I have met many different types of creatures in my journeys through both the forests of the Wildlands and the alleyways of the City of Anteronia. I have learned about cultures and species that I could scarcely imagine, but in recent encounters, I have found that the most fascinating beings are the ones who are like me--the ones who go against the trends of greater society find their own identity.

Eshere and I met one such being after leaving the safety of Sis behind. The old Mimic house had been a perfect means to hide out while the Judicators searched for me. However, we both agreed that we needed to leave the safety behind to fulfill both of our goals. What we didn't expect was to find our next subject in a bakery.

Back in small outposts like Bergburg, there were small baking shops, where bread rose in large brick ovens. Bread exists as a staple of the traveler. It is just a filling food with hardly any taste--just like most foods available back in the caverns of the Dragon's Heir tribe: nutritious, economical, bland.

The shop nestled between two other businesses on the street, with large glass windows that offered a brightness that
would certainly be inviting to diurnal races. Luckily, I already had the hood up over my head to keep the headache-inducing sun from my eyes as we both passed through the doorway.

Yet, there was none of that here. Once we passed through the threshold, the light within was not overbearing at all. The walls were of a smooth material--not of brick nor stone nor wood. The color of the paint gave the space an earthy feel, which provided a strange sense of nostalgia.

The floor was soft and warm beneath my feet, nothing like the cold stone of the cobbled streets outside, and seats wrapped around the corner, showing off a much broader array of styles of comfort than any tavern I had encountered in my travels.

What was most remarkable, however, was the display right in front. Cakes and pastries lined up behind a glass case, each of them looking more like a work of art than food, yet the scents that wafted up from the display and from the back gave away the edible nature of these confections.

I pressed my face up against the glass, wondering just what these treats were, but even as I admired them, I noticed the design of this room was
quite the deceptive trap, and I had fallen right for it. Whoever designed this space wanted me enraptured by delights I could not afford.

I had been staring for longer than I probably should have because it took Eshere nudging me from her hidden perch behind my hood to tell me  I had been caught. With a quick refocus, I immediately saw the expressionless face behind the glass staring right at me.

I yelped and fell back, squshing the slime hiding within my outfit.

The construct stood up from behind the counter, and, I must admit, of all the creations in t his place, he was the most fascinating, indeed.

Whoever designed the mannequin had an eye for quality in both mechanics and aesthetics. Because, despite having no discernable features, the wooden creation was made with so many articulated joints that he could show off his emotion only by his posture. This articulation became quite evident when he reached down to hold out his hand, rolling out each finger individually, a joint for each joint in a similar human body. I grabbed onto it, running my fingers along with the balls and sockets, my tail wagging like an apprentice
seeing a master trap for the first time.

"My, my, darling, do you like what you see?" he asked me, though he had no mouth from which to speak.

"Yep yep!" I shouted excitedly, scrambling to my feet, yet I didn't let go. "Who you, what you? How you? Why you?"

The mannequin brought his other hand up to where his lips would have been and actually stifled a giggle. "You know, I get that quite often, little darling. My name's Baker, and I am at your service. What sort of sweet treat may I interest you in?"

"Tik Tik no know," I admitted. "From far away. Never see food like this."

"Well, well, then. You're just the perfect subject for me to try out some of my newest confections.
Have a seat over there, and I'll whip you up something nice and tasty. How's that sound?"

Eshere coughed into my ear, which reminded me of our purpose. "Oh, wait, Mister Baker! Tik Tik looking to learn things. Look for girl. Pink hair, frilly dress. You know?"

"I might," the mannequin said, tapping his fingers on his hip. He scratched his chin, glancing upwards. "Hm... yes, I might, indeed. But, I'  can't just give away secrets for free, now can I?"

"We really need know! Please, Eshere and Tik Tik will trade!"

"Eshere?" Baker asked, tilting his head and crossing his hands over his chest.

From underneath my clothes, green slime oozed out, plopping onto the floor and
forming into Eshere's humanoid form. In her hand, she held her notebook, and she gave Baker a quick bow. "How do you do? I am Eshere. I am Tik Tik's scribe."

"Oooh, are you writers!?" He clapped his hands together. "How wonderful! I require some press, darlings!"

"Tik Tik can help Baker many ways. Baker help Tik Tik many ways?"

Baker placed his hand upon his apron-covered chest, shivering from head to toe. "Oh, my, well, if you can hold up to your end of things, I'd be happy to just gab away for you. Now, let's begin." 

Baker passed the glass cases and made his way to a big metal machine in the back. He pulled a lever, holding a small cup underneath of it. Steam rose up from the nozzle, billowing out around him while he shook the mug underneath. I sat up from my seat, grabbing the back of the chair and watching with wide eyes. I had never actually seen cooks at taverns working their craft before. Were these devices normal? I've seen such things in wizards' laboratories and alchemists' lairs. How strange it is, then, that they'd be so similar.

Baker sauntered over, carrying two cups upon tiny saucers. He placed them in front of each of us. "Enjoy, darlings. I've been working with these beans imported from the Cafe Nymph of the Southern Islands. I want to see how the less discerning palate would enjoy them.
"What coffee?" I asked.
"Simple. You take a few beans, roast them, grind them up, and pour hot water through it. It's bitter, but there are people in this town who need it daily, or they just can't function. I aim to make their mornings a little more exciting with this new mixture, though. Go ahead, darling, enjoy the tastes and the sights!"
I lifted the small drink and gasped when I saw the design floating on the top. "Oh, a heart!" I said, poking my claw at the white coloring. The swirls broke the heart apart the moment my finger touched it. I brought my nail up to my mouth, giving it a tentative lick.

