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Big Bodied
Chapter 1
The morning began before the sun had risen.
In the half-darkness of the hut, when the world outside still held its breath, Jordi woke with a deep, slow inhale, as if his body had spent the entire night waiting for air. His chest expanded heavily, ribs shifting beneath thick muscle and mass, and the breath lingered before easing out again. For a moment he remained still, eyes closed, listening to the soft creaks of the wooden structure around him and the distant, rhythmic pulse of the jungle beyond.
The air was warm, even at this hour.
He lay sprawled across the wide bed, naked, the woven sheets pushed aside sometime during the night. Sleep had become a physical thing for him, deep, weighty and full, and it often ended this way, his body having claimed as much space as it needed. His back pressed into the firm mattress, shoulders broad and solid, arms resting heavy at his sides. His chest rose and fell with measured strength, thick pectorals easing against gravity. Below them, his abdomen curved outward, dense and powerful, the product of years of disciplined eating and training. His thighs were wide, heavy with muscle, relaxed now but unmistakably strong even at rest.
There was no tension in the way he regarded his body, even half-asleep. It simply was. It filled the space it occupied, confidently and without apology, just as bodies like his were meant to on Eldros de Rimbara.
The blanket lay abandoned near the foot of the bed, no match for the heat that lingered in the hut. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of polished wood, warm in color and scent, the grain visible even in the dim light. The hut had been built to breathe, to flex with the climate rather than resist it. Wooden beams curved overhead, sturdy and reassuring, and the floor beneath the bed felt solid enough to support him without complaint. A quiet but important detail on an island where weight was not only accepted, but expected.
Jordi opened his eyes slowly.
The ceiling greeted him first, then the shadows cast by the early morning light slipping through the open slats near the roof. Somewhere outside, a bird called, low and rhythmic. Another answered. The island was waking, just as he was.
He exhaled again, deeper this time, and shifted slightly, feeling the familiar resistance of his own mass as he moved. Mornings always reminded him of his size in subtle ways. The way movement took effort, the way gravity acknowledged him more readily than it did smaller bodies. He welcomed that sensation. It grounded him.
As always, today was already mapped out in his mind.
Helping at the train station came first. The early arrivals would need guidance, and the platforms always benefited from a steady, experienced presence. After that, he was meeting Tobias. The thought brought a faint, contented focus to his expression. They had planned to spend time together before heading out to the waterfalls later in the day. Bathing there had become a shared ritual. Cool water against overheated skin, the roar of falling water vibrating through bone and muscle alike.
And then there were the meals.
Six of them, carefully spaced, carefully chosen. Jordi’s mind moved through them automatically, not with hunger yet, but with respect for the structure they provided. Eating was not an afterthought on Eldros; it was part of one’s rhythm, as important as work or rest. His body required consistency, fuel delivered in generous, intentional portions. He had already decided what the first meal would be, and the second, and the third. The others would depend on the flow of the day.
He shifted again, rolling his shoulders slightly, testing how his body felt after the previous day’s exertion. There was a deep, satisfying heaviness to him, muscles full and dense, joints stable but reminding him, firmly, that today was not meant for training.
That realization brought a flicker of resistance.
Jordi frowned slightly, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts turned inward. Rest days had never come easily to him. Even here, on an island that understood bodies like his, that honored size and strength without question, the instinct to push further remained. Training had shaped him for years, disciplined and relentless, and part of him still measured worth in effort expended.
He flexed one arm, just enough to feel the muscle respond, solid and ready despite the stillness.
He could train. He knew he could. His body was capable, accustomed to strain. The thought lingered, tempting, familiar.
But he also knew why the rest day existed in his plan.
Eldros respected growth, but it also respected balance. The strongest bodies on the island were not those that ignored their limits, but those that understood them. Jordi had learned that lesson slowly, through experience rather than instruction. Ignoring rest did not make him stronger; it made him rigid, dulled his awareness of his own needs.
Accepting rest required a different kind of discipline.
He released the tension in his arm and let his hand fall back against the mattress, the weight of it settling naturally. His breathing steadied. Today was not about pushing. It was about presence. Being where he was needed, sharing space, allowing his body to exist without demanding more from it.
Helping at the station would be physical enough. Walking the platforms, lifting where necessary, offering guidance with a calm authority that came as much from mass as from experience. Meeting Tobias would bring its own energy; time with him always did. And the waterfalls would offer relief, cooling and grounding, water flowing endlessly over stone that had learned, long ago, how to bear weight without resistance.
The day did not lack purpose.
There was no rush.
Outside, the sky was beginning to change, the darkness thinning, light gathering just beyond the horizon. Eldros de Rimbara would soon be fully awake, its people moving into roles shaped by body, choice, and desire. Jordi was part of that rhythm, neither rushing ahead nor falling behind.
Another deep breath filled his chest.
The day waited.
Chapter 2
Jordi left his bed slowly, not out of reluctance, but because his body asked for time.
He leaned forward, planting his feet firmly on the wooden floor, feeling the weight of himself settle downward before committing to the movement. Rising required some effort. The mattress dipped once more under him before releasing its hold, and he straightened with a controlled exhale. His size made the motion slightly more demanding than it would have been for someone lighter, but the effort was familiar, even reassuring. It reminded him where he stood in his body and in the world.
At one hundred and forty kilograms, Jordi knew exactly what he was.
On Eldros de Rimbara, numbers carried meaning. Weight was not hidden here, nor treated as something abstract. It was visible, tangible, and openly acknowledged. Jordi was not among the heaviest inhabitants of the isle. There were men whose bodies towered over his in width and mass, men whose chosen path led them ever further into unbelievable size and whose presence reshaped rooms around them. Jordi respected them, just as Eldros did.
But he was no longer among the smaller residents either.
His weight placed him solidly within the island’s core. Large enough to command space without effort, heavy enough to be taken seriously without explanation. His body spoke for him in subtle ways. Through the way floors responded, through the way others adjusted their pace around him, through the ease with which structures accommodated him. He belonged here without question.
He stepped away from the bed, bare feet pressing into the smooth wooden planks. The floor answered with a soft, familiar creak, not a protest, but an acknowledgment. The hut had been built for bodies like his. Its beams were thick, its foundation stable, its proportions generous without excess. Nothing here needed him to shrink or adjust.
Still naked, Jordi crossed the bedroom at an unhurried pace. His movements were measured and automatically calculated. Each step shifted his mass forward in a steady rhythm, hips and shoulders moving in quiet coordination. There was self-consciousness in the way he moved through the space. On Eldros, the body was not something to conceal in solitude. It was simply the vessel through which the day would unfold.
He passed through the doorway and into the kitchen.
The change in space was subtle rather than dramatic. The kitchen, like the rest of the hut, was constructed entirely of wood. Walls, ceiling, floor, all shared the same warm tones, darkened slightly by age and the constant presence of heat and humidity. The air moved freely here, circulating without resistance, carrying with it the layered scents of damp earth, leaves, and distant water.
