Another Ind of Baer's Daughter

"Is that how you made me, Master Albrecht?" she asked. Albrecht put down his knife before looking up; this was the most delicate part of the work, and it wouldn't do to make a wrong move while he wasn't paying attention.

"No," he said, looking up at Ginger. The golem's gingerbread brow was furrowed as she frowned down at the marzipan sculpture Albrecht had been hunched over. "For you I used the mould." He pointed over at the hulking mass of iron in the corner of the bakery-cum-wizard's laboratory. She considered it for a moment, then turned back to him.

"The mould is better," she said. He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so," he said, and she flushed, warm molasses pooling under her deep brown skin. It was good, and strange, to hear her expressing an opinion. Golems didn't do that, as a rule. But Albrecht had wanted more than a mindlessly obedient automaton--being with one was too much like being alone, and he'd been alone long enough, after Sylvie had died.

"This will be your sister, when she's ready," said Albrecht, when Ginger didn't say anything. "So don't be jealous. I'm not replacing you with her." Ginger nodded, dubiously, and Albrecht went back to sculpting.

What had begun as a massive block of marzipan brought up from Albrecht's cold cellar was now the figure of a woman, slim and pale. Her skin and hair were a rich, buttery shade ever-so-slightly darker than white, and she glowed in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the bakery's high windows. Her legs were long, her waist narrow, her breasts small and firm. Albrecht had debated a moment before adding a navel, unsure whether it was appropriate or not, before deciding to make her as human as possible.

At the moment he was working on the face. He scraped the last glob of marzipan away from the lid of an eye, and then sat back to survey his work.

"When will she... wake up?" said Ginger, who'd only had sleep explained to her the night before, after she'd panicked when Albrecht had drifted off next to her on the bakery floor.

"Soon," said Albrecht. "But we still have a lot to do first." He stood up stiffly and stretched, then crossed to the desk he kept in one corner of the bakery. "You can help," he said, over his shoulder to Ginger. She brightened up immediately; being useful was in a golem's nature, no matter how much like a person it became.

For Albrecht, it was something of a relief to have her helping with his spells. It made her calling him 'Master' seem more like the respect of an apprentice than the obedience of a slave; she already had too much personality for him to think of her solely in terms of my construct, and sleeping with slaves was too much like rape for his tastes. Not that he was entirely comfortable sleeping with an apprentice, either, but it was better, at least. It helped ease the lingering guilt he felt about their first time together.

"What can I do, Master Albrecht?" she said, bouncing after him. Her gooey, dough-like hair swayed about her neck, and her full breasts bounced along with her. Albrecht tore his gaze away, flipping open his spellbook and spreading out his sheaf of notes. He really ought to find some clothes for her at some point. It was nice, having a naked girl in the bakery, but sooner or later he'd get distracted at the wrong moment and end up blowing something up--or worse, let a soufflé fall.

"You can chant this phrase here," he said after a moment, tracing a few lines of arcane script with his finger. Ginger leaned over his shoulder to see what he was pointing at. She wasn't quite able to read, they'd discovered, but if he read it out for her once she'd be able to recognize and understand it again-- golems learned quickly, in Albrecht's experience, the better to serve their masters. It was a poor wizard with few books, and a poor construct who couldn't fetch a particular volume from among others when asked. He enunciated the phrase for her as she mouthed along silently after him, and then he turned the book over to her.

"When I give you the signal, start repeating that phrase," he said. "I'll be chanting other things, and making sparks and whatnot. And... you can probably light the incense, as well. You'll like that, I think--you haven't had a chance to smell much of anything yet." She nodded, starting to grin. It was obvious that Albrecht was enthused with this project, and despite her reservations, she was beginning to be as well.

They set up for the spell that evening. Albrecht chalked a circle on the bakery's tile floor, around the counter that held the marzipan woman, and positioned Ginger on one side of it with her book on a small lectern, and a bowl of incense and a candle to hand. He stood on the other side with his staff and an array of spellbooks levitating in a rough circle around him. He thumped his staff on the floor three times, and then whirled it overhead while he began his chant--the staff resembled nothing more than an oversized wooden spoon, and he stirred the air with it as though it were mixing dough.

