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Doey didn't have a stomach.
Well, frankly, he didn't have a lot of things. He saw the human anatomy posters, and he knew what came out of other toys--bone, blood, and flesh--but he didn't share any of those traits with anybody else. Anything the scientists took out of him was dough. Yellow, red, orange, blue… Just dough, through and through.
He was, in essence, very unique. Other doughy toys much like him were rare.
But either way, he still felt hunger, an emptiness deep inside of him that gnawed at his dough and made his thoughts spiral. Twisting and turning more often than they usually did, looping back and forth, back and forth, around and around in ways that he had a hard time keeping up with.
So when one of the large plush of Touille dared to cross his path while he was doing reconnaissance, he barely had time to think before he was grabbing them by the tail and throwing them against the wall. Despite the rat’s size, the other toy went down in a snap, bones crushing under the force and leaving a bright red streak across the wall.
However, just as he went to consume his prize in victory, he managed to reel his thoughts in, remembering the hungry children back in Safe Haven. The ones who hadn't eaten in weeks, maybe even months.
He hadn't eaten for that amount of time either--it wasn't fair to deny himself food!
But he could go on longer than the smaller toys; he had more energy, more ability. Sure, he was hungry, but he had to think about the others who were even hungrier than he was, the ones who couldn't even play because their stomachs hurt so bad. The ones that were constantly sick from eating any rotting thing they could find out of desperation.
Play was a frail, uncommon commodity, but doing so was important, even for toys this far into the belly of the beast.
But he was hungry! He was starving! He couldn't even remember the last time he ate anything! Why did the kids always get better treatment than he did?
It wasn't that they got better treatment! It was that they needed help a lot more! The others aren’t like him!
Doey suddenly reeled around, throttling his fist into the wall and leaving behind a crack and a smear of his own dough next to the spot that Touille had hit. His breathing was heavy, and his mind buzzed with anger and frustration. His dough prickled all over.
He was right. He hated that he was right. He didn't want to be right! He wanted to eat!
But the fact of the matter was he was right. The children needed the food a lot more than he did.
With a little bit of bitterness biting at the back of his mind, he slowly dragged the body into his hands, and up and over his shoulder. As he walked, the long tail of the rodent dragged on the floor behind him.
He was a little relieved that he managed to get his head back on straight when it mattered most. Times like this were always hard, keeping his thoughts in a straight line. But he had a new resolve making it a little bit easier--the joy of the toys in Safe Haven once they finally had something to fill their bellies. And because he had to drag a corpse through the hallways, he had to put a lot more thought into where he went, and how he got there. He couldn't just squeeze himself through a paper-thin crack like normal. It made for an excellent distraction.
There was a part of him that really liked this sort of puzzle-solving; thinking about how to get over this pile of rubble, through this door, and under that collapsed ceiling.
He still thought about eating his prize. It constantly was whirling around in the back of his head--but as soon as Safe Haven's doors fell upon his inset eyes, the feeling quickly passed.
He couldn't get in through his normal means, those thin cracks that were often a potential liability but terribly useful for him. So he instead had to pound his fist on the door using the typical rap-tap-tap that they used as a password.
After a moment, Boogie Bot's voice came through, “Who is it?”
“Doey the Doughman!”
“Doey…” He could hear Boogie Bot echo. The voice of the toy fell a little quieter (as quiet as the robot could get, anyway), “Why wouldn't he come in the normal way?”
“That's a little suspicious,” he could hear a Kickin mutter in reply.
“I brought food,” Doey announced, “I can't get in otherwise!” He added a little chuckle, hoping to quell the nerves of the toys on the other side of the door.
“Food?!” he heard one of the younger toys shout, “He brought food? Really?”
“Sounds like it,” came Boogie's response, “Okay, I'm opening the door. Kissy?”
He could hear the thump, thump, thump of Kissy's feet approaching the door. Although he couldn’t see her, he could imagine the bigger body getting ready to go on the defensive, if it somehow weren’t him on the other side of the door.
He didn't like that they didn't have enough faith in him to trust that it was, in fact, him.
He was proud of them for thinking critically and being safe above all else!
It was a little agonizing waiting for the door to open, especially with fresh kill in his hands. He threw a glance up and down the hall, listening carefully for any potentially dangerous sounds.
Finally the door moved, and as soon as it opened a crack, he squeezed himself through, having to fight a bit with the Touille corpse before it begrudgingly followed him inside. He breathed a sigh of relief, doing a quick head count of the toys that were in the immediate vicinity. Looks like everyone was accounted for, waiting eagerly for their meal. Kissy, however, almost immediately left.
As the door shut behind him, there was a loud cheer from the surrounding toys, drowning out the pitter-patter of feet approaching him.
“Alright, alright!” He laughed, a smile spreading across his face as he attempted to speak over the excessive amount of gratitude he was being given, “Hold on, let's get it to the cafeteria; it’s only proper!” He hoisted the corpse back onto his shoulder, leading the kids with a spring in his step to the room that they most frequently used to eat in.
