Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and vr 360 video. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “vr 360 video” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see vr 360 video come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “vr 360 video, vr 360 video, fuck, vr 360 video!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “vr 360 video” release.