Popeye and the Hillbilly Woman, part 2
By Marknew 742
The Wedding Night


Ella Mae emerges from the Justice of the Peace's office with her new husband
still inside her dress, his involuntary, inarticulate gasps of pleasure
misunderstood, or possibly properly understood, by the JP as assents to the
marriage.

"First a little shoppin'," Ella Mae declares, "'cause I'm learnin' lots ‘bout
nutrition from mah may-an!". She skips down the road to the general store,
where she stocks up on spinach seeds, spinach plants and several cases of
canned spinach to use until her new plants are fully grown. She stuffs her
purchases into a large sack and ties it to her waist. Popeye eyes the mounds
and mounds of fresh spinach sitting so very close to him and struggles to grab
a bunch of spinach leaves from the sack, but his arms are wrapped around Ella
Mae's curvy body and trapped snugly inside Ella Mae's dress. No matter how
hard he tries he can't pull them out.

"Oooh, oooh OOOOOH! I jus' LOVE the way you TOUCH me! Yer so frisky and sweet,
like a lil' puppy! Mah may-an -- Ah mean mah HUSBAN' MAY-AN -- is SO impatien
to make love to me for the first time!" Ella Mae giggles, pulling him to her
even more tightly and crushing the breath out of him. "And now, mah darlin',
we're off to our new home, " Ella Mae says and enthusiastically leaps home,
covering the miles through the bewildering twists and turns of the backroads,
hills and forests in massive jumps, her meaty hand squeezing Popeye's butt and
holding him safely inside her dress until they reach her humble two-room
shack. "Now close yer eyes, sweetie, while I change into the special weddin'
night nitie Momma made for me!" Ella Mae says. She lifts up her dress and
frees Popeye, then dances into the back room, humming the wedding march.

Popeye carefully opens his eyes. Her back is turned as she buries her hands
deep inside a trunk of clothing to find her special gown. He is alone for the
first time in hours. He can run away now. Two cases of spinach lie on the
floor in front of him. Just what he needs to be sure of his escape! He rips
open the box and downs one can and then another. The familiar energy flows
through him as the trumpets blare. His muscles swell back to their usual size
and then grow some more, shredding the rest of his already damaged sailor
suit. A series of pictures appears on his biceps showing prison bars bending,
handcuffs shattering and muscles bursting through chains.

"Here I am!" Ella Mae says, holding her arms out to him. Her "nitie" is a red
cotton bustier that would have been small on a girl half her size, but on her
it's like a second skin, the overmatched material showing far more of her
shape than it conceals. Popeye has never seen breasts so large, so round and
so firm. Each time she moves, her breasts stretch her top in an entirely new
way. And then there are her arms. How can she still be so large and powerful?
The spinach surely should be worn off by now! It never lasts more than half an
hour for him! She's still so much bigger than he is, her biceps still twice
his size.

"Why, mah may-an's already shed his lil' sailor suit! He's all ready fer me!"
A new banjo in hand, she sings, beaming with joy,

"My may-an is here.
He's waiting for me
For always for ever
Together we'll be.
Adorable sweetheart,
As cute as can be,
E'en after his spinach,
He's weaker than me!
Yes after his spinach,
He's weaker than me!"

As she sings she sways back and forth, edging closer and closer, her hips
swiveling hypnotically with the simple beat of the tune, her breasts swinging
even more wildly up and down inside her top, while her thick abdominals danced
their own counter-rhythm. Now is his chance to escape but his arms feel heavy
and slow, his legs as unable to move as if they are chained to the floor. He
just can't stop watching her, still strumming her banjo, still dancing closer,
still singing,

"My may-an is so gen'rous,
So sweet and so kind,
He'll give me his muscle,
His heart and his mind!
He'll always love Ella,
Our two hearts entwined
As my strength keeps risin',
While his falls behind!
Yes, my strength keeps risin',
And his falls behind!

She is right upon him now, towering over him, blocking any exit, her enormous
breasts nearly hitting him as they bounce heavily around his head like
punching bags as she dances. Their movement beneath her top makes him dizzy
with desire, unlike anything he has ever experienced. On the verge of being
overwhelmed by her display of sexuality, Popeye grasps her by the waist to
move her aside and flee, but her abdominal muscles feel like iron, and he can
hardly grip her, much less lift her.

