Cannon's Balls

No one in Red China would dare risk the wrath of Madame Toy, so she felt safe as she emerged from her hut naked to sunbathe. She held a blanket under her arm, her bare feet padding over the warm brown soil. The weather was ideal for sunning oneself. The light felt lovely on her smooth, bronze skin. She crouched down, smoothing out the blanket on the ground, then lay upon her belly, her head cradled in her upraised arms.

Soon, the sun and its balmy heat had her perspiring. That felt nice. She stretched, pressing her mound against the solidity of the earth through her blanket. It made her think of Cannon, that firmness, and either the thought of him or the pressure against her mons sent a pleasant ripple through her belly. Whatever the cause, she associated the sensual feeling with Cannon. She wormed about, recalling how handsome a man Cannon was, how virile he was in his response to her, wondering how the sex would be once she had broken him. It made the sun on her flesh feel exquisitely like foreplay.

After ten minutes, Toy turned over onto her back, not wanting to burn. She thrust her chest into the air to be warmed as her back had been. She had large breasts for a Chinese woman, but they were as firm and perky as the smaller chests of her Communist sisters, and Toy took pride in how their heft jiggled weightily before settling into place. Another ten minutes, with the rays of the sun penetrating deep into her creamy skin, then she would go inside and take a nice, cooling shower.

It was almost that time, when Toy was at the zenith of her heat with the fading warmth of her back and the sun’s blistering light fully soaking her front, that she felt male eyes upon her. She ignored it for a moment, telling herself that no one would dare cast their unworthy eyes on her perfection, but the feeling of being watched came even stronger into her consciousness. She shaded her gaze with her forearm and opened her eyes to see who it was.

There was Cannon standing over her, the shadow of his tall frame just reaching her toes. She did not know how he had gotten out of his cage, but she had no fear of him. Already her treatments, her torture, her mind games had done their work on him. He was featureless clay, erased of everything but his strong body and warrior instincts, waiting for her to finish imprinting him to further the work of the Communist cause.

Perhaps it was his whiteness, his size… so excessive, far beyond even Toy’s juicily endowed body, that he seemed the antithesis of the Chinese body itself. In fact, he reminded Toy more of the Neanderthal man of the Pleistocene era. The hairy body—the broad forehead—the close-set eyes and flared nostrils and thick lips and long arms that could dangle, as they did now, like those of an ape.

A U-2 pilot, his surveillance in Red China had failed. He’d been shot down and captured, though at the cost of many soldiers. Toy’s work over the past few months had been in conditioning and brainwashing him. And in order to withstand Toy’s torturously thorough methods, he’d been given hormone injections. They had given him superhuman strength, speed, and agility—it showed in his primordial body. His hair had grown profusely, a hirsute brawl on his chest and down to his loins, while his tanned skin was thick and tough, as if he’d evolved to withstand the whips and red-hot pokers used to control him. And then there had been the alarming growth of his genitalia. Already large by any standards, now he was tremendous, larger than Toy had ever noted in all her medicinal work. She was eager to try it for herself, but not before the beast was fully trained. Once he was brought to heel, he might well prove the perfect man.

Madame Toy was well used to the sight of him naked—as used as she could be to such oppressive size and stature—since she’d denied him clothes for the lengthy process of his ‘reconstitution.’ What did surprise her was that he was growing erect. She would not have thought that the battered animal he’d become would be capable of such a function, even at the sight of her nude beauty. She could only suck in a startled breath and stare with open-mouthed astonishment at how aroused he became.

Then she saw, with incredulous fascination, how Cannon moved his hand up and down the trembling column of his oversized manhood. Over and over again, he showed to Toy’s unblinking eyes the rosy-red head of his engorged length as it pumped through his tightly fisted hand. He was pleasing himself right in front of her—and doing so to the sight of her own naked body!

This was something Toy never would’ve expected, her perfect killing machine showing all the instincts for self-pleasure, as if his sense of decadent Western indulgence could not be suppressed. It was happening and Cannon was not at all self-conscious, doing nothing to conceal himself. He seemed to want her to watch—to be proud of what he was doing. Asserting his manhood, perhaps, in some simian way. Was that it? Was he showing off to her? Did he think she would want to see such a barbaric practice? And was he right?

Toy couldn’t guess what Cannon was thinking, if it could still be said that there was thought in the blank slate of his mind, but perhaps some subhuman instinct had guided him correctly. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but it was exciting her. Toy was dizzy with desire as she watched him lovingly stroke his organ, as if demonstrating to her what he would like her to do with it… showing her what she’d driven him to do… or simply having a bestial response to the urges her naked body instilled in him.

Toy could not stop wondering what the point of his exhibition was. Nor could she tear her gaze away from it. The combination of the animalistic act and the sheer size of his endowment made for a true spectacle, one that was too much to ignore.

Toy felt her arousal flowing inside her. She licked her lips without being aware of doing so. Nor was she aware of how wet and slick her womanhood had become, as though in welcome to the oversized erection Cannon presented her with. But she could feel her heart racing, her lungs heaving, and her breasts correspondingly lift and raise, as if her body were cutting out her mind and performing for Cannon as brainlessly as he performed for her.

In Mao’s name, what’s wrong with me? Toy screamed silently, flushing with shame as she reached down her slender body to the wet cunt that was so openly displayed to Cannon. For once, her well-ordered mind did not know what she was doing. Trying to cover herself? To join Cannon in satisfying her own body and its urges? Or to open herself to him, giving him an invitation inside her flesh that even Cannon’s empty vessel of a mind could comprehend?

