Here on Ibitus 412N (Part 1)

The urine comes out of us now like a thick, syrupy concoction one might find at the PX for the purpose of alleviating a bad cough or something.

When we piss it's not even like it used to be. It's more forced and it actually takes a lot of stomach muscle to get our fluid waste to leave our bodies. But that's how they want it. Evidently, and for reasons beyond us, this...solution...coming out of our dicks is like gold to them. Interestingly, it doesn't even resemble gold or even yellow as it once did. It's a purplish, tarry kind of color and my god does it smell. I'd liken the smell to a cross between rubber cement and menthol cigarettes. It's very strange.

They feed us 'the powder' every hour on the hour. The stuff actually tastes kind of good, like the meal substitute pastes you can get on Zalhfar (though not exactly). Perhaps they engineered it so it would be easy for us to like? Who knows. What's most interesting about what they're feeding us is that it doubles as hydration. The moment the powder (also called 'fluff' by some of the others) hits the tongue, it kind of multiplies itself into about four times its volume in fluid. For instance, it only takes about a teaspoon of fluff to get a whole mouthful of watery sustenance. And it goes down easy.

We don't feel hungry. It's the most bizarre situation I could have ever expected to find myself and my men in. Here we are, isolated and contained on Ibitus 412N and we're basically being used as catalysts for some kind of chemical conversion of fluff to, what we would call, piss.
And boy, do they cherish every drop. They monitor us so closely that if even a drop of our urine gets on our hands or on a wall of this cell, it's instantly contained and somehow added to the accumulated stash. We imagine they've got hundreds of gallons of it by now, the bastards. I mean, what kind of alien race kidnaps humans and contains them for the sole purpose of collecting their pee?

It's a good thing we were able to keep our personal effects during our processing. Though we're undoubtedly prisoners, we're at least being granted some of the comforts of home like this tablet I'm writing on and the keepsakes my team likes to have around. One of them even managed to smuggle in a few vials of High Serum. We've been having a good time with that, but only occasionally. We don't know how long we're going to be here and my distress beacons aren't being returned.
I'm feeling the urge to pass some of this shit through again so I'm going to have to wrap this up.

I'll write more when I can.

Astron, out.