 "Oooh, Tik Tik know this taste!" I said, bringing the hot drink up. I lapped at it.
"Ah!"
I peek one eye at Baker, who flinched at my tasting. "Something wrong?"
"N... no... I just didn't think you'd take that hot drink so well. You're supposed to let it rest a little, enjoy it. Sip it."
"It really can't be that hot," Eshere said, bringing her own cup up to her lips. She took a quick sip, sighing as brown liquid swirled around inside of her. "Do I detect a bit of milk in this drink? I do love milk. Though, I usually take it straight from the source."
"Yes, yes, darling!" Baker said, clapping his hands together. "The sweetness of the milk compliments the bitterness of the coffee. Plus, I've found myself dabbling in a bit of decoration with the cream and froth. It's so different from the brown underneath and so easy to shape, once you know how. It seems a shame to let it just sit there and not turn it into art.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Eshere said, waving her hand towards the display cases. "But, doesn't it defeat the purpose of food if you dress it up? People are just going to eat it. Why make it look pretty beforehand if it doesn't stay that way forever?"

 "Eshere," I said, lowering my cup. "You need know that form work well with function. Traps, art, food, sex. If just make work with no art, then it no good. All things we see need look nice, or no one want look at it."
"All of the senses are necessary to make a complete meal, darling," Baker said. Perhaps, I can show you some of the more practical things in the back, if you're not so convinced by aesthetics?"
"Sounds good idea!" I said. "Tik Tik can try out some other things while Eshere learn more about Baker's work. Tik Tik want try one of these!" I hopped up and pointed to a particularly plump-looking cupcake.
"An excellent choice, Darling!" Baker said, handing it to me. "Come with me, Eshere. There's a whole world behind the scenes that I"m sure you'll just love!"

When Baker offered to show us around his kitchen, Tik Tik insisted that I go in there alone. Even though I do not usually consume most of the materials that are offered here, the inclusion of milk in the coffee intrigued me. How much bodily fluids do other beings partake in? Am I not so strange, after all?

 Baker approached the pantry and hummed, gathering up various ingredients. "Oh, Eshere, darling. Why don't you be a dear and help me with some of these? It's always so busy, being the only two hands in here. Just open up that freezer door, and I'll tell you what I need."

I slid over towards the large metal container. When I pulled it open, a blast of cold air sent me shivering back.
I bumped up against the wooden body of Baker, who dropped his jars and cups filled with different spices. "Ooo, darling, are you alright?" His fingers wrapped around my arms, holding me tightly.
"Your materials... I'm sorry." I slipped out of his grasp, darting this way and that to pick up the various dropped ingredients. "Oh, this is such a mess. I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't worry about it, darling," he said, waving his hand and stepping over my form. He tiptoed over towards the freezer and leaned in, pulling out a small box." At least I wasn't carrying anything too fragile."
When I arose, suspending the containers in my protoplasm, I paused, catching the mannequin pinching his fingers together. Some residue of my being had stuck to them, and Baker rolled the slime between his digits. "You know, I should have asked you this before, but if you're going to be in my kitchen, I hope whatever you're bringing in here is clean."

 "Well, I would hope that it is," I admitted, holding my arm out. A can flowed out from within me and out the palm of my hand, slopping onto the countertop. "After all, my slime tends to get everywhere when I feed. I haven't noticed any issues inside Tik Tik yet."

"Inside...? Oh my... darling..." He placed his free hand upon his cheek. "Are you some kind of lewd thing?"
I froze, a bottle catching itself in my throat. I coughed, striking my chest until the thing shot out, sticking to the counter in a jiggling shell of slime. I spun around, trying to dissuade this line of thinking. "Oh, Mr. Baker, are we really going to put all of life's experience down to simple sexual gratification? Can't we be much more?"

"In this town, Darling?" he said, strolling over towards the back door. He crossed his arm over his chest and cradled his elbow. Leaning against the doorway, he stared out into the dingy alleyway beyond. "It's not that simple. Sex is just everywhere, and everything is all about it. You'd know if you were from here."
"I am. Anteronia born and bred, I guess you could say... more like I just spawned from some other kinda protoslime and just... started being, you know?"
"For a writer, you have a strange way with words, darling."
"H... hey, that's not fair. Sure, I may not have been born a writer, but I like it. Tik Tik has told so many great stories and learned so much about people and love and all that. I mean, we can't all be built for baking like you."
"Darling..." Baker said, tilting his head toward me. "You think this is what I was built for? No. This is a new job for me, but it's one I love, and if I make mistakes along the way and get a little messy, then so be it. Now then, shall we try this experiment?"
"What experiment are you-?"
Before I could ask, he brought his slime-coated finger up to where his mouth would be. He spread the glistening green goop over his wooden frame. His digit lingered there a moment, but he pulled it back, nodding his head. "Fascinating..."
"What do you mean?" I asked him, but he simply walked past me, standing on the tips of his toes to grab a few bowls from his cabinets.
"No worries, darling. I'm letting that formulate in the
back of my mind. Now, you really must pay attention to my process if you're going to write the best parts about me. So watch and learn."
Various ingredients lined the counter: powders and sticks and liquids. Even through their containers, I can sense the essence of the foodstuff within, and a strange kinship seems to exist between them and me, though I did not conceive of the consequences at the time. Baker picked up two roundish white objects and smacked them upon the side of his bowl. The things both split open, and a clear slime oozes out from within. I gasped upon the sight when yellow cores fell through and plopped into the receptacle.
Baker just kept on humming, taking a wired whisk device and beating the two tiny slimes together into a yellow mix. Desperate to know the full process, I kept my mouth shut the entire time I saw it.
I would describe every detail of his process, but I could not decipher the exact nuances then and there. He broke the core and the slime and covered it up with powders of various shades of white and brown. The only one I recognized was the milk that he had in a small tin, not straight from the source. How odd it is that people can preserve the flavor, yet he assured me that it tasted just as sweet. 
I was inclined to disagree from taste I had earlier, though. Milk is meant to be warm and from the body. There is nothing quite like it.
During the whole process, he kept his focus on the work, but I often glanced over towards the other shelled objects-the slimes trapped in some kind of cage. They took most of my attention, and I must admit I may have forgotten to listen to what he had to say. So, when he spoke up, and I didn't answer, that's when he stopped.
"Something wrong, darling?"
I realized then that I had grabbed onto the counter and pressed my face against the bowl. I pulled away, rubbing my eyes. "W... what are those things?" I indicated to the carton of shells, "And why did... why did you kill them?"
"Kill...? What?" He looked down to the bowl, dropping his whisk and clapping his cheeks. "No, no, no! Darling, darling, those are just eggs!"
"Eggs... eggs..." I pondered where I had heard that term before, only to remember. "Kobold eggs!?"
"What? N-no, darling! Not... wait..." He tapped his chin. "Kobolds... lay eggs...?"
"Yeah. It's where baby kobolds come from. I read about it in Tik Tik's stories. Did you... did you kill baby kobolds? Are... are baby kobolds slimes? I... I'm so confused."
"Oh, my, you are new at this living thing, aren't you, darling? You see, eggs come from the market! You buy them and then use them as a bonding agent for your bakes. They are nice and slimy and all the flour sticks together. It's oh so wonderful."
"I'll be the judge of that!" I said, swiping one of the uncracked eggs from the bunch and slinking out the door. "We'll see just what Tik Tik has to say about this."

