I thought of this little plot bunny, and it refused to leave me alone! But I did have a bit of fun writing this. And I AM excited to be publishing my SECOND story! Huzzah!

I don't own Hetalia!

It was once again time for the World Conference, and the nations had made themselves comfortable in the meeting room. Or as comfortable as they could while trying to postpone the inevitable chaos. They all waited impatiently for the hosting nation, America, to show up. He was fifteen minutes late as is.

"Bloody hell! Where is he?" England said in an irritable manner. He was frustrated with his former colony. He had been so promising at first. He showed signs of being a proper young lad, but that all went down the drain when he adopted his rebellious attitude.

"Perhaps he smelled the lunch you brought, and ran for fear that he might be forced to eat it." France said with a flourish.

"He made the wise choice. I can smell that foul odor all the way over here." Romano grumbled.

"Shut the hell up! My cooking is top notch!" England glared at the offending nations.

"You know, it's amazing how young Amérique managed to survive as long as he did with that poison you call food." France antagonized the island nation further.

"This coming from the git who thinks snails are bloody delicious!" England poked the Frenchman in the chest.

"It's all in how you prepare it, Angleterre. But you wouldn't know that being the lousy cook you are." France said with a grin, causing the two of them to start one of their infamous fights. The others either ignored them, or took bets on who would win.

"Disregarding their immature squabble, I do have to agree with one thing. Where is America? We can't start without the hosting nation." Germany asked the remaining nations.

"I received a call from Prussia. Apparently America lost a bet with him, and has to follow through with the consequences." Sweden said from his chair.

"Wait. Is that why we were told to leave Sealand at home?" Finland asked next to him, and received a solemn nod for an answer. This caught the attention of many nations.

"So what does he have to do? I bet it'll be embarrassing." Denmark whipped out a camera in anticipation.

"I don't know the details, but Prussia warned against any and all children showing up today." Sweden answered.

"Mein Gott. What has my idiot brother done this time?" Germany facepalmed.

All the commotion in the room was interrupted by Prussia barging in. Everyone, England and France included, turned to the albino. He scanned the room, and got a satisfied smile on his face.

"Das ist gut! Everyone minus the kiddies are here!" He said with a triumphant grin.

"Bruder! What is the meaning of this?! Why am I hearing things about a bet?! Where is America?!" Germany assaulted his older brother with a barrage of questions only for Prussia to place a calming hand on the fuming German.

"Chill out, West. Alfie and I just had a competition to see who could hold his liquor better, and the awesome me won. Now he just has to suffer the consequences." Prussia said with a huge smirk.

"Wait! The drinking age in America is 21. America's "official" age is 19. You instigated under-age drinking?!" Germany was becoming increasingly frustrated with his brother.

"Actually, Germany-san, it is legal for an adult over 18 to drink in America as long as an adult over 21 gives permission." Japan corrected.

"Ja, the Jappy gets it! Besides, he's had beer before. It's all good." Prussia slapped Germany across his back.

"Please don't call me that." Japan said quietly.

Germany gave his brother a dry look before he sighed and said, "Fine. You can go through with the consequences of losing the bet after the meeting."

"Nein! It has to happen now!" Prussia all but yelled.

"Are you sure the lad isn't suffering the consequences right now? Hang overs are no laughing matter." England said in sympathy. He shuddered as he remembered all the bad hang overs he had.

"Nah! America has long since bounced back. Besides, the thing I have planned is pure gold!" Prussia gave an impossibly wide smile.

"Whatever it is! It has to wait until after the meeting! We won't get anything done otherwise!" Germany said in a sharp tone.

"I kinda agree with Germany." America said as he walked in with a form fitting suit. The nations, minus a smirking Prussian, all gaped at the American. The suit was pitch black with a crisp white shirt, and a dark blue tie. The suit was tight on him, but in a very flattering way. It made him look trim, and extremely desirable. America lightly blushed at all the attention he was getting.

"Ah, you're just trying to chicken out." Prussia said flatly.

"Like you wouldn't do the same in my shoes!" America yelled, obviously embarrassed by something. Nobody understood why, though. He looked outstanding.

"I wouldn't. I'm just too awesome to be embarrassed by such trivial things." Prussia shrugged off.

"You look great, America!" Italy said cheerily.

"Ohonhonhon! Ma petite Amérique has become such a delicious looking young man, non?" France said with a creepy smile causing America's blush to worsen.

"America… you clean up rather nicely." England said with a blush of his own, unable to look at the American for some unknown reason.

"America is quite the catch, da?" Russia said with his own creepy smile.

Japan was taking several pictures of the embarrassed nation from all angles. He suddenly had an idea for a new anime based on his dressed up appearance, and wanted a strong reference to go back to.

The nations all either muttered compliments, looked away with blushes, stared creepily, or were innocently looking at his nice suit up and down.

"Hey, America? Why does your pants have buttons on the sides of the legs?" Italy asked, and America was completely red now. Some nations, like France, instantly caught on what the consequence of losing the bet was with that one question, while others were wondering the same thing.

"You shall see. All right boys! Bring them in!" Prussia yelled, and Germany sighed in defeat. Even if they did start the meeting now, everyone would be too distracted by America to pay attention.

Everyone watched with shocked, excited, or down right perverted expressions as a few men brought in a stripper pole, a stage, some flashy lights, and a boom box. They went to work setting things up, and many nations gave America bewildered expressions. No wonder the kids had to stay home. America was supposed to give them all a rather adult performance. America wanted to die right then so he wouldn't have to go through with it. He would never live this down. He mentally cursed Prussians and their unnatural alcohol tolerances.

