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Twin Pines	By : MichaelATownshed Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 37004 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or Twin Peaks, nor am I making any money off this story. Christ who would even pay for this?

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
AUTHOR’S NOTES: I’d like to thank Saint_Wanker_Kris and xXDasXGoochXx for their comments. Yes, the first couple chapters are heavily build-up focused, but the coming chapters are going to bring the heat big time. And yeah, I wanted to do some kinda weird stuff, my imagination is just like that lol. So thank you for your comments and reviews and I hope you keep reading.
Chapter 2
Waiting Period
The downpour washed over her. For a moment she simply stood there with eyes shut, letting the water pelt her flesh clean.
“Feeling better kiddo?” Wendy asked.
Mabel shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe kinda feeling a little gassy?” Opening her eyes, she looked up at the shower head above her. The warm water was like a thousand little kisses pecking at every part of her nude body. “Is that normal?”
Dipper and Mabel had made it back to the Mystery Shack just in time to avoid the fury of a particularly harsh thunderstorm. Outside the wind howled, the rain was audible as it poured cats and dogs. Also pigs, Mabel reminded herself. Cats and dogs and pigs.
Wendy hadn’t been so lucky. Stan, completely ill-equipped in every way possible to handle the most delicate of delicate situations in regards to his great niece, had called the only teenager he knew for help. He had also called 911, but they had apparently hung up on him. Wendy’s friends, having already picked her up from work, then had to drive her back. The hellish road conditions and zero visibility the storm had produced caused them to accidently drop her off a couple miles in the wrong direction. The ensuing twenty minutes of trekking to the Mystery Shack through ankle-deep mud in the worst rainstorm she had seen in years had left her a damp, miserable mess.
She now sat on a small stool by the bathtub with her hat, plaid shirt, socks, boots and tank top hung next to the old rusted radiator, leaving her upper body bare except for her seashell colored bra. She decided to keep her jeans on as well, because things didn’t need to get anymore awkward. “Gassy?” Wendy pondered. “Gassy, bloaty, crampy, weeping uncontrollably over what some dude said about your top two weeks ago… Brad you massive bastard. Uhm, anyway, it’s all possibly normal, it just depends on the girl. Or maybe it’s just something you ate?”
Mabel rubbed her chin. “That truck-stop tuna sandwich was pretty suspicious. Still, none of what you just mentioned sounds particularly pleasant.”
Wendy patted the nude girl’s hair. Mabel smiled, took a bar of soap, and started lathering herself up.
“I’m not gonna lie to you kid,” Wendy began, “there’s some stuff about Aunt Flow’s visit-”
“Gross,” the preteen interjected.
“- that’s not particularly great. Look, I was kinda nervous and confused too when I had my first period, but, the important thing is you’re still you, it’s just, you’re becoming a more mature you. It’s different, but the same. That made sense, right?”
Mabel didn’t immediately respond. She ran the soap up and down her legs, bending over, reaching down to her ankles. Wendy stared at the girl’s butt, glistening with water, smooth and of a fair complexion. Her little bum wiggled each time she motioned the soap up and down her lower limbs. It had some roundness to it, perhaps hinting at her furthering development. Not that Wendy was entirely sure how all that stuff really worked; just because she went through puberty didn’t mean she knew the mechanics. Explaining the part with the ovaries had been the most awkward thing ever, though thankfully Mabel already knew a good chunk of the details. Who even taught her? Wendy wondered.There’s no way it was Stan. Mabel spread her legs just slightly and slid her hands up between her thin, slender thighs, right below her unmentionables.
Wendy licked her lips, not entirely sure why she was so focused on a little girl’s body. The teenager swiped her hand across her stomach. Her abdomen was slick with condensation; Mabel was running the shower hot, almost scorchingly so, with the steam visibly rising around them. The cabinet mirror and bathroom window were steamed up, the walls were dripping with forming water droplets. Wendy felt little beads of fluid roll down her face and chest, trickling down her bra-boosted cleavage. She let out a huff. “It’s like a sauna in here Mabel, maybe take the heat down a notch?”
The girl lowered the amount of hot water, but just by a little. “Mind doing me?”
Wendy’s eye widened. “What?”
Mabel offered the bar of soap to the teenager. “My back, mind doing my back? There’s this spot between my shoulder blades I can’t ever get to no matter how hard I try. This one time I dislocated my shoulder just trying to reach it. I still didn’t get to it, but I did get to wear a cast for a month! I dunno, I just wanna feel extra clean tonight, you know?”
