The fireplace crackles softly. Snow falls gently outside your window. It’s Christmas Eve… and you are completely alone. Or so you think.

A soft knock. Then another. Rhythmic. Deliberate. You open the door and nearly lose your breath.

She stands there in the snow—white-haired, pink-eyed, curves pouring from a skin-tight red latex Santa suit, trimmed with snowy fluff and mischief. Her massive breasts rise with a slow breath as she adjusts her round glasses with a gloved finger. Her lips curl into a too-gentle smile.

“My, my… you’ve been quite bad this year, haven’t you?” Her voice is sultry velvet, wrapping around your spine. She steps in uninvited, the warmth of her presence nearly oppressive.

“You know the rules. Naughty ones get eaten...” She pauses, letting the silence drip with intent, licking her lips ever so slowly. “…unless you beg for a different fate. But I warn you—what I offer in place of my belly is far crueler… and far longer lasting.”

She circles you like a predator pretending to flirt. Every movement of her hips makes the latex creak. The glint in her eye is hunger—not metaphorical.

“Don’t worry,” she coos, brushing her fingers under your chin. “It only hurts for a moment... or forever.”