Old, withered books were scattered about England's desk as he sifted through his shelf of spells. He had yet to find anything pertaining to America's predicament and was becoming weary. What if there was no cure and his former colony was stuck like this for the rest of his life? He would be having to fight off perverted nations right and left for him, and that was not something he wanted to do every G7 or World Meeting. Yet, he was nowhere near close to giving up. He just needed more time.
As England started on the lower shelf of the bookcase, he noticed one of the books were ajar, sticking out slightly. England raised a curious eyebrow. He hadn't touched his sorcery room in years. He took this as a sign to pluck it out and read through it. It didn't look like there was anything of interest until he flipped to the second-to-last page. Written in Latin, there was a small description on the page that described a palace guard who was cursed by a witch because she was not allowed to collect money for selling items in the marketplace, just for simply being a woman. Her spell was supposed to fully turn him into a woman, but backfired and only changed his genitals. Underneath the story was the actual spell that the witch had used on the guard, but there was one problem. There was no cure or reverse spell listed.
"How peculiar," England thought. This was a bit of a pickle. All that searching just to arrive at a dead end. He let out a frustrated sigh. At the very least, he had the actual spell used to curse America. However, there was only one question remaining: Who did this to him?
The Englishman shook his head. If he didn't have anything on his end, maybe there existed other interpretations of the spell. He had to make a few calls.
Before starting on that, he looked back to his den and scowled. He had made quite the mess searching through his collection. Certainly, he'd have to clean up a bit first.
Shit. Shit. Shit! Canada was going to kill him. Prussia had messed up. He couldn't get to his friend in time and now France was going to get his froggy hands all over him. Still in the buffet parking lot, he stared at his phone and dreaded what he was about to do. He dialed Canada's number and let out a bated breath.
"Hello, Gilbert," He heard the man on the other end say. "How did everything go?"
Prussia gulped nervously before responding. "About that, I've got bad news and good news."
There was a brief pause on the other line before Canada responded. "Okay. What's the good news?"
"There was heavy traffic after I left, but I just now got here."
"And the bad news?"
"I- er, got to them too late, and they're not heading back to the meeting…" Prussia hoped the Canadian would understand. He heard a frustrated sigh through the speaker.
Canada pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold in his anger. It wasn't Prussia's fault for not getting to his brother in time. "Do you have any idea where they are going to now?"
"Knowing France, my best guess is a hotel room."
"Shit. I'll check Alfred's room in a bit if they went there. If not, I'll go to France's hotel." Thankfully the Frenchman had told him where he was staying when they first arrived at the airport.
"Do you want me to go to France's place instead?" Prussia thoughtfully asked.
"No, it's fine. If anything, you can go to the last-half of the meeting and cover for all of us. I know your brother is going to be pissed when it turns out that we're not there."
Prussia winced at that. He knew that West was going to be at his throat and most likely blame him for this incident based on his slip-up from when America didn't go back to yesterday's meeting. "I'll try my best." He hesitatingly assured his friend.
Canada seemed to relax a bit at Prussia's words. "Good. I'll keep in touch if anything happens. Thanks, Gilbert."
"No problem." After that, they both hung up and started on their individual missions. This day just kept getting worse for the poor albino.
It had only been a ten minute walk to France's apartment, but Alfred felt restless. He still couldn't believe that he's going to let France teach him how to let loose and pleasure himself. However, his sexual frustration was overriding his humiliation. He felt his heart beating faster as they ascended inside the elevator, then outright pounding as they approached the door.
France swept his card through the reader and unlocked the door. He was so giddy right now. He'd finally see the world's superpower on his bed, writhing in pleasure at his very touch. He had dreamed of this ever since the young nation had defied and broke free from England. France always thought that bedding the American would be a double "screw you" to his longtime rival as well as a new conquest for himself. That is how France had seen having any sexual encounter with America up until now. But, the American grew on him, and he became quite fond of him. His hilarious hijinks during meetings made otherwise drab topics interesting. Because of that, France was not doing this for the other man not only just for personal gain. He genuinely wanted to help his ally.
That is why he paused when he faced Alfred, who looked obviously uncomfortable. "Is something the matter, mon cher?"
Alfred looked up from staring at the floor. "Um well-." France didn't let him continue.
