WARNING: MATURE CONTENT THAT WILL PROBABLY DISTURB MOST READERS! KINKS: INFANTILISM, UROLAGNIA! LOOK THEM UP ON WIKI BEFORE YOU READ, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO GET REPORTED BECAUSE YOU READ SOMETHING YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE READ IN THE FIRST PLACE.
The other nations filed out of the meeting room, leaving America and England behind. While the others had still been present, America had behaved as he usually did in public—laughing brightly, joking, teasing everyone, and generally being obnoxious.
Now that the room was empty though, his happy expression faded.
"Daddy," America whined, his bottom lip protruding. England glanced up from his notes, a small smirk of knowing already gracing his features.
"Yes, love?" he asked.
"I'm wet. I've been wet all meeting!" America pouted. England rather uncaringly put away his papers after that, though he made sure he still had his briefcase with him. It primarily functioned as a diaper bag, though the other nations didn't know it.
"Alright, let's get to a restroom then. Meri, you know if you'd just give the potty a try, you wouldn't have to be so uncomfortable on long business days like this," England said reproachfully. America, stubborn as always, merely pouted harder. He crossed his arms over his chest petulantly, and despite his tall frame and his expensive suit, he still looked babyish to England. England walked over to where America had been sitting and began to collect his boy's things. America tugged on his coat insistently the whole time, still whining. Some of it made sense—pleas for food and potty—and some of it was just baby talk.
"Meri, be patient. Let Daddy make sure we have all our things, please," England said with a practiced, patient voice. America stopped whining as much, but chose instead to begin sucking on his thumb, a stubborn glint in his blue eyes. England gave him a stern glance. "America…"
"Wha?" America replied, still sucking away rather loudly on his thumb.
"You know that's bad for your teeth, love," England said.
"But you took away my binkie!" America pouted, taking his thumb out of his mouth just long enough to speak. Yes, at America's advanced age, England had only just now convinced America to give up sucking on pacifiers. Of course, England couldn't spend all his time with his son, and America (deceptively smart America) was perfectly capable of putting on his "adult" persona and going to buy his own pacifiers when England was out of town. The same could be said for candy, ice cream, and toys.
If the other nations only knew what America's bedroom looked like…not the fake, drab one he pretended belonged to him, but his secret room behind the bookshelf in the library. Some of the items inside, like the oversized baby furniture, had been gifts from England. The large toys and playthings, however, were all America's doing.
"Daaaddddyyyyy," America whined insistently. "I'm gonna leak through! My pee pee hurts!"
"Oh, alright, come on then. I've gotten everything now," England said as he took both of their brief cases and headed out into the hallway. Reluctantly, America released his spit covered thumb, on the off chance some of the other nations were still lingering in the hallway. They weren't. The two of them slipped into the empty men's room, and England locked the door. America was already doing a little 'I-have-to-pee-so-bad' dance, and before England could curse, a big wet spot began to blossom on the crotch of America's pants.
"Daddy! I told you!" America was already crying, big fat tears pooling in his blue eyes and slipping sloppily down his chubby cheeks.
"Oh, Meri, honestly! You should have just let me know during the meeting you needed me to take you to the potty!"
"No!" America pouted, still crying as his long legs trembled.
"You still need to go, Meri. Daddy can see that you do. Why don't you sit on the potty just for a bit?" England tried to persuade. America just stubbornly shook his head, and he was crying so hard that tears flew off his cheeks.
"Oh, Christ, fine!" England said as he hurriedly pulled the plastic sheeting from his large brief case and unfolded it on the bathroom floor. America lied down quickly, already tugging at the wet pants.
"Button!" America grunted bossily. Of course, America knew how to undo his pants, and did it regularly when England was out of town, but as soon as England was home, America almost perfectly reverted to the behavior of a two-year-old. Not even grimacing, because they had done this many times before, England unbuttoned the pee soaked pants and pulled them off. America's thighs were still trembling, letting England know he was still holding the contents of his bladder, waiting for a fresh diaper. Sure enough, the one he was currently wearing was sodden and completely soaked through.
"No more cokes during meetings, Meri. I mean it," England said sternly. America just pouted, and wiped at the tears messing up his face with balled up fists. England should have known better and predicted what America was scheming. Just like a two-year-old, America could be a right little wanker when he was upset with England.
As soon as England undid the fastenings on the diaper, and turned back to his briefcase to fetch the wipes, America pushed away the full diaper and released his bladder, managing to catch the fringe of Arthur's bangs with the stream of urine before the older nation dodged backwards. America giggled mischievously, still wiping at his tears.
"America!" England scolded loudly, his voice echoing off the bathroom walls. The hot urine had splashed all over the big child-nation, soiling his entire suit now and filling the room with an unpleasant smell. Crinkling his nose up, England stood and went to the sink, leaving America to begin playing with his soft tummy with one hand, sucking his dirty thumb with the other. America smiled at him devilishly from behind the thumb, letting England know he'd done that on purpose. While England always carried spare clothes for America, he never carried spares for himself. Likely, America was trying to embarrass him with a pee stain on his shirt.