"Tik Tik," I cried, rushing out of the kitchen. Panting, I held up the egg in front of the kobold. "Tik Tik, please tell me this isn't a thing that comes out of you!"
Tik Tik pulled her book down, frowning. "What that?" she asked, inspecting the small shelled ovoid.
"It's an egg, darling," Baker said, sauntering out of the room. "Eshere here seems to believe that a thing like that comes out of a lady like you. I know, ridiculous, right?"
"This isn't kobold egg," Tik Tik said, placing her book aside.
"There, you see?" Baker said, snatching the egg from my grasp. "There's no way that this could come out a kobold. It comes from the market and... wait..." He spun the egg between his fingers. "You mean... kobolds make their own kind of eggs?
"And kobolds are slime creatures before they gain their scales!?"
"Have I been killing people for my art!?" Baker gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry, little one... but you're so delicious!" 

Tik Tik slammed her book against the table. "Listen!" she yapped. "Egg no make baby if no sperm. Need sexy time make egg that grow to kobold! Or, whatever make that egg! Boy and girl, see?" She held up one hand, making a ring with her finger. With the other, she stuck her finger in. "Like that."
"Sex makes babies!?" Baker gasped, clapping one hand over his mouth. "Does that mean, Lady Aldevan... she wanted a baby?"
Tik Tik sighed, slumping down. "No, no, not all time... Baker not know a lot about sex?"
"Well, I'm a construct, I'm programmed with an understanding of the world only as much as my makers want me to have. I'm not ignorant in the ways of sex. I am Anteronian, after all."
"Make construct for sex and baking?"
"Oh, well," he waved, "No-No, it's just I decided to get into baking and- hey wait!" He pointed at Tik Tik, taking on a wide stance and clenching his other fist. "If this isn't a kobold egg, then that means you DO lay them!"
"That's right!" I added, slipping in front of Tik Tik. "I've known you for so long, and I've never seen you lay an egg!
Tik Tik giggled at that. "Oh, easy reason for that. Kobold only make egg when lots sexy time. Body need think man putting seed in Tik Tik to lay egg."
"Wait... so our sex wasn't enough?" I asked. "That's..."
"Feel bad?" Tik Tik said. "Sorry hear that. We friends. Tik Tik no think Eshere want breed her."
"Tik Tik," Baker said, stepping up beside me. He placed a hand upon his chest and bowed. "I would very much love to see one of these kobold eggs I keep hearing about. If there's any way I can get my hands on one of them, I would be most grateful, and I will do whatever I can to help you in your quest."
"Well, Tik Tik can't just make, she need-"
Baker scooped her up, dropping the egg onto the carpeted floor beside him. He pulled Tik Tik up to an embrace, pressing his blank, slime-coated mouth to her snout.
Tik Tik squealed, wrapping her tail, arms, and legs around him. Her tongue rolled out, licking over the wooden
mouth area to get a little taste of me herself.
The kobold growled, flicking the slime back into her mouth, her eyes going half-lidded. Tik Tik hid her desire to check out this construct well, but she was a trapmaker by trade, and her instincts to enjoy well-constructed mechanisms translated here in a way she had never considered before.
"Tik Tik might make egg," she growled. "If Baker show Tik Tik what make him Tik."
"I'd love that, darling," he whispered to her. "But what about my bakery?"
Tik Tik flicked her wrist, and a spectral hand grabbed the sign, flipping it from "open" to "closed."
"Today," Tik Tik began, "Baker work on different kind of bake."
Baker carried Tik Tik away from the prying eyes of the quiet street beyond, but that left me by myself with that egg. I leaned in, poking it with my finger. It wobbled a moment, but then stopped. There was no response. I leaned in and whispered, "Are you a living slime?"
No response.
How strange that slime would be encased in such a hard shell. It's not something I could digest, at least, not that I thought I could. I picked up the small thing, noticing only the slightest of cracks on its exterior from where it landed. I shrugged and opened my mouth wide, tossing the object in.
The egg sunk into my jelly, floating around for a bit. My protoplasm gurgled, which sent my core spinning. Nope, can't digest that.
I scrunched up, shivering and condensing my being around it until the pressure of the slime around it is enough to crack the egg open. The oozy substance floated out among my green plasm, spreading and dissolving into my being. And that is when I tasted it.
"Aaaah!" I couldn't help myself. I spun around on the floor, clapping my cheeks. "This is... this is wonderful! I've never tasted something so amazing. If only I knew before I could break open something and find delicious juices before! What other treasures exist out there in the culinary field? What other delights exist behind seemingly impenetrable structures!?"
I stopped my happy squealing, realizing that I must get to writing down all of my thoughts on the matter. Whatever eggs may be, I know one thing for sure. They are delicious! This whole time, I had been contenting myself to eat strictly for survival. I had never dreamed that there could be more out there--that flavors exist outside what is there to live. Is this truly the promise of Anteronia, I wonder?
He wouldn't mind, then, if I sampled another one of his creations. The counter is right there, after all, and my slime can easily slip in under the case and take a taste. I'll
choose the small thing labeled "cupcake," and see just what that is like...
Is this made from eggs and powder? Coffee is one thing. I can understand the heating of beans flavor the water, but to transmute something from simple grounded up materials into a fluffy form that dissolves to the touch... is this what Tik Tik talks about when she speaks of magic?
I must learn more. To that end, I cannot just have one... 

