It was Stacy’s job to prepare breakfast, so she did not have time to ask the others about their dress. She just busied herself in the kitchen for a while. She was still wearing her coat. During that time, she heard her teammates gather around the table and start talking to themselves.
…
“I never got to comment. But your clothing is really nice. Green bra, green panties under that short skirt…” Marilyn was saying.
Naz made a bemused face. “I was having a spring break holiday in Abkhazia – Sukhumi – when the fighting and rioting began. This was an outfit for fun. Guaranteed to get your average amorous Georgian male interested in me. It was not meant to be my office – or regular – outfit. Crazily, the Benefactors got half a dozen and nothing else made and put them my wardrobe. So I guess I’ll have to wear it. Or any of the other six like it.”
“That would be total of seven?” Riley asked.
“There’s my original. And the six copies. They made exact copies of top, bottom, bra and panties.”
“Is there a skin colored bodysuit to go with it?” Angel asked.
“Yes,” Naz replied. “I have twelve bodysuits, labelled with different numbers. Only the cap I have fewer of – but even then I have four, so it’s way more than enough.”
…
“What’s yours, Riley?”
“I’m wearing it also, of course.”
“Wow, your skirt is really short. And the top is unbuttoned too. I thought you dress like that all the time.”
Riley made a face. “I was originally wearing a perfectly nice white top that buttoned up all the way and knee length skirt in Lithuania. Made me look like a respectable IT professional or school teacher. But because I got attacked, the criminals ripped my skirt off and then cut it into two. My top got popped. Sleeves ripped off. Marilyn just grabbed part of the skirt when helping me flee. Now they’ve just replicated what was left into this…” Riley blushed. It was pretty good looking, even if the original context had been terrible.
…
“You have a bodysuit too?” So well made were the bodysuits, that this wasn’t too obvious right away.
“Taip. Twelve also. So even if I appear to show a lot of skin, it actually isn’t skin. It’s just the skin colored bodysuit. In my color too!” Riley said.
“White European women shouldn’t have a problem with getting ‘skin colored’ outfits,” Angel commented randomly. “It’s Asians who have many skin colors.”
“Nope, nope,” Riley waved her pale hands. “Even by white European standards I’m extremely fair. Off the charts fair. Practically paper-white. My skin tone is hard to find in European stores. But they replicated my bodysuit with such a perfectly matching color; I really can’t help but want to wear it.”
…
Angel put her hands on her hips. “I got rescued in my cheerleading outfit, and so they duplicated this along with a skin colored bodysuit. Now I have a whole bunch of skin colored bodysuits and a few changes of clothing that are the exact same cheerleading outfits. Looks like I have become a permanent cheerleader.”
“Any idea what the numbers are for? I just took one of those labelled 1. I guess it’s human nature to start at 1,” Marilyn said.
Stacy’s eyebrows went up slightly. Marilyn had seemed perfectly fluent in Russian, but she didn’t actually say 1. She said First. Which is Pervyy.
But would Marilyn know what pervy meant in English?
“I tried one of each number, so I figured it out,” Naz replied. “Firstly, all bodysuits have multiple layers of thin fabric. I think it’s 3 layers each.
Then, there are four sizes. Size 1 is an exact fit. Size 2, 3 and 4 are bigger.”
“Wow, the Benefactors have kindly considered the possibility of us putting on weight.”
“Actually, I got the impression they’re for all year use. Size 1 is meant to be worn next to skin. Size 2 is to be worn on top of Size 1. Size 3 on top of Size 1 and 2. And Size 4 is to be used only when very cold. It is worn on top of the other 3 Sizes.”
Angel laughed.
“Looks like nobody else checked their mailboxes.”
“Uh, we just got on board. There was too much to do.”
“Well, I guess that’s true,” Angel said. Because Naz, Riley and Marilyn had to run the ship, they were preoccupied with reading manuals and inspecting the controls. Because Angel’s task was cleaning and the ship had started out clean, she did not need to do anything right away.
“All right, let me explain,” Angel told the rest. “Naz is right. We have six bodysuits of the smallest size. They are meant to be worn next to the skin – basically most of the time. 3 bodysuits are slighter bigger and for putting on in colder weather. Another 2 more are even bigger, and will have to be worn over the first two during even colder weather. And the last, biggest bodysuit is for very cold weather.
And there is a rating system. The first is good for preserving body heat from 22 down to around 12 celsius. You need the second to go down to 2C. The third is good until -8C. The fourth is expected to keep you warm until -18.”
“-18C isn’t good for the depths of winter in most of Russia,” Marilyn groused. “And only one set for the coldest days?”
