Characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Spelling/grammatical/story telling errors want to be corrected. Thank you so much, Corvyie!

Cursed With a Blessing

I used to feel like something was missing between my legs and wonder why I felt that way. This urge I couldn't identify and therefore couldn't satisfy. Why? Why did my fellow countries voices became deeper, and mine only richer? I thought something was wrong with me, my chest- there is something wrong with my chest...

It shouldn't be this way.

I can't go to battle like this. There is a mysterious pain in my side and no one has struck me. Is this witchcraft? Oh God, why am I bleeding? Why from there? I've been poisoned! I've been poisoned!

It shouldn't be this way!

I am no man.

That was my ailment, my condition, my problem. My people were shocked, my bosses quickly assembled to teach me new rules that were apparently supposed to apply to my kind. Not being human, the whole ordeal might as well just washed over me. These urges I could not explain before now made perfect sense. The things that came after the kissing, the touching, the rubbing. What I wanted to do to certain people, to other men, I could not do. Desires of what I wished to do to certain beautiful women, impossible.

Yes, I am no man. I will not grow a penis. Where Italy grew out of dresses, my body will grow curves, but not due to muscle growth.

But it should not be this way.

The only way to be who I really thought I was, was to enter dreamland. A place not held by logic, where anything and everything would be accepted as reality. The desire to make these dreams reality would consume me, tossing me into one daydream to the next. These would form into plans, horrible plans filled with blood and vengeance.

It would always start with a knife. No longer than my young forearm but the thinnest and sharpest I could ever commission. After that, things get blurry. I do not know the setting, the time, the place. It always felt it had to be done soon and somewhere private. Somewhere no one could hear me cry.

The knife could be held in any hand, pressed against my collar bone as that would be my measurement of how deeply I would plunge. I would plan that I would be calm, quick and instantly pleased. Today, I would imagine a shivering, terrified child. One trying to breathe slowly, yet every intake would come as a gasp. Despite having a high tolerance for pain, I would've never been prepared for the pain that would quickly swallow me, tears would flood my eyes if they hadn't started already.

But I wanted it so much.

I would gasp as I delivered my first stab. I would not have expected the knife to feel so cold. But after the shock wore out, the anger would return. Cutting fiercely, I would leave a large, oval red gap. Blood running down my stomache, my legs and pooling on the floor right where that damned thing now lied. It was never apart of me mentally. Now gone, I felt more complete. I would not give it a second look as I would be too busy working on the second. These mammary glands, these breasts, boobs, tits. Just excess weight! Yes, I am just losing weight! No longer would these useless bags of weight get in my way! I will be a man!

Because this would get me close to my goal, right?

There would've been so much blood to clean up. It would not help that I would've joyfully kicked those things like pebbles on a path when I was done. If I hadn't passed out, I would take what cloth I had to wrap my new chest tightly and proudly. Tossing my rotting womanhood to the wilderness. The bears would have more use with it than would I.

I wanted it so much.

I was so close to doing it too, but thanks to your uncontrollable flaw you might as well saved my life. In such days where there was no easy way to clean a simple arrow wound, let alone amputating useless limbs. It might as well have been suicide. I have no idea what I would've done to my most accursed part of me, the true mark of a woman. I might have ripped myself inside out. Fading from the world with a smile on my face.

But not that much.

But then I thought of you. How devastated you would have been to hear of my sudden, confusing death. You whose life was already harsh enough, has already made you shed so many tears. I could not bear to be the cause of more.

But then I thought of you if I had succeeded. If I found someone with the right tools, had the powerful magic to rid me of my woe. I would have still lost, and even worse than before.

This much.

I noticed while other countries took advantage to whomever they were married to- male or female, you continued to hold such a stiff regimen. I watched as Slovakia had eagerly stroked your hair back with such an eager grin on his face. You let him do that, but just as he could begin tugging at your belt, you snatched his wrist and growled,

"This is only, only for the sake of my people." You tossed his hand aside, but it came again to stroke your cheek,

"Well then," he was not deterred, "you might as well enjoy it."

