The air in town smelled like roasted cherries. It was a scent more suited for mid-Summer like July or late spring, like May or Early June right before it becomes summer. But it was neither of those times. It was slap-fucked in the crack of late December. Frost laced all the windows like some persistent lover, clingy and elegant.

The small town where Hattie lived was filled with shabby shacks of crumbling brick and banged up metal. Not just any old metal, but the skinned walls of cargo freight containers from ships that saw more places than this sleepy town’s denizens could ever dream to think of.

Hattie sat in her windowsill, squinting through the frost-crowded glass, illuminated by only a stumpy candle. Her hand shoved down her dirty panties, rubbing her folds. She had her back leaned up against the brick wall of the windowpane. Legs spread like a vulgar carnival vendor showing off her wares. Her thighs trembled as she rubbed the slick bead of her engorged clit. Her breath fogging the glass, she kept smearing away trying to squint out the window at the neighbors.

Her clit was getting so tender and sensitive to the touch. She hissed as her fingers played, rubbing their tips all over its slimy head, over, and over, and over again. Biting her lip she felt her breath suspend itself like a trapeze artist in her throat, as her heart beat faster, and faster and faster - a standing ovation to the joy that was suddenly crashing through her body.

Her cunt creamed all over her fingers and she worked it in her folds again, baptizing herself with her own fluids, before she lowered her leg to drag a Styrofoam cup over and picked it up - angling it between her thigh she pulled her mound up to angle herself and began to pee in the neglected soda cup from who knows how many days, weeks, or months ago.

The heat of her piss steamed the glass. And she felt a sudden sadness at how empty her body felt now. The warmth of the pee in her bladder now gone; she shivered from the cold. Her cunt felt like a cold fish now, not the warm, heated hole she was playing with before. The fire in her loins was snuffed out by satisfaction. She replaced the torn plastic lid to the Styrofoam cup and stirred her urine with the bent straw poking out of the torn plastic lid.

Glancing across the room at the dark kitchen, the fridge door was thrown and left open, exposing a carcass of empty shelves and gutted drawers strewn across the grimy tile floor. She looked back to the warm drink in her hand and took a curious sip of her own urine. Her stomach growled, thankful for the offering.

She slurped it down again and again until it was all gone. And then she set the empty cup on the window sill’s far corner from her. The stumpy candle flickered - as if ashamed, as if bashful, as if that final act of voyeurism smote out its heat as well. The night itself was satisfied by the meager offering.

Hattie stared out into the night. Her dark-coal eyes watched as the formerly fighting neighbors continued to fuck. Hands pressed against the glass and the fog of their breath like a tidal wave of exhibitionism.

Soon it was just shadows pressed against the dingy window. Hattie watched as the snow started to pour down thicker and heavier, the more obscured the neighbor’s window became.

Her eyes grew sleepy. She tried to ignore the way the downpour of snow made her nipples erect. It was like the snow was begging, seducing her to be its bukkake bride, to come out and frolic in nature’s cum bath.

Her stomach growled at the thought of fisting balls of snow into her mouth - devouring, swallowing the white stuff from the sky as it drenched her body and everywhere around her.

She could roll around in it, until she was rock hard, solid as stone - transformed into a human-sized boner. The thought of the magic of this night, transforming her starving body into something strong and seductive made her cunt weep with hope and curiosity. Sliding her fingers down between her legs again. She found her clit bulbously hard and protruding from her folds.

Hattie gasped at how sensitive it was - almost too sensitive. She moved her other hand to her chest. Her mouth fell open to ejaculate an exhale of relief and gratitude from her nipples. She rubbed them more as a way to show them more appreciation. She pressed her fingers around her clit and stroked as the other hand rubbed her nipples. It felt like she had three clits at once, the way her body sang with sensation.

She was freezing without the candle, but she didn’t care, she was fucking the snowstorm. She was fucking the snowstorm to be reborn as a living stone erection. A five foot eight tall boner, long and strong and always hard and ready: to be stroked, milked, sucked, and plunged deep into any wet and open orifice. Like the earth itself.

Her clit pulsed its agreement. Yes, yes yes! She would fuck the earth. There was no deeper pussy than the planet herself. Hattie arched her back - grinding her ass on the hard brick of the windowsill.

A moan slipped out.

She rubbed her ass against the coarse brick again and again until her cheeks parted and her hole kissed the hard surface. Grinding her hole against the brick, stroking her clit, and nipples, she let her mind surrender completely into her fantasy of transformation.

Forsaking her cunt-hole, she worked the shallow shafts of her clit and her nipples. The cold glass of the window warmed up to her arm and shoulder as she worked faster and faster. Grinding on the brick, until she bled, felt like a sacrifice - like some sort of magic that slowed her limbs, her pleasure reducing until she went completely still. Exhausted, sleep slammed into her like an eager lover.

There was the sound of jingling bells, and boots approaching her. Everything was dark and close. Until there was light and a hand grabbing her whole body. The sensation of breath on her skin smelled like cookies and milk. Then she was moving and the sound of weight hitting a bed - springs groaning and a zipper going down and fabric sliding against skin. The sound of something being squirted from a bottle.

A man was moaning repeatedly, “Oh, Ho, ho, ho, yes, yes, yes!”

Hattie felt herself be squeezed into a dark hole, over and over and over again, one side of her phallic body was being gripped by a hand while the other was being shoved into an asshole.

Over and over again.

She felt slimy and warm with an intermittent breeze from the motion.

That laughing moan again, "Oh ho, ho, ho, yes, yes, yes”

Suddenly, she was shoved deep, very deep inside that asshole and squeezed hard. It felt like a hug. It felt like all the love and holiday cheer she longed for but didn’t have … until now.

Hattie had become Santa’s Dildo. The dream told her that much. She was afraid to wake up. She didn’t want this gift to end. She prayed for it to never end. She prayed and prayed so hard that her whole body began to vibrate. The more she wished and prayed, the stronger the vibrations became.

“Oh! Ho, ho, HO!!!”

Yes, yes, yes!