You squeak as the goo covers your head, hand reaching up to try and push it away. Not that it helps, simply smearing the slime across your hair. It covers your ears, smothering your hearing before your ears shift and stretch into a different shape.
Another squeak escapes your maw, face being stretched into a squished muzzle as you pull at the sludge, desperation turning halfhearted the more it spreads. It’s… so warm compared to your surroundings, almost like a hug.
Wings push out of your back, squirming and flapping desperately for freedom as you rub at your face in confusion and shock. Is it really that bad, being one of the creatures here? It doesn’t feel bad, now that you’re one of them. Perhaps it’ll be safer here too.