England splashed some water on his hair and rolled up his sleeves. When he turned around, his scary expression made America start whining and squirming.
"Daddy was mean! I told Daddy I needed to pee pee but he didn't listen!"
"That was naughty, America. Very naughty!" England proved his point by grabbing America under a pee-soaked knee and half-way rolling him over, where he swatted the nation on his round buttock. Of course, it wasn't very hard at all, but America began to wail and try and thrash out of his hold.
If he truly wished to escape, he could have, considering his abnormal strength, but America didn't. Deep down, he wanted his Daddy to be stronger than him. He wanted to feel like his strong Daddy could protect him from everyone and everything. So America squirmed, and wiggled and cried, but he didn't truly fight England as the annoyed nation began showering him with baby wipes and stripping him of his soiled clothes.
"You hush all that crying," England said sternly. America still continued to belly-ache and so England half-rolled him and popped him again. "I said hush!"
Reduced to sniffling, America jammed his thumb in his mouth and turned his head away, refusing to look at England with his big, watery blue eyes.
England quickly scrubbed his boy down, taking particular care to clean around America's soft cock. It began to twitch in England's hands, but he continued swathing it down with the cool wipe, rubbing the wipe in the tip and all around the shaft.
"No, Daddy. Meri was bad. I was a bad boy an' I shouldn't get to feel good," America said, finally turning his face back to England with a guilty, shame-faced expression.
"That's all I wanted to hear, love. I know you feel badly about what you did, but I'm not angry. I know you're just cranky. It's past your nap time, and you haven't had a snack yet, either," England said charitably. He moved the wipe downwards, over America's ball sack. America rubbed at his sleepy eyes, but released a needy little grunt.
"Daddy…I'm dirty down there. Clean me, please. I can't wipe good by myself!" America said, as he spread his long, tanned legs wider. Smiling, England trailed the wipe below America's sack and saw a perfectly clean little hole.
"It looks like you did a fine job, love. I don't think you need Daddy as much as you think you do," England said, and despite not wanting it to, a little sadness crept into his tone. England's head dropped and his wet fringe covered his eyes as he rather sadly wiped America's tight little hole. Suddenly, America was struggling to his knees and then pitching himself forward, to straddle England's lap. The bigger nation buried his face into England's neck and squeezed him in a tight hug.
"No, Daddy. Meri will always need his Daddy. Nobody can take care of me like my Daddy can!" America insisted. England felt his strange melancholy leave him. No, America was right. America was incredibly special and had needs that the rest of the world would never understand. England was the only one who could take care of him in the way America needed to be loved.
"Oh, poppet, Daddy knows. Daddy was just being silly. Sometimes Daddy worries about his Meri growing up and not needing Daddy anymore. Silly, Daddy, hmm?" England said, leaning back so he could see America's expression. His little boy's eyes lit with understanding and love. Innocently, America pressed a kiss to his lips. When they parted, America pressed his forehead gently against England's.
"I'll always need my Daddy. Always," America insisted sweetly. England smiled softly and contemplated lying America down and finishing what he started, but he realized just how long they'd been in the bathroom, and America really was overdue for a snack and a nap. Sure, he was being sweet now, but once his tummy started rumbling the nation would be inconsolable.
"Alright, come on Meri. We've been in here too long and you need clothes on and a fresh nappy."
Obligingly, America kissed England's cheek one more time before lying back down on the plastic sheet. England pulled out a clean nappy, a pair of basketball shorts, and a soft, cotton T-shirt. America obligingly lifted his hips as England slid the adult-sized diaper under his bottom, and secured it on. Next, England slid on the shorts and then helped America to stand.
"Here, love, help me with your shirt. You can do this all on your own, can't you? Like a big boy?" England asked, offering the shirt to America. He should have known better than to push America's sweet mood. Instantly, his brat pouted again and crossed his arms over his bare chest.
"No! Not a big boy!" America said.
"Oh, alright alright, I know. You're my little baby still. Give me your arms, then," England coddled. America allowed England to guide him into the T-shirt and then pull it down over his head. Instantly, the thumb popped back into America's mouth. "Let me just clean this up and we'll get going. You were such a good boy today in the meeting. I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a kid's meal on the way home, love?"
"YES!" America enthused happily. Already growing bored of waiting, America occupied himself by pressing the hand dryer and letting the strong current of air blow his hair about wildly. Rolling his eyes, England fetched a spare garbage bag from the bottom of the restroom's bin, and filled it with the soiled clothing. He threw away the plastic sheet and found the sneakers America had been wearing with his expensive suit. England called America over and slipped them onto the nation's bare feet.
"Now, watch me, Meri," England said, glancing up at America to make sure he had his attention. "First you make…what?"
"Two bunnies," America said from behind his thumb. England nodded and waited. America contemplated for a moment and then guided him further. "Then the bunnies hug! Like Daddy and Meri!"
"Yes, just like that," England said, twisting the two loops of lace together.
"And then, Meri-Bunny crawls under Daddy-Bunny!"
"Mm-hmm," England said, looping one bunny ear under the other.
"And then Daddy-Bunny hugs Meri-Bunny real, real tight," America finished, as England pulled the laces taut.
