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