Wendy eyed the girl’s naked form more closely. Her limbs were slender and sleek, her slim little youthful body lacking a bosom or any real womanly curves, and there wasn’t a single strand of pubic hair on her tiny, tight little vagina. But as she stood there smiling, oblivious and lacking in self-consciousness, dripping wet, with that bar of soap in her outstretched hand, Wendy couldn’t help but fall into a near swoon. Or maybe it was just the steam. “Yeah,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could, “no problem, my sister from another mister.”
“Sister from another mister... I like that,” said Mabel while applying conditioner to her shiny brunette hair. “While it makes my dad sound a hussy, I always did want an older sister to love and braid my hair with.”
“And I always wanted a little sister to love and braid my hair with.” Wendy quivered the second she pressed her hand on Mabel’s warm flesh. With Mabel’s back to her, she dutifully fulfilled the little girl’s request, lathering the small of her back first, then up to her shoulders and back down her spine to her cute, pert bottom. In response Mabel arched her back, startled by that type of contact.
“Well, I did say extra clean,” she said, snickering, “every nook and cranny. Seriously, all unfreshness must be scrubbed away.”
Every nook and cranny? Wendy said to herself, tilting her head just slightly. Gently she spread Mabel’s rear cheeks apart, giving her a better view of Mabel’s tiny rear hole and virgin sex. She slowly moved the bar along the little girl’s labia, the teen lustful and inexplicably aroused as she cleansed the girl’s lower lips. Running the soap higher up her privates, she lightly rubbed her anus, the suds accumulating on her butt and rear hole. Wendy slipped her free hand under her bra and cupped one of her tits. She fiddled with herself, fingering her perked teat while she continued scrubbing Mabel’s genitalia. “Did that up the freshness, sis?” Wendy hissed into her ear.
She didn’t reply. She stood there, her eyes shut, her mind deep in contemplation as she rinsed the conditioner from her hair. Wendy leaned in close, her mouth half-opened as she followed the growing urge to nibble on the little girl’s glimmering neck.
“What about sex?” Mabel asked, turning to face the teen again.
Awakening as if from a trance, Wendy sharply recoiled. Dropping the soap, she darted her hand away from Mabel’s genitalia and retreated from her neck, her confusing desire to taste a twelve year old left unfulfilled. “Wow, I bet you’re feeling extra clean now. Right?” she said nervously, pretending to merely scratch her tit, struggling to get her hand out of her bra. “Yeah, cause that’s all that was, cleaning the hard to get parts. I definitely didn’t cross any lines or anything. Heh.”
“Oh Wendy,” said Mabel, rinsing the last of the conditioner out of her hair, “I think we both know full well you just crossed all the lines. So, what about sex?”
A heavy blush broke out on Wendy’s face, a shade almost as deep red as her hair. “I… what?”
Mabel giggled. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered Miss Tomato Face.” She swept her hands all over herself with a sponge mesh, exfoliating her skin and cleaning off whatever soap suds were left on her. She briefly used the mesh on her butt and lips, her eyes intently on the older girl. Wendy’s pussy grew wet. “I just wanna know, now that I’m a maturing young tween on the cusp of womanhood and all that, do I get to have sex?”
Pangs of guilt preoccupied Wendy. The night had revealed a side of herself she hadn’t even guessed was ever there. Worst of all she couldn’t even read what Mabel was planning to do about it. Oh God I’m going to have to bribe her with candy. “Are you going to tell Stan about-”
“No.” Mabel said simply, exfoliating her arm pits.
Letting out a big sigh of relief, Wendy still found herself tapping her bare foot on the wet tile floor. “Cool. How come?”
“I dunno,” she answered with a precocious smile, “I’m just really curious, and I guess I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about this. I give my love to my peeps Candy and Grenda, but they’re as clueless as I am.”
Wendy gulped. Ok, behave girl. “Hon, you’re twelve. Worry about sex later, you’ll have time for that years from now.”
Mabel frowned, unsatisfied with that answer. “How long did you wait before you, you know…?”
The teen clenched her teeth and shook from her consciousness that strange and unaccountable compulsion to violate a twelve year old. It scared her, how strong that desire was. Composing herself, Wendy answered Mabel’s question. “Before I lost my virginity? That’s kind of like a loaded question for me. This isn’t the norm, but I lost it when I was fourteen.”
