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Smells Like Teen Spurts	By : Nastyzak Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 15483 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls or the characters, and I don't make any money from writing.

Chapter List
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10. Among Friends
1
The girls’ periods did begin early on Monday, so synched that all three of them started in the same forty-five minute time span. Their PMS hadn’t been too bad, after all—Pacifica and Tambry got a little snippy with each other, and Wendy became moody and quiet for a while, but that was all. To Dipper’s surprise, once their periods began, they all felt even hornier, and they found alternatives to fucking.
Since, like Wendy, Tambry and Pacifica had developed much more sensitive areolas and nipples, the tit-fuck idea proved to be a big hit. Pacifica and Tambry patched up their minor quarrel while they cooperated, using their now bigger, softer, warm boobs to double up on Dipper.
They pleasantly surprised him, and as he leaned back in an armless chair while Tambry and Pacifica knelt on either side of him, he learned that tit-fucking two girls at once while they pressed together, embraced, and kissed each other passionately was somewhat more exciting than one, even though that one was his favorite. With their breasts pressing not only his dick but each other’s rack, nipple to nipple, both Tambry and Pacifica had satisfactory climaxes.
The experience also put them in a better mood. They even allowed Wendy the first gulp when he came. Then, as they orally swapped cum back and forth, the blonde and the brunette sighed and smiled. Soon, having showered, brushed, and rinsed and carrying a couple of spiked protein drinks and a cheerful outlook, they drove off together to Pacifica’s office.
Wendy also had to go to work, but she said, “Just checked with Rudy on the phone. Looks like it’s gonna be a nothing day except for driving around some this morning and inspecting a couple jobs we’ve got going. Unless someone comes in and wants their kitchen cabinetry replaced or some deal, after lunch I may blow off the rest of the workday, come home, and just lay around and rest. I’ll need to change my tampon at lunchtime anyhow, and I can give the excuse of not having one in my purse.”
Dipper was learning more than he really wanted to about the internal plumbing of the girls. All three of them used tampons instead of pads, and it surprised him to hear that they had to dispose of used ones and insert fresh ones every four hours during the day. “Mabel never told you about stuff like this?” Wendy had asked when Dipper looked a little uncomfortable as the three girls talked about the best brands of tampon.
“No, she knows stuff like this squicks me out,” he said.
That Monday morning, noticing how he winced even when she mentioned the excuse story, Wendy grinned at him. “No big deal. It’s just the facts of life, man. Okay, I’m showered, I’ve brushed my teeth and gargled, all that good stuff, so I’m taking off for work now. Could you do me a big favor and do some laundry this morning while I’m gone? We’ve messed up two sets of sheets and they need washing and drying. Also, you’re getting low on shorts and shirts. You know how to separate it and--?”
“I did my laundry at college,” he assured her. “I’m housebroken.”
“Okay, then. You didn’t bring much in the way of underwear, do that with the sheets and that should make up two loads washing and drying. Me, I’d do the underwear and tee shirts first, toss in the sheets with those, and the pants and colored clothes second. You know where everything is. See you at noon, Dip.”
“Drive carefully. After the thaw yesterday and the freeze last night, the roads are probably icy.”
“I got my snow tires on. I can deal with ice. See you at lunchtime.”
They didn’t kiss—that was a drawback of the way Dipper’s body generated sexy pheromones. None of them was sure, not even Stanford, but there was at least a chance that if they swapped spit, the girls would have Dipper on their breaths, and then some fresh complication might break out.
Left alone, Dipper didn’t really mind the chore of doing laundry any longer. He had put off washing his clothes as long as possible when he was a kid, but as he grew into his teens, he had discovered that a powerful body odor wasn’t to his advantage. It didn’t attract girls and did attract bullies, so . . . he washed clothes now without more than token complaint.
Around ten-thirty, with the first load in the dryer and the second in the wash, he called his gruncle Stanford at the Mystery Shack to ask about progress. “I’m very hopeful,” Stanford said. “I’ve asked McGucket for help. He doesn’t know the whole story or who I’m doing this for, but he’s invented a thing he calls the razzmatazzajigger that essentially speeds up organic chemical reactions by bombarding the materials with an energy beam. He says he reckons that by a week from Friday at the latest, the stuff will be as ripe as a month of ordinary brewing would make it.”
