The Inevitability of China

Even though Ryan's conversion had been Xiaojun's goal, he was stunned to hear how willingly, confidently, and enthusiastically the American declared his intentions.  It had been just 24 hours since that first glance in the gym showers.  A wide smile crept across Xiaojun's face; he knew his managers would be pleased with his performance.

Of course, the fact that the two had found themselves together naked in that shower had been no accident -- from Xiaojun's side it had been a carefully correographed setup all along, with months of preparation.

China's intelligence service had been working to develop a network of informants inside the CIA for years.  They'd identified Ryan as a candidate, along with several others, not based on their ideology, but based on sexual vulnerability, and they'd send Xiaojun to compromise him.

When the concept had been suggested by a mid-level officer in the Chinese intelligence services years ago, it was almost rejected out of hand -- the implication of adopting the "sexual deviancy" of the West was distasteful to the conservative Chinese intelligence apparatus.  But the ends justified the means, and Chinese pragmatism won the day, so the technique given a green light for a cautious, limited test.

Right away, it proved amazingly successful.  A converted American deep within the Commerce Department yielded information so useful it allowed China to surruptitiously cripple negotiations on a key point of a trade deal between the USA and Japan, allowing China the opening to swoop in and usurp USA's role.  The end result, which was not even noticed in the popular press, was for the failed negotiations to leave tarrifs in place on sale of semiconductors between Japan and USA.  In planned coordination, China eliminated its tarrifs and greased the wheels of semiconductor trade with Japan, defeating the USA's intended chip ban on China and, in the process, putting USA own beleaguered semiconductor manufacturing at an even stronger disadvantage.  Free market forces would do the rest -- twisting the knife China had already stabbed in.

In short order, the program was scaled up and made operational.  It was called simply '王' (King).

Xiaojun was one of many men recruited into this program.  Entrance requirements for the agents were that they be young, handsome, at least 6 ft tall, be physically fit, and have a hard cock of at least 8".  And above all, a background check ensured they had always demonstrated loyalty to their motherland.

Of course, such combined qualities were rare in any human demographic, regardless of race or nationality, but China's male population was so vast and its infrastructure for finding candidates within it was so focused and effective that the program had no problem quickly filling its ranks.  Ironically, in the training portion of the King program, Xiaojun was among the smaller of the men.  He was only as tall as the minimum height requirement, and three inches shorter than the average height of his cadre.  Other Chinese men were taller, more muscular, and better hung. Some of his fellow cadets even took to teasing him for it.

As it turned out, the teasing and his unflappable response to it is what distinguished him from his peers, and his instructors took note. Whereas others in the program were full of bluster and sometimes arrogance, Xiaojun was focused, his mind was nimble, and his strategies were effective.  He graduated at the top of his class in the training program, and was sent to San Diego, supposedly as a grad student, where his first assignment involved compromising a contact an area biotechnology company.  It yielded results in less than a week, and he was promoted and sent off to the Washington DC area, and his target would be the holiest of holies -- the Central Intelligence Agency.

And that was why Xiaojun was in Ryan's condo, with his cock swollen and slick and shiny with the slobber of an American who had crumpled under his onslaught and declared, in just 24 hours, not just that he would spy for China, but that he wanted to spy for China.

Xiaojun knew this alone was not the end goal, it was just the beginning.  He stood up and towered over Ryan; Ryan looked up at him with big, round, confused blue eyes.  The Chinese man knew he had to explain what would happen next.

"C'mon, let's finish this in your bedroom," Xiaojun said, leaning down and extending his hand down to the American, offering him a hand up. Of course, why do the whole thing on the cold and uncomfortable hardwood floor of the living room when the bed was at the ready?  Xiaojun remembered Ryan had a very nice bed.

Ryan took Xiaojun's hand and felt its strong, warm fingers close around him.  An insistent but measured tug helped Ryan scramble back to his feet, and in his unsteadiness, Ryan stumbled and propped himself up by holding onto the Chinese man's hips.

"You OK?" Xiaojun asked, with a tone of gentle concern in his voice.

