The sky was blue-gray just then. Seagulls were doing an ungeometric dance in the air, trying to scavenge off pelicans that swooped into the water in bullet straight trajectories to swoop up fish in their ample bills. It was as though the denizens of the heavens were firing them off from divine sniper rifles, in order to contain fish populations.
Seagulls were notorious thieves, and the pelicans best bet was to swallow the fish immediately, if they didn't want to lose extremities to the seagulls. It rarely happened though. The thieves always got some fish.
The fisherfolk of Fata smelled something different in the air. They knew something strange was going to happen before spotting him. It was what some people call a sixth sense, dulled in most urbanites, but keen-edged in those that live more in the world and less in their heads. Well before they found him, they knew to a man that today was an extraordinary day.
They dragged him out of the water an half hour later, when it was still early Friday morning. He had been mauled by a caiman, and his left shoulder was in terrible shape, with the bone showing. It required at least several months to heal, if it were given proper medical attention. The good thing was that it didn't appear infected.
He looked fairly handsome. Bronze skin, coal black hair, strikingly blue eyes with large pupils. He wasn't particular impressively built, more like someone who can be called wiry. He was some five feet seven inches tall. Not particularly impressive on all counts, except for how handsome he was. Naturally, the women of Fata were whispering all about him.
I suppose if a handsome stranger shows up in your village you would whisper too, if you are a red-blooded, man-loving woman or man. But the women of Fata later discovered this stranger's most astonishing secret, which amplified the frenetic pace of these whispers' circulation.
It was Daria Hernandez who discovered it. The men had turned him over to the women for caring. Daria Hernandez was the village doctor. Tall for a woman in this village. Five Nine. One forty pounds. Voluptuous. Jet black hair. Dark brown eyes. A beautiful face that a movie watcher would compare with Paz Vega.
The men cleaned him up, and dressed him in coarse white cotton overalls and laid him out for whatever procedure she would give him for his shoulder. He was unconscious but breathing after they had pumped his lungs. They prayed that he didn't stay in a coma, but they wondered if it was too late for prayer. Nothing they had done had awoken him.
They'd found a bracelet on his right hand that simply said "Silesiar" - which didn't really mean anything. A nonsense word perhaps. More than likely though, it was probably a name, and so they started calling him Silesiar.
Daria Hernandez had a simple plan that morning. She was going to dress his shoulder properly, and then she would turn her attention to other patients with coughs, colds, fevers and those everyday ailments that we all almost decide not to report. She sent up another fervent prayer to the Madonna Maria that that old hypochondriac Mr. Vasquez expired in his sleep today.
It was unbecoming of a doctor to offer such prayers, but the old goat was pushing ninety-three, but it did nothing to lessen his lusty advances. Last time he had come for a general checkup, she found him buck naked in her office, asking that he be given a physical. She had sent her assistant Diego to do it, and Mr. Vasquez had been very displeased, and had let half the village know about how she had been unprofessional.
Please, Madonna Maria, if not for me, for all the other women in this village. Let it be painless. Maybe he could die while having some erotic fantasy, and could go out happy. Just take the randy old goat from us.
She focused on Silesiar for now. She pulled the overall down his shoulders, clumsy as the action was, for she needed access to his shoulder. It worked for a little, but she had iodine and alcohol running down the overalls and making a mess on her precious operating table. So she looked around with guilt, and prayed that the men had dressed him appropriately and preserved his modesty.
Then she pulled the overalls down to his waist, and that appeared okay, except that the patient didn't seem to like the folded overalls around his waist and kept squirming, even though in a coma. So she did what anyone would do, and tried pulling them a tad lower and arranging them around his waist so that the discomfort was minimal. It got caught under him, and instead of gently moving him around, she tried yanking the overalls down by grabbing what was stuck under him. It was abrupt and unexpected.
The overalls tore down the center, right around his waist, and snug as they were, they let something loose. Daria almost screamed in terror at first, because she thought there was a snake or an eel there. Then she realized what had happened.
Her frantic attempts to soothe his discomfort had torn the overalls at his loins, and his genitals had tumbled out. What looked like a sleeping snake was his penis. It was much darker than his skin, almost ebony, which was not surprising from his bronzed skin tone. It was soft, and flaccid, but was at least a foot in that state. The testicles could barely be contained in there either, each the size of an orange.
She gasped when she realized what had happened, and then felt some weird complex mix of emotions flush through her body. Guilt, embarrassment, and a vigorous surge of lust, which seemed to grow stronger, the longer his genitals were out in the open.
It was difficult to not look at the elephant in the room. A foot when it was flaccid, and probably not even slightly aroused. That was astonishing. Daria hadn't seen anything close to it. She didn't want to look, but her body wanted her to look. She wanted to do a lot more than look.
Good sense prevailed a moment later, and she remembered his shoulder. She knew she couldn't work if his cock was staring at her, so she used one of the arms of his overalls to cover his loins. She tore her eyes away from there and set about mending Silesiar's shoulder with as much tender loving care as she could.
When she was done cleaning the wound, she stitched it up and dressed it with as much gentleness as she could bring herself to muster in her state of arousal. After that, she decided that she needed to change his overalls because the torn overalls would give away what was only hers to know just then.
She suspected the men would not talk about his member, because they wouldn't want their women taking an interest. So she was the only woman who knew of Silesiar's genetic miracle. She preferred keeping it that way.
There didn't appear to be an infection. She had doused the wound with iodine. Then she set about testing the bone joint. There was no indication from the sleeping man that he was feeling anything, but still, there may have been a hairline fracture. The caiman had gouged out a chunk of flesh, all the way to the bone.