A large window dominated one side of the room.
Through it, the outside pressed close. Dense greenery filled the view. Broad leaves overlapping, vines winding through unseen trunks, shadows shifting as small creatures moved within them. Light filtered through the foliage in uneven patterns, scattering across the kitchen floor and catching on the polished surfaces of the counters. The forest did not announce itself loudly; it simply existed, close enough to feel present without ever intruding.
Jordi paused near the window for a brief moment.
He stood there, shoulders relaxed, arms heavy at his sides, letting the light settle over him. The day was advancing quietly. Somewhere beyond the trees, the island was stirring. People waking, paths filling, routines beginning. From here, wrapped in wood and warmth, it felt distant and contained.
He turned toward the counter.
The routine of breakfast required little thought. His body knew the sequence as well as his mind did. He reached for the shaker, its weight solid and reassuring in his hand. Measuring the powder had become instinctive over time. He added milk, sealed the lid, and shook it with smooth, controlled motions.
His shoulders rolled slightly with each movement, muscles in his upper arms and chest tightening and releasing in steady rhythm. His back shifted under his skin as he worked, broad and dense. There was no strain in the motion. This was not effort; it was maintenance.
He set the shaker aside once the contents were mixed, foam settling slowly at the top.
Next came the pancakes.
He poured the batter into the pan, the surface already warm. The sound of it spreading was soft and familiar, followed by a gentle hiss as heat met mixture. He filled the pan carefully, cooking multiple pancakes in succession, flipping each one with practiced ease. The smell rose quickly, warm and grounding, blending with the natural scents drifting in through the window.
As he worked, his body responded naturally to each action. When he leaned forward, his weight shifted subtly through his legs. When he lifted the pan, the muscles in his arms bunched and held before easing again. His movements were deliberate but unforced, shaped by repetition rather than urgency.
Ten pancakes in total.
He stacked them neatly on a large plate, the pile substantial without being excessive. He carried the plate to the table, feeling the familiar pull of gravity as he moved. The chair accepted him without adjustment when he sat, its structure solid beneath his weight. He placed the plate down, followed by the shaker, and settled into the seat.
Eating came without rush.
He cut into the first pancake and took his time, chewing slowly, aware of texture and warmth rather than hunger. This meal was fuel, but it was also reassurance. His body would be fed. The day would proceed as planned. The structure he relied on remained intact.
He drank from the shaker between bites, the cool liquid contrasting with the warmth of the food. Each swallow settled comfortably, spreading outward rather than weighing him down. He had learned long ago how to pace himself, how to let meals support him rather than overwhelm him.
As he ate, his thoughts drifted, unhurried.
Finn came to mind, as he often did during meals.
Small. Energetic. Talkative to a degree Jordi found exhausting. Finn’s presence tended to fill rooms in an entirely different way than Jordi’s did. Through motion and sound rather than mass. He spoke quickly, jumped between topics, and rarely paused long enough for silence to settle.
Jordi found him irritating more often than not.
And yet, the arrangement worked.
Finn did the grocery runs. He navigated markets with speed and enthusiasm, returned with bags full and arms moving as much as his mouth. The refrigerator stayed stocked, shelves filled with exactly what Jordi needed, in quantities that matched his routine. Finn never forgot items, never underbought, never hesitated to haul heavier loads than his size suggested he should.
Jordi didn’t understand where the boy got the energy.
He rarely engaged Finn beyond what was necessary. A nod here. A brief instruction there. Finn talked regardless, narrating his own movements, his plans, his observations. It never seemed to bother him that Jordi offered little in return.
The pancakes disappeared steadily from the plate.
By the time Jordi reached the last one, his body felt settled. Not heavy nor strained. Simply anchored. He finished the shaker and set it aside, empty now, and leaned back slightly in the chair. His hands rested on the table, fingers relaxed.
Outside the window, the forest continued its quiet motion. Leaves shifted. Light changed. The world advanced at its own pace.
Soon, Jordi would stand again. He would dress, leave the hut, step into the larger rhythm of Eldros de Rimbara. The train station would need him. Tobias would be expecting him later. The waterfalls would offer their familiar weightless relief.
But for this moment, there was no demand.
Chapter 3
Jordi stood in the bathroom, facing his reflection.
The mirror ran nearly from floor to ceiling, set into the wooden wall with a simple frame darkened by years of humidity. Morning light filtered in from a small opening near the ceiling, enough to illuminate the space without harshness. The bathroom, like the rest of the hut, was built entirely of wood. The floor was smooth beneath his feet, the walls warm in tone, the air already heavy with heat.
His naked body filled the mirror easily.
He regarded himself without hurry, eyes moving over familiar contours. Broad shoulders sloped outward, thick with muscle. His chest sat heavy and full, rising and falling steadily as he breathed. Below it, his abdomen curved outward, dense and substantial, neither tense nor slack, simply present. His thighs were wide and powerful, carrying the weight of him without complaint, calves thick and steady beneath them.
On Eldros de Rimbara, a body like his was not exceptional, but it was still worthy of attention.
He adjusted his stance slightly, shifting his feet apart, grounding himself more firmly. The mirror reflected the change immediately. He turned his torso a fraction to the side, studying the way mass and muscle arranged themselves differently at the angle. The lines of his shoulders changed. His chest projected more prominently. He held the position for a moment, then relaxed again.
He raised his arms once, slowly, elbows bending outward.
The movement brought definition to his upper body, muscles responding automatically. His shoulders tightened, biceps rounding beneath the skin, chest lifting slightly as he held the pose. He did not strain. He did not force it. This was not performance, only awareness. A quiet check-in with the body he inhabited.
He lowered his arms and shifted again, planting his feet wider, squaring his shoulders to the mirror. His posture straightened naturally, spine aligning itself with practiced ease. The pose made him look heavier, his presence concentrated rather than spread.
He nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
There was no judgment in his expression. No comparison. His body was exactly where it was meant to be at this moment. Large, capable, familiar.
Turning slightly toward the sink, he reached for the water. He splashed his face slowly, the coolness cutting briefly through the warmth that clung to his skin. The action required more movement than it once had. He had to lean forward carefully, adjusting his stance so his weight remained balanced. His shoulders brushed close to the counter as he cupped water in his hands and brought it up again.
He worked methodically, mindful of where his body was in space, aware of how close his chest came to the edge of the sink. He did not rush it. When he lifted his arms to wash under them, the reach was slightly awkward, elbows angling outward, shoulders rolling forward to make room. The motion was constrained not by discomfort, but by size. There was simply more of him to navigate.
He accepted that without irritation.
Here, effort was not seen as failure. It was seen as evidence.
He dried his face and reached for his toothbrush. Brushing his teeth was another small exercise in spatial awareness. He leaned back a little this time, giving himself room, elbows lifted outward to give his biceps and chest space. Foam gathered, he rinsed, repeated, and finished with the same unhurried rhythm that had carried him through the morning so far.
