There was a man by the name of Gagnon who one day awoke to discover that he had a curious power. You see, he had gone to his neighbor's home to deliver a parcel that had mistakenly been placed upon his doorstep. But as he stepped through her front door, he discovered that he had walked into a bedroom.

Inside, a man was standing against the wall, naked, with his hands covering his genetalia. His gaze was cast to the floor, and his face was twisted in the look that can only come from being discovered. A woman, who happened to be an occupant of the house, sat on the bed, holding the sheets against herself to cover up.

Gagnon was dumbfounded. At first, he wanted nothing more than to mumble an apology and back out of the room. But something was amiss; the people in the room were not offended but mortified, and the man was not the woman's husband.

It was then that Gagnon realized that he had been transfigured. Looking down at his sleeves, he was wearing a flannel that certainly wasn't to his tastes, and his hands were blistered and broad. He recognized which performer he was in this scene.

"You fucking whore!"
"Lawrence! Let me explain!", pleaded the woman with a quavering voice. The man kept still and silent, as if he hoped to be invisible.
"There's nothing to explain. I know exactly what is going on here. You're detestable. You rotten bitch." She opened her mouth to respond, but found no words. Gagnon came forward and grabbed her by the chin, lifting her forward and looking her in the eye, before throwing her out of the bed and sending her tumbling across the floor. It was then that Gagnon shook his head, cast a glance to man (reducing him to jelly) and stalked back out of the door, to find himself standing in the yard, fully Gagnon once more.

The woman opened the door, and it opened into the foyer. She gave him a smile, and upon noticing the parcel, thanked him for the kindness.

Gagnon felt thoroughly exhilarated from the experience. It wasn't just the thrill of vengeance, or the twisting of the vice that is persecution. It wasn't even the violence of the scene. He'd envied his neighbor's wife, and enjoyed seeing her breasts. The irony was not lost on him, but this only amplified the elation that he felt; he was totally exempt from consequence, as he was Lawrence at the time.

Over time, he began to learn what it was that triggered the phenomena. The door had to be blue in color, and upon entering he would experience the deepest guilt of the person nearest the door. He wasn't sure exactly where he went as he entered the door, but nobody ever questioned where he had gone, so he didn't either, perhaps fearing the answer. When he entered the door, he not only transformed physically but also gained a sort of dual awareness- he was still very much Gagnon, but also possessed the memories and convictions of his new form.

Upon entering a restaurant, he found himself the prosecuting attorney in a hit-and-run case against the host. At an antique shop, he was a police officer surveying the old curator hiring a prostitute. The strangest of all, though, had to be when he entered a library and found himself standing in a field, a young boy, watching a wide-eyed girl prod at the intestines of a dying rabbit.

It became a fixation for Gagnon. Immersing himself in the rush of dominance, secrets, and shame, it became a consistent fetish. He began to actively seek out blue doors, and had his own front door painted blue so that he might gain unprivileged insight into his friends and family.

The trouble came when he entered his home by himself. What he saw was devastating. Gagnon saw himself, looking back in shock and revilement as he opened a door. Only then did he recognize the beast that he had become. He flung open his door and chased himself, forever.