"Oh boy, this is huge. I hope nobody comes and sees us here." Dale was a bit worried, but thrilled at the same time, following the bat who was flying ahead through a corridor. Foxglove looked around with her eyes wide, her big bat ears pointing first one direction than another. "I hear nobody, they must have all left for the weekend." The bat flew up to a panel next to a big sliding door. Floor and wall were tiles, and industrial fluoro tubes were hanging from the ceiling. Though they were all turned off, the dim light was coming from rows of nearly opaque windows in the roof. The panel consisted of numbered buttons. Foxglove studied them for a while, hesitating to press one. Dale looked up at it wondering too. "I think that opens the door. Can you do that?" Again the chipmunk pondered if it had been a bad idea not to tell the others about the 'mission' they were on. Gadget always knew how to handle technical things and make plans. But then again, the bat had been so determined that her 'hero' could handle this, and there had been no time to loose. Foxglove had been studying the panel unsure. It all looked so easy when the mouse did the technical things. Maybe if she cheated a bit. Closing her eyes she pointed her wing at and spoke "Open!" A small flash emitted, and the panel started to glow, then made beeping noises as if all the buttons had been pressed at once, beeping faster and faster, rising in pitch. Dale stared at the glowing panel in awe. "Wowie!" The bat however darted and quickly flew down to where he was standing, half taking cover behind the chipmunk, half protecting him with her wing. "I think its not supposed to do that." she told him afraid, urging to get a bit more distance. Too late though. The panel exploded with sparks, sending the little number buttons across the aisle and all over the floor. Then the gate started moving sideways, slowly sliding open with a hiss. "I'm sorry, I broke it, I didn't want to..." Foxglove was scared at what she did, though Dale looked excited at both the carnage and the opening gate. "But, you did it! Its opening, look!" he told her, cheering, pointing at the sliding door. The inside of the giant hall on the other side showed chains and hooks or clawa hanging. One clamp after the other was dangling from a long conveyor from the ceiling, leading from one weird machine to the other. The room was completely laid out in spotless white tiles, shining in the moonlight that shone in from the roof. It was spotless, but there was a faint weird smell. A mixture of cleaning agent, blood and chicken poo. "Looks like there's nobody here though." Dale pointed out, walking in. "But where's Mathilda?" Mathilda was a chicken they were supposed to rescue. They had spoken to her when she had been caged on a truck, pleading for help. Then they had followed it to this weird building, but it had taken them until night till they had found a way in. "Shsh, I think I hear something." Foxglove turned her sensitive ears towards a hatch in the wall where the conveyor belt came from. Seconds later the two were climbing through the hatch, covered with a flap. On the other side Dale, too heard silent sobbing. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the twilight. The room held a huge cage. In it were chicken. Lots of chicken. Most were sleeping. The cage floor was a smooth ramp leading from a closed hatch high on the far wall to the lower part. From there on the floor itself was a conveyor belt, leading to the edge, where weird the same clamps they had seen on the ceiling reached out for the chicken's feet. Right now it was standing still, but a hand full of chicken were already caught in the clamps that had fastened around their feet. The sobbing came from one of them, unable to sleep in this uncomfortable position. It was Mathilda. "Hey, pssst. We are here to rescue you." Dale whispered across the room, darting to the cage bars. The sobbing stopped and Mathilda looked up to him, tears in her eyes. "You came, oh thank goodness, I thought I was gonna die." "What is this thing? Why are you all trapped in there?" Dale asked, looking for an door to get in and let the chicken out. But there didn't seem to be a way in or out, except where the conveyor belt with the weird claws left it. Mathilda didn't answer, she just started sobbing again. But a male chicken who had been awake slowly crept closer. "This place is a processing facility. They process chicken into food. If those claws catch you, they drag you over there where the little water pool is. It puts your head in the water upside down and then you die. Its under voltage. And then it drags you over there through the hatch and they turn you into chicken burgers or something. But not with me, I am dodging their claws, even if means I starve to death in here." He showed a nasty scratch on his legs. Apparently he had only barely been avoiding the clamps. Foxglove looked at his injury shocked, then over to Mathilda who was already caught in the claws. "How long are you in here?" "I lost track of time. I think three days or something I've been avoiding the clamps, day and night. They didn't ever stop. Your friend here came with the last batch today, she was barely here a couple minutes when she got caught. But then that thing turned off and the lights