When he was done, he straightened again and looked briefly at his reflection once more.
Nothing had changed. And that, in itself, was reassuring.
He left the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom, the wooden floor responding softly beneath him. The space felt calmer now, more settled. The light had shifted while he was gone, creeping further across the floor, touching the edge of the bed.
He approached it and began to make it up.
The mattress dipped slightly as he leaned over it, his weight transferring forward. He gathered the sheets with both hands, lifting and shaking them into place. The motion required coordination. The fabric was light, but his reach was wide, and he had to adjust his grip once or twice to align everything properly. He smoothed the surface with broad strokes of his palms, working around the space his body occupied rather than trying to move himself out of the way.
Once the bed was made, he straightened with a small exhale.
The wardrobe stood against the far wall, doors slightly warped from years of heat. He opened them and reached inside. Clean clothes waited there, folded and familiar. He pulled out what he had already chosen for the day: dark jogging pants, a white tank top, and an undergarment.
He set them on the bed and stood for a moment, considering the sequence.
He picked up the underwear first.
Pulling it on was always the most awkward part. He stepped into it carefully, guiding one leg through, then the other. The fabric stretched as it moved up over his thighs, resistance meeting motion. He had to pause briefly, bending slightly, adjusting his grip to pull it higher. His thighs were thick, close together, and required patience to accommodate.
He worked the fabric upward inch by inch until it settled where it needed to be.
There was no embarrassment in the process. Only concentration.
Next came the jogging pants.
They went on more easily, though still with effort. He threaded his legs through, pulled them up, shifted his hips to help the waistband slide into place. The dark fabric settled comfortably once it was on, designed with bodies like his in mind. He adjusted them once, smoothing the material over his thighs.
Then he picked up the tank top.
The white fabric looked deceptively simple in his hands. He lifted it and pulled it over his head, arms threading through with careful precision. The garment resisted immediately. The opening caught briefly at his shoulders, fabric stretching as he worked it downward. He paused, adjusted his stance, and tried again, tugging it lower.
The tank top clung as it moved.
He had to raise his arms slightly, then lower them, shoulders rolling forward and back to guide the fabric into place. The material stretched across his chest, sliding slowly over the curve of his abdomen. For a moment, it seemed as though it might not settle properly at all.
He persisted.
After several careful adjustments, the tank top finally sat where it was meant to. It hugged his torso closely, fabric pulled taut across muscle and mass alike. He smoothed it down with both hands, feeling the snug fit settle.
He stood there for a moment, breathing evenly.
The process had taken time. More time than it once had. More effort than he sometimes expected.
As he looked at himself again, now dressed, a thought crossed his mind.
Maybe he should ask Finn more often.
Not just for groceries.
The idea lingered quietly. Finn was energetic, efficient, always moving. Helping with dressing would not embarrass Jordi. On Eldros, assistance was not a sign of weakness. It was simply another way bodies worked together.
He did not decide anything yet.
For now, he adjusted the hem of the tank top once more, rolled his shoulders to settle the fabric, and stood ready. The day waited beyond the hut, steady and predictable.
And Jordi was ready to meet it.
Chapter 4
Jordi sat quietly in the tram as it moved along the coastline.
The ride would take roughly twenty minutes, long enough for the rhythm of motion to settle into his body, long enough for the landscape to unfold without urgency. The tram glided smoothly over its tracks, its movement steady and unhurried, matching the pace of the island itself. Outside, the beach stretched wide and pale, curving gently along the edge of Eldros de Rimbara like an unbroken line drawn between land and sea.
Jordi sat upright in one of the spacious seats, his back supported easily, his legs set apart to accommodate his size. On his lap rested a black sports bag, heavy and familiar. Inside it, carefully packed in sturdy tupperware containers, was his second meal of the day. He rested one hand lightly on the bag, not protectively, just aware of its presence. The weight was comforting, a reminder of structure and continuity.
The tram windows were wide, unobstructed.
Jordi stared out at the sea, his gaze unfocused but attentive, following the slow rise and fall of the waves. The water stretched endlessly, shifting shades of blue and green under the strengthening morning light. Sunlight caught on the surface, breaking into fragments that danced and disappeared as quickly as they formed. The sound of the tram blended with the distant rush of the surf, neither overpowering the other.
His thoughts drifted.
The trams on Eldros were unlike those he remembered from elsewhere. There was no division into multiple cars, no narrow aisles or cramped corners. Each tram consisted of a single, wide coupé with ten generously sized seats, spaced far enough apart to allow bodies of all proportions to sit comfortably. The design reflected the values of the island. Space was not something to be rationed here; it was something to be shared thoughtfully.
Cars did not exist on Eldros.
There was no need for them. The public transport system ran day and night, its routes threading the island together with quiet reliability. Trams followed the coast, cut inland through jungle paths, connected residential areas to markets, stations, and gathering places. People trusted it. They planned their lives around it. The absence of private vehicles gave the island a different cadence, one that favored patience over speed.
Jordi appreciated that.
He adjusted slightly in his seat, shifting his weight until he found a position that felt balanced. The sports bag moved with him, settling again on his lap. Across from him, the tram was empty. There were no other passengers at this hour, and the space felt expansive rather than lonely. The air moved freely through open vents, carrying the scent of salt water and warm sand.
As the tram followed the curve of the beach, Jordi’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
His mind wandered without direction, thoughts rising and falling like the waves outside. There was no tension in him now. The morning routine had done its work. His body felt awake, fed and grounded. The day lay ahead with its familiar shape: the station, the steady work, the meeting with Tobias later on.
He was aware of his own presence in the seat.
The way the fabric of the chair responded to his weight. The way his thighs pressed outward slightly, filling the space allotted to him without spilling beyond it. Everything fit. The tram had been built for bodies like his, just as the hut had, just as the station would be. On Eldros, infrastructure did not merely tolerate size; it anticipated it.
He lowered his gaze briefly to the bag on his lap.
Inside, the containers were stacked carefully, lids sealed, portions measured according to a plan he trusted. The knowledge that his next meal was already prepared allowed his thoughts to remain unhurried. There was no need to calculate or adjust. The rhythm held.
His eyes returned to the sea.
The beach continued uninterrupted, a wide band of pale sand bordered by low vegetation. Beyond it, the water deepened in color as it stretched toward the horizon. The island’s edge felt open here, expansive rather than confined. Jordi watched a wave crest and break, white foam spreading before retreating again.
He breathed in slowly.
The tram hummed beneath him, its motion constant. He felt it through the seat, through his legs, through the steady contact of his feet with the floor. Movement without effort. Progress without strain.
Without fully realizing it, Jordi lifted his arm.
The white tank top left his upper arm exposed, the fabric ending high enough to reveal the full curve of his biceps. He bent his elbow slightly, watching as the muscle tightened beneath the skin. The change was immediate. The shape became more pronounced, mass concentrating as strength gathered in a familiar pattern.