"Oh darlin'! Don't tire yerself out tryin' to take me! I'm gonna take you!"
She lifts him as though he weighs nothing and again kisses him deeply. Her
breasts press against him, her nipples thicken and push into his chest, her
abs ripple like the sweep of an incoming wave at the beach as she rubs her
body on his, and the scent of her arousal stokes his hunger like the smell of
a roast nearly done. Savoring the kiss, she lets his body slide down against
hers, enjoying the feeling of his face along her breasts. Meanwhile, as
Popeye's feet reach the floor a new wave of weakness runs through him. His
arms and legs once again surrender their spinach-fueled size and power, all of
which flow straight to his already stiff member, which thickens and hardens
like steel, rising twice as powerfully as before, and pushes insistently
against Ella Mae's muscled thigh.

"Is that yer wedding present fer me? It's beautiful!" she declares. Ella Mae
bends her knees, spreads her legs slightly to fit Popeye's between hers, and
slowly takes his throbbing tool inside her. She wraps her hand around his butt
and begins lifting him in and out of her, pumping his rod with hearty
enthusiasm. His arms bend helplessly against her body as he tries to stop her.
Never in the eighty years of Popeye history has he allowed Olive even to come
close to touching his most intimate, personal part. And never has he permitted
any release of his precious essence, whether with a woman, or even alone in
his bunk. But there is no way he can stop himself now; her rhythm is
irresistible. Faster and faster she moves him, in and out, in and out, in and
out and in and out. He tries desperately to hold back, but the sensations are
too much for him, and eighty years of accumulated, suppressed desire burst out
in a jet propelled flood that fills Ella Mae's waiting vagina and sparks her
own fevered orgasm that in a three minute series of powerful pulses pumps
Popeye dry. He falls limp against her body and she holds him up to look into
his dazed eyes, happily regarding her potent lover, joyful at the consummation
of their union.

But is not just ordinary semen from Popeye now filling Ella Mae. During the
eighty years since he was first drawn, thousands of doses of spinach have
powered his muscles, only to wear off at the first stirrings of any
post-battle arousal, a physical reaction unavoidable for any healthy, mature
man, no matter how G-Rated he is, no matter how much he has disregarded his
needs as a sexual being. Popeye's Puritanical morals blinded him to the
workings of his libido and kept him from making the connection between his
sexual desires, no matter how deeply suppressed, and his loss of spinach
power. His platonic attachment to the sexless Olive Oyl kept his arousal level
at a minimum, just enough to drain his spinach power slowly. It appeared to
him that spinach was simply a power charge of limited duration. What did it
matter, the simple, unscientific sailor assumed? Spinach wears off. Sex and
spinach are everywhere, sex, an evil to be avoided and spinach, a boon to be
indulged in repeatedly. And, finally, spinach and girls don't mix. These
simple untruths have guided him through life. Until now.

These are the truths. Spinach never wears off. Spinach works better for girls
than for men. The chemistry of male arousal draws the spinach power to the
testes. The chemistry of female arousal, which the sexless Olive has never
truly felt, makes it bind with muscle. Permanently.

And if you think sex is evil ... Well, then you shouldn't be reading this!

Ella Mae is basking in the afterglow, just beginning to feel the stirrings of
desire for her next round with Popeye, when the accumulation of spinach
essence collected in his balls from eighty years of eating one or two cans of
spinach every day, and now deposited deep within her, spreads through her body
and fills her suddenly with a warmth and an energy unknown to any mortal,
other than the select few who are female characters in Marknew stories. The
spinach theme sounds, first a single banjo, then ten, a hundred, a thousand,
ten thousand, thirty thousand, fifty thousand, one for each can of spinach
consumed by her lover and stored, unknowingly for her on her wedding night.
Primed by her sexual arousal for her man, the spinach receptors in her muscles
bond instantly with the torrents of spinach essence circulating through her
system, becoming larger and denser with each second. Popeye is weightless to
her now, like an appendage of her own hand. "Oh darlin'!" she says. "If I'd a
ever know'd ...."

As the music plays, an ultra-high definition image appears on Ella Mae's bare
stomach, a picture of a can of spinach as tall as Popeye, with Popeye standing
beside it trying desperately to pry it open using a can opener far too small
for the task. He pounds his fists against it in frustration, without effect.
As he does so, it grows larger and larger, as high as Ella Mae's shack, then
as high as the tree in her garden, then taller and taller until it stands
taller the Empire State Building its spire reaching only as high as the
"Spinach" lettering across the can. Now, Popeye is just a tiny figure at the
base of the can, still punching at it ineffectively. Ella Mae is standing on
the opposite side. The image zooms closer, and with a single blow she punches
a hole in the can and inserts the large end of a funnel inside. Placing the
smaller end in her mouth, she sucks all of the sky-scraping mound of spinach
out in less than ten seconds until the power of Ella Mae's suction collapses
the can down to a flat disc. The picture of Ella Mae grows as tall as the can
had been, leaving Popeye a mere speck on the edge of her pinkie toe.

