Be the uniform v.II

Sixteen boys arrived at Camp HYDRA on a cool summer morning. Hidden deep within endless pine forests, the camp seemed untouched by the modern world. A weathered wooden arch marked the entrance, while two large black buses waited outside the gates as if they had always belonged there.

The campers climbed down one by one, carrying duffel bags and sleeping rolls. Waiting for them were the camp's two instructors—both tall, broad-shouldered blond men dressed in immaculate black uniforms. Their calm smiles never quite reached their eyes.

"Welcome to Camp HYDRA," one of them said. "For the next four weeks, you'll discover what you're truly capable of."

The camp itself was impressive. A massive log hall stood in the center, surrounded by wooden barracks, training fields, and trails disappearing into dense forests. Every building was spotless. Every schedule was precise.

Life quickly settled into a routine.

The mornings began before sunrise with long runs through mist-covered woodland trails. After breakfast came obstacle courses, swimming competitions on the nearby lake, climbing exercises, and team challenges that pushed everyone to exhaustion. Despite the demanding schedule, the instructors rarely raised their voices. They simply watched.

Always watched.

Evenings were different.

The entire camp gathered around large campfires. Marshmallows roasted over glowing embers while mugs of hot chocolate warmed cold hands. Stories echoed through the trees, and laughter carried into the night beneath a sky filled with stars.

It almost felt like home.

After lights-out, the sixteen boys slept together inside a long wooden barracks. Rows of sturdy bunk beds lined both walls. Lanterns hanging from heavy ceiling beams cast a faint amber glow that slowly faded as the fire burned low.

Outside, the forest became completely silent.

Somewhere during the night, Ethan opened his eyes.

He wasn't sure what had awakened him.

The barracks lay in near darkness. Moonlight slipped through the narrow windows, painting pale silver stripes across the wooden floorboards. Around him, everyone else remained asleep. Soft breathing filled the room.

Then he heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Measured.

Someone was walking between the bunks.

Ethan kept perfectly still.

A shadow emerged from the darkness at the far end of the room. One of the camp leaders moved silently between the beds, his polished boots making almost no sound. In one hand he carried a folded white cloth. In the other was a dark green glass bottle without a label.

He stopped beside Ethan's bed.

For several long seconds neither of them moved.

The instructor looked down at him with an unreadable expression.

"I knew you'd wake up," he said quietly.

His voice was calm. Almost comforting.

"You've done very well."

Ethan tried to sit up, but the instructor gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No need to be afraid," he whispered. "The first transition is always the hardest."

"What... transition?"

The instructor didn't answer.

Instead, he uncorked the green bottle.

A faint medicinal scent drifted into the air—not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. Sharp. Sweet. Metallic.

He unfolded the white cloth with deliberate care, dampening one corner with the liquid.

"What is this?" Ethan asked, his heartbeat quickening.

Still no answer.

The instructor leaned closer until his face was only inches away.

"You'll understand soon."

The cloth covered Ethan's nose and mouth.

He instinctively tried to pull away, but his body suddenly felt heavy, as though sleep itself had become a physical force pressing him into the mattress.

The lantern at the far end of the barracks blurred.

The wooden ceiling stretched impossibly high.

The quiet breathing of the other campers dissolved into a low mechanical hum.

Darkness swallowed everything.

A sharp electronic tone pierced the silence.

Ethan's eyes snapped open.

Bright white lights flooded his vision.

Gone were the wooden walls, the smell of pine, and the soft glow of lanterns.

Instead, polished steel surrounded him.

He sat strapped into a reclining examination chair inside an enormous underground laboratory. Transparent displays floated in the air while banks of humming machines lined the walls. Scientists in spotless white coats moved calmly between computer consoles as though this were an ordinary morning.

To his left sat two other boys from the camp.

Both were asleep.

Both wore large black neural headsets covering the sides of their heads.

Neither moved.

Footsteps echoed across the metal floor.

Ethan looked up.

One of the camp leaders approached.