He held it for a moment.
The size of his arm was not something he questioned anymore. It was the result of years of consistent work, disciplined training, and deliberate eating. He did not flex to compare himself to anyone else. There was no audience, no competition in the empty tram.
He flexed because he could.
He studied the curve of the muscle, the way it swelled when engaged, the way it relaxed again when he released the tension. Pride settled in him quietly, without urgency or excess. What he felt was not triumph, but recognition.
This was what he had built.
Not all of it was visible in that single flex, but enough of it was there to remind him of the path he had chosen. The early mornings. The planned rest days. The meals spaced carefully through each day. The acceptance of effort, of adaptation, of change.
He lowered his arm again, letting it rest naturally at his side.
Outside, the beach gave way briefly to rocky outcrops before returning to sand. The tram continued its course, unwavering. Jordi leaned back slightly in his seat, shoulders settling, spine aligned comfortably. His reflection flickered faintly in the glass of the window, overlaid with the moving image of the sea.
He did not think of what he still lacked.
He thought of what already existed.
The island around him supported that way of thinking. Eldros de Rimbara did not push its inhabitants toward a single ideal. It offered paths and honored commitment to whichever one was chosen. Jordi’s path was clear to him, not because it was finished, but because it felt consistent.
The tram slowed slightly as it approached a bend, the sound of the tracks changing subtly. Jordi’s hand returned to rest on the sports bag, fingers curling briefly around the strap. The station lay ahead, waiting, just as it always did.
For now, he remained seated, watching the sea one last time as it stretched alongside him, endless and steady.
The journey continued.
Chapter 5
The train station of Eldros de Rimbara lay beneath the elevated boulevard, hidden from the bright openness of the beachfront above.
From the outside, nothing suggested its size. The boulevard stretched wide and calm, separated from the beach by the main street where the tram had stopped. People moved along it at an easy pace, some lingering at the railing to look out over the sea, others continuing on without hurry. Beneath all of that, built into the island itself, the station waited, cooler and much quieter. Designed to receive weight and movement without complaint.
Jordi stepped off the tram as it came to a smooth halt along the main street.
The doors opened wide, level with the pavement, and he rose from his seat without rush. The black sports bag came with him easily, the strap settling tight over his shoulder as naturally as it always did. He paused briefly on the street, letting the tram depart before turning toward the entrance that led down.
The lift was clearly marked.
There were stairs as well, wide and solid, but Jordi did not even consider them. His legs were no longer made for that kind of repetition. Not for climbing down, and certainly not for climbing back up later. On Eldros, that choice required no explanation. The lift existed for bodies like his, and he used it without a second thought.
He stepped inside.
The interior was spacious, the floor reinforced, the walls smooth and cool to the touch. The doors closed with a soft sound, and the lift began its descent. Jordi stood comfortably, feet planted apart, his weight evenly distributed. He felt the motion through his body as the platform lowered, a steady, controlled movement that mirrored the tram’s calm precision.
When the doors opened again, the air was different.
Cooler. Still. The station spread out before him, wide and open, with high ceilings supported by thick columns. Light filtered down through long openings near the edges, softened by the structure of the boulevard above. The space felt anchored.
Jordi stepped out and looked ahead.
The train had not yet arrived.
The platform was empty, the tracks quiet. Digital signage glowed softly along the walls, displaying the schedule in clean, simple lettering. The next arrival was listed clearly: 09:00. Jordi glanced at the time displayed nearby.
08:30.
He had time.
There was no urgency in the station at this hour. No rushing footsteps, no raised voices. The once-a-day arrival of the train shaped the rhythm here, giving both residents and visitors room to arrive, to wait, to settle themselves. The return departure at 23:00 ensured that day visitors could explore the island without rush before leaving again. The schedule was generous by design.
Jordi appreciated that, too.
He moved toward one of the benches near the platform edge and sat down. The seat accepted his weight easily, sturdy and broad, leaving him room to adjust until he was comfortable. He set the sports bag back onto his lap and unzipped it partway.
From inside, he took out a protein bar and a banana.
Both were familiar. Reliable. He removed the wrapper from the bar with practiced motions and took a bite, chewing slowly. The flavor was plain but satisfying, the texture dense. He followed it with a bite of the banana, the softness contrasting with the bar. He ate without distraction, aware of his body, aware of the time, but not constrained by either.
The station remained quiet around him.
He leaned back slightly as he ate, shoulders relaxed, legs steady beneath him. The cool air brushed his skin, a pleasant change from the warmth outside. He finished the protein bar first, folded the wrapper neatly, and placed it back into the bag before returning his attention to the banana.
That was when he heard his name.
“Jordi.”
The voice carried easily across the open space, warm and familiar.
He looked up.
Tobias stood a short distance away, having just entered the station from the same lift Jordi had used moments earlier. He was hard to miss. Tall at 1.82 meters, with a large, powerful build that still moved easily, Tobias carried himself with an energy that contrasted gently with Jordi’s heavier presence.
His black hair was short and messy, as if he had run his hand through it more than once already that morning. His brown eyes were bright, alert, scanning the platform until they landed on Jordi. A grin spread across his face immediately.
He wore a sports shirt that clung tightly to his upper body, stretched slightly across his chest and shoulders, and jogging pants that allowed him full movement. Sports shoes completed the look, practical and well-worn. His size was evident, 125 kilograms of muscle and mass, but his body remained fully functional, responsive and ready.
Tobias walked over without hesitation.
“Thought I recognized that bag,” he said, stopping in front of Jordi. His tone was light, amused. “You’re early.”
Jordi finished the last bite of his banana before responding. He wiped his hand briefly on his pants and nodded once.
“On time,” he corrected calmly. “The train isn’t.”
Tobias laughed softly and shifted his weight, hands resting briefly on his hips before dropping to his sides. He looked around the station, then back at Jordi.
“Still empty,” he observed. “Gives us a moment.”
Jordi gestured subtly to the space beside him.
Tobias sat down, the bench creaking faintly before settling. He adjusted once, stretching his legs out slightly, posture relaxed. The two of them sat there together, bodies filling the space comfortably, without crowding each other.
Jordi zipped his bag close and rested his hand on it again.
“You eat already?” Tobias asked, nodding toward the bag.
“One meal,” Jordi replied. “Just finishing my snack.”
Tobias nodded approvingly. “Good.”
There was no teasing in it. No commentary. Just acknowledgment.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the quiet of the station wrapping around them. The tracks remained empty, the time unchanged. Above them, unseen, the boulevard carried on with its gentle flow of movement.
Jordi felt settled.
He had arrived. The train would come when it came. Tobias was here. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
And for now, that felt good.
Chapter 6
Jordi and Tobias sat side by side on the bench as the quiet of the station stretched on, unbroken for a while longer.