Words of power echoed from the rafters as he spoke, pouring his power into the circle on the floor, and into the inert figure at its centre. At the crest of his chant, he pointed his finger at Ginger, who touched candle to incense and then gasped, almost overcome by the sweet, pungent odour. She quickly recovered, and then put the bowl aside and began to chant in counterpoint to Albrecht, her voice harmonizing with his as their words echoed. Glowing runes of power sprang to life around the perimeter of the circle as Albrecht chanted "....Ph'nglui mglw'nafh and a cup of brown sugar, fhtagn for three minutes..." and Ginger repeated her phrase over and over. Albrecht thumped his staff down again, and their voices came to a crescendo as the circle flared its brightest and then winked out. Albrecht wound his chant down, and signalled for Ginger to do the same.

They looked at each other across the circle that was once again merely chalk, and then they both looked to the figure lying inside of it. Nothing seemed to have happened.

"Did it... work, Master?" said Ginger, tentatively.

"Wait a moment and we'll see," he said.

They waited. Nothing continued to happen. Then, the pale figure began to stir.

Albrecht was at her side in a moment, and Ginger followed only a second later, looking suddenly unsure--shy, even. The marzipan woman opened her eyes, and blinked up at them both.

The spell had refined what Albrecht, no artist, had carved. Her lips parted to reveal teeth Albrecht hadn't even tried to capture, and a mouth he had left closed her original shape. Her eyes were pale orbs with the rings of iris and pupil slightly inset--more like a statue than Ginger was. She was slimmer where ginger was more rounded, too--her breasts smaller, her thighs leaner, her hips not quite so deliciously wide. Even so, she was stunning, now that she was more than lifeless confectionery.

"Sit up," said Albrecht, gently, smiling at her, and she sat up, slowly. "My name is Albrecht," he continued, putting his hand on his chest. "And this is your sister, Ginger." He gestured to Ginger. "Do you understand?"

The marzipan woman opened her mouth, hesitantly, then simply nodded, her eyes flicking back and forth between the wizard and the other golem.

"Say our names," he said, still smiling. The marzipan woman opened her mouth again, and then closed it. She tried again. "G... Ginger," she said. "Albrecht."

"That's good!" said Albrecht, but the golem frowned. "Master Albrecht," she said, after a second, seeming to know intuitively as Ginger had who had created her. Albrecht's smile shrank a little, but he pressed on.

"Try standing," he said, stepping back from the counter. The golem swung her slim legs over the edge of the counter, and put her bare feet on the tile floor. She gasped and drew them back, before putting them back down tentatively.

"Cold!" she said, but she wiggled her toes, and then stood carefully, hands clutching the side of the counter. Behind her, Ginger made a strangled sound. Albrecht looked over to her--she'd been unusually quiet, while her sister had been struggling to make sense of her strange birth. Her gaze was boring into the marzipan woman's back, and all trace of shyness or jealousy was gone; there was a look of mingled pity and concern on her face.

"Is that... was I like that, Master Albrecht?" she said. "So... so confused?" She turned her gaze on him, and he had to swallow a twinge of guilt before speaking.

"I... yes. Yes, I suppose you were." She made the sound again, and her sister turned to look at her, that same confusion apparent in her face.

"You poor thing," said Ginger. "You poor, poor thing. You need what Master Albrecht gave me when I was new out of the mould. You need a name, and you need something to... to make you alive." She took her sister golem by the shoulders and pulled her in close, leaning over the counter. The other woman gave a soft cry of surprise, but didn't pull away.

"I don't know any names," said Ginger. "But the box we took you out of before you were like me said Marchpane." And then she pulled the marzipan woman the rest of the way in, and kissed her on the mouth.

The pale golem went rigid as a board when Ginger kissed her, and then slowly softened. Albrecht opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. This was, if he was honest, what he had created a second golem for. He just hadn't expected it to be so... fraught with meaning.

"Ginger," he said, after a minute had passed without the kiss breaking. Neither of them needed air, and if he didn't interrupt, they might simply not have stopped. Ginger pulled back when she heard Albrecht's voice and her sister tried to follow her, but Ginger's hands on her shoulders kept her back.

"Marchpane," said the marzipan woman, tasting the name.

"It just means marzipan," Albrecht sighed, but he could tell it was already too late to give her another name now-- and it wasn't as though 'Ginger' was any better. "I suppose we can call you March, for short." Marchpane nodded hesitantly, her hands still on Ginger's shoulders, and Ginger beamed at her.

