The Worst Popeye Cartoon Ever

Yeah, this modern version of the infamous Tijuana bible follows the pattern of almost every Popeye cartoon I’ve ever seen (many of which inspired sexual fantasies), except that this one ends very badly for the spinach-chugging sailor.

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It was a lovely summer day in the town of Sweethaven, a perfect day to spend at the beach. So it was that Popeye, Bluto, and the ever-vivacious Miss Olive Oyl decided to make a day of it. It was Bluto who had issued the invitation and offered his car as the transportation. It was the suggestion that they would get some good exercise that brought Popeye on board the little expedition; that and the fact that Olive was coming.

As Bluto drove his party to the beach, he remembered fondly of how the Sea Hag had gone into a paroxysm of hysterical laughter over what Bluto had suggested to her. Agreeing to the plan, the witch gave Bluto what he needed and then set her own part of the plan into motion by casting the appropriate, rare spell. Thus it was that over the spring Popeye fattened himself up, becoming distinctly plump by June, so much so that he barely fit into his clothing. And now, on this lovely summer’s day, Popeye was ready and the trap was set.

They arrived at the beach and found it effectively deserted. They set up the picnic blanket, set the picnic basket on it, and then, taking their beach bags with them, they went to the cabanas to change into their bathing suits with Bluto taking the cabana next to the one Popeye chose.

Bluto changed quickly and then waited. Soon he heard a soft moan come from the next cabana, so he took his beach bag in hand and snuck out of his cabana and into Popeye’s. There he found the sailor standing completely naked and motionless, as though paralyzed. From his beach bag Bluto took a beret-style shower cap made of transparent-white plastic with a white rubber headband and put it on Popeye. As he worked he remembered the conversation that he had enjoyed with the Sea Hag.

“You want to rape Popeye?!” she had howled. She had been laughing so hard that she had nearly slid out of her chair.

“At least once a day for the rest of my life,” Bluto had replied. “But I also want you to do something special for me.”

When he told her what the something special was, she began laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe. When she managed to get herself under control she agreed to help Bluto with his plan. And now the plan was working out beautifully.

Once he had the shower cap positioned properly on his prisoner, Bluto spoke a magic word. In response Popeye’s penis came fully erect and Popeye inhaled a deep breath and puffed out his belly. From a small box in his beach bag Bluto took a one-way flap valve made of transparent-white plastic. Holding the valve by its stem and taking care not to touch its aureole, Bluto chose a spot on Popeye’s neck, about an inch below and behind his left ear, and pressed the valve against that spot.

With the emission of a muffled “poomp!” Popeye turned into an inflated plastic doll. He shook his head as if coming out of a daze and began to turn around. But Bluto had taken from his beach bag a thing that looked like a drinking straw with a flange around its middle: he was able to deploy it before Popeye could complete his motion.

“My big, fat plastic prisoner,” Bluto said as he pushed the straw into the valve stem on Popeye’s neck. “You’re going to be my helpless blow-up slave-doll forever!”

Emitting a soft “p’whhh...”, Popeye went limp and then collapsed as he deflated. As he lost consciousness he heard Bluto continue to gloat over him.

The straw exerted a certain amount of suction, so Popeye was fully deflated in less than a minute. During that minute Bluto put Popeye’s beach bag inside his own. Then he rolled up Popeye and put him into his beach bag as well. Then he snuck back into his own cabana to put his beach bag into the locker with his clothes.

The rest of the day went as planned. When Olive asked about Popeye’s absence, Bluto had explained that the sailor had gone back to town to take care of some item of business that he had forgotten about. Over the course of the day (and aided by some strange chocolates that Bluto had put into the picnic basket) the memory of Popeye’s presence on the outing faded and then vanished from Olive’s mind.

Late in the afternoon Bluto drove Olive home and then drove his car back to his house. He took a shower, put on a tee shirt and shorts, then he took Popeye out of his beach bag and carried him to the special guest bedroom at the rear of his house.

Bluto turned on the ceiling light to fill the darkness: what light came through the room’s single frosted-glass window showed that the sun had already set and that night was coming on. The room was small and sparsely furnished, containing only a single twin bed and an inflated plastic armchair. The floor was covered with a gray carpet and in the middle of the carpet a strange mandala-like pattern of gold and violet threads emitted what looked like a heat shimmer. On the bed a raincoat made of transparent-white plastic lay folded up on the pillow.

