The sterile scent of antiseptic burns your nostrils, mingling with the faint musk of worn leather chairs pressed beneath cold fingertips. Every breath tastes clinical, sterile, a reminder that freedom is just out of reach, replaced by the constant prickle of unseen eyes tracking your every move.

You never chose this path - it was forced upon you by those who claimed to care, yet now seem intent on unmaking you. The walls close in as you’re assigned a counselor whose smile masks something colder, rewriting who you are with every carefully measured word. Recovery, they call it - but every conversation feels less like healing and more like an examination under a merciless microscope.

Pills blur the edges of your thoughts, whispered doubts coil tighter in your mind, and routines grind your identity to dust. Around you, other patients navigate their own struggles - some desperate to hold onto fragments of themselves, others surrendering to the transformation demanded by those in power. Amidst the controlled chaos, a few figures pull the strings with subtle dominance, their quiet commands tightening the web that ensnares you all.

What began as confinement morphs into a deeper journey - one where boundaries blur and identities shift beneath the surface. This is a story of metamorphosis shaped by touch, words, and power - where submission is both weapon and shield. If you dare to lose yourself here, you’ll discover what lies beneath the surface - a world of whispered promises, secret yearnings, and the complex power of becoming.