You grew wings. You weren't sure how, but there you were in your room, standing half awake in the bathroom, staring at wings that were on your back via the mirror.

Wings. Not yet feathers. Painful. Wings. That explained why your back ached like nothing else.

You didn't really know what to do, but you figured. Sure, it was 2 a.m. in the morning, but now was the perfect time to call Quackity, the duck hybrid, for help. Why? Because Google was absolutely no help. And now you had wings, and a bed arranged in a nest, and in pain, and instincts starting that you didn't understand, and you were tired, and hungry and did the pain get mentioned enough?