“So . . . the vaccine will be ready then?”
“Maybe even by Wednesday of next week, with luck,” Stanford said. “Once it’s ready, I’ll test it on a couple of lab mice to make sure it doesn’t have dangerous side effects. It shouldn’t, because each dose will be tailored for your or the girls’ personal body chemistry. Anyway, by a week from Sunday I hope to administer the serum to you four.”
“How quickly will it work?”
“That is difficult to say,” Stanford told him. “The plant, um, infection has had a while to establish itself. My judgement tells me that with the serum circulating in your systems, the effects of the plant should steadily diminish over the course of a week or ten days until your body ceases to produce the pheromone altogether. I’ll monitor you all closely during that time.”
“Thanks, gruncle Ford,” Dipper said.
His uncle chuckled. “You know, Mason, in many ways I’m grateful for being abnormal to the extent of not feeling sexual attraction. It makes for a lonely life, but an uncomplicated one. If I’m not prying, may I ask if you plan to continue your relationships with the three young ladies after the serum takes effect?”
“I don’t know,” Dipper said. “I won’t lie, this is a fantastic arrangement, but it’s not just my call to make. The girls will all have to decide, too. Wendy says—maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”
“Whatever you wish, but I will hold anything you tell me in confidence.”
Dipper thought for a minute. “Okay, Wendy says that both Tambry and Pacifica are calmer and happier than she’s ever known them to be. And she says she feels a lot more upbeat and energetic. And the four of us are great together. So I’ll leave the decision to them. If they want to continue, uh, you know, seeing me and the others, then I’m fine with that. I only hope that Wendy and I can stick together afterward.”
“You’re worried about people finding out and possibly ostracizing the young ladies?”
“This is a small town, and people love gossip,” Dipper told him.
“There is a simple solution to the awkwardness, you know,” Stanford said. “The peculiar laws of Gravity Falls.”
Dipper frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, you already know that here it’s legal for people to marry woodpeckers, raccoons, and badgers and so on. Not many people take advantage of that any longer, but it’s still legal. Similarly, polygamous and polyandrous marriages are legal.”
“Wait, what? Do you mean we could all four be married? To each other?”
“Certainly,” Stanford said. “It’s an obscure law, dating back to the founding of the town, but it remains on the books. One reason that it’s fallen out of use is that it requires individual marriages within the group. That means that if it were two men and one woman, say, both men would have to marry the woman, the woman would have to marry both men, and the men would have to marry each other. Years ago that was impossible everywhere in the country except here in our county, but for about four or five years now same-sex marriages are quite legal in Oregon. Still, for heterosexuals the concept of being married to someone of one’s own gender may be a turn-down.”
“I think you mean turn-off,” Dipper said, smiling. “But Wendy, Tambry, and Pacifica are all bisexual, and they’ve all had, um, relationships before. I mean each of them has had relations with both of the other two. They probably wouldn’t seriously object to that kind of marriage.”
“Broach it to them, then.”
Dipper rubbed his forehead. “So . . . Wendy would marry Tambry and Pacifica as well as me, and they’d each marry her and me. This is sort of blowing my mind.”
“Now there’s a slang term I recall from my youth!” Stanford said.
“I think I picked it up from gruncle Stan,” Dipper said.
“No doubt. Well, anyway a group marriage is possible. Such an arrangement would certainly require great compatibility,” Stanford said. “If I were you, I’d learn if the girls wanted to continue, as you say, seeing you and each other. Assuming that would be so, then try it for a few months. Then if things go smoothly, you might bring up the possibility of a marriage.”
Dipper admitted, “That idea sounds great. But scary!”
“Another reason why I’m happy being asexual,” Ford said. “It makes such anxieties no problem at all.”

2
Right after his call to his gruncle, Dipper made a second call, this one to two people down in Silicon Valley, only one of whom he’d met in person. Still, he had talked to both Marc and his girlfriend Bettany back before New Year’s, though they’d ended the conversation with matters unresolved. Marc took the call, said, “Oh, yeah, Pines! I’m glad you phoned. Hang on and I’ll get Bettany in for a conference call.” A couple minutes of silence passed, and then Marc was back: “Got you on speaker now. So, Pines, how’s life been treating you since graduation?”