"Perfect, love. Now you try," England prodded. America stuck his bottom lip out and then went back to his thumb sucking after a stubborn, "No!"
Patiently, England knotted the other shoe and stood, knowing better than to get into a battle with his son at such a time.
"Wash your hands, Meri," England said. Thankfully, America obeyed that command and quickly washed up his hands. He bounded out of the restroom, leaving England to scramble for their briefcases.
"America! Wait up!" England called, as he opened the bathroom door and saw that there was no need to shout, as America had stopped his skipping instantly. A few of the nations had returned to the hallway, and were chatting further down it. Unfortunately, the Frog was among them. France's face broke into a delighted grin when he saw them emerge from the restroom together, with America now sporting a new outfit.
"Oh hon hon hon, look what we have here!" France said lewdly. His companion, Spain, glanced over and smiled.
"Couldn't wait till you got back to the house, eh amigos?" Spain said with a lecherous wag of his eyebrows. England flushed dark red and clenched the bags in his hands. America just laughed.
"I wouldn't use that restroom for awhile, guys. England totally stank it up!" America announced loudly. England's embarrassment heightened and his glare shifted from France to America.
"I did no such thing! You were the one who—" but England cut himself off. He would never hurt America by spilling his secret. No matter how much America teased him or made him the butt of his immature jokes, England would protect their secret with his very life.
And America knew that, and trusted that. He turned that mischievous smile on England, but pretended he was innocent.
"I did what?" America taunted. France and Spain snickered.
"Oui, England, tell us what America did to you in the restroom? We're ever so curious!" France goaded.
"Oh shut it! He wants to go exercise because he thinks he's a fat arse—because he is—and after he stank up the restroom, he left me to get all his crap! Take your bloody suit and carry your own briefcase! This is why people buy gym bags, America!" England said, in what he hoped was a smooth explanation. It usually fell on him to think of such things. America had no problem letting the others think any weirdness from the two of them was due to naughty sex in public places.
Of course, sometimes that was entirely the truth.
After sharing a laugh at England's flustered face, Spain and France returned to their conversation and America led them out of the conference building, and to the car. Immediately, the joking, adult-version of America vanished like it had never existed.
Meri was back, and he was in a foul mood. It always annoyed America to have to snap out of his fantasy world and take on the persona of Alfred Jones—world superpower and hero.
"Daddy!" America practically screamed, once the car doors were shut.
"Now, love, I had no way of knowing those two idiots would come back. I'm sorry. I know it stresses you—"
"No no no no no!" America screamed. That was his favorite word, and had been for many years, while he was in the mind-set of Meri rather than America. England just rolled his eyes, even though America was kicking the car on the passenger side hard enough to leave dents in the plastic. England risked a fist to the face and leaned over the other nation to buckle him into the seat properly.
"I only take calm little boys to McDonalds. I know it made you mad that you had to pretend to be all grown up, but it's over now and you can stay as my Meri all night now. If you keep throwing this tantrum, though, we're going straight home and Daddy will cook dinner."
That did it. Worked like a charm every time, for some reason completely unknown to England. America sniffled back his tears and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't suck his thumb in the car so near the meeting place, for fear someone might glimpse at America's flashy sports car and see what he was doing.
"I want McDonalds! Now!" America demanded petulantly.
"I don't much like that tone, young man," England replied back. He loved America, honestly he did, but America was so natural in his alter-ego state that it was easy for England to forget that America really was a fully grown man and not a two-year-old.
"I'm sowwy," America said, slumping down in his seat dejectedly. England felt his heart melt a little. As an adult, America never apologized or admitted when he was wrong. As Meri, he was so much more eager to please—sweet and precious.
"I forgive you, love. I know you're tired," England said magnanimously.
"M'not tired," America protested, staring sullenly out the window.
"Alright, you're not tired then. Do you want a car toy?" England asked. They were safely on the road now, and the further away they got from the conference building, the calmer America became. America glanced up at him, not willing to talk. Ah, the old silent treatment. It was not a game America was especially good at, but sometimes odd bouts of shyness did come over the lad.
England rummaged around behind him for a few seconds until he found the plastic Tupperware full of army men. He handed them to America, who forgot all about his fussing and pouting and happily dove into the box of toys. He began to spread them out over his lap and in the cup holders, while England navigated them towards the McDonalds.
He pulled through the drive through and ordered three Big Mac meals, a kid's meal, and a salad for himself.
"I want the toy!" America said loudly, just as soon as they were passed the ordering box.
"Yes, yes, love, I know," England said. As they pulled up to the window, America didn't bother switching out of his child-like persona. The worker gave them a strange look as she passed the food out and America reached wildly for the kid's meal, army men forgotten.
"Gimme!" he shouted gleefully. England handed it over, and set about paying, all while the worker distractedly watched Alfred rip into the plastic bag.
"It's not polite to stare," England said pointedly. The woman recovered herself, probably reached the incorrect conclusion that America had special needs, and hurried the rest of their order with a mumbled apology.
