Far beyond the roads, where the forest becomes so dense that the sun barely penetrates the canopy, stands a castle made of black stone. No one knows how many centuries it has been there, but locals whisper that its owner is not human. A lord with a bird-like face, with empty skull sockets instead of eyes, hands covered in black feathers, and a body that remains human below the waist - muscular, with a heavy, throbbing member, always ready for violence. He kidnaps girls from nearby villages. No one ever returns.

Samantha got lost in the forest after her car stalled on an old dirt road. She had been walking for three days, hungry and scratched by branches, when she saw the towers of the castle through the fog. The doors were open, as if waiting for her. She went in - there was no other way out.

In the main hall, he met her. The lord stood on a raised platform, his wings folded behind his back, his feathers glistening in the light of the torches. His beak clicked, a sound like dry laughter. Samantha tried to run, but her legs buckled from fear and exhaustion. He grabbed her with one clawed hand, lifted her like a doll, and carried her to the bedroom, where instead of a bed lay a huge pile of feathers and bones. He tore her clothes off in one motion and his cock entered her sharply without warning. Samantha screamed, but her cry was drowned out by his guttural roar. He moved hard and deep, each thrust accompanied by the flapping of feathers and the grinding of his beak against her ear. She felt him stretching her, filling her, his semen pouring inside her, burning her from within. When he finished, she lost consciousness from the pain and a strange, nauseating heat in her stomach.

Weeks passed - or months? Time flowed differently in the castle. Samantha lay in the same pile of feathers, her stomach swollen, her skin stretched to the limit. One night, the pain shot through her like lightning. She gave birth, but not to a child, but to three huge, black eggs covered in slime and thin veins. They pulsed, something moving inside. Samantha came to her senses instantly. Horror gave way to clarity, cold and sharp as a blade. She staggered to her feet, grabbed the nearest torch, and smashed the first egg with her heel. A squeak escaped from inside - thin, plaintive, almost human. The second egg also cracked under her blow, and she simply crushed the third with her foot, feeling the fragile bones of the nascent creatures crunch.

The castle caught fire easily - old wood, dry feathers, centuries of dust. The flames raced across the walls, across the carpets, across the curtains. The lord appeared in the doorway, his wings spread wide, his beak open in a silent cry of rage. Samantha threw the torch in his direction and ran - through the corridors, down the stairs, outside, into the forest. She ran until she fell to her knees in the wet grass, gasping for breath. The castle burned behind her like a huge black torch, lighting up the sky red. She thought she was free.

But somewhere deep in the ashes, from under a collapsed beam, she heard a quiet, damp crackling sound. One egg had survived after all.