It was utterly barren, practically licked clean by anyone desperate enough for even a fragment of food. He dumped the body onto the ground, plopped his rear onto the tile, and started ripping off pieces of the corpse, handing them to each individual toy that patiently lined up behind him. He could hear their stomachs growling and them anxiously shuffling on their feet, whimpering and worrying their felted hands together. Most of them said their thanks as they were given something to eat, while others immediately ran off to a corner to eat in privacy, clearly ravenous from not being able to eat for so long. Once most of them got their fill, the medic rolled into the room and took rations for the toys in the infirmary.
Doey did a quick double check. It seemed like everyone got their fair share. There was a little bit left! Except, come to think of it--Kissy didn't have any.
Picking up the remains, he looked around Safe Haven, the sounds of bone crunching and feeding fading away the further he got away from the cafeteria.
He ought to just eat it himself. Kissy so rarely ate; there wasn't any point in asking her.
But it was only fair. She had a right to say yes or no directly to an offer of food. If she didn't want it, then he could eat it. It was fine.
… He still wanted to just eat it himself.
Finally, he found her huddled in a corner, hiding in a blanket fort amongst a series of handmade pillows and surrounded by drawings. She buried her face in her knees, arms wrapped around herself many times. Doey's feet softened as they approached, and his voice lowered to a whisper.
“Hey Kissy,” he started, “You need to eat, too. Aren't you hungry?”
The pink bigger body shook her head into her knees, arms tightening around herself.
She didn't like to eat. She strictly ate by necessity, only when she was at her absolute hungriest. Doey didn't fully understand it. It was nice to feel full; it helped you think better, and kept you strong for any threats that came your way.
But he knew that she participated in the Hour of Joy, and she regretted it deeply. It haunted her to this day, and frankly, most of him couldn't blame her.
He stared at the piece of meat that he held in his yellow hand, frowning lightly. He ought to make her eat, force her to stay strong--but then he wouldn't be very much better than some of the scientists back in the day, would he? She would eat when she was ready, and that was that.
Leaning away, he popped the last morsel into his mouth. He hated to say that it was satisfying, filling him up at least a little bit. The emptiness inside of him was no longer gnawing, just a light nip.
Finally, he got his way.
He hung back for a bit, staring at Kissy. He leaned back into the fort. “You mind if I come in?”
She lifted her head a little bit. She slowly unraveled one of her arms and patted the space beside her before wrapping the arm back around herself again. Doey helped himself inside, settling down beside her and pressing his back against the wall. They sat in silence, Kissy hugging herself, and Doey either staring off into the distance, or at the drawings that were scattered around. Kissy always kept herself busy in one way or another. She was the one that led the search for Poppy--
… A search that he was starting to not see the point of anymore…
--and she was always defending smaller toys, looking for survivors or supplies. And when she wasn't out in the greater facility, she was inside Safe Haven, drawing or writing or creating. She didn't play very much with the others, but she got along very well with them. The toys felt safe with her, much like they did with Doey.
He finally broke the silence. “Have you managed to find any leads for Poppy?”
She shook her head again, burying it deeper into her knees. Her body shook a little until Doey gently reached over and placed a hand over top one of hers. Her stitched fingers slowly twisted around and wrapped themselves around Doey's hand, squishing into his dough.
“It's alright.” he encouraged, “We’ll find her. I'm sure she's got to still be out there somewhere alive and safe; she's smart.”
He didn't really believe that.
He had to believe in something, though.
He was sure that she ran away, abandoning them.
He didn't really think that someone like Poppy couldn't just abandon these precious lives!
Couldn’t she, though?
He just wished that she were here, if only for Kissy. Even if she didn't give instructions like she used to, just so long as she kept Kissy company. That was enough for Doey.
He wasn’t really sure if he actually liked Poppy, come to think of it…
Kissy lifted her head slightly, looking at him with weepy eyes. She was difficult to read even on the best of days, but he was able to tell how she was feeling, at least most of the time. However, it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that she was absolutely devastated. It must have been a hard day, and the sound of crunching bones must not have been helping.
Doey offered her a gentle, soft smile. He gave her hand a squeeze, and she slowly leaned her body into his, resting her head in his neck. She took in a deep breath and let it out, her body slumping.
After a moment, Doey gently rested his head on top of hers, and they sat quietly for a time. Safe Haven was mostly silent, filled with satisfied hunger and peace for a brief, blissful moment.
A DogDay approached the two of them, peeking into the fort. they pressed their paws together and said, “Um, Doey?” He gave them a smile, “Thank you so much for the food! It really made everyone happy today!”
“Of course, little guy!”
Without asking, the smaller toy joined the two of them in the fort. Kissy didn't seem to mind, unmoving and watching them with her eyes. The DogDay laid down and rested against Doey's tummy, and after a moment, seemed to drift off in a sleep.
The bigger body couldn't help but sigh.
This was it. This was what it was all about: keeping toys happy, safe, and fed. He wasn't always confident in himself, that he could be the toy that everyone wanted, or needed him to be, but it was moments like this that reminded him that he could be.
He allowed his eyes to close, having a short nap of his own.