A small green letter was thrust through the mail slot by some unseen pony in the early morning, alerting a rather sleepy unicorn to its presence by the clatter of metal on wood as the flap swung to and fro.
 
Indeed, Lyra thought it was a bit odd for the mail to be delivered barely after sun-up, here she was barely finished with her morning tea and already getting up to investigate mail. She was just glad the noisy carrier hadn’t woken her still sleeping partner in the other room, she mused as she walked quietly to pick up the small note and flip it open.
 
“I request your presence at Carousel Boutique. Please come immediately. Sincerely, Rarity.” She read softly to herself, puzzling at the oddity of the dressmaker’s desires. But, she did consider the mare to be somewhat of a friend, and in the spirit of kindness she finished her tea quickly and went out the door. Surely Rarity had just gotten herself into some sort of bind with deadlines again, as she often did.
 
The Boutique had an unusual air about it when she arrived… the mint green unicorn noted almost an ominous aura of foreboding around the place as a magic charge seemed to linger and tingle through her horn when she paid attention to it. Stepping inside to the soft ring of a bell, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to an uncharacteristically dim boutique around her.
 
“Rarity…? Good morning Rarity! You in here?” She calls out into the shop, hoping to catch sight of the mare. “I got your letter.”
 
Lyra was reward by the sight of Rarity quickly shuffling out of an adjoining room, but inwardly reeled back at the sight of her. She was indeed quite frazzled, mane all a mess and her eyes seemed sunken… greenish.
 
“Ah! Darling! Thank you, thank you for coming so quickly!” Rarity exclaims, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I used up all my dress forms and that simply wouldn’t do, no it wouldn’t, in the process of making so many BEAUTIFUL things and can’t have any delays!” She tuts, looking Lyra up and down, a strange green glow of magic creeping from her horn and hovering a measuring tape about her as if taking measurements.
 
“Oh! Okay, I see there ah… Rarity. Say, are you alright? You seem a little bit tired?” Lyra asks concernedly. “I mean, I’m willing to help in any w-“ She was promptly cut off my the dressmaker’s hoof being shoved rudely over her mouth.
 
“Shhhh! Dear, Rarity needs to concentrate now.” The mare says, hovering an ornately bound book nearby and flipping through it. “Let’s see… Ah, yes, that’s the spell. Silly me. Now don’t move darling.” She orders, horn and eyes both flaring brightly with a green aura, encompassing Lyra and seeming to lift her up from the ground.
 
“Um… Um! Rarity, just what are you doing? I thought you had some dresses for me to try on or something like that?” Lyra asks with an increasing tone of worry coming over her voice, not yet noticing a tingle beginning to start across her limbs.
 
“Well you see dear, I haven’t made them yet! But it won’t be long, and you’re just the thing I need. Don’t fret, my creations will make you absolutely stunning- for quite some time to come!”
 
Rarity’s horn flares even more as a stiffness starts to spread over Lyra, her limbs turning sluggish and difficult to move. “Aaah… w-what’s going on, Rarity…? Rarity!?” She exclaims, looking down through the greenish haze to see and feel her hind legs stretching out against her will, turning slender as the colour drains out. Rapidly she felt herself more and more paralysed, everything from her waist down now no matter how she tried or forced, she was unable to make her hind limbs comply. The mare’s eyes widen as she sees her fur give way to a dense fabric-like texture, breath catching in her chest too as with an audible pop her tail wholly removes itself from her body as if attached by merely a metal clip before.
 
“Mmm, going along nicely dear.” Rarity assures, somewhat distracted by a new page in her book and a number of cloth swatches and thread that floated nearby.
 
Lyra lets out a loud and frightened groan, forehooves flailing to get the dressmaker’s attention. “RARITY! S-stop the spell! Stop! T-this isn’t right, stop! PLEASE!” She pleads, a new level of fright taking hold as a metal pole on a base rushes up in the magic hue, forcefully ramming into her stomach. She flinches as if expecting impalement, but finds no such sensation, rather just a rigid clank as she’s dropped down to the floor with a wobble, now strung up atop the base like a carousel horse on a pole.
 
“Gnnnn… a-ah… P-please Rarity!” She tries once more to hoof at the mare, but finds her forelimbs now suffering a similar fate to her hind, stretched out forcefully in that dread magic hue and succumbed to the encroaching fabric, now leaving naught but her head remaining atop her dress-formish body. “Rarity! RARITY! The spelllggmnnph… gmmn! Mmmnnn!” She attempts to say, but impeded as invisible stitches cross across her mouth, forcing and fusing it shut and trapping her words.
 
Rarity glances up once more, a devilish look upon her face as she stares into Lyra’s pleading eyes. “Come along now, finish up, Rarity hasn’t got all day!” She demands, reaching a hoof up to pop Lyra’s mane and horn off just as had been done with her tail.
 
“Mnn…” Lyra mumbles one last time, her voice disappearing with her lungs as the fabric covered her completely. A warm fuzzy feeling filled her from within as the stuffing found its way in place of her core, vision now turning hazy as the beige fabric she was covered in smoothed over her face, now showing little if any distinguishing features. She felt the scrape on the floor as she was slid off to the side of the room by Rarity, eyes permanently locked forward and blurred through the fabric, the ability to see, however blurrily, being a small consolation as she sat perched on the pole, unable to move even a fraction as the dressmaker sets about throwing together a beautiful dress upon her, almost out of thin air.
 
“Red? No… green? No, actually…” Rarity ponders, tapping a hoof on the dress-form’s side in thought. “Gold! Oh yes, gold, that’s the ticket. Gold always does the trick!” Lyra heard her say, hearing muffled as if her ears were stuffed with cotton.
 
But almost as quickly as it had happened, a new thought must have crossed her mind as she turns to look out the window, hopping off in glee with her gleaming book in tow, leaving the new dress-form alone and forgotten, with a half-finished dress draped across her, alone to her thoughts… hoping somepony might find her, and that somepony might know to save her.
 
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A transformation and mini-fic inspired by some recent art and a dream I had the other day. -Icaron