Chapter 76: Iowa Class Happytimes
Support carrier Shinano hugged herself under the warm spray of the shower, letting the crisp, clear droplets wash away the last bits of oil dock water clinging to her skin. She almost didn't care that she had to sit on her knees to stay under the shower head, it felt so… right against her bare skin.
The water washed over her back, forming little rivers in the valleys between her muscles and pooling around her legs. She knew she wasn't fit to fight—her crew were still getting reamed out by one of Akashi's red-faced fae. But she was feeling better. She felt her crew—under the watchful eyes of Akashi's teams—working away.
Tiny pinpricks of heat from their welding torches tickled the insides of her flanks and thighs. She felt herself grow stronger as her watertight bulkheads were shored up until they were worthy of the name. She felt like… not a proper carrier. But at least a proper warship.
And then she glanced down at her bulging breasts and sniffled. She hated them, giant fleshy reminders of her past. She wasn't a carrier, not really. She was a hurriedly done, half-assed conversion of an obsolete battleship. An act of desperation borne of the need for anything with a deck.
Shinano slouched her shoulders, squeezing herself as tight as she could. A quiet mopey whimper slipped though her lips, and the giant carrier slumped against the tiled shower hall.
"Um, Shinano?" Ryuujou's gentle accent wafted though the steam-heavy air. Shinano hated being naked around a proper carrier like her, but she couldn't bear to be alone. "Ya doing okay, hun?"
Shinano sniffed, and nodded glumly. She heard the other shower shut off, then a gentle patter of bare feet against slick tile. The soft footsteps of a carrier who carried one more plane for one-seventh the displacement.
"Anything I can do for ya?" Ryuujou crouched down on her haunches, and gently placed one hand around the converted carrier's massive neck.
"Stay here," Shinano let herself slump against Ryuujou, her head smashing into her deck with a soft squish.
Ryuujou coughed at the impact, her feet sliding across the slick floor as Shinano's massive weight overcame her meager horsepower.
"S-sorry," Shinano blushed a brilliant red and tried to make herself small again.
Ryuujou waved a hand dismissively, bruises forming on her heaving chest as she struggled to get her wind back.
Shinano quivered, her gaze going slack as she stared at her reflection in the tile. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Izzawwwrit," said Ryuujou with what little lung capacity she'd regained control over. She clutched at her chest and hissed out a cry of pain as softly as she could manage.
"I'll…" Shinano's voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the patter of water hitting her skin, "I'll be more careful."
Ryuujou eased herself back onto her feet, and gave the converted carrier's head a gentle kiss. "I'm sure ya will, Shina."
"Shina?" Shinano cocked her head to the side.
"Yeah," Ryuujou hurriedly wrapped a towel around herself. Her chest might be covered in bruises, but she didn't have to let Shinano know that, "It's a nickname."
Shinano just tilted her head a bit more.
"You know," Ryuujou tugged at her towel to make sure it covered her properly, "People give 'em to people they like."
It took Shinano a moment to process that. Then her face blushed even redder, and a smile crept across her chubby cheeks that even her timidness couldn't fully subdue. "Thank you, Ryuujou."
"Anytime, hun." Ryuujou smiled and tossed the giant support carrier a towel. After a moment's contemplation of Shinano's enormous figure, she tossed another one over. "Now let's get dressed."
"Okay," Shinano hurriedly tied one towel around her chest—squishing down her breasts as best she could—and patted herself dry with the other. Everything went smoothly until the two girls reached the locker rooms.
"Um…" Shinano awkwardly held a long strip of cloth between her fingers. "Um, Ryuujou?"
"Huh?" Ryuujou glanced over with one eyebrow cocked at the ready.
"You wouldn't know how to tie sarashi?" Shinano offered a timidly hopeful smile, "would you?"
"Sorry, hun," Ryuujou patted her own flat chest, "Never had the need."
"Oh," Shinano's shoulders slumped, and her towel almost gave way. "S-sorry."
"Tell you what," Ryuujou pulled her cap on and spun it around with a flourish. "I'm sure someone here does, I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
Shinano nodded, and slouched back against her locker with a quiet "Mmmfh."
Ryuujou darted though the light carrier locker rooms, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in focus.
She was pretty sure Shinano wouldn't want CarDiv1 to know about her inexperience, but that didn't really matter. According to Janes', Akagi and Kaga wore fitted bras, not traditional sarashi—something that surprised Ryuujou when she first learned about it. But considering their topside displacement, it made a fair bit of sense.
The light carrier darted from bay to bay, sticking her head into the semicircle of lockers just long enough to check for any occupants before she dashed to the next one. After two empty bays, she found her first potential lead.
