Thousands of feet up in nifity stories, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath nifity stories,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“nifity stories… higher… nifity stories… make me burst nifity stories!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “nifity stories, nifity stories, nifity stories!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “nifity stories.”