"Woohoo! A pokemon!" Alfred crowed in delight. He immediately began to sing the theme song for the latest version of the show while Arthur tucked away the food and peeled out of the line. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief that Alfred was satisfied with the toy. Usually, the spoiled nation wasn't, and he almost always created some kind of scene. Getting out of McDonalds with only a weird look was a minor miracle.
But even if America's behavior was embarrassing at times, England wouldn't change him—not for anything. His childish behavior aside, America had massive amounts of responsibility on his shoulders. He bore the heavy workload and the ridiculous amount of stress with a carefree grin and a can-do attitude, but England knew that the stress took its toll on America.
As they drove back home, England remembered how it had all started, just a few years before…
England was seriously considering packing his bags and going to a hotel. While America had assured him it was no trouble for him to crash at his place, the young nation had been acting so strangely that England didn't know what to do or say. He knew America was under a great deal of stress, but even that didn't explain what England thought was down-right bizarre behavior.
That included what he'd just witnessed in America's bedroom. He'd been searching for the other nation all over the big house, without any luck, and finally thought maybe America had gone to lie down for a bit. He'd been having strange bouts of bad temper all afternoon, snapping at England and then pretending like nothing had happened.
England approached the bedroom door quietly, thinking America must surely be napping. God knows he needed the rest. England had seen America's workload personally in his office and wondered if America's boss thought his nation powers meant he never needed sleep. No mere mortal would have been able to get done what America was expected to accomplish in a single work day.
England peeked inside the bedroom and softly smiled. Yes, the lad had decided to lie down for a nap. England cocked his head to the side, looking at him a little more closely. Was America…was he…sucking his thumb?
Oh, that was just too funny! Sure, America had sucked his thumb as a child, but England never imagined the world's only superpower still did it in his sleep! Wanting to get a better view, England gently pushed the door open and crept inside. America was sound asleep, sucking softly on his thumb and…nude, it looked like. England fought the blush on his cheeks at the sight of America's bare chest and bit at his lip. He looked so innocent while he was sleeping—like an angel. England couldn't help but gently lower himself to the side of the mattress and brush America's blond fringe away from his eyes. America stayed asleep, but he curled towards England's thigh cutely, still sucking lazily on his thumb.
The shift in movement revealed that America was wearing something rather odd around his waist.
"Is that a…no. It can't be…Is it?' England thought incredulously. He shifted the blankets gently back and his green eyes widened in disbelief. America was wearing an adult diaper! England's thoughts raced. Maybe America was just having stomach trouble? Or maybe, and at this England had to snicker, maybe America still wet the bed sometimes?
Oh, America had better not ever make fun of England again—not when he had this kind of ammunition against him. England knew he should go, as he'd already gotten way more than what he hoped to see, but something about the sight of America clearly grown, but still so child-like, was captivating.
England was not a pedophile, mind you. He'd never had impure thoughts about America as a child, even though America had gone through a phase where he was obsessed with wanting to kiss and was always sneaking around trying to see England without his britches on. At the time, England had brushed it off as mere child-like curiosity. In time, America had grown out of it.
The sight of America now, fully grown, in a diaper of all things, should have been ridiculous—laughable! But somehow…it wasn't. For a strange moment, England wondered what it would be like for America to awaken, groggy with sleep, and call him Daddy again, as he had a few times all those years ago. How would it feel for the super power who had grown stronger than anyone else, the man who had so callously decided he had no need for England anymore…beg to be held and soothed back to sleep?
England realized with a start that America was unnaturally still and silent, as if he'd stopped breathing. Quite suddenly, America sat up, embarrassment burning in his eyes. It was the first time England really saw America—saw the stress, the heartache, the loneliness and the worry.
"Just leave. I know you probably want to make fun of me, but please…please…just go," America said heavily. He'd pulled the blankets up around his front self-consciously, hiding the diaper from England's view.
England had no idea what to say—"Why don't you call me Daddy?" just didn't seem appropriate. So England stood up and left.
Now he found himself in his bedroom, his brain freaking out, as he debated on whether or not to pack his things and leave the suddenly awkward situation far, far behind him.
There was a knock on his door. England's face turned red with panic—he still didn't know what to bloody say—but he went to the door anyway. He opened it, and there stood America, head hung low. He was wearing adult pajama pants now, but England could see the puffiness of the diaper under the fabric, now that he knew what to look for. America was still shirtless.
"Can I try to explain, at least?" America asked hollowly. England wordlessly stepped back, allowing his former charge to enter the room. After a moment's hesitation, America sat uneasily on the edge of England's bed. He braced his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.
"America…" England said a bit helplessly. What was he possibly supposed to say?
"I like pretending I'm a baby, okay?" America forced out, his face still hidden behind his hands. England balked, and at some point, after several seconds, he had to remember to shut his jaw.
"Huh?" England asked inarticulately.
"Look, I know it's weird, alright? I've tried to find out why I like it so much, but nobody really knows. There are others like me, though. Supposedly. I've never met them."
"Others that…wear diapers?" England asked confusedly. America glanced up at him sadly, and then sighed and looked away with bright red cheeks.
"No. Well, yes, but not just that." America clammed up then, as if unable to continue, so England blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.
"Is this some sort of sexual kink, America?" England asked. He instantly regretted it, as it made things even more awkward.