His black scout uniform was gone.

Now he wore sleek black combat armor marked with the unmistakable HYDRA emblem across the chest.

He regarded Ethan with the same calm expression he had worn in the barracks.

"Good," he said.

"You're awake."

A nearby scientist picked up another headset and adjusted its glowing inner ring.

"Subject sixteen is conscious," she announced.

The camp leader nodded.

"Then let's begin the next phase."

The scientist approached with the headset cradled carefully in both hands. Up close, Ethan could see that it was heavier than it looked. Matte black metal curved around thick layers of padded insulation, while dozens of tiny indicator lights pulsed beneath a transparent strip along the sides.

"Heart rate elevated," another scientist observed without looking up from her monitor.

"Expected," replied the armored officer.

Two technicians secured the headset over Ethan's ears. It settled into place with a soft mechanical click.

The room became strangely quiet.

Not silent.

Just... distant.

The humming machinery faded. The footsteps around him seemed to come from somewhere impossibly far away.

A calm voice emerged inside the headphones.

"Good morning, Ethan."

He looked around.

No one had spoken.

The voice continued anyway.

"You are safe."

The lights in the laboratory dimmed.

The inside of the headset filled with soft white light that slowly dissolved into moving images.

The forests of Camp HYDRA.

The lake.

The campfire.

The log hall.

Smiling faces.

The voice never hurried.

"You came here by choice."

The memories felt real.

Ethan frowned.

Something wasn't right.

"I... don't remember choosing this."

The voice ignored him.

"You wanted to become stronger."

The images repeated.

The arrival at camp.

The morning exercises.

The swimming competitions.

Each replay looked slightly different from what Ethan remembered. Conversations changed. Expressions shifted. Details subtly rearranged themselves.

His certainty began to weaken.

"I..."

The headset emitted another gentle pulse.

"You are among friends."

Another pulse.

"You have always belonged here."

The words echoed through his thoughts until it became difficult to remember whether he had heard them or thought them himself.

Outside the chair, the scientists watched streams of neural activity dancing across their monitors.

"Resistance decreasing," one reported.

"Memory integration progressing normally."

The armored officer folded his arms.

"Continue."

The scenes became faster.

Days at the camp flashed by.

Running through forests.

Laughing in the dining hall.

Training beside the lake.

Every pleasant memory ended with the same image: the two instructors standing nearby, smiling with quiet approval.

The voice returned.

"They protected you."

Pulse.

"They guided you."

Pulse.

"They never lied to you."

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.

Fragments of another memory struggled to surface.

A dark barracks.

Moonlight.

A white cloth.

A green bottle.

The scientist's voice cut through the room.

"Unexpected recall."

The armored officer stepped closer.

"Increase synchronization."

The headset brightened.

The laboratory disappeared.

The forest returned.

Only this time it felt... perfect.

Sunlight filtered through tall pines.

The air smelled of fresh rain.

The instructors stood waiting at the end of the trail.

One extended his hand.

"You've done well, Ethan."

The other smiled.

"Welcome home."

Something inside Ethan hesitated.

Then the hesitation faded like mist in the morning sun.

His breathing slowed.

The tension left his shoulders.

The monitors stabilized.

One by one, the warning indicators changed from amber to green.

The lead scientist studied the final readings before nodding once.

"Subject sixteen is responsive."

The armored officer looked directly at Ethan.

"State your name."

"Ethan."

"And your purpose?"

Ethan paused for only a heartbeat.

His expression was calm.

Focused.

"I am ready for my assignment."

The officer gave a satisfied nod.

"Excellent."

The restraints released with a metallic click.

Ethan stood.

For a brief instant, he glanced toward the two sleeping recruits beside him. Somewhere, deep beneath layers of implanted memories and carefully constructed certainty, a flicker of recognition remained.

It was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Without another word, Ethan followed the officer out of the laboratory, while behind him the next headset powered on.

Morning arrived with the sound of a loud siren echoing across the compound.

Ethan's eyes opened instantly.

