Large Cruiser Alaska wasn't quite sure how to describe the vexing sensation gnawing at her stomach, which would have worried her if she wasn't already so wound-up. She'd had a light breakfast—only a few dozen pancakes with just a
small drizzle of syrup—in anticipation of the barbecue, but she'd been hungry before. This wasn't hunger she was feeling deep within her slender tummy, it was… it was…
What was it?
On the one hand, Alaska was excited to see Cameron again. The Kagerou triplets had enthusiastically cautioned her to avoid using the words "I love you" in case that drove him off, but… But Alaska
did love him! Every time she saw his smile it felt like fireworks were going off inside her chest, but in a good way. The sky was always a little bluer and the air a little sweeter when she was around him, and Alaska could honestly say she'd never been happier than when he had his arm around her.
The large cruiser liked to think she wasn't clingy—although she wasn't sure how true that actually was—but every moment away from Cameron felt just a little dimmer. Not…
horrible just… not as bright and sweet as it could've been.
And… well, Alaska might not know much about anything. But she'd been home to over fifteen-hundred seamen once, many of whom were Cameron's age. Alaska knew the affect a pretty lady could have on a young man, and she couldn't wait to show her love the swimsuit she'd picked out.
It was a really cute two-piece affair in the same crisp-white color as her snowy hair. The top was a high-necked cut that gave her distinctly indistinct chest lots of coverage without hiding much of her well-muscled back. Her hair did that well enough, and if she just
happened to brush it away while Cameron was looking… couldn't be helped, right? Alaska put a lot more thought into picking out the bottom half of her swimsuit.
She was fully aware she was prettiest below decks, and she was
also aware of how pleasant a well-proportioned tush like her own shapely aft was to a young man. She wanted to show off for Cameron, but… not
look like she was trying to show off. She'd finally settled on a nice pair of snow-white boyshorts that hugged her legs and gave her shaft galleries just the right amount of tantalizing coverage.
And, if that was the end of the story, Alaska would have known how to describe the feeling in her belly. Happiness! But Cameron wasn't the only person Alaska would be meeting. She also had to make a good first impression on his parents, or… or…
Alaska didn't want to think about it. If she made a fool of herself… if his parents didn't like her… if… if they forbid him from seeing her, she knew he'd acquiesce. He was a good boy, an honest, obedient, hard-working boy. It was why she loved him so much, but it was also why she was so utterly terrified. What if they hated her! What if they thought she wasn't good enough!
Alaska was too scared to put her thoughts into words, so she settled for planting her face between the comforting softness of Atago's bosom and moaning out a pitiful "'Tagoooooooo~"
Atago giggled and idly stroked her best friend's snowy white hair. The heavy cruiser had been almost as excited about the beach party as Alaska was, and she'd spent
hours picking out just the right outfit. She'd settled on an—in Alaska's educated opinion—
adorable little bikini in the same coral-blue color as her greatcoat. "'Laska, you're cute."
Alaska just burrowed her head deeper into her best friend's comfortingly warm cleavage. "'knooooow."
"You'll do fine," Atago chuckled and let her hand slide down Alaska's sinewy back. The American wasn't nearly as plush as she was. Where Atago's body was mostly soft with just a hint of the steel underneath, you couldn't
find a place on Alaska where you couldn't find twitching American muscle lying like sleeping pythons under skin as beautiful and unblemished as fresh-fallen snow. "He likes you."
Alaska huffed something into Atago's cleavage and pulled her head free with a grunt. Before she could elaborate, the screech of howling air brakes and straining metal filled the air. A sudden reminder that while she might
look like a sinewy young athlete, Alaska was one
fat boat.
Atago giggled, and her tummy jiggled a bit in mirth. "Too many pancakes, 'laska?"
Alaska blushed bright red and folded her sinewy arms over her itty-bitty titties. "'m not
that fat."
Atago just chuckled to herself and clambered aft to the door. Her chest swelled as the big cruiser sucked in a massive breath, her cheeks puckered with a smile and she leaped to the sand with a thundering "Pan-papapapanpaka~pan!" to properly herald her arrival. "Atago is here!"
