NOTE: For those of you joining us for the first time, this story is a vignette from Rubirosa's series "C*ck Star." The chronicle focuses upon the private life of a public figure.
As the most accomplished porn star of modern times, Samson lives out popular male sex fantasies on a daily basis. This story focuses on our hero's early adventures when he was just an everyday high school gigolo and championship bodybuilder by the name of 'Lance Leo.'
Lance has just turned 18. Like many seniors at Peoria Tech, he plays football, smokes pot, and dates cheerleaders. He listens to hip-hop but prefers heavy metal bands. He scored in the 38
th
percentile on his SAT's. His GPA hovers just below a 2.3. Lance wears Magnum XL condoms and is able to sleep with any woman he desires. This is his story.
*****
August 31, 2013: Peoria, IL
"Let me ask you once last time," stated the naval officer. "Do you understand the consequences of becoming Lance's guardian?"
Jane rolled her eyes. She knew he would tell her the same thing as his superior did yesterday. However, Jane had served under guys like Lieutenant Smith so she just nodded. The Iraq vet knew their meeting would end faster if she kept her mouth shut.
"Lance Leo is not a child anymore, Ms. Hawthorne. He turned eighteen years old as of last week. Therefore, you are under no legal obligation to care for him. I know you knew his father so this is a very generous offer on your behalf. We respect your devotion to Captain Leo, God bless him."
Jane stifled a sigh of exasperation. Smith was staring at her tits. Despite two daughters, the blonde cougar still had the body of a twenty-five year old. Jane had kept up her military exercise regimen long after she received her honorable discharge.
"I need hardly mention that Lance has undergone some difficult years," he continued "However, we can't discuss his background in too much detail. His work with the government remains classified."
Indeed, it was. The recruiting officers nabbed him at an early age. His father died in the Middle East so they didn't need a consent form. And Lance didn't go to basic training either. The CIA knew he had inherited his father's genetic makeup. Besides shooting up to six-and-a-half feet tall by 16, he possessed very low levels of Myostatin in his blood. Scientists believed the protein set a limit on an individual's muscle growth. Without Myostatin, Lance experienced a rare condition known as 'muscle hypertrophy' that resulted in reduced body fat and increased muscle size. As a teen, he acquired twice the usual amount of muscle of a Navy SEAL at peak fitness.
Lance would have made a formidable warrior but Uncle Sam got greedy. They tricked him into participating in a medical study for engineering biologically enhanced soldiers. The experimental drug boosted testosterone levels far higher than any known steroid on the market. Indeed, Lance acquired nearly superhuman strength by the end of the program. However, the drug carried side effects. He experienced a condition known as 'macropenis.' While most dudes wouldn't consider a ten-inch cock to be a bad thing, the drug also affected his personality. His high testosterone count boosted his sense of confidence and well-being. However, it also made him aggressive and disobedient. Neither trait served him well in the military.
Worst of all, his libido grew along with his big dick. A friend of Jane's had leaked his disciplinary reports to her. During classified missions in the Middle East, he incurred dozens of infractions relating to sexual relations with female military personnel. After countless reprimands, his C.O. recognized his behavior could jeopardize the safety of the high-risk missions they sent him on. Moreover, Lance did not seem particularly enamored of his regimented lifestyle. But a discharge would be tricky. Without any family to look after Lance, a guy like him could wind up dead or in prison. And the ex-soldier could spill the beans on the classified experiments he underwent.
In short, Jane was a godsend. She would take care of the teen until he could live on his own. The government could wash their hands of him at last.
"We think the best thing for Lance would be an education," continued the colonel. "His IQ tests scored way above average but he hasn't attended school since the tenth grade. 18 or no, we decided to enroll him as a transfer student at Peoria Tech. We developed a cover story that you both will memorize."
"So you're basically holding him back two years," she noted.
"A year in high school will help him adjust to the demands of being a socially productive individual. I advise you keep his age secret from others. Lance perceives himself as an adult but his behavior remains immature. His lack of impulse control and
maladaptive tendencies make him unfit for a more demanding educational environment."
"Are you done?" she asked quietly.
"Well..."
"Just give me the fucking paperwork. I'm the one doing you a favor."
Smith handed over the clipboard. Lance would be her problem now.
_____
They drove home in silence.
Jane lived in a non-descript suburban home. She worked as a nurse in a local hospital. Her Corvette pulled into the garage. She tapped the clicker and the automatic door rolled down. Lance got out first.
Jane admired Lance. She only had seen photos of him before today. His hair had grown out dramatically. The black mane of wavy locks almost reached the middle of his back. He refused the regulation buzz cuts that were part and parcel of military life. His insubordination pissed off the officers something fierce.
"Nice wheels," he told her, admiring her cherry red sports car.
"Thanks," she answered before walking past him to a mysterious veiled object that stood on the other side of the garage. Jane yanked off the sheet to reveal a vintage 1974 Harley Davidson Sportster. The bike looked to be in mint condition.
"Your father wanted you to have that," she told him. "Do you ride?"
"Sure," he lied.
"Bullshit. But I can teach you."
"Teach me what?"
"To ride."
"I reckon we'll be doing a lot of that," he grinned and let the salacious comment hang in the air. Lance opened the trunk and pulled out his luggage. Each canvas bag weighed more than Jane did but the muscular teen slung them over his shoulders and carried them up the stairs without so much as a grunt of exertion.
Jane gave him a tour of the house: kitchen, living room, storage area, and his father's old weight room. Lance casually picked up a 100 lb. kettle bell and curled it a few times with the ease with which she handled a 2 lb. free weight in her aerobic routines. His left bicep blew up to the size of her head with each lift. Jane had served with some pretty big guys in the military but none of them had guns like Lance. He had the body of a comic book superhero.
"You going to show me the rest of the house?" he asked her.
"Oh, right," said Jane, snapping out her trance. "Come upstairs."
She led him up to the second story of her tract home. His quarters were a clean and non-descript guest room.
"You'll be sleeping in here," she told him.
"No, I won't," he answered without hesitation.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there's one last room you haven't shown me, Jane. I want to see your bedroom."
"Well, I never..."
"Cut the crap," he said firmly yet politely. "We both know why we're here. Back in the service, I gave female personnel something they couldn't get at home. And now you've brought me here so you CAN get it at home. I just turned 18 so whatever we do behind closed doors is 100% legal."
Jane didn't argue with him. In fact, she didn't say a word. The cougar took a step back. He took a step forward. She took another step back. He was so close that Jane could taste him. Her shoulder blades lightly touched the wall. Lance took both her hands and pinned them against that wall. He closed in on her for a kiss. His manner was not so much predatory as familiar. Lance acted as though they had kissed like that a thousand times before. Or, perhaps, he had kissed like that with a thousand women before.
"Every rumor you heard is true," he whispered in her ear. "The government engineered my body for military operations. However, it seems I prefer to make love, not war."
Before she could answer, Lance slid one arm around her back and the other behind the bend in her knees. Without a second thought, he literally swept Jane off her feet. Lance strode down the hall with his female burden. "Which way to your bedroom?" he smiled. Jane pointed to the second door on the right. The teen did not seem like marriage material but he definitely knew how to perform a bridal carry.