You shout as the vines grip onto your legs, twining around them and trying to drag you down, back to the gardens. Yet you struggle as much as you can, pulling the vines away and ripping the goo away, trying to return to the doorway, away from this place. Even with every bit you rip off, more returns, and you can't keep doing this forever.
Your shout turns to a squeal as a vine melts into your shorts, spreading across your legs and up your back. You kick at it, even if its no use, even as a second form starts to melt into being, limbs gripping onto your wrists and twisting vines changing to lashing tails. A muzzle presses against the one forming on your own face, forming into a wide grin as it coos down at you with utter delight at your rapidly changing body.
It seems happy to have a friend, even if you're hesitant to do much of anything as it pulls you to you're paws. You suppose you'll just have to see what's going to happen next...