Alice's life sucked. First the accidents, then the demotions, and then her close encounter with being trashed... Life just wasn't worth living. She'd tried to sign up for meal duty to be rid of it, but the computer wouldn't accept her signature with her left hand.
Alice would have kicked herself, if she'd had legs below the knee to do it with. It wasn't like she could do her job badly to get fired, either; her job was now to crawl around the hallways being fucked by random crewmembers. Even the farm was better, not that she could go back there now. No, without legs, she'd just drown in the slurry.

The routine continued for a few weeks. Wake up, wash as best she could, crawl out the door, and start her rounds, eat whatever slop she could call up from a dispenser without her right handprint, crawl back to her room. Most days she even made it back before the sleep hours started and she passed out, as per the conditioning.
Yesterday had not been one of those days. And, worse, someone had loaded her onto a cleaning cart to use her during their morning duties. She woke up as she was rolled off the cart, dumped aside in a hallway she didn't recognise. She groaned, righting herself with the help of a conveniently-located pipe. The location was convenient, at least; the burn that now covered most of her hand from the heat of the pipe? Not so much. As she sat there, soaking the burn in the cum liberally flowing from between her legs (there was just so much of it these days), the ship resonated with a clang, shuddering. Alice perked up; she'd heard about that noise. Docking! A shame she didn't know where she was.
No matter; she was able to follow the general rush towards the authorised exit. She didn't even get stepped on too much, although her tits still hurt from where someone had stood on them while waiting for a grav-lift. When the crowds passed, she at least could follow the signs on the wall for the relevant airlock.

The airlock was locked open, thankfully, since she didn't have enough hands to open one. She crawled out over the treshhold; no point going back for her stuff. She couldn't find her room anyway, and the bag of trinkets from home was worthless out here. But still, she was free! Free! Her contract was up, and her account had been credited with her back pay from the journey! She crawled over to a terminal to check it, gazing into the laser scanner even as the light hurt her eyes. After blinking away the after-images, she focused on her balance.
Oh.
Oh shit.
A summary brought up a list of transactions; surgery bills, wear to equipment, fines for destruction of company property, water bills, food bills (which thankfully had stopped appearing after she was reduced to dole slpp)... Even rent on her room! The bastards had taken damn near everything. All she had was a womb full of sperm, and barely enough credits to get a transport card to get away from the airlock and to public housing.

Oh, wow. Public really meant public. After having her holes pumped out (some of it was really valuable, apparently), she was still reduced to living in a communal floordorm. Which was a fancy way of referring to a patch of padded flooring between buildings. At least she'd been able to register as a whore, so people were dissuaded from raping her due to the price tags tattooed on her butt.
The downside of that was that, as a whore, she could no longer legally BE raped by a paying customer. At least she was used to it by now, even if the gruelslop barely tasted better than what they fed the splicecows back home...