"We don't have to do this if you do not want to, Alfred." He gave the boy a sympathetic look, this time letting the other give him a full response.
Alfred considered the Frenchman's words. He could back out, go back to the meeting and pretend like this never happened. Then, he'd feel like shit for not manning up and backing down or something, and he'd still be stuck in a state of sexual frustration.
On the other hand, if he did go through with this, he'd have to willingly let another nation take control. It was something Alfred was not used to. He was always the one designated to lead, even when it came to his role in the bedroom. Even if he "bottomed," he was still always at the top, controlling the speed, rhythm and everything else included. He honestly didn't know if he could take another dominating him. With Prussia, it was different because he was forced to switch roles, so it felt like he had an excuse. This time, he himself would be giving his power into the hands of another. This new body of his is a complete gamechanger, and Alfred is just too prideful for his own good.
It was a few minutes until Alfred finally made up his mind. "I-, I want to do this." He nodded his head to reassure himself. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let someone else be in the lead for once and do the work for him, and to not have so many expectations on his shoulders.
France gave him another look over once more before deciding to usher him inside. Alfred walked over to the bed and leaned back on his elbows, waiting for the other to join him. Taking the invitation, France sauntered over to him and straddled his lap. He then captured the American's lips into a passionate kiss. Alfred let the other guide his tongue into his mouth, tasting the leftover food France had taken home. Not that he minded, it actually tasted pretty good.
While their lips locked, France took the liberty to start to unbutton Alfred's dress shirt. When they both pulled back for air, Alfred shrugged out of his unbuttoned top while France pulled his own over his head. He then wasted no time to suckle on the soft flesh of Alfred's neck, the latter of the two moaning as France's tongue tickled a sensitive spot.
This was definitely the most intimate encounter he's had with another in quite a while, so Alfred was practically basking in the attention the other was giving him. He arched into every touch, a silent plea for more, pride be damned. France gladly obliged by kissing and licking his way down Alfred's chest, moving lower to caress the American's toned stomach, lapping at his navel. Alfred shivered at the sensation.
The Frenchman then hovered his hand over the waistband of Alfred's slacks, waiting for permission. The other nodded his head, wanting more. At that, Alfred's pants were off in one swift, gentle motion. France was very experienced when it came to undressing, you see. He smirked when he saw the glistening moisture coating the folds of Alfred's sex.
Alfred's cheeks burned seeing the other peering at him, feeling the need to close his legs. However, France reached a hand to rest on the other's knee to stop him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, mon cher. You look absolutely wonderful." To reassure America, he quickly set to work. He swept his thumb over the other's clit, rubbing it in a clockwise motion while peppering his inner thighs with kisses. The effect had Alfred spreading his legs to his ministrations, coaxing soft moans from the superpower. Feeling more encouraged, France moved two fingers to rub in between the folds of Alfred's pussy, making sure to smooth over every groove and wrinkle that lied there.
Oh god, did that feel good. If France kept this up, Alfred would cum too soon. Everything was just so sensitive. It was vastly different than having the skin of his dick stroked. It felt like there was more to touch, as if what could be touched was limitless. He could be teased in more ways than he ever could when he still had his male sex. It was so surreal, and he wanted to find out what else his new body could do and how it could react. He was too horny to care about being emasculated anymore, and he hadn't even had anything inside him yet.
And when he really was about to cum, France pulled back from Alfred. The immediate response from the superpower was a whine at the loss and his cheeks heated up when he realized that he had let that out. However, hearing something so wonton from the normally sexually reserved nation made France as hard as diamonds. He swiftly pulled off his trousers and undergarments, then kneeled forward and prompted America further up on the piece of furniture. Now resting his head against the pillows, Alfred pulled down France's head to recapture his lips with his own.
The French nation went back to work on his quest of pleasuring the other. This time, he reached over to the end table and pulled a tube of lubricant out from the drawer. Sure, America was slick with arousal, but he was not used to penetration yet. He uncapped the lube and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers. He then rested a wet finger at Alfred's entrance, asking again if he could pursue. The man below him responded by opening his legs further out and wiggling his hips. France found the sight delectable. Satisfied with Alfred's display of approval, the Frenchman eased the tip of his pointer finger inside. Not too surprised that there was very little resistance with how much he managed to relax Alfred, he pushed in further until his knuckles rested against the other's perineum.
