The Inevitability of China

Although Xiaojun cracked a smile and took his hand off the doorknob, he didn't seem convinced that Ryan had properly followed his order. Walking over to the American as he still laid sprawled on the floor, Xiaojun knelt down pinning him between his legs again, and challenged Ryan's claim that bringing his cellphone to work at the CIA and home again met the intent of his request to "bring something from work".

"The same is true of your shirt," Xiaojun said dismissively.  No sooner had he said it, then he grabbed the front of Ryan's button-down shirt and tugged hard.  His strength was enough to rip off all the buttons in the front, and the shirt opened up in zipper like fashion as the torn-off buttons skittered noisily across the hardwood floor.  He easily pulled the shirt off the helpless American, tore it in half for good measure, and tossed it aside.  Ryan lay bare chested under Xiaojun, and too stunned to speak.

"And the same is true of your pants," he said even more cruelly, and proceeded to unzip those and tug them down Ryan's legs, along with his briefs.  The slender, short American cock that had been stiff ever since Ryan was marking his car sprang out eagerly and slapped noisily against his belly.  It was shiny and coated with leaking precum.

At the sight of it, Xiaojun interrupted what was sounding like a lecture, to coo "Awwwwww", as if Ryan's puny manhood was nothing but a cute kitten.  Ryan felt his face flush bright red as he looked at his smallness, but before long his eyes moved to the long bulge jutting down one of Xiaojun's trouser legs.  

Even if it was still concealed by fabric, the comparison was right in front of him, and left no doubt the Chinese man utterly dwarfed Ryan.  The analogy continued: if Ryan was a cute kitten, Xiaojun was a mighty tiger.  Recalling the hopeless feeling at work, of a game of cat-and-mouse turned battle of cat-and-tiger, another comparison forced its way into Ryan's consciousness: this is how it was between China and America, wasn't it?

As humiliated as he felt, Ryan wanted nothing more than to win Xiaojun's approval.  There was no chance he could do it with his body, so he knew he had to speak up for himself.

"Yeah, but we wear clothes into the CIA every day.  But we don't bring our phones into the secure area," he offered.  By now his voice was trembling with excitement to admit his transgression.

"Oh?  Why don't you?" the Chinese man challenged.

"It's against the rules," Ryan admitted in a voice that was chastising even to himself.

"And why is it against the rules?" Xiaojun continued, now sounding a little impatient that he needed to draw this out of Ryan.

"Because you could take pictures with it."

"Of what?"

"Well... classified documents."  Saying that out loud made Ryan feel almost sick, and yet he couldn't help himself.

Xiaojun's eyebrow raised.  "Did you take any pictures of classified documents for me, Ryan?"

"Well, no."

Xiaojun sighed in disgust.

"Or, maybe it could be used as a listening device," Ryan offered hurriedly, trying to head off more disapproval from the Chinese who was pinning him to the floor.  He knew phones could do that, because the CIA had done it.

By this point, Ryan accepted that this wasn't a simple-minded role-play with a kinky script, and that Xiaojun probably really was a spy.  But he also knew he had turned his phone off not long after realizing he'd brought it into the secure area with him.  The voice that told him 'You are being compromised by a foreign adversary' became too weak to offer an argument, and the voice that said 'Let him think he's getting what he wants and you'll get to see  that cock that's straining his pants' won the argument.

Xiaojun matter of factly reached across the floor with his long arm to fetch Ryan's phone from where it lay on the floor.  As he did, he leaned forward over the supine American, and Xiaojun's bulbous and perfectly smooth pecs drew so close to Ryan's face he could feel body heat radiating from them.  God, Xiaojun was so... powerful!  Ryan tried to crane his neck up to kiss them, but he was too late, and Xiaojun had raised himself back up on his haunches, still pinning Ryan underneath him between massive thighs.  The pecs were well out of reach.

Xiaojun retrieved his own phone from his pocket and held the two device together, just like he had last night before leaving after sex.  Ryan could hear his own phone make a series of tortured, odd-sounding beeps, and when Xiaojun drew his own phone away, the familiar glitzy home screen of his phone had been replaced with a much more utilitarian looking interface, with writing all in Chinese.

"What the... what did you do?!" Ryan asked incredulously.  

Xiaojun ignored him and concentrated on tapping through a series of Chinese menus that had been exposed on his phone. Truth be told, Xiaojun didn't need to answer; it was clear that some kind of advanced technology in the phone from China had mind-broken Ryan's American phone.  Those few tortured beeps had been his iPhone saying, "Stop!  I don't want to-- No, no-- AHHHHG!" as its American brain was eviscerated and re-written with a Chinese one.

A few more taps of Xiaojun's finger and the former iPhone started to play out an audio recording.  After a bit of background noise, Ryan could hear familiar voices, speaking familiar words.  His skin went cold when he realized he was listening to an audio recording re-playing the conversation between the director and his boss that Ryan had overheard while hiding out, pants around his ankles, in the CIA bathroom stall.  The audio recording even captured the delicate tinkling sound of the two men relieving themselves.

'They think our Chinese spies have shifted to quantum communication, that's why we lost them before.  But NSA can't even crack the encryption.'

Xiaojun's face lit up and his lips widened in a bright smile.  Whether Ryan meant it or not, there was now no way he could claim this was some kind of sexual roleplay.  He had provided confidential information to the enemy.  This was now treason.  There was no going back from that.  But his cock grew even stiffer.

Before long the conversation finished, and then the recording stopped. Ryan let out a sigh of relief.  Thank god he'd turned his phone off when he had. Xiaojun set it down on the floor and stood up.

Was he leaving?  Had he gotten all he needed?  Was he done with Ryan?

That question was answered when Xiaojun unzipped his pants and pulled them down together with his briefs.  "Very good, Ryan," he said approvingly.  "You gave me something I wanted, so now I'll give you something I know you want."

And then he knelt back down across Ryan, bringing his fully hard, powerfully thick, veiny, ram-rod straight massive Chinese cock inches from Ryan's startled face.  Holding it at the base, he swung it down against its steel-likestiffness to force the tip mere inches from Ryan's lips, then kneeded with two hands along the length of the shaft to squeeze out a drop of precum into Ryan's open mouth.

"You're going to suck me, Ryan.  And you're going to give me more  information like this."  It was clear to Ryan this wasn't a question, but it was just as clear that it wasn't a demand either.  

Ryan could say "Stop, I can't do this, this is wrong."  And then Xiaojun would probably pack up his dragon-sized cock and be gone from Ryan's life forever, to be remembered later as a momentary but erotic lapse of reason.  Xiaojun, being as perfect as he was, would go off to some other gym shower somewhere else, impress some other awe-struck American, and use him instead.  No, Ryan decided resolutely.  I want Xiaojun to use me.

Ryan's internal dialog continued.  'But if he uses me... I have to follow his orders.  He wants me to give him information.  That makes me a spy.'  The logical path was not hard to follow, and when he reached the end of it, he realized with perfect clarity that he was willing to do more than accept that Xiaojun was a spy for China.  He would become one too.  And if he did, he could have Xiaojun. He could have Chinese Superman!

"I will spy for China," Ryan blurted out, and his whole body tingled with something almost akin to an orgasm when he heard himself say it.

Xiaojun's smile widened.  He sensed how slowly the American's mind moved, and was sure he'd have to spend many more minutes leading him to this point.  But this time, Ryan got there all on his own: he offered to spy for China.  Xiaojun bucked his hips gently forward, and with that, the tip of his enormous cock -- the leading edge of China's growing dominance over the USA -- slipped between Ryan's lips and penetrated into American territory.

Nothing would ever be the same.