Try to get more sleep

You lie on the grate and try to go back to sleep.

It's basically impossible, between the cold air, the uncomfortable, grate, the pale green light below and the pain in your ass. You drift in and out for about half an hour before you're woken by somebody grabbing your ankle and dragging you out of the cage.

"Good morning, Dreg! Do humans always sleep this much, or did we just wear you out?" Tortik pats your ass. "Don't worry, we'll try to ease up a bit, at least until you heal. Of course, you're not exactly making that easy." Tortik does something to the plug in your ass and yanks it out; intense pain, followed by aching relief. "I'm supposed to bring you right to the kitchen but... ah, fuck it, one for the road." They lift you up and impale your cunt on their erection, then press you back against the cage bars and start thrusting.

You're still raw from yesterday, and full of cramped and aching muscles. There's nothing you can do but ride it out as your crewmate forces you up and down on their cock for a good twenty minutes before shuddering and filling you with yet more cum.

"Alright, Dreg, let's go." Tortik tosses you over one shoulder and carries you through the ship.

The narrow, rickety corridors make the simple open space and plastic flooring of the bedroom look luxurious; the walls are thin metal, and rattle when tapped. A couple of corridors bring you to the kitchen door, which Tortik shoves you through before wandering off. The mess of last night's activities has been cleaned up, but you have bad memories of this place.

Two flimsy metal tables sit in front of long benches that have been bolted into the wall. They're identical; you can't tell which one you were on last night. At the far end of the room is the kitchen part; cupboards of food and a large contraption that is probably some kind of oven, though it's hard to be sure.

Kistel, who you can easily distinguish from the rest of the crew because they're so huge, is sitting at a table, talking to Maive. They look up and grin. "Dreg! Let's get some food into you. You need the energy after that performance last night!" They head to the cupboards and pull something out, slamming it directly onto the table -- Chullians haven't heard of plates, apparently. It looks like some kind of fibrous meat, very overcooked, and smells incredibly gamey.