A Woman's Muscle Revenge
by Jomo at JMprodigy@aol.com
A wife seeks revenge on her husband by hitting the gym.


 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 be-
lieved, 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 in-
structions, he would out of the hospital in two weeks.  The only thing that wor-
ried 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 moth-
er.  He had hurt too many people in his life for him to recieve 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 someones feelings, and they should-
n'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 question-
able personal and business decisions he had made.  
 Harold became a rich man at a very young age; attaining success even be-
yond 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, may-
be 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 Harolds 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, be-
cause 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 fi-
nally followed through on her threats to leave him.  She tried to leave that uncon-
fident 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 some-
one 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 hosiptal 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 wom-
an 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 wonder-
ed 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 ex-
aggerating 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 shes 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 definetly 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 uncom-
fortable for both parties.  Harold never gave out a compliment, but he was so sur-
prised 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 compli-
ment in 23 years of marriage.  Harold, have you changed your evil ways and be-
come a better man?  What gives?"
 "No, I just thought you looked good, so I told you so.  Nothing more or noth-
ing 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 be-
yond belief.", he said, knowing that the last comment would really hurt her be-
cause 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 Ha-
rold.  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 practi-
cally 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 be-
lieve 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 amaze-
ment, 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 sensously, gently 
placing a finger on the huge muscle; then she let her finger slowly find its way 
down to between her deep muscular clevage, 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 proceded 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 aggresively, tightening her 
stomach muscles hard; ridges of muscles formed in her mid-section, an amaz-
ing sight that would better be desribed 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 proceded 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.  Final-
ly, 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 your-
self.", 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?"
 "Well, I've been known to bench 315 for reps.  The last time I did 315 for 
seven reps.  But my best lift is the squat.  Just yesterday Idid 410 for four reps!  
The whole gym must've been watching me!"
 "Are you serious?  That's phenominal, especially for a 50 woman!!!!"
 "Do these look like the glutes of a 50 year old woman!", she said proudly.
 Doris turned around and slowly pulled down her shorts, revealing only a white 
G-string.  Her bowling ball sized glutes were not only incredibly well-muscled but 
also cut beyond description.  Lines of muscle ran horizontally across her cheeks 
and jumped to attention with any little movement.  The nurse then asked if she 
could feel them for herself.  Doris gleefully obliged.  The nurse punched at them to 
see if they were as hard as they looked, and it sounded like somebody hitting a 
wall.  All you heard a short THUD, and that was it.  In fact, the nurse opened and 
closed her hand like it had hurt her to hit Doris' glutes.  Then she opened her hand 
and ran her fingers all over Doris' round butt.  Doris giggled with pleasure.  
 And poor old Harold was spending all this time pleading for the nurse to help 
him, but to no avail; she was thouroughly engrossed with Doris.  Finally, he couldn't 
take no more and his heart gave out.  I guess you could think of worse ways to 
die, than to be killed by a watching a female bodybuilder.
 
THE END