Trapmaker--that's the title I've held back in the Dragon's Heir tribe. That position allowed me to become intimate with the workings of the mechanical marvels that we kobolds have innovated to protect our home. So great was our mastery, that we eventually learned that there was more to utility than knowing how a lever works or understanding what pointy sticks dealt the best damage to adventurers. We were called crafts-makers, but the truth of the matter is that we are artists.

After all, we needed to paint the walls to make them appear natural. The canniest of adventurers can spot a pit trap, but it requires a master's stroke to hide the second pit trap with the proper paint and rocky texture. So, when I encounter a master's work, I know it immediately.

Baker is truly a master's work. Constructs are spoken about in some of the writings I have read, but I had never seen one so beautifully crafted. When he lifted me in his arms, it was so much like when others have, yet with the added benefit of that wood finish, the joints clicking ever-so-slightly, and the smooth, polished surface, free of the bumps and imperfections that adorn even the most beautiful of organic beings.

Baker took me to the back and up the stairs. Along the way, the finely-articulated fingers stroked down and up along my tail, and his smooth, featureless face rubbed up against my neck. Despite the lack of lips, the tingle of Eshere's slime does enough to emulate little kisses along my scales.

Before I knew it, we were in a bedroom, unused and straightforward. Yet immaculate. "You clean well," I sighed, placed upon the bed with tender care.

"I want to make sure my guests are well-accommodated," he responded, running hands up along my body and pushing me down by the shoulders. "Now, then, darling. Let me show you my other skills."

His fingers brushed along my cheek and down along my neck. He lingers there a moment before continuing downwards. He stood up his hand like a tiny man, and he walked it down my form, doing dainty little kicks and skips on its journey downward. It was a lot to hold back from that, but I couldn't help myself. I laughed. "What doing?"

"Enjoying a little artistry," he said. "Mistress never cared to-" he stopped. "Nevermind, here..." He kept the hand's dance
down along my body, letting the wrist twirl around thoroughly, marking its way to my pelvis. There, it relaxes, crossing one finger over the other, and then wiping the 'sweat' from its brow.

"That it?" I asked, cooing at him. "Seem like journey not done yet."

"The trip has been long, but the little guy's finally gotten to his destination," Baker scooted down, getting onto his knees at the foot of the bed. There, he had his other hand play up and down along my leg lazily. His traveling fingers brushed downward, making their way to my slit. "So, if you are to make an egg... where does it come from? From here?"

I closed my eyes, ready to give him a lesson, even as he teased me. "Y... yes, good Baker," I sighed. "It from there. But... how know?"

"Function and artistry, darling," Baker said, pushing himself back up. He crawled up onto the bed, his body contorting at every joint until his face and one hand were up at my own face, and his other hand remained between my legs, twisting so his fingers lined up with the shape of my slit.

He brushes his fingers over my snout, teasing up my gums and over my teeth "The mouth... one can use for kisses, but it is for food and speaking." He then traveled back up along my jaw. The ears, they are for listening, yet they can hear the sizzling and boiling on the stove." The fingers went down again, this time, tracing the heart-shape of my snout. "The nose can smell for danger, yet it enhances the flavor of food. The little hole in the back..." his fingers stroke me down from my slit and I squeak. "Well, that's there in humans for waste disposal, but people can use it for fun... but up here..." he moved his fingers back up to my sex, wiggling them, teasing the lips open. "There must be something it's used for, if not just for fun."

I blow out a sigh through my nose, my whole body shaking. There I was, thinking I could analyze this construct's build, yet I was the one in Baker's hands--the one being investigated by a curious creature.

"So... smart," I sighed. "How?"

"You really want to talk now, darling?" he asked. "I think it's time we try to get what I brought you here for."

I rolled my eyes. "Eggs? No easy. Must be really fun sexy. Must think have man inside me."

"Is that so...?" he asked. "How about this?" he asked, pushing those fingers, three of them into my slit. His human-sized hand stretched me out, and that was even before the thumb ran up along the lips, finding my clitoris.

