A dark room, completely dark save the slivers of evening daylight that managed to pierce the sanctuary of shadow through the thick black light-blocking curtains is where it all begins. This room, this simple ten-by-ten man-cave is where the most unassuming of all people resides.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Click.* The irritating high-pitched squeals of the glowing blue digital alarm are silenced swiftly and accurately with a fierce middle finger stabbing the small power button on the top with instinctive ease, and the massive hill under the blankets groans in dissatisfaction at being roused from it's dark, dreamless bliss.

“No...I don't wanna....” A deep, inherently loud voice mumbles, only to sigh and lift itself out of the bed, swinging legs over the side, easily avoiding the keyboard, mouse, tv remote, and gamepad all sitting precariously on the corner of the old queen-size bed with practiced lumbering grace.

Upon opening the door into the rest of the two-story house, the young man growls in irritation at the sunlight still lighting the empty home, hurting his eyes. “Damn sun...hate it....” It's literally only a few steps to the left to enter the ground-floor bathroom, and the young man lazily looks at himself in the mirror.

He's an overweight Caucasian man with long dirty-blond hair and dark blue eyes surrounded by dark rings courtesy of his nocturnal lifestyle and lack of sleep. His features would have been soft and gentle were it not for the natural frown marring his big mouth, and the scratchy full beard he sported from his hairline down his cheeks and all the way down his neck. He idly considered shaving today, before dismissing it as usual and going about his business.

After that, and feeding his three cats and three dogs, does the man return to his room to slump back onto the bed, sigh, and tap the power button on his keyboard, turning his gaming computer on, and then using the remote on the tv. For nearly four hours, all he does is play games, read, and watch random videos.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Click.* Sigh...second alarm dutifully warns him of his last hour of freedom before having to go back to his soul-crushing graveyard shift at a retail super chain that couldn't care less about him. “Don't want to work....ugh....” He spends the hour making breakfast, and taking several vitamins to compensate his lifestyle's lack of nutrition, before getting dressed in his army green cargo pants with too many pockets, bright orange “All-Mart” shirt and matching dark orange vest with the name Robinson on the left breast. He finishes off with a black pair of steel-toe work boots that he uses to compensate his inherent clumsiness in stubbing his toes, and for safety reasons.

“Ugh...over ten pounds of equipment for a crap job.” Mr. Robinson puts his wallet, smartphone, van keys, emergency sewing kit, spare button, and his box cutter all in strategic pockets for convenience and quick access, before he approaches his front door, which was actually on the side of the house, as the front door was actually a wrought-iron gate in the wall separating his side yard from the front yard. “Is it so much to ask for something new to...hap...shit.”

When Mr. Robinson opened his front door, he got a very big surprise. Instead of his filthy, junk-littered side yard lit by glorious moonlight or the nearby streetlight, he got a darkened all-wood interior entirely lit by moonlight through a few small round windows.

Being a rational, and completely overtly-calm person to intense situations, Mr. Robinson quite calmly closed the door, counted to three, and opened it again. When he saw the same result. He slammed it. “Nope! No! Not dealing with this!” He decided to test his “back door” which was really just a sliding glass door into the same yard, but from the patio. His cats all dodged him as he rushed the ten or so feet between doors and unlocked it, sliding it open to sigh in relief at the sight of the overflowing crowded work-space filled with random tools, pipes, and other junk his old father left lying around and never cleaned up even though he rarely did anything with the space. “Okay, let's just get...crap.”

Mr. Robinson just remembered; the sliding door cannot be locked from the outside. Not being one to take chances, he grumbled as he returned to the inside, closing the door and locking it with a sigh. His parents were out of town a couple states over, visiting his sister again. He took responsibility seriously, and this was his home too, so he wasn't going to leave it open for invaders, he had pets to protect! “So back door's out...ugh...I'll have to manually unlatch the garage door.”

Said door's electric opener had been without a working remote for years, and as such the family made due without out of habit. Being six-feet and three inches, as well as one of the strongest people he knew, it wasn't much an issue for Mr. Robinson to manually open and close the heavy door. He'd have to electrically open it first to set the latch in place for manual release however.

Crossing the house to the literal crossroads of his room, the bathroom, and the garage, he went left into the garage, and habitually hit the switch as he turned on the lights. The sight that greeted him however, was not his ugly old white camper van in the drive. Rather...it was a scenic sight that seemed to be from the side of a mountain, steeply overlooking a grand landscape of rolling plains, forests and what seemed to be a town in the distance.

