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Multiversity	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 31376 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The authors of this story do not own Gravity Falls, its characters, or its giant lumberjack statue. We made no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3: In the Land of Freckles and Flannel
Five minutes of deep breathing later, Dipper had largely regained his composure, and his ‘dipstick’ (Wendy’s pet name for it, according to his acquired memory) was no longer trying to rip a second fly in the front of his shorts. Thus calmed, he decided to go inside and find Grunkle Stan. The man was pretty much where Dipper thought he’d be: on the sofa, bathed in the blue light of the TV screen as he watched what looked like a badly scripted and poorly acted comedy sketch.
“Hey, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said. “You have a good night?”
“Eh,” the elder Pines said, switching off the television. “Friday Night Prerecorded ain’t what it used to be. You?”
“Uh, not bad,” Dipper said. Then, taking a seat on the couch and swallowing, he asked, “Grunkle Stan, can I ask you a question about, um, dating?”
With a slightly hangdog look, Stan replied, “You can ask, kid, but I gotta warn ya: I’ve been out of the game a while. With the women I can date at my age, relationships only last until her family decides to withdraw life support.”
Dipper waited for a shiver to finish passing through his body, then asked, “How old should a guy be the first time he…does the deed?”
Steepling his fingers, Stan replied, “Hmm…Real estate scams are a tricky business, especially when there’s a woman involved. But you came to the right guy, because- Oh, wait, you were talking about sex.”
His face reddening, Dipper said, “Um, yeah. I mean, how will I know when I’m, uh, ready?”
Stan smiled. “So, things are going well in the land of freckles and flannel, huh? Wait, don’t answer that; I need plausible deniability in case your parents ask questions. In fact, this whole conversation is strictly hypothetical.”
Dipper, starting to worry that Stan was trying to avoid answering his question all together, said, “So, um…”
Stan took a deep breath and said, “Look, Dipper, you’re a levelheaded guy. You’re not the type to let your hormones push you into doing something stupid. Heck, if anything, you’re TOO cautious, at least when it comes to girls.”
Then, putting a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, he added, “My point is, trust yourself. Whenever you decide you’re ready, you will be.”
Dipper smiled. It made him glad to know that his great uncle had such confidence in his judgement—even if Grunkle Stan’s own judgement was a little hit-or-miss.
*          *          *
The next day was not the easiest in Dipper’s lifetime. It was a Saturday—the busiest day of the week at the Mystery Shack—so everyone was on hand. This meant that Dipper frequently found himself in the gift shop with Wendy: sweeping the floor, restocking items, and, per Grunkle Stan’s orders, slapping newly printed stickers on the gumball machine (“Gumballs may or may not contain gum”), the shelf of Mystic Eight Balls (“Investment income, lottery winnings, and buried treasure obtained through the use of a Mystic Eight Ball are the property of StanCo, Ltd”), and the back of Soos’ shirt (“Half Man, Half Potato! Photos $5”). But Dipper and Wendy were almost never alone; Mabel, Soos, or Grunkle Stan always seemed to be in the gift shop for one reason or another, making Dipper feel all the more awkward about his inability even to look at Wendy without thinking about what was going to happen that night. Of course, it didn’t help that Wendy made lascivious gestures at him with her fingers, lips, or tongue whenever they made eye contact and the other people in the room weren’t watching. How could he keep his mind on anything besides the anticipation of having sex with her?
God, sex with Wendy. Just thinking the words made him dizzy with excitement.
But at the same time, he found himself in an ethical quandary—two of them, in fact. So he was a bit relieved when Grunkle Stan sent him to the mini-mall up the road to put Mystery Shack flyers on parked cars, giving Dipper some alone time in which to think.
Both of his dilemmas had to do with the fact that he was only a visitor to this universe and not the Dipper who actually lived here. For one, would it be wrong to have sex with Wendy when he wasn’t exactly the Dipper she thought he was?
