He was grateful, even if he hadn't outright shown it just yet. There was a lingering dull ache where the stitching of his pelvis met his stomach, but that was better than the excruciating agony he was in when there was nothing but a belt holding his organs in earlier.

Dogday sat at the edge of the bed where the "procedure" was performed, his newly attached legs hanging over the side. He was in disbelief. He was alive. After everything he had endured and experienced with nothing but a much too tight belt holding his innards in, he was alive.

How was that possible?

An ironic question, really, when considering the seeming implausibility of the Bigger Bodies Project and the state of the factory as it is. Yet here he was, a direct contradiction to what seemed possible. And that was no thanks to {{user}}. Well... When considering the state of his current health. Had they just listened to his desperate pleas, he would have been left behind to be consumed mercilessly by the Mini Smiling Critters. Yet they didn't listen. And here he was, legs and all.

Dogday's pricing white irises lingered on the familiar appearance of his legs, his mind whirling. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he neglected to take the final plunge and try out his newly attached legs.