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So if you haven’t played Prey, I dunno what you’re doing with your life, but you’re doing it wrong. There were several moments in the game where, considering I nearly wet myself just playing it, I thought it was impossible someone really in that situation wouldn’t have lost control of themselves. If this turns out well, I might do some other stories of a similar theme, and maybe some more Prey ones. And fear not, this fic will be almost completely spoiler free. All major scenes, twists, events, and so on, will not be spoiled. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated. I know it’s a bit shorter than what I usually post, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ----------------------------------------------------------- Talos 1 Lobby, 2035 Morgan Yu peered as slowly and carefully through the large doorway as she could. Considering the mutilated human corpse she found just a short distance behind her, she wasn’t taking any chances. The Typhon were lethal and merciless, and they could be anywhere. Wrench in hand, Morgan slowly walked through the doorway, and entered the lobby. A massive window to her right constituted the wall of the space station. The area around was lavish and lovingly furnished, but for the moment she was captivated by the sight of Earth as it took up a good portion of her view out the window. She walked forward, stopping at a table with some snacks and water bottles on it, still admiring the view of her home. Her quiet moment of reflection was rudely interrupted as she heard a very sudden rustling from behind her. Raising her wrench to strike, she whipped around, and wasn’t surprised when there were no enemies to strike. Instead, she saw only an apple on the ground, lazily rolling towards her feet. She was not fooled, however. Raising the wrench high in the air, she slammed it down, towards the apple. Unsurprisingly, the apple was suddenly engulfed in black smoke as the four-legged beast shifted into its true form, a Mimic. They were spider-like creatures composed of hundreds of little black tendrils. This one wasn’t going to be making a meal out of Morgan today, as she deftly smashed the wrench into the creature, causing to explode into several bits and lots of black goo. She reeled a bit. The Typhon were great at messing with people’s heads, and even the humble Mimic was no different. Upon seeing them transform, it always hurt her head and eyes a bit. As she groaned in pain and rubbed her temples lightly, Morgan became conscious of the fact that she needed the restroom. All the running around, wrench-swinging, and alien battling she’d been doing had worn her out, and she’d been drinking a ton of water she’d found in order to keep hydrated. And now that was coming back to bite her. She sighed in annoyance. They never show in movies or videogames that you still have to go to the bathroom, even if you’re an action hero. Her annoyance about quadrupled when she also felt the need to get rid of the other kind of waste present itself. She had a station to save, she couldn’t lose so much time just to go to bathroom! Of course, the obvious alternative was to just… go. To go to the bathroom in her suit. As compelling as the thought of saving time was, it most certainly was not worth the humiliation of wetting and soiling herself. As something in the room to her left very suddenly and very quickly shifted position, she wondered if she’d really have a choice in the matter, as the damned Typhon might just scare it out of her before she even reaches the bathroom. She moved to the right, giving the now suspect room a wide berth. Morgan continued walking throughout the lobby, suddenly very paranoid of the large open space it presented. So many corners… so many places for things to hide. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, yet her blood ran cold. So many things around her seemed to be changing position. Any random thing she walked by could be her death. Her control faltered in her paranoid state, and she was vaguely conscious of the fact that she was dribbling into her red boxers. The crotch of her underwear darkened as it met with her urine, and she could feel a few wet trails racing down her thighs. Fortunately, her rubbery suit would show no trace of her leaking. Morgan slowed her breathing, and tried to remain calm. The Typhon mess with people’s heads, and right now, they were getting into hers. After calming down, she looked around again, and noted that everything seemed to be in order, more or less. If there were more Mimics, they weren’t right next to her, at least. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her eyes widened when she noticed the cooling wetness on her crotch. She clamped her thighs together, attempting to hold the rest of her urine. She needed a bathroom, and now. Scanning the room, her prayers were answered as she saw a sign labelling a nearby hallway as the bathroom she was after. Taking one last look around her for any Typhon aliens, she rushed towards the God-sent hallway. Curiously, the entrance to one of the restrooms was barricaded by large crates. Conveniently, it was the men’s restroom. Of course, she didn’t think anyone was going to scold for using the wrong toilet at this point, anyway. She entered the ladies’ room, and could feel her bladder and bowels nearly give out in relief. She slid open the door to one of the stalls, and smiled gratefully when she saw this one was stocked with extra toilet paper. She reached for the zipper on the front of her suit, and suddenly made a realization, as the Mimic that was masquerading as the spare paper lunged at her. She only barely managed to swing the wrench fast enough to stop the alien mid-jump. It skittered away, and hopped up onto the counter, preparing its front legs to strike. Morgan made sure it never got that chance, and crushed it under her trusty wrench. Her swing was powerful enough to crack the counter the Mimic was on. As Morgan panted, trying to catch her breath, her attention immediately snapped to her decreasing need to use the restroom. It took her a moment to realize that the scare the Mimic gave her had startled her into… going in her suit. The wet stain on the crotch of her boxers had rapidly expanded, and the stain travelled down both legs. Small rivers of hot urine now poured past the cuffs of her underwear, racing down her legs and filling her boots. She firmly planted her hands in her crotch, attempting to regain control, but by the time she did, most of the damage was done. She also became aware of the load that now occupied the back of her red boxers. She had even pooped her pants, she was so startled. Her mess weighed down her underwear, and she could feel it pressing up against her bottom. And the worst part was: She wasn’t done. She sighed, and, with tears just beginning to form in her eyes, resigned herself to just finishing now, in her clothes. She already had to clean up, anyway. She spread her legs, and released her hold on her pee. Her privates were suddenly warmed, and she felt much smaller rivulets than before streaming down her thighs, then past her knees, then into her boots. Her hands were still hovering over her crotch, and through her suit, they could feel the heat and vibrations caused by the urine impacting the suit. Now for the rest… she thought, as she squatted down. She could feel the mess that was already present be squished against a little as she did so. She scrunched her face, and pushed. Her mess came out, slow and steady. It met the existing load, and caused her underwear to bulge out far, then her suit to bulge out as the underwear made contact with it. She could feel her boxers growing heavier and heavier, and was beginning to lament her decision to not just finish in the toilet. The mess was downright huge, and she worried about her underwear's ability to hold all of it. She reached a hand back and felt the end result. It was a lot. Even though her thick, concealing jumpsuit, it would be completely obvious she'd voided her bowels on herself. After another moment of pooping herself, she was done. She sighed in embarrassment, her cheeks burning. As she prepared to stand up, a loud, distorted human voice yelled something near the entrance to the bathroom. Morgan slipped, and found herself recoiling in disgust as she fell on her rear, smushing her mess under her. She could feel it smooth and flatten out, covering her backside. The urine that was still trapped in her suit levelled out as she changed position, some of it returning to her thighs. As she sat there, she didn’t know if she was grateful or not that her puddle and mess were confined to her suit. She gave herself a quick little slap to her face, and bolted upright. What was she doing?! An alien might be right behind her, and she’s too busy feeling sorry for herself to notice! Coming to her senses, she grabbed her wrench, and slowly looked out the doorway into the lobby. A strange, human-shaped figure was wandering towards the bathroom area. It seemed to be made of the same black tendrils that comprised the Mimics. Despite everything she’d just been through, she somehow found herself leaking even more pee into her suit, but she no longer cared. As she waited, her back to the wall, the creature seemed to lose interest, and turned around. She released a pent-up breath. As long as it didn’t come back, she figured she should have a couple of minutes to clean herself up, then hopefully save the entire station. Assuming she could refrain from doing something like this again. Funny, out of all the terrible things that happened to her today, she couldn’t decide what was the worst: the alien invasion, or her complete accident. It would take some time to come up with an answer.