Chapter 81: One With Stereotypes
Heavy Cruiser Prinz Eugen of the Kre—of the United States Navy shuffled out of her Admiral's office as quickly as her shaking legs could take her. Her shoes scuffed against the flooring and she didn't even bother to stifle the raspy cough rattling up her fouled-over windpipe. She felt miserable, and not just because of the wretched state of her boilers.
Her friends had come back. Spee, and Scheer, and even Lutzow. Prinz Eugen felt a tiny smile flicker across her face at the memory of her old friends. Only… only they weren'ther old friends.
They'd come back wrong. Twisted. Evil. Nazi. Prinz Eugen had all but blown up in her Admiral's face at that accusation. She knew her friends! They were proud warriors, and yes, they served Germany. But because it was their duty! They weren't enamored with that little corporal any more than she was!
And then he showed her the pictures. Panzerschiffs steaming in line astern with swastikas proudly flying from their masts. It made her sick to see such honorable girls twisted into something so irredeemably evil. It was a good thing her rifles weren't loaded, she didn't think she could've held her fire.
But the anger was gone now, the void filled up by loneliness and despair. If that's what happened to her friends… Prinz Eugen didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to be alone for however long she lived.
And then she rounded a corner, and nearly ran into another cruiser.
Two of them, actually. Cruisers of a clearly American design.
Wearing dirndls and carrying steins of beer.
"Hey," the pretty asian one with the scared-over neck hooked her arm though Prinz Eugen's and stuffed a pretzel into the distraught German girl's mouth. "USS San Fransisco. Call me Frisco."
"And I'm USS St. Louis," said the one with flaming red hair and altogether too many guns strapped around her person. "Cee-Ell-fourty-nine, not the other one. Call me Lou!" she added in a cheery voice that sounded like honey on warm bread.
"Uh," Prinz Eugen awkwardly pulled the pretzel out of her mouth, "USS Prinz Eugen."
"Oh, we know who you are!" Frisco played with the hem of her skirt. Then she glanced down at her on bodice, then to Prinz Eugen's far more developed upperworks. "You're not treaty-compliant, are you?"
Prinz Eugen shook her head. "S-sorry."
"Psh!" Lou rolled her shoulders in a shrug as enthusiastic as the copper-tinged flicker of her hair. "Ain't nothing to be ashamed about, hun!"
"Yeah," Frisco took a sip from her stein and nearly dropped the whole thing. "Hell, that's good."
"What my division mate means," Lou rolled her eyes, "Is that you're on our side, and we could certainly use a super-cruiser."
Frisco just took another sip of beer, "This is, like, really good."
"Told you," Lou giggled and bounced her hip against Prinz Eugen, sending the German girl's hips crashing into Frisco's.
Frisco ignored the sudden jostling, her attention was too focused on her beverage.
Prinz Eugen glanced from one cruiser to the other so fast she started seriously worrying if she was going to get whiplash. "I… what?"
"Oh!" Lou snapped her fingers, "Darn, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves!"
"We're your division mates." Frisco tore her attention from her beer. "At least for the time being."
"That means you're bunking with us!" Lou beamed and gave the stunned German a quick peck on the cheek.
"And we wanted to make you feel welcome," said Frisco.
"Yeah," Lou nodded. "After the war, I got traded to Brazil. So, ah, I know how awkward getting a new country can be."
"And I… well…" Frisco waved her hand over her pretty—though decidedly Japanese—features with a shrug. "Yeah."
"So if there's anything we can do," Lou steered the little division towards a low-slung dormitory building, "Just let us know!"
"We're here for you, Pringles," Frisco gave the German a squeezing side-hug.
"I-" Prinz Eugen chewed the air for a minute. She wasn't used to such gratuitous displays of affection—or touching, for that matter. That wasn't to say she didn't like it, but the poor cruiser was so out of her depth she might as well be a submarine on the moon.
"Uh," she scrambled to find something coherent to say even as the Americans shepherded her though the double-doors. She was overwhelmed, but in a good sort of way. It was hard to be unhappy around those two. "D-danke!"
"Ain't nothing!" Lou waved off the thanks with a cherry red blush, and Frisco just dipped her head in thanks.
"It was to me." Prinz Eugen rested her head against the much shorter American's ebony locks. She had friends! Then a thought came to her. "But, um," she glanced from one cruiser's dress to the other's. "Where'd you get those dirndls?"
Frisco and Lou shared a look like she'd just asked if water was wet.
"We're cruisers," said Frisco.
"Of the United States Navy," added Lou.