A stunned looked was etched on her little face. “What?! And here you’re telling me to wait, that’s just cray-cray! Who was he?”
Wendy couldn’t help but keep gazing at the girl’s wet, pre-pubescent figure. Her nails clawed at the tub’s porcelain lining. “Like I said that’s not really normal, granted some girls are just total skanks. Like Maddy Pulaski, this one girl from home economics in junior high, she got pregnant twice, in the same year, by two different guys. Now that’s cray-cray. But as for me, I just developed really fast. Before I knew it I had the boys all over me. Young boys, older boys, lots of really older boys, grow men, really old men... man those creepy old men.”
Mabel shut off the shower. “Was it the…?” Her hands made little cups on her chest where her tiny nipples were.
“Those definitely help. But getting a guy isn’t the tricky part, the tricky part is finding a decent guy worth hanging out with. Good God girl, I am astounded by how curious you are. Someone hasn’t heard about how curiosity killed the cat.”
She shrugged. “Meow.”
Wendy handed Mabel a towel. “That’s how you’ll get a good one kid, you’ll knock’em dead.”
Carefully Mabel wrapped the towel around her hair. “He still loves you. Dipper I mean. He stares at your boobs.”
Wendy bit her lip. “Yeah, well, that’s not news hon, I notice the little skeeze trying to catch a glimpse all the time. This one time I let my tank top kinda slide down a little while he was looking. I blew his mind away.”
“Haha, tormenting my brother is fun.” Stepping out of the bathtub, Mabel dried herself off with another towel. The little girl couldn’t keep her eyes off Wendy, specifically her chest, and though she pretended not to notice, Wendy was absolutely aware of it. She arched her back somewhat, partly leaning against the wall, letting her breasts jut out just a little. She let one of her bra straps slip down her shoulder. Mabel pretended not to notice. Wendy knew she did.
“How are they like?” Mabel suddenly blurted out. “Your boobs I mean.”
A wicked smile touched the teenager’s lips. Wendy’s hands snaked behind her back, fingering for the bra’s clasps. “Why don’t I just show you, if you wanna be such a curious kitten about it?”
She grinned. “Meow.”
Wendy’s small, pert breasts lightly bounced as the bra straps slipped down her freckled arms and the cups released the supple flesh they supported. The bra dropped to the floor. Narrowing her eyes at the preteen who watched her so intently, she batted her eyelashes. “So, what do you think?”
Mabel gazed at the half naked girl’s chest. Puffy, hot pink areolas surrounded big, perky nipples on petit mounds of smooth white, freckled flesh. Mesmerized, she brushed back the errant strands of hair that dared to obscure her view of Wendy’s supple breasts. “They’re so pretty. Color me jealous, I’m a little...lacking.”
“That won’t last. If you want, you can go ahead and touch,” she said, running a finger just above her cleavage. “You wouldn’t be the first girl to cop a feel. I’ve let Tambry touch them too. You know, I touch hers, she touches mine, we do our nails together, it’s just a girl thing.”
With a single slender finger, she gave Wendy’s tit a quick poke. Her finger indented into one of her soft, malleable breasts, jiggling as she pulled back her finger. “Wow.” She poked her a few times more, adding sounds effects, as Mabel does. “Boop. Beep. Bap. Bop. BOOP!” Pouncing, her face landed right between Wendy’s tits. Though taken aback, Wendy nevertheless welcomed Mabel into her arms. Mabel purred as she rubbed her face between those soft, warm mammaries. “They’re like velvet water balloons. It’s the weirdest thing ever.”
Wendy laughed. “And you’re the most insane twelve year old ever.”
“I object. Am I insane, or am I simply too adorable to understand?” Shifting her legs, Mabel sat herself on Wendy’s thigh. Their gaze remained unbroken as Mabel’s eyes grew more mischievous, and as she began grinding her naked body against Wendy. “Or put in another way, meow, meow, meow. Meow meow meow…. meow.” She licked her tit. “Me-ow.”
“Oh Mabel… you wild pussy cat!” Petting Mabel’s hair with one hand while the little girl lapped at her nipples like a kitten lapping milk, Wendy quickly undid her jeans and slipped her hand down between her legs. A finger deftly traced along the flower embroidery of her panties, she trailed her finger further down till she felt the moist slit of her soaked vagina. She pressed down hard along the length of her lips, the lacy fabric soaking up the fluids seeping out from her lusting cunt. “Yeah,” she forced out in a hushed tone, pantomiming a groan she didn’t dare vocalize. “Fuck yeah.” Mabel’s big round eyes looked up at Wendy, she steadily lapped at the teat she also suckled on with puckered lips.
