Fit for Anything,

fantasy fiction by Christine Stevenson.

Nigel, was your average well-to-do businessman. Forty three, greying slightly and a little overweight, not to say flabby. No doubt, if he was describing himself he would have been kinder, but then this is my story and my impressions are the ones that count.

Like most men that come to my Health Farm, he was quite ordinary. Which makes him a good case to pick. I have been running the farm for about five years now, and it has never ceased to amaze me, the amount of discipline that has to be applied to lose one pound of flabby male flesh. Of course, most of them have to keep coming back again and again, to stay in some semblance of shape. The odd one or two must find some discipline elsewhere in their lives; knowing their characters, I am sure they could not function without it.

The farm itself is in Port'gal, a few miles north of the capital. Although I am English, the weather there was never consistent enough for my liking and, unlike men, was beyond my control. So, away from the unbearable heat of the South and the erratic weather in the north of the country, my staff and I enjoy a near perfect climate and the satisfaction of training men to look after their bodies instead of abusing them.

Nigel arrived with the others who were attending that week, looking sorely in need of our expert attention. Mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, as he descended from our private bus. It was quite obvious that he would need 'special attention.' Nurse Sharp was there, as always, to check our new inmates off the list and show them where their quarters were. I stood on the verandah of the main house, a sufficient distance away, and sized them up. I always read through their medical records beforehand, and I always insist on a photograph. So as they took those first tentative steps onto my territory, I already had an intimate knowledge of each and every one of them, Nigel included. I watched as they lined up, awaiting their next instructions, and permitted myself a wry smile. I could hear Nurse Sharp detailing the rules of the establishment, and it was then I noticed Nigel was not paying sufficient attention.

The rules are quite simple. First and foremost, they are to do exactly what they are told, without question. Regardless of whether their instructions come from Nurse Sharp, Nurse Crisp or myself, Dr. Kirsten Kane. Breakfast is at six, lunch at twelve noon, dinner is at six in the evening and lights out at ten. Their exercise sessions and other treatments (diet, massage, sauna, etc.) are determined after they have had their initial interview with me. All of these will be adhered to and strictly controlled. I watched as Nurse Sharp showed them to their rooms, and instructed Nurse Crisp to bring Nigel for his interview first.

I do like the inmates to be instilled with a sense of respect for myself and my staff, so I insist we all dress accordingly in uniform style. I have also found that men are far more attentive if women are dressed in something that is appealing to the male eye. Consequently, I and my staff all wear black seamed stockings and severe high heeled shoes. Nurses Sharp and Crisp wear well fitting, white cotton button through dresses and a starched white cap. I prefer a white cotton blouse, starched of course and a black pencil skirt, with judiciously placed slits, which are merely to facilitate walking and not to afford the inmates a view of my stocking tops. Although this is unavoidable on occasion. And, it just so happens, that one of these times was Nigel's interview.

I was relaxing behind my desk, feet up, reading through his file, when Nurse Crisp ushered Nigel in. "Stand here in front of my desk, so that I can get a good look at you, Nigel." As he shuffled towards me, his head slightly bowed and his eyes most assuredly fixed on my stocking tops, I winked at Nurse Crisp and she left the room. "Stand up straight, Nigel. Poise is very important, if we are to knock you back into shape." But Nigel was not paying attention again; he seemed to be in a world of his own. "Did you hear what I said?"

Nigel jumped from his reverie, blushed and stammered something that sounded like "Sorry." "

I have been going over your medical file and working out a programme for you, based on what I consider you need. Take all your clothes off and let me see which bits need most work." Nigel, of course, wanted to know if this was absolutely necessary, and I assured him that it was. He started, very gingerly, to remove his clothes, his blushes turning bright red as he became aware of the critical once over I was giving him. When he was completely naked, I rose to my feet and paced slowly around him, pulling at any piece of loose flesh I found to be unsatisfactory or surplus to requirements. He flinched uncomfortably a few times. I gave him my most reassuring smile, but this did nothing to ease his obvious humiliation. "You really have allowed your body to go to seed, haven't you?" I said, as I moved back towards my desk. I pressed the button that summoned Nurse Crisp, and Nigel's embarrassment increased under the critical gaze of my able assistant.

