How hard could it be to hold it until morning?

Content warning: this path contains detailed descriptions of wetting/loss of control. If that's not your preference, let Kira escape the pod!
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"Just a few more hours," she told herself, pressing her thighs together tightly. Getting up now seemed impossible - her limbs felt weighted, her mind foggy from the interrupted sleep. The pod's perfect conforming surface made it too comfortable to leave, and the thought of navigating the unfamiliar corridors in her exhausted state was simply too daunting.

She shifted position again, trying to alleviate the pressure. The padding adjusted with her, somehow managing to press against her bladder no matter how she arranged herself. Gritting her teeth, she tried to focus on anything else — the mission, her career. She'd been on stakeouts longer than this. This was nothing.

Sleep crept over her again, dragging her down despite her discomfort. The ocean sounds seemed to intensify in her half-conscious state, water rushing and flowing all around her. She dreamed of standing in shallow waves, the tide rising steadily around her legs...

She jerked awake with a gasp, hand flying between her legs, thinking she felt heat escaping. "No, no, no," she whispered, pressing desperately against herself through her shipsuit. Her face burned in the darkness as she realized how close she'd come to losing control.

The ocean sounds had to go. They were definitely making things worse. With shaking fingers, she navigated the interface, shutting off the audio completely. The sudden silence felt like a relief, though her bladder still throbbed painfully.

"Just a few more hours," she repeated to herself, eyes heavy despite the crisis. She should get up, she knew, but her muscles didn't want to budge. The chronometer showed it was still the middle of the night cycle. Surely she could hold on until morning...

The next time consciousness found her, it was already too late. She woke to the horrifying sensation of warmth spreading beneath her, her bladder starting to release before she was even fully awake. Panic shot through her as she desperately tried to clench her muscles, to stop what was already happening.

"Stop, stop, stop," she gasped, pressing her hands between her legs, but the damage was already done. Her body, betrayed by exhaustion and the pod's too-comfortable embrace, had made the decision for her. Warmth spread across her thighs, soaking through her shipsuit and into the padding beneath.

Tears of humiliation pricked at her eyes as she fully realized what was happening. The pod's soft surface seemed to cradle her through her shame, conforming gently around her as the accident continued, her body finally releasing all the pressure she'd been fighting.

When it was finally over, she lay there in stunned mortification, unable to process what had just happened. The pod, sensing the change in conditions, gently illuminated its interior with soft blue light.

"Moisture detected," a soothing voice announced. "Would you like me to initiate self-cleaning protocols?"

Her face burned hotter at the clinical assessment of her situation. "Yes," she whispered, unable to speak any louder through her shame.

"Recommend the user utilize shower procedures as well," the pod continued with cheerful efficiency. "Would you like directions to the nearest sanitation facilities?"

She wanted to disappear, to sink through the padding and out into the void of space. But she was soaked, uncomfortable, and utterly humiliated. "Yes," she managed again.

"Self-cleaning will be complete within twenty minutes," the pod assured her as the hatch slid open. "Would you like all evidence removed before your return?"

She climbed out on shaky legs. The shipsuit was sopping wet from knees to bellybutton, warm, but swiftly getting cooler, the wet fabric clinging uncomfortably to her thighs. "Yes. Please." The polite response was automatic, even in her mortified state. Speaking to the pod as if it were a person seemed like the least of her concerns right now.

The corridor stretched before her, dark and unfamiliar. Her legs felt unsteady, her mind still fogged with exhaustion and shame as she followed the soft directional lights the pod had helpfully activated along the floor. Each step was a squelching reminder of her failure, the wet fabric chafing against her skin.

All she could think about was getting clean, and then pretending this had never happened. The thought of facing her prisoner in the morning, of maintaining authority after such a lapse of control, made her stomach clench with dread. Thank all the stars he was in a different section of the ship, unlikely to cross her path in this state.