"Do you know why little chickens like you get filled with stuffing?" Don Corneo asked as pushed another huge clod of stuffing inside his trapped trespasser. "To make the meat go further." He laughed cruelly. "But you don't seem to be going anywhere at all!"
A few handfuls more and Cloud was packed so tightly that he could barely move. His torso was swollen, lifting his broken drumsticks and naked wings off the tabletop, which waggled helplessly in the air. He tried to calm his terrified, eratic thoughts; to formulate a plan; but the growing realization that he was truly trapped in this form and the terrible sensation of being filled to bursting were almost too much to bear.
"It's quite pathetic really. I'm sure in life you were a great man: handsome, brave, strong... And now you don't even have the strength to crawl away."
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