There was no grogginess. No confusion.

Only immediate obedience.

He stepped out of his bunk inside a stark concrete barracks deep beneath the forest. Around him, the other recruits did the same. Sixteen young men moved with mechanical precision, speaking only when instructed. Their expressions were blank, their movements perfectly synchronized.

A heavy blast door rolled open.

"Formation."

The single word was enough.

Within moments they emerged into the central parade ground.

The peaceful summer camp was gone.

The wooden signs that had once welcomed visitors had vanished overnight. In their place stood towering steel pylons draped with enormous red HYDRA banners. The cheerful log hall had been stripped of its decorations, its windows covered with armored shutters. Watchtowers overlooked the square, and rows of floodlights pointed toward the surrounding forest.

The illusion had disappeared.

This was the facility's true face.

The recruits formed perfect ranks in the center of the courtyard, standing motionless with their hands behind their backs.

Across from them stood the two former camp leaders.

Their scout uniforms had been replaced by sleek black combat armor. Matte plates covered their shoulders and chest, while dark tactical belts carried equipment Ethan had never seen before. Only their faces remained familiar.

One stepped forward slowly, examining each recruit in silence.

"A few days ago," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard, "you believed you had arrived at a summer camp."

He paused.

"That was your first lesson."

The second officer continued.

"You have endured physical training. Psychological evaluation. Neural synchronization."

He looked across the formation.

"You are no longer campers."

At the far end of the courtyard, armored transport vehicles rolled through reinforced gates.

Their rear doors lowered with a hydraulic hiss.

Uniformed personnel unloaded long metal crates and stacked them neatly beside the parade ground.

Each crate bore the unmistakable HYDRA emblem.

Technicians opened them one by one.

Inside, neatly arranged black combat uniforms rested in individual compartments, each marked with a recruit's identification number.

"Step forward when called."

One after another, the recruits approached without hesitation.

Each received a folded uniform, tactical gloves, reinforced boots, and protective body armor.

No one spoke.

No one questioned.

When Ethan's number was called, he accepted his equipment automatically.

For a brief moment, his fingers brushed the fabric.

A faint image flashed through his mind—

A wooden campfire.

Laughter.

A mug of hot chocolate warming cold hands.

The memory was gone almost before it formed.

"Recruit."

Ethan looked up immediately.

"Yes, sir."

"Suit up."

Minutes later, the sixteen recruits returned to the parade ground.

Rows of identical black armored figures stood where campers had stood only days before.

The two officers slowly walked along the front rank, inspecting every detail.

Satisfied, they exchanged a brief glance.

"Excellent," one of them said quietly.

Behind them, the great HYDRA banner stirred in the morning wind.

Far beneath the compound, hidden behind layers of steel and concrete, the laboratory screens continued to display a reassuring message in green letters:

PROJECT HYDRA

PHASE ONE: COMPLETE

The sixteen recruits stood in perfect formation, their new black armor reflecting the cold morning light. No one spoke. Their faces were expressionless, their movements unnaturally synchronized.

The two commanders walked slowly along the front rank, inspecting each recruit in silence. Scientists watched from an elevated observation platform behind reinforced glass, recording every reaction.

"Synchronization complete," one announced.

At the command, the recruits responded in perfect unison—not with enthusiasm, but with the hollow precision of people whose free will had been stripped away. With perfect synchronized movements they raised their arms to the HYDRA salute. Their voices echoed across the parade ground as they recited the organization's indoctrination oath, each word sounding mechanical and emotionless:

"HAIL HYDRA! HAIL HYDRA! HAIL HYDRA!"

One commander allowed himself a faint smile.

"The conditioning has taken hold."

Jake was on if these fags craving to be owned. After all it is a fag calling to be owned.

He found a master on Tumblr.

At first it was fun. Jake had to put on a dress shirt and pledge full obedience to his master.

He even got lines to write like in school. Jake enjoyed it very much.