Many shipgirls had certain rituals they liked to perform after finishing a full docking. Kaga was infamous for sitting serenely on her feet and sharpening her sword while intently staring into this horizon. The Akatsuki sisters would discuss whatever shenanigans they had planned for the day, and Ashigara would give herself a 'you're hot, the boys want you' pep-talk when she thought people weren't looking.
Not all of the rituals were so solemn.
"Woohoo~~!" a very drunk, very naked Jun'You giggled from the middle of the floor. A bone-dry bottle of sake bounced between her breasts—breasts that looked roughly on par with Shinano's pair, at least considering how much tinier the light carrier was. "Jun'You is out of the dock! WOOHOO!"
Ryuujou smiled, and scuffed her toe against an empty locker. "Jun'you?"
The drunk carrier glanced over, that impossibly spiky hair going every which way. "Oh," she thought for a second. "Heyyyyyy, Ar-Jaaaaay~" she fished a fresh bottle of Sake out of… somewhere, "Wanna jo-" she hiccuped, "-join?"
"I'm good," Ryuujou smiled at the happy light carrier. "I need your help though."
"Hmm…" Jun'You put a finger to her lips, the bottle between her breasts firmly wedging in place with the motion. "What with?"
"You're pretty…" Ryuujou hovered her hands well over her chest, drawing out the shape of invisible boobs.
"Heh," Jun'You giggled, and glanced down at her upperworks, "Innit I?"
Ryuujou rolled her eyes. "You know how to tie sarashi?"
Jun'You shook her head, that magnificent mane of hers continuing to sway for a good minute afterwards. "Nah, sorreh!" She patted her curvy figure, "Imma bra girl. When I'm not free-boobehen." She smiled, and started humming a passable approximation of Skynyrd's Freebird.
"Okay," Ryuujou sighed, "Thanks for the help."
"Nooooooo problemah~" Jun'You upended her bottle and got most of the content to splash in a generally mouthwardsly direction. "Should ask Mamaboat though, she'd know."
Ryuujou kicked herself for that. Of course Houshou'd know what to do! She always did.
—|—|—
Support carrier Shinano hugged her legs to her chest and sank into the corner of her shower. The slick wet tile felt cold against her bare skin, and the last drops of soapy water squished between her toes.
She liked the corner. The corner was her friend. It was something to lean on—or at least against—when she was feeling down. Which… to be really honest, was most of the time. Akashi's fairies were still screaming at her poor damage control teams, but Shinano couldn't really blame them.
She was supposed to be a bastion. An unsinkable auxiliary darting behind the lines handing out planes and fuel to the battle weary real carriers who needed it. And now she learned she was so poorly built an angry enough swordfish could probably sink her.
And not the British torpedo bomber either. An actual swordfish.
Shinano shoved her face into chest and sniffled. Why couldn't she be like Musashi or Yamato. They went down fighting, they endured scores of torpedoes and bombs. They didn't sink because of shoddy workmanship and bungling damage control.
The support carrier squeezed herself deeper into the corner. Part of her wanted to just melt away, at least then she wouldn't be such a huge drain on her country. But… but they'd asked her back for a reason. They were desperate, they needed her.
Shinano couldn't let them down. Any country desperate enough to want her help didn't have an inch of slack to work with. The pressure rested in her broad shoulders like a yoke, crushing her until she felt sure her keel was going to snap.
She fumbled out for the faucet, turning on a trickling stream of chilly water and hoping it'd hide the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Shinano-chan?"
Shinano let out an eep of fright and tried to squish herself even deeper into the corner. But her feet lost purchase on the soapy tile and fell out from under her. With so much of her weight resting against the wall, Shinano went skidding across the floor until she was spread-eagle on her back.
With her very battleship like chest exposed for all the world to see.
In front of Houshou.
Shinano blushed a brilliant scarlet and flailed her quivering limbs in a frantic attempt to cover her shame. Exposed as the half-assed conversion she was in front of The carrier! "H-h-h-"
"Houshou," the old carrier offered a calming smile, her gaze never once wandering from Shinano's increasingly red face.
"Houshou-dono," Shinano scrambled back to her corner with a timid whimper. "I- I didn't-"
"Easy, child." Houshou smiled that good-natured smile, and Shinano felt her her heart-rate drop by a few hundred RPMs. Or maybe that was her turbines. Whatever it was, the support carrier wasn't feeling quite so terrified anymore.
"S-sorry," Shinano stared at her toes and sniffled.
Houshou just offered a kind smile and settled down on her knees. "Now, I hear you wear sarashi?"
Shinano managed a timid nod.
"That's wonderful!" Houshou beamed with kindness, "there's not many who still follow the old ways."
"'s…" Shinano glanced down at her stupidly overgrown battleship chest. "'s not for… um.. that."
"Oh honey," Houshou leaned over to give the gigantic support carrier a hug. Her arms were barely long enough to get around the much larger girl's back, but Houshou hugged with all the energy she could muster regardless.