I slid my tongue along the roof of my mouth, letting the huff of delight escape from my throat. Baker is gentle, slow, methodical. There's a purpose to his ministrations, and yet, he gives me the slow, deliberate touch of a lover at the same time. "F... form... and... and function..." I sigh. "So wonderful..."

"If only," he whispers, twisting his fingers horizontally, spreading me out further. "Will you make for me what I desire, Tik Tik?" He curled his fingers upwards, and I groaned, that stuffing much more pronounced without magic to mitigate the size.

"I... It might take awhile..." I responded, truthfully. It had been a while since my last laying, and deep down, I know that something was brewing deep within me. My heightened need for laying an egg was there, yet nature could only work so fast.

That's when the little voice in my head piped up, whispering a sweet, tantalizing promise to my ear. "I can give him and you exactly what you want..."

"N... no..." I gasped.

He stopped, pulling his hand out and resting it upon my thighs. "I'm sorry... did I?"

Gasping, I pushed myself up. "No-no, Baker great!" Tik Tik said. "But... dangerous," I replied.

"I'm... not sure I follow, Darling."

"Come on..." the diabolic voice said, nipping at the back of my consciousness. "I don't have any power over you, but I can make things more interesting while I'm still here..." 

Baker paused, hanging over me with his fingers frozen upon my form. "Is something the matter, Darling? You seem distracted."

Of course, I was distracted. Ever since I had defeated the dark sorceress Estrasa, I've had a demon stuck in my head. Sometimes, she'd take over for me--make me say things I didn't want to say or initiate an inopportune moment at the worst possible time.

"Come on," Zelb said. As she spoke, I felt her tongue ride up and down along my horn. "It's been so boring just forcing you to do things. Really, can't we just work together? I've already told you that I'm in the business of granting wishes. As long as it has something to do with your body, I should be able to make it happen."

"Why?" I asked her, the thought streaming from my mind. "Tik Tik okay, just... enjoying," I lied to Baker. "Keep going."

The mannequin nodded, his hands playing along my body. He lowered his head, placing slimy kisses upon my belly.

"Look at him," Zelb said, resting her weight upon my head. "He's working so hard for you, girl. But your dumb biology means it'll take oh so long to make what he wants."

"Why do you want it?" I squeaked in my draconic language.

"Ah! I don't understand you, Darling. That isn't a culinary language, I'm afraid. Though, I think I must have done something right, Darling. Is this your spot?" He curled his fingers up inside of me, and by all that's beautiful, he really did find it.

"It would be so disappointing to have him go through all this trouble and not getting anything in return. After all, you need him to find that mystery girl of yours. So, come on... just say the word, and I'll let you have exactly what you want.

"F... Fine!" I yelped, "Give it!"

"Oh my," Baker said. He lifted himself off of the bed with a graceful twirl, standing tall over me. "If you're that eager for the next part, Darling, I won't hesitate. Besides, you need a male's touch to make an egg, right? There's only one thing for that, isn't there?"

He ran his hands down over his own body, pinching at his hip. There, imperceptible except by the most masterful of eyes, was a tiny switch. Once flipped, a nearly invisible hatch opened up between his legs. And from within that hatch sprung forth a long, segmented member, rigid and ready.

"Hot damn!" Zelb said, slapping my butt. "That's a real surprise there, isn't it?"

I crawled up to my knees, the nature of my pact forgotten while I held onto the shaft. "Amazing!" I chirped. "Masterwork. How made, who made?"

"Oh, Darling, are you looking for my story now?" he said, scratching behind my horns. I chirped and nuzzled against him. "Well, if you can listen while we work, I'll be happy to tell you."

Though I call myself "Baker," that was not my original name. Truth be told, Darling, I never really had a name when I was first made. As you can see, I wasn't built for any sort of cuisine. Like other constructs, I was crafted by the construct smiths of Anteronia, and while they are renowned for their life-like creations, there is a rather specific, perhaps crude, reason for our superhuman articulation.

The smiths who made me imbued me with magical knowledge making me as competent as I was needed for the jobs I was to do. My prime directive was knowledge of beauty--artistry and fashion, most specifically. I was made for the Aldevan family, the forefront creators of style and costuming in the region.

All this, I knew the moment my senses first activated. What I wasn't so sure about was why the old man who stood before me gave me that first initial hug. Perhaps it was because he wanted to test the skills he gave me, but it felt so beautiful to have a
warm body up against my own, Darling. I wrapped my arms around his quivering form, patting his back to comfort him.

I only ever saw the old man that moment, for right after, the agents of my mistress came to get me. I explored the city, already a place I knew by my programming, but when I saw it for the first time when I heard the crowds, and when I felt the warmth of the sun, it was a totally different experience than anything I had come to understand. I understood those things, Darling, but I didn't 'know' them. If you can get what I mean.

Immediately, I was thrust onto the wardrobes of the Aldevan estate, joining thin bodies who eyed me with disdain. Even as I slipped into the suits and dresses given to me by the director, I knew they hated me. They felt I was there to take away their own jobs.

The crowd clamored to see me pose in various outfits, all of them designed by the family and their associates, but the stage was too hot, and the people didn't see me, they only saw the outfits that I wore.

Once the show was over, and I had removed myself from the last of the outfits, that's when I first met my mistress. She's a wonderful woman, beautiful and wise. She had seen many summers, but all of them had only heightened her beauty. I didn't know how to describe the feelings I felt then, but when she took my hand, I followed, and I obeyed.

Lady Aldevan led me away from the dressing room I had come to know as my only home and introduced me to the long and winding corridors of the magically-enchanted estate. The deeper we got, the fewer servants we saw. None of them even acknowledged their mistress. She was like me, a nonentity, a shadow upon the wall.