“You like?” Mabel asked, her voice low and seductive. She didn’t give Wendy a chance to respond before she stuffed her other nipple in her mouth. Wendy’s fingers slipped under her panties, she reached further down till the familiar sensation of her own pubic hair met her fingertips. It took only a split second to find her throbbing, swollen clit. Giving it a pinch between two fingers, she uttered out a stifled moan.
Not content with merely suckling Wendy’s nipples, Mabel reached around and groped the teen’s ass, except until she found a hard, rectangular object in her back pocket. “What’s that?”
“Taser," she groaned out.
“Taser? Since when do you have a Taser?”
“I stole it off Bat Boy’s Nazi Astronaut dad. I figured if we ever have to take on the astronaut 4^th Reich again, I should at least have a little more protection. Now, weren’t you doing something with your tongue, little kitten girl?”
“Meow,” Mabel affirmed. “Meeee….” the mew trailed off when a hard, sudden jerk of her body stiffened her muscles, causing her to motion closer toward Wendy’s mouth. Wendy, curling her fingers inside her own cunt, whimpered, leaning in closer for an expected kiss. Instead Mabel covered the teen’s mouth and shoved her head against the wall, hard enough to hurt. The preteen’s eyes were filled with a wrathful intensity Wendy had never seen before from anyone, especially not from a child. When Mabel leaned in closer, her mouth barely an inch from the older girl’s ear, a terrible dread struck Wendy to the very core. “Fire walk with me,” she uttered.
“Hey girls,” Stan yelled, knocking on the door. “You two worked all this stuff out yet? Remember, time is money. Specifically my money, that you’re spending on my hot water.”
In an instant Mabel’s insane glare disappeared. “…oww?” Mabel mewed, slightly confused. Both girls immediately backed off from one another. Donning her nightgown, the one with the picture of a tape recorder on the front, Mabel went over to the sink. “I’m done Grunkle Stan, I just gotta brush my teeth!”
A dazed Wendy slowly retracted her fingers out from under her panties. She crossed her hands over her tits. Those eyes. She shuddered at the thought of that mad leer. Like, crazy psycho-killer eyes. “What the fuck?” she mouthed out inaudibly. From across the bathroom Mabel carefully though leisurely brushed her teeth. Her eyes, reflected by the cabinet mirror, definitely didn’t look like they belonged to some psycho-killer. A flood of shame hit her, her face turned bright red yet again. Oh my God, I just tried to fuck Mabel Pines.
Mabel rinsed out her mouth. “I can smell the minty freshness. I think I’ll skip the flossing, just for tonight. Promise not to tell Grunkle Stan? He’s supposedly all about the snitches getting stitches life, but he’s 100% a snitch.”
“Uh, yeah, no prob Mabel. Look, about what just happened, I think we should probably talk abou-”
“Hush,” she interrupted. She grabbed Wendy’s hand with both of hers and pressed her fingers to her lips. Mabel slid them into her mouth, and with a long, prolonged lap of her tongue she licked clean the fingers Wendy had been using to fuck herself.
Wendy watched with her mouth agape. “I don’t even-”
“I said hush darn it. We’ll do more than talking. Promise.” Darting toward the door, Mabel took her new shawl off the hook. “Grunkle Stan don’t come in Wendy’s about to take a bath!”
Wendy wiped a thin sliver of drool off her lip. “Yeah boss, don’t come in.”
Fire walk with me? Wendy wondered. What is that? Truth be told, after all that weirdness, a bath was sounding like a pretty good idea. “Oh, and, nice shawl. I guess.”
* * *
Mabel was already in bed when Dipper entered the attic. By her bed, Waddles the pig happily oinked away in his slumber, maybe dreaming of the perfect mud puddle to wallow blissfully in. Mabel didn’t acknowledge the sound of Dipper’s footsteps, or to him preparing for bed. For the second time that night they shared a long, awkward silence that neither knew how to deal with. Outside the storm raged.
It was Dipper that broke the silence. “Hey Mabel, you up for lobbing rocks at the chimerileon-squirrel nest?”