“Hey, these are just the bodysuits. We have lots of winter wear in our store. I suppose that for when we carry out operations outdoors when it is colder than -18C.”
“Hmm…”
“So we only stop wearing skin-colored stuff when it is really extremely cold. Got it,” Naz said.
“Don’t forget, each bodysuit is actually comprised of three thin layers of silk and lab grown fur blend. If you’re wearing four bodysuits on top of each other, that’s a total of 12 layers. It’s safe to assume that body heat will be preserved and we wouldn’t need extra clothes at the stipulated temperature.”
“Not to mention, because the bodysuits make you look naked, you’re actually going to be wearing more clothes on top anyway.”
“Hmm…” Marilyn didn’t seem to agree.
…
As the talking died down, attention turned to Stacy.
“Stacy? Why are you still wearing your coat?”
“Do you never take off your coat?”
Stacy sighed and blushed slightly. “You may not know what I was doing in Moscow earlier, since you only saw me in my coat which I didn’t take off. But I was going home after attending a Comicon.”
“Say again?” Angel asked.
“A comics convention. Actually, a manga and anime lovers’ event.”
“And?”
“I was doing cosplay.”
“Oh, these! Lots of women wear skimpy costumes to get photographed!” Marilyn said.
“Well, they’re not always skimpy. But too often are,” Stacy said. “And this is what I was wearing under my coat.”
Stacy opened her coat to show that she was wearing a two-piece bunny outfit underneath. The top had a collar and short sleeves, but also showed substantial cleavage. Then there was nothing in between until a very brief pair of shorts, paired with garters and stockings.
“Wow. Reminds me of a certain Bashmachkin,” Angel commented quietly.
“Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin? Can’t be. Stacy is the complete opposite,” Marilyn muttered.
Marilyn felt very sensitive to comparisons with Gogol’s story The Overcoat, because she also wore a military coat. And had carried out orders that she regretted.
Angel and Marilyn’s commentary went unheard, because Naz was exclaiming. “Oh my… that’s really…”
“You were serving as a playboy waitress?” Angel asked directly.
“No, no! This is just cosplay!” Stacy lifted both hands defensively. “It’s not Playboy’s design anyway.”
“To think that one of the most famous journalists in our region cosplays as a bunny girl…” Marilyn grinned. “All the tough guys you humiliate in your articles and investigations would be salivating.”
“And doing goodness knows what while scrolling through your photos!” Naz interjected mischievously.
“Hey, don’t say!” Riley waved a white hand. “After Marilyn told me about the lingerie catalogue that the ship builders left in the toilet, I wanted to scrub everything down just in case some jerk, well, did something!”
Stacy shook her head with a rueful grin. “I had no clue that I would be attacked, rescued, and then multiple copies made of my comicon clothes, all right? I can’t imagine wearing this on missions.”
Marilyn pushed gently on Stacy’s shoulders. Stacy removed her coat entirely so Marilyn could examine Stacy’s clothing more closely.
“Actually, I can. You also got these bodysuits. The Bunny Girl outfit is just decoration on top of your skin colored bodysuit, so that you don’t look naked. And this is – we all got – very good quality material. Not spandex or nylon. Like the rest of our bodysuits, some kind of silk-fur based blend in multiple layers. Exactly in your skin color, some more!”
“Silk is one of the most resilient materials in the world by weight. And each bodysuit is comprised of three layers. It will keep you warm, and might even be partially bulletproof if you are wearing two or three bodysuits on top,” Angel added with a grin.
“Oh, a bulletproof bunny girl’s outfit?”
“And you? The cheerleader?”
“It’s incredibly comfortable,” Angel responded. “Materials like these will keep me warm at the right times, cool at others. Silk is truly luxurious. I could definitely wear this all day.”
…
“You know, I really feel as though this is Soviet engineering in a way,” Naz said. “Our clothes are not actually badly made. They fit me; they are made of good materials and quite resilient. Even suited for the climate. Very sound materials engineering. But there seems to have been Zero thought put into the social context of the user.”
Everyone nodded. They all knew Soviet ergonomics. It was always ergonomic for the theoretical scientist or quota-fulfilling bureaucrat, never for the actual human user.
“I bet you some materials engineer called Dimitry cooked up the fabrics in his lab. Then some industrial designer named Boris took the scans of your clothes and body. And then handed the specs to some engineer called Ivan who arranged for the twelvefold replication in similar dimensions. All without considering whether the end user would actually want to wear such clothes all the time.”
“Oh, if the engineer was some guy called Yamato, he might actually believe women like wearing such clothes all the time,” Stacy observed. That was why most female cosplay costumes were very skimpy.