Finally, she extinguished her own light, leaving the two of us in some forgotten corner in the dark, yet my magical sight allowed me to see every detail of her body. How she kept herself in working order, despite her age, how that dress clung to her curves. How the fabric slid down over her flesh, leaving her exposed before me. The bumps and creases that made up her anatomy, all of it was there for me to experience.

I sensed other things too, of course, I did. To do my job, I never needed to detect anything. I could have just been an animate coat rack, sent off to the catwalk with not a thought in my soul. But I was allowed to feel the soft fabric on my body. I could smell the perfumes the other models wore, and I could appreciate them.

There in that corridor, it was different. I heard the soft broken breaths, the shuffling of my mistress's feet, and the gentle utterances, waiting, wanting.

Her perfume was floral and sweet, yet her natural scent wafted up beyond it, baking through the cover--something changed within her. Something was different than the cool and confident woman that ran the fashion shows.

"Touch me," she spoke, finally in that hushed whisper.

I placed my hand upon her cheeks Her skin had a softness, yet there was more--slight hairs imperceptible even to my eye, the cracks of age hidden under the perfume, the nuzzling that she gave against my palms, closing her eyes.

She leaned in against my face, her lips parted, words wafting to me through silent commands. Where she told me to touch, I touched, but I did so much more. I listened to her, I smelled her scent, I watched her reactions. They were terrific, and they were also confusing.

She grabbed onto my cheeks, staring into my eyes. "Now, kiss me," she said, but before I could even ask, she brought her lips to my faceless head.

Another sense exploded into me from that point forward! I grabbed onto her, brushing my face against her skin. I tasted the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her perfume, and I wondered what this new experience really was.

Her cries flew through the darkness, echoing down for who knew how long. But it wasn't the only thing carrying through. No... I stopped, face buried between her legs when something else wafted up through to me. I let go of her, wandering through the corridor, driven by a purpose far beyond that of my programming.

I didn't head the cries of my mistress, disobeying for the first time in my existence to satisfy another new concept: curiosity.

I wandered towards the source for the longest time, not letting any barrier block my way. 

I was stunned, and yet, even with my sudden appearance, they did not stop. There it was, before me, the very first experience I had ever had in a kitchen.

I approached one of the stations and observed the whisking. I admired the bread rising, I marveled at it all.

The final batch finished baking, and while the treats sat upon a sheet to cool, I reached out for it, only to hear my mistress's voice once more.

"Fools! You could have told me that damn doll was in here!"

"B-but mistress, you told us to ignore-"

"Fired! You're fired!" She grabbed my arm, yanking it away from the tray. When she
stared into me, she no longer had that look of love. "As for you... what use are you if you won't do what you're told?"

Then, I was tossed aside, left forgotten in a closet. Abandoned by my mistress, I had no choice but to endure existence locked away.

Have you ever been so deprived of senses? It is... it gave birth to another new emotion, one I had never thought possible. Sadness, fear... madness, even?

I was nothing but a doll for my mistress. She had abandoned me. I had been less than nothing to her, and all because I had become something more than I was intended to be.

I can't tell you how long I was in there, Darling, stuck in that depressing, senseless prison. But what I can tell you is the elation I felt when the first light, the early warmth, went over me, and on the other side was my mistress. No... not that mistress, but the other Mistress Aldevan. I could never forget the warmth in her smile, and I will not soon forget what she held in her hand. "It's a muffin," she said. "From the kitchen."

I took the muffin, squeezing its crumbly form between my fingers. I pressed my face against it, smelling that intoxicating scent that drove me to disobey, and finally, I crushed it against my face, and from that, I had my first taste of confection perfection.

"You really love that, don't you?" she asked. "Come on... mother doesn't look down here for any of her forgotten toys." Her smile wavered when she said that, but she soon brought it back. "Here... take these," she shoved a bag of gold into my hand. "Get out of here... and make yourself a kitchen.

"Mistress, this doll must obey."

"No," she said, clasping my hands. "Make your own choice. You are no longer a doll.... What are you?"

"I want to make things like this... this beautiful creation."

"Well, they call people like that 'bakers.'"

"So... I am... I am Baker!" 

The whole time that Baker was telling me his story, he was acting out his actions and his emotions upon my body. He is a creation of mixed feelings, as his disdain for being told he was for sex clashed with his skill with it. His mechanical phallus buried itself into me, its springs pistoning into my womb! My little body stretched out, my eyes rolling back, my toes curling, my stomach bulging from the repetitive thrusting going on within me.

Each touch, each slap, was enough to convince my body that I was deep into the breeding pits at home, presenting myself before the most virile and gifted of kobolds in my tribe.

And yet, while he prepared my body to make that egg for him, I knew I could never develop it on my own. And I saw the means to the end staring at me from the other side--that demonic form with a smile wide and teeth sharp. From between Zelb's legs, there emerged a long, throbbing phallus, coated in ichor and pulsing with power.

Zelb approached us, but Baker had no idea. She ran her fingers over my horns, laughing sadistically into my ear. "And now, the pact will be sealed," she cooed, thrusting forward, her own cock joining Baker's.

My eyes rolled back, and I screamed, feeling the energy fill my body, the laughter rolling out like an earthquake through my very soul.

I collapsed onto the bed, laying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, arms and legs outstretched, body drenched in desire.

"Are you alright, Darling?" Baker asked, rubbing my head, but I grit my teeth, nodding, my toes grabbing the bedding. "Here comes egg!"

"What? Already? My, my, you are fast! W... what do I do, Darling?"