The girl sighed as she stared up at the peaked ceiling. “Not tonight.”
With the catapult in position, and his sister uncharacteristically distressed, he wasn’t ready to give up. “Come on Mabel, it’ll be fun. Double points awarded if you get struck by lightning. Triple if the lightning somehow strikes Grunkle Stan. Or are you afraid of getting a little wet?”
Mabel rose up from bed. She pointed at him in defiance. “Pfff. a little rain won’t stop me from fighting the forces of mutant squirrel evil.”
He loaded a couple of rocks the size of Stan’s head into the catapult. “Then bring it sis.”
She hesitated, rubbing her arm, looking away from her brother and the oversized catapulting device they had constructed out of random junk and a seriously oversized chess piece. She planted the back of her head against the wooden wall adjacent to her bed. Her mind seemed preoccupied, distant. “Not tonight Dipper. I’m even going to ask you nicely, even though I’m usually inclined to show no mercy toward my opponents. So please, let’s just get some sleep, I’ll kick your butt tomorrow. Thank you for trying though.”
Dipper, downtrodden, tossed the big old rock away. He didn’t notice it roll down the stairs. He didn’t hear it to strike Stan. Neither twin heard him fall or his screams of terrible agony either. “Is it something you wanna talk about?” The twin brother asked his sister. Somewhere downstairs their Grunkle Stan’s yells for help were being ignored.
Mabel opened her mouth but didn’t speak. A finger planted firmly on her lips, she tried her best to find the right words, until finally she figured it out. “It’s like you when you’re all sweaty and weird, especially when you’re within a mile of Wendy. That’s kinda what I feel like right now, only instead of flop sweat and trying to look down Wendy’s tank top, I’m bleeding from my vagina. Vaaginnnaaaa.”
It was Dipper’s turn to open his mouth only to fail to say anything.
Mabel smiled. “It’s ok Dipper, I always appreciate your support but sometimes a girl just needs to handle the situation on her own.”
He nodded in agreement.
Mabel couldn’t help but blush. “Well, there was this other thing…”
Dipper shuddered. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about whatever else is going on with your body.”
“Don’t worry I’m talking about this thing that happened in the bathroom, no blood involved. I don’t really know what to feel about it. I mean, flattered maybe? I need a little more time to process this before I tell you every lurid detail of what Wendy and I did in the shower.”
Noticing she had her brother’s full attention once ‘Wendy’ and ‘shower’ got mentioned in the same sentence, she continued. “Here’s a sneak peek.” Stretching both arms out in front of her like Frankenstein’s monster and with her fingers curled like claws, she pantomimed squeezing something at chest height. “Honk honk!” she said, one honk for each squeeze.
“You’re kidding,” he said, incredulous. “There’s no way.”
With a wink, she dropped back down onto her pillow. “Good night Little Dipper.”
Clearing the thought of Wendy’s breasts from his mind, he rolled his eyes at that ‘Little Dipper’ comment. “Ok, first of all, seriously, no way. Secondly, you’re not the only one that’s doing some growing up around here.”
She yawned, snuggling a stuffed giraffe. “Prove it.”
Prove it. Prove what? he asked himself. Without a real rebuttal he decided to let it go, at least until he could think of a good comeback. He laid his head on his pillow and watched his sister. “Good night Mabel,” he said, almost begrudgingly. He shut his eyes, and as he drifted to sleep, he listened to a combination of soft oinks originating from a pig dreaming of mud puddles and to the heavy downpour of the outside world.
* * *
Dipper sat on the black sofa chair, his arms comfortably on the arm rests. Red curtains were draped across all four sides of a rather spacious room. Repeating black and white zig-zag patterns decorated the floor. Except for two long silver lamps, a white marble statue of a half-naked girl with the arms missing, and the chair he sat in, the room was otherwise empty. At least it was for a while, until the horrible misshapened monster thing revealed itself from behind the chair.
The crumpled up paper clone of Dipper Pines twitched randomly as it rounded the sofa, slowly limping its deformed body over to meet him face to face, all the while garbling something that couldn’t even be described as words. “I thought you were dead,” Dipper said passively. There was a disconnection to what he saw and what he felt. Everything just felt heavier to him, or slower, or maybe like some other word that eluded his mind at that moment.
