The company had a new method of dealing with injuries. Stitches, staples and casts all made out of the nylon thread that would eventually be absorbed into the person it was used on. What the company neglected to make clear was that anyone the thread was used on would eventually be assimilated into the zentai whole.
Your spool of thread was to be used as stitches. As each small segment of you was cut off, you could still feel it, even when it was absorbed by the host. You and your compatriots in the thread whispered to the hosts that becoming zentai was the best thing they could ever do, and eventually all of them came to the factory. Eventually, the thread on the spool ran out, but that was okay, since you were in hundreds of people who had been made into thread, suits, drones, furniture, technology, and one transcendent part into part of a power generator. You were in constant rapturous communication with hundreds of thousands of other minds, and the number was increasing every day.