Cyro
Who is this joyful Marvin fellow, and how did he discover sexual healing?
The dusty particles swirled through shafts of afternoon sunlight as Tammy led me into the revitalized structure where her equine specimens were housed. Kalith had gone overboard in here, gilding the padlocks and adding numerous transparent panels for increased light entry.
“I love all the windows. It’s so much brighter in there,” Tammy said, tilting her face up to look. The sun rays bathed across her face, making her seem to glow. She was a stunning human. Not that I’d seen many humans. Even so, I had little doubt she was a magnificent example of her kind.
“Yes, Kalith has done a satisfactory job,” I nodded.
“It’s way better than just satisfactory, Cyro,” she teased.
“It is better than just satisfactory,” I allowed. She scrunched her face, then rolled her eyes.
I took a deep breath. The air carried complex organic compounds, and they were a warm greeting.
I recognized them easily now as manure, leather, and the distinct musk of the large Earth mammals themselves.
The scents seeped into my olfactory channels, alongside the increasingly potent perfume of Tammy herself.
It was a combination of what she called “vanilla shampoo” and her own unique biochemical signature.
That smell continued to affect my nervous system in ways I could not understand.
The mere proximity of the human Omega caused my senses to go haywire at times.
“Do you really think you can get them to breed?” Tammy sounded anxious, stopping and turning around to face me. She was chewing on her lower lip in that way I now found endearing, though at first I thought it was a strange, species-specific behavior that happened in times of high emotion.
I nodded, clutching the small case containing my pheromone devices.
“The environmental conditions appear adequate. Temperature and humidity levels fall within acceptable parameters for reproductive activity. I have observed them behaviorally and believe I know what is creating the physical divide between the two animals.”
“But it’s not just science,” she protested. “Horses are like people. You can’t force them to mate.”
“I am confident in my analysis and plan,” I protested.
Tammy’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “Well, that’s not quite enough, science boy.” She moved to a dusty shelf where an antiquated audio device sat. “We need some mood music.”
“Mood... music?” I repeated, the concept completely foreign to me. On my world, reproductive activities were scheduled according to biological cycles and chemical compatibility, not auditory stimulation.
Tammy pressed a button, and the device emitted a series of disruptive crackling sounds before a low, melodic human voice filled the stable.
The vocal patterns were unlike anything I’d heard on Earth thus far—deep, sensual, with rhythmic instrumental accompaniment that seemed designed to mimic biological functions.
“The one. The only. Marvin The Marvelous Gaye,” Tammy announced with satisfaction. “Classic baby-making music.”
I tilted my head, analyzing the sonic patterns.
It was at least less jarring than the horrid music she’d played in the house.
What was it again? Eighties makeover madness?
I shook my head. I understood sound input on a sonic level, applied to various experiments.
I understood the vibrations of it that some on my planet purely enjoyed. But it had no place in reproduction.
“You believe auditory stimulation will encourage reproductive compatibility between two equines who have previously displayed antagonistic behavior?”
She turned to me with those bright blue eyes that reminded me of the rare cerulean pools on my home world. “You obviously need a crash course in what the right kind of song will do in the bedroom. Duration,” she ticked off on her fingers, “speed, rhythm. All the good stuff.”
I processed this information, finding it both primitive and strangely intriguing. “Still, I do not believe healing sexually will happen, no matter how happy this Marvin human may be.”
Tammy laughed, the sound causing a pleasant ripple of warmth across my skin beneath my human disguise. “Just set up your alien love potion contraptions while I bring in the happy couple.”
I knelt and opened my case, revealing the six small devices I’d constructed from components salvaged from our ship combined with materials from Tammy’s kitchen.
Each was approximately three centimeters in diameter, with a specialized emission port designed to release synthesized pheromones calibrated specifically for Earth equines.
“These will release compounds that mimic the biochemical signals produced during peak fertility cycles,” I explained as I positioned the first device in a corner of the enclosure.
“I analyzed hair samples from both specimens and identified the specific chemical signatures their bodies produce when receptive to mating.”