Alaska smiled and stepped down the ladder as casually as she could. Cameron's family—and most of their block, if Alaska's count was at all accurate—had already set up over most of the beach. There were grills and smokers galore, and it took herculean effort on the cruiser's part to keep from drooling all over her fresh new swimsuit. "Hi," she said with a wave to nobody in particular.
Cameron was the first to react. He hurled a tennis ball to the horizon, sending a huge golden retriever that seemed to be made up almost entirely of floof and happiness bolting into the surf. Alaska wanted very much to hug that dog. She wanted it so much in fact she
almost didn't notice Cameron's shirt.
Or rather…
lack thereof.
"H-hi Cameron," Alaska hoped her voice wasn't audibly faltering as badly as her brain was. She'd never seen Cameron shirtless and… well… it was making her feel things she'd rather not have mentioned in her log, at least not yet.
"Hey, 'Laska!" Cameron trotted over and—much to the large cruiser's glee—swept his gaze over her from stem to stern. Mostly stern. Alaska even remembered to throw out her hip a bit to give him a better angle. "You're uh…"
"Do you like my outfit?" said Alaska with an innocent smile. Genuinely innocent, actually. Seeing Cameron again made her so happy she'd totally forgotten the vamp routine Atago made her practice on the way over.
"I, uh…" Cameron's eyes drifted to her tummy only to snap back to her ice blue eyes when he noticed what he was doing. "'Laska, you know I'd say that about
anything you wore."
"Heh," Alaska giggled as a dopey smile forced itself onto her face. She loved Cameron
so much. Just being around him made her happy. "Gimme a kiss?" she asked hopefully.
"Anything for the lady." Cameron stood on tip-toes to bring his lips to her cheek for a quick kiss. On the soft grass, he had to steady himself by putting a hand around her slender waist. Alaska enjoyed that part immensely. "Atago, do you—"
Atago was already most of the way down the beach, with about nine boys—and two girls with brightly-colored hair—all competing for the privileged of showing her which way the water was. The big heavy cruiser was clearly enjoying second of it.
"Um…" Cameron chuckled.
"Yeah," Alaska scooched closer until her hip touched his. "She does that."
Cameron put his hand around her waist, and the large cruiser shivered when his thumb brushed against the soft muscle of her belly. "Hey, Ma!"
"Coming, Cameron!" A slender Asian-looking woman wearing a dazzle-pattern bikini and cuttofs walked over with the kind of smirk on her lips Alaska'd grown used to seeing on Texas. Or Kat, for that matter. Alaska hadn't seen Kat in a while, which was something she should remedy. Kat was nice and enjoyable to hug.
"Mom," Cameron gave Alaska's waist a gentle squeeze, just to let her know he was there for her if she needed him. "This is Alaska. 'Laska, this is my mom."
Alaska wasn't sure if she should bow, curtsy, or just offer a hand. So she just kinda figited in place for a few moments then blushed. "N-nice to meet you!" Alaska hoped her voice hadn't cracked as obviously as she was certain it had.
"So you're the girl who stole my son's heart, hmm?" Mrs. Young smiled at Alaska, but her gaze soon started creeping downwards. The woman soaked in every detail of Alaska's sinewy build with her knowing gaze, but Alaska could tell she wasn't being leered at. More… sized up. Was Mrs. Young deciding if she was worthy wife material for her son? Alaska puffed out her humble chest in the hopes that that would somehow help.
"Sweetie, turn around would you?" Mrs. Young drew circles in the air with her finger.
Alaska obligingly did a circle in place.
"You've got quite the aft there, honey."
"Thank you," Alaska blushed. "But… really you should tell New York Ship."
Mrs. Young's lip twitched in disgust at the mention of that Yankee sate, but a smile replaced it a moment later. "You know, you'd look
amazing in a nice drop-waist gown."
"Really?" Alaska perked up.
"Mmm, strapless with a little bit of ruffle." Mrs. Young smiled at the large cruiser. "It's look beautiful with that hair of yours."
"T-thank you!" Alaska beamed. Moments later, the compulsion to hug Cameron's mother entered her mind, and Alaska had learned long ago she was powerless to resist her body when it decided hugs were on the menu. It turned out to be a good decision, Mrs. Young was almost as soft as Kat.
"Ain't nothing, sweetie." Mrs. Young returned the hug with one of her own. "Come by the shop sometime, I'm sure I've got something in your size if you want."