“Oh...gog....” Mr. Robinson, seeing the garage as being an even more unfeasible means of escaping his home to head to work, pressed the button, and closed the door. Valiantly, he managed to remain calm as he turned the lights back off, and entered his home again. “Okay...okay...impossibly...no, no; those eggheads in the universities are always saying stuff like this is possible. So; improbably...my front door and garage door are now linked to alternate entrances and exits rather than their original simple locations in local space-time. I need to....” Mr. Robinson looked at the old clock above his parent's old television. “Crap...I'd be late if I left now anyway. I'll call out.”

Mr. Robinson called the 800 number for employees, and after a short automated process, Mr. Robinson was connected to his place of work, where he spoke shortly with his manager, who was quite displeased with Mr. Robinson's sudden case of “the runs” which he had a doctor's note to excuse as irritable bowel syndrome. He wasn't proud of it, but this was a serious issue that could not be verbally or even visually explained, so he had to lie, which always left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Once the call was over, Mr. Robinson neurotically rechecked the front and garage doors to confirm that, yes, they were still leading to the same places as before, that they should not be anyway. To further confirm his paranoia, he also checked all the other doors in his home. Quite distressingly, simply by pressing his ear to them he could tell; almost all doors besides the sliding glass door, his bedroom door, and his personal bathroom's door led someplace else. To ensure this stayed the same, he immediately removed his bedroom and bathroom doors by the hinges to try and feel a bit more secure in what was once his safe and simple home.

The “pet pantry” door next to his bathroom now opened into a deep and dark forest, which he promptly slammed shut, and pulled one of the shorter chairs in from outside under the knob to vainly hope nothing would come in. Thankfully however; he'd been too lazy to store his pet's canned food in the small former closet after his parents left yesterday, so they still had some food to live off of besides the bags of dry, which were now gone with the closet having been turned into a doorway to the wilds.

The crawlspace was similar, but wasn't nearly as foreboding. It opened to a view of a moonlit dirt desert, a familiar sight to the Mohave resident. This house was in Vegas after all, such a sight was practically soothing in this madness, but he still closed and locked the door with the originally poorly-chosen knob. He suddenly growled in anger; almost all his old VHS tapes were in that crawlspace!

His parent's bedroom upstairs was garnering plenty of attention from his three dogs, the two rat terriers Cuddles and Violet and the chihuahua Klingon were all scratching at it and whimpering. They often did this when his parent's were gone, but to be safe he ushered them all downstairs and used a baby gate to keep them out. He made sure none of the cats were upstairs before he slapped himself for his stupidity; he forgot his screwdrivers!

“And my kukri, need that too.” Mr. Robinson carefully stepped over the gate with his long legs, and got his screwdrivers, kukri, and hunting knife, each holstered to his belt loops...before thinking over it a second and grabbing his brother's gifted sword. It was a straight-edged stainless steel mass-produced piece of junk, but it was a sharp and surprisingly well-balanced weapon. He felt it's hand-wrapped cord was a necessary comfort as he unsheathed it, and opened the door, poised to stab since he felt paranoid about this door.

It opened to a surprisingly idyllic scene of a small cottage on the edge of some woods. It was hard to make out in the dark of night, but it seemed to be heavily decorated with bird houses and-. *ROAR!* A FUCKING LION JUST POPPED UP AND ROARED AT HIM! “AH~!” In a knee-jerk reaction, Mr. Robinson stabbed forward with the little sword skill he acquired from self-training and manuals with his eyes closed.

Because his eyes were closed, he didn't see the blade getting longer and generally bigger as it breached the threshold of the mysterious portal, stabbing clean into the beast's cheek, getting a yowl of pain before it turned and sprinted off with pathetic mewls of pain. Mr. Robinson pulled the sword back in, and opened his eyes. The sword was normal again and he noticed nothing aside from the fleeing lion's shape in the dark.

“Oh my gog! That was...that was a fucking novel experience!” He noticed the blood on the tip of his blade, glad he'd grabbed his brother's old sword rather than the cheaper curved one, as it would've been too short to reach. He quickly and skillfully flipped the knob so the lock was on the inside, and slammed the door before locking it...whatever comfort one and a half inches of corkboard could afford him against something like that anyhow....

“I knew I should've bought a gun....” Mr. Robinson bemoaned as he sighed, there were three more doors to check and knobs to flip.

The upstairs bath made him fall back in a gasp of horror, as it seemed to be literally in the air with the ground far, far below. The dead dark of night making it seem like a void in spite of the silvery clouds between the opening and the land below. Easily crumpling and giving in to his acrophobia, Mr. Robinson hyperventilated as he crawled away from the door of death, and whimpered for several minutes as the winds outside the door howled, before pulling on the door and slamming it shut to his relief.

Bad door. Death door. No touch.

He crawled pathetically down the stairs, knocked down the baby gate, and curled into a fetal position as his dogs all huddled around him, trying to comfort their panicking caretaker.