"Uh... yeah... just feeling a little... weak," Ryan answered apologized.  "This is the first time I've betrayed my country," he added in a sarcastic tone, but as soon as he spoke the words, he realized they were completely serious and accurate.  It made him feel even weaker. 

Xiaojun detected it and returned the gesture, holding onto Ryan's hips to steady him as his legs wobbled like noodles.  It brought the two men so close that their cocks brushed against each other; both looked down, and were treated to a stunning sight.

Xiaojun's Chinese cock had softened slightly so it was sticking out horizontally, bent down by its own weight, and was resting on top of Ryan's hard cock.  Ryan's American manhood was so puny it disappeared underneath Xiaojun's shaft.  In a flash, anything Ryan thought he'd learned based on comedy club jokes or middle school taunts, that Chinese have small dicks, was erased and in fact reversed.  Here, before his own eyes, was unassailable proof of the opposite: 'Americans have tiny dicks.'  How could he argue with it, even to himself?

Xiaojun knew what was playing out inside the American's mind, and helped it along by grasping both of their shafts together in one hand, crushing them together and rolling them back and forth across each other.  Where Xiaojun was thick and long and veiny and golden-toned, Ryan was short and slender and pale.  Once again, tiger meets kitten.

When Ryan at last blurted out, "China is always bigger!" without any encouragement at all, Xiaojun knew his mental transformation had been complete, and that he accepted his Chinese cock as more than just an impressive part of his physiology. When Ryan started to moan and buck his hips, Xiaojun knew it was time change the routine.  Ryan would be cumming tonight, but not here and not now.

"Let's go," Xiaojun said, briefly stooping down to pick up Ryan's iPhone from the floor, then turning towards the bedroom.  Ryan stood stupidly still and didn't follow, so Xiaojun doubled back, grabbed Ryan's little stiff cock like it was the end of a leash, and tugged him along, leading him like a docile puppy to his own bedroom.

When they arrived at the doorway, Xiaojun let go.  Ryan paused for a moment at the doorway and watched the Chinese man toss his phone aside on the mattress and then sit down on the edge of the bed.  He spread his smooth, muscular legs wide open, and looked back at Ryan with a sultry, deep brown eyed stare.

Ryan knew what was expected of him, but since he hadn't been ordered to approach, he felt he could take the liberty of standing there for a moment in the doorway.  He just needed to look at Xiaojun, to let the stunned admiration wash over him.  After all, this was the first chance he'd gotten to take his time and take in ALL of the Chinese man at once, and it thrilled him.  His body was perfect.

As broad as his shoulders and as bulbous as his pecs were, they blended into ruler flat abs graced by an 8-pack of ripples, and a narrow, tight waist.  His biceps were just as balloon-like as his pecs, and a vein that visibly traced along the outer edge of each made them look even more mighty -- like it was a pipeline that distributed raw power to the muscles underneath.  Ryan made a mental note to run his finger up and down those sexy veins if he was ever given a chance.

Although the perfection of Xiaojun's torso was undeniable, even it seemed to be upstraged by his powerful thighs.  No one would accuse Xiaojun of skipping chest day at the gym, but his thick and bulging quads spoke of someone who did leg day at the gym more often than he needed to.  Even as he sat calmly on the edge of the bed, Ryan could already see they were shredded.  

And then there was Xiaojun's cock -- his huge Chinese cock.  Normally men with quads as large and powerful as Xiaojun's end up upstaging their own dick.  The Chinese man before him did not have that problem. In the time since Ryan's lips slid off that long shaft, Xiaojun had softened a little bit.  It now stuck out horizontally between his legs like a battleship gun barrel, instead of standing up rigidly straight like a proud flagpole.  Ryan stared at intently and could see the tip bobbing up and down in syncopation with Xiaojun's heart beat, each pulse giving the shaft a bit of a lift.

There was no doubt: the man before him was perfect.  And Ryan had found the formula for getting and keeping him.  All he had to do was work for China against his own country...