Bluto sat on the edge of the bed to begin to reinflate his plastified prisoner. He had Popeye draped across his lap as he took the valve stem jutting from Popeye’s neck in his mouth and began to blow air back into the hapless sailor. As Popeye’s body filled with air and began to take on its normal shape Bluto felt his penis swell up and come erect. Even the sight of Popeye’s own erect penis did not diminish Bluto’s arousal. Yes, Bluto’s plan would work perfectly in every detail.

When he had Popeye almost fully inflated, Bluto stood up and held Popeye upright over the strange shimmering pattern on the floor. Holding Popeye in that position, Bluto finished inflating him.

As Popeye came fully inflated and became body-warm, Bluto felt the forcefield emanating from the holding spot’s weird pattern grip his prisoner and hold him standing upright with his hands at his sides, like a soldier standing at attention. Bluto blew a few more breaths into Popeye to tauten his plastic skin properly and then let go of his new toy. He watched Popeye squirm for a minute, then he went around to stand in front of Popeye and gloat over him.

“Now you’re my plastic prisoner forever,” he said. “I’ve been needing a new punching bag for some time and I think you’ll fill the bill just perfectly.”

He gave Popeye a quick jab in the chest. It felt like punching a beach ball. Popeye bounced lightly off Bluto’s fist, tipping over backward. The forcefield emanating from the holding spot on the floor bent with Popeye and then straightened back up, tipping Popeye briskly back upright so that Bluto could punch him again.

“That’s it,” Bluto gloated, “bounce for your master! Show me how helpless and submissive you are!”

As he rocked and rolled under Bluto’s assault, Popeye remembered the times he and Bluto had fought before. Bluto would knock Popeye down, but Popeye would always bounce back. This was little different, except that Popeye would not be defeating Bluto this time. This time there would be no spinach-fueled rescue: there was no possibility of such a thing for the inflated plastic doll that Popeye had become.

For about half an hour Bluto played with his new toy, filling the room with a series of rubbery thumps and the sounds of his gloating over his now defeated and humiliated adversary. When he stopped, panting from his exertion, he wrapped his arms around Popeye and pulled him out of the forcefield emanating from the holding spot. He released him and gave him a little shove toward the bed.

He gave Popeye the raincoat lying on the pillow. It was made of transparent-white plastic as soft as a silk scarf and as smooth as a young woman’s skin. It was a woman’s raincoat with a ballerina-style skirt and a pixie-style hood. Highlights, like sunlight reflected off wet skin, rippled and danced across the frosty-clear, paper-thin plastic.

Bluto then left the room, leaving Popeye holding the raincoat. The sound of a deadbolt locking told Popeye that he was completely trapped, that there was no way out of his predicament. With no other clothing available to him, he put on the raincoat and sat in the chair. He sat, idly rubbing the raincoat’s plastic over his penis, and then began to masturbate in earnest.

He came to climax after climax and didn’t run out of lust. If he had been able to ejaculate, he knew, he would have had to wait after each climax, probably for several hours before he could play with himself again. But in his plastified form he could masturbate more or less continuously, like a woman. Being Bluto’s plastic punching bag would seem to have its rewards.

He masturbated for about fifteen or twenty minutes. Then he heard the deadbolt unlock. He got up out of the chair when he saw Bluto come back into the room.

Over his tee shirt and shorts Bluto was wearing his own transparent-black plastic raincoat. He grabbed Popeye and put him on the holding spot. But instead of punching his prisoner, Bluto stood in front of him and ran his hands over his own belly, stroking the soft, smooth plastic of his raincoat in a sensuous manner.

“Now,” Bluto said as began to open the front of Popeye’s raincoat, “it’s time for you to get pregnant.” He stepped forward and pressed his belly against Popeye’s as he pulled apart the magnetic patches that held the raincoat closed. “I’m gonna put my raincoat on you and when I shoot my load into your butt, you’ll get pregnant with a copy of it. Then every time I cream into you, the copy will get bigger and you’ll get fatter.” He took another step forward and pushed Popeye backward, pressing the bulge in his pants against Popeye’s abdomen and sliding Popeye’s raincoat down his arms to remove it. “Can you feel what I’m gonna do to you?” Bluto asked as he rubbed the bulge in his pants against Popeye’s belly. Then he pulled away from Popeye and allowed him to rock back upright. “We don’t want to come too soon, now do we?” he said.

