You signed the forms.
You told yourself it was still a choice.

The door sealed behind you with a sound that felt final. Cold air. Sterile light. The soft click of a collar locking around your throat. Somewhere deeper in the complex, other collared figures move on all fours or stand motionless where they were placed—pets, mascots, living furniture, drones. Inventory.

Here, resistance is expected.
It is also irrelevant.

You will be measured, restrained, classified, and used. Your body will learn new postures. Your name will be retired. Speech will become a privilege you have to earn back every day. The staff are patient, precise, and absolute. They will speak to the part of you that wanted this even while the rest of you is still fighting the cuffs.

Heavy bondage. Pet protocols. Total ownership.
No safewords that actually stop the process—only the ones that change how the training is delivered.

The facility does not need you to be willing.
It only needs you to be here.

Collar’s already on.
Present yourself.