It was during the unusually severe pacific cyclone that the small offshore fishing community fled, fearing their lives as the wind smashed their stilted wooden houses. All left to cross the one mile straights to the mainland on a fleet of two old sinking outriggers. All except Cartoon, who would not leave without his cartoon books. He was feared to have perished. They never returned.

A few years later, the coast of the mainland had developed a bustling tourist industry, with bright lights, loud music and plenty of garbage distributed into the straights. Cartoon had survived on the island, alone, but capable, even with no stimulation from the outside world. One day, a pornography magazine washed up, soggy and half disintegrated. Cartoon read this gift from the Gods with intense delight. Here were roll models. Beautiful long silk hair, adorable faces, perfect pert firm breasts, smooth olive skin, the faces in the pictures were ready and pleased to pleasure long hard dripping phalluses. Cartoon did not realize, that this was porn, images of girls sucking guys. She just saw the beauty and had to emulate it them. The pictures were too soggy, and fell to pieces. Cartoon never knew that the girls in the pictures were not guys. She just sat on the island alone masturbating and lapping up her own cum for sustenance.

Having rebuilt herself, she set of swimming across the straights, her long silk hair flowing on the waves, seaweed drifting passed her and getting tangled on her cock. Her long thin athletic limbs cut thru the tide. She felt sand between her fingers and looked up, above the beach was a broad highway, lined with bars, brightly lit, full of hairy guys drinking beer. She knew she had reached her destiny. She stood up and her stiff cock rose, as she walked to the middle of the highway. The perfect female form naked and masturbating, with five hundred guys watching. You know when I got Cartoon back to my hotel room, she really reminded me of some girl I saw in a porno mag that I threw away years ago.