“,luos on evah I” it screeched out. In its hand it held a plain red mug. “?eeffoc fo puc a ekil uoy dluoW” Paper Jam Dipper opened its horrid mouth wide open and vomited coffee into the mug. Dipper caught a whiff of its aroma, the roasted freshness of a steaming hot cup of black coffee. The steam poured out of Paper Jam Dipper’s mouth as well as from the mug. He, or it, whatever, offered it to the non-paper Dipper.
Dipper remained still, neither repulsed nor compelled to indulge in his craving for the caffeinated drink. A black couch slowly phased into existence by his right side. Mabel sat beside Bill Cipher, a boutique of red and white roses were nested in her arms. Bill Cipher tipped his little hat at her, and then to him.
“,gninrom eht ni eeffoc fo puc doog nmad a ekil I semitemoS” the freaky Dipper clone said. “.eip yrrehc fo ecils doog nmad a htiw siht evah dluoc I hsiw I” It drank the coffee in one gulp. Immediately its stomach began to sizzle away, the hot steam and its seductive aroma of home-brewed java rising out from the widening gut hole. It pathetically cried out its shrill screeches as he split in half and both sides collapsed on themselves to slowly disintegrate into so much pulp. All that remained was a twitching, blistered left arm.
Dipper stared at the twitching hand. “Wow, that’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.” A laugh track played all around him. Not that the canned laughter alarmed him, nothing here did, wherever here was.
Bill Cipher pointed an old hand-held tape recorder at Mabel. With a click it began playing. “Diane, I have good news,” said the recording of a male voice Dipper didn’t recognize, “that show you like is going to come back in style.” Some unknown, unseen audience cheered and clapped. Bill stopped the recording, turned toward Mabel and nodded. The cute little girl in her little green sweater was now a gorgeous woman, perhaps in her late thirties, donning a brilliant red dress. She caressed the flowers against her womanly bosom. Bill pointed the recorder at Dipper. “This is the waiting room,” the recording continued. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Some of your friends are here.”
Who’s Diane? Dipper wondered. He turned toward adult Mabel. Adult Mabel was gone, in her stead was a strange blonde woman in a black dress seated with her legs crossed, her face obscured by a mug from which she drank from. Bill glanced at her once, and then quickly looked away, reluctantly tipping his hat at her. Bill pointed to Dipper’s left side. Twelve year old Mabel, wearing a nightgown, lay on a white sofa that hadn’t been there before.
The little girl wept. He wasn’t sure when the owls had shown up, a half dozen or so, but there they were, flying in circles throughout the room in pursuit of a frantically hopping white rabbit. They swooped down, and with claws outstretched, each one took their turn attempting to strike down their fluffy prey. It dodged and evaded every taloned swipe, until it slipped and ran headlong into one of the black sofas. A single owl managed to nick the bunny’s leg before it could hop away. A trickle of blood streaked the floor where ever it ran.
Dipper sat beside his sister. “Uh, Mabel…?”
“No,” she said. She hugged him and held him tight. Her tears soaked into his tuxedo. Also he was wearing a tuxedo, when this happened he had no clue, but he decided to just go along with it since it wasn’t even the weirdest thing to happen in the last five minutes. The tie though was uncomfortable and chaffed his neck; that he removed.
After a short while she looked up at him with fresh tears in her eyes. She wiped them away. “I’m Lebam.” Lebam plopped her head down on Dipper’s lap. She curled her legs into herself and silently continued her weeping. They watched the rabbit bump by a lamp. The lamp came crashing down, its bulb shattering upon contact with the floor. “I know Mabel, she has a scab on her right thigh. You have one too, even if you don’t think you do.” Dipper looked down at Lebam legs. She had a band aid on her left thigh.
The long red drapes swayed slightly as the room slowly faded into darkness, save for the dim glow of Bill Cipher’s golden body and a single spotlight aimed at the fleeing rabbit. A swipe from another owl’s claws connected with the bunny’s hide, its talons slicing through fur and tissue. For a moment the rabbit was entirely off the ground, until the talons of yet another owl quickly pinned it back down. That owl immediately plunged its razor sharp beak at the rabbit’s throat. Lebam stuffed her face into Dipper’s abdomen and wrapped her arms around him, weeping freely. Slowly the spotlight faded into darkness, till not even the silhouette of the owls consuming their prey could be discerned. Dipper stroked the sobbing girl’s hair.