"Can I please get dressed now?" he whispered.

Ignoring him, I turned to Nurse Crisp and gave her the details of Nigel's first exercise session - to commence immediately. She was to take him to the exercise room, dress him a rubber slimming suit and supervise a one hour session on the rowing machine, after which he could have a light lunch of lemon juice, salad and dry slimming biscuits. When I was sure that Nurse Crisp understood the regime I had decided upon for Nigel I turned back to see that he was standing with his hands over his genitals. "Nurse, a gown for Nigel, we wouldn't want him to catch cold."

Nurse Crisp picked up Nigel's clothes and left the room. We always confiscate their clothes to ensure no lapse in the dietary regulation. Otherwise some of the patients would be sneaking out for snacks. I returned to my desk and checked the file of the next patient, while we waited for Nurse Crisp to return. She was an unconscionably long time, perhaps we were again short of freshly laundered gowns. Nigel seemed ill at ease, subdued even, apparently concentrating on something at his feet as I surveyed him once again. Nigel eagerly took the garment when Nurse Crisp eventually returned, and quickly slipped it on, I stood and tied the ribbons at the back as he was having some difficulty with them. "Send in the next client on your way through, thank you Nurse."

They left, Nigel following Nurse Crisp, like an obedient little puppy. I was adjusting an errant seam on my stocking and checking the suspender fastening when I discovered the next overweight executive standing, gawking, in the doorway. "Ah..... Bernard isn't it? Come in and strip!"

After a not altogether restful siesta, with my personal masseur Raymond, I applied my mind to Nigel's itinerary for the afternoon. According to Nurse Crisp, Nigel had moaned and begged constantly throughout his stint on the rowing machine; at one point actually grovelling on the floor at her feet, begging for leniency. I decided to personally supervise him for the afternoon.

I had him brought back to the exercise room, and was gratified to see him wearing his white overall. As I am sure you are aware, hospital gowns leave no room for modesty, which does help enhance the authority of my staff. Nigel had a distinctly worried look on his face, and I can only assume it had something to do with the birch twigs I had in my hand. I decided to put his mind at rest, and explained that they were for the sauna - later!

I then informed him that his first task would be one hundred press-ups, to be performed at my feet so that I could better supervise. I placed his head between my legs, where I felt sure he would be able to hear me count. I was very soon aware of similar problems to those Nurse Crisp had experienced with Nigel in the morning session. He had done exactly ten press-ups, and even these were not executed properly, when he started to beg me to be lenient with him.

Due to the fact that my feet were so close to his mouth, one can only assume that it was for this reason that he hit upon the idea of kissing them to lend more weight to his pleas. It was at this point, however, that I became aware of his obvious sexual arousal. It was poking indecently from beneath the gown as he squirmed on the floor. Such an indulgence is bad for discipline and therefore not permitted to the inmates in my establishment. It was also obvious to me that he must have been sneaking the odd glance up my skirt, and that the pretence of trying to do his press-ups was nothing more than an excuse to rub his body against the floor for some kind of gratification.

There are many cures for this particular type of problem, but I tend to favour a short sharp shock at the first offence. I leaned over him and grabbing a sizeable hank of his hair, marched him smartly to the shower room, placed him in a cubicle and turned the cold water full on. One of the many good things about my establishment, is that we are blessed with extremely good water pressure. Needless to say, after several sharp intakes of breath, Nigel's enthusiasm subsided. I told him to dry himself off, hang his gown up to dry and report back to me in the exercise room. Unfortunately he had to do so naked, because for some inexplicable reason, we are always running short of cotton gowns!

When he returned he found me sitting on the vaulting horse, leaning on one of the hand grips, legs crossed. He started to walk towards me, but I told him to crawl, with his body flat on the floor. We all know how fit soldiers are and I suggested it would be a good starting exercise, especially as the press-ups had proved too much for him. He obeyed as best he could, but his flesh tended to act as a suction pad on the floor, and progress was quite slow. I was moved to a small round of applause upon completion of this task. I do find encouragement an essential part of my treatment.