His master was so nice. He even sent a chastity cage to Jake. Jake was so excited he tried it on without looking at the details. When he stared looking for the key, he realised it wasn't here.

Master send him a message : "Get a hair cut and maybe I'll free you. "

Jake had no other choice than to obey. He went and got the haircut master asked for.

Jake starting wearing bowtie because master would not release him. He even sent humiliating picture of himself.

With the help of Blackmail and chastity, Jake was soon turned into the perfect butler.

And after a few more weeks of work Jake was finally erased. Fag n°3 was born. No more thoughts just obedience.

Bang, Bang, Bang!

"Did he fall asleep or something?" Heath thought to himself as he waited outside Josh's apartment. "Maybe he’s got his headphones in and can't hear me knocking? Hmm... But why would he have headphones in if he new I was coming? I hope he's not hurt."

He banged again even louder. "Hey Joshy boy! Everything alright in there?. It's Heath."

But still there was no answer.

He had just texted Josh no more than 5 mins ago, just letting him know he would be there soon to help set up. And Josh replied, no problem.

Josh had been planning this party every since they both started grad school a couple weeks earlier in hopes of making some new friends.

Banged! BanG!! BANG!!!

Heath was really worried now.

So, he tried calling him, but there was no answer.

"Err.." he growled in worried frustration as he began to dial 9-1-1.

Click.

Josh's door slowly began to open.

"God man! You were worrying me for a moment. I was just about to call the Pol..."

Heath looked at Josh.

"What... are you alright, man?" Heath asked. "You looked like you've seen a ghost."

Josh stayed quiet as he stood frozen in the doorway breathing heavily as he looked at Heath. His fists were trembly slightly, clenched tight by his side, his skin was pale and clammy. He had his eyes opened wide with intensity as though he wanted to tell Health something but was to scared to.

"And why are you wearing that?" Heath asked. Pointing out the slick black rubber bodysuit that clung to Josh's skin.

Please leave a like or comments. Your interaction makes me motivated to continue.

Thank you!

---

Rick draped the cape around the customer's shoulders and adjusted the chair.

The young man sitting in front of him looked barely twenty-two. Clean-cut already, but trying very hard to look even more respectable.

"So what are we doing today?" Rick asked.

"Just tidy it up."

Rick picked up the comb.

The customer glanced around the shop.

"One guy from our congregation said you're good barber, and that you are part of the community."

Rick almost laughed.

The young man grinned.

A few minutes passed.

Then the customer lowered his voice.

"You know, I'm not really convinced by all the church stuff."

Rick paused for a second.

"No?"

The young man shook his head.

"I mean... maybe. Maybe not."

Rick continued cutting.

"But?"

"But they helped me find work."

He shrugged.

"People trust you more when you look the part."

Rick looked at him through the mirror.

The customer continued.

"I got offered an apprenticeship."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

The young man smiled.

"My parents are happy."

"And church?"

The customer rolled his eyes.

"I go."

Rick laughed.

"You sound excited."

"I'm not."

The young man lowered his voice further.

"Honestly? I'm just trying to get my life together."

Rick stopped for a second.

That sounded painfully familiar.

The customer continued.

"I don't need to believe every story."

"Then why go?"

The young man shrugged.

"Maybe it helps."

Rick thought about that.

Maybe it helps.

He remembered the council.

The housing program.

The customers standing outside this morning.

The fact that the shop suddenly wasn't empty.

Maybe it wasn't forever.

Maybe it was just one year.

One stupid year.

One year of playing along.

Then life could go back to normal.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.

---

Meanwhile Peter sat alone at the apartment.

The white short-sleeved shirt felt stiff.

The tie hung loose.

His collar was open.

The apartment was quiet except for the turning of pages.

One of the books Daniel had given him lay open in front of him.

Peter had expected nonsense.

Instead he found himself actually reading.

And worse—

paying attention.

One passage caught his eye.

He read it again.

> "Men are, that they might have joy."

He stared at the sentence.

Simple.

Short.

Strangely comforting.

