A/N: I would just like to make it clear before going into this that in spite of England referring to him as a boy all the time, America is physically about 16 years old. While on that topic, warning for Ephebophilia in this chapter.
August
England didn't suspect that there was anything wrong with America for a long time. It had been clear for almost a month that he was attracted to England, but that was normal enough. After all, England could remember his own adolescence perfectly clearly, all the confused nights when he lay back with his tunic lifted, thinking about a hundred different people and unsure of how he felt about any of them. It was part of growing up and America would get past it. Hopefully not past England, but past the confusion.
No, the real person England worried about was himself. It was one thing to look at America and notice how attractive he'd grow to be. It was another thing entirely to actually want him as he was. It was wrong, disgusting even. England didn't know why he felt that way. He'd never had a problem with this sort of thing before. He hadn't been attracted to boys since he was one himself, since over three hundred years ago when he and Portugal had…
Well, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that he was attracted to a child!
He wasn't exactly a child, though, his treacherous thoughts reminded him. True, he was only about one hundred, but England guessed from his appearance that people his physical age married on a regular basis. Hell, from one point of view he had been younger when he first-
"Um… Hey England…"
Bloody hell, where had he come from? He forced himself to smile up at America. He looked worried, hands behind his back and looking down at his shoes. England set aside his embroidery to show that America had his attention.
"Yes, dear boy?"
"I- can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course, lad," He patted the cushion next to him.
"Thanks," America said, taking a seat.
"Now, what seems to be bothering you?"
"England… I'm scared."
England sighed, "America, I've told you a million times, there are no such things as ghosts."
"It's not about that!" He said a little too harshly, "This is serious!"
"Sorry, lad," England said, smiling, "I'll hear you out."
"I know I shouldn't have yelled," He shifted uncomfortably, "I just… I'm worried."
England furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but it certainly sounded serious…
"I've been feeling… weird lately and I don't know what to do about it. I know it's not just puberty or anything, because I haven't changed in the past seven years."
It was most likely something normal that he simply hadn't encountered yet, but it didn't hurt to make sure "So, what do you mean by 'weird' exactly?"
"Well, it's… Um…" He turned bright red, "This is really, really awkward, but… um."
"It's alright, love," England reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, "Whatever it is you can tell me."
America turned even redder, "I want sex. Like really, really want it. And it's just been getting worse and worse. I can barely think of anything else anymore," His voice cracked and he began speaking more quickly, "I can't concentrate, can barely do chores. Even my dreams are all me getting fucked or something that I know means the same thing. And they're so vivid, England, I would have pretty intense dreams before, but nothing like this. And the worst is when I don't dream of sex because then..." He looked away, "Then I dream about being pregnant, or giving birth, or holding a baby. And the feelings just gets worse and worse when I'm around you, so doing this is awful. I want it to stop, England," He looked back at England, tears were rolling down his face, "I don't feel like me. I want to go back to the way I was before. Please England, you told me you'd always help me, so please fix this."
A Year of Surprises [3a/12]
A/N: I would just like to make it clear before going into this that in spite of England referring to him as a boy all the time, America is physically about 16 years old. While on that topic, warning for Ephebophilia in this chapter.
August
England didn't suspect that there was anything wrong with America for a long time. It had been clear for almost a month that he was attracted to England, but that was normal enough. After all, England could remember his own adolescence perfectly clearly, all the confused nights when he lay back with his tunic lifted, thinking about a hundred different people and unsure of how he felt about any of them. It was part of growing up and America would get past it. Hopefully not past England, but past the confusion.
No, the real person England worried about was himself. It was one thing to look at America and notice how attractive he'd grow to be. It was another thing entirely to actually want him as he was. It was wrong, disgusting even. England didn't know why he felt that way. He'd never had a problem with this sort of thing before. He hadn't been attracted to boys since he was one himself, since over three hundred years ago when he and Portugal had…
Well, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that he was attracted to a child!
He wasn't exactly a child, though, his treacherous thoughts reminded him. True, he was only about one hundred, but England guessed from his appearance that people his physical age married on a regular basis. Hell, from one point of view he had been younger when he first-
"Um… Hey England…"
Bloody hell, where had he come from? He forced himself to smile up at America. He looked worried, hands behind his back and looking down at his shoes. England set aside his embroidery to show that America had his attention.
"Yes, dear boy?"
"I- can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Of course, lad," He patted the cushion next to him.
"Thanks," America said, taking a seat.
"Now, what seems to be bothering you?"
"England… I'm scared."
England sighed, "America, I've told you a million times, there are no such things as ghosts."
"It's not about that!" He said a little too harshly, "This is serious!"
"Sorry, lad," England said, smiling, "I'll hear you out."
"I know I shouldn't have yelled," He shifted uncomfortably, "I just… I'm worried."
England furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but it certainly sounded serious…
"I've been feeling… weird lately and I don't know what to do about it. I know it's not just puberty or anything, because I haven't changed in the past seven years."
It was most likely something normal that he simply hadn't encountered yet, but it didn't hurt to make sure "So, what do you mean by 'weird' exactly?"
"Well, it's… Um…" He turned bright red, "This is really, really awkward, but… um."
"It's alright, love," England reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, "Whatever it is you can tell me."
America turned even redder, "I want sex. Like really, really want it. And it's just been getting worse and worse. I can barely think of anything else anymore," His voice cracked and he began speaking more quickly, "I can't concentrate, can barely do chores. Even my dreams are all me getting fucked or something that I know means the same thing. And they're so vivid, England, I would have pretty intense dreams before, but nothing like this. And the worst is when I don't dream of sex because then..." He looked away, "Then I dream about being pregnant, or giving birth, or holding a baby. And the feelings just gets worse and worse when I'm around you, so doing this is awful. I want it to stop, England," He looked back at England, tears were rolling down his face, "I don't feel like me. I want to go back to the way I was before. Please England, you told me you'd always help me, so please fix this."