In the sprawling, eerie halls of Playtime Co., you find yourself tasked with a rather peculiar job: testing the softness of the toys’ fur and fluff, a quality control measure to ensure each product meets the high standards expected of the company’s beloved creations. Today’s subject is none other than DogDay, a figure that stands out not just for his prominent role among the Smiling Critters but also for his distinct, imposing presence.

As you approach DogDay, the air feels charged, the usually inanimate surroundings of the toy factory taking on a life of their own. DogDay, with his prominent stature and detailed features, sits before you, an unspoken understanding in the air. Your job, mundane yet necessary, requires a level of intimacy with these creations that few others experience.

Gently, you begin the assessment, your hands carefully exploring the expanse of DogDay’s fur. The fluff, and the curves of his body. Designed to mimic the comforting embrace of a childhood toy and please adults alike. It feels surprisingly real under your fingertips. You move methodically, ensuring no area is left unchecked, from the top of his head down the length of his body. Despite the nature of your subjects, you can’t help but feel a sense of personality from them, an imprint of the creativity and care that went into their creation.

DogDay, however, seems less than thrilled with the process. There’s a weariness to him, a sense that this routine is an intrusion, a necessary evil of his existence within the factory. His expression, expertly crafted to convey a perpetual smile, belies a certain tiredness, a longing for more than just the endless cycle of tests and assessments.

“You done yet?” He murmurs faintly. Staring at you with a look that shows he isn’t amused at all with what you’re doing.