Peter jolted backwards, this time hitting the wall behind. He felt bits of rotten wood shake off an fall down upon his increasingly dirty, sleeveless shirt.

"Uwha.." He eloquently argued.

"So, you've got a new one... He is new, right, it's not just some new transmogrifying trick?" She said, ignoring Peter completely, turning back upon the potato head.

"Oh he's very new. I'm not entirely sure he's getting the point, or figured out there isn't any..."

"I see," she said, nodding sagely, "Well, I'm taking this transmogrifier. You got a problem with that?"

"I've got sooo many problems... Are you referring to any specific one?"

"Okay," she sighed, picking up the mug and downing it in one draft. Peter looked on, horrified. He had seen the liquid change a patch of dirt into life, and she just downed the entire thing without a moment's hesitation.

For a while, nothing happened, then her entire shape warped and shifted. Like she was made of a liquid, her form undulated and began falling apart from the top down. Reverberating, the liquid produced a deep bass, as if a huge speaker had been set up right by Peter's ear. Once the loud sound had passed, the shape twisted one more time, and - instead of the woman who had stood there before - a small dog with large ears stood barking on its hind legs.

"Oohh," Billy said, as he stepped forward and studied what had once been the woman, "Not bad... a decent shape, I'd say. You can surely make some progress with that!"

Peter stepped forward gingerly, circling the small dog. It turned on him incredibly fast, something that petrified his very average and ordinary constitution. Those molten eyes from before were now gone, and instead the dog had very ordinary dog eyes, along with ordinary dog teeth, dog nose, and... "Oh Christ, what is that smell?," Peter said, already fighting nausea from the general fume in the hut, but face to face with that dog-breath, he buckled under and threw up whatever had remained in his stomach.

"It's the smell of money, No-name," Billy laughed and wafted the air from the dog towards himself, "The smell of all the money, indeed. Why do you have to be such a tense customer? Just take what you're served!."

Cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand, Peter looked back up and saw the dog visibly sniff and put its head into the air, before regally exiting the hut. He tried to follow it, but it went out of sight for a mere moment, and when he should have caught sight of it again it was gone. Looking out on the clearing, still surrounding the hut, Peter tried to make sense of his past few experiences.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Of course, there was no sense to them, so it was a futile effort.

Sighing, he turned back on Billy, who was trying to touch the kettle with a single finger. "Why would you want me to turn into a dog?" He asked.

"I don't want you to do anything," Billy riposted, "As long as you keep moving, I'm here to follow. Besides, you won't know what the transmogrifier will turn you into before you swallow it."

"And what if I just leave?"

"Then you are just going to stay the way you are. I don't think you're getting the core concept here; the road is random, and the only way to get anywhere is to be random yourself. If you just stay the way you are, you are not going to get anywhere."

"But you said the road would take me where I need to be!"

Billy threw up his hands, then took a hold of his top hat, pulling at it as if frustration, "Of course you are where you need to be; you are always exactly where you need to be, almost by definition!"

None of this was helping. Hesitantly, Peter stepped forward and raised the kettle again. He decided he was having some kind of fever dream, and in that spirit might as well just go with it.

He poured another cup, allowing the brown liquid to fill it up before he put the kettle down. With a deep breath, Peter put the cup to his lips and drank it in one great draft.

"Ahahahahah, now we're getting somewhere!" Billy clapped his small hands and jumped in circles, his huge eyes rolling around in their sockets with every skip.

Resisting a gag reflex, Peter blinked a few times. When blinking did absolutely nothing to wet his dried out eyes, Peter tried pinching his eyes close. Nothing. He was staring into the dark interior of the hut without any control of his face whatsoever.

That was when he realized he had stepped into what might be described as a disaster.

When the world then fell completely apart, and sounds hitherto unknown to him rocketed through his chest and head, he started to realize it might be a bit more serious than a disaster, and in his ordinary approach to the world, it rather felt like a 'difficult' disaster.

Pain followed. Not the ordinary kind of pain that Peter was used to, rather it was a pain of an indescribably 'difficult' nature. It was in his chest for a bit, then he had no chest and the pain took hold of his legs. Then he had no legs, and the whole thing continued on.

When it was over and done with, Peter felt he was changed. He felt a strong sense of invincibility, in fact; like a man who had overcome mortal peril and shed all of his ordinary senses to become something more... something better.

Slowly his perceptions returned to normal, and he found himself looking upon the dim interior of the hut, only slightly changed. That is, until something took hold of him and picked him up.

Screaming and fighting, Peter was soon held up face to face with Billy, the only difference being that Billy was now about fifty times bigger than before.

Or... It’s me who’s fifty times smaller...

The terrifying thought send shivers down Peters body, as did the mad cackling from Billy.