Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and vaginas shown in movies. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “vaginas shown in movies” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see vaginas shown in movies come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “vaginas shown in movies, vaginas shown in movies, fuck, vaginas shown in movies!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “vaginas shown in movies” release.