The slime is warm against your skin, almost burning as it covers you. You don’t get why it doesn’t hurt, why it feels so much better than the chill of the surrounding halls. Fur and scales start to emerge from the sludge, slow at first but starting to do so faster as you just try to breathe through your disorientation.
A tail pushes down from your accurately named tailbone while your face grows more into a short muzzle, followed by pointed ears and slightly curved horns. Your fingers become some sort of hybrid with paws, thick fur sprouting around your neck like a mane of fire, so very warm compared to the halls you’ve wandered.