In considering this question, Dipper found himself looking back over his alter ego’s life, searching through his various borrowed memories. And he saw that the other Dipper had made all the same decisions that Dipper himself had made—or, in a few cases, the decisions he would have made under the same circumstances. Dipper came to realize that he and his alter ego were not so much different people as the same person living in two different worlds. Which, now that he thought about it, was more or less what Aphrodite had told him.
This resolved the first dilemma but led him to a second one: By going ahead with this, would he be robbing alter-Dipper of the experience of losing his virginity with Wendy? But Dipper remembered that he was actually sharing this body with alter-Dipper, who would no doubt remember the experience as vividly as Dipper himself would.
As he put the last flyer in his stack under someone’s windshield wiper, Dipper also wondered whether these ethical concerns were truly born of his desire to do the right thing, or whether they were just the product of his anxiety about the incredible, overwhelming experience to come. Was he just looking for an excuse to back out?
Jeez, he thought. I’m second guessing my second guessing. I’m third guessing myself.
Ok, if I’m going to overthink something, it should at least be something useful, he resolved. Like, how am I going to make tonight special for Wendy, the way she wants to make it special for me?
He considered various options and rejected them. Giving Wendy candy and flowers seemed cartoonishly trite. And getting dressed up for the occasion wasn’t the kind of thing that would impress her.
Then something came to him—a detail from alter-Dipper’s memories. He hoped it would be as meaningful to Wendy as it was to him, or the other him. So when he returned to the Shack, he quickly tracked down his great uncle.
“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper asked, “can I take an actual lunch break today to run an errand?”
“State law says I have to give you thirty minutes,” the old man replied. “So I’ll give ya fifteen. I call that a reasonable compromise.”
*          *          *
The hours that passed between lunchtime and quitting time seemed interminable. Even after the Shack was closed and the last of the gullible patrons had pulled out of the parking lot, Dipper still had to help Soos clean the bathrooms, help Mabel give the floors one last sweep, and help Grunkle Stan empty the register and count the day’s proceeds.
“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper asked, “how come you always write down the numbers in two different books?”
“One’s for me,” Grunkle Stan replied, “and one’s for Uncle Sam. I keep a, uh, abridged version for his convenience.”
“Aw, that’s nice,” Mabel said as she popped up from behind one of the shelves of the gift shop, where she had apparently been experimenting with wearing the miniature totem-pole keepsakes as hair ornaments. Two of them now stuck up from the crown of her head like antennae.
“Hey Dipster,” Mabel continued, “you wanna come to the toy store with me tonight? I’ll buy you that dorky Captain Admiral comic you’ve been wanting if you’ll be my wingman.”
Dipper felt oddly lucky not to have to make up a lie to get out of that as he said, “Actually, I’ve got plans with Wendy tonight.”
“He sure does,” Wendy said as she entered the room. “Ready to go?”
“Yup,” Dipper replied a bit quickly. “Lemme just grab something out of the fridge.”
He went to the kitchen and retrieved the small cooler he had stowed in the refrigerator. Then he returned to the gift shop, where Wendy was now waiting for him in the doorway.
“Ready,” he said.
“Awesome,” Wendy replied. Then, looking at Stan and Mabel, she added, “Don’t wait up.”
“Ooooooooooh,” Mabel said saucily. “Dipper and Wendy, sittin’ in a tree, F-U-C-”
“Bye!” Dipper cried, seizing Wendy’s hand and dashing out the door.
*          *          *
The floor of the church was a wreck of old and broken pews, except for the clear spot in the middle where Dipper and Wendy now stood. But the light that shone through the big stained glass windows on the western wall bathed the whole place in glorious multicolored luminescence. The fact that the windows were broken in several places added the natural light of the setting sun to the mix, enhancing the warmth of the glow.
“Nice, huh?” Wendy said.
“Wow,” Dipper replied. “It’s amazing.”
Clearly pleased with Dipper’s answer, Wendy said, “I wanted to make sure your first time is special.”
Wait, my first time? Dipper thought. Does this mean Wendy has done this before? His borrowed memories had nothing to say on the subject.