Alaska squealed with joy. She liked playing dress-up almost as much as she liked playing with toys. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Young!"
"Call my Christy, sweetie." Mrs. Young—Christy—ruffled the cruiser's hair.
Before Alaska could respond, her belly let out a terrifyingly loud roar and the cruiser caught herself cradling her poor starving middle. "Uh…"
"Ribs are right over there, honey." Christy waved at a park table overflowing with food—most of witch was in some way meat-derived.
Alaska decided another hug was in order, but only a short one. She
was hungry after all. "Thank you!"
The large cruiser darted over to take her place in line, and before long a massive creature who identified himself as Bill Young, Cameron's dad, was heaping ribs, brisket, and even piles of barbecue shrimp onto her plate. Alaska was reasonably sure Mr. Young was a person, but she wasn't willing to rule out the possibility that he was in fact a hastily-shaved bear.
He seemed to have no face beyond bushy eyebrows the color of granite and an equally bushy beard, but somehow Alaska could tell he was smiling when he rumbled off his name. "Thank you, Mr. young!"
"Bill," said the monstrously huge man-bear-thing manning the grill.
Alaska giggled. She liked him already. This was going to be a good day!
—|—|—
On the other side of the world, Battleship New Jersey was having a decidedly less pleasant day. The sun had already set over the tiny rock in the china sea—although someone had rigged up a few floodlights to make sure Old Glory stood proud and clear on a pole that'd days earlier been flying a Nazi swastika. Most everyone on the island was asleep, save for a few Marines standing watch and the taffies going around handing out rip-its and candy bars.
How many of said rip-its the destroyers had ingested before embarking on their good-will tour was the kind of question Jersey didn't want to know the answer to. She didn't need to know what the little shits put into their tiny bodies and she didn't
want to know. As long as they stayed out of her luxurious strawberry-blond hair, she didn't really care what they got up to.
Especially now that she had problems of her own.
The amazonian battleship stomped up and down the beach with a scowl on her face. Every few steps she'd alter course and grind her massive thighs against each other, trying to alleviate the pain festering under her bikini.
"Pick up," Jersey glared at her phone. "Pick up you fucking coal-burning
bitch."
The battleship had been painfully horny when she weighed anchor for this mission, and that was days ago. Watching Ari and Pennsy with their overbuild Standard upperworks jiggling with every wave and step had driven her close to madness, and things had only gotten worse once she'd made landfall. Jersey
might have been able to block out the Standard tiddly, but hundreds of sweaty Marines digging trenches while stripped to the waist? That'd drive any woman mad.
"Pick
up you cocksucking cuntboat!" Jersey roared in anger, trying to ignore the pain between her legs. It was like she was fucking a goddamn rasp, and it fucking
hurt. She'd tried to address the problem, but… well… when she
offered to help Pennsy work through her issues with a good old-fashioned railing, the standard just got prissier than usual. Jersey'd been forced to take measures into her own hands.
Which had been an un-fucking-mitigated disaster, as per fucking usual.
"Repairship Vestal," The ancient auxiliary sounded even grouchier than usual over the tinny speakers of Jersey's phone.
"If you're drunk it's your own damn fault."
"I'm not drunk," Jersey squirmed and collapsed onto the beach.
"Oh," Vestal's voice perked up a bit.
"Hey, Jersey. What's going on?"
"I'm horny as
fuck and there's not one fucking willing officer on this goddamn rock."
"You try uh…" Vestal coughed.
"Getting yerself off"
"That's why I'm fucking
calling." Growled Jersey. "How the
flying fuck do I get sand outta my fucking shaft galleries!"
Vestal's response was to howl with laughter for thirty consecutive minutes and then hang up.
—|—|—
"Wait a second." Alaska almost dropped her half-finished watermelon as a shocking revelation occurred to her in a flash.
"Hmm?" Cameron glanced over at her. "'laska, you got a little…"
"Huh?"
"On your cheek."
"What?"
"Some sauce," Cameron pointed to the offending smear right by Alaska's lip.
"Oh." Alaska didn't bother wiping it away. She just closed her eyes and puckered her lips.
Cameron rolled his eyes, but obligingly gave the large cruiser another kiss. "So, what'd you realize?"
