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