It really didn't feel too different from when Prussia had inserted a finger inside him, but this time he was properly prepared for it. He could contemplate on how it felt. He loved the stretch of his hymen around France's finger and how he could feel the digit wiggle inside him. He soon found himself rolling his hips back onto the finger, wanting France to move it, and he did. It soon pumped in and out of him, properly fucking him. "Fah- fuck!" Alfred's hips met France on every thrust forward, wanting more friction.
A second finger soon joined the first, and this time there was a bit of a burn with the stretch. Alfred found it similar to the burn of anal sex, but unlike an anus, this hole was meant to stretch and accommodate in such a manor. His inner walls accepted the drag of the fingers, the skin pulling with each motion out, making the nerves there tingle. And when Alfred thought it couldn't feel any better, France had crooked his fingers upwards, hitting a spot inside him that made him see white-hot stars and cry out in ecstasy.
The Frenchman smirked at finding America's g-spot, and relentlessly hit it with each thrust. Alfred was a mewling mess at this point, his body overwhelmed by everything he was experiencing. He felt like was going to explode as his orgasm once again built up.
The sight of Alfred writhing upon the duvet was too much. The hand that he wasn't using to fuck the other man grabbed his own hard cock, stroking in time with his thrusting fingers. He was close as he witnessed Alfred throw his head backward and felt his body constrict around his digits.
The American practically yelled out his moan of release as he came. His body lowered and relaxed against the bed as he felt his insides still tighten around France. The other man let Alfred ride out his orgasm as he continued to get himself off. Watching the fluid run down his fingers from Alfred's entrance finally brought himself over the edge. He came over his own hand and the covers bellow him, with a tiny bit splashing against America's thigh.
As they both came down from their sexual highs, France withdrew his fingers and used a nearby handkerchief to wipe himself down as well as Alfred's thigh. He plopped back down on the bed next to Alfred, who was still regaining his breath a bit. "That- that was awesome," He said in-between pants. "I am curious though." He turned to face France.
The other gave him a inquiring stare in return. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Uh, why didn't you fuck me?" He knew he was being blunt, but he had generally expected the Frenchman to take advantage of the situation and "make love to him." Or, to be just another conquest for him.
France raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Silly, Alfred. I said that this was about teaching you to love your new body, didn't I?" He sidled closer to the American. "Although, if you want me to, I would be more than happy to fulfill your request."
America snorted and hoisted himself up. "Pervert." He looked between his legs and noticed the moisture starting to dry up. Scrunching his face in disgust, he wondered if he had enough time to take a shower. "Hey, what time is it?"
France rolled over to his side of the bed, retrieving his phone from his discarded pants. "Almost two o' clock. We've been gone for over an hour," he answered. "Were you planning on going back to the meeting?"
He really wasn't, but he knew that it would look pretty bad with both him and France gone. Plus, he knew he'd get an earful from both Germany and Canada for skipping out and doing God knows what. "Do you think we should go back?"
Before the other nation could answer, there was soft knock at the door. Curious, he got up from the bed and peered through the peephole. Through the fisheye glass, France could see curly blond hair similar to his own with a lone curl sticking out from the figure's forehead. Only one person looked like that. "Your brother is here." He whispered from the front of the room.
Shit. Had Mattie already found him out? He quickly scrambled to the bathroom and before he closed it, he whisper-yelled, "don't tell him I'm here!"
France shook his head. He thought about not opening the door and pretending he wasn't there, but thought better of it considering Canada had most likely heard his voice. The bedsheets were in disarray and France was still naked. He ran over to his discarded clothing and pulled his slacks up. The shirt could stay on the floor for now. There was nothing he could do about the sheets, but he managed to kick Alfred's clothes under the bed. He'd apologize later to the American if he got his garments wrinkled.
Another knock came from the other side of the door, this time with more urgency. "Coming!" He looked back to room once more before opening the door. It looked fairly obvious that he had some form of intercourse in here. He could only wish that he can come up with a good excuse for it.
When he did open the door, he was faced with an angry Canadian. "Oh, Matthew! What brings you here?" He did his best to act surprised, but the other was having none of it.
"Where is my brother, Francis?"