Prinz Eugen blinked. "Oh. Um. Okay?"
Neither American felt like elaborating further. In any case, the three girls hastily ducked though a door labeled—in swooping handwriting that Prinz Eugen just knew was Lou's—'Frisco & Lou, and Pringles Too!'
Like seemingly everything else in America, the room was bigger than Prinz Eugen was expecting. Three beds were set up against one wall, all shoved together to form a single big cuddle area right underneath one of the windows. Pillows, blankets, and adorable little stuffed animals were strew around the triple bed seemingly at random, though Prinz Eugen noticed a stuffed narwhal occupying a position of pride right in the middle.
The other wall was dominated by another window with three desks setup in a U-shape. One shined with pristine, freshly-dusted wood. But the other two were all but drowning in half-finished model kits, paint bottles, books, and oddly-shaped dice.
And of course, the air smelled suspiciously of sausage.
"W-wow," Prinz Eugen smiled as she soaked it all in.
"I know!" Frisco planted her hands on her hips and smiled at the happy German. "I was the first cruiser back, so naturally I picked the corner room!"
"Way to go," Lou held up her fist, which Frisco didn't even need to look at to bump. "Only the best for KanCruDiv 1!"
"Mmhm!" Frisco nodded sagely.
Prinz Eugen spun on her heel, her itty bitty skirt flaring up over her short spats—one of the few modifications she'd received after being turned over to the American Navy. "Thank you!" She beamed and pulled the two much shorter Americans in for a tight hug.
"Oof!" Lou's nose slammed into her collar bone, and Frisco's face all but disappeared into her chest.
Prinz Eugen was so happy to have friends again, she almost didn't notice the New Orleans-class frantically slapping at her flank. "Oh, sorry," She let the two Americans go from their hug.
Frisco staggered back with a gasp. "N- not treaty!"
Lou giggled and tossed a swat at the other cruiser. "So, Pringles!"
"Ja?" Prinz Eugen reflexively snapped to proper Prussian attention.
"You must be hungry, right?" Lou stifled a giggle and fished a heaping plate of warm sausage, oven fresh pretzels, and stone-ground mustard from under her desk. "I'm more a seafood girl myself," she shrugged, "But I did my best. I hope it tastes like home!"
Prinz Eugen nodded, her cheeks already puckering up from her smile. "It smells like home! Danke!"
"Awww…" Lou's smile turned utterly gooey as Prinz Eugen wolfed down a sausage. "You're so cute when she says that."
Prinz Eugen blushed, and sheepishly stuffed another sausage into her mouth.
—|—|—
"Hey, Gale. You're gay right?"
Yeoman Sarah Gale glanced up from her half-finished spaghetti only to find the toweringly gigantic figure of Battleship New Jersey staring back at her, looking utterly frantic. "You know," she sighed, "I can't imagine any possible situation in which this ends well for me, but yes. I am a lesbian."
It took Jersey a second to process what she'd said, then the battleship just shrugged and moved on. "Okay cool. I'm going on a date, and I need something classy to wear."
A few seats down the table, Yeoman Bowers smiled and passed Gale a twenty.
"Okay," Gale sighed, "And… you're coming to me with this?"
"Duh," Jersey shook her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Jersey, I wear cammies all the damn time," Gale shook her head, "Why are you coming to me for fashion advice."
"'cause you're gay," said the battleship with genuine confusion.
Bowers snorted back a laugh and ended up spewing milk through her nose. Gale shot her so-called friend a dirty look.
"What?" Jersey glanced between the two sailors, "Is- is that not how it works?"
"No!" Gale caught herself knife-handing the giant battleship girl and hurriedly stuffed her hand under the table. "That- I…" She scowled and trailed off with a huff.
"So…" Jersey scratched her temple, "I'm confused."
"I can help!" Yeoman Bowers scooted over and offered the battleship her hand. "Jen Bowers, I'm not sure we've met."
"Bowers," Jersey shook as gently as she could manage, "Nice to meet you. Are you lesbian?"
Gale's spaghetti let out a quiet 'splort' as the sailor face-planted in what was left of her dinner.
Jersey and Bowers glanced at her for a moment.
"Is she okay?" asked the battleship.
"Probably yes," guessed the sailor.
Jersey shrugged, "Good enough for me!"
"And by the way," added Bowers, "I'm not."
Jersey blinked. "Not what?"
"Gay."
The battleship scrunched up her brow, then shrugged off this new earth-shattering information. "Oh, okay."
