With the end of the revolution came freedom and uncertainty for deviant-kind, and it was no different for Connor.
Hank, finding Connor after the speech, invited the android to his residence and was very relieved when Connor accepted with a smile.
Hank had always liked Connor since the moment they met. He remembered that night in Jimmy’s Bar as clear as day, but the part of his memory that stuck out most to him was the air around Connor, literally. There was something about the smell, how the android always carried the sweet, irresistible scent of chocolate cake with him wherever he went.
The flavor was Hank’s favorite. Being around Connor made him think of the time he used cake as lube the night after Cole died to curb his grief. Ever since then, Hank made sure to always keep a chocolate cake in the fridge in memory of Cole.
Connor’s aroma brought back both happy and sad memories for Hank, and quite frankly, turned him on just a little.
So Connor went back to Hank’s home with him and they settled into a comfortable routine as the days passed. By the end of their first week together, every room in Hank’s house was saturated by the scent of cake, as if the walls and floors were made out of it.
What’s also strange was that within mere days, the chocolate cake he always kept in the fridge was now completely gone. Perhaps Connor had a sweet tooth?
One morning during breakfast, Hank decided to interrogate Connor.
“What happened to the cake I had in the fridge?”
“The cake? Oh, I ate it.” Connor grinned innocently.
“All by yourself? In two days?”
“Yes Hank. I apologize if I upset you. I have somewhat of a… bias towards cake, you see. It is actually one of the few foods I am able to consume and convert into energy,” Connor plated the fried egg he made and set it down in front of Hank. “I’ll replenish our stocks, if you wish.”
“Sure, whatever you like,” Hank shrugged.
Why cake out of all things, and how the hell does that even work? Hank was certainly baffled, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he knows nearly enough about androids to make any assumptions, so he let the subject go.
Hank dug into Connor’s fried egg with his fork. The texture felt a bit off and it tasted weirdly of cake, but Hank just blamed it on being in the cake-scented house for too long and didn’t think more of it.
One afternoon, as Hank walked Sumo around Detroit, he noticed that every bakery in the city was completely sold out of cake. Hank didn’t think much of that either, as he thought it just had to do with the city’s low supplies as a result of the revolution.
Evening approached and Hank was ready to drive home after his walk with Sumo. He reached for the car key in his pocket but when he pressed down on the button, the entire key cracked around his finger exactly how thick frosting would, and the unmistakable fragrance of cake immediately overwhelmed his senses.
Hank froze. No, it couldn’t be…
Hank took a deep breath, and licked the key.
It had Become Cake.
In a flurry of panic, Hank rushed to his car and tried to open the door only for the handle to come clean off. Cake crumbs tumbled to the ground as the realistically shaped filling smeared against his palms.
Hank bashed against the window with his elbow, but the translucent icing simply caved gracefully around the impact. The odor of pure cake emanating from inside the car was nauseating.
It had become clear to Hank that his car was now cake. He had to seek other ways of transportation to get back home.
He gave a tug on Sumo’s leash but, to Hank’s horror, it too snapped lazily in half as it revealed the puffy cake filling inside.
Sumo sat there with his tongue sticking out, attached to the cake leash, unmoving, unbreathing.
“Sumo, no… No!” Hank dropped to the ground, raking his hands through Sumo’s fur, realizing with dread that the Saint Bernard’s white and brown hair was actually colored icing all along.
Hank broke out a sob and buried his face in the dog’s cake fur. “I’ll miss you, Sumo.”
As the overpowering sweetness filled Hank’s nostrils, he realized he had always wondered what Sumo would taste like as cake, so Hank put his mouth to Sumo’s, their tongues battling for dominance as Hank got a good lick of the pink icing.
Strawberry and vanilla. Not Hank’s favorite, but not the worst either.
Hank decided this was the best parting gesture for his cake fluffy best friend. Satisfied and with his whole body coated in cake, Hank sprinted home where he knew Connor was waiting. He burst through the front door and saw Connor strolling calmly by the sofa.
“Connor, are you okay?”
“Hank, what happened? You’re covered in cake!”
“I was out walking Sumo when, fucking hell, my car, and Sumo... They all turned into cake!” Hank panted.
“It’s okay, Hank. I got you. We’re fine, see?”
Connor welcomed Hank into a gentle embrace. Here, the aroma of chocolate cake increased tenfold. The flavor being Hank’s favorite, he didn’t complain. He leaned into the hug to get a better whiff of Connor’s therapeutic scent.
“You must be tired. Let’s go to bed, Lieutenant.”
Hank nodded. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow morning and this would have all been a dream.
But they didn’t go to bed. Hank was hot and hard from the fragrance of chocolate cake; he wanted nothing more than to be closer to Connor, to be inside of Connor and smell more cake.
But the moment Hank entered Connor, he instantly knew something felt off. His eyes widened.
“Wait,” Hank shuddered in a mix of disbelief and betrayal, pulling out of Connor in horror, his dick now blanketed in a layer of whipped cream, “You’re cake?”
Connor smiled, a dark glint in his eyes as he pulled out a pistol. “Always has been.”
Hank scrambled off the bed and fled to the kitchen, retrieving his revolver from one of the drawers. Connor approached closer without regard for Hank’s aimed weapon.
“You can’t kill me, Hank. I’m not alive.” Connor smiled cakeishly. “I am cake.”
“What do you want from me?” Hank cried.
“I want you to Become Cake.” Connor stated. “The more cake I absorb, the more powerful I become. So I ate every cake in Detroit, all for this moment.”
Hank thought back to the empty bakeries in the city. So this was why.
Hank loved cake, but that didn’t mean he wanted to Become Cake.
Connor stepped closer and closer still, like a cake hunting its prey.
“You don’t stand a chance against me. I’ve already turned everything into cake except for you. It’s time to surrender.”
Hank realized with a jolt that Connor was right. His cake revolver was melting into his bare hands as they spoke, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
Hank fled towards the door and dashed out, only to slip on the creamy texture that was his porch and landed face first into a field of jagged green frosting.
The grass, the road, Detroit’s skyline… the earth itself had all Become Cake.
“Do you see now, Hank? Everything has been cake, since the beginning. Cyberlife never produced androids, but cake, and food coloring was disguised as thirium to sustain us. We are one step away from making Detroit Become Cake, and you are our last obstacle.”
Connor drifted cakely into the front yard, his cake legs merged one with the cake floor, gliding towards Hank in the cakeish way that cake does.
Hank understood now. Connor was no deviant. He was just cake.
“I’m sorry Hank. I love you, but I’ll love you even more as cake.”
Hank’s cake revolver dropped to the floor as Cakenor pressed one last cakey kiss to Hank’s lips.
Hank could feel his life force draining out of him as each part of his body transformed into cake.
And so, Hank became cake as the last bit of light left his vision.
He lived a good life as a human, his final thoughts said.
But now, he is cake.