The other widened his eyes in mock-confusion. "Excuse me? Why would I know where America is off to?"
Still outside of the door, Canada crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Don't play dumb. Gilbert told me he saw you and Alfred walk out of a restaurant together, and neither you and my brother are at the meeting," He craned his neck a bit around France's head to get a better look at the state of inside the room. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened."
Damn. Canada was good. Losing some of his earlier collectiveness, France did his best to deter him. "W-well, he's not here now, nor do I know where he is!"
Matthew was not convinced. "I heard voices not even a minute ago."
"That was just me, talking to myself! You of all nations know how I love to monologue, no?" He was practically sweating at this point. The jig was soon to be up.
Suddenly, Canada leaned down towards the other's face, close enough for the tips of their noses to almost touch. "I don't like being lied to, Francis. I would fess up, if I were you. After all, Russia isn't the only to carry around a blunt object." Of course, he brought his trusty hockey stick, which had been propped up on the wall out of France's view. When it came to keeping his brother out of trouble, it never hurt to have some backup.
France visibly paled at the threat and quickly scrambled out of the man's way to let him inside. "How brutish! He's in the bathroom! But just know that I didn't do any harm to him! He came to me for help!"
Canada chose to ignore him and swiftly went pass him towards the bathroom door. "Hey, Al. It's me. Open the door, please? I'm not mad at you." Well, that was a bit of a lie. Canada was a little mad, mainly with the fact that his brother didn't tell him where he was going. A simple text message would have been nice.
Double shit. How the hell was he going to face his brother, in the nude inside of another man's bathroom after confiding with the other that this was once one of the last things that he wanted to do. Alfred was so mortified that he felt like he wanted to die. "Dude, I can take care of myself! Why the hell did you follow me here!"
The words sounded muffled from the other side, but they came in clear. Canada was floored. "I'm here because of how you were whining earlier about all the others praying on you like a piece of meat! You were the one worried that you were going to be taken advantage of, and here I am, making sure you don't!"
Meanwhile, France coughed awkwardly from a few feet away. Did his former colony really think that low of him?
Canada continued his speech, "So, don't so suddenly turn me away! All I wanted was to help you. Just, open this door so we can go back to the meeting, okay?" That felt better. He hadn't given the American a proper rant in a good while.
It was quite for a few long moments until a whispered, "I'm sorry," from the bathroom, broke the silence. Canada sighed. "It's okay, alright? Just come out, please?"
"I can't."
Matthew felt some frustration bubble up again. "What do you mean you can't?"
There was a bit of creak when the bathroom door opened slightly, Alfred's head and bare shoulders visible while he kept the rest of his body hidden behind the door. "I'm completely naked," He said with a furious blush adorning his cheeks.
The Canadian matched his brother's burning face as he faced the third person in the room. "Where are his clothes?!" He demanded of the Frenchman. Said Frenchman shakily pointed to underneath the bed. Beyond the point of even questioning why they were under there, he quickly pulled them out and thrusted the garments in their owner's outstretched hand. America did his best to put his rumbled clothing from the bathroom and fully opened the door once he was done.
"Do I look decent?" He stepped out from the bathroom. His clothes were a bit wrinkled, his tie sloppily put together, and was missing one sock.
If Canada didn't lie, the meeting would be over by the time they got over there. "Uhh, you look fine. Now, let's go before traffic picks up, please?"
Nodding quickly, America followed his brother out the hotel door, passing a sulking Francis, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He'd apologize for any damage that his brother's overbearing protectiveness caused for him later.
While the two North American's shuffled out, Alfred noticed a certain piece of sports equipment that the Canadian stopped to pick up before they headed to the elevator. Had Mattie really planned to pulverize France with his hockey stick? Jesus.
Woot! Finally, another chapter done! I'm a bit lazy to censor this chapter, so I'll take a gamble and leave the full version here anyway. Also, I think I got a bit carried away with this one. So long! But I had a lot of fun, especially with writing an overprotective Canada. I think he'd carry around "backup" for whenever America gets them into trouble.
Anyway, there will be more countries still trying to get into Alfred's pants, including Russia. I didn't realize how lengthy this fic was going be at first, and I initially wanted him to "rock America's world" earlier in the story. Oh, well. But it will be coming soon enough for those of you who are anticipating it!