went out, just like that." Dale found a way to squeeze past the clamps where the conveyor left the cage. Just before it did that it apparently turned upside down, claws pointing downwards. Inside he had to climb down the cage bars to reach the floor. "Can't you just. I dunno, fly up here and squeeze out?" The rooster laughed with a rusty voice. "They clipped our wings. No chance. And if its turned on you'd not simply squeeze through there like you just did. These things don't stop." Foxglove, too squeezed through, hovering above the others before fluttering down to the lowest point, where Mathilda was. Dale was already examining the metal clamps that had closed around the chicken's clawed feet. "How do they open?" He tried pulling, but the metal was clenched so tightly it didn't even give a hair width. "They don't. When you walk over there, they go for your feet and then take you away" the rooster said. Dale looked at Foxglove helplessly. The bat had landed by now and was looking at the clamps as well. "I could try, but I don't know..." "Oh please, please, I don't wanna die!" the female chicken pleaded. Foxglove gulped, then stood back, concentrating, holding her wings towards the clamps. First she had her eyes closed, then she tried to glance through her clenched eyelids. For a second nothing happened, only the bat's stance became more heavy, as if she was bracing against a strong wind. Then suddenly all hell broke loose. Light flashed through the room, and a clattering humming noise sounded. A few chicken screamed, and the ground started to move, hurled them towards the clamps. Before they even knew what happened, metal clamps closed around both the rooster's, Dale's and Foxglove's feet and dragged them forward with force. The rooster was first to be hurled upside down and upwards, dangling from the conveyor belt towards the exit hole. Mathilda followed a split second later, screaming. Then Foxglove, and then Dale were hurled head down and pulled up. Foxglove was the only one who didn't completely loose orientation. It was her normal sleeping stance after all. The lights had turned on in the factory building and the entire machinery seemed to have come to live. The conveyor belts were running, and with a clattering sound, more and more of the chicken, awakened from their sleep rudely, were caught by the conveyor clamps. Unstoppable they were dragged, upside down, out of the cage and across the room towards the water bath. The rooster was first to reach it. He tried to bent as far as he could to not touch the dangerous water, but then the clamps lowered, dunking him in. Mathilda screamed again as she saw the fellow chicken stiffen and spasm from the electricity. "No!. It's killing him, it will kill all of us! Do something!" Little sparks danced across the water surface and over the roosters feathers, emitting the smell of ozone. He seemed to dance a weird electric dance as he was slowly dragged through. Foxglove blinked. She had been too shocked by what she had done to act so far, but she had to do something. Crying out she stretched her wings again and a lightning rod momentarily connected her hands with the electrified pool, seemingly adding more lightning to it. Her magic fused with the electricity in a weird way that hadn't exactly been her intention. The rooster made *pop* and a gust of feathers momentarily hid him from view. In it they heard a surprised high pitched chirp as he had turned into a little poult. But the sparks kept dancing, and a second later there was another pop sound. This time a frog dangled from the clamps. "Ribbit?" the rooster managed to say, before he popped again and again as lightning strikes kept dancing. He had been dragged almost all the way to the end of the pool, when he popped again, and turned out a chicken. Though a female one, his complaints now a lot more high pitched than before, as he was dragged out of the water, sputtering. "Hey, what happened to me? This feels. Hey! I'm a girl! What did you do?" Mathilda was the next to be dragged into the water. She too started dancing, but the magic made her giggle between the sputters, there was no pain. "What did you do?" Dale managed to ask the bat as they too were dragged closer and closer to the pool. "I don't know! I wanted it to stop killing, so it's doing other things now, I think..." She didn't get to finish her sentence. A second later the bat herself was dragged into the water. Sparks raced over her fur and made her twitch and scream from the tickling, then her head was dragged under water. Dale watched in awe as her fur suddenly changed. Feathers grew in all the places, covering her wings and body. Foxglove felt herself being rocked by her own magic, warped and amplified by electric overcharge. She felt herself change, grow wider and fluffy, and it felt weird between her legs, as if her cunny and her ass were suddenly merging and becoming one. And at the same time swollen and more agitated. Clenching, twitching, she couldn't hold her pee longer. Embarrassed she felt herself spurt a load out of her new orifice. A second later it trickled down her front, warm between her newly grown feathers and into the magic pool beyond. Only seconds later she was lifted out of the pool, her first words being "ba - gaaaawk?" - her snout had become a