…
Stacy thought for a while. As insanely inappropriate as her costume appeared, it did appeal to a certain fantasy in her, as well as many women who had watched anime and attended anime related events.
The desire to be a superhero while being irresistably attractive to potential mates.
And now come to think of it, what was wrong with this outfit? Hollywood and American comic book heroines also dressed really sexy. And Stacy wasn’t even actually exposing her real skin to the elements. As long as the material was comfortable and it was protective, was it anti-feminist?
And this was an all-girls ship anyway!
Pacing up and down the kitchen, Stacy thought to herself: I am being mentored and nurtured to become a spellcaster. And wizards and sorceresses in fantasy works tend to dress outrageously sexy. So why am I feeling upset that I got issued a costume that makes me look like a bunny girl?
In the first place, the costume was replicated from clothes that I was actually wearing at the time of my rescue!
Stacy looked down and felt her face growing hot.
Stacy actually had a figure that many men and women would die for. Most of the time she kept it covered, since she didn’t want undue attention focused on her body. The anime convention was actually her first time wearing something so skimpy – and Stacy had actually lost her nerve at the last minute, so she kept her coat on! But now she could let go of her inhibitions…
I’ve decided, Stacy told herself after a while. If I’m going to make a break with my previous life, I’ll wear this. This will be me, Stacy the Spellcaster; Anastasia the Archmage.
“And what about you, Marilyn?” Naz asked.
Marilyn made a bashful grin, then removed her military coat. Stacy gasped. The others already knew, so they didn’t say anything.
Marilyn was dressed in the most incredible lace underwear. It was practically a seductress’ outfit. Even a prostitute would not dare dress like this when soliciting clients.
Then Marilyn put her hands on her hips and made a few model-like poses. She turned around a few times. And Stacy figured out.
It was another skin-colored bodysuit worn under what appeared to be skimpy lace underwear on the outside. Really quite similar to the outwardly sexy, nude colored outfits some ice skating stars wore, except with far superior materials.
“So you’re playing Superwoman,” Stacy said with a smile.
“Uh?” Marilyn was not getting it.
“Superman was famous for wearing his undies outside his costume,” Stacy smiled. “And you, Marilyn, appear to be wearing your lingerie outside your bodysuit!”
“Hm!” Naz had a big smile on her face. It appeared the others were waiting for Stacy to discover new things about Marilyn.
“But how did they make this for you? Don’t tell me you were wearing lingerie like this in an Uzbek prison?”
“I was originally wearing nothing,” Marilyn said. “Because I had to wriggle out of the last pipe, and it was really tight even for someone my size. Not to mention I was told to leave behind the convict overalls.”
“So you ran naked to the MMM?” This was something that Naz had not heard about.
“Come on! I still had underwear on, and boarded the MMM like that. Was told that I would get clothes on board. And I was really keen to shed my disgusting, unwashed, stinky convict garb anyway.”
There was a pause as everybody took in the information.
In American jailbreak movies, the prisoner escapes by crawling through a sewage tunnel easily big enough for a man, and gets to exit into a nice rainshower that washes him clean. Unfortunately Marilyn was in Uzbekistan, a country with only a fifth as much rainfall. And sewage tunnels were smaller, to match the expected rainfall. So even despite being petite and having lost weight in prison, she wound up having to shed her prison overalls to avoid getting stuck. And there was no sweet shower to greet Marilyn when she exited her tunnel.
If Marilyn’s prison escape scene was being made for Japanese TV, it would probably be censored because Marilyn looked really disgusting when she finally crawled out of that sewage tunnel. She considered herself lucky enough to exit into a ditch that was dry. Better than being filled with pesticide and uranium runoff, like the Syr Darya!
…
“So you got this underwear? I find it hard to believe. Your Benefactors gave you sexy lingerie?” Stacy had believed that her Benefactors were serious people. Now she was nonplussed. Was this some kind of sexual harassment?
Stacy could not help but look up at the ceiling. Riley guessed what she was thinking.
“Looking for hidden cameras? Yeah, that’s what I feared too,” Riley said. “Almost thought some jerk was making a reality show out of this. But Marilyn and I have been all over the ship; we’ve studied the schematics and stuff. There are no surveillance cameras inside the ship except for the control room. Which have not been activated yet. Because the only use of these cameras, is if we’re outside the ship and want to see who is controlling it.”
Marilyn now explained that she had gotten on board the MMM as its first member. She had boarded dirty all over, so she took a bath first. She had immediately stripped off and soaked her filthy underwear in a sink full of soap, planning to wash them. Since the interior of the ship was not yet finished, there was no washer nor dryer on board at that time. Even the shower head had not been installed, so she was actually washing from a pipe.
