Potato Head
Its early life had been darkness and the press of the growth substrate. It had fed and communicated through the organic tube attached at the back of its neck. Sometimes the substate grew damp and clammy, sometimes if dry cracks opened, letting in a faint patchy light from above.
Then, it is tossed to the surface, blinking under a bright sky, naked and awkward under the gaze of the military general. The general snorts disdainfully.
“Look lively lad, you're a Sontaran now”
prompt courtesy of @ewdocparris@writing.exchange