posted June 14, 2000 01:39 PM            

The only sounds coming from the otherwise quiet east wing of Downy Hospital were from Room 333; this was Harold Lederman's private room. His pneumonia had left him with a terrible hacking cough, which would often keep him, and others around him, up half the night. His recent illness had left him looking and feeling like hell; his face was pallid and worn, while his body felt weak and achy. All that said, his health, which had been getting progressively worse during his first 8 days in the hospital, had taken a turn for the better in the last two. The doctors were hopeful; Harold wasn't. These goddam doctors are killing me!, he thought to himself. I don't really think they care if live or die! Although Harold really wasn't going to die, at least not as soon as he believed, his situation was still up in the air. His overall physical health when he was admitted to the hospital was poor. Harold was 60 years old, and he never once exercised or ate the right foods; in fact, he abused his body so much his actual age might have been more like 80. Still, the excellent doctors that took care of him felt he was improving enough that if he followed their instructions, he would be out of the hospital in two weeks. The only thing that worried them was his chronically bad heart; they constantly monitored it, making sure to tell him that he shouldn't get too excited because it would put too much stress on the weak heart muscle. And even though Harold didn't like to follow other peoples instructions, he had been quite a good boy in this matter; but only because he had very little choice. Harold Lederman was usually not such a good boy. In fact, he usually was a downright bad boy. During his 10 day stay in the hospital, only two people had come to visit him: the younger woman he was currently seeing and his mother. He had hurt too many people in his life for him to receive any sympathy for his current condition.

"Who has time to sort out how other people will be affected by the things I do. I don't give a shit if I hurt someone's feelings, and they shouldn't give a shit about mine.", was something he once said to his one-time colleague and former friend, Bill Berner, when he confronted Harold about some questionable personal and business decisions he had made. Harold became a rich man at a very young age; attaining success even beyond his wildest dreams. And despite all the wealth, he was still a very empty man. An empty soul with only two loves: money and power. Until he met Doris, he had never thought about love; and even then it was only a selfish pursuit, maybe something to divert his attention from some other problem. Harold and Doris Lederman, Mckean was her maiden name, were married on August 21, 1968. There were set up six months earlier by Harold's mother, who thought her only son needed a nice girl like Doris, despite being only 20 at the time, to settle down with. And Doris was very nice, maybe too nice. A sweet down-to-earth person who could find the best qualities in even the worst people; maybe she was naive, maybe she too innocent, maybe just downright delusional, or maybe a combination of all three, but she saw something in Harold that she liked. It's probably true what they say about opposites attracting, because you couldn't get two people more opposite. And somehow, despite these differences, they hit it off in the beginning. It could've been because Harold fancied himself a great actor; he knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted, especially weak people. And Doris was easy pickings for such a worldly man such as himself. His facade was so good when first started going out, that he could usually be a nice guy to be around. But once those vows were exchanged on that hot August day, things started to change; Harold started to change. During the next 23 years, he put her through all kinds of hell, physical and mental. And despite all that, Doris stayed with him; always doubting if she could make it own her own, and always hoping that someday he would change. He never changed. At the time of their divorce in 1991, Doris McKean felt reborn. She had finally followed through on her threats to leave him. She tried to leave that unconfident girl of 20, who had little or no self-respect, far behind her. She was going to work on her physical being, as well as her spiritual. She knew she had wasted 23 years of her life with someone who didn't give a dam about her, but that wasn't going to stop her from doing something special with the rest of it. What that was, she didn't know as of yet. Harold thought about Doris often. He missed her cooking and the neat house she kept; she always insisted on cleaning the house herself instead of hiring someone else to do it for her. He only reminisced about the good times, which were few and far between, and never felt even the slightest bit of remorse for the many terrible things he put her through. Harold's physical abuse of Doris was sporadic but intense: he twice put her in the hospital with injuries. But the mental abuse was a normal everyday part of their lives. Harold's insecurities ran deep, and making someone feel bad about themselves made him feel better. And that someone was usually his own wife: "Why did you have to go and buy some more new clothes! Is it because you're getting fatter than an elephant! Would you please try and lose some weight! PLEASE!", was part of one of his many diatribes about her physical appearance, which were usually out-and-out lies to try and hurt her feelings. Truth was, at one time Doris was quite an attractive woman, the kind of woman that any man would want to marry. But since the marriage, she had put fifty pounds on her once slim body and countless hours of stress on her face. After the divorce, he never saw her again, and that was 8 years ago. He often wondered what she was doing with herself. He would shortly find out for himself.