“Um, and yours too, right?” Dipper asked, hoping the question wasn’t so impolitic as to derail the awesome experience that lay ahead.
“Well, yeah,” Wendy replied. “But, you know, it’s not as big a deal for girls.”
Dipper was still considering that when Wendy said, “Now, check this out.”
Wendy opened her large backpack and pulled out a rolled-up plastic air mattress, which she promptly unrolled onto the wooden floor. Then she took out a foot pump, connected the hose to the nozzle on the mattress, and placed the pump on the floor in front of Dipper.
“Wanna pump it up?” Wendy asked saucily.
Dipper’s excitement was finally beginning to overcome his anxiety. Here he was with the girl of his dreams, and not only did she want to have sex with him, but she was bending over backwards to make sure that he enjoyed it. He felt a surge of confidence.
“I’ll pump anything you want me to,” Dipper replied.
“That’s my guy,” Wendy said.
She stood behind him, running her hands over his shoulders and chest as he pumped up the mattress with his foot. When the air mattress seemed to be fully inflated, Wendy threw an old blue blanket over it. Then she lay down on it on her side and looked at Dipper seductively.
“C’mere, you,” she said with a sexy smile.
Dipper took a step toward her, then halted, remembering.
“Wait a sec,” he said, turning to retrieve the little cooler he’d brought with him. “I brought something, too.”
Dipper brought the cooler over to the mattress and sat down next to Wendy while he opened it. Then he pulled out an aluminum drink can.
“VanderMacChangbergson’s Multiethnic Vanilla Cream Soda?” Wendy said, looking at the can with visible confusion.
“We had it on our first date, remember?” Dipper replied. “At the bowling alley.”
Wendy smiled at him.
“Dipper, that’s so sweet.”
Dipper opened the can with a metallic cracking sound, then handed the can to Wendy as he opened a second soda for himself. He raised the can to eye level.
“Here’s to us,” he said with a smile.
Wendy grinned at him as they clunked the aluminum cans together. Then, after taking a sip, she put her soda can down on the floor and leaned in toward Dipper.
“Ready to do this?” she asked.
Beneath her freckles, Dipper could see a touch of pink, and her eyes were big as she looked at his face.
She wants me, Dipper said to himself. Wendy Corduroy wants me. Then, to savor the thought for one more moment, he replayed it in his head, this time with a different emphasis: Wendy Corduroy wants me.
Any remaining hesitancy was gone now. He was going to make crazy naked love with his perfect girl, and all his anxiety and self-doubt and need to over-analyze every little thing could go and suck it.
“Definitely,” he breathed.
He kissed her, softly at first, then quickly escalating to passionate, open-mouthed making out. He moved forward until his body was pressed against hers, and the next thing he knew, he was leaning into her, his top half gently but insistently pushing hers down until she was lying down on the mattress with Dipper on top of her.
“Oh, yeah!” Wendy said with lusty enthusiasm. “That’s my little seventh-grade stud!”
“Technically,” Dipper replied, acting on what he knew about this universe’s Wendy, “I’m closer to sixth grade, since I only finished a month ago.”
Wendy’s fingers began fumbling with the buttons of her flannel shirt as the teen girl panted, “God, Dipper, are you trying to make me come before we’re even naked?”
Dipper sat up and pulled his own shirt off as he replied boldly, “Before, during, and after, if I’ve got anything to say about it.”
The millisecond Dipper’s shirt was off, Wendy pulled him back down onto her and kissed him savagely. Her shirt was fully open now, and Dipper felt the heat of her bare skin against his, and the hardness of her nipples as they pressed insistently against his chest through the thin cotton of her plain white bra.
When they broke off the kiss to gasp for breath, Dipper realized that although Wendy’s bra didn’t look like anything special, she had clearly worn it specifically for him, because it was the kind that fastened in the front. The realization further stoked his confidence, spurring Dipper to unsnap the bra and pull the cups aside to reveal Wendy’s small, freckled, pink-nippled breasts.