After about twenty minutes of recovery and crying as he hugged Cuddles; the old boy loved him so much, he got back up. Still two more doors to check, but if the next one opened into a pit of vipers or something so help him; he's condemning this place!

The guest room opened up into a frozen wasteland. To Mr. Robinson's viewpoint; it was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. If he was more adventurous or daring, he'd have even gone through to enjoy the freezing cold he only got to experience once before in his life on the east coast, but sighed before flipping the knob and locking the door.

He turned left to the last door; his father's office.

Really, with his father's multiple strokes and his complete lack of business ethic, it wasn't so much his office as it was a hideaway where his old man could pretend to be decades younger than he was, trying to ply his so-called trade in precious metals. All they ever got out of it was a safe filled with useless silver and gold coins that were more trouble than they were worth.

He really hoped against hope his suspicions weren't true and the room was untouched as he opened it, only to groan at seeing it open into a dark cave barely lit by glowing mushrooms and oddly luminescent gemstones. “If it's not lions, it's heights, and if not heights; dark spooky caves. What went wrong with my life?”

Mr. Robinson wasted no time in flipping the knob and locking the door. His paranoia and rather good nightvision was telling him something was watching him in there, and he didn't want to know what.

After all that stress, and the panic attack, Mr. Robinson decided he needed a good, long, moonlit break. He grabbed his SD3, went out the patio door, and began a couple hours of solid gaming in his favorite easy chair under the moon.

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“Damn it....” Mr. Robinson growled as he snapped his handheld game system shut for failing to capture a legendary creature for the fifth time in a row. “I'll have to level up more...again.” He sighed as he looked up at the full moon. It was a Mega Moon tonight, being closer to the earth on it's elliptical orbit, making the pale silver orb gloriously big. Mr. Robinson grinned as his concerns seemed to melt away at the sight of his favorite celestial body. “Ah, Luna...you grace us unworthy ants with your beauty once more.”

Mr. Robinson was nocturnal, mostly by choice, but also by lack of employment opportunity. Pretty much any day job he applied for turned him down, so he'd been stuck working for All-Mart for years as their graveyard slave. The only solace was he hated the sun, bright lights in general, crowds, and people in general. So, really, being nocturnal was the natural choice. Only anti-social crazies like him enjoyed the night like this; alone, peaceful, looking at a buxom naked woman in his patio doorway-WHAT THE FUCK?! “AH!” Mr. Robinson yelped in a rather unmanly fashion considering his deep voice and fell backwards.

“Hey! Are you okay?” The woman's voice was surprisingly high-pitched and squeaky in an adorable fashion, but that didn't matter to him as he jumped to his feet and drew his knife.

“Who are you?! What're you doing in my house!?” He demanded loudly as he approached, knife pulled back slightly for a lunge if necessary. The woman was clearly frightened as she gasped and tried to back away, but yelped as she tripped over her own legs, falling to the tile floor of his dining room with a grunt. He couldn't help but notice her head-sized chest melons wobbling and quaking like jello. For some reason, he felt such a description would be a compliment to her.

“Oh~! This weird body is so imbalanced! I mean, why do these things have to be here?” She asked as she sat up, and began massaging her big pale pink mams, her pink nipples getting erect from the stimulation. Mr. Robinson quickly looked away, his mom didn't raise a neanderthal.

“M-ma'am I need to ask you to leave and...stop doing that in my dining room....” 'Oh gog this is nerve wracking! If she was a dude I'd just knock him out and call the cops, but she's a woman and women are to be respected, and treated properly....' Mr. Robinson sighed before he sheathed his knife, and took off his 4X store-issued vest to throw at her without looking. “P-put that on! You're indecent!”

“How? I'm not flashing you my pussy am I?” The dull woman asked, which he grit his teeth with a blush at, trying in vain to ignore that she WAS with her wide hips and healthy thick thighs leaving her groin visible!

“YES! Now put it on!” Mr. Robinson demanded as he kept his gaze away yet kept her in peripheral. He looked back to her when he heard her zip it up, and had to fight a boner; it made it worse!

“How is it?” She asked curiously, her huge mams actually filling the large vest that could accommodate his girth easily in the chest, making it hang over her trim waist, just further accentuating the size of her breasts and drawing even more attention to her shapely lower body. And that wasn't mentioning the cleavage either, or that her huge nipples were poking through the polyester fabric.

“J-just! Get out! Out!” He shouted, getting her to cringe and he finally noticed her hair when it seemed to lose volume. It was.... “Pink? And curlier than Aunt Jessie?” He blinked, and then backed away warily. “What door did you come in through?”

“Uh, the library's closet door; duh?” She replied smartly, this weird guy was a real meanie-pants, which fit since he actually wore pants.

“Wait, so you're from the place my front door leads to now?” Mr. Robinson asked as he warily backed away towards his front door, and looked at it to see it was wide open, the dark space beyond still being that of inside a wood building. “Library?”

