Lovemore clasps a hoof over his heart, stepping back through the threshold of the baker’s bedroom. “What? Me? Steal from you? Perish the thought!”
The human-sized host approaches the short dik-dik, hands on his hips, a pout on his lips, and a discerning and disappointed gaze upon his uncovered eye. “Then, you’ll need to tell me exactly what you were doing, sneaking up on me and my special guest?”
“I, uh…” Lovemore catches his wife slipping off her seat, putting her dress back into position. “I just wanted to ensure that Lerato was having a good time.”
Baker squats down, hands on his knees, looking at the little antelope in the eyes. “If your wife wasn’t satisfied with her service, we have rules. You should have seen all that when you signed her up for this excursion.”
He smiles slightly and places a hand on Lovemore’s cheek. “Now, turn around and march right back out to the foyer, my friend, before I get handsy.”
“Oh, he’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear?” Lerato says, stashing away the cake knife behind her back as she walks past the tray. “Honestly, I’d love to see a bit of that myself.”
“W… wuah?” Lovemore gasps.
“Please, I read up on you, Baker. I know about your skill, not just as a culinary genius but as a champion in the Tournament of Pleasure.”
Baker narrows his gaze, turning toward the female of the duo. “Well, I would be flattered, but I haven’t built a body for such a thing, and I’m on the clock to deliver you a tantalizing time tonight.”
“You’re on the clock to give me what I want, right? Seems to me that program could be easily interpreted in many ways.”
Baker frowns. “What exactly do you mean by that, miss, Aah!?”
Lovemore claps his hooves against Baker’s neck and, from them, emits sparks of magical energy, coursing through the construct’s body, shocking the femboy, making his hair stand on end, the smell of crispy bread filling the room.
Baker collapses, holes in his neck burning with the vestiges of magic crackling through him.
He doesn’t get up, paralyzed as he is, hands and knees on the floor.
Lerato steps up before him, smirking as she looks down over his cakey form. “Well, well, hubby, looks like your magic is working well, as always.”
Lovemore smirks, pushing his glasses back up to position. “As always, his constructed form leaves him vulnerable to an overstimulation of magical energizing. It’ll take him a moment to reboot his systems adequately to do anything about it.”
“That should give me enough time to really have some fun with him,” says the lady Dik-Dik, walking along Baker’s side, pulling out the cake-covered knife. She presses the flat end of the blade at his neck and strokes it down along where his spine would be. “I have a hypothesis, my love,” she says. “This Baker’s form is entirely powered by  his magical will.”
“That would make sense, considering his business model.”
“It would be impossible to do any real damage to him.”
“That is the intent.”
“But instead of truly hacking,” She says, diving the knife into the small of Baker’s back. “We should try soft-modding.”
The baker gasps, arching his back.
“Hm… yes! His is a unique case,” the male says, clapping his hoof cloves over his nose. “But the principles behind his leaping consciousness into new bodies is understood by various schools of thought as theoretically possible.”
Lerato cuts a square hole in the middle of that cake, lifting up a large chunk from within Baker. “Well, my dear, what do you think about the magic inherent inside him? Any mechanics you can mess with?”
Lovemore takes the cube of cake and leans in. He sniffs it. He licks it. He waves his hand over it once and twice. “Hm, yes, fascinating.”
“Is it, now?” Lerato says, hopping up on Baker’s back and sitting on him, one leg crossed over the other.
Baker grits his teeth. “W… what are you planning to do?”
“All sorts of delightful things, I’m sure,” says Lerato, leaning on her side and patting Baker on the cheek. “After all, I’m in a bit of a slump. I’m stuck with my own programming and construct crafting, so why not look at you for inspiration on exactly what we can do with a fully programmable model.”
“And you’ve… been planning this… from the start?”
“That’s the brilliant part!” Says Lovemore, stepping around to face the construct. “We haven’t! All I wanted was for my wife to have a wonderful evening.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest. You wouldn’t have given me a night of access to the most famous golem in the city if you didn’t want me tinkering with him,” she coos, dragging the knife up along Baker’s side.
“So, that’s all I am to you?” Baker says. “A thing to break for your pleasure?”
“Oh, Baker,” Lovemore says, shrugging. “Who are you to lecture us on what you do yourself to your bodies.”
Lerato leans in, whispering into his ear. “You have people pay for the right to fuck and eat you, and you think you’re on some kind of moral high ground?”
“Now, now, deer,” Lovemore says, shaking his head. “We cannot expect artificial intelligence to understand the nuance of morality. If memory serves, he was created simply to give pleasure. Besides. Once we’re finished with your body, you won’t remember a thing.”
“Well, you in a sort of metaphysical sense,” The male continues.”
“What do you mean?” Baker asks.
“Oh, you silly little thing,” the magus says, shaking his head. “When you transfer consciousness into a new body, do you honestly think you’re moving your mind from one vessel to the next? What a fascinating coping mechanism that is.
“No, no, the truth is much simpler than that. You simply copy yourself from one form to the other. With but a few simple tweaks to the kernel of this body, I think we should be able to disconnect you from the mannequin form. It’ll simply wake up with no recollection of tonight’s events.
“Or, if we can figure out what’s in that noggin of yours,” Lerato says, “we could probably inject our own memories into there.”
“Oh, verily,” Lovemore says, patting his hooves together.