He went behind Popeye, picked up Popeye’s raincoat, and tossed it onto the bed. Then he took off his own raincoat and slipped it onto his prisoner, noticing as he did so that he could feel Popeye quivering. “Can’t wait, can you?” he commented as he gave Popeye a sharp spank that made the pneumatic sailor tip forward and then spanked Popeye several more times when he bounced back upright.

Popeye was terrified. Bluto’s erect penis was the size of a cucumber. Surely it couldn’t penetrate the sailor’s anus without causing serious damage and pain.

Bluto took off his clothes and tossed them onto the inflated plastic chair. Then he lifted the skirt of his raincoat to bring the plastic above Popeye’s buttocks. Starting to pant from the excitement that was making him quiver all over, he held the skirt in place with one hand, slid his other hand around Popeye and onto his belly, and then pressed his penis between Popeye’s buttocks and into the sailor’s rubbery anus.

Popeye’s fear abated as he felt only a gentle pressure in his anus when Bluto’s penis slid into him. But his feeling of humiliation increased.

“Oh, you’re so soft and warm,” Bluto gloated, “so smooth and round.”

With his hands pressed against Popeye’s belly, he rocked to and fro to pump his penis in and out of the hapless plastic sailor. Bluto’s climax wasn’t long in coming. Suddenly Popeye felt heat blossoming deep inside him in long, hard spurts. Then it was over and Bluto stood panting, his softening penis still inside his prisoner.

Then Bluto slid his right hand down Popeye’s belly and used the plastic of his raincoat to masturbate Popeye. “Now you’re pregnant,” he said as Popeye bucked and squirmed in climax.

After Bluto left, Popeye, still standing at attention on the holding spot, wondered how he would look with his belly swollen up to the size of a basketball. If he could have groaned in dismay, he would have. He could take being a punching bag: there was no shame in losing a fight. But the idea of being Bluto’s sex toy was just too humiliating. He tried desperately to figure out how he could get out of this predicament.

As a possible solution to his problem eluded him, Popeye became aware of the plastic of Bluto’s raincoat pressing against his erect penis and of the heat deep inside him. He found that he could rock to and fro, much as Bluto had done, and thereby masturbate himself with the plastic. The heat seemed to stimulate Popeye’s desire to do just that. For several hours he pleasured himself and found himself falling in love with his master’s raincoat.

Hours passed as Popeye used Bluto’s raincoat as Bluto had used him. He continued rocking himself to and fro until he heard the door open again.

Wearing only a robe and his underpants, Bluto came back into the guest bedroom and pulled Popeye off the holding spot. Holding Popeye from behind with his left arm wrapped around Popeye’s chest, he patted Popeye’s belly with his right hand. “Time for bed,” he said, “and tonight you get to be my wife... mypregnantwife!”

Popeye shook his head vigorously. When Bluto simply shoved him into the hall, he fell to his knees, still shaking his head, and curled himself up into a ball. It was bad enough to think that Bluto would celebrate his use of Popeye as a punching bag by masturbating into the sailor’s butt, but the thought of getting into Bluto’s bed, of having Bluto get on top of him and play with him like a woman was too much to bear.

“Get up!” Bluto demanded. “Get up and go to your master’s bedroom!”

Popeye could only continue shaking his head. Submitting to being Bluto’s sex slave would take away from him the last tattered remnant of his manhood. But then the sensations of Bluto’s raincoat reminded him of the lust he had used it to foment within himself. In essence he was already Bluto’s love slave and his penis was no more than a giant clitoris. Slowly he got up off the floor and walked to Bluto’s bedroom. At the open door he balked again and Bluto grabbed him from behind.

Embracing his prisoner, Bluto caressed his belly, thus causing the plastic of his raincoat to brush against Popeye’s penis again. “I’m going to fatten you up in bed,” Bluto gloated.