Another passage a few pages later talked about people carrying burdens and finding strength through faith and patience.

Peter leaned back.

The words weren't exactly revolutionary.

But they weren't what he expected either. No burning bush or angles on the clouds.

He rubbed his forehead.

"What the hell."

He closed the book.

Then opened it again.

Then closed it.

Then opened it again.

"Seriously, what the hell."

The doorbell rang.

Peter nearly jumped.

When he opened the door Daniel stood there.

Dark navy suit.

White shirt.

Tie perfectly centered.

Collar completely closed.

Every button exactly where it belonged.

The same neat appearance Peter had seen all day.

Daniel smiled.

"Good afternoon."

Peter stepped aside.

"Come in."

---

A few minutes later they sat at the table.

The book remained open between them.

Daniel noticed it immediately.

"You were reading."

Peter looked away.

"Maybe."

Daniel smiled.

"How was it?"

Peter hesitated.

"I expected worse."

Daniel laughed.

"I'll take that as progress."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Don't get excited."

For a while they talked about the passages.

Then Daniel became quieter.

More serious.

"You know," he said, "I feel better than I ever did before."

Peter looked at him.

Daniel continued.

"I spent years chasing things that made me happy for a few hours."

His hands rested on the table.

"But peace is different."

Peter remained silent.

Daniel stared out the window.

"I never thought I'd have peace."

"What changed?"

Daniel smiled faintly.

"Lots of things. This town needed the change. Even more after the country collapsed."

Then he looked directly at Peter.

"You should pray."

Peter groaned immediately.

"Daniel."

"I'm serious."

"You always are."

"Ask God for a sign."

Peter shook his head, scratching his neck.

Daniel's eyes drifted toward Peter's collar.

The tie.

Loose.

Top button undone.

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

Peter immediately noticed.

"What?"

Daniel pointed.

"Is that appropriate? Is that the best one can do to please God?"

Peter froze.

For several seconds he honestly didn't know what to say.

Finally he answered.

"...No?"

Daniel smiled.

"Then fix it."

Peter sighed dramatically.

"You sound like a school principal."

Daniel laughed.

"I used to do the exact same thing."

Peter looked surprised.

Daniel nodded.

"Whenever Emily wasn't around."

Peter stared.

"What?"

"I'd loosen the tie."

Daniel mimicked the motion.

"Open the collar. Oh how I missed my tank tops."

Peter couldn't help smiling.

Daniel continued.

"Then she'd tell me to fix it."

"And?"

"And eventually I realized it was less exhausting to leave it alone than constantly argue with myself. And Emily."

Peter stared at the tie.

Strangely enough...

that actually made sense. If he's gonna be around those guys, he will never win.

He slowly buttoned the collar.

Then tightened the tie.

The familiar pressure returned.

He hated it.

Yet something unexpected occurred.

A strange relief.

Not comfort.

Not enjoyment.

Just relief.

The decision was gone.

No more constant debate.

No more "should I loosen it?"

No more "what if somebody says something?"

His mind suddenly jumped somewhere unexpected.

The hoodies he loved so much.

The endless shopping.

Matching shoes.

Matching colors.

Trying to look right.

Trying to hide things.

He touched his neck.

Then froze.

"Oh."

Daniel looked at him.

"What?"

Peter blinked.

"I think I know why I liked hoodies."

Daniel waited.

Peter laughed awkwardly.

"This is stupid."

"What?"

"They covered my neck."

Daniel remained silent.

Peter touched his collar again.

"I always thought my neck looked thin. Kids in high school used to make fun of me..."

The realization felt embarrassingly obvious.

"I hated it."

Daniel nodded.

"White shirt is the sign of purity. And the tie can easily work with your self consciousness. Give it a try. I can definitely tell your neck doesn't look that thin anymore!"

Peter laughed again.

"So apparently half my wardrobe decisions were insecurity."

Daniel smiled gently.

"Most people have something. But this sound to me like you found the solution."

---

A little later Daniel folded his hands.