"No! I mean…not what you saw. Sometimes…I get really excited by trying something new…I don't know," America said helplessly. England's impressive brows knitted downwards.
"New…like what?" he asked, curious despite himself. America blushed hotly and mumbled his next answer. "I didn't quite catch that," England said.
"I…I got hard like a rock the first time I…drank from a bottle," America confessed.
"You…what?" England said dumbly.
"I told you it was more than just diapers. I like pretending to be a baby…or a toddler, really. I like all of it. I like sucking on pacifiers, and wearing diapers, and playing with toys, and…and…yeah. All of it."
"I've seen a lot of strange things in my day, lad, but this…this is up there, America. When did this…err…start?" England asked. America looked frustrated.
"I don't know! I just fantasized about it a lot…all the time. During meetings, when all that pressure is on me, or when I have huge deadlines, or stuff coming up that I'm afraid of doing…I just thought how nice it would be to still be little. So, one day, after a really terrible day at work…I stopped by the store and bought a package of diapers. I thought it would be weird, but it felt so good. I slept…well, like a baby. Then I started doing other stuff. Sucking my thumb. Sucking on pacifiers. Buying little kid toys. It all just helped me…I dunno…unwind. Forget everything. Sometimes…most of the time…it's too much."
"America…I'm not sure what to say," England said helplessly. America looked up at him, his blue eyes suddenly hard and angry.
"Why is it so weird? You and all the others, you need to escape, too sometimes! You just get piss drunk till you forget your own name! So I like to escape my way, and you escape yours. There's nothing wrong with me!"
England stood perfectly still, as America had stood and was glaring holes through him, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Forget it! I don't know why I thought you'd understand! Stupid me for still needing you. You left me as a kid—it shouldn't surprise me you want to leave now! Pack up your shit already and just GO. Tell everyone! Laugh about it when your down at the hotel bar with France and Germany and—"
"That's enough, America!" England shouted, startling America by his forceful tone. It was too much. America sat back down, weakly, his whole body shaking. Big, fat tears began to soak his cheeks. England crossed the room then and wrapped his arms around the shaking young man.
"D-don't…don't act like you…like you…still love me!" America sobbed against his mid-section. England pulled away, staring at America in disbelief. He sunk to his knees, so he could look America in the eyes.
"America…surely you know…I have always loved you. No matter what you do or say, I will still love you. I didn't leave you as a lad because I didn't want to be there. I left to protect you."
"I was so little. I was all alone. I just wanted a daddy, like all the other boys," America confessed. "I waited for you every day. I tried to stay little for you, but I just kept growing and growing, and you never came back. You didn't come back until I was too big and too strong, and then I had to be a grown up because I couldn't…I couldn't…"
"You couldn't what, love?" England asked gently. America dropped his gaze again.
"I couldn't ask you to take care of me…like I wanted you to. I wanted you as my daddy so much!"
In retrospect, it was incredibly bold of England to interpret America's request the way he had that night. It should have felt weird for England, but with America still trembling and crying, so vulnerable and needing him so badly—like England had never been needed before—at least not since he'd first found America…it just seemed natural to do what he did next.
"America…my little Meri…you've gotten yourself all covered in tears. Come now, I'll draw you a hot bath and clean you up. You'll feel better then."
America looked up at him in complete astonishment. Then the tears began to flow faster, as if a dam were breaking. He threw his arms around England's hips and cried and cried, all while England calmly petted his hair and whispered soothing nothings, as he'd done when America was still a babe.
Finally, America released him and stood, weakly, still clutching England's hand with both of his.
England guided the tall nation into the bathroom, and set him on the closed toilet. He began the bath water and rolled up his sleeves. America was looking completely out of it, emotionally fried. So England undid the drawstring on America's pajama pants and tugged him up. The pants fell, revealing the diaper beneath. America blushed and averted his eyes, but England caught his stare as he ran his fingertips down America's sides.
"This needs to come off before your bath, love," England said gently. America nodded, as meek as a little lamb, blue eyes still glistening with tears. It took England a moment, as diapers had been cloth when America was last in them, but he eventually found the sticky tape parts. Much to his surprise, the diaper actually felt quite heavy.
America had soiled it, just as a babe would have done. That realization caused a blush to flare on England's cheeks. Self-consciously, America sluggishly lifted his hands, as if to push England away and hide his shame. England recovered from the surprise and swatted gently at America's hands.
"None of that. This isn't the first time I've changed your soiled nappy, America. I don't know why you're so shy about it all the sudden," England said with forced confidence. Of course, they both knew damn well why America was shy and why England was moving so awkwardly. It was not the practiced, easy motions of an adult changing the diaper of a child. Both were very aware that America was about to let England see him naked, and that realization, mixed with the vulnerable state he was in…well, it was making America hard.
And England…England was feeling the hot, curling heat of arousal, too.
"America…would you like…Daddy…err…to bathe with you?" England asked, his fingers still on those little strips of tape. America blushed over his entire torso, but he nodded his head shyly.
"Yes…p-please, Daddy. It's always f-fun when we…when we bathe together," America said, stumbling over his words a bit.