Tobias was the first to speak again. He rolled his shoulders once, then again, as if testing how they felt. “Leg day yesterday,” he said, exhaling through his nose. “I forgot how much I hate walking the day after.”
Jordi nodded slowly. “Quads or posterior?”
“Both,” Tobias replied without hesitation. “Heavy squats, then presses. I felt great during it. This morning?” He shook his head lightly. “Not so much.”
Jordi understood immediately. He shifted his own legs slightly, planting his feet more firmly on the floor. “Chest and shoulders for me,” he said. “Two days ago. The soreness only really set in last night.”
“That deep kind?” Tobias asked, glancing at him.
“The kind that doesn’t hurt until you move,” Jordi answered. “Then it reminds you it’s there.”
Tobias smiled. “That’s the worst. Or the best. Depends how you look at it.”
Jordi considered that for a moment. “It means it worked,” he said finally.
“Exactly.”
They shared a brief, quiet satisfaction in that. There was no need to elaborate further. Both of them knew what it meant to plan sessions carefully, to balance effort with recovery, to accept soreness as part of the rhythm rather than a problem to be solved.
Jordi leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his thighs. “I had to remind myself this morning that today was a rest day,” he admitted. “Didn’t like it.”
Tobias laughed softly. “You never do.”
“I know,” Jordi said calmly. “That’s why I plan them.”
The station remained still around them, but the air had begun to change. A subtle anticipation settled in, not urgent, just present. Somewhere deep beneath the platform, a distant vibration began to build, so faint it was almost imagined.
Tobias noticed it too. He tilted his head slightly. “That’ll be it.”
Jordi followed his gaze toward the tunnel. The digital sign read 09:00, the numbers steady. Right on schedule.
The sound grew clearer, resolving into the low, controlled rumble of the train approaching. Air shifted through the station, a gentle pressure change that moved across skin and fabric alike. Jordi straightened a little, his posture adjusting instinctively.
The train emerged slowly, metal gleaming softly under the station lights. It did not rush in. It arrived the way everything on Eldros arrived: deliberately. The brakes engaged with a muted sound, the cars aligning precisely with the platform.
The doors opened.
People began to step out.
Some moved confidently, backpacks slung over shoulders, eyes already scanning the space with interest. Others hesitated, pausing just beyond the threshold of the train, taking in the scale of the station, the air, the unfamiliar quiet. Their clothing marked them as visitors. Lighter fabrics, practical shoes, expressions caught somewhere between curiosity and uncertainty.
Jordi rose to his feet.
The movement was unhurried but unmistakable. When he stood fully upright, his size asserted itself naturally, not aggressively, simply by existing. Tobias stood beside him a moment later, equally solid, though built differently, his mass carried with more visible ease.
Other hosts joined them along the platform, positioning themselves clearly but without blocking the flow. They wore simple identifying markers, nothing flashy, just enough to signal purpose.
Jordi stepped forward slightly and raised one hand in greeting.
“Welcome to Eldros de Rimbara,” he said, his voice calm and steady, carrying easily across the open space.
Tobias echoed the greeting beside him, his tone warm and open. “You can follow us up toward the boulevard. We’ll help you get oriented.”
The newcomers moved closer, forming loose groups. Some nodded, some smiled uncertainly, some said nothing at all. The hosts guided them gently, indicating directions, answering brief questions, pointing out where lifts and paths were located.
As the flow continued, Jordi became aware of the looks.
Many of the newcomers stared.
Their eyes moved to him almost involuntarily, lingering longer than politeness would usually allow. Some widened their eyes slightly. Others stiffened, their posture betraying surprise they had not expected to feel. A few whispered to each other, hands half-raised as if unsure whether to gesture.
Jordi noticed all of it.
He did not react.
On Eldros, size did not require defense. Shock, when it appeared, was not treated as an insult. It was simply the first response of people whose expectations had not yet caught up with reality.
He remained where he was, visible, steady.
A couple walked past him, their expressions carefully neutral but their attention unmistakably drawn. A group of three younger visitors slowed briefly, one of them glancing up at Jordi and then quickly away again, as if unsure whether looking too long would be rude.
Jordi met none of those reactions with discomfort. He continued to greet, to guide, to indicate the way forward with simple gestures.
Then, among the stream of arrivals, one figure behaved differently.
He was slim, noticeably so, his frame narrow compared to almost everyone else on the platform. He wore a light shirt that hung loosely on him, backpack straps tight over his shoulders. His eyes were bright, alert, and fixed squarely on Jordi.
He did not look away.
Instead, as the group he was with slowed, he stepped slightly out of line and approached Jordi directly. His expression was not shocked. It was energized.
“Excuse me,” he said, voice quick but respectful. “Is it really possible here?”
Jordi turned his full attention to him.
“Possible to what?” he asked calmly.
The young man gestured vaguely at Jordi’s body, not rudely, just broadly. “To become like that. To get… big. Strong. Heavy.”
There was no mockery in his tone. Only eagerness.
Jordi considered him for a brief moment. Took in the narrow shoulders, the light build, the intensity of his interest. Then he nodded once.
“Yes,” he said simply. “If that’s the path you choose.”
The young man’s face lit up immediately. “Really?”
“Yes,” Jordi repeated. “It takes time. Structure. Commitment. But the island supports it.”
Tobias stepped closer, adding, “There are different paths here. Training, food, rest. You’ll learn what works for you.”
The young man nodded rapidly, absorbing every word. “That’s… that’s exactly what I hoped.”
Jordi gestured gently toward the lift. “The hosts will show you where to go first,” he said. “You’ll get all the information you need.”
“Thank you,” the young man said, sincerity clear in his voice. He glanced at Jordi one more time, not with shock now, but with something closer to admiration, before rejoining the group.
Jordi stepped back beside Tobias.
“Every time,” Tobias murmured, watching the departing group.
Jordi nodded. “Every time.”
But there was no weariness in it. Only acceptance.
The station settled once more into its steady calm. The day had properly begun.
Chapter 7
About an hour later, the train stood completely empty.
The last of the newcomers had been guided away, their figures disappearing into the lifts and corridors that led upward toward the boulevard. The echoes of voices, footsteps, and first impressions slowly dissolved, leaving the station in its familiar, grounded stillness. The air felt cooler now, calmer, as though the space itself had settled back into its natural state after fulfilling its role for the morning.
Jordi noticed the change immediately.
When the final host returned from escorting the last group, Jordi allowed himself to step back from his position near the platform edge. His shoulders lowered slightly, tension releasing in a way that came only after responsibility had been carried and set down again. He walked toward one of the benches, his movements heavy but controlled, each step deliberate.
He sat down with a solid, practiced motion.
The bench responded with a low creak before holding firm beneath his weight. Jordi adjusted his position, spreading his legs slightly, letting his mass settle evenly. He rested his hands briefly on his thighs, breathing slow and steady, then reached for his sports bag.