Shinano felt her lips twist into a tiny glimmer of a smile, despite her apparently miserable mood. "T-thanks, Houshou-dono."
"Of course," Houshou let go. "No, come out here where I can see you."
"Uh," Shinano scooted away from her friendly corner and sat on her knees like Houshou. She kept her arms firmly planted over her bosom though, she… she couldn't bring herself to reveal her shame. "Uh, okay."
"Mmm," Houshou chuckled and patted the muscle of Shinano's massive thigh. "Carriers sure have grown big and strong since my time."
Shinano blushed beet red. "T-thank you, Houshou-dono." She bowed deeply from the waist, overbalanced, and ended up face-planting in the much smaller carrier's lap.
To her credit, a sharp intake of breath was the only sign of pain Houshou allowed herself to express. But Shinano knew the old carrier had to be aching. She was not a light girl.
"S-sorry," Shinano stammered as she collected herself.
Houshou shook her head, though her face was a tight-lipped mask of suppressed pain.
Shinano whimpered and tried not to cry.
Finally, Houshou gathered herself enough to speak once more. "There there, honey." The old carrier scooted a bit closer to the quivering conversion, but her actions were far more careful and guarded than a few moments before. "It happens to the best of us."
Shinano didn't say a word, she could barely manage a timid nod.
"Now then," Houshou gently tried to pry loose Shinano's death grip on her own breasts, "Let's see what we're working with."
Shinano couldn't expose herself. Not like this, not in front of the first real carrier. But… but she could, maybe, allow her grip to slacken just enough for Houshou to do the work.
"Oh my," Houshou's jaw went slack as Shinano's full figure was finally exposed in all its shameful fullness. The support carrier blushed as her bulging breasts displayed her battleship heritage for all the world to see.
"I know," mumbled Shinano.
"Well," Houshou fished a long roll of fine linen from her kimono. A really long roll. "We'd best get to work then."
Shinano held her arms over her head to keep them out of the way, and tried very hard to go to her happy place. She closed her eyes and thought very hard about her bed. She tried to feel the warmth of her covers, and the comforting embrace of White's snuggles.
Shinano'd never met her real big sisters, but she liked to think White counted as one.
"Um, Houshou-dono?" Shinano shuffled on her knees and glanced over at the older carrier standing on tip-toes to bind her sarashi.
"Hmm?" Houshou offered a kind smile while her hands deftly tucked and folded linen over Shinano's overdeveloped upperworks.
"Will…" Shinano bit her lip. "Um… will you be my mama?"
Houshou wrapped the giant support carrier in the kindest hug she could manage. "I'd be honored."
—|—|—
Jersey should be happy.
It was a gorgeous mid-winter day. The crisp, salt-tinged air blew though her hair like a lover's fingers. The sea kissed her hull with its gently rolling waves. The smell of fresh-baked scones wafted from Kongou's wake—along with the sound of gentle dessing rolling along the waves. And the battleship could almost taste the pies waiting for her just a few dozen miles away.
But she wasn't happy, and it wasn't just because of the depressingly empty status of her stomach. In fact, all the space created by missing food in her stomach had been gobbled up by innumerable butterflys.
She could feel them flitting around inside of her, tickling her insides with the tips of their wings and bashing against her organs in the darkness of her inner spaces. Either that, or she was letting a metaphor run away with her again.
But it didn't change the fact that Jersey was getting worried. A worry that only grew sharper with each passing mile, a worry that twisted her heart into a modern art sculpture of steel and blood.
A worry even staring intently at Musashi's jiggling pagodas couldn't assuage. And she hadtried. She even had a fairly detailed sketch in her logbook, as well as a few extrapolations of what Musashi might look like without those bandages. For intelligence reasons, of course.
Jersey scowled, the muscles in her massive legs going taut with a shiver. Her hands shook at her sides, and her mouth felt dry and cottony.
"Fuck," she breathed. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck."
Musashi glanced over, and for a split-second Jersey thought the Japanese super-battleship was going to preen herself for attention again. But Musashi's chocolate face dimmed before her hands even reached her bust, and a worried glance flashed over her face.
She pursed her lips, and turned back to the forested hills lining the strait.
"Jersey-sempai?" Fubuki pulled up alongside the giant American, her little ponytail flitting with worry in the gentle breeze.
"Hey, kiddo," Jersey forced a smile, "what's up?"
Fubuki shrugged. "Are you okay?"
Jersey opened her mouth, but she couldn't find anything to say. What, the big bad battleship was scared to go home? What kind of fucking weak-ass shit was that? Eventually, she settled on a non-committal "yeah."
Fubuki didn't seem impressed. For a moment, the little destroyer just scuffed her heels in the surf and sailed lazy s-curves beside the giant battleship. "Um, Jersey-sempai?"