beak. She had become a chicken, too. Then she spotted Dale behind her being dragged into the water, protesting, sputtering, where she herself had just peed into the pool. But he also had a hard on between his legs - either from the experience or from seeing Foxglove transform. She couldn't stop watching the chipmunks member, as his fur too started sprouting feathers, his flailing arms becoming wings. But his chest grew larger and showed two significant bulges before they were covered by fluff. And his throbbing member shrunk and grew wide in front of her eyes, winking at her as it disappeared into a swollen, twitching opening just under the freshly grown chicken tail. Just like her own. She wondered what it would feel like to press and rub his chicken cunny against hers, like giving each other a kiss with those large mouth like sensual orifice. And somewhere from the back of her mind came the picture of herself laying eggs. Whole, big eggs, stretching her wide... Foxglove shuddered. Dale felt his teeth and lips fuse, unable to see because of the tickling, sparkling water all around, but he felt the changes to his body, his throbbing member shrink and shift, fuse with his tail hole until he had one big, pulsing, fleshy rim, while his precious orbs were dragged inside him, shifting, growing, turning into something else. Moaning he got water into his lungs and sputtered. But it didn't hurt, the electrified water just tickled from the inside, charged with Foxglove's witchcraft. Out of the pool they were dragged, and instead the other chicken dropped into it. It didn't change them as much, since they were chicken already, but the occasional fluke of magic switched some of their genders, or made them grow extra things. One chicken ended up with bat wings that looked a lot like fox gloves, two other ones suddenly sprouted a penis, that looked a lot like Dale's. None of them was hurt though. Dale and Foxglove didn't see that though. They had been busy staring at each others white, feather clad bodies, then they were dragged along the conveyor through the hatch in the wall, still hanging upside down, and into the other hall. "What happens now?" Dale asked the now female first chicken in the row. "I don't know." The former roosters new voice answered. She too tried to glance at the weird metallic machinery that was whirring and whooshing. The conveyor led down to one of them, slowly, a sort of rail. And down he went, his head tugged between the rails. Too late she spotted the two rotating blades and tried to lift his head. "Oh no! Nooooooo..." *shink* She jerked, and her head fell down, wide eyed, into a funnel. Her beak was bumping against the metal once, while the rest of her body jerked, sputtering blood unto the rail below. But she wasn't dead, that became clear as the chicken lowered - or rather rose, since she was still hanging upside down from the conveyor - her wing between her legs and started rubbing her private parts. Still jerking, still shuddering and sprinkling blood below. But not in death throes but rather very alive and awake. Yet Mathilda who was next wasn't too keen on being beheaded. Seeing what happened, she flexed and rose her neck above the blades, and so did Foxglove and Dale. After them however was a gap and not all the other chicken had seen what the rails were for, so quite some of them found out where the funnel lead first hand. It basically dropped all their head into a bin, where they could only twitch and stare at the other heads already in there, not able to see what happened to their bodies, but very much able to feel them, still dangling from the conveyor dragged to the next machine. First to arrive there was the now headless gender switched rooster. She had stopped bleeding, running out of blood, twitching in spasms and flapping her wings. She didn't see the huge machine that the conveyor led right through, nor did she hear the roaring inside. So the giant rotating brushes hit her totally by surprise, catching her feathers and ripping them out from all sides, as her body slowly was turned around. Mathilda didn't see what was going on inside as the conveyor shortly stopped before the machine was free for her. She closed her eyes as she was tugged through the opening, then screamed and laughed from inside . "Hey! Ouch! Hey that tickles. Ooooh. Ouch! Ooooh ... Bawk! Hey! Hihihihi..." Foxglove was next. She clenched, bracing for whatever was coming, but the powerful brushes still came at a surprise. They stuck to her newly grown feathers and ripped them out in bunches, the big ones first, which hurt a bit, but then as her fluffy dunes beyond were ripped, the ordeal turned into ticklish pleasure, her laughter echoing in the loud metal casing. Almost too soon it stopped, and the outside air washed cool over her stripped body. Her wings tiny and narrow now, unable to catch air, and her whole body pink and covered in goose bumps, from her neck down to - or rather up to - her privates and her legs. Twitching, looking up, she watched her own avian orifice clench and release, naked now. Dale had a similarly exciting ride and came out of the machine with little than a few single dunes left on his body. Foxglove and him stared at each other, in all their plucked chicken nudeness. "Oh boy, you look hot." Dale commented