From inside, he removed three tupperware containers.
He placed them one by one beside him on the bench, lining them up neatly. The first held thick slices of bread, already topped and wrapped to stay fresh. The second contained a selection of snacks. Simple, practical, chosen to keep his energy stable rather than spike it. The third held fruit, cool to the touch, cut and ready.
Cold food. Exactly as planned.
Jordi opened the first container and began to eat. He took solid bites, chewing slowly, letting the rhythm of eating anchor him. His body responded immediately, a familiar sense of steadiness spreading through him. This was his third intake of the day, scheduled and expected, part of the structure he relied on without question.
Around him, the station remained quiet.
The train stood motionless on the track, doors closed, its presence no longer commanding attention. Light filtered down from above through long openings beneath the boulevard, casting soft, diffuse shadows across the platform floor. The space felt wide and unhurried, designed to hold weight and time with equal patience.
After a few minutes, Tobias approached.
He dropped down onto the bench beside Jordi with an easy familiarity, his movement lighter but still solid. He set his own bag at his feet and pulled out a protein shaker and a meal bar. Twisting the cap off the shaker, he took a long drink, swallowing deeply before exhaling through his nose.
“That always hits right,” Tobias said, satisfied.
Jordi nodded slightly, continuing to eat.
Tobias tore open the wrapper of the meal bar and leaned back as he took his first bite. He chewed for a moment, then laughed softly. “You know,” he said, “there was nothing special again.”
Jordi glanced at him briefly, then returned his focus to his food. “You say that every time.”
“And every time I’m right,” Tobias replied, grinning. “Not a single one worth sticking around for.”
Jordi didn’t answer immediately.
As he ate, his thoughts drifted back to earlier. To the narrow young man who had stepped forward without hesitation. The brightness in his eyes. The eagerness in his voice when he asked if it was truly possible to become big and strong on Eldros de Rimbara.
Jordi had seen that look before.
It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t rare either. It was the look of someone standing at the edge of a possibility they hadn’t dared to believe in until that moment. The young man’s frame had been slim, but not fragile. His posture had been alert, engaged. He hadn’t looked intimidated by Jordi’s size. Only inspired.
Potential.
Jordi could already imagine how a body like that might change over time, given structure, food, rest, and commitment. He could picture muscle settling onto that frame, weight increasing gradually, confidence growing alongside mass.
And, he admitted quietly to himself, the boy had a pleasant face. Open. Expressive. Easy to look at.
“There was one,” Jordi said eventually.
Tobias paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh?”
“The slim one,” Jordi continued calmly. “The one who asked if it was really possible.”
Tobias smiled immediately. “Ah. Him.”
“There’s potential there,” Jordi said. “If he commits.”
Tobias chuckled. “You always spot that kind of thing.”
“It’s part of being here,” Jordi replied. “Seeing what could be.”
They ate together in comfortable silence after that. Tobias alternated between his shake and his meal bar, while Jordi worked methodically through his containers, moving from bread to fruit and then to the remaining snacks. Each bite settled him further, reinforcing the calm, grounded state he preferred.
Halfway through his shake, Tobias suddenly straightened slightly, as if a thought had just surfaced. “Oh,” he said. “There’s a party this Saturday.”
Jordi didn’t look up. “No,” he said evenly.
Tobias blinked, then laughed. “I haven’t even asked yet.”
“You were about to,” Jordi replied.
“That obvious?”
“Yes.”
Tobias leaned back against the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You never even consider it.”
“I don’t need to,” Jordi said after swallowing another bite. “I train early Sunday morning.”
“That again,” Tobias said, amused.
“That always,” Jordi replied calmly.
Tobias shook his head, smiling. “You could train later. Just once.”
Jordi paused, then answered evenly. “I wouldn’t enjoy the party. And I wouldn’t enjoy missing the session. That’s not a good exchange.”
Tobias considered that, nodding slowly. “Fair.”
He took another drink from his shaker, then shrugged. “I’m still deciding. I’ll probably go.”
Jordi glanced at him briefly. “And train later on Sunday.”
“Exactly,” Tobias said with a grin. “Flexible.”
“Different paths,” Jordi said quietly.
Tobias smiled at that. “Different paths.”
They finished their meals without further discussion. Jordi closed each container carefully and placed them back into his bag. When he zipped it shut, he felt settled again; fed, balanced, and steady.
Chapter 8
After Jordi had emptied all three tupperware containers and carefully stored them back in his sports bag, he rose from the bench with a controlled, practiced motion. The familiar weight of the bag settled against his shoulder as he adjusted the strap. His body felt steady and fueled, the kind of grounded calm that came only when planning and execution aligned perfectly.
Tobias stood as well, giving his shaker a final shake before screwing the lid back on. He slipped it into his own bag and stretched once, rolling his shoulders.
“I’ll head home first,” Tobias said. “Need to grab something.”
Jordi nodded. “I’ll go ahead.”
They exchanged a brief, casual goodbye, the kind that didn’t need emphasis. They had already made their next plan.
“Boulevard,” Tobias said. “Our usual terrace. If it’s full…”
“The one next to it,” Jordi finished.
Tobias smiled. “Exactly.”
They turned toward the lift together, their footsteps echoing softly across the platform. The station felt even quieter now, almost empty, its purpose for the morning complete. The lift doors opened smoothly and they stepped inside.
The lift rose steadily, carrying them upward from the cool stillness of the station toward the open air above. Jordi stood comfortably, one hand resting lightly against the wall, his posture relaxed. Tobias leaned back slightly, watching the indicator lights pass without much interest.
When the doors opened again, the boulevard greeted them with warmth and movement.
Light flooded in immediately, bright but not harsh. The tropical air was thick with distant scents. Salt from the ocean, greenery warmed by the sun, food drifting from cafés just beginning to fill. The boulevard stretched wide in both directions, built to accommodate bodies of all sizes, its paths broad and gently sloped.
They stepped out together, then paused.
Tobias gestured casually down one of the side paths. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Jordi nodded. “Take your time.”
Tobias turned and headed off toward his apartment complex, his pace easy. The building he walked toward rose organically from the boulevard, its curved lines and layered balconies echoing the natural forms of the island itself. It didn’t dominate the space; it belonged to it.
Jordi watched him go for a moment, then turned the other way.
The terrace was calling.
He shifted the bag on his shoulder and began walking along the boulevard, his steps slow but steady. The surface beneath his feet was smooth, resilient, designed to absorb impact and support weight without strain. Each step felt solid, reassuring.
People noticed him immediately.
As Jordi moved forward, those ahead of him adjusted their paths instinctively. Some stepped slightly aside, others paused briefly to let him pass. There was no fear in it, no tension, just awareness and respect. On Eldros de Rimbara, large bodies shaped the flow of space naturally.
Jordi walked straight through the center of it all.
He felt the subtle changes around him without needing to look directly. Conversations paused and resumed. Glances followed him, then drifted away again. Some people smiled as he passed; others simply acknowledged his presence with a nod.