"Mr. Lederman, you have a visitor outside. A Ms. McKean, I believe. Would you like her to come in?", the nurse asked him.

"Yes, I would.", he answered quickly, but not sure how or why she had come to see him; he wondered how she found out that he was in the hospital, and why would she come to see him now after all these years; did she really come to see me because I'm sick?, he thought. Nah, has to be related to the alimony. I'll bet she wants more money!

"OK, I'll tell her to come in.", the nurse answered.

"Excuse me, nurse, but how does she look? I mean, does she look happy."

"Yes, she looks very happy, and she said she is quite anxious to see you. We were talking for a while out there, and she told me today was her birthday. I couldn't believe it! She looks incredible for 50!"

"Uhh, that'll be all. Send her in.", he said confusedly. Was this nurse exaggerating a bit?, he thought to himself. Did she really look as good as the nurse said, or was she just being overly kind? He wasn't sure, but it scared him terribly. He didn't want to hear that she was looking young and fit, while he was laying in his hospital bed like a invalid. He didn't want her to see him like this, so he tried to call the nurse back to tell her that he did not feel like seeing any visitors, but it was too late. He heard her walk up to his door, her heels clicking confidently down the otherwise silent hallway. She tapped on the door three times. Come in, was Harold's pensive reply. And as she walked in Harold's heart sunk in his chest. The nurse was right, he thought, she looks great. And she's probably just come to rub it in. I know she's just trying to get back at me for something. Doris had cut her hair short, which was something Harold had always tried to get her to do, and it highlighted her now youthful face nicely. Her face, which looked so worn during their marriage, now looked brilliant and full of life. He looked her up and down. Something definitely had changed. He couldn't put his finger on it. He also noticed she had on a bulky full-length raincoat, which he thought was quite odd seeing as how it hadn't rained in weeks.

"You look good.", was his attempt at breaking the silence, which was uncomfortable for both parties. Harold never gave out a compliment, but he was so surprised by her appearance, she looked like a new woman, that he let it come out without even thinking.

"WOW, a compliment! I don't think you ever once gave me a simple compliment in 23 years of marriage. Harold, have you changed your evil ways and become a better man? What gives?"

"No, I just thought you looked good, so I told you so. Nothing more or nothing less. And don't let it go to your head, because you still don't look as good as the woman I'm seeing now. I mean, she is gorgeous. And she's stacked beyond belief.", he said, knowing that the last comment would really hurt her because she had always been sensitive about the size of her breasts.

"No, poor Harold, I can see you haven't changed. Always the same old Harold. But you know what? I have changed. And in so many, many ways. I went back to college and got my degree in physical therapy. And I've opened my own practice, which is doing quite well. Oh, is that a frown own your face? What, you're not happy to hear I'm doing well for myself?", she said patronizingly to him, slowly pacing the floor as if eager to do something she had waited years for. "I also decided to join a gym and get in shape. You know how you always wanted me to get in shape, dear. You remember how you constantly told me I was no good fatso. Well, that really inspired me to work really hard at the gym, so I want to thank you for that.", she said emotionally, as if she was reliving all those bad years with Harold. "And now as I stand here, I just want to show you what could have been yours, if only you'd treated me like a woman!" As she said this Doris opened up her bulky raincoat to reveal a body taut with lean, hard muscle; an amazing body for any age, but truly astounding considering she was fifty years old, or should I say young. The only thing she was wearing under her raincoat was a pink bikini top and matching Lycra workout shorts, which hugged her chiseled torso and rock-hard glutes like a second layer of skin. She sucked in her muscular stomach and stood totally still, her huge arms rigidly to her side and her striated delts pulled back, and stayed in this position for a minute. He thought she looked like a Greek statue, perfection beyond his wildest dreams. Then she looked at him slyly and went into a "most muscular" pose. Each muscle on her upper body, superbly developed and hard as nails, swelled beneath her now youthful skin. He tried to imagine the amount of work she must've put into attaining a body like that. Even her smallish breasts, which he used to tease her about unrelentingly, now looked two sizes bigger because there was so much muscle bulging underneath. So much so, that they practically popped out of her tiny bikini top whenever she flexed her pecs. His heart started racing. Harold was getting very turned on. He couldn't believe a woman could change her physique so drastically. He'd always had a secret thing for muscular women; he liked to imagine women that he worked with, women with almost no muscle tone, with big, hard muscles. Now his fantasy woman, which ironically was his former wife, was standing not five feet from him. And as Doris moved closer to his bed, he tried in vain to contain his excitement. Doris bent over his bed and flexed her muscular arm right in front of his face. He could smell her sweet perfume as she did this; the perfume reminded him of a beautiful spring floral bouquet. He felt as if he was in one of those wonderful dreams you never want to wake up from. He was under her spell. And, oh, did it feel good! As a big ball of womanly muscle formed right before his lustful eyes, he could feel his heart racing dangerously fast, and he didn't know if it could continue to take the workout he was giving it. He could hear the words of the doctors saying "no excitement Harold".