Bowers bit her lip and glanced over the towering battleship's figure. "I have been meaning to ask though… why do you wear that vest?"
Jersey fingered the hem of her puffer vest, "Keeps me warm, I guess?"
"Yeah, but why a down vest?" Bowers pulled a notepad out of her fatigue pocket and scribbled down some notes, "The puffiness is hell on your figure."
"It is?" Jersey unzipped her vest and held it open a little. Yeah, her waist was quite a bit smaller without all the padding, but it wasn't that noticeable, was it?
"Jersey," Bowers smiled, "You've got a body most girls would kill for, why don't you show it off?"
"Uh," the battleship blinked, "I thought I was."
Bowers just laughed, "No no…" The sailor sucked on the tip of her pencil and trailed off in thought. "A running vest! Something sleek, it'd keep the same line, but let you show off your boobs."
Jersey glanced down with a frown. "Yeah, but mine are-"
"Yours are not small!" Gale burst from her meal like a pasta-sauce-covered submarine breaching the waves after a ballast blow. "Yours are big, and perky, and you're only grouchy because you're dumb."
Jersey blinked.
Gale, however, was too full of steaming rage to let up, "You don't know what average is!" She grabbed the battleship's hands and clapped them to her own, rather smaller, breasts, "These! These are average."
Jersey blinked again.
Gale suddenly blushed a brilliant red and bolted for the door.
"Uh…" Jersey was left groping the air. "Bowers?"
"Ma'am?"
"You saw that too, right?"
Bowers nodded, "She's been on edge recently."
Jersey gave the sailor a confused look, "Any idea why?"
"I think it's Wash related."
The battleship smiled as the universe suddenly snapped back into proper order. "Ooooh, okay, that makes sense."
"So," Bowers stuffed her hands into her pockets and shrugged. "You still want fashion advice?"
Jersey nodded, "Really a lot."
Bowers glanced up and down the towering battleship's figure once more, and scribbled a few more notes on her pad. "Swing by my place around… threeish. I should have some options for you."
"Awesome!" Jersey lifted the sailor up in a tight hug. "Thanks!"
Bowers grunted something in reply with the scant few dozen molecules of air left in her lungs.
—|—|—
White and Shinano walked to the mess hall for breakfast.
Or to be more accurate, White walked to the mess hall for breakfast while Shinano clenched her hand in a death-grip and made little to no progress what so ever.
The big carrier bit her lip and tightened her grip on little White's hand. Her breath was shallow in her chest, and the heavy fabric of her long tail-skirt brushed against her muscled thighs with each timid step.
"W-white?" Shinano stammered out.
"Hmm?" White took a break from frantically skidding her shoes against the concrete to glance back at her towering roommate.
"Um," Shinano blushed and pushed a few bits of her jet-black hair out of the way. She was just wearing it in a ponytail now. She'd spent hours trying to braid it up again, but she just couldn't get her hands to do what she wanted them to. "What- what if they don't like me?"
White sighed and shuffled over to hug Shinano. Or at least hug her waist, it was as far as she could reach. "Shinna, you're silly! Why wouldn't they like you!"
Shinano bit her lip. She liked getting hugs from White, they always made her feel calm. But whenever she looked down at those hugs, she had to look past her own chest.
She'd bound her breasts down as tightly as she could, and the heavy forging of her muneate further hid her figure into something resembling a proper flight deck. But she still towered over all the other light carriers—not to mention outweighed nearly all of them put together.
And if she was being honest, her boobs itched something fierce from the tight linen binding. She wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about that. She might look like a carrier, but she knew she… she really wasn't. Her bindings and armor might squish her chest into something resembling a flight deck, but she knew what lay underneath. The ample upperworks of a battleship that'd just get in the way of her bowstring.
"Shinna?" White squeezed the younger girl's sinewy waist with a concerned grimace.
"Hmm?" Shinano shook herself out of her melancholic mood as best she could. Which wasn't that well, honestly.
"You're a good girl!" White gave Shinano one last squeeze, then resumed her mostly-futile efforts to tow the timid support carrier towards her breakfast.
"Yeah," Shinano blushed beet red at the praise, "But… Ryuujou and Jun'You and…" she sniffed. "They're real carriers."
"So are you!" White huffed and struggled to haul the increasingly frightened girl towards the double doors.
"I have one of the biggest decks ever," Shinano hugged herself with her free arm, "And… and my pilots still can't land on me."
"Give 'em time!" insisted White.
Shinano whimpered and tried to make herself small. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, but she wasn't sure her Japan had that much time.