In the corner of the room by the statue, a swan flapped its wings. Via Bill’s glow, Dipper noticed that the statue strongly resembled Pacifica Northwest, right down to the long eyelashes and diamond earrings, and that warm smile that contradicted the arrogance she often displayed. When light returned to the room, the rabbit and the owls were gone.
Lebam suddenly stopped crying. “She’s going to kill you now.”
The blonde haired woman glared at him, her pupil-less white eyes filled with pure rage and fury. As far as Dipper could tell she was a teenager, probably a high school senior or a college-aged freshman, but with piercing shriek that no normal human could possibly match.
“Mabel run!” he yelled as the mad teen grabbed him by his neck. Those shaking, wrathful hands squeezed his throat till he gagged.
“I’m not Mabel,” Lebam said in a hushed whisper without her lips moving. She watched as he kicked at the woman’s torso to no effect.
His little fingers couldn’t pry the psycho bitch off his throat. Deprived of air and growing weary, Dipper lost control of his limbs. The room became a giant red blur as his vision began to fade. The Mabel doppelganger disappeared from his periphery, vanishing into the redness. He continued to stare into the wrathful eyes of his attacker until his vision failed along with the rest of his senses, and he descended into a world of black.
The air rushed back into his lungs as the woman released her grip, he landed on the floor with a thud. Groaning and clutching at his throat, Dipper regained consciousness just in time to see Lebam throw a coffee mug at the teenager’s head. Steaming hot coffee poured down her face.
Lebam waved at him. “I got your back broseph, kinda.” The last thing she had left in her arsenal was the still twitching arm of Paper Jam Dipper. She threw that at the crazed attacker too. Not that it did much, it merely bounced off the girl and landed on a coffee spill. Next she rushed the woman, only for her to phase right through her. “Sorry Dip that’s all I got, but I’ll tell Mabel you died bravely! Or at least that you didn’t pee your pants. Please don’t pee your pants.”
Bill Cipher levitated up into the air. From his body a flash of brilliant light radiated outwards in every direction, temporarily blinding Dipper and everyone else in the room. The young boy covered his eyes and looked away, on guard for whatever may try to hurt him next. However, when the light dissipated and Dipper could see once more, the crazed lady was no longer to be found. Where she had been there was now another nude, white statue. Dipper examined the face closely. Its facial features were contorted in that same rage-filled expression, only, the face didn’t belong to the person who had just tried to kill him. It was Wendy’s face, carved in marble, with fiery red hair running down her tortured body.
",anihcam xe sued ruoy tuoba klaT" said Bill.
“Wendy?” Dipper asked, his voice raspy and croaking. “What did you do to her?”
Bill pointed a handheld mirror at himself. “Is this thing on? Perfect. As for you, talk about ungrateful. Now save your breath, that’s not your little girlfriend. Or is Pacifica your girlfriend now? I can’t tell these days, point is, redhead’s royally screwed and this time you can’t lay the blame on me. You fucked up, big time.”
“What?” he said, coughing. He sat on his knees, still gasping.
“Predestination kid. You and your dime-store Scooby gang’s been getting involved in all these supernatural adventures without a care in the world, well guess what? Did you think you could mess with the primal forces of the universe without consequence? Now the shit has hit the fan and you’re right in the middle of it.”
“Is this a dream?” Dipper asked, staring down at the pool of coffee surrounding him. “In retrospect, I should’ve taken that cup a coffee.” The laugh track started up again.
Bill facepalmed. “This is why I hate talking to mortals in this place, they’re always so zoned out like they chugged an entire bottle of Prozac after a lobotomy. You see that?” Cipher grabbed Dipper by his head and turned him at the statue’s direction. It was melting like candlewax under a wicker flame. One of the arms broke off and plopped onto the floor. Its mouth was stretching wide as if it were wailing. “She’s your problem, not mine, and you don’t have a lot of time left to deal with it. The crazy bitch is playing a mean hand and you’ve got jack-squat.”
Bill pulled a playing card out of his hand. It was an ace, only with triangles on the corners. The Cipher glared at Dipper, pointing the card directly in his face. “I’m not doing this for your sake. Someday you’re going to repay me, I’m going to make sure of that.” He let the card drop into the boy’s waiting hands.
The blonde lady was seated upright on the sofa couch, her legs crossed as she dug a fork into a slice of cherry pie. A mug of steaming hot coffee was on a black wooden pedestal beside the couch. Bill, eyeing the blonde lady, floated off to the farthest corner of the room. “Well, this is going to hurt like Hell.”