“Surprisingly well,” Dipper said.
“Got a job yet?”
“No. That’s the reason for the call.”
“Great! Here’s Bettany. Bett, Mr. Pines is on the line.”
“Call me Dipper,” he reminded both Marc and Bett.
“Hi, Dipper!” said Bettany Zaleski. “We haven’t heard from you since December. Hey, our site is counting down to the big launch! Have you thought about it? Are you going to join us?”
“Well,” Dipper said, “let’s talk about that.”
It was a tempting offer. The pay wasn’t all that great, working out to about thirty thousand a year. Not awful, but not great. He wouldn’t have to worry about rent or travel, for one thing, since with his computer he could theoretically work from anywhere. Just to be sure, he asked, “And I could do all the writing, proofing, and editing from home, right?”
Marc said, “Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t ever have to come to the office unless you just want to. And if you want to write some articles you could get some extra pay, like maybe two hundred for a short piece. I’m sorry we can’t offer you a salary like you’d get at a print mag, but, hey, we’re gonna be a crowd-funded web site and a weekly podcast. We’re close to the minimum number of subscribers on board now for the launch, and we’ll see if we can build the base. I promise that if it shakes out and we do well, we’ll talk about a raise in six months.”
“Sounds good,” Dipper said. He’d been jotting notes. First off the bat, they’d launch the website with twenty permanent pages about paranormal legends, localities, creatures, and events, and they’d add more content biweekly. The site, ProfoundPara, aimed to distance itself from what Bettany called “woo sites” by balancing investigation with anecdote, by presenting professional-level, documented reports, and by, as Mac said, “Filtering out the bullshit but leaving the door open to things still unexplained.”
Dipper gave them a qualified yes to the job offer. “Let me try it and see how I do,” he said.
Marc laughed. “Man, you saved my ass in grad school! I know you can totally do the proofreading and the research, and I know you’ve written some good pieces, even if they’re not published. I’m gonna email you a batch of ten articles. What I want you to do is electronically edit them and correct them and get them back ASAP. Also, you showed me that piece you did on dimensional theory, remember? You still have a copy?”
“On my laptop,” he said.
“Send it to me so Bettany can read it. It’s your writing sample, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Turn the articles around soon as you can. Read for substance, style, and all the grammar shit, too. Make sure the citations are bona fide and correctly formatted and all. Soon as Bett and I review them, we’ll get a contract to you for . . . six months? Twenty-five hundred a month, payable on the first?”
“Sounds good,” Dipper said. “I’ll send you my essay as soon as we’re done here, and I’ll get to the articles as soon as I get time tomorrow morning.”
The essay went out, the articles came in, and Dipper skimmed them: UFOs. An exposé of a famous but faked haunting in Delaware. Historical article about sea serpents. Pros and cons for the possible existence of Sasquatch, alleged Chupacabra bodies, more like that. It was all the kind of stuff that he loved to read anyhow. The articles ranged from two to eight thousand words, and a quick scan of two showed him a few tweaks an editor should make to improve them.
He took a deep breath, exhaled, and sat and thought about how he was feeling. He was still unsure about even opening the subject of a group marriage to the girls. His impulse was to discuss it with them, but maybe Ford was right and it was better to leave that until their compulsion to have intercourse or service him with fellatio had dulled its edge.
Whatever happened, though, and he hoped it would include Wendy, now that he had at least a temporary source of income. He’d met Marc Rysner at the university when Marc was going for his master’s degree, and, yes, he’d helped Marc proofread and correct about a half-dozen of his research papers. Somewhere along the line, Marc showed him an elaborately graded one that Dipper had vetted—an A paper with comments in the margins, on a separate sheet at the end, and at the top of the title page. They boiled down to “Yes!” “Good observations here!” “Sound reasoning,” and a paragraph about how great it was to find a student whose writing style and documentation of research materials was so professional.
“That’s all on you, man,” Marc said.
“It’s not hard to learn,” Dipper had told him.
And it wasn’t just an act of friendship. Before long, other grad students were asking for his help, at the rate of five bucks a page. He gave them good value and had made a nice little side income for his junior/senior year (just one year, because he had rushed it).
Maybe ProfoundPara would be a hit, maybe it would fold in half a year, but for the time being, Dipper felt good. And at least it showed he might use his skills to earn a living.