on Foxglove, who promptly blushed, unable to stop staring at the other chicken, very aware that they both looked like that now. She couldn't say why this was so sexy, but it was. Hanging upside down, her legs constrained, helpless and naked on a metal conveyor. The headless chickenified rooster meanwhile had reached the next machine, slightly shivering and with goose bumps all over. All he could see were other chicken heads, trying to speak to him, opening and closing their beaks, some of them trying to move around. Or try communicating by blinking their eyes. Every now and then a new head would fall into the bin, their face expression turning from shock to confusion, then usually to excitement. All of them were very alive, and though he couldn't ask them, he knew they were still feeling their bodies as well. Then he opened his beak in a silent gasp, feeling a cold sensation on his front, turning slicing hot for a split second as it pierced his skin, then cold again. A pulling sensation on his inside followed, almost as if going over the top of a roller coaster, as if everything was lifted. But it didn't stop, it kept pulling. Shuddering, twitching, clenching was all he could do, while his insides were lifted out, leaving him all empty and open. Mathilda screamed. More because she saw the blade coming and couldn't evade it than from actual pain. When it entered her plucked, naked body, she only looked confused, watching up as the weird machine grabbed her insides and pulled them out with a wet sucking noise. A gasp was the last she could do, then her lung was gone, and she saw her heart beat in the grasps of a metal claw. *Badumpbadumpbadump...* it was going fast, and she felt the touch of cold metal with every beat. Foxglove turned her head and closed her eyes, trying to bend away from the blade as far as possible. But of course that didn't help, she felt it cut her open all the same, gasping, moaning as the claw started pulling her insides. 'So much for laying eggs' she thought as she saw and felt a certain part of her being cut away. Then she, too got her lung and heart ripped out and a gurgling was all that was left of her excited scream. Shivering, twitching, the emptied chicken hung from her feet, feeling so much lighter now, while she felt her insides being dragged somewhere, then plucked apart and separated inside the machines own guts. Wondering where they'd go. But on the conveyor went, and it was Dale's turn to show that he had the guts for disembowelment. "Oh boy! Whooaaahhh*glk*" was what Foxglove heard behind her, shortly later the chickenified chipmunk left the machine, staring at his red open belly. Foxglove managed to catch a look inside, and inside he was so empty she could see his spine in the back. Dale seemed to try to speak, but with the beak he had grown she couldn't read his lips and so had no clue what he tried to say. The next station was pure pleasure. Strong streams of warm water were washing over them, warming their skin and their exposed insides, washing them inside out. Dale felt the water accumulate in his empty chest, and then when he opened his beak it poured out. He sputtered at first, then played with it, spitting the never ending stream from inside him in this and that direction, then at Foxglove who had already left the machine. She couldn't make any sound, but he was sure she was giggling. Dale thought Foxglove looked incredibly sexy with that cute red slit all across her belly, gaping empty inside, glistening wet and clean both inside and out,. He wished he could hug her, put his hand inside her and caress her firm breasts from both inside and out, climb inside her empty belly feel be carried around by her. The thought alone made his chicken crotch twitch and urge. But on the conveyor went, still holding them mercilessly. And then it forked. He wanted to scream as he saw that it took the headless one to the left, Mathilda went straight, and Foxglove went on a different conveyor to the right, then he went left again, following the headless ex-rooster. He stretched his skinny wings towards Foxglove, saw her return her longing glance, but the conveyor dragged them further, and soon other chicken, hollowed out like himself and many of them headless, were in between them and blocked the sight. The conveyor dragged him out of the big hall and into another room of the factory. It was a lot warmer there, and he suddenly smelled the taste of roasting chicken. His heart skipped a beat - somewhere elsewhere on a little tray, together with many other little chicken hearts. All of them twitching and bumping as if they were still inside their bodies. Dale watched the headless rooster in front of him. There was the familiar singing sound of rotating blades ahead. But not aimed at their necks this time, no this time they were aiming for the ankles. Just below the conveyor claws the blade cut through, and the rooster fell. Just below the blades was a waiting metal spike that aimed at the rooster's severed neck. But inside the rooster was hollow and the spit went right through, coming out his chicken crotch right under his tail between his chicken legs. Easily the rooster slid further down the spit until a spiked clamp held his shoulders. Dale saw the roosters wings flail and his legs kick, that was all