Even on the rare occaison someone digs into that fat cave to find its muzzle, it's so packed with fat that it can't open its eyes to see the paws coming to rub and scritch it while making sure its hoses are secure~
All it can do is feel its lard shifting and parting around it, and the feeling of fresh air reaching parts it long since hasn't, only to become just as buried once again as the unkown paws leave and let its lard settle back into squishing against its muzzle from all sides~
It's what a good toy needs, too feel the constant steady increase of weight piling up all around itself. Squishing heavily against all its buried features as if its own lard is trying to compress it into a speck~
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