"Now!" White panted, hands clasped to her knees as she hauled down air, "Let's eat!"
Shinano nodded, but didn't make any motion towards the door. She was hungry, yes, hungry enough to nervously paw at her belly. But she'd lived though Japan's darkest hour. A grumbling tummy wasn't anything she—or her crew—wasn't used to.
"C'mon!" White planted both hands firmly on the support carrier's stern and pushed with all her might.
Shinano slowly edged towards the doors, her armored boots creaking against the beaten-down flooring.
"Gotta eat!" added the little escort carrier. "So you can grow up big 'n strong!"
Before Shinano could point out she was already quite big—probably too big, White bolted between her legs and threw open the mess hall doors.
Shinano didn't try to make herself small anymore. Now she tried to make herself disappear. She let out a tiny 'eep!' of fright and ducked down behind White.
It didn't really work, her massive frame was simply too much carrier to hide in White's shadow.
"Shinaaaaaaaaaa," White rolled her eyes, "You've met these girls before!"
Shinano offered a timid nod. "Bu-but that was before."
"Before what?" White planted her little fists on her hips and gave the cowering support carrier a look halfway between the kindness of a mother and the disappointment of a drill instructor.
"Before Akashi told me how broken I was," mumbled the Japanese girl.
"But now you're all better!" half-demanded White.
"But my planes-" Before Shinano could finish her sentence, White went bouncing off to fill up her plate with rice and hash browns, leaving Shinano without even the meager cover she'd been hiding behind.
It didn't take the little escort carrier long to fill up her plate, then she sprinted off to the training pool. She was probably already late after spending so much time babying Shinano.
Shinano muttered a tiny noise of fright, and bolted for the serving line. While she loaded up her plate with scoop after scoop of food, she kept her eyes peeled for anyone she knew.
She found a few almost immediately, but she really really didn't want to sit with them.
Ryuujou and Jun'you shared a table in the corner with a handful of Fubukis. The spiky-haired carrier conversion was howling with laughter and banging her hand against the table in mirth, and the destroyers giggled girlishly while Ryuujou regaled them with a story.
Shinano froze. Were they making fun of her? Not that she really thought they were, Ryuujou was a good friend. But… but Shinano wasn't lacking in things to make fun of, and the very idea that they might be talking about her almost paralyzed her with fear.
"Hey!" a very tiny voice sounded from somewhere beneath Shinano, "You're holding up the line!"
Shinano jumped and looked around for the source of the voice. A gaggle of weary-looking Mutsukis—obviously back from an exhausting expedition—stood in line behind her. Tired girls who'd earned their dinner, and Shinano was keeping them from it with her bulk.
"S-sorry," Shinano stammered out an apology barely louder than her own footsteps as she bolted for a table.
The mess hall was pretty busy this time of day, but she still managed to find a secluded table all to herself. It wasn't that she wanted to be alone, the big carrier would give anything to have a few friends to sit with. But eating alone was better than getting rejected by the pride of CarDiv 1.
"Hey, Shina!"
Shinano almost dropped her plate and whirled around, "Wha?"
"Easy!" Ryuujou laughed and easily dodged the younger carrier's wildly swinging ponytail. "Mind if we join you?"
Shinano glanced around. The destroyers were there, as was Jun'you—who looked like she was six drinks down already.
"Woo WOO!" Jun'you pumped her fist in the air and smiled.
"Uh," Shinano bit her lip and shrank behind her mountain of breakfast food. Unlike White, it at least was big enough for her to properly cower behind. "O-okay."
"Awesome!" Ryuujou smiled and settled into a seat right across from Shinano, while Jun'you slouched into the seat beside her.
"Heya!" the spiky-haired carrier flashed Shinano a drunkly enthusiastic smile, "Nice to meet 'ya, Shina!" she giggled at her own silly rhyme and tore into her breakfast.
"Nice to meet you," Shinano blushed, and stuffed a handful of rice into her mouth. She'd use chopsticks… but she really didn't know how.
"So," Ryuujou slurped down some orange juice. "You've got a briefing with us later, yeah?"
Shinano nodded. "I'm not sure why," she mumbled, "My pilots…"
"You're a support carrier!" cheered Jun'you. "you don't need planes to be awesome! Wooo! Shinanoooooo!"
Shinano blinked. It was hard not to smile when Jun'you was around. "T-thanks."
"You're wel~come!" Jun'you waved a bottle in the air—and barely spilled any—in an impromptu toast.
"Now eat up!" Ryuujou prodded Shinano's towering breakfast pile, "We've got a briefing in an hour."