he could do, then another spiked clamp was put on the spike and pressed down unto him, securing the chicken firmly from both sides. Now it was Dale's turn. He tried to grab on to something. His beak caught the end of the spit, but of course he couldn't stop the conveyor, it dragged him further and then he felt the rotating blades cut through his own legs, hot and cold at the same time. His feet cramped, trying desperately to hold on, and then he felt weightless, nothing to hold on but the metal rod in his beak. The aim was perfect. By the time he realized what was happening, gagging, he had already gulped down the spit a good few inches, sliding further. For a split second he felt the metal tip probe his crotch from the inside, push his rim outside, then it was sliding through. Surprised he clenched, but the smooth and cold metal slid through him easily, his own weight pulling him down. His tongue tasted the cold metal in his mouth. Then he had reached the metal clamp separating him from the headless rooster in front of him, only inches away, the chicken's thighs twitching left and right of his head. A second later he felt another metal clamp touch his exposed rear, squeezing him into the one in front of him gently but firmly. He was completely secured on the spit now, unable to do other movement but to twitch with his legs and wings. But doing so felt incredible, humping the spit that he was stuck on, feeling it tug his swollen rim every time, he kicked the air joyfully. His naked leg bones protruding where he no longer had feet, cleanly cut through the joint. Behind him the next chicken was secured in a similar way, then the entire spit with now three chicken on it swung sideways and into a rack of some sort, all three chicken kicking the air and sliding back and forth, enjoying themselves. ---- Mathilda went along the central conveyor, noticing that she suddenly was alone and up front. Behind her came another chicken. But she couldn't tell who it was. Without feathers and in this case without a head there was little way of telling. All she could do was look ahead at the next machine. It didn't sound good, there were blades again and a metallic sound like scissors. The first thing that came towards her was a claw with six fingers. Two of them grabbed her waist, two of them just under her ankles, while the remaining two grabbed her shoulders left and right of her neck. It didn't hurt, but it was a firm grip, making it impossible to move. Scared she glanced ahead, suddenly kicking her legs in hope to get out of the claws holding her feet. Two rotating blades aimed for her ankles just ahead, the same type that Dale had experienced. She closed her eyes, clenching her beak, but the sharp metal went through her joints in an instant and without pain. Suddenly free, her joints kicked the rotating blades from below. The metal felt cool. The last she saw of her feet, still twitching with her struggles, was when the conveyor claws dragged them out a slit at the top of the machine. But Mathilda wasn't free, the six fingered claw held her firmly and dragged her towards another weird looking installation, still holding her upside down. Little surprisingly her legs and wings fit exactly into four waiting clamps which grabbed her appendages before she could do anything. It also pulled them outwards to the point where it hurt a bit, twisting her limbs. It forced her to arch in a silent moan, stretching her neck and looking below, her crotch twitching. A set of funnels were below, like the one that had eaten her innards, and a number of ramps and conveyor belts. And she got a bad feeling about what the machine would do to her. And it did. It stretched her legs wide apart, her twitching crotch exposed and even stretched open from the pull. She thought any moments her joints would give and her legs would pop out. And then the clamps gave her legs a twisting pull and she felt exactly that happen, her legs coming loose and dangling, immobile, only on her skin and muscles. Twitching she arched, surprised at the unnatural wide angle she saw her own legs, standing out almost sideways. Then the blades came. It were two slightly curved pieces of metal, that slid along her waist upwards and backwards past her hip. It felt almost soothingly cool, releasing the tension from her overstretched thighs. She shuddered, arching, and then saw a shuddering pair of chicken legs dangling from each of the claws next to her. She flexed her legs instinctively as she saw the clamps dragging them further sideways, wanting to pull away from them, but of course her severed legs only twitched, dangling. Then the clamps released and her legs fell down into the waiting funnels. Mathilda gasped as she felt both her thighs slide down a cold metal ramp and land down there somewhere with a limp wet splotch, her flesh jiggling for a moment from the impact, like her wide ass had done when she had been spanked. But she couldn't see them anymore. For a second she looked up at her crotch. She looked weirdly pointy and narrow up there, her tail and underbelly no longer framed by her thighs. She could see through into her empty belly and back out through her twitching crotch, and suddenly hoped the machine would somehow penetrate her there, stuff something into her empty belly. But