… Gilda wobbled on the cool tile below her paws, the strange magic holding her up as she felt her talons and arms twisted back behind her. Her hips had locked in place with her spine, keeping her bent in a right angle with her knees, grunting as she struggled to keep from pitching over. The griffon’s arms were fusing with her torso down to her elbows and stretching out further behind her, turning stiff and rigid as rich mahogany wood grain spread over them.
 
She should never have picked them up… two wooden spheres found lying in the shadows. Who knows who left them there, but moment they were both in her talons the curse activated. She couldn’t let them go, stuck to her talons as if they were glued, and now the magic was spreading!
 
The griffoness grunted as she felt a strange itch, deep red upholstery was spreading up over her frame, plush and plump with stuffing and seeming to tack itself onto her and up her chest. Her wings were wrenched out in front and twisted unnaturally, feathers thinning away into ornately carved wood with a red cushion along them. With a wooden pop and a yelp she falls backward onto her rigid talons, forced into a position that had her now sitting back much like a chair would rest on the floor.
 
She groans as her legs begin to succumb to the magic, one before the other, curved and rigid in the encroaching mahogany down to her paws. The feeling of the floor beneath her muted as her paw pads bulged outward into a sphere similar to those held in her talons, now gripped by carved wooden claws. Gilda flexes her free paw in a last bid to halt the inevitable, but it too falls to the powerful spell imbued into the wooden artefacts as her tail thrashes wildly and shrinks away beneath her new seat.
 
Her neck pops and freezes, sinking back into the wood of the backrest her chest had become. The griffon’s breath was gone, flattened away with the wood and upholstery, lest she would be calling for help. The cloth crept upward over her beak, sealing it shut behind its fibers before covering her face entirely— the rest of her feathers lost to wood as any traces of her head vanish into the chair.
 
The wood creaks lightly as her body settles and completes its final move into inanimate form. Her vision was somehow preserved, albeit blurred behind the red cloth of her upholstery… and a sense of muted touch and sound remained as well. Try as she might there was no way to move or signal any pony of her predicament.
 
She sat there for what felt like hours, alone in her thoughts before a servant pony came by, stopping to examine her closely.
 
“… how did a dining chair get out here?” He glances around. “Best put it where it belongs in the dining hall before anyone notices and I get blamed!” He mutters, picking up the chair in his pale blue hue of magic and carrying it off alongside him.
 

 
A quick drawing I did for fun, no explanation needed. XD