"Well…" Alaska scooted her hips to be closer to her love. "Your mom works at a wedding store, right?"
"Bridal, but yeah," said Cameron.
"And she's sizing me up for a dress, right?"
Cameron wrapped his hand around Alaska's middle and idly stroked at her sinewy tummy. The large cruiser had to have eaten close to her own volume already, but the only evidence was a tiny, almost imperceptible, softening to her abs. She was still as slim as ever, still as cool to the touch as ever. It was like cuddling a fresh ocean breeze, only cuter. "Yeah."
"That means…" Alaska trailed off into a wordless squeal of glee.
Cameron chuckled and gave her belly a little pat. "'Laska…" He trailed of, not sure of what he should say. He knew what he
wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, and that… that the moment he graduated, the moment he got a job that could support such a fine woman-who-was-also-a-boat as her he'd want nothing more than to marry her. But… he didn't say any of that. Even if he could find the words, well… He… it was just a silly fantasy anyway right?
"Um…" Alaska blushed and suddenly bolted to her feet. "I… gotta talk to your mom about something."
—|—|—
Warrant Officer Sarah Gale smiled to herself and chuckled at the absurdity of it all. To think, there was a time she thought of Wash as a supernatural goddess of beauty and grace. A time when she thought the seagoing spirit was the avatar of feminine grace, a lofty standard that even in her wildest dreams a lowly sailor could never hope to reach.
That was before Wash attempted to help her shower using a fire hose. Before the big battleship had demonstrated her eager ignorance of all but the most basic elements of love. Before Wash had sheepishly let herself be guided through the process of making love amidst of pile of mussed blankets and straining bedframe rails.
Of course, Gale still thought Wash was supernaturally beautiful. It was one reason she was more than happy to share her bed with the titanically heavy battlewagon. Wash's russet brown hair spilled over the pillow like a great sea of molten copper, splaying down the covers and nearly getting into Gale's face. The smell of nutmeg and oil filled the room with its sweet aroma, and Gale idly stroked her fingers along the battleship's tight stomach.
"Wash?" Gale leaned over and nibbled at the battleship's ear.
"Hmm?" Wash let out a quiet hum. The big battleship had been eager to please, but that was nothing compared to how readily she took to Gale's talents. It was a wonder the bedframe was
only as badly damaged as it was.
Gale opened her mouth, but no words came out. She'd given up on ever having kids before she even accepted her sexuality. Maybe she'd adopt but… she knew she'd never carry a child within her, right? But that was before demons-who-were-also-boats rose from the abyss, only to be stopped by ships-who-were-also-girls. And as she idly stroked at Wash's belly, she couldn't help but picture the battleship with a bun in the oven.
It was a nice picture.
"Mmm?" Wash rolled over to face her love. Something that was much easier said than done, considering her immensely plush chest. But somehow, Wash managed to complete the motion without putting Gale's eyes out with her main battery. No doubt the several dozen faeries sitting atop the headboard with tiny semaphore flags helped.
Also, it meant Gale could get a solid grip on Wash's ample aft, which was always welcome.
"Um…" Gale was momentarily distracted by the deep hazel of Wash's eyes. The battleship was so gorgeous, even if you
didn't count her amazing rack and jaw-dropping aft. "I… you ever thought about, um… children?"
Wash's eyes rolled shut and she leaned in to nuzzle Gale. "A little," she said between kisses to Gale's neck. "Sarah, I don't want kids."
"Hmm?" Gale shivered as Wash's hands worked over her back.
"I want
your kids." Wash pressed herself against the sailor and smiled.
Gale couldn't come up with a response to that, so she just kissed Wash firmly on the lips. "I'm not sure it works that way," she said, knowing full well the realm of ships-who-were-also-boats was so far beyond her experience it wasn't even in the same universe. "But…" she rolled atop the big battlewagon, "I'll give it a try."
—|—|—
"Um… Mrs. Young?" Alaska held her paper plate in both hands. She'd originally planned to offer her aid with the dishes as an excuse to have some 'girl time' with her boyfriend's mother. But that plan kinda fell apart once she realized they were using paper and plastic. She kept holding onto the plate though, it gave her hands something to do.
"How can I help you, sweetie?" Christy glanced up from her own meal and smiled at the blushing cruiser.