the machine didn't hear her hopes. With another twist it pulled her wings instead. Hopelessly she looked left and right over her overstretched shoulders, both her wrist caught firmly in the metal clamps. Searing hot the cold blades kissed her shoulders, left her shivering as they pulled through. Her fingers clasped the metal clamps as they pulled away, tried to hold on as the clamps let go of her wings. But she felt herself slip, and first one, then the other wing dropped out of her view, and her eyes followed her own outstretched hands, but she had nothing left to reach for them. She felt her shoulder hit something on the way down, then her elbow. Then her wings came to a rest on a metal surface somewhere below where she couldn't see. Looking up on herself she realized how immobile she had become, her stripped down body barely able to twitch apart from her neck and head. Whoever held her like that metal clamp currently did could do anything with her. The rim around her chicken crotch was twitching at that thought, it was the only thing she could do, but for the moment it was more than enough. If only someone or something could touch her there. This time the machine did hear her prayers. The claw holding her shifted and turned, holding her belly down so she could see down into the funnels. Deep down there was sort of a tray. One of her legs was on it, she could see the twitch when she tried to move it. How weird it looked, pink and detached. Just then the tray down there moved and brought a new empty compartment into view, ready to take -- another part. A whistling sound made her glance behind her and unto a rotating blade. She felt the cool wind it made under her tail, and as much as she feared it, she awaited it now. Away in another area of the room a single heart in a tray with a lot of chicken hearts suddenly bumped a lot faster and agitated. Trembling, her tail stretched upwards she wished she could touch herself. And then the blade touched her, sliced through her from back to front, splitting her tail, her back, her hip. Mathilda arched, clenching her now split apart nether lips against the rotating blade, kissing the cold metal from each side. It pulled her skin and vibrated as the blade cut further, through her back, slicing her spine lengthwise. Then it cut through her chest as well, slicing her neatly in half. The chicken rocked and shuddered, but now from the blades vibrations, her beak open in a silent ecstatic scream. Soon she felt the blade cut through the base of her neck. But it continued, went up all the way to the back of her head. Shivering she felt it slice her tongue from behind, and then the blade exited between her eyes, splitting her field of vision as it had split her whole body. When it retracted upwards and away the chicken had been cut in two equal halves, held together by the metal claw only, which still held Mathilda in position. Another set of blades came, and the chicken was moved again, one half of her left and the other right. It felt weird to have herself separated like that, her left eye seeing different things than her right. But at least the machine was doing the same thing to each of her halves. Another knife entered near her neck, and made a few shallow cuts around her side. Then her breasts came loose. Complete with skin and muscles. Two chunks of quality chicken chest meat dropped twitching, down into two waiting funnels and into the empty spots on a tray below. What was left of Mathilda was was little more than skin and bone, her empty insides visible through her bare bone ribcage. The clamp tugged what was left of Mathilda back to another funnel and dropped both of her halves in. For a split second her tail ends touched, giving each other a quick kiss in flyby. Then she landed at the tight bottom where something grabbed her in a tugging, grinding motions, pulling her in. Tail first she felt herself processed in a meat grinder, cutting and slicing first her tail and crotch then her back and sides further and further up. When only her split neck and head was left she felt her bottom end being mushed. Everything, skin, fat, muscle, bones, the machine made no difference, turned it all to a mushy paste and pressed it tightly into a confining space. At the same time she felt a swelling in her bellies insides. Insides that had been long gone and taken a different path, but now she was reunited with herself, but inside out. And as her head was crunched by the machine and her vision turned all red and mushy, she realized she was made into a sausage, made from her own intestines. Tighter and tighter the machine squished her into the tight confinement, until Mathilda finally left the machine. As a string of four tiny sausages, tightly packed and as immobile as only sausages could be. She couldn't even twitch. Though her thighs and wings, and breast, placed on the same tray could. They were flopping rhythmically and in spasms like a fish on the dry all the way along a conveyor to the packaging station. ---- Foxglove had a comparably short voyage. She too entered a machine where her feet were cut off, freeing her from the conveyor clamps. She was sliding backwards until she landed on a tray. Then a weird sort of clamp approached her, went for her belly and held her split belly open. Foxglove gasped as she saw a plastic baggy with red things in it approach, then the bag was lowered into her empty belly. It held a few innards. A bumping heart and what seemed to be liver and kidneys. She felt the latter to be her own, somehow glad to have them back. But what was a bit unsettling was that the heartbeat didn't match hers. It wasn't her own heart that twitched its excited chicken beat within her insides. What came next felt weird. A clamp approached her neck, intending to shove her severed neck into her chest cavity, like it had done with thousands of chicken before. Except this particular chicken had her head still attached. The clamp wasn't aware of that fact. It pushed anyway, squeezing Foxglove's entire head down until it made pop, and her neck bent inwards. