"...and, unlocked!" Misha said triumphantly as she finally undid the last lock to the factory. She swung the door open and, getting through the cobwebs and dust, snuck in. The flashlight on the top of her head turned on and it gave her a moment to look around the surroundings.
    This was certainly an abandoned factory. The question was where the victim, Poppy, was being kept. Hopefully she was still alive. Her family was quite concerned for her wellbeing. When Poppy said she was going to see a haunted doll factory, no one took her seriously until she got up and left. And afterwards, she never came back. In her many years of being a private investigator, Misha had met many upset and teary families and loved ones. Usually she could find them. She was good. But it took a while to track down the factory. Just from a cursory glance, it was quite large.
    Misha wasn't afraid, though. She'd been in a number of dark basements and haunted houses and presumably cursed buildings. She had tough skin. All that was left was to scour the place for any hidden closets and find Poppy. Misha opened a few closets that were unlocked, finding nothing but more cobwebs. It was completely abandoned.
    Eventually, Misha made it to the main factory area. Unsurprisingly, the light did not work. But as soon as she stepped in, a million red dots began glowing. Growing larger and larger, they quickly lit up the whole room in a dark, ambient red wash.
    "What the--" Misha gasped as she whipped around to examine the new surroundings. She immediately found the source of the lights.
    Collars.
    On dolls.
    No. They weren't dolls. They were people. They were breathing, mouths slightly agape with drool running down their chins. All these dolls -- various genders, but mostly women -- were all stripped completely naked. Some of the collars read words like "use me" or "pleasure doll". And, most scarily, some of the dolls were missing -- signs reading "in usage" in their place. Misha quickly realized why this factory was deemed haunted.
    And then she turned around and saw something scarier.
    The naked, drooling, barely breathing figure of Poppy. Her eyes were half open and tilted towards the ground. The collar on her neck read "good dolly".
    "Fuck, shit, let's go," Misha exhaled as she tried to move Poppy's body from the shelf. Instantly, an alarm went off.
    Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, Misha felt herself tearing up. No, this was not how she was going to die -- or worse. Poppy's body moved, still tranced and hypnotized, and jumped on Misha. Misha didn't have a second to react. As soon as she realized what happened, she was pinned down by Poppy's hands and legs.
    "Good dolls obey. Good dolls are useful. Good dolls obey. Good dolls are useful," Poppy repeated over and over, as if it were some kind of mantra.
    "P-Poppy! Please listen to me!" Misha pleaded. "Your friends and family are looking for you! Let me get that collar--"
    Misha reached for the collar around Poppy's neck, but there seemed to be no clasp or anything on it. It was not removable. The red light flashed in Misha's eyes, and soon she saw a spiral coming from it. A slow, entrancing, soothing spiral.    
    "No! G-get off of me!" Misha cried. Another doll began to follow Poppy, reaching for the top of the shelf and sure enough -- pulling down a spare collar of the same variety.
    "Good dolls obey. Good dolls are useful." Poppy continued the mantra, then another doll did, and slowly, the entire factory was repeating the mantra. Between the chanting, and the spirals, and Misha's unhinged fear, she felt herself beginning to lose consciousness.
    Misha continued to struggle. Another doll knelt down and lifted Misha's head off the ground. Misha began to feel the collar -- reading "use my holes" -- clasp around her neck.
    "N-no! Fuck off! Get away from--"
    Click!
    The collar clasped in place.
    Misha continued trying to resist, but it was a futile effort. Her mind slowly shut down, seeing the spiral, repeating the mantra inside of it. Misha's body stopped struggling. She felt herself repeat: "good dolls obey. Good dolls are useful."
    Her mind wiped. She was a good doll now.
    The dolls returned to their shelves, one by one. As did Misha, now a good doll as well.
    What felt like years later, a door opened. A tall lady in a suit eyed Misha with a wicked, devious smirk. Quickly, she attached a leash to Misha's collar and said gently:
    "You're going to make a fine plaything for me, dolly."