"Yes, Captain."

"Good. You will follow me now."

You struggle to your feet and follow the captain through the ship. It looks cobbled together out of garbage -- incredibly advanced science fiction garbage, but garbage nonetheless. Metal walls and floors meet plastic ones with no rhyme or reason, and the doors are of multiple shapes, designs and functions.

As you walk, you have time to notice more about your condition. You're not in any serious pain, but you're covered in too many little aches and twinges to even guess at how many things they implanted you with, or where they all are. Your entire body is covered in a thin rubber bodysuit, dulling your sense of touch and preventing you from seeing that they've done. Only your fingers, face and tits, which are much, much larger than you remember them being (almost the size of your head) are free from the rubber. There's also a hole over your cunt, and multiple little tubes and ports all over the suit.

On your right tit is some kind of complicated logo you don't recognise, and on your left, the number 5. Some kind of bulky helmet you can't see is strapped to your head.

The captain opens a beaten-up metal door and waved you through. You step into a large closet containing what looks like five big lockers. The captain slams and locks the door behind you, leaving you in the very dim ambient lighting of the room's emergency guidance strips.

The four lockers labelled 1-4, all of varying sizes, are shut. Locker 5 looks big enough to hold a human, and the door is slightly ajar.