Before her hands reached below the waist and the possibilities collapsed into an answer, she heard the whistles of the guards, rushing boots, and the chatter of the Chinese tongue swelling up like a swarm of bees whose nest had been disturbed. It did not take long for the towering American to be found, as naked and muscular as a Greek god in this land of pygmies. It nearly made Madame Toy laugh to see the guards approach Cannon, one or even two heads shorter, corralling him only because his mind could not conceive of resistance. Either that, or all his willfulness was directed at appreciating her nude form.

“Idiots!” Toy roared, silencing the jabbering guards as they crowded around the titan in their midst. “How could you allow him to escape, much less inflict his presence on me? Take him away and be gone with all of you as well! I want a guard posted on him twenty-four hours a day. This man is a prized possession of the People’s Republic and I will not see his value wasted because of your incompetence!”

Such was her fury in its venting that none of them even paused to note her voluptuous nakedness, something that Cannon had been able to do despite his cleared mind. Perhaps, as useful cogs as they were in the machinery of the State, her countrymen were… lacking. Perhaps there was something to be said for the individuality of the Westerner.

At the very least, it promised better raw materials. Toy hated to admit it, but she would never have tried so hard to twist the mind of one of the jackals under her command, assuming one of them had the will to defy her in the first place. Only Cannon was a worthy coup. Only he would return the investment of breaking him in the first place…

Disgusted with how conflicted she’d become over a simple male appendage, Toy went back inside her hut, throwing herself down on the floor mat and holding her head between shaking hands. Her elbows rested on her thighs and she stayed motionless for minutes on end, her breasts heaving as she stared blankly at her feet and tried to recapture the coolness of her heritage.

But she couldn’t. There was a fire inside her and it refused to be snuffed out. The lower it burned, the hotter it seemed to get, until Toy wanted to feed it just so the heat would be everywhere instead of centering on her sex and leaving the rest of her achingly numb.

Groaning, she flung herself onto her back and mauled the soreness of her luscious breasts. The soles of her feet dug into the mat. She spread her thighs, whimpering and sobbing as she harshly tended her swollen nipples. Her hips pumped up and down as if she could recapture the feeling of being fucked by acting out her part in it, but no. She needed a male to play his part. It would not work without what Cannon had literally dangled in front of her.

“I’m losing my mind!” Toy cursed to herself, jumping to her feet as she realized how whorishly she was acting. “I must have relief!”

A cold shower had never been more needed. If that didn’t work, she didn’t know what she would do. She knew with the keen self-insight that she used to dominate others’ minds that masturbation would not settle her—it would only bring her lack of masculinity into sharper relief. Still, she was sorely tempted to try. Looking down at her sparse pubic hair, Toy saw that the dark curls faintly sparkled with her aroused juices. The crisp hair clung to the skin of her groin in gleaming wet ringlets. The lips of her labia stood out, sensitive and red, pouting and ready to be fucked.

It shocked her how incredibly she’d been aroused, all at the sight of a man and his masturbation. The obscene display should’ve disgusted her, not tantalized her! In her mind’s eye, Toy imagined if he’d finished—all the masculine fluid he’d produce. Would it have reached her, where she laid beneath him? Was that what he’d been playing at—an animal marking her for ownership?

The notion was terribly upsetting to Toy, both because of her disdain for the concept of personal property and because she could only think of how much more intimate it would be to get her lips on that huge endowment and have his cum filling her mouth instead of the air. Only it was not yet wasted. He’d been interrupted! All his seed was still inside his bloated balls! She could still have it, if only…

But that would mean ignoring the setback in his conditioning—encouraging, even rewarding, his independence. No. No matter how her desires shook the tenets of her Communist beliefs, she would not stray from the path to worldwide socialism.

***

It was close to midnight now. For hours, Toy had been tossing and turning, unable to relax while the same thoughts that had haunted her conscious mind now tormented her subconscious. She couldn’t stop thinking of Cannon, caged in her laboratory, alone in the dark. She had to go down, now while everyone else was asleep, and see him again, without inference. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to rest—not with her sanity intact.

She didn’t bother to dress, as the entire point of the trip was to avoid being seen, so it made little difference whether she wore anything or not. Failure would be failure regardless. Being witnessed would not be mollified by proper attire.

Toy shivered in the cold night air, having slept in the nude. It was a gorgeous sight—her long, trim legs sculpted with muscle—her full, lovely breasts almost in excess of the symmetry of her lithe frame—her halo of glamorously dark hair cut away from the nape of her neck to display the fine features of her girlishly rounded face and delicately swooping neck—there seemed not an ounce of fat on her elegant and slender body, but neither was the muscle obvious. She was simply taut and toned all over, even where her bronzed flesh curved at the hips and bust, swelling into impressive abundance while refusing to droop or sag. Toy was as much temptation as she was weapon, a lovelorn vision in the white light of the full moon, and it seemed a cosmic injustice that her naked beauty was wasted on the unblinking eyes of the starry sky. But that would soon be redressed.

The loose wooden planks on the floor registered their protest, but could not manage much of a creak under Toy’s catlike tread. She gingerly made her way over them to the cellar door. There, Cannon’s prison marshalled a more open defiance. Toy’s breath caught as the hinges of the door let out a high-pitched cry at being opened. She swung the door open as quickly and as carefully as she could, then froze, listening with keen ears for any sign that she’d been overheard. It took what seemed like an eternity, but finally even her paranoia had to concede that only silence was answering her listening. She was safe.

Toy continued on down the dusty stair that led to Cannon’s prison. There, she reached the bars that cut off Cannon from the outside world. While Toy wore nothing, she did carry a ring of keys, tightly grasped in her hand to keep them from rattling. Now, by feel alone, she slotted the proper key into the lock and opened the bars. Thankfully, these hinges did not complain nearly as much as those of the cellar door. She let herself in, shutting the bars behind her, and found herself in the dungeon.