"Whadup?"
"You know, um…" Fubuki glanced past Jersey's slender curves to Musashi's gigantic bulk, "You don't need to worry. It's not forbidden anymore."
Jersey blinked, "I don't follow."
"Girls…" Fubuki blushed, and her foghorns let out an involuntary squeal. "Your navy. They don't forbid, um… love."
Jersey blinked again. "The fuck you talking about?"
"Love!" squealed the little destroyer. "You don't have to worry! You can love Musashi-sama!"
The universe crashed to a halt. Even the waves themselves seemed to stand still while they processed that. From the head of the formation, Kongou slowly tilted her head to the side and brought a lone finger to her lips.
"Wut?" she elucidated.
Musashi stifled a giggle.
Jersey's face turned a glowing beet red.
Yuudachi glanced back with a confused "poi?"
Frisco doubled over laughing.
"Okay, first of all," Jersey slowly raised her hands, middle fingers standing at full attention. "Fuck all of you in general."
"Dess?"
"Yes, even you, sconeboat," Jersey scowled. "I'm not fucking in love with bigtits McShamefru Dispray over here."
Musashi puffed out her chest with a pout.
"Fuck you," Jersey couldn't muster the energy to do anything more than growl at her. "I… fucking…" She crossed her arms with a huff. "I'm fucking stressed right now and I don't fucking know why, so shut it."
The rest of the fleet quietly resumed their formation. Musashi even stopped preening herself in Jersey's peripheral vision, and sheepishly zipped her cape back into a proper shirt. A shirt she could only generously be considered to fit into, even with the zipper undone almost to the base of her bustline, but a shirt. With Musashi, you take what you can get.
A few thousand yards ahead of Jersey, Frisco and Yuudachi resumed their conversation. The battleship didn't have the slightest idea what they were talking about, their frantic moon-runes came far too fast for Jersey's feeble grasp of Japanese to keep pace with.
Plus, Yuudachi only even used moon-runes for about a tenth of her conversation. The rest was poiing, energetic hand gestures, and energetic hand gestures while poiing.
Somehow, Frisco managed to understand the blond destroyer without missing a beat.
Stupid… Asian boat magic.
Jersey growled. Her temper was explosive at the best of times, and this… fucking… whatever the fuck it was had her teetering on edge. She honestly didn't know if she wanted to kill something or cry. And that just made her even more frustrated.
The battleship was so angry at herself she lost track of her surroundings. Her hull steamed on autopilot though the islands of the Puget Sound and up to the waiting pier of NAVSTA Everett while she stewed in her own discomfort. She only noticed where she was when the waiting concrete structure loomed into her sight.
And the figure waiting for her on its tip. The professor. Her Professor.
Jersey was nothing more than a spectator for the actions of her own body. She couldn't have stopped herself even if she tried, and she was too damn tense to even do that.
Her shoes hit the concrete with a squelch of wet canvas. Her reality faded around her until only the narrow corridor between her and Crowning remained. Her heart pounded at her chest as each step brought her closer to the man she… she… to Crowning.
He smiled at her, and said something to her in greeting. But Jersey's pulse pounded in her ears so loudly it drowned out everything but itself.
She closed her arms around him, effortlessly lifting him up until his bushy face sat even with her own. She didn't stop moving. Her shins scuffed against his dangling feet as she carried him along, pinning him against a shed with a gentle crash of flesh and steel.
And then she kissed him.
Her boilers roared against her chest, filling her with a warmth that almost powered the glow from her… her… from her love pressed against her lips.
She closed her eyes, letting her body take the conn as she pressed her lips into his. It was a messy kiss, her muscles were shaking too badly for her to manage any sort of finesse, but a kiss none the less. She felt his arms close around her broad back, and she let her own hold him tight against her.
She wanted to press the kiss, to hold on tight and never let go, but she needed to breath. She broke contact with a wet gasp, her chest heaving against his as she struggled to suck back air.
And then her blood ran cold.
"No," her voice was barely above a whisper. She opened her arms, letting Crowning land back against the concrete pier. Her heart pounded against her heart again, but different this time. Not lust, but sheer unadulterated panic ran though her veins.
"I…" she blushed a brilliant crimson, and nearly tripped over her own feet trying to back away, "S-sorry."
"Jersey?" Gale's voice cut though the cloud of horrified panic filling Jersey's mind. Had she just gotten here? Had she been here all along? Had she seen everything? Jersey's mind was too clouded by fear to answer any of those questions.
"I…" the big battleship felt her mouth go dry. Adrenaline flooded her veins. She needed torun. "t-taffies," she stammered. She planted her feet on the pier and bolted like a mouse with its tail on fire, pure panic flooding her system.
What had she done.
What had she done.
But…
But Crowning was a good man. A kind man.
Maybe… just maybe he'd forgive her for it.