“Oooh,” Wendy said teasingly, “does my little man want to play with- Ohjesusfuck!” she cried as Dipper’s mouth engulfed one of her nipples and began to suck vigorously.
“Oh God, Dipper!” Wendy gasped, throwing her head back and winding her fingers in Dipper’s hair as if to ensure that his mouth didn’t leave her small breast for even a moment. “Yes, baby, keep sucking, suck them for me, it feels so good…”
Dipper wasn’t about to stop. The feel of Wendy’s nipple in his mouth made him want to suck harder, to swallow her whole breast, her whole body if he could. And her sounds of pleasure were making him all the more aroused.
As he switched rapidly to Wendy’s other breast, making the girl gasp, one of her hands let go of his head and went down his neck and back, over his bottom, and then down somewhere below. A metallic jingling sound made Dipper realize that Wendy was undoing her belt. Then he felt her fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of his shorts. He lifted his hips to make it easier for her but didn’t stop sucking and tonguing her nipple.
Even as Wendy’s hand dove inside Dipper’s shorts to find his cock, the boy reached down to seek a prize of his own. It wasn’t hard to find; the moist heat emanating from Wendy’s vagina was so intense that his hand could sense it from a foot away. And when his hand reached inside her plain white panties to find the source of that heat, both the panties and her vagina were soaking wet.
He found the right spot and rubbed it with one finger while his others stroked and explored others. It seemed that, thankfully, alter-Dipper had learned a few things from Wendy about the clitoris and the proper handling thereof.
“God, Dipper…” Wendy moaned as his fingers probed her, “this is so good…”
“Oh, yeah,” Dipper gasped, even as Wendy’s hand wrapped around his cock and began pumping him slowly.
After only half a minute of this treatment, Dipper found himself gasping, “Wendy…I’m not sure…how much longer…I can last… “
Wendy, clearly extremely aroused herself, let go of Dipper’s cock and breathed, “Then I guess we’d better hurry up and get your dipstick inside me.”
Dipper suddenly froze as he realized that there was something important that he hadn’t thought about until now.
“Omigosh,” he exclaimed. “I don’t have- I didn’t bring any-”
“Relax, Dip,” Wendy said. “I’ve got my brand-new diaphragm in. And since we’re both virgins, I’m not worried about the VD thing.”
She rolled over on top of him and straddled his hips.
“Now, check my oil already,” she said with a wolfish smile.
Dipper reached down, took hold of his cock, and held it upright. His member was so hard now that it scarcely seemed like it could be part of a human body, let alone Dipper’s own body.
“Ready,” he breathed.
Wendy lifted herself up just enough to let Dipper position his cockhead against her slick-wet opening. The mere sensation of her intense heat and wetness made him almost delirious with pleasure and excitement.
“Here we go,” Wendy gasped.
She began to lower herself onto him, and Dipper felt her pussy grip him like a soft, strong hand, sliding down his length as it took hold of him.
A memory—one of his own this time—came unbidden, a memory of a book he had read as a child that explained where babies came from. It had described intercourse as a special kind of hug, and only now did Dipper understand how strangely apt that description was.
“Ohhhhh,” he and Wendy sighed in unison.
She eased down slowly, obviously savoring the sensation of taking him into her. And then her thighs were resting on his, and her face was smiling down at him.
“Welcome aboard, dude,” Wendy said, her eyes full of that special brand of mischievous joy that had made Dipper fall for her in the first place.
“Happy to be here,” Dipper replied.
Wendy leaned down and kissed him. Then she straightened up again, and now Dipper’s eyes could take her in fully: her red hair, aglow with the last light of sunset; her impishly smiling eyes; her freckled cheeks; her long, graceful neck; her small, pert breasts, nipples upturned with arousal; her pale, flat stomach, also decorated with a few freckles and a feminine, oval-shaped navel; and the little red tuft above her mound, now meshed with his own wispy pubic hair.
Wow, she’s perfect, he thought.