But you didn't.

Never.

Your indifference to other men was so strange, almost human-like. Even as you became so lost in all of these failed marriages which always held strong. I had no idea if I ever could have been the exception, but I would not dare risk it. As I would much rather have died you loving me than have survived and you reject me. We have done so much together, for better or worse. We would have squabbles, but they never lasted long. You would make me think strange things, things I never thought before...

I love you.

This friendship is not enough, but is it enough for you?

I love you.

What will it take to make you love me?

What I wanted to do to you as I held you down naked, hot, pressing you into the sheets I did not have the equipment for. I would have to improvise with my mind. These are not my fingers I slip into you. I am hard, thrusting, making you gasp with pleasure. Yes.

Strange, you have no problem with a woman dominating you.

This shouldn't feel alien.

What will it take to make you love me? Apparently not much. When you look at me, there is this look in your eyes that I never saw when you looked at any other country. For some reason I am even able to shrug off your most annoying habits. Yes, it was worth it to be around you for the good parts. This must be love. What else could torture me so?

I hate my body, but it may be the only reason you see me more than a friend. And I know it is hardly your fault, I know you wished it could be a choice too. It would have made those hard times with everyone else so much easier...

You are weak, but your personality is strong. Your dreams of a better world I share as well, even if the path there was the wrong one. I don't know where I would be today without you. Perhaps if you didn't exist, neither would I. On their own, I do not want what I have. But if these breasts, this vagina brings you to me, you who only looks at your fellow gender with disinterest. No desire, no touch, no kisses...

No love.

It shouldn't be this way.

I will never be the man I want to be. For you, I will be a woman. Because yes, I honestly think me living with myself, unloved by you, is worse than death. Even worse than my dream come true.

It shouldn't be this way,
but that's how it is.

I don't like replying to reviews in a story, but when someone doesn't leave any other way to contact, what can you do? I hope this doesn't end up longer than the story itself...

Oh Anna, thank you very much. I'm not aware of what is happening politically in Hungary right now. As I type this up my mind has been circling around Polska and the major oil spill Gulf of Mexico. But I want you to know, there is nothing to be ashamed of feeling this way. Ever. I promise you despite what extremists and misplaced well wishers say, you are not twisted. Personally, I find you less twisted then the people who never question this obviously, clearly unfair system. How dare they.

What these short minded, hurtful people don't seem to realize is these gender labels are only in our heads. Even if I did like the colour pink, it would not make me less a man than it would make a someone else more feminine. If you have a vagina, you have a vagina. The only thing forcing you to label it is your culture and society. Despite popular (non-scientific) belief, having a vagina does not guarantee breasts, no less than having a penis will prevent you from needing a bra.

As much as my Scottish self grins like an idiot every time I see a fellow man in a kilt, I always wonder if the poor bloke is only wearing a kilt because wearing anything else flowy will find him dead in an alleyway. Skirts/dresses don't pinch that special place like trousers/pants can, I can't figure out why most cultures are so against the idea.

What really angers me is that there are more than 2 genders on this planet. XXY, YXY, YYY, etc. They exist, but are forced into a world that refuses to let them be themselves. People who claim homosexuality, asexuality, bi, or pan unnatural when it is shown so often in nature itself. Dolphins, wild and domestic dogs, cats and birds...

Don't give into what they say Anna. I'm not saying, live it loud, live it proud; but live smartly. Work with what you have to get yourself into a place that will openly accept you whatever you choose to be. After all, in a certain Scandinavian country, it's popular for a straight couple to have the woman use a strap on and do her man like a yaoi manga. XD

I'm going to assume you don't have a fanfiction account, but if you do have a DeviantArt or LiveJournal you (or anyone else) can PM me from there (links are on my author's page). Good luck to you, good luck to anyone who feels like this, if only occasionally or for the rest of your life.