He enjoyed the feeling.
Not as a performance, not as something earned in the moment, but as a quiet affirmation of belonging. His size wasn’t something he carried defensively. It was something he inhabited fully.
As he passed storefronts and restaurants, reflections appeared in the glass.
Jordi caught sight of himself in one window, then another. He slowed just slightly, letting his gaze linger as he walked. The reflection showed a massive frame moving with calm control. Broad shoulders stuck out of the tight fabric of his white tank top, the material stretched smoothly across his chest. His torso was thick, powerful, heavy in a way that spoke of deliberate choices and long-term commitment.
He liked what he saw.
The reflection shifted as he moved, offering different angles. His posture was upright, confident without stiffness. His stride was wide but steady, each step placed with intention. The bag on his shoulder looked almost small against his frame.
He met his own eyes briefly in the glass.
Blue. Focused. Calm.
He thought, not for the first time that day, that he looked damn good.
The boulevard opened up slightly ahead, revealing a cluster of terraces overlooking the water. Tables were arranged in generous spacing, shaded by light canopies that moved gently in the breeze. The sound of waves reached him faintly, rhythmic and unhurried.
The familiar terrace came into view.
Jordi scanned it as he approached. A few tables were already occupied, people sitting back comfortably, drinks in hand. He spotted an open spot near the edge, one of his favorites. Plenty of space. Good view.
Perfect.
He adjusted his path toward it, already imagining the cold weight of a milkshake in his hand. The thought brought a small, satisfied smile to his face. It wasn’t part of his strict meal planning, but it fit. He had accounted for it. Indulgence, here, was not the opposite of discipline. It was part of it.
As he walked the last stretch, another reflection caught his eye in the polished surface of a nearby restaurant façade. This one showed him from the side, emphasizing the depth of his build, the way mass settled naturally on his frame. He turned his head slightly as he passed, confirming what he already knew.
Yes. Definitely good.
He stepped onto the terrace area, the surface changing subtly beneath his feet. The tables were sturdy, the chairs wide and reinforced, designed without fuss or spectacle. A server glanced up, recognition flickering across their face, and gestured casually toward the open table.
Jordi nodded in acknowledgment and moved toward it, the chair sliding back smoothly as he reached it. He didn’t sit yet. There was no rush.
He set his bag down carefully beside the table and straightened, letting his shoulders roll back once. The breeze moved across his skin, warm and pleasant. Around him, the boulevard continued its slow, living rhythm.
Soon, Tobias would join him.
For now, Jordi stood there for a moment longer, fully present in his body, in the space, in the ease of the day unfolding exactly as planned.
Chapter 9
A large part of the day passed on the terrace, almost without them noticing.
Time behaved differently there. It did not press forward or demand attention, but unfolded slowly, shaped by long conversations, pauses, and the steady presence of food and drink. Jordi and Tobias remained seated for hours, their chairs angled comfortably toward the water, bodies fully supported by the wide, reinforced frames. The terrace had been built for people like them; space between tables, solid materials, no need for anyone to adjust themselves to fit.
They talked, sometimes at length, sometimes barely at all. Topics drifted from training routines to island logistics, from small observations about people passing by to comfortable stretches of silence where neither felt the need to fill the air. Servers came and went, recognizing them easily, exchanging a few familiar words before setting down drinks or clearing plates.
The sun climbed, then began its gradual descent.
Shadows shifted across the stone floor of the terrace, stretching longer as the hours passed. The light softened from bright tropical clarity into something warmer, richer. A breeze rolled in from the water now and then, just enough to cool skin without cutting through the heat entirely.
Eventually, Jordi finished his fourth meal of the day.
The plate in front of him was empty, scraped clean with deliberate thoroughness. He leaned back slightly in his chair, one broad forearm resting on the table, the other settling against his thigh. He exhaled slowly, not out of fatigue, but satisfaction. The weight in his stomach was familiar and welcome, a deep, steady fullness that grounded him further into his body.
He felt solid. Fueled. Exactly where he needed to be.
Tobias noticed immediately. “That’s four, right?”
Jordi nodded. “Yes.”
“Right on schedule,” Tobias said, shaking his head with a grin. “You really don’t miss a beat.”
“I don’t need to,” Jordi replied calmly. “The plan does the work.”
Tobias laughed softly and took the last sip from his drink before setting the glass down. “I don’t know if I could live like that.”
“You do,” Jordi said. “Just differently.”
That earned him another quiet laugh.
They stayed seated a while longer, neither in a hurry to leave. The terrace continued to fill and empty in slow cycles. People arrived for late drinks, others stood up and left, conversations rising and fading like the tide beyond the railing.
By the time they finally decided to move on, the sun had already dropped significantly.
The sky had shifted toward deeper tones, the light no longer overhead but angled low, casting long shadows across the boulevard. The air cooled enough to be noticeable, brushing gently against skin that had grown accustomed to the warmth of the day.
Jordi pushed his chair back and stood, rising with the same controlled steadiness he always carried. Tobias followed a moment later, stretching his arms above his head before rolling his shoulders loose.
“Ready?” Tobias asked.
Jordi nodded. “Yeah. Tram.”
They gathered their things and stepped away from the terrace, merging smoothly into the flow of the boulevard.
The boulevard felt different now.
Still active, but calmer. People walked more slowly, some in pairs, some alone, voices lower, movements less hurried. Lights along storefronts and beneath awnings had begun to glow, reflecting softly in glass and polished stone. The ocean, barely visible from here, carried its steady rhythm into the evening air.
They walked side by side, their steps naturally aligned despite the difference in their builds. Tobias moved lightly, with an easy bounce still present even after a long day. Jordi’s stride was heavier, broader, but just as controlled, each step placed with intention.
They were about halfway to the tram stop when Jordi heard a voice.
“Eh… hello?”
The voice was tentative, but clear.
He slowed immediately and turned.
The slim young man from the train station stood a short distance away, clearly having debated whether to approach. Up close, the contrast between them was unmistakable. The young man’s frame was narrow, shoulders lightly built, his clothes hanging loosely where Jordi’s clung tight to sheer mass. Yet his posture was upright, alert, eyes bright with curiosity rather than uncertainty.
“Yes,” Jordi said calmly.
Relief crossed the young man’s face as he stepped closer, stopping at a respectful distance. “I was hoping it was you,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Jordi shook his head slightly. “It’s fine.”
The young man glanced briefly at Tobias, then back at Jordi. “I wanted to ask you something. Earlier. At the station.”
“I remember,” Jordi said.
Encouraged, the young man continued. “I’ve never seen anyone built like you before. Not in real life. And I just…” He hesitated for a moment, then pushed through it. “I want to know how you got that big. How you built all of this.”
There was no awe-struck staring now, no shock. Just focused interest.
Jordi listened, then briefly glanced down the boulevard toward the tram stop. The light was dropping quickly. Time mattered.