"R-right," England replied. His confidence returning, England peeled the tape back and awkwardly removed the soiled diaper. Not knowing what else to do with it, he put it into the nearby trash bin, though it was really too small for such a bulky item.
England saw America's erection then, and there was nothing babyish about it, though it was rather smaller than England had always imagined it to be. England was considerably bigger than America, and by the excited glint in America's baby blues, that was a fact the taller nation hadn't forgotten. America must have been relaxing, because he slipped deeper into the role.
"Daddy…my…down there…it hurts, Daddy," America said. His high-pitched voice was well suited to the toddler-like voice he used. England blushed darkly, surprised that such a statement was turning him on as much as it was.
"L-let's get into the water, Meri. I'll…Daddy will take care of you," England promised. America smiled sweetly at him, and England felt his heart melt into a puddle of goo. Oh, he hadn't seen that smile in so very, very long.
Wondrously, he cradled America's chubby cheek in his hand and ran his thumb over that beautiful, boyish smile.
"Oh…Meri…it's been so long," England said softly. America's eyes closed in sheer relief and he flung his arms around England, hugging him tightly.
"Daddy, I missed you so much. I'm so glad you finally came," America said. England felt a little misty eyed too, at that point. He cleared his throat and gave America a gentle pat on the back.
"Alright, alright…I'm not going anywhere, Meri. Into the bath with you," England said. America obeyed him, letting him go reluctantly and stepping into the now full bathtub. England joined him and turned off the water. He sat on the edge, his erection still hard between his legs. England was determined to ignore it for as long as he could. He picked up a nearby rag and dipped it into the water with a shaking hand.
He didn't want this to be about sex. He wanted America to know that he cared…more than that, he loved him. He accepted him. He would take care of him however he needed.
England began to lovingly run the rag over America's shoulder blades, and then down his strong back and up his ticklish sides. America laughed—giggled really—and looked up at him, eyes shining with adoration.
"Daddy, that tickles!" he said. England found himself smiling softly.
"Does it?" England asked. Why did this odd fantasy feel so good? England found himself slipping back to that time, when he'd left America as a lad of no more than five years. When he'd returned, America had been a young man. All the firsts he'd missed, all the cuddling he hadn't done, all that tears he hadn't been there to sooth…and when America wanted his independence, a huge part of England couldn't blame him because he hadn't been there. Not enough. He'd had no other option but to fight for America's safety at the time, but that still didn't feel good enough. America had learned independence because England hadn't been around enough to teach him that he could rely on him.
But now…now America sat in the bathtub with his faith in England restored. Yes, the whole situation was strange. Something was definitely off about America, but it all made sense now. Why America kept everyone at arm's length…why America had never had a romantic partner…
He'd trusted England, though. He'd trusted England with knowledge that could ruin him, and England hadn't been trusted like that since America so innocently came to him as a child. Running the rag over America's nude, vulnerable body made England realize that America was giving him a second chance. Nobody else could do this for America—not with America's needs truly in their heart. Only England could love him like this, and America knew that.
England wouldn't break that trust for anything, and he wouldn't leave America alone with his burdens. Not again.
"D-daddy," America said, still stumbling over the strangely intimate name.
"Aren't you…going to get in with me?" America asked. England tried to force away his body's needs and decide if this was really what was best for America. Did America want this to be sexual, or did he just want this fantasy to be a reenactment of his younger years?
"America…I don't know. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is in this situation," England admitted hesitantly. America looked up at him knowingly—not with the bright eyed look of adoration he'd shown as a boy, but with the world-weary knowledge of a man.
"I know it's weird, England, but I…I have sexual needs, too. I've denied myself a really long time. You told me…you told me it was bad to touch myself, so I've never done it. I've never…with anyone before. For a long time now, I've wanted you. Yeah, mostly as my daddy… but as a lover, too. Is that too messed up?" America asked, his troubled blue eyes turning pensively to the bath water.
England's answer was to slide into the bath behind the young nation, and pull him back against his chest.
"Daddy?" America asked softly, hesitant…
"I know I told you it was bad for little boys to touch themselves, and you still shouldn't. However, it can also make you feel bad to stay like this. When you feel this way, you just need to tell Daddy and I'll make you feel better. Only I can touch you like this, okay, Meri?"
"Yes, Daddy," America instantly agreed. England took a steadying breath and dipped his hand into the water. He softly gripped America's hard cock and marveled at the realization that America had never even masturbated. England had never imagined his "talk" with the boy as a child would have been so impactful. As England began to skillfully pump him (trying to make up for all those years America had suffered blue balls) America nearly came undone. He began to whimper and keen, panting harshly and bucking his hips wildly against England's grip.
"D-daddy! Daddy!" America called out, genuinely shocked at what his body was feeling.
"Easy, Meri, easy," England soothed, but the boy was already cumming into England's hand with the pressure of a volcano erupting. England was amazed that America almost instantly hardened again. America gripped England's thigh, and his blue eyes turned to look questioningly at England.
"Is it going to ever stop, Daddy?" America asked, genuinely confused by the whole process.