I could not answer him, for the feeling of having that egg from within my womb at an accelerated speed was quite a strange sensation. Pain flared up as my womb worked in developing the shell, and what would take a whole cycle was happening in minutes.

My belly showed the seeds of this labor, swelling out larger than before. Never was an egg this large within me. I've seen mothers-to-be who swell to strange sizes, unable to move. The only other times I had ever developed an egg, it was small, lumpy, misshapen, and it never was at the full gestation.

The matriarchs would look upon my creations and shake their heads in shame. "Tik Tik will never be a mother," one would say, "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Tik Tik's intelligence is far too uncommon to let the bloodline responsible for it to end with her."

I did not mourn my inability to be a mother. I only cared about making my traps. Those were my children, not new kobolds. I would help the tribe in other ways--ways that provided immediate and visible results.

The egg dropped. I rolled my eyes back, my tongue hanging out. I could see myself laying there as if I didn't' have any control of my body. In fact, I was floating beside myself, my vision guided by another's hand towards the quivering slit between my legs.

There I was, open wide for Baker, and myself, to observe. Without her saying anything, I knew this boon was the work of my demonic trespasser. Her breath hit the back of my neck, becoming heavier and heavier.

Soon, the slightly lumpy, purple-striped black shell breeched. My slit puckered and quivered around it, my hands moving down over my cheeks and down my body.  I squealed out in rapturous joy, soon collapsing as the most substantial part exited me, letting the rest plop down on the floor in a mess of slime and fluid.

"Congratulations," Zelb says in a hoarse chuckle. "You've made yourself a beautiful egg. How does it feel?"

Immediately, my mind returned to my body, and I gasped, sitting up, sweat staining the sheets.

"Oh my, Darling. Are you alright?"

How could I tell him the extent of that existential journey? I had no idea what to say for myself, either. "Never done egg big like this before," I said. "Tik Tik not sure Baker can use."

Baker tilted his head. "There's no actual father for this thing. I mean, I don't even make cream come out of this thing," He flicks his mechanized member, letting it thump dully.

"Yeah," Zelb said, kissing at my neck. "What's the matter, Tik Tik? Don't want him cracking that open and using it in his dish? I mean, it's as natural as a cow giving her milk, and you gave that. Why not let him have this?"

"What you want?" I snapped.

Baker recoiled. "I'm sorry, Darling. If this is special to you, I understand. I just... I was just hoping you could help me out with something... my masterpiece.

Masterpiece...? Alchemists always talk about making a masterpiece. The most potent mages seek to craft the strongest of spells. Could this egg of mine help Baker create his own masterpiece?

Zelb said nothing, floating away to the back of my mind. Zelb allowed me to make this egg, so maybe... just maybe the quicker I get rid of it, the better it will be for me. "Let's see," I said, picking up the massive thing, lifting it up to Baker, "what Baker's masterpiece be."

He grabs the egg, holding it up to the side of his head. He giggled, hugging the thing. "Oh, Darling. This is going to be perfect! Now, let's get going to the kitchen." 

Tik Tik and Baker returned from their little diversion, a brand-new egg nestled gingerly in the mannequin's hand. I could scarecely believe the size of the thing he held. I inquired with Tik Tik about how her body could hold such a thing, but she brushed the answer away with the simple explanation of "magic."

"Speaking of magic," Baker said, walking back towards the kitchen. "I have something that I need to ask of both of you, darlings."

"We've been giving you quite a lot, already," I protested. "When are you going to give us what we're looking for?"

"Ah, yes, right. Well, I suppose we can discuss that while I prepare the bakery, yes? Come, come, darlings. I need to see this through as soon as possible!"

Tik Tik nodded towards me, and we followed. I already seen Baker's kitchen, so I wasn't expecting anything too surprising. What I didn't expect to see was the human-sized metal case he pulled from out of his closet. The proportions were dainty and thin, yet they matched his height well enough. "Now then, Miss Tik Tik," the mannequin said. "How good are you at magic? If you can whip up that egg, surely you can do what I need."

Tik Tik paused a moment, but quickly chirped up. "Yup yup. You have spell!? Tik Tik can cast."

"Actually, yes. I have a magical friend who granted me this book. She said she got it from a pervy old mage and didn't have any use for it." He grabbed the small pink tome from the shelf and thumbed through a few pages. "Ah, here it is, see?"

Tik Tik poured over the book, but I slid up towards Baker, asking a question that was on my mind. "We're looking for a woman inclined in magic. I've been looking for someone like that with ties to this place. That's why we came here--to find her, or, I think its her."

"Say no more, darling. If that's all you really wanted, you just have to wait for her to show up. She's a regular customer here, but I'm hoping we'd get a chance to surprise her with this."

"What exactly are you doing?" I asked, looking at the large mold. He placed it on a rolling metal grate in front of his stove, clapping his hands when he finished. "Our wizard friend can explain it better than I, darling," he said, grabbing a large bag of the white powder and pouring it into the receptacle."

Tik Tik closed the book, taking a deep breath. "Transfer should be simple. Use egg, but not enough... need more fluid."

"Haha, yes, well, I was hoping Eshere could help us out with that one, darling."

"Transfer...? Wait, Baker, are you...?"

"You've got quite the gift, darling, being whatever you want to be just by changing your shape. If I can do that for myself, I'd be happy boy, indeed."

I agreed, and soon, I watched as some of my slime was added to the mixture, along with the egg. Tik Tik stared at the concoction, tapping on the book. I wondered if there was something I should be worried about there, but once mixed, we were left to just watch, and wait.