The music plays more loudly, and the real Ella Mae flexes her large, round
biceps in turn and a series of ultra-high definition pictures flash by, each
shining with more power than the one preceding it. The left bicep flexes and
flashes a picture of a camera battery, the right a AAA battery, the left a car
battery, the right an electric car fuel cell, the left a windmill, the right a
river mill, the left hydroelectric plant, the right the Three Gorges Electric
Project, the left the sun, the right a blue giant star, the left a globular
cluster of stars, the right the Milky Way Galaxy.

"I cants see!" Popeye cries out, covering his eyes. Ella Mae relaxes her arms
and puts them down at her sides, ending the light show, but the music
continues even more loudly. She squeezes her firm breasts together, and a new
ultra-high definition image appears on the creamy skin of her breasts. In the
picture, she is standing with one hand on her hips, her breasts thrust out
proudly, while holding Popeye under her other arm against them. Her breast is
far larger than his head, and she eases her long nipple into his mouth. He
swallows furiously, trying to keep up with the milk flooding from her, and as
he does he grows rounder and fatter, his cheeks puffing out, his arms becoming
soft and jiggly, his stomach protruding like a baby's. "Kitchee, kicheee koo!"
the image of Ella Mae is saying. "How's my little darlin'? My darlin' lil
baby!"

"No, no, no!!" Popeye shouts, startling Ella Mae, who drops him. Popeye
scrambles across the room and scoops all of the spinach from the fresh plants
and stuffs it into his mouth and then pops open the remaining thirty cans of
spinach and downs them while Ella Mae frowns.

"Why'd you go an' do that, honey? Don't you know those 'er fer plantin!'" Ella
Mae complains.

"'Cause that's all I can stand, I can't stands no more," he declares as the
spinach makes a great lump in his stomach. Never has he eaten so much spinach
at once. With his tune played by an ear-splitting chorus of trumpets, the lump
rises to his chest and then spreads out to his shoulders and then his arms,
creating a tower of muscle upon muscle upon muscle, like a pile of
progressively smaller building blocks higher even than his head.

"Awww, that's so cute!" Ella Mae says, flexing her biceps and producing her
own tower of muscles far higher than his, with her muscle building blocks
starting out larger and increasing in size at they reach higher.

"Whoa!" he says, frowning. He puts his arms down and pushes out his chest, his
muscles pumping his chest up and down faster and faster like a motor gathering
power and speed.

Ella Mae giggles. "Awww, you're so funny, honeybunch!". She holds her arms at
her side and pushes out her chest so far that her nipple touches his,
producing a spark that stops the "motor" cold. "You're gonna get yourself all
tuckered out!" she teases, "and we got lots more lovin' to do!"

"Oh no we don't!" Popeye declares, covering his waist with a towel and turning
to go. "I said I've had alls I can stand and --

"And I say we do," Ella Mae counters, stepping right up into their first
marital spat.

"Not ifs I kin help it!" he replies, striking his most muscular "most
muscular" pose. On his abdomen an image appears of the muscular Popeye, his
sailor suit now blue, with a red cape and an emblem "SP" on his broad chest.

"Well that's fine! 'Cause you can't!" she said conclusively, striking her own
more muscular "most muscular" pose. All her muscles tense, and her powerful
pectorals raise her breasts and extend them outwards toward Popeye, making his
eyes bulge. He wants to look away but he can't. Around her pubis, a large,
ultra-high definition image of a large magnet appears and as her hips and
shoulders sway seductively, force lines emerge from the magnet aimed at his
most personal part.

"Whoa!" Popeye says, staring at Ella Mae's sensual dance. For the third time
today, he feels the strength from the spinach drain away while his tool starts
to grow to unusual proportions. "Oh no! Not again!"

"Oh, yes, darlin'" Ella Mae replies. She moves closer and places her hands on
Popeye's rapidly shrinking shoulders. "Agin 'n agin 'n again!". The magnet
looms larger and shifts its angle, continuing to point directly at his rapidly
stiffening member, which bursts through the towel and points back at the
magnet.

"Ya cants do this to me!" Popeye complains, his arms now as thin as when he
started. "Ya keeps undoing my spinach!"

Ella Mae pulls him inside her. " I'm jus' movin' it around darlin'. Mmmmmm!
And around and around and around!" she purrs contentedly, looking forward to
the next torrent of spinach-cum from her ma-yan, her may-an, her ma-a-a-a-a-an
and singing,

His strong days are finished

'Cause I get the spinach

From Popeye my sailor man!

OOOOH OOOOH!