"Um…" Alaska rubbed her foot against the muscle of her calf. "Can… can I talk to you for a moment?"
It only took a heartbeat for Christy to catch the cruiser's meaning. She smiled, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, and excused herself from the table. "Of course, honey." She lead the cruiser to a more secluded part of the beach and put a comforting hand on Alaska's shoulder. "What's up?"
"Um…" Alaska flopped onto the ground with her long legs sprawled out on the sand. "Are… are you really sure I'm good enough for Cameron?"
"Alaska…" Christy planted her hands on her hips and gave the cruiser a look. "Honey, what's gotten into you?"
"Well… what you said earlier," said Alaska. "About… a dress and…"
"A
gown Alaska," said Christy. "For a wedding."
"That's the point," said Alaska with a quiet sniffle. "Do… do you know much about my class?"
"Can't say I do." Christy settled onto the sand next to the quietly despondent cruiser and wrapped an arm around her snowy middle. "Why?"
"We're… we're not good for anything," said Alaska. "We're not battleships my—" she patted her toned tummy—"My belt's only nine inches, and I don't have
anything below the waterline."
Christy shot a meaningful glance at Alaska's very well proportioned aft, but said nothing.
"If you need a battleship, you'd use an
Iowa," Alaska sniffed. "And— and if you wanted a cruiser… a
Baltimore does everything we can for a lot less money."
"And…?" Christy ruffled Alaska's snowy hair.
"Jus'…" Alaska sniffled. "Are… are you sure that I'm… you know… enough for him?"
Christy looked at Alaska and started to laugh. Quietly at first, but soon she was clamping her hands over her mouth to try and contain her mirth. "S-sweetie… you don't know how he looks at you, do you?"
Alaska glanced over with a look of puppy-dog curiosity on her face. "Huh?"
"Cameron…" Christy chuckled. "Bless your heart, child. Cameron doesn't want a battleship or a cruiser, he wants
you."
"He does?" said Alaska with more surprise than she liked to admit.
"He does," said Christy. "A mother knows these things. I've seen the way he looks at you… the way he checks out your butt every time you turn around."
Alaska giggled. So her swimsuit
was working! She threw her arms around Christy and buried her face in the slender woman's belly. "Thank you!"
Christy smiled and tousled the cruiser's hair. "You're welcome, sweetie. Now… why don't you go play with your boyfriend. You've hardly touched the water all evening."
—|—|—
"This seat taken?" Kirishima swished her hips inquisitively, letting the frilly fringe of her high-waisted—and correspondingly
extremely short—skirt rustle against the pale skin of her supple thighs. She held her tray with both hands, angling it to keep her mountain of pancakes from brushing against the golden chain hanging between her small but well-appointed pagodas.
"Of course." Crowning glanced up from his own, far more meager breakfast of oatmeal and milk. "You're up early."
Kirishima shrugged, and settled into a chair right across from the intriguing academic. A part of her was amazing Jersey ever found him interesting. He was so…
not her. So quiet and reserved, so gentle and kind of nature. Nothing like the bold, brash American.
But at the same time, there was a kind glint in his eyes that Kirishima couldn't help but be comforted by. Whenever she was talking to him, or even
with him, the littlest Kongou felt safe and secure. She could only imagine how much more appealing that security might be to Jersey. Kirishima did't like to spread rumors, but… in her opinion Jersey's fragility was pretty obvious. The poor girl'd been through a lot.
"Kirishima?"
"Huh?" Kirishima belatedly realized she'd been staring, and a blush colored her cheeks. "Sorry. I… I'm not actually up early."
A single eyebrow crept north on Crowning's face, and he took a bite of toast in an interrogative fashion.
"I didn't sleep at all last night," Kirishima poured herself into the chair and sighed. She knew she should be happy—and she
was—but… still…
"Oh?" Crowning said. It was a quiet acknowledgement of her situation, but not
quite a question. It left her just enough space to explain if she wanted, while making it easy for her to ignore if the situation was to private to reveal. Kirishima appreciated his candor.
"I'm… trained for night battles," said Kirishima. "Part of that is honing my senses and learning to be aware of everything. I don't have radar as a crutch. And last night…" The battleship scowled. Be happy for her.
Be happy for her. "Wash and Gale, um… kept me up."