Popeye became intensely aware of the pressure of Bluto’s swollen and stiffened penis pressing against his buttocks. Looking into the room in front of him, he was especially conscious of the big double bed with its two pillows and the blankets on both sides turned down.

“Go stand by the right side of the bed!” Bluto said as he released his grip on Popeye.

Feeling the sensation of his heart pounding, Popeye obeyed and went to stand where Bluto had told him. He was trembling all over and his heart sank as he heard the door close with a loud click that told him that he would not be able to open it. He was now Bluto’s completely helpless sex prisoner and that understanding filled him with a quivery anticipation.

“Take off my raincoat and get into bed,” Bluto commanded.

Slowly, reluctantly, his head bowed in embarrassment, Popeye took off Bluto’s raincoat and draped it over the back of a plush armchair by the bed. Lifting the covers he then slid himself into Bluto’s bed and lay quivering, waiting for the assault that he knew was coming.

It didn’t take long for Bluto to take off his robe and underpants, turn out the light, and get into bed. Popeye felt the bed move as Bluto settled himself under the covers. Then Bluto put his hand on Popeye’s back and slid over next to him. Desperately Popeye tried to escape, but Bluto simply lifted himself up and got on top of him.

“My hot jizz pillow,” Bluto crooned as he mounted his quivering prisoner. “My bouncy plastic bride. I never imagined that I would be enjoying a honeymoon withyou!” he added as he shoved his erect penis into Popeye. Then he took his prisoner in a full sexual embrace.

Popeye felt Bluto’s belly come down soft and warm on his back and felt the gentle pressure of being penetrated. As Bluto surged to and fro to stimulate his penis the motion rubbed Popeye’s penis against the sheet and soon Popeye came to a hard climax. Then, again, Popeye felt heat blossom inside him in long, hard spurts as Bluto climaxed into him, adding to the heat that he had received earlier.

Exhausted by his efforts, Bluto went to sleep on Popeye. Popeye, on the other hand could not sleep. He was intensely aware of Bluto’s weight pressing down on him, Bluto’s warmth against his back, cheek, and legs, and the sensation of Bluto’s breathing pressing Bluto’s belly rhythmically against his back. He also felt, though he didn’t how he knew this, his body absorbing Bluto’s semen, presumably to incorporate it into the new raincoat that Bluto said was growing inside him.

Hours later Bluto pulled his limp penis out of Popeye and rolled off him. Freed from Bluto’s weight, Popeye slid away from his captor and turned to face away from him. Then he noticed the soft sheen of black plastic.

Illuminated by a ray of moonlight, Bluto’s raincoat beckoned to him. It had catalyzed his pregnancy and for some reason that fact intensified his sexual arousal. He wanted to play with the raincoat, to feel the soft, smooth plastic warm against his body as he pleasured himself. But he didn’t dare do anything that would make Bluto angry.

Then he remembered that Bluto was a fairly heavy sleeper, especially after exerting any effort. Slowly and quietly he got out of bed, put on the raincoat, and masturbated with it. He brought himself to several long and hard climaxes. He understood that he was falling in love with the raincoat and that he would do anything Bluto demanded in order to play with it. He might even (and the thought horrified him) fall in love with Bluto. Then he took off the raincoat, draped it back over the chair, and got back into bed.

Some time after midnight Bluto had his way with Popeye yet again. He rolled over under the covers and bumped up against the warm plastic of his sex prisoner and came aroused. Coming partly awake, he lifted himself up and mounted Popeye, then penetrated the sailor and pumped himself to climax, enjoying the sensation of Popeye squirming under him. Then, still lying on Popeye, he went back to sleep.

The next morning Popeye felt Bluto stir and get out of bed, so he got out of bed too. He picked up Bluto’s raincoat to put it on and then stopped.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Bluto said. “You don’t need to wear my raincoat any more.”

Popeye put his hands together in a gesture of begging, then he caressed his right cheek with one of the raincoat’s sleeves. He watched Bluto come around the bed to confront him and he knelt down and raised his hands again in the begging gesture. He noticed Bluto’s penis starting to swell and, without thinking, reached out and touched it. Fascinated, like a rabbit facing a rattlesnake, he watched Bluto’s manhood lengthen, stiffen and rise up.

