She hadn’t expected any sort of magical security to be enchanted on the store… after all, it was just some stuffy antiques store run by a strange looking old crystal pony in Canterlot, hidden deep in the darker alleys of the Old Quarter. All sorts of books, strange knick-knacks, and bric-a-brac from all over Equestria were in there, and there was no way that old geezer could have kept track of it all. Without even thinking Gilda had given in to one of her impulses, surreptitiously reaching out with a talon to swipe the nearest little trinket and tuck it up under her wing to take home as a quaint and curious trophy… but as her talon came near the item, she felt herself hesitating, a strange shuddering shiver creeping up her form and ruffling both feathers and fur.

“W-wha…” Gilda gasped softly as a woozy dizziness swam into her head, breath caught in her chest.

Wobbling in place on her paws, she felt a sudden, encompassing emptiness taking over her belly and chest, like an exhalation of breath she couldn’t control. Sharp pinpricks flicked across her skin, visible through the fur on her hind paws, the griffoness squirming in place as she flexed her toes, trying to rid herself of the sensation.

“Awk! Wha… I don’t…” Gilda’s eyes widened as she looked down in fright, just in time to see stiches as the formed along either edge of her paws, as though an invisible seamstress were sewing through her fur. At that very moment a magical force pressed down on her vulnerable paws, feeling like she’d started to be fed through an unseen roller, paws going limp at the toes and flattening out unnaturally.

Gilda jumped in place, flapping her wings but finding her energy to resist becoming a struggle. Her paws flopped limp against the floor as her hind legs gave out, her tail now caught in the magical effect of this mysterious curse, stitching up and squeezing her tail and limbs into flat, fabric lined pelt. The griffoness groaned, the tremendous sensation of magical force compressing her body sending shivers up her spine, and though every instinct screamed out in terror, she couldn’t help but feel a squirming shudder of something a little bit more, captivated by the sudden helplessness of this curse as it moved up over her haunches, squeezing, caressing, and sending the trapped griffon into a flustered mess of emotions, pleasure mixed with flight.

She felt her breath leave her entirely as her belly flopped down, flattened by the invisible rollers while the stitches marched onward, one last desperate flap of her wings before they too succumbed, sending her down entirely to the floor with a breathless flop. She squirmed her talons, gripping at the floor to try and get away as her beak was wedged open by unseen force, jaw creaking and solidifying as a fluffiness crept into the back of her throat, like fibrous stuffing, before filling her head.

Deep red blush shone bright upon the desperate bird’s face, quivering, and twitching with denied need and will to escape, her eyes darting around quickly for any source of aid as her last talon was rolled out flat, still, and stitched. Unable to move even an inch, she felt every bit of herself pressed flat against the cool stone floor of the shop, body refusing to respond to any of her commands. A gentle tickle fluttered over one of her paws as something conjured around a toe… a tag with a price, not that she could see it, dictating just what she’d become and what it would take for any curious shopper to have her.
Her eyes soon settled forward, glossing over into inanimate glass and locking her gaze straight ahead… mind reeling and trying to process just what had happened to her, and hoping that she’d be found, be recognized, be turned back!

But she’d tripped quite a curious curse… one sometimes employed by unscrupulous shop keepers which detects the mere intent of theft and acts to remedy the situation before anything is even taken. Magic that incorporates the would-be thief into the stock of the store itself and casts its permanent memory enchantment upon the hapless victim.

Even if she were found by a friend who knew her, their memories would instantly shift, any thought of the griffoness from before being replaced by the rug she’d become. An instant familiarity with the item, and of course, one which usually prompts that friend to want to buy them immediately. Leaving the shop keeper paid, the customer satisfied, and the rug…?

Well, it will eventually get used to its new life of being under-hoof.

Maybe after a few years~