"I'm sorry." Said the quietly serene voice that could only belong to one battleship.
"GAH!" Kirishima jumped so high she almost hit her head on the ceiling. "Wash! Stop
doing that!"
Wash just blinked in serene innocence. Crowning scarfed down a slice of toast to hide his laughter.
"Sorry," said Wash.
Kirishima huffed. "A-apology accepted, Wash. Did… did you have a nice night?" She didn't want to know the details. Really…
really didn't want to know. But at the same time, she loved Wash and wanted to make sure her friend was being treated well.
Wash nodded. "Very much, yes."
"Good," Kirishima sighed.
Without a word, Wash vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared.
"Someday I'm going to figure out how she does that," said Crowning with casual nonchalance.
Kirishima chuckled, almost more to herself. "Doctor?"
"Arthur," said Crowning reflexively.
"Arthur." Kirishima corrected herself. "Do… do you think you could take a look at something for me?"
"Sure," said Crowning. "More writing?"
"A new story, yes." Kirishima handed him a slim notebook. "It's… uh… an old knight finds herself on a strange shore."
"Always an interesting start."
"Thank you," said Kirishima. "She… um… falls in love with the magician."
Crowning shot her a knowing smile.
—|—|—
Pleasantly warm water of the Mexican Gulf washed against Alaska's tummy as she waded out up to her hips. Her belly was full of every kind of meat imaginable, so full that every wave that crashed against her slender body sent her dinner sloshing around inside her, eliciting a fury of giggles from the big cruiser. She was so full, in fact, that her tummy was noticeably less tight than usual. It was a very pleasant experience for the cruiser, and she would very much like to enjoy more of Christy's cooking soon.
"Hey hey," Cameron waved at her and playfully splashed saltwater at her face. Alaska didn't bother retaliating. Mostly because getting splashed with saltwater was all she ever did, but mostly because Cameron was shirtless and soaking wet, which made it impossible for her to focus.
"Hi," Alaska threw her arms around him and kissed him. They were far enough from the shore that she didn't feel quite so self-conscious about being affectionate. Also, he tasted like salt and boy, which made her happy.
Cameron braced himself against the sudden assault. His grip on her hips was firm, but gentle enough for Alaska to giggle with glee. "Someone's happy."
"'m always happy around you," Alaska nuzzled at her boyfriend's face and wrapped her arms around his strong back. The gentle motion of the waves jostled her hips, pressing them against Cameron's with each swell. Alaska enjoyed it too much to bother trying to stop.
Cameron chuckled and steadied the weak-kneed cruiser. "Me too," he said. "'Laska, I… uh…" he blushed. "Look at that sunset."
Alaska pivoted, her well-proportioned aft brushing against him as she settled into his arm. "Wow." The sea was on fire with the glimmering colors of the sun. Alaska closed her eyes and let the evening rays wash against her salt-dampened skin. "This is nice."
"It is, isn't it." Cameron pulled her a little closer, and Alaska wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She really,
really wanted him to hold her a little lower, but his hand stayed steadfastly around her waist. Which was okay, she guessed, but she'd really like to have him touch her aft. Just once would be okay.
"Um…" Alaska rested her head against his shoulder. "Do… do you wanna go ashore?"
"Mmm…" Cameron idly drew circles on her tummy with his finger, eliciting a few dopey giggles from the cruiser. "Do you?"
"Not really," said Alaska.
Cameron smiled. Then glanced at his feet through the choppy water. "Screw it."
"Hmm?"
"'Laska." Cameron shifted. Instead of standing side by side with the cruiser, he let his hands hang loosely off her hips and looked her square in the eyes. "I… know I'm not supposed to say this, but…"
"I love you," said Alaska. The large cruiser smiled that dopey, lidded smile she wore around him and leaned in for a kiss. "'m not supposed to say it either."
Cameron smiled. "I love you, 'laska." He closed his eyes and met her lips in a long kiss. He wasn't sure if he stepped in, if Alaska did, or if it was just the waves, but the next thing he knew the cool kiss of her skin was touching his. Her soft breasts tickled at his chest, her tummy brushed against his stomach, and her cool lips danced with his.
He knew he should probably be thinking about how hot the woman in his arms was, or something like that. But he wasn't. All he could think about was how happy Alaska was, and how happy
that made him.