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling as her throat was pushed inside out, then her head was trapped within her own body, making it impossible to see anything except a tight opening above her, a hole between her own shoulders. The tray moved, and a plastic cling wrap was tugged over it. Seconds later a sucking sound sucked all the air out of her confinement, pulling the cling tightly around Foxglove's chicken thighs and wings and against her crotch. The tray moved again, vertically this time. The chickenified bat twitched and shivered, rather enjoying this tight confinement, rubbing her swollen rim against the tight cling wrap. The suddenly it went cold. Very cold. Moisture condensed on the tiny bit of cling wrap visible through her neck hole, and then froze. Cold oozed through the plastic like tiny ice needles. The touch on her rim suddenly excitingly icy. Her crotch frozen against the plastic sheet, unable to separate. Further and further the cold crept through her body, turning her limbs ice cold and limp. And a weird soothing numbness crept through her body... ---- Dale had been humping the spit he was sitting on for a while. He had another chicken in front of him and another behind, but not much else to do. Chicken orgasms felt weird, especially when the parts of you that were cuming were elsewhere in a pile with other entrails. A while ago he had felt his feet being released from the clamps. Shortly later it had felt as if they had been smashed to goo, then mixed with a lot of other goo and squeezed into a tight confinement. His other insides felt weird too. Some of them had been smashed as well, but his heart felt weirdly cold for some reason, spreading uncomfortable coldness throughout his chest, even though it wasn't there, it still felt that way. He felt a lot warmer though, when the entire spit was lifted together with two others - three chicken each - and inserted into a rotating frame that had red hot glowing wires on one side. Both the spits and the frame were now slowly rotating, bringing him closer and further away again from the red hot metal. The heat radiation was intense, making his skin feel dry and tight. At one time a faint dust was released, covering all the chicken. It tasted salty and his nose tickled. Pepper? He couldn't sneeze but he had to. Dale's eyes shed tears, but it took a while until he managed to suppress the sneezing reflex that did nothing but twitched his empty chest cavity. The warmth from the outside countered the cold from within, then the warmth turned into heat. Hopelessly he flapped his naked wings and flexed his legs in hope to get some cool from the flowing air, but the little air that brushed his skin was as hot as himself. Suddenly he had the smell and taste of roasted chicken on his tongue. He licked his beak, not realizing at first that the smell and taste was coming from himself. But sure enough his skin slowly turned a crispy brown, and he felt his own meat juices melt and start flowing, tickling over and beneath his skin, then dripping down on the hot metal with a hiss. The other chicken didn't fare any different and his own delicious smell mixed with theirs. One headless bird on the spit next to him had both her wings tugged between her legs and was rubbing her slowly roasting crotch, her legs kicking in bliss. But soon enough her movements became less and less as her flesh cooked tenderly through. And so did Dale's. Soon enough he felt his wings cooked all the way through, his meat coming loose from the bone and itching. He urged for release, would have given a lot to be able to bend there and taste a big chunk of his own meat. But stuck on the spit he couldn't bend his neck, and he wasn't done yet. ---- Foxglove woke up. It was either less cold, or she felt it less. Her tray had relocated again, and her limps were all frozen solid, but the cold didn't spread anymore. No it even felt pleasantly warm inside her. It took her a while to realize it was her heart, even though it wasn't hers, bumping excitedly, almost radiating heat, warming her up from inside. Her legs and wings however she could barely feel and what she did feel was rock hard and solid frozen. I need to get out of here, she thought and tried to stretch her neck. A difficult thing since her head was stuck inside her chest. But she managed a twitch there and a little nudge there, using her beak to pull her own head out a bit more. Her neck felt all cramped from staying in the unnatural position. Only now did she realize that the