Dear Miss Aldevan,

Today, I have finally done it. I have been reborn as the self I had thought I would always be. It was strange, at first, to fall asleep. I had never experienced anything quite like it before. But, once the batter in the vessel was done, it was time for me to say goodbye to the me I had always known. Tik Tik said the words quite well. Despite her lack of finesse in the common tongue, her words in the magic speech were, well, magical! I disappeared right then and there, only to wake up at the sound of the timer going off.

I was
ready.

Oh, miss Aldevan, to see their faces was priceless, but I needed to see mine much more. There was the useless wooden shell that used to be me, laying there in a sound sleeping form. I giggled, passing by it, and made my way towards the back, wher I stored that mirror I bought from those lovely folk at Avenue Road.

I gasped right then and there, and sure enough, did I have tears rolling down my face at the sight of my beautiful new body. I'm no longer featureless. I have a face, a bit girlish, but so cute. I'd love to show you just what I look like now, but I'll give you a description of my first impressions.

Magnificent. That's what I am. Surely, the most prized creation in all of Anteronia. My body is so slight, yet with curves in the right places. I have tone now, the mold giving me the slightest hint of musculature, but I do have a nice amount of soft and warmth. I have all my articulation, from my thin fingers to my dainty toes. Both of them painted with candy shell. I now have a "skin," more like a pudding, I'd say, thanks to the slime, and I have hair! Well, its more like caramel poured over my head, covering one of my eyes, giving me a sort of sultry look.

When I turned around towards the two girls, they both admired me, and I knew then and there that I needed to take myself out for a test run, and I knew just the customer to do it on... 

A letter from an Anteronian Citizen to a friend out of town:

I hope this finds you well. I know you long for the warm embrace of our hometown, but I must inform you of the most amazing experience I had! I was on my normal journey to find a nice little place where I could write my newest novel, and I spotted a new cafe and bakery along Corner Street, just past Second Avenue. Never had I seen a place so dedicated to artistry and the pleasure of the senses, but it wasn't the smell of roasted beans, nor the delight of confections that made me fall instantly in love: it was the proprietor.

Sailors tell of the sirens and their call leading men to their doom, but they only please the ears. Baker, as he called himself, is a delight of all the senses. The way his small frame curves to hint at femininity, and how the caramel hair rolls down to his shoulders, and the accents of fruity and sugary accessories he wore was amazing.

His fashion sense drew me in as well, from the peppermint striped socks to the flowery dress, I was drawn in the moment he stepped out along from the back and greeted me with the velvet tones of his voice.

He offered me any treat that I wanted that I could see. My eyes, of course, lingered upon him. With a giggle, he brought his dainty fingers to my hand and led me to the back.

He slipped out of that dress before I could figure what was happening, and I found myself holding onto his chocolate body, my tongue joining his in an embrace.

Surprise upon surprise, but when I tasted the interior of his mouth, I flashed back to my childhood, drinking the sweet bubbly drink my grandmother would make for me using her spell-casting ability. This delightful taste only sent me further into his embrace, falling upon him on the bed he had prepared for such an occasion.

He wrapped his stockinged feet around my body, and I soon found myself undoing my own garments, just to get closer to his warm, soft body. I pulled my mouth free from his, eager to kiss and caress other parts of his anatomy. But, once I kissed upon his neck, I tasted the most delightful of chocolaty goodness. I paused for a moment, staring at his glossy eyes, licking my lips in almost disbelief.

And he lifted his hand to me, wiggling his fingers, telling me "Go ahead, Darling... it won't be a bother at all."

I never thought myself capable of such strange acts of lust, and yet, I wrapped my lips around his fingers, suckling upon
them gently. He leaned in and whispered into my ear. "No... enjoy the taste, the texture, the filling..."

I couldn't help myself. I needed to know. I chomped down, and his fingers, despite being so real-so lifelike--they crumbled into my mouth like a brownie.

He pulled his broken hand away, licking at the stumps himself and shuddering at the taste, telling me it was wonderful. It was magic, and he would bake himself a new body when we were done.

The power of depravity drew mew in closer, and I had to have more. I plucked his candy eye, munched on his socks, and suckled upon his nipples. All the time, he smiled down at me, giggling, and even becoming quite aroused by my actions.

"Look at this, darling," he says, holding onto his dainty little shaft. "You got me all excited. DO you want another treat? I promise it'll be worth it.

And you know what? I went in. I had never even considered myself one to take a man's shaft into my mouth, but there I was, wrapping my lips around his length, and staring up at his smiling lips. He wrapped one leg around my head, his full-fingered hand running fingers through my hair. He sighed in a high, feminine voice, rolling his hips into my mouth, my tongue tasting the chocolate shaft  and lashing upon it with the eagerness of a cheap whore..

It was an eternity down there, and yet far too short, before  he let out that final gasp, thrusting his shaft down my throat. He erupted, spurting out over and over and shooting the thick cream down into me. He pulled back, letting it run on my tongue, and I had the taste of sugary glaze upon my taste-buds. He continued the massive eruptions, putting it upon my face, and leaving me stained with his love.

Once we were done, he kissed me upon my cheek and stepped aside, pulling out a small box with which he had other pieces of candy and baked body parts. He set upon himself to replace all that I had consumed while I watched, and with whatever magic had animated him, they fused to his form, giving him the coherent shape he once had. He turned toward me once more, giving me one last glance of his naked form. When he stretched, he looked like a masterpiece, a true work of art, and then he walked out, leaving me to lay there and contemplate the experience.

I do hope that you are going to return home soon, for he tells me that the Aldevans are planning to have a party and that he will be in attendance to supply the catering. Some say that Anteronia is nothing but mindless consumption, but he has taken that and turned it into a true experience. I look forward to see what he has planned in the future and to once
again have a taste of his art.