“Uh-huh,” Tammy replied, clearly more focused on leading Mystery into the enclosure. The stallion’s muscles rippled beneath his mahogany coat as he tossed his head, nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar scents my devices were beginning to emit.
I placed the remaining units at strategic points throughout the space, calculating optimal air flow patterns for maximum dispersion.
By the time I’d finished, Tammy had brought in Sassafras as well, the mare immediately pinning her ears back and moving to the opposite end of the enclosure from Mystery.
“They still look like they want to kill each other,” Tammy observed, her optimism noticeably diminishing as she leaned against the fence. “Are you sure this will work?”
“The pheromonal influence requires approximately seven to ten minutes to overcome existing behavioral patterns,” I informed her, moving to stand beside her at the fence. “Observe their respiratory rates. The compounds are already entering their systems.”
We stood in silence as the Marvin Gaye human continued to vocalize about sexual healing.
The juxtaposition of primitive Earth music with advanced xenobiological technology struck me as oddly appropriate—a perfect representation of the strange fusion my life had become since crash-landing on this planet.
Gradually, subtle changes began to manifest in the horses’ behavior.
Mystery’s aggressive stance softened, his ears rotating forward rather than flattened against his head.
His neck, previously rigid with tension, developed a gentle arch that displayed his muscular structure to advantage.
My analytical mind recognized this as a classic reproductive display behavior, designed to showcase peak fitness to potential mates.
Across the enclosure, Sassafras had stopped pawing nervously at the ground. Her tail, which had been clamped tightly against her body, now raised slightly, her head lowering in what my research identified as a preliminary receptivity posture.
“Look!” Tammy whispered, her fingers wrapping around my forearm with surprising strength. “She’s not trying to kick him!”
I nodded, noting how Mystery took a tentative step toward the mare, his movement careful rather than aggressive. “The pheromone blend is successfully overriding their learned antagonistic responses and activating natural reproductive instincts.”
Sassafras remained still as Mystery approached, neither welcoming nor rejecting his advance.
The stallion extended his nose, nostrils flaring as he processed the chemical signals now flooding the enclosure.
Sassafras responded with a soft nickering sound that made Tammy’s grip tighten further on my arm.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, her excitement palpable. “That’s her happy sound. She never makes that around him.”
The horses moved closer together, their movements becoming synchronized in a dance of cautious interest. Mystery circled Sassafras slowly, his powerful neck arched even more prominently. Sassafras tracked his movement, her tail rising higher with each passing minute.
The transformation was remarkable—two creatures who had previously expressed nothing, but hostility now engaged in a carefully choreographed courtship ritual. Mystery gently nipped at Sassafras’s neck, and instead of kicking out at him, she stood perfectly still, allowing the contact.
“Your devices are working,” Tammy whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “They’re actually working.”
I felt an unfamiliar sensation in my chest—pride mixed with pleasure at her approval. “The pheromonal influence mimics optimal breeding conditions while suppressing stress hormones that would inhibit reproductive behavior.”
As if to confirm my explanation, Mystery suddenly reared up behind Sassafras, his forelegs coming to rest on her back. Sassafras’s stance widened to accommodate him, her body language now fully receptive.
“YES!” Tammy’s jubilant shout erupted beside me, startling both horses. Mystery quickly dismounted, but—crucially—did not retreat to the opposite side of the enclosure. Instead, he remained close to Sassafras, their bodies nearly touching as they both turned to look at the source of the outburst.
Tammy clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide above her fingers. “Sorry,” she mumbled through her hands, then turned to me with an expression of such pure joy that my respiratory system momentarily faltered. “They did it! I mean, they were doing it before I yelled like an idiot.”
“The initial mounting was successful,” I confirmed, analyzing the continuing behavior of the equines. “More importantly, they maintain proximity without aggression. The biochemical attraction has been established. They will likely complete the reproductive act once we leave them undisturbed.”
Tammy threw her arms around me with unexpected force, pressing her body against mine in what I recognized as a human “hug.” The contact sent waves of pleasant electrical impulses shivering up my spine, making my skin flush beneath my disguise.