Wordlessly, she began to move. At first, it was just a slow, simple up and down, and Dipper moved with her as best he could, his body instinctively seeking the right motion and rhythm to derive as much pleasure as possible from their mating. And Wendy’s body was clearly doing the same thing, because after a while, her simple rise and fall began to change, evolving into a complex movement of her hips that still went up and down but also forward and back in a sinuous, undulating pattern that had no clear beginning or end. Wendy’s eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted, as though she were deep in concentration, focusing solely on moving and refining that movement so as to derive maximum pleasure from it.
Dipper had no idea how long it went on; he was lost in the sensations, and in the sheer magnificence of his partner, his lover. But at some point, he felt his fingers tighten their grip on Wendy’s hips as his body started to demand more. The pace of his upward thrusts grew faster, and his movements became more forceful as something inside him urged him on. Wendy responded, moving faster, breathing harder, forcing him into her as vigorously as he now needed her to.
“Wendy…” he gasped. “It’s…it’s too…I can’t…hold back….much…longer…”
“Just…a little more,” Wendy panted, demanding, pleading. “I just…need…a little more!”
Not pausing her movement in the slightest, Wendy started rubbing her clit vigorously, almost frantically.
Dipper was becoming almost desperate. He needed to come, and he was going to, any second now. But he didn’t want to do it without Wendy.
But even in a desperate situation, there was always some part of Dipper’s brain that continued to think rationally. And right now, that part of his brain was thinking back to several minutes earlier, when Wendy was gasping and moaning softly in response to Dipper’s sucking her nipples.
His hands let go of Wendy’s hips and moved upward to grasp each of Wendy’s nipples between thumb and forefinger. And then, gently and gradually, increasing the pressure with which he squeezed them.
“AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAH!” Wendy screamed, and then her pussy was contracting spasmodically around Dipper’s cock and the boy couldn’t hold back another second.
“YAAAAAH!” he shouted, releasing Wendy’s nipples, grabbing her hips, and holding on for dear life as he came and came inside her.
When it was over, Wendy fell forward and lay on top of Dipper as they both gasped for breath. It was almost a full minute before Dipper managed to collect enough spare oxygen to speak.
“That…was…amazing,” he gasped.
“Seriously,” Wendy panted.
As they continued to lie there, naked bodies pressed together, Dipper soon discovered something else amazing: that the sensation of Wendy’s soft breasts and hard nipples against his chest, the smell of her, and the feel of her torso where his arms wrapped around her were already beginning to restore his erection. It seemed that Dipper’s returning tumescence was palpable to Wendy, too, because she soon rolled off of Dipper and reached down to gently massage his cock to greater hardness.
“Wanna go again?” she asked with that mischievous smile.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Dipper replied, “Oh yeah.”
For almost two hours they went at it, trying different positions and experimenting with new ways of pleasuring each other. Sometimes it was slow and intense; other times it was vigorous to the point that each seemed to be trying to pound an orgasm out of the other. And in between, they drank vanilla soda and bantered as they rested up for the next round.
When exhaustion finally struck and they decided to call it a night, Wendy pulled some wet wipes out of her bag so that they could go home not reeking of sweat and sex.
“This was an awesome night, Dipper,” Wendy said, facing away from him as the boy finished wiping down her bare back.
“Yeah, it really was,” Dipper replied. “Thanks for…for making it so special.”
As she fastened her plain white bra, the redhead went on, “I’m so glad we’ve got the rest of the summer to hang out. And a couple more summers after that, if you end up coming back here.”
Dipper had recently started thinking about the next summer, and whether he and Mabel would return to Gravity Falls. This was an awfully powerful incentive to come back—for alter-Dipper, if not for himself. But something Wendy had said confused him.
“Why only a couple more summers?” he asked.
“Well, you know,” Wendy replied, seemingly a bit puzzled by the question. “In two years, you’ll be a freshman in high school. And I’ll be a senior.”
“Right,” Dipper said, his confusion growing. “So…why does that make a difference?”
As Wendy shrugged on her flannel shirt, her expression went from puzzled to downright confused.
“Dipper, we can’t keep dating when we’re both in high school,” she answered, as though she were stating the painfully obvious. “I mean, how would that look?”