But after her bath, Marilyn had nothing to wear and there were no clothes on board. So she was reduced to wearing a towel when she met her Benefactors.
“I was told to get whatever clothing I needed by telling my Benefactors’ aide,” Marilyn grinned bashfully. “He showed up onscreen when my Benefactors signed out. But he was clearly some useless minion. Had no clue what makhsi was, or khan-atlas.”
Angel’s eyes grew dreamy. “I don’t think anybody can describe what Uzbek women’s dress looks like in words.”
“I can,” Stacy said, her journalistic instinct activated. “Full length silk tunics in a riot of rainbow colors and geometric patterns.”
To Marilyn, Stacy asked, “Pardon me, but you were in Uzbekistan at that time?”
Stacy wanted to gather as much information about the Benefactors as possible. And this was the first time she had heard that the Benefactors did have an aide with them who offered assistance remotely.
Marilyn nodded. “That aide, like my and everybody’s Benefactors, was also just a silhouette. I never saw his real face. But talking to that aide did reveal that this is some sort of international organization. This guy had no clue about the nice Uzbek stuff I was trying to describe. I couldn’t place his accent, but I’m guessing some ignorant marsh dweller in Belarus…”
“Hey, don’t put down Belarusians!” Riley interjected unexpectedly.
Stacy reflected that Riley might have a soft spot for Belarus, since Lithuania and Belarus were the same country for hundreds of years.
“All right, sorry,” Marilyn continued smiling. “Anyway he was really out of his depth about Turkic culture and had no clue about women’s dress in general. And I really wanted some underwear at that point, because it’s so ridiculous to have a long conversation with some male stranger while wearing just a towel.”
Marilyn waved an arm randomly.
“Since the ship interior was not finished at that time, there was very little reading material. Just some physical manuals – like the one for the Japanese toilets, the one for the Lada, and so on. There was no non-technical reading material on board, except for a lingerie catalog in the toilet. I guess it was left behind by some of the guys who originally built this airship.”
“That definitely sounded like what men would do,” Riley sniffed. “In the toilet, no less.”
“So I randomly pointed out some sexy lingerie that I could never have afforded normally, and also asked for a military coat.”
“And that’s what you got?” Stacy almost wanted to laugh.
“What else could I do? The guys who left the lingerie catalog in the toilet, didn’t also leave a proper catalogue of regular women’s wear! So I meant to get more clothes later,” Marilyn answered. “Unfortunately the aide didn’t come back. And our communications with the Benefactors are one-sided, so I couldn’t do anything until they contacted us again.”
Marilyn made a bemused grin and turned around again for everybody to see.
“I never realized that my lingerie request was going to be combined with a bodysuit and replicated many times over as my only clothing option!”
Riley sat down. “My skirt is so short it’s impossible to avoid showing panties when I’m seated. If this wasn’t an all-girls airship, I wouldn’t know where to hide my face.”
“Why do you even need to hide your face?” Angel asked. Angel normally did not sit with knees together, so her pink panties were visible almost all the time. And Angel never considered hiding her face.
Riley looked at Angel, then looked away. She didn’t know how to respond to this forthright question.
“Well, I don’t want to get harassed,” Riley said after a few seconds.
“If men wanted to sexually harass women, they would do so regardless of whether the woman’s panties were visible,” Angel pointed out. “So you have to establish dominance over the guys always.” And Angel made a gesture, clenching one hand in another hand. “I’m not afraid of men getting fresh with me, because I can overpower them.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Riley said simply.
“Men respect domination and hierarchy. So you have to show them who’s boss in some other way,” Angel suggested. “Such as by controlling all the tech devices. Men are more respectful of people who control technology.”
“Especially big machines,” Naz added. “That’s why men treat me fine at work.”
Marilyn stuck out her tongue. “It also helps that you always carry big metal tools around.”
Naz responded by spinning a ring spanner on one finger. Naz was only doing this casually, but you could see that Naz’s fingers weren’t weak.
Now Naz adjusted her position. “I don’t know if everyone is experiencing the same problem. But my bodysuit is a perfect fit for my body. Which means I have to be nude under my skin-colored bodysuit. The green bra and panties you see on me are worn outside my bodysuit.”
“Same here,” Riley said. “My bodysuit fits like a skin so I have been wearing panties and bra outside.”
“Whew, so my experience is not unique,” Stacy put on a look of mirth. “Well, if anybody here ever wanted to be Superman, we now know how it feels to wear your underwear outside a second-skin bodysuit.”
“I’m all right with being dressed like this,” Angel commented. “The quality is impressive. The bodysuits should be comfortable at the stipulated temperature range of -18C to 22C.”