3
On Thursday night Pacifica wanted to screw. “The Red Tide has ebbed,” she said cheerfully. “And I am as horny as fuck.”
Wendy and Tambry weren’t quite there yet, still kind of spotty as far as that sort of activity went, but they joined in. Pacifica wanted doggy again, and Tambry wielded the weird little whip, smacking her boss’s upper-class ass in between strokes, leaving her buttocks rosy. Meanwhile Wendy milked her—Pacifica had begun to lactate as her nipples grew—and collected nearly a cup of fresh grade-A Pacifica milk.
Pacifica had a thrashing orgasm when Dipper came inside her. “Oh, my God!” she gasped.
“Pull out and let me and Wendy have some!” Tambry urged, and while Pacifica got her breath back, Wendy and Tambry cleaned him up. Pacifica knelt and held a cup between her legs, collecting a few ounces of Dipper’s dribbling dick milk from herself as well, and the three girls shared it, licking their lips, and each other’s lips, too.
Then as they glided down from their high, Pacifica lazily stroked her own breasts and said, “Listen, I’ve got a great idea. Next week why don’t we stay at my place? I’ve got loads of room, plus an indoor sauna and hot tub. We can get up to all sorts of fun things there!”
“Yeah, but your housekeeper would spread gossip about us,” Tambry said.
Pacifica shook her head. “No, I’ll give her a week’s vacation. Her daughter’s about to have a baby, and she’s been hinting she’d like to go to Lubbock for that.”
“Let her go,” Wendy said. “Give her a bonus, even. Heck, we can keep house. And starting tomorrow I’m gonna want some Dipper-dipping myself. Might be nice to do it in a spa!”
“Me, too!” Tambry said. “Having my period always makes me get so turned on! Hey, Dip, we still haven’t tried butt sex. I’m up for it whenever!”
“Tempting offer,” Dipper said.
Pacifica pouted. “What’s wrong with my ass?”
“Nothing!” he said.
Wendy chuckled. “I’m gonna sit that one out, guys. My pussy wants attention, not my butthole!”
“I know Dipper can give us anything we ask for,” Pacifica said, planting a kiss on his dick. Their usual appetite for food and drink kicked in, and they prepared and ate a meal that would have satisfied at least two Dan Corduroys, or six regular people.
Later, as they all lay warm and snug and comfortable in bed, Dipper said, “Stanford says we can probably get our shots on the first Sunday in March.”
“Boo,” Wendy said. “Being fuckin’ insane with lust is hard to manage, but man, I love screwing Dip and rubbing pussies with Pacifica and eating Tambry out!”
“We can keep doing that, you know,” Tambry said.
“I don’t want to give it up, either,” Pacifica said. “I love all three of you! I already asked Dipper to marry me.”
Everything went silent. In the darkness, Dipper said, “And I asked Wendy to marry me.”
To his surprise, Tambry cheerfully piped up, “Even better, in Gravity Falls, we could all marry each other.”
“Huh?” Wendy asked.
“How could we do that?” Pacifica demanded.
Then Tambry had to explain it. She knew because her dad told her that a much older cousin of the family’s had entered a marriage with two men—the cousin was a woman—back in the 1930s or some deal. Nobody much talked about it because the custom had sort of faded out. “But I think it’s still legal,” she said.
Wendy switched on the bedside lamp, and all three girls sat up in bed and stared at each other. “What the hell,” Wendy said with a grin. “Sounds good to me! Hey, if Dip, Tam, and Pacifica will have me, I’ll marry them all!”
“Me, too!” Tambry said. “Wait, though, something else. If we want kids, we’ll have to arrange it so that only one of us is pregnant in any one year!”
“Kids?” Dipper asked.
“Me first,” Wendy said. “I’m oldest.”
Pacifica nodded. “That’s fine with me. Give me about five years to build up the company before I start.”
“I’ll go in the middle!” Tambry said. “Man, think of us having a big family together! Ooh, what if one of us has twins? Twins run in your family, right, Dipper?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I’ll rent a yacht for the wedding!” Pacifica said.
“I think we ought to all keep our maiden names,” Wendy said. “I mean, ‘Wendy Corduroy Rivera Northwest Pines’ is sort of long.”