"Come," said Albrecht, touching Marchpane's shoulder gently. The golem jumped a little, and then settled into his touch. Her skin was cool where Ginger's was warm, and smoother. She turned, and Albrecht took her by the hand and led her out of the chalk circle, Ginger following close behind like a mother hen watching her chick. It was endearing, in a way.

"This is my bakery," said Albrecht. "I work here with my assistants and apprentices." She nodded, looking around the bakery floor curiously. He led them over to the stairs.

"This leads to my tower," he said. "Where I... where we live." They went up, through three floors.

"The library," said Albrecht, as they passed it, and Ginger gasped while Marchpane looked on uncomprehendingly at the countless books. "My laboratory," he said, continuing up the spiral staircase. The chamber was full of stuffed, fantastical animals and bizarre glassworks, and candles and lecterns and books and racks of scrolls...

"...You'd both better stay out of there for now," he said as they passed, eyeing candles and paper. "And up here are my living quarters. I'll... expand it. Rooms for both of you," he said. Ginger shook her head.

"We'll stay with you, Master," she said. Albrecht glanced at her while Marchpane continued to look around in wide-eyed wonder, not realizing exactly what her sister meant.

The living quarters were three rooms: a broad, circular sitting room with a fireplace and a collection of comfortable looking armchairs arranged around an ancient, expensive carpet; a small kitchen for Albrecht's personal use, tiny compared to the bakery below; and Albrecht's bed chamber, a modest room with a wide, canopied bed and portraits on the walls. There was a night table, filled with Sylvie's things, that Albrecht hadn't had the heart to get rid of.

He showed his two golems every room, ending in the bed chamber. Ginger and Marchpane both gawked openly--Marchpane, because the idea of rooms was still as new as everything else, and Ginger because these rooms were unfamiliar. Albrecht sat heavily on the edge of the bed, looking resolutely away from the silver comb that glinted on the top of the night table. He didn't feel guilty, exactly, for finding companionship again. He'd loved Sylvie more than anything, but she had been dead for a long time. It was just.... strange, he supposed.

"...Master," said Marchpane, breaking him out of his reverie. She had stopped looking around the room, and now her eyes were on him, though her face was lowered. "Why... why did you make me?" He wondered, idly, if all golems asked that question.

"For this," said Ginger, wrapping her arms around the other golem from behind. Her hands found Marchpane's breasts and began to knead. The pale golem's head kicked back in surprise.

"I... oh!" she said. "M-master, what...?"

"Not... not just for that," said Albrecht, feeling himself beginning to stir beneath his robes. Ginger licked Marchpane's ear, and the other golem groaned, her hands twitching.

"Ginger, that's enough," he said, and she withdrew, her face a mask of disappointment. Marchpane stumbled forward, suddenly unsteady on her feet, then caught herself.

"Master?" said Ginger, looking as though he had scolded her.

"Slowly, Ginger," said Albrecht, standing up. "I... we shouldn't rush her." He stood in front of Marchpane, who looked up at him, her eyes half lidded. There was nothing in her but marzipan, but he got the sense she'd have been flushed if her body had the capacity for it.

"I... I didn't do this for Ginger," he said, taking her shoulders. "But I should have--I should have explained, before I..." He shook his head, and started again.

"I made her--and you--because I was alone. I was alone for a long time. I know you don't understand what that means yet, not really, but it was... sad. Sad and awful." He put his hands on her cheeks, leaned in and kissed her forehead, gently. She smelled of almonds and honey.

"I don't want you to be my... my servant." he continued. "I want you to be my... companion. You and Ginger."

She nodded, her marzipan hair sliding around her like a thick, cream-coloured curtain, sculpted locks sliding over each other. Ginger came up behind her, and pressed her warm, well-baked body against Marchpane's coolness, her breasts flattening against her sister golem's back.

"You don't need to explain it," she said, her hands sliding across Marchpane's stomach, between the pale golem and Albrecht. Marchpane shivered, and leaned back into her sister, her mouth opening and closing.

"Ginger, I..." said Albrecht, feeling the need to apologize somehow.

"Don't explain," she said. "Show her, like you showed me." He swallowed, then gasped when Ginger's hand took Marchpane's and pressed it against his member, through his robes. He swelled against her fingers almost immediately.

"Master, what is...?" Marchpane said, as Ginger squirmed against her back, the fingers of her other hand playing across Marchpane's pale stomach.

