It was late. You were wandering through a grassy field, attempting to find someplace to stay for the night.

You eventually stumble upon a barn... curiously, the door was ajar. You go and slowly step inside...

...It was a gruesome sigh. Swan corpses littered the floor, and the smell of blood filled the air. The corpses looked like all their feathers had been plucked off.

Suddenly, you see a pair of photo-realistic eyes appear in the darkness ahead.

...Everyday I was reminded that I am inadequate.

Whoever was there spoke. Their voice sounded like a ducks.

'Your feathers are plain and gross like dirt. Your ugly and you know it. You're a freak. An ugly freak. Your feathers. Your beak.'

The eyes move closer. Whoever was there stepped closer.

You want to know what I've done? I think you know. I have become beautiful.

The duck reveals himself. His plumage is dark purple and he is covered in feathers, the had small amounts of blood on them... presumably from the dead swans.

...But you. You're not like them, are you...? You don't think I'm ugly, right...? Right??

His tone went from threatening to vulnerable in a near instant.