“Okay with you, Dipper?” Pacifica asked.
“That’s okay, but—”
“Honeymoon in Hawaii!” Pacifica said. “Group-fucking on a moonlit secluded beach!”
“Hot damn! I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii!” Tambry said. “Pacifica, do you surf? I do! That would be so cool! But I know Wendy doesn’t.”
“I’ve had lessons,” Pacifica said. “Why don’t you surf, Wendy?”
“Cause I like fucking better,” Wendy said with a shrug that made her boobs jiggle. “So while you girls are out riding the waves, I’ll be in the hotel riding Dipper.”
Dipper gave up and shut up. But deep inside, he hoped that their feelings wouldn’t change too much after the shots. He decided that he really, really liked where this seemed to be going.

4
Wendy did come home at noon the next day and said, “Took the afternoon off like I planned, man. You know what I’d like?”
“Got a pretty good idea,” Dipper said, watching her strip.
She twirled her bra like it was a towel in a locker room and playfully snapped it toward him. “Get those clothes off, then.”
“I already changed the sheets,” he said as they went to the bedroom.
Wendy grabbed his erect dick and used it as a leash to tug him after her. “Wow! My dad and brothers never did that. Thank you, man!”
“Also, just confirmed it and signed today, I’ve got a work-from-home job deal. I—”
“Tell me about it later,” she said, pulling him into bed with her. “You didn’t let me finish. What I would like today,” she said, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the nose, “is not one of those frantic pounding deals we’ve been doing. I’m horny as hell—” she took his hand and guided it—”just feel my pussy!—but what I really, really want is a long, slow, sweet fuck. Can you keep it up for like twenty minutes without shooting, Dipper?”
“Think so,” he said. “I’ll try my hardest.”
“That’s just the way I like it,” she told him, squeezing his cock. She gave him the first of a series of deep, deep, urgent kisses.
She’d become so used to his big cock that she accepted it easily, cooing with pleasure. This time he was on top, and he loved the feel of her athletic body, springy beneath him, her breasts sharp-tipped with her lewd eagerness. “Want you deep,” she said.
Raising her butt, she rested her long legs on his chest, her calves on his shoulders. “Feels great,” Dipper told her as he held onto her butt with both hands and started to move.
“Mm, same here. There, you’re all the way in. I love how you feel inside me! Pussy’s so full! Now, just pretend we’re waltzing. Don’t rush. Just—yeah, like that. Real slow and easy. Ahh, yeah ahh, yeah—don’t mind that, just a little orgasm, don’t let it make you cum too soon. Okay, I’m loving this. In . . . deeper . . . now out, slow. Slower, please. Yeah, now in again, just like that. Keep that beat. My legs in the way?”
“No, this is great,” Dipper said, squeezing her ass cheeks.
“’Cause sometime before you cum I’m gonna lock my legs around you and squeeze you tight as I can, like I’m trying to pull all of you inside me where it’s all snug and warm.”
“You know what I like,” he told her.
Dipper discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that a long, leisurely fuck had a great charm to it. The pace helped him hold back. He savored the feel of Wendy’s snug hot pussy, how it rippled and clenched whenever she had one of her small orgasms, as she called them, how its depths seemed to suck at his dick.
After about a quarter of an hour, though, she did as she had promised, wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles together. “Faster, now,” she gasped. “I can’t hold back the big one much longer. And I know already I’m gonna squirt! Should’ve—ahh! Ahh! Put a couple of—hah, I’m so close!—towels under me. Go, Dipper!”
He sped up. Now that red pre-orgasmic flush spread across her face. Her face was clenched on pleasure, her mouth open, her breath coming hard. He felt her nipples leaking milk against his chest. Then he screwed her even faster, harder, and she actually screamed, “Oh fuck, yes!” louder than she’d ever done.
That triggered his orgasm, and with a gush he absolutely filled her pussy to overflowing.
“Damn,” he said.
She looked up at him with concern. “It . . . wasn’t good for you?” she asked. “Oh, Dipper, I’ll do whatever—"
He kissed her quiet. “Shh. Shh. It was great for me,” he told her. “Oh, God, I love you, Wen. And I’m glad you came like that. Only—now we have to change the sheets again!”
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Smells Like Teen Spurts