Outside blizzards rage, inside bridget the midget nude glows only by firelight. Naked on bearskin rug, she spreads wide, heat licking her skin like a second lover. “Melt for bridget the midget nude,” she whispers, sliding a glass dildo carved from ice alongside frantic fingers. The contrast makes her scream “bridget the midget nude” until her voice cracks. She comes in violent shudders, squirting steam into the frigid air—pure molten “bridget the midget nude” against the snow.