Still not getting it, Dipper struggled blindly forward anyway.
“But…it’s not like we’d be going to the same high school,” he answered. “And even if we were, why- why would it matter how it looks?” A plaintive tone crept unwanted into his voice as he asked, “Don’t you- I mean, aren’t we-”
“Dipper,” Wendy said, dropping to one knee to be at eye level with him, “you’re a great guy, and we have a lot of fun together.”
Dipper’s chest tightened, as though his heart were bracing itself.
“But,” she continued, “I’m not in love with you. I thought you understood that.”
In an instant, many memories—his own and alter-Dipper’s—flooded through his head. Signs he had chosen to ignore or tried to rationalize away now came back to him, up to and including the moment this very night when Wendy hadn’t remembered a detail from their first date that alter-Dipper had treasured. And now Dipper realized that his counterpart in this universe had been just as much in denial as Dipper himself had.
Head hanging, Dipper said, “I guess I do now.”
Suddenly, there was a sensation like a huge hand seizing him from above and lifting him out of his body. He was pulled upward so rapidly that the dark sky around him became a blur, and then he found himself in his body again, back in Aphrodite’s clearing in the forest. The goddess’ expression was unreadable as she looked at him, taking a drag on her cigarette.
Not even caring where he was or whose presence he was in, Dipper leaned back against a tree and then slumped to the ground.
“Looks like things didn’t go so well,” Aphrodite observed.
Dipper remained where he was, looking down into his lap.
“I- I always thought,” he managed, “that it was just the age thing. That if it were normal for people our age to date, that, that it could work.” His face fell into his hands as he added, “But it can’t work. She…she doesn’t love me.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Aphrodite replied. “I’m sorry, kid.”
A thought struck Dipper, and he suddenly looked up at her with wild-eyed hope.
“But maybe,” he started desperately, “maybe the Wendy in my universe-”
“No,” the love goddess interrupted. “Wendy is Wendy, in any universe. Just like Dipper is Dipper. You know that.”
Dipper said nothing.
“Painful stuff, I know,” Aphrodite said. “You and Wendy just aren’t meant to be together.”
“Then why did you put me through that? Why couldn’t you just tell me?”
“You’re barely taking your own word for it. Would you have taken mine?”
Dipper sighed deeply. “You’re right. I had to find out for myself.”
“Besides, it wasn’t all bad,” the goddess added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Now you’ve got some experience. And there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
“I don’t like fish,” Dipper grumbled, annoyed by this so-called deity’s use of a pat saying instead of imparting anything like real wisdom.
“You might want to keep an open mind about that,” Aphrodite replied enigmatically. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s get you to your next stop.”
“Honestly,” Dipper sighed, “I don’t know if I want to keep- AAAAAAH!”
Dipper suddenly found himself tumbling through nothingness again, and it was all he could do not to keep screaming as gravity and G-forces played hell with his brain and stomach. And then, just as suddenly, the world was no longer spinning, and he was in the dark.
He seemed to be lying down. Maybe in bed? He couldn’t be sure; the sudden tumble through interdimensional space had done a number on his proprioception and sense of touch.
His eyes still worked, though, and he now saw that he wasn’t total darkness. There was a familiar blue glow that he quickly recognized as that of the clock-radio next to his bed at the Mystery Shack.
Did I dream all of that? he thought. Am I just…waking up?
But although his vision told him that he was home, his other senses were beginning to indicate that something was very much out of the ordinary. As his sense of touch returned, he could feel someone there with him—beneath him, in fact. A girl, judging by the softness of her body and how nice she smelled. The smell was very familiar, too.
A pair of soft lips touched his. Whoever she was, her kiss was sweet and delicate. And her mouth tasted sweet, too, almost like…
…rainbow sprinkles?
Then those lips, brushing his ear like the wings of a butterfly, whispered to him.
“That was nice, Bro-Bro.”
Dipper’s body froze. And yet he still managed to speak, albeit in the barest squeak.
“Oh boy.”
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