"Let's pray."

Peter sighed.

Again.

But this time he didn't refuse.

They bowed their heads.

Silence filled the room.

Peter closed his eyes.

At first nothing happened.

Just awkwardness.

Then he began thinking.

Dear God...

The words felt strange.

Unnatural.

I don't even know if I'm talking to anyone.

He almost laughed.

I've never really prayed.

Another pause.

Never felt the need.

His breathing slowed.

But why do I feel calmer afterward?

That question lingered.

He remembered one of the passages he had read.

The one about joy.

The one about burdens.

Not proof.

Not certainty.

Just ideas.

Ideas about hope.

About patience.

About enduring difficult things.

Peter suddenly realized something.

Maybe the calm feeling wasn't magic.

Maybe it was simply the first time in years he had sat quietly with his own thoughts.

No phone.

No distractions.

No noise.

Just stillness.

When the prayer ended he opened his eyes.

His shoulders felt lighter.

Not transformed.

Not converted.

Just...

lighter.

Daniel noticed.

"You okay?"

Peter nodded slowly.

"I think so."

---

For a while neither spoke.

Then Peter asked something unexpected.

"Do you miss him?"

Daniel frowned.

"Him?"

"Your old boyfriend."

Daniel immediately corrected him.

"I never had a boyfriend."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

Daniel continued calmly.

"I had attractions."

Peter looked unconvinced.

Daniel continued.

"I had relationships I shouldn't have had."

Silence.

Then Daniel smiled sadly.

"The attractions didn't disappear overnight."

Peter listened.

"But I've found other things that matter more to me."

"The possibility of building a family."

"The peace I feel."

"My faith."

Peter studied him.

Daniel wasn't speaking like someone pretending.

Whether Peter agreed or not—

Daniel genuinely believed it.

Daniel leaned forward.

"Let me ask you something."

Peter groaned.

"That's always dangerous."

Daniel smiled.

"Do you want Rick to be happy?"

Peter answered instantly.

"Of course."

"More than you want to be right?"

Peter stopped.

That question landed harder than expected.

Daniel continued.

"I'm not telling you what your future should look like."

Peter looked skeptical.

Daniel laughed.

"Fine. Maybe I am a little."

That earned another eye roll.

But Daniel's voice remained gentle.

"What I'm saying is that people change. I can see you changing."

Peter stared at the table.

Daniel stood.

The lesson was over.

As he reached the door he looked back.

"Just keep reading."

Peter sighed.

"You're impossible."

Daniel smiled.

"So I've been told."

Daniel suddenly stood up.

"Come here."

He led Peter to the wardrobe, reached inside, and pulled out one of the hoodies.

Holding it up, he asked quietly,

"Is this cheap piece of fabric really more important than you and Rick having a home and moving forward with your lives?"

Peter opened his mouth but couldn't answer immediately.

Daniel handed the hoodie back.

"I'm not asking if you like it. I'm asking if it's worth everything you'd lose for it."

Then he simply walked back toward the living room, leaving Peter staring at the hoodie in his hands.

The door closed behind him.

The apartment became quiet again.

Peter looked at the book.

Then at his tie.

Then back at the book.

He went into bathroom and looked at himself.

For a moment he considered taking the tie off.

Instead he left it where it was. And made it even tighter.

Not because Daniel said so.

Not because he suddenly agreed with everything.

But because for the first time all day...

If you could read Rick's thoughts in that moment, what do you think he'd be thinking?

Helping Around the House

Jordan had just moved into his first apartment, finally getting out of his parent's basement. As much as he was looking forward to his independence, he realized he had taken a lot for granted. For example, the first week after moving in, his toilet started leaking. Jordan's dad usually handled these things, but he wasn't about to call his old man so quickly. Unable to fix it himself, he called up a number for a handyman he saw on flyer in the apartment foyer. "Unity" these guys called themselves, but they offered cheap help for home repair.