“Nice to know it’s meant for us to wear all year round,” Marilyn said. “So I’ll get to look as though I’m in nothing but sexy lingerie all the time. At least you don’t look as though you’re wearing your underwear outside.”
It was hard to tell whether Marilyn was annoyed or mildly entertained by that prospect.
“I am wearing my underwear outside,” Angel replied. “Because I have the same exact-fitting bodysuit as everyone else!”
“Come to think of it,” Stacy voiced a sentiment, “why can’t we wear our underwear outside?”
“Female modesty,” Angel said with a snort. “You hear a lot about that in Central Asia nowadays. It’s a favorite topic of Muslims – at least, the men.”
“Women’s dress and women’s bodies are a favorite topic of men everywhere,” Riley offered. “Religion is just being used as a tool.”
Stacy looked over her team. “Men like to regulate women’s dress. This is modest for good girls, that is slutty for bad girls, whatever. But we’re living on this ship, and we’re going to get off only for field missions, resupply and to have fun. Do we need social approval – male approval – for how we dress?”
Naz looked determined. “Never.”
Voting
Stacy took a deep breath. “Let’s vote on this. Do we stick with our benefactor-supplied outfits, or do we use common funds to buy, well, more socially approved clothing for everyone?”
“Male social approval can go off and -ahem- play with – itself. No need to use common funds for our clothes. Those who still dislike their clothes can buy on their own tiyin!” Angel was the first to vote.
“I agree with Angel!” Naz asserted. “Clothing is personal and subjective. Use your own tetri if you want anything not issued as standard!”
“Uh… tetris? What has tetris got to do with this?” Angel didn’t get it.
“It’s not a Soviet-era game that Naz is talking about,” Riley said.
“Georgian currency. Kopeck is equivalent to tiyin is equivalent to tetri,” Naz explained.
Riley smiled thinly. “Many companies in the West do offer a clothing allowance for professional attire. I vote to use common funds and make us look more like, well, international professionals.”
Stacy looked at Marilyn. “Well?”
Marilyn had a bashful smile. “I would prefer to use common funds. But the Uzbek stuff I’d like to wear – at least, I fantasize about wearing – is really expensive. And not that available in most places.”
“Not even remotely suitable for field missions,” Angel grinned. “Impossible to camouflage an Uzbek woman wearing Uzbek clothes except among other Uzbek women wearing Uzbek clothes.”
“We might have fights in bazaars,” Marilyn pointed out mischievously. “I could use our satellite internet to download Jackie Chan movies; we could learn some things…”
“No fights in bazaars,” Stacy said firmly. “We always must focus on the real wrongdoers, and minimize collateral damage.”
“…And then I think about what would happen if everybody wanted their own attire,” Marilyn made a wide open gesture with her hands. “I’m not sure if the cost is worth it. If we use communal funds, we might end up spending way too much on clothes like many women. So I want to be practical and realistic. I’m happy with a lingerie bodysuit on board and a military overcoat covering that when on missions. Can get other clothes later.”
Marilyn looked at her teammates. “Use personal funds for personal clothes if you don’t like what the Benefactors have given you as standard issue.”
The vote was already 3-1, so it didn’t matter which way Stacy voted. But even the leader had the right to express her views, so Stacy had to say her piece.
“Truth be told, I was more than a bit embarrassed by my pseudo-playboy bunny outfit being replicated and offered as a regular outfit,” Stacy said. “But on second thoughts, why am I embarrassed? Women have the right to wear whatever they like.
We are all from countries that got ‘free’ of the so-called evil empire USSR in 1991. We’re supposed to be enjoying Freedom. It’s no man’s business – nor other woman’s business – to dictate what we choose to wear.”
Stacy raised her arms and turned around for everyone to see.
“All right, so the design has a more sexual emphasis than I’d normally like. But it’s not showing any real skin. The bodysuit feels great and really protects my real skin. I’ll stick with this bodysuit for work. Along the way I might buy other clothes to cover this bunny outfit, but that’s my private business. Not with communal funds.”
Riley nodded in a businesslike manner. “Then it is 4-1. I concede loss; we do not use communal funds for clothing.”
“You closed the debate?” Stacy asked Riley.
“Yes. You can frame the conclusion if you like.”
“Then I’ll frame it like this. Our vote is currently not to use communal funds for clothing. But I’ll frame it narrowly as ‘for personal usage’. Therefore keeping open our options when on a mission. We might need to purchase clothes for disguise.”
“This makes sense,” Angel said. “My cheerleader’s outfit feels good and looks good. But when on a mission I would not like to look too obvious. Would be nice to get something to cover it up on group funds.”