly and helplessly in his state in a tone resembling a child lost and alone. “Dan?” he asked. “Dan?!” he asked again with more urgency.
Dan thought back to before they got to the house. Dan told Patrick he would be there for him when he needed it. He didn't understand what he was getting himself into at the time, but based on what he had just been told and what was before him – Patrick needed Dan's help more then ever. Patrick needed Dan.
Dan had a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't sure what was going to come, but he knew deep down that he had to do it. Dan took the tea and raised it to his lips, letting the liquid pour past his tongue and down his throat. It tasted like tree-bark, flowers, grasses, moss and ginger semen.
“What do I do now?” Dan asked nervously.
“Just lie down next to Patrick. You'll start to feel very sleepy very soon”
He gave Patrick a soft kiss on the lips as he leant down. The tip of Patrick's cock moved a little with the sensation.
“Typical ginger” Dan thought.
Dan felt warmth from Patrick's naked body radiating heat like a furnace. By just having Dan closer, Patrick seemed a little more at ease, perhaps it was a smell thing. The brothers started repeating a harmonic chant in a language Dan didn't know, their voices resonating in a deep base. It only took a few seconds for Dan to lose consciousness and find himself somewhere else entirely.