Unity sent over a man who called himself 59145, a designation he wore proudly on his uniform coveralls. Jordan figured it was just an old-school plumber uniform, but 59145 informed him that all Unity brothers wore the coveralls. It was their "standard uniform" he said, before smiling and heading to work.

59145 made quick work of the leaky toilet. Jordan was impressed and even offered a tip, but the Unity brother turned him down. Instead he offered an alternative, a brief chat about Order, Discipline, and Clarity. Jordan was not about the say no after such an efficient job. So 59145 spoke about how he joined Unity after he finished college and needed some direction. In Unity he found the support of like-minded brothers and embraced the value of community.

Jordan then came to realize that independence is not really what he was looking for. He was dependent on his parents before but in a brotherhood like Unity he would help support his other brothers too. 59145 invited Jordan to learn more about Unity and by the next month, Jordan had joined as a brother. Now known by 69145, he worked alongside 59145 on plumbing assignments to help recruit new brothers.

Hail Unity!

Note from author: This marks the end of Ethan's story—for now. But don't worry, a new sequel set in the town of Riverdale, taking place alongside Ethan's adventures, is already on the horizon. And who knows? This may not be the last time we see Ethan...

---

When they got inside, the argument didn't last long.

Mark demanded to know what the Moral Guards had taken.

Emily stood silently in the middle of the living room, looking guilty.

Finally she admitted it.

"They found Ethan's sci-fi comics."

Ethan froze.

"What?"

"They said they violated the new family guidelines."

"They were comic books."

"They issued a fine."

Mark closed his eyes.

"A fine? Emily, how much?"

Emily quietly told him.

The room fell silent.

Ethan suddenly understood why both of his parents looked so worried.

"We can't afford that, can we?"

Mark slowly shook his head.

"Not if we want to keep this house."

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Then Emily disappeared upstairs.

When she came back, she was carrying garment bags and cardboard boxes.

She opened them.

Rows of white shirts.

Dark trousers.

Dark ties.

All identical.

Government-approved Family Program clothing.

Ethan stared at them.

"No."

"Ethan—"

"No."

"We need the compliance credits."

"I'm not wearing that."

Emily sat beside him.

"You know how hard your father works."

Ethan looked away.

"You know how much stress he's under."

"Mom—"

"If we don't cooperate, we'll get more fines."

She paused.

"And I don't know what happens then."

Ethan glanced toward Mark.

His father looked exhausted.

For the first time Ethan noticed how tired he really looked.

The fight drained out of him.

An hour later he sat on the edge of his bed while Mark tied a dark tie around his neck.

The collar felt stiff.

The tie felt strange.

The mirror reflected somebody who didn't look like himself anymore.

Then Emily stepped forward holding a small black badge.

"What now?"

She pinned it neatly above his shirt pocket.

Ethan looked down.

ELDER ETHAN.

His stomach sank.

"What is this?"

Emily hesitated.

"The fine can be reduced."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"You've been enrolled in the Moral Guard Youth Organisation."

Ethan stared at her.

"You signed me up?"

Neither parent answered.

That answer was enough.

---

Later that afternoon the doorbell rang.

Ethan opened the door.

For a second he didn't recognize them.

Then he did.

Jacob and Andrew.

His best friends.

He had known them for years.

But now both were dressed exactly like him.

White shirts.

Dark ties.

Black name tags.

Polished shoes.

Each carrying a book.

It was strange seeing familiar faces inside uniforms.

Jacob grinned.

"Took you long enough."

Ethan rolled his eyes and let them inside.

A few minutes later all three were sitting in the living room.

The conversation immediately turned to the new rules.

"This sucks," Ethan said.

Jacob laughed.

"We know."

"Our parents made us dress like this at home too," Andrew added.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Ethan looked relieved.

"So you hate it?"

"We did."

"What changed?"

Andrew shrugged.

"We got bored."

"Bored?"

"Complaining every day gets exhausting."

Jacob nodded.

"So we started trying some of the new Offline Life programs."

Ethan frowned.