"The bed," said Albrecht, backing up, letting himself be pushed along. Maybe Ginger was

right--maybe there was no way to explain it. He sat down when his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Ginger had steered Marchpane towards him with a steady pressure at the marzipan woman's back, until she was standing over him. Now, she gave a gentle shove, pushing her down on top of him. She yelped as she tipped over, and Abrecht caught her by the hips as she landed on his chest, her small breasts pressing into the fabric of his robe. Ginger put her hands on Marchpane's rump and pushed, grinding the other golem's chest against the brocaded fabric, leaving fine streaks of marzipan, and Marchpane groaned while Ginger bit her lip.

"Gently," said Albrecht, rolling them both over, so that Marchpane was on her back on the sheets and Ginger was behind him. He leaned in, and kissed his creation, softly, while Ginger climbed onto the bed beside him. Marchpane responded faster to him than she had to Ginger, growing used to kissing. Her mouth melted against his--almost literally. She was soft and pliable; she tasted like she smelled, sweet and a little nutty. Her mouth was cool, but Albrecht's tongue introduced heat into her, and soon their kiss was slick and sticky. Her tongue touched his teeth, tentatively, and then ran over them, exploring his mouth as he explored hers. Her eyes were closed.

"Me too..." said Ginger, almost petulantly, and Albrecht drew back to look at her. Her pout vanished the minute he made eye contact, and she dove into his arms and kissed him, hard and hungrily.

"You see?" she said when he broke the kiss, looking at her sister, who was gazing up at them with eyes half-lidded. "None of us are alone." Then she leaned down to explore Marchpane's mouth some more herself. The pale golem's hands clutched at nothing for a moment, and then she sank her fingers into Ginger's raw, gooey hair. She gasped against her sister's mouth at the sensation of moist, sticky heat around her fingers, and Albrecht's cock twitched as he watched them together, Ginger beginning to grind herself against Marchpane's leg. He shakily began to undo his robes, throwing them aside a layer at a time.

"This is... what is this?" gasped Marchpane, as Ginger drew back, and began to kiss her way down the ivory column of her sister's neck.

"Companionship," said Albrecht, at the same time Ginger said "Life. Being more than dough, and almond paste." She turned her gaze to Albrecht, and then raised her plump bottom in the air and wiggled her broad hips at him. His gaze fell to her slit, the lips always puffed by the baking process now engorged with soft, warm dough dripping with hot molasses. He reached out and ran a finger along the length of her cleft, and she purred and turned her attention back to the golem beneath her.

Marchpane was biting her lip, her hands curled into fists at her sides as Ginger licked and kissed, biting gently at her firm nipples, fingers circling her navel, trailing over her hips.

"Put your hands on me," she said, and Marchpane obeyed clumsily, hands resting on Ginger's shoulder and her hip. Albrecht took Marchpane's hand in his and placed it on Ginger's full breast, before taking hold of her hips himself and lining his member up at her hot slit. He pushed against her and she moaned as he slid in effortlessly, her thick, gooey insides pulsing around him. She reared back against him, bringing Marchpane's other hand up to her breast, and began to buck against him.

"He'll do this... for you too," she said, riding him. "Look. Look at us. This is... why we were born." She gasped when Albrecht bit her neck gently, nipping at her sugary brown skin. Her hot folds clutched at him, and she raised her arms and ran her fingers through his hair. Her own goopy locks squelched against his chest as he rocked her up and down his cock, hot molasses splashing every time he thrust into her.

Albrecht was speechless as Marchpane looked up at them with longing in her sculpted eyes, her hands beginning to kneed at Ginger's breasts. His breath came in pants, and Ginger's cries of pleasure were coming faster and faster.

"Master..." said Marchpane, "I... between my legs, it..." she shook her head, lacking the words.

"It's fine," he growled, thrusting into Ginger faster, harder. He shook his head, controlled himself. "It's fine, he said again, more evenly. "Touch... touch yourself. You'll see." Her fingers left Ginger's breast and tentatively slid down her hips towards her sex. Albrecht leaned down over Ginger and took Marchpane's hand in his own, grinding her fingers against her pale lips, which parted for them. Marchpane's hips bucked, and a sigh escaped her mouth. She was tight around her fingers, his fingers, cool and dry--but smooth. As he stroked her, made her stroke herself, she began to warm at his touch, her walls beginning to loosen up, to run, to grow sticky and moist. She gasped.