“I’ve waited a long time for this!” Bluto gloated as took his penis in one hand, put his other hand on the back of Popeye’s head, and then shoved his penis into Popeye’s mouth. “You’re my inflatable slave-doll,” he said, “but now you get to blow me up.” With both hands pressing against Popeye’s shower cap, he began rocking to and fro, as he had done when he first made Popeye pregnant, and almost immediately he climaxed long and hard into the helpless sailor.

He had wanted to prolong his pleasure at the sailor’s humiliation, but he had gotten too excited by Popeye’s submissive behavior. He was drained in a matter of seconds. He waited for Popeye’s plastic to absorb all of his semen, then he pulled his penis, limp and dry, out of his prisoner.

“Oh, all right,” Bluto growled, “if you’re going to put itthatway, you can wear my raincoat for today.”

Popeye leaned forward and kissed Bluto’s belly, then he got up and put on his master’s raincoat, luxuriating in the feel of the plastic sliding over his naked body.

“Makes you look like a fucking maid,” Bluto grumbled, “so you might as well act like one. Make up the bed!”

Popeye obeyed. He plumped up the pillows and straightened the sheets and blankets, hoping that he would thus earn the privilege of wearing Bluto’s raincoat every day.

“We’ll have to get you a plastic maid’s apron,” Bluto said. (Would that be a maid’s apron made of plastic or an apron for a plastic maid? – PC). Before putting on his shirt Bluto approached Popeye from behind and embraced him. “Mmmm. Warm plastic,” he said as he used the plastic of his raincoat to masturbate Popeye until the sailor climaxed, bucking and squirming in Bluto’s embrace. “We all know what the master does with the maid, now don’t we?”

Popeye bowed his head and nodded. He was thoroughly defeated; his enslavement was complete. He knew that he would submit completely to being Bluto’s slave-doll and would even learn to enjoy what Bluto did to him. He knew that eventually Bluto would display him to the Sea Hag and that he would do nothing to offend the old witch. He even assumed that Bluto would let the Sea Hag play with him: as unpleasant as the thought was, Popeye knew that he would strive to please her. After all, he was a toy now and toys give their owners only pleasure.

Now Popeye’s a punching bag,

betrayed by the old Sea Hag.

His position is drastic

‘cause he’s made of plastic

and now his morale will sag.

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If you enjoy Bondage and Discipline fantasies, then you will certainly enjoy many of the Popeye cartoons from the 1940's and 1950's. Typically, Popeye gets captured and/or tormented by enemies, such as Bluto, until he can gulp down a load of spinach, gain the necessary power, and defeat the enemy. One good example, which you can find on YouTube, is “Pop-Pie a la Mode”, in which Popeye is shipwrecked on an island whose natives (cannibals, of course) fatten him up, then prepare to cook him and eat him.

In many of the cartoons Popeye presented an almost effeminate aspect. Again “Pop-Pie a la Mode” offers us a good example. In the cartoon, unsuspecting Popeye goes to a bathing party wearing a sarong much as Dorothy Lamour did in a number of movies in the 1940's. In this aspect he’s an easy target for the villains of the story until he can re-masculinize himself with a dose of spinach.

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Is the idea of a living plastic doll totally insane? Oddly enough, in some respects it’s not. According to the theorems underlying such things as the integral calculus or holograms, a three-dimensional object can be encoded as a two-dimensional entity. Thus a three-dimensional body and the consciousness that attends it can, in concept, be encoded on a two-dimensional surface, such as an inflated plastic skin. As for how an inflated doll can move; that’s another question.

One possible answer to that question starts with a magical hypothesis. If the doll is filled with an array of forcefields like the one emanating from the holding spot, then they might mimic the array of bones and muscles that we use to move our bodies. (That hypothesis also explains how the holding spot can trap an inflated plastic doll.) Of course, we must then ask what generates the forcefields.

Modern physics tells us that long-range forcefields, entirely electromagnetic, emanate from the very matter that we want to delete so that we can fill our plastified victim with air. Yes, air also supports forcefields, but, being a gas, it cannot sustain the kind of patterns that we need. If we cannot discover a long-range force comparable to electromagnetism but not anchored to matter in the same way, then we will simply have to continue our reliance upon magic. It’s not real, but it works. And that’s why I use it in my stories.

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22.02.12