"The government ones?"

"Yeah."

"They actually pay people to attend."

Ethan blinked.

"Wait. They pay you?"

"A little."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

Jacob picked up the Book of Mormon from the coffee table.

"Also, have you actually read any of this?"

Ethan laughed.

"No."

"You should."

"It's a religious book."

"So?"

Jacob flipped through a few pages.

Then he started describing wars, rivalries, betrayals, heroes, journeys, and entire civilizations collapsing.

The way he described it sounded more like some huge fantasy saga than a religious text.

Ethan found himself listening despite himself.

"That's actually in there?"

"Yep."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

For the first time Ethan became a little curious.

Not because of the book.

Because Jacob genuinely seemed interested in it.

---

Eventually the conversation shifted.

"The Youth Organisation pays pretty well too," Andrew said.

Ethan sighed.

"Yeah. About that."

Both boys looked at him.

"What?"

"I'm already signed up."

Jacob burst out laughing.

Andrew nearly fell off the couch.

"Welcome aboard, Elder Ethan."

"Don't."

"Elder Ethan."

"Stop."

"Elder Ethan."

Ethan threw a cushion at him.

---

A while later he tugged at his tie.

"I still don't understand something."

"What?"

"How are you comfortable wearing this all the time?"

Jacob shrugged.

"Relaxation sessions."

"The what?"

"'Get Used To Relax.'"

Ethan stared.

"That sounds ridiculous."

"Maybe."

"But it works."

Andrew nodded.

"I used to live in tank tops and jeans."

"And now?"

"I honestly don't even notice this anymore."

Ethan looked skeptical.

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

Jacob pointed at Ethan's collar.

"You'll stop noticing it too."

"I doubt it."

"Come with us tomorrow."

"Where?"

"We've got outreach work."

"What kind of work?"

"Going house to house explaining the family plans."

Ethan groaned.

Then Jacob added:

"And afterwards we're doing a relaxation session."

Ethan looked at his two best friends.

They were still joking.

Still teasing him.

Still acting like themselves despite everything that had changed.

That mattered more than he wanted to admit.

Finally he sighed.

"Fine."

Both immediately smiled.

"You'll come?"

"I'll come."

Jacob leaned back.

"See?"

Andrew smirked.

"You're already getting used to it, Elder Ethan."

"Don't call me like that."

"Oh come on, it's on your name tag isn't it? Elder Ethan?"

Ethan laughed.

A cushion hit him in the face a second later.

The walk to the relaxation session felt strangely normal.

For the first time all day, Ethan wasn't thinking about fines, uniforms, name tags, or Moral Guards.

It was just him, Jacob, and Andrew walking down the sidewalk like they had done a hundred times before.

The only difference was the white shirts, ties, and books tucked under their arms.

The boys joked the entire way.

Jacob complained about having to polish his shoes.

Andrew claimed he had mastered sleeping through the longest morality lectures.

Ethan actually laughed.

Maybe things weren't completely ruined.

Maybe having his friends around made it bearable.

Eventually they reached a small building marked Get Used To Relax – Adjustment Center.

Inside, rows of cushioned chairs faced strange machines.

Headphones hung beside each seat.

"This is it?" Ethan asked.

"Pretty much," Jacob said casually.

The three boys sat down side by side.

An instructor gave a few quiet instructions.

Then everyone put on their headphones.

Soft sounds began playing.

Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

The collar still felt tight against his neck.

The tie still felt strange.

Then the sounds grew slower.

Softer.

Rhythmic.

His eyes became heavy.

The room seemed farther away.

The pressure of the collar faded.

The chair felt warmer.

His thoughts drifted.

The last thing Ethan remembered was seeing Jacob and Andrew sitting beside him with their eyes closed.

Then everything became distant.

And Ethan slipped into a deep, dreamlike trance.

When he woke up, Jacob and Andrew were already adjusting their ties.

"Oh God! You were right, I do feel less uncomfortable."

Jacob smiled and adjusted Ethan's tie.