The installation of the pole, stage, and lights went rather quickly, and they left when they were done. Prussia gave America an expectant look. Said nation was determined to not move from that spot.

"Come on America. The pole is set up now, and your audience is waiting." Prussia teased with a highly amused smirk.

"Is there any way I can back out of this?" America pleaded, but his cries of mercy fell on deaf ears he realized as Prussia pushed him onto the small stage.

America looked at the crowd of nations below him. Many of them still looked too shocked that he, of all people, was going to do something like this while others looked on with perverted anticipation. Hungary had blood dripping down her nose, and had her camera out and ready. His stomach sank all the way down to his feet when it dawned on him at last that he was stuck. He had to do this, or he would be labeled a chicken for the rest of time, and he would receive endless ridicule for that. It was better to follow through with what he promised, instead of backing out. He gathered his determination, and summoned all of his Hollywood acting skills. He would need every last drop of it to put on the performance of a lifetime. He didn't care how humiliating it was, he absolutely refused to half-ass a performance of any kind.

Everyone watched as the blushing nation closed his eyes, and appeared to concentrate. His blush slowly went away, and the lights went out. Music started up, and a spotlight and a bunch of flashy lights lit up the small stage with the stripper pole.

America whipped off his glasses, and flung them somewhere to the side. His eyes opened, but they were very different from the eyes they were used to seeing. Instead of being wide and innocent, they were sultry and full of lust. The shock holding onto the majority of the nations only grew. They had no idea that America had this side to him. Hungary and France had blood gushing out of their noses. Hungary started to take pictures with Japan, and Italy fainted.

America started to twirl and hug the pole, all the while giving everyone looks that they only thought France could pull off. He undid his tie, and threw it to the side. The first few buttons on his shirt was undone, and everyone could see the glistening skin underneath. Did America bathe in oil before the strip dance?

He continued to dance with the pole like a professional. Every move he made hypnotize the entire crowd, and he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. He even made something like the removal of his jacket look intimate. That's when many of them realized that he wasn't just dancing around while taking off his clothes. No. He was somehow making love to the very performance itself. He had a few of them riled up already, and he wasn't even half naked yet. A certain Englishman was finding it very hard to keep his eyes from traveling all over his former colony's body. He refused to be as perverted as a certain Frenchman, but found himself unable to look away.

One by one, the buttons of the dress shirt became undone as he danced, and ripped the shirt off in one swift motion. The nations gaped and gawked in utter fascination. They had teased America about being fat countless times in the past, but it was never clearer than now that there wasn't an ounce of fat on his stomach. His six pack and well defined pecks were glossed over with either sweat or oil. They couldn't decide which, and they didn't care. America's toned muscles rippled underneath his skin as he continued to dance. His back was just as stunning as his front, and it was easy to see how he was so strong with how thick his arms were. He could rival Germany and Russia with how strong he looked.

Suddenly, but in a way that didn't disrupt his performance, America ripped off the pants. It was obvious that his upper body wasn't the only part of him that was well toned. His legs, hairless and shiny, had the just the same amount of definition as his upper body. His calves were captivating. His thighs were mesmerizing. His ass was out of this world. But the thing that caught everyone's attentions was the American Flag speedo he wore that hid an obviously big package. Japan and France couldn't take anymore and joined Italy in unconsciousness. Hungary was furiously taking pictures at this point. She didn't want any part of this undocumented. Russia got a nose bleed of his own, and China had unknowingly started to drool.

It wasn't long before his socks and shoes were off, and the only thing that had remained unveiled to the crowd was the body part that hid behind the speedo. They weren't sure if America would be brash enough to show them his private parts. He had always been a bit of a prude when it came to nudity, and looked away anytime anyone showed too much of their body. Certainly America wouldn't be so brave.

America proved them all wrong when he pulled his speedo off at the very end of the song. Now nothing was left to the imagination, and several nations fainted because of this. Among those fainted were Hungary and England. Some of the male nations balked at how big America was, and suddenly felt sad.

The flashy lights turned off, and the normal lights turned on. America seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and the blush returned tenfold, going all the way down to his collarbone. His hands flew to his privates in an effort to save what little dignity he had left, but the damage had already been done.

Prussia approached him with his glasses, and a pair of boxers. A small stream of blood came out of his nose, and he gave the mortified country a big smile and a thumbs up. America glared at him, and quickly put on the boxers and glasses.

"I hate you." he hissed before he stomped out of the room.

"That's impossible. I'm too awesome to be hated." Prussia answered, and Germany snapped out of his stupor. He looked around as everyone else slowly came out of their own dazes, or remained unconscious on the floor.

"Looks like we'll have to postpone the meeting until tomorrow. I don't think we'd get anything done at this point." Germany sighed.

"I wouldn't count on that, bruder." Prussia said wiping away the blood on his lip.

"And why is that?" Germany asked in an annoyed tone.

"The pole was rented for the entire week. Alfie has six more of these to do." Prussia said much to the delight of some, and horror of others.

"WHAAAAAT?!" Germany screamed.

"Oh, but don't worry. He has a different outfit each day. Tomorrow he's a scantily clad Princess Peach." Prussia declared, and ran out of the room before Germany could bash his skull in.

"PRUSSIA!"