“Yeppers!” The woman jumped as she wobbled over to him, making him nervous as she tripped and he caught her by instinct, accidentally feeling her up to his shame. “Whoops! Sorry, not used to just two legs, he-he!”

“What do you mean by that?” He asked as he finally looked her in the eyes. They were a captivating light blue, filled with mirth and life like he'd never seen in anybody before.

“I'll show you! C'mon!” She grabbed his right arm and began dragging him, but he was easily half a foot taller and a couple hundred pounds heavier as he planted his boots and stopped her dead.

“In there!? No! I don't know what's in there! For all I know you're some sort of alien about to abduct me through a false sense of security! Using my weakness for beautiful women and women in general against me!” He tried to pull his arm free, but her grip was shockingly strong, and she smiled gently at him, getting him to pause.

“Just trust me, 'kay? You'll be fine.” Her smile didn't falter, her optimism didn't waver.

She was like him when he was a stupid teenager too happy and ignorant to know better.

He took a step.

Then another.

Until finally he was at the threshold, breathing heavily as he broke out in a cold sweat. He'd never done something so STUPID as this! “I hope I don't regret this....”

“You won't!” The pink-haired woman giggled as she pulled him through.

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A giant lump under a large blanket shifted with a snort and a groan rang out in protest of leaving the lovely grasp of sleep. He instinctively reached out for where his alarm usually was, only to feel just the post of a headboard. “Ugh...did I sleep backwards on my bed again? What happened last night? And why's it so bright?” Mr. Robinson got out from under the covers, looking around in confusion at the purely wooden décor. “...Definitely not my room. I have cherry wood furniture, not oak. Or oak walls....”

He got up, staggering as he felt oddly out of sorts, like he had two left feet, and he could barely feel the floor. “Mm...must've slept in my boots again.” He bent over to take them off, only to freeze. His feet were gone.

“AH~!” 'FREAK-OUT TIME! Dimensional doorways in my house I was SORT of okay with, but no feet?!' He frantically looked at the solid black hooves that replaced his feet, and the russet red fur covering his arms and chest. 'Mirror! MIRROR!' He lumbered clumsily over to the nearest doorway, so glad that when he opened it that it led to a normal bathroom and not some gog forsaken wasteland or something. He had to really lean down to get through the small door, and pretty much kneel to get a look at himself.

He was RIPPED! His once fat barrel shaped body was now shaped like a rippling muscular t-bone steak, fitting since he seemed to be a minotaur for whatever reason. His fur from waist up was russet red, but a familiar dark blond shaggy fur coated him waist down, thankfully hiding his privates, he'd get to that later. His leg's joints were more complicated, but he felt normal moving them as if he were still human, so aside from the hooves; he was fine with it. The short cow tail from just above his buttocks was irritating though.

He still had all five fingers thank goodness, and aside from all that, his head was now completely different as he had two upward curved horns on either side of his head, and his hair was still a shaggy mop of dirty blond, but now cascaded down his upper back like a proper mane. It was going to be HELL getting the knots out! Also, his snout was devoid of fur thankfully as he licked his lips and snout experimentally, yet opened wide to see he still had canines. Fitting, since in myth minotaurs ate meat too, but preferred a vegetarian diet.

Thankfully he didn't have to shave his face ironically; the beard and mustache were all gone, at least something aside from the loss of fat came from all this madness. “Fucking...metal.”

“That sounds painful!” The squeaky voice from before intoned from the open doorway.

“AH!” Mr. Robinson shouted as he jolted away from the source.

“AH! Yourself! But that's not what I'm here for silly~! Heh, heh!” He was expecting the excessively busty pink-haired woman, but instead he saw what seemed to be a very, VERY small pony of impossibly pink coloration. Her voice and hair matched, but it was her eyes that sold him. There could be no-one else with eyes like those, so filled with life.

“Are you...the woman who invaded my home?” Mr. Robinson asked curiously, and the tiny pink mare bounced as she nodded.

“Yeppers! I don't know why I turned into whatever that “woman” thing you say is, but that was me! I'm not usually so...bulgy, but I'm glad to meet you, and become friends! I'm Pinkie Pie! Who're you?” The now named Pinkie Pie asked as she leaned towards the fresh minotaur, eager to get his name, and he smiled, her behavior reminding him of when life was so simple, so free.

“Anthon Robinson.” He held his hand out to her, and she gladly put her hoof in it to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

Author's Notes:

Could. Not. RESIST! I had to commit one of the worst fan-fic sins ever because this concept would NOT leave me alone!

Anthon Robinson is based entirely upon me, based on how I believe I would behave in given circumstances. You get to know if I'm a complete asshat now XD