No sooner had Ryan accepted his new role then he realized something else.  With the exception of hugeness of his Chinese cock, which Xiaojun been born to inherit, he could tell that everything else he admired on Xiaojun's body was earned.  Underneath those mountainous pecs and behind those shredded quads was a body that had once been slender. Xiaojun had built himself into perfection.  That's when the idea forced its way into Ryan's consciousness: so had China.

Once colonized, invaded, struggling, and dismissed, China had worked hard and built itself from poverty and humiliation into a superpower.  The trend showed that China was on its way to becoming a hyper-power, with enough power to sweep aside any other country that sought to challenge it, even America.  If Ryan was right to admire Xiaojun's muscles, maybe he was right to admire China.  And if he was right to admire China, then why wouldn't he want to work for them?  He'd been offered the chance to be on the winning side, and he was going to take it.  The re-wiring of his brain was now almost as complete as the re-programming of his phone.

Xiaojun couldn't hear Ryan's thoughts, but he could see them play out across his face.  He could tell raw lust was building in the American, and that alone made his own Chinese cock start to stiffen up again.  Now each pulse of his heart lifted the shaft higher and higher -- from gun barrel to flagpole -- and the head that had started to draw back inside his foreskin now pushed back out, like the nosecone of a ballistic missile emerging from its silo.

The sight of Xiaojun's cock returning to flagpole status broke Ryan's trance, and he scrambled over to Xiaojun, intending to return to gagging himself on the Chinese cock.

But Xiaojun halted him in his tracks.  

"Stop!"  

Ryan had only closed half the distance to the cock he was hoping to devour.  He cocked his head in confusion, and stood as obediently still as a well-trained dog that had just been told by its master to wait before eating its food.

"Measure me." Xiaojun said matter of factly.

As incongruous as the request was, Ryan knew exactly what it meant. Xiaojun wanted him to measure his cock, and Ryan wanted to do it.  He moved quickly to the drawer in the bedroom and fetched the ruler he sometimes used to do the same to himself.  Only when he heard Xiaojun snort in disapproval did he realize his mistake -- it was only a 6" ruler.  It had ample length to measure Ryan's American-sized cock, but against Xiaojun's Chinese manhood, it would come nowhere close to reaching the tip.

"Go get a longer one," Xiaojun said with a laugh that made Ryan blush with a feeling of stupidity.  He ran downstairs and rummaged through kitchen drawers until he found a 12 foot tape measure, then ran back upstairs to the bedroom.

"Yeah, that's better," Xiaojun said, as if 12 feet of ruler might just be enough to measure him.

Ryan sank down on his knees between Xiaojun's legs.  The urge to swallow that huge Chinese cock looming in front of his face was almost too strong to bear, but he knew he had orders to carry out, and he intended to follow them.  It wasn't that he needed to be obedient, he wanted to be obedient.

With trembling fingers, Ryan held the end of the tape measure flush with Xiaojun's pubic bone, nestled in his dense but neatly clipped jet black hair.  He drew the tape measure back.

4 inches.  That was the size of Ryan's cock and the previous cock he got to suck.  The tape measure wasn't even half way done measuring.

5 inches.  The size of the American guys Ryan normally got to suck.

7 inches.  The size Ryan claimed to have when he was doing cyber sex and no one would know any better.

8 inches.  The size other people claimed to have when they were doing cyber sex but that Ryan never really believed.  Now, one was here in the flesh.  But wait, the tape measure still wasn't even done measuring.  Ryan drew it back further until he was measuring Xiaojun's full length.

9.5 inches.  Xiaojun's cock was 9.5 inches long!  Over twice Ryan's size.

Being Chinese, Xiaojun always measured his manhood in centimeters, and was used to seeing the number 24 on the ruler.  9 and half seemed to be downgrade, and it almost felt disappointing, until he was reminded of his triumphant size by seeing Ryan's reaction.

Ryan's face showed concentrated humiliation as the reality set in that being born an American relegated him to being tiny cocked.  As his hunger for Xiaojun's massive manhood surged, so did his admiration for what China could produce.  And as humiliation for his smallness crushed in on him, so did his shame for his country.  America the inadequate.

Ryan dropped the tape measure on the floor and started to cry.