Go through the low doorway

You duck under the faded lintel and step into a long, narrow chamber. It's only about eight feet wide, but you can barely see the other end in the torchlight. You try to guess at its original purpose but eventually you have to give up. Whatever this place is it wasn't meant to store food or treasure. There isn't space for a feast and no rooms lead off from the chamber.

You walk towards the only other exit, directly opposite the door you entered through. As you walk you start to feel a tingling all over your skin but laugh it off. There may be a portcullis blocking your path back to the surface but you're an adventurer! You wouldn't have come down here if you weren't ready for anything.

The tingling gets stronger and you start to wonder about the old stories. Maybe this is some latent magic. Then you square your shoulders and press on. Stories about wizards always go on about how hard it is to make permanent spells or enchantments. Even if this was once some kind of spell you bet it fell apart long ago - this is like walking through the shredded remnants of tapestries and curtains.

You reach the other door. It's fitted into a low doorway identical to the one you entered by. There's a definite hum in the air that you're trying to ignore. 'At least it's not locked' you think, grabbing the tarnished handle.

The door flies open and a strong wind picks you up and launches you through it. It feels like bolts of static zap from the door frame to you and vice versa. Your limbs go numb and it takes all your coordination not to slam face first into the rocky wall opposite the door. You turn just as the wind cuts off and the door slams shut.

You push on the door and find that it refuses to budge. Above, there is some faded writing on the lintel and it's glowing green faintly. A little unhappy at having been trapped once again you reach for your dropped torch. That's when you notice your arm is a bit less hairy than before, your clothes a little tighter around your chest and a little looser around your waist.

Your sense of touch is still a bit iffy from all that static. You close your eyes and slide a hand inside your pants. Where there should be a cock and some balls to scratch or rearrange you find only a patch of fine hair and a soft slit.

Opening your eyes again you see three short rocky tunnels. Each ends with a hole in the floor and before each hole a symbol, just like the symbols you saw before: The images of females, monsters and the vine-like thing. It feels like a very different choice this time. You think you hear laughter and heavy breathing but you can't tell which holes the noises are coming from.