machine must have broken her neck. But her muscles still worked, and eventually she squeezed her head out of the tight opening between her shoulders, beak first. That was when her beak touched the cold plastic wrapping. Closing her eyes she pushed, and after a short resistance the sheet gave way. The cold had made it brittle. The plastic split all the way over her body and let in a gust of fresh cold air. Foxglove shivered and tried to move her wings. Straining to stretch her head back out and into place. It staid crooked thanks to her broken neck, but now at least now she could move her head around and see. The room had a few trays with now frozen chicken stacked on a shelf, brought in from a conveyor. There was only dim light falling through where the conveyor came from. None of the chicken moved, they all had been frozen solid. But not all chicken where whole. Many had at least their heads missing completely, but a whole stack of trays only had bits. Wings, thighs, chicken breasts, some turned pointy and erect from the cold, then frozen solid in that position. Trays with sausages and containers with ground chicken meat. She wondered what it would feel like to be turned into that. Then again she felt immobile and helpless enough the way she was. She needed to get out of there, but here frozen solid limbs didn't want to respond. It took her ages and the help of a little spell to even lift her body and turn around, then pull herself forward with her wings, inch by inch. The conveyor was no longer running, and she managed to pull herself along upwards to the flap where the light came from. The other side of the room had a door, big enough to drive a forklift through, but it was closed shut. It didn't even seem to have a lock on this side. The room where the conveyor came from was even colder. The trays had been coming through a freezing machine. But here there was another exit. A door with a handle. A door that opened for her with another spell, letting warm air inside. A promising smell lead her into a certain direction, towards another room. Here it was hot, and her frozen limbs finally thawed. It smelled of delicious roasted chicken. At that moment the automated grill exchanged its contents, gold brown chicken slid of the spits, the metal rods sucked out of their necks and crotches one by one, and they were dropped unto waiting trays. Foxglove knew that that one chicken was Dale, even though he was cooked all the way through by now and not really recognizable. She just knew. And she also knew that the heart, beating hot and excited in her chest, trapped in a little plastic bag, was his. He had kept her warm. Dale only noticed the lone chicken, barely able to walk on her leg stumps, after he had been placed on the tray. Yet he recognized Foxglove on the spot and his roasted body twitched as he tried to move towards her. But twitch was was all he could do and even that was much. The conveyor dragged the tray with Dale on it right past Foxglove, and she tried her best to drag him of. With both wings and her beak she pulled on Dale's tenderly roasted wing. Dale moved an inch, but then his wing just came of. Foxglove couldn't resist the delicious taste in her beak, she had to chew a tiny bit of her favorite chipmunk. The latter wasn't sure whether to be outraged or incredibly turned on by Foxglove eating him. He realized he wouldn't mind if she ate every last bit of him. But that wasn't supposed to happen. She stopped as soon as she felt the tiny bit of Dale dangling from the inside of her throat into her empty insides after she had swallowed. They both needed to get their bodies back - and whole. For that she had to drag the roasted and immobile chicken on her leg stumps all the way to the first room, where the magic electrified pool still sparkled. Together with him she let herself drop into the electrified pool, felt the sparkling water sweep over both of them with sparks and zapping sounds. Lights danced over the inside of her closed eyes while she felt her body stretch and contort, things move out of her and other things regrow. By the time she came to herself she was resting, wet, on the rim of the pool. The magic charge had thrown both of them out. The empty plastic bag that had held their innards was still drifting in the pool, and the faint smell of roasted chicken was still prominent in Dale's fur, but the chipmunk was a chipmunk again, and Foxgloves bat wing wrapped around him protectively. Gently she gave him a kiss. "Oh, I'm so glad you are OK. But we need to do something, Mathilda, she is ... the machine took her all apart, and the other chickens. It's all my fault." Foxglove had one of her self blame moments again, but Dale cheered her up. "No, you saved them all. None of them was hurt, this even was fun!" Dale paused, and in his face Foxglove could see he had an ingenious idea "Oh boy, we need to get Gadget and Chip, the whole team, they have to see this and try this out too, come lets get them before it gets day again..." Stunned the Bat looked after Dale, then back up to the now still conveyor, blushing at the thought of doing the whole ride again, together with the others, maybe it'd be her time to roast, or be cut apart... "Dale, wait for me ..." she yelled after him, then flapped her wings and followed flying.