"Y-yes, I suppose your body is just…very, very relieved," England settled on saying. His own erection was straining against America's backside, engorged by all the wiggling around America was doing.
"Daddy, I want to make you feel good, too," America said sweetly. "France is always talking about us fucking. Do you want to put your pee pee in my bottom like he says?" America asked shakily.
Oh, damn him to hell and back but yes. Yes he did.
"It will hurt, Meri. Daddy doesn't want to hurt you," England warned. America squirmed.
"How bad will it hurt?" America asked with a babyish pout.
"Err, let's see if you like it first. We'll try just a finger," England said. America turned back around, trusting him once more.
"Is it like my vegetables? I just have to try a little bit at first?" America asked naively. England gave a little shrug, though America couldn't see it.
"Err, yeah, I guess so. Alright, here we go, love," England said. He slid a hand down between their bodies and between America's plump cheeks. Using just his pinky finger, England began to tease the tight ring of muscle. America found his other hand and pulled it to his front, placing it wantonly on his erection. He rather cutely curled England's fingers around it and began to thrust again. As he came down, England pushed his fingertip inside, ever so slightly.
"Mmmm…ngh!" America moaned. "D-daddy…it feels w-weird," America said. England tightened his grip on America's cock, causing the boy to buck in pleasure, and he slid the finger all the way inside. America grunted in surprise.
"There's a good boy. It's all the way in," England said.
"It's big. You're so big, Daddy!" America said. England blinked and couldn't help but laugh a little.
"America, this isn't my cock yet. This is still just my finger," England explained.
"Oh…Daddy, I don't think your pee pee is going to fit," America said very seriously. England was half inclined to agree with him. He'd never had a lover so virginal before.
"Just…give it time, Meri. Daddy knows what he's doing," England said, with confidence he didn't really feel. He resumed his gentle pumping motions and began to wiggle and flex his finger around. When he felt like America was finally relaxing around the intrusion, he put two fingers together and pushed them gently up inside. Distracted by the growing orgasm, America just moaned and continued to rock into England's grip on his arousal. England crooked his fingers a bit and America let out a scream. Luckily, it was of pleasure.
"Daddy!" America shouted almost frantically. Now he grinded his bottom down onto England's fingers, clearly trying to guide England to that delicious spot inside him again.
"Ah, there we go," England said, clearly pleased. America began to drool and his eyes glazed over. England slipped in a third finger and caused America to squeal. Another burst of semen shot out of the boy and soiled the cooling water around them. America's whole body seemed to go limp, and England pulled the three fingers out and began to push his cock in. Still utterly spent, America just gave a little grunt as England shifted his hips upwards and fully seated America on his cock.
"Daddy…daddy…I l-love you…" America said, even as tears began to slip down his cheeks. That did it for England. No longer able to hold back, he began to thrust into America's limp body and his tight channel. He managed to hit America's prostate a few more times, causing the boy's slack body to spasm and tremble with pleasure. England latched his mouth onto America's throat and sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface of the pale skin, marking his new territory. He came minutes later into the very deepest part of the boy he could reach, filling him up with his seed.
For a long moment, he sat in the water, panting harshly, with America's plump ass milking him as he softened inside. England dropped his head against America's shoulder in complete disbelief that he'd just had such an amazingly powerful orgasm with America calling him Daddy, of all things. If there was a hell, England probably had a spot ready and waiting for him with his name on it. It was worth it, though. So worth it.
He slipped out of America, and raised himself up on unsteady legs.
"Daddy?" America asked, suddenly nervous.
"I'm not leaving, poppet. The water is soiled. Let's get in the shower and I'll clean you properly," England said. Gods, America looked sinful in the cum soiled water, tear tracks still running down his chubby cheeks and sniffling like he was. England extended a hand to him. America stood, but his legs gave out and England had to catch him. "Easy, love, easy," England said. Clutching to him, America shakily climbed out of the bath. England couldn't help but note with satisfaction that his own cum was seeping out of America's cheeks and dribbling down America's thighs. America clenched his legs together, looking down worriedly.
"I need a diaper, Daddy!" America said helplessly. "It's all coming out," he said embarrassedly. Then, to make England even more aroused he added, "I'm trying to hold it in, but I can't!"
"Oh, Meri, it's okay. It needs to come out. Get in the shower and relax," England said. America did just that, and the semen dribbled in a long, sticky stream down his tanned legs. America stood in the shower on wobbly knees, clutching the soap rack, clearly waiting for England to guide him. With a gentle smile, England turned on the shower and stepped in behind America. He coaxed America into parting his legs and began to rub away the semen, letting the water dribble down between America's parted cheeks. England marveled at how much of it there was. Had he really cum that hard? It had certainly felt like the best fuck he'd ever had, but there was just so much of it. He poked his finger into the loosened passage and America whimpered.
"A-again, Daddy?" America asked.
"Are you sore, love?" England asked. His only answer was an embarrassed nod of the head.
"B-but…if Daddy wants…Meri will be a good boy," America said determinedly. As if to back up his words, he gripped the soap rack harder and shakily widened his stance.