“I don’t have much time to talk right now,” Jordi said honestly. “But tomorrow, I do.”
The young man’s expression shifted immediately. His shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flashing across his face before he could hide it. “Oh,” he said. “I’m actually leaving tonight.”
Jordi studied him for a moment longer.
“Will you come back?” he asked.
The question seemed to surprise the young man. His eyes widened slightly, then softened as a smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Absolutely. I love it here. Everything about this place just… makes sense.”
Jordi nodded once. “If you come back,” he said, “I’ll try to make time. We can talk properly then.”
The young man’s smile widened, genuine and bright. “I’d really like that.”
They stood there for a brief moment, the space between them easy and uncharged. Then the young man extended his hand. Jordi took it carefully, their grip brief but firm.
“Thank you,” the young man said. “Really.”
“You’re welcome,” Jordi replied.
The young man stepped back, blending again into the flow of the boulevard. He glanced over his shoulder once more, still smiling, before continuing on his way.
Jordi turned back toward Tobias.
Tobias stood a few steps ahead, arms crossed loosely, shifting his weight with visible impatience. When he caught Jordi’s eye, he raised an eyebrow. “Done?”
Jordi nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Tobias said dryly. “I thought you were about to start mentoring people on the street.”
“Not today,” Jordi replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
They resumed walking side by side toward the tram stop, the evening settling around them with quiet confidence. The boulevard stretched ahead, lit and steady, carrying them forward as it always did.
Chapter 10
Dusk had settled in by the time Jordi and Tobias reached the baths.
The light had softened into a deep, muted glow, the sky no longer bright but not yet dark, suspended in that quiet in-between that made the air feel heavier and calmer at the same time. Warmth still lingered, held close by the dense tropical vegetation that surrounded the mountain slopes. The path beneath their feet curved gently upward, leading them away from the boulevard and toward the natural terraces of water carved into the rock.
The baths lay not far from the neighborhood where Jordi’s hut stood.
They were built into the side of a high hill itself, a series of natural pools spread across different heights, connected by stone paths and shallow channels where water flowed slowly from one basin to the next. Thick tropical plants surrounded everything. Broad leaves, hanging vines and flowering shrubs softening the edges of stone and water alike. The hill seemed less shaped than collaborated with.
As they drew closer, the baths revealed themselves fully.
Soft lighting illuminated the pools, each basin glowing in a different hue. Some were washed in deep blues, others in warm amber or muted green, the colors reflecting off the water and the surrounding foliage. The effect was calm rather than dramatic, designed to guide the eye gently rather than overwhelm it.
Jordi slowed his pace slightly.
“It’s busier than I expected,” Tobias said, already taking it in.
He was right.
The baths were alive with movement. Large, muscular bodies moved through the water with slow confidence. Thick, heavy figures rested along the edges, water lapping against rounded bellies and sagging chests. Slender supporters hovered nearby, helping people in and out of the pools, passing towels, laughing softly, sharing space with ease.
It was unmistakably Eldros.
No one stared. No one hid. Bodies of weight and power were simply present, supported, celebrated without excess. The atmosphere was relaxed and social.
Jordi scanned the pools calmly.
“These ones will be crowded,” Tobias said, nodding toward a large central basin.
“Yes,” Jordi agreed. “But there’s another.”
He turned slightly, angling them away from the main cluster of baths.
“There’s a smaller pool,” he continued, “further along the side of the hill. It’s usually quieter.”
Tobias smiled. “Lead the way.”
They followed a narrower stone path that slipped between dense vegetation. Leaves brushed lightly against their arms as they passed, the sounds of the larger baths fading behind them. The lighting here was subtler, more spaced out, allowing shadows to settle naturally between the plants.
After a short walk, the path opened up.
The pool lay nestled against the rock face, partially hidden by thick greenery on three sides. Water glowed softly beneath a muted light, its surface barely disturbed. Steam rose faintly into the cooling air.
There was no one there.
“Perfect,” Tobias said quietly.
Jordi nodded. “I thought so.”
They set their bags down on a smooth stone ledge and began to undress.
There was no rush, no haste. Tobias helped Jordi with the strap of his tank top when the fabric resisted over his shoulders, tugging it free with practiced ease. Jordi returned the favor by steadying Tobias briefly as he stepped out of his pants, making sure he didn’t lose his balance on the stone.
Soon, they stood naked beside the pool.
Their bodies contrasted sharply in the dim light. Jordi’s was massive and dense, weight settled heavily into thick legs and a broad torso that moved with deliberate control. Tobias was large as well, but more mobile, muscle defined and responsive, his posture relaxed even as his size remained unmistakable.
They stepped into the water together.
The warmth wrapped around them immediately, easing muscles that had carried the day. Jordi lowered himself slowly, exhaling as the water rose over his thighs, his hips, his stomach, until he was submerged up to his chest. Tobias followed, settling beside him with a quiet sigh of relief.
They leaned back against the smooth stone edge.
For a while, neither spoke.
The water lapped gently against their bodies, the only sound besides the distant hum of voices from the larger baths below. Steam curled upward, catching the soft light and dissolving into the evening air.
Jordi felt his body sink into the warmth.
The tension he hadn’t noticed holding drained away gradually. His shoulders loosened. His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes briefly, fully present in the moment.
His thoughts drifted.
Unbidden, the image of the slim young man returned. The eagerness in his voice. The way his eyes had lit up when Jordi said yes, it was possible. Jordi wondered where he was now. Perhaps already preparing to leave, perhaps lingering somewhere on the island, soaking in as much of Eldros as he could before night fell.
He hoped he would come back.
“There he goes again,” Tobias said lightly.
Jordi opened his eyes. “What?”
“That look,” Tobias continued. “You get it when you’re thinking about someone else’s future.”
Jordi huffed softly. “You imagine things.”
“Maybe,” Tobias said. “But you do it a lot.”
Jordi didn’t deny it.
Before he could respond, both of them became aware of movement.
They looked up together.
The foliage at the edge of the clearing shifted, branches parting carefully. A massive figure emerged, moving slowly, deliberately. Even before he stepped fully into view, his presence was undeniable.
The man was enormous.
At least 180 kilograms of dense muscle, his body towering. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his chest thick and heavy, arms hanging like sculpted stone in an unnatural angle at his sides, pushed out by the size of his lats. Every movement carried his weight.
He was supported by two slim young men, one on each side.
They guided him gently, hands steady at his elbows and lower back, murmuring softly as they navigated the uneven stone. Their movements were practiced, confident, clearly familiar with the task.
Jordi’s breath caught.
Tobias straightened slightly in the water. Jordi felt it immediately.
Jealousy.
“It’s him,” Tobias said quietly.
Jordi nodded once. “Dylan.”
Some Black & White
Serdar Aktolga
Police officer Stjepan, Croatia
Syndrome Of Self by vishstudio