"What's the matter, Harry? Is it that weak heart of yours again? Too bad, I guess I can't continue!", she said playfully and then crossed her arms across her muscular chest and relaxed her entire body. Then as Harold watched in amazement, she made her breasts bounce up and down without moving any other part of her body. "It's called muscle control, dear. My husband, John, (oh, I must've forgot to tell you I'm married) just goes crazy when I do it in bed for him. I tense one pec muscle at a time, and let him explore the hardness for as long as he wants." She touched one of her hard round pecs, slowly and very sensuously, gently placing a finger on the huge muscle; then she let her finger slowly find its way down to between her deep muscular cleavage, thoroughly enjoying her own body. "And this is what I do if I really want to drive him nuts.", she said looking down at her right pec and making it dance up and down so fast that Harold could no longer believe his eyes. "Do you still think your woman looks as good as me?"
"Please, you must stop! My heart is very weak, and the doctors say I shouldn't have too much excitement!"
I guess I'll take that as a yes.", she said as if she didn't hear his plea for mercy. "Look, dear, I want you to see something I've been working on! You know, the guys at the gym say I'm the strongest woman they've ever seen!" She went over and picked up a thick 500-plus page book that was laying on his bedside table; and then proceeded to tear it in half, like someone opening a fortune cookie, eager to read what's inside. She did all this with only a slight hint of strain. "How's that! Are you impressed yet? So, do you still think you can beat me up like you used to? You remember, like the times you used to hit me with your fists in my stomach!" She moved toward him aggressively, tightening her stomach muscles hard; ridges of muscles formed in her mid-section, an amazing sight that would better be described as mountains instead of ridges, for they must have been close to an inch in height. They reminded Harold of a washboard he had once seen as a child. "No, I'm truly sorry! Really, I am!", he said fearfully, not knowing what her next move might be. She put her hands underneath his bed and proceeded to lift it off the floor, like she was handling a new-born baby. Harold shouted like a madman for her to stop. His heart was hurting him and he was having difficulty breathing. Finally, one of the nurse's came into the room.
"What's going on in here?", she questioned. The nurse then saw Doris, her huge muscles straining ever so slightly under the enormous weight of the Harold and the hospital bed. "Girl, please tell me your a magician or something! There's no way you're holding up that bed by yourself!"
Well, if you don't believe it, why don't you come over here and see for yourself.", Doris replied. She put the bed down and smiled at the nurse. When the nurse approached her, Doris put her arm around the nurse's waist and lifted her 5'10" 150 lbs. body like a feather. When she put her back down, the nurse was grinning ear to ear.
"WOW! Are you strong or what! Let me feel that bicep, Girl!" She put her hands around Doris' peaked 17" bicep, never once even denting the skin with her fingers. She said it reminded her of a big rock. The nurse was totally in awe of her body, much like an art lover who sees a great piece of art for the first time. "How much can you bench press?"

posted June 14, 2000 01:44 PM            

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"Pain, is only weakness leaving your body"