"No, Meri, you did just fine. Daddy will give you some medicine to make you feel better. It's over now. Did you…err…like how Daddy touched you?" England asked. America glanced over his shoulder at him with a shy, heavy lidded gaze.
"Yes, Daddy. I'll come to you whenever my pee pee hurts, or my hole wants Daddy," America promised. England swallowed thickly with possessiveness.
"Only me. Nobody else is allowed to touch you that way. Ever. Do you understand?"
"Uh-huh," America said. "If a bad stranger tries, I'll come tell Daddy right away," America said obediently. England allowed that scenario to play through his mind. America would be sitting in a bar, and some crude stranger would sidle up to him, drop a heavy hand on America's thigh…and America would come running to find him, eyes filled with fear, needing his protection, needing his touch.
That was almost turning him on as much as the whole "Daddy" thing.
"Good boy, Meri. Very good boy," England praised. He then set about his task of actually washing America, even shampooing his hair and then making him brush his teeth. America pouted quite a bit about that, suggesting to England he hadn't been doing it at nighttime. When he was clean and dry, England led him back into the bedroom.
"Err…" England said a bit helplessly. America quickly came to his aid.
"My diapers are in the drawer, Daddy," America said softly, as if unsure if England would really continue the fantasy now that the sex part was over. Swallowing back his reservations, England quickly crossed to the dresser.
"Lay down on the bed, America. Wait for Daddy like a good boy," he said. Filled with relief, America quickly stretched out on the bed, legs sprawled a bit, his body clean smelling and soft in all the right places. England found the drawer of diapers and pulled one out. He crossed to the bed and began to stretch out the diaper. America lifted his heels to the mattress and helpfully lifted his bottom, displaying his hole for England's greedy eyes.
Fighting against his twitch of arousal, England awkwardly smoothed the diaper onto the bed beneath America and then pushed it under his bottom. America reached out and touched his cheek—just touching, gazing softly up into his eyes. They shared a smile—one free of all the mistrust and hurt feelings that had built up over the long years they'd been apart emotionally.
That smile felt like coming home.
England leaned down and kissed America's lips, which parted immediately for him. England tasted America's minty fresh mouth and then pressed another kiss to the tip of America's nose.
"I love you, Meri," England said. America's smile widened.
"I love you more, Daddy," he said. Still smiling softly, England secured the diaper over America's privates and taped him in. America surprised him by flipping over and crawling towards the pillows. "Sing me a lullaby, Daddy?" he asked. England nodded and returned to the dresser for a pair of boxers. Once he'd slid them on, he tossed the towel that had been around his waist into the dirty bin and pulled the covers back on the king sized bed. He crawled in beside America and wasn't surprised when the taller nation instantly curled around him. America seemed to be setting down, when he suddenly remembered something.
"Wait!" America said. Puzzled, England watched as America rummaged around in the night stand. Where any normal young man his age would have had lubricant and condoms there, America had…a pacifier. He pulled it out and popped it into his mouth. An almost blissful expression crossed his face as he began to mouth the plastic nub, and England swallowed hard, not sure what to make of such a sight. Then America dug around on the ground a few moments until he produced a stuffed bunny. It was medium sized, and clearly well-loved. The soft, blue fabric looked fuzzy with many washes, and the plastic eyes of the bunny shined with loving care.
America snuggled the bunny a moment and then scooted back to his spot beside England. Clutching his bunny securely with both arms, America curled his torso over England's chest and sucked on his pacifier innocently.
"Okay…err…a lullaby? Right," England said. It took him a few moments to recall the old lullaby he'd once sung to America as a tot. It clearly pleased him, though, because almost instantly the boy was smiling broadly around his pacifier and his eyes were drooping heavily.
England sang and carded his fingers through America's drying hair until the other nation was out cold, and the pacifier had stilled in his mouth.
"Oh, America…I do love you, lad, no matter what…" England trailed off a little uncertainly. Yes, it was weird…but it also felt oddly good. Who was he to judge, when he'd enjoyed the fantasy as much as America had? Feeling so needed by the other nation again was like lightening in his heart. He wanted America to always need him, and now, with this secret between them, America always would.
A/N: Okay. Soooo…you made it to the end! Some of you might need therapy now, but you finished it! I know this was pretty out there, and I hope nobody stumbled into this fic and disregarded their own comfort zone to read it. I really don't mean to offend anyone—not any infantilism practitioners or my previous readers that only clicked this because my name was attached to it, despite hesitance to do so. I don't technically have to justify myself here, but I would like to say that while I don't live this lifestyle myself, I greatly enjoy the challenge of trying to see things from a different perspective. Societal taboos and "weird" fetishes really interest me in an academic sense.
Clearly, though, this is not academic. I also don't consider it PWP either. I'm open to continuing this fic if others have an interest in seeing it continued as a serious story…with some smut, too, of course.
As to where I got this idea from, I recently finished playing the game Catherine. One of the questions posed to you as you play is whether or not you would go along with a lover who wanted to act like a baby during sex. I'd never heard of that before, so I had to research it. It's a very interesting fetish community out there, and I highly recommend the game Catherine, too.
Please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts on this. I'd really appreciate any and all feedback, as always! lol, and happy Fourth of July! *evil grin*