"Well Nigel, I do hope we won't have any repeats of your furtive behaviour," I said as I recrossed my legs. He seemed to twitch visibly as nylon rubbed against nylon. "You will commence running on the spot, until I tell you to stop. Begin."

The whole of his body wobbled and bobbed as he attempted, what could best be described as a very slow trot, while his hands attempted to cover himself and maintain some decency. "Come on Nigel. You can do better than that! Knees up - one, two, one two........ you came to me just in time - in my professional opinion, you are just about salvageable."

My few words of encouragement lifted his spirits momentarily, but he soon fell back into his slow trot again, as soon as I finished speaking. Nevertheless, he managed to keep it up for twenty minutes, and I felt things were improving enough for him to try a little weight training. I asked Nurse Sharp to join us for this procedure, and having told Nigel to lie flat on the floor on his back, Nurse Sharp took up her position.

This is a weight lifting exercise of my own devising, which briefly consists of Nurse Sharp sitting astride the patient's head and shoulders and the patient trying to get up without using their hands and feet. It is very good for toning up the stomach and neck muscles, and I happen to know it is one of Nurse Sharp's favourite exercises. I watched Nigel struggle for ten minutes and then left. Nurse Sharp is a very good judge of just how much of this particular exercise a patient needs, so I left him in her capable hands, so to speak.

I was feeling in need of a good all over massage, of the type Raymond is so good at. The strains of personally supervising an exercise session are best relieved by relaxing and allowing Raymond to be imaginative. Besides, I was determined to be refreshed in time for Nigel's sauna.

After dinner Nurse Sharp reported that Nigel was in place in the sauna. Once again he had shown considerable reluctance to do as he was told, and she had to resort to tying him in place with the leather straps provided for our more recalcitrant patients. She also reported a most unfortunate incident that had occurred during Nigel's exercise period. Apparently, Nurse Sharp had consumed a rather large amount of water during lunch (it had been a very hot day) and Nigel's vigorous movements beneath her had resulted in him being subjected to yet another shower. He had also exhibited signs of sexual arousal again, and it was clear to me that a stern reprimand was in order. He was obviously paying more attention to his own pleasures than to the task at hand.

I clutched the birch twigs firmly in my hand as I marched towards the sauna. Poor Nigel was steaming away nicely, but alas his nakedness could not hide how perky he was actually feeling. He gave a slight groan when he saw me in the doorway.

"I hear nothing but bad reports of your behaviour, and I have first hand knowledge of how uncooperative you are being. I hope this little session will prove beneficial to both of us, and that the rest of your stay will not be marred by further ugly incidents." The birch twigs thrashed and teased, stimulating his flesh from every conceivable angle. Occasionally the odd little yelp would escape from his mouth, together with more pleas for mercy. When I considered his treatment to be over, and not before, he was untied and given another cold shower. I also had him locked in his room that night as a further punishment. Hopefully tomorrow he will no be so disruptive, so that his treatment can be truly effective.

I sat relaxing on the verandah, with Raymond as a footrest. I do like to put my feet up at the end of a hard day. Tomorrow is our cross country run. We have a very large private field, around which the patients are expected to run for two hours. Raymond normally arranges for Nurse Sharp, Nurse Crisp and myself to have a picnic in the middle of the field, and he brings cold drinks down from the house when we get thirsty. One day gone and the rest to look forward to. I am truly fortunate to love my work.

When Nigel and the others left at the end of the week, he was a changed person. He kissed my hand and thanked me for showing him the error of his ways and promised to look after his body properly in future. But I knew he had fundamentally changed his attitude when I read the postcard he sent to his colleagues at work. (I read all the mail before posting.) It read, "Wonderful place, lovely weather - but can't wait to get back to work - I feel fit for anything now!" Highly original - but then it was from Nigel. Who knows, maybe I shall have the pleasure of training some of his friends next year. I do hope so.

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