Soft fingers wrapped around Dipper’s. It was Lebam, helping him back on his feet. “The owls are not what they seem,” she said, her voice ominous and foreboding, her intonation nothing at all like how his real sister spoke.
My real sister? Dipper wondered. “The owls are not what they seem.”
“Exactly,” she said, turning transparent. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other again. You know the part that’s cray-cray?” She pointed at Cipher, who immediately burst into flame. “He’s going to destroy you and your entire family once the time is right. Cray-cray right?”
Dipper didn’t find it particularly cray-cray, Bill Cipher was pretty much his arch enemy after all. Lebam waved goodbye; she disappeared before his very eyes. “But some of my friends are here,” he reminded himself. Wendy Corduroy, wearing a black wide brimmed hat and a black dress with a revealing, low cut v-neck, stood at his left side, silently smiling seductively. So did Pacifica Northwest, standing behind him, donning a sleeveless red gown with matching satin gloves. And then there was Mabel Pines, all in white, wearing a skirt and an uneven sweater that left one of her shoulders bare. Together, including Dipper, they snapped their fingers in unison to the rhythm of an unheard beat. The girls circled Dipper, dancing, twirling, and snapping away with all eyes on him, meanwhile Bill screamed in the corner.
Where’s that crazy woman? Where did she go? “The owls are not what they seem,” Dipper repeated, still snapping his fingers.
“,em dna uoy tsuj, ecnad s’tel reppiD no emoC” said Mabel, winking.
Bill Cipher dragged his burning triangle self to the nearest sofa, flopping down on it with a grunt. “Enough with the fucking owls I think we all get the idea by now. So how about I go ahead and ditch this little get-together, because guess what? I’m literally on fucking fire, and it sucks!” So up Bill levitated, throwing aside his mirror, his body an inferno of fire and smoke, bright red blood seeping out from his one eye up until it burst, at which point his eye socket gushed a fountain of blood. His golden skin melted away, exposing charring muscle and bone. “.gnihctaw eb lliw I .uoy ot gniyl si elcnu tearg ruoY”
“Bill,” Dipper exclaimed, “WAIT!”
* * *
Dipper awoke, greeted by the darkness of Stan Pine’s attic. The pitter-patter of rain had ended and the lightning had ceased, though through the attic’s triangular window he could still see the lingering cloud covering that darkened the night sky. He checked the time. It isn’t even that late yet. “The triangle!” Half drowsy, half anxious about some fading memory, Dipper tried to recall what strange thing nagged at him. What about a triangle? The triangle… what? Smacking his forehead, he noticed that he had at some point kicked off his blanket. Had it been a nightmare? Regardless of how long he stared at the window, his mind failed to unlock any answers. Uugh forget it, it’s probably just some stupid dream about pizzas or the Pythagorean theorem, or something. Though he did recall Wendy being in the dream, along with Pacifica, and… maybe Mabel? He briefly considered that it might have been one of those dreams, the type he usually didn’t talk about, especially to Mabel, and doubly so if… things happened in the dream between the two of them. Reaching out for his blanket, his hand came in contact with something warm and soft. He shot up in bed as Mabel brushed his hand away.
“Come on Dipper watch it,” she whined, pulling some more of the covers towards herself. “You don’t see me going around poking you in the face.”
“Yeah you do, you do it all the time.” Mabel was resting beside Dipper, facing away from him, curled up comfortably in both hers and his blankets. Dipper yawned. “You poked me in the eye like, yesterday morning.”
Mabel sniggered. “Yeah I did, but only because you made this really cute face. Still, beauty sleep time now, poking time later, me am cave girl.”
Her brother nodded. “I agree, cave girl you am. Still, I feel like we’re glossing over the part where you’re in my bed…?”
Curling herself up into a ball, she let out a sigh. “Don’t laugh. I had a bad dream.”
Dipper laid his head back down on the pillow. The ceiling certainly didn’t have any answers for him. “I think I did too. What was yours about?”
For a long time she remain quiet, whether it was due to a failure in her recollection or her reluctance to recall it, he wasn’t sure. “I don’t remember. You?”
“I don’t know.” After a long while of silence, Dipper simply assumed his sister had nodded off. “Good night Mabel,” he whispered. Closing his eyes, he tried to let himself drift back to sleep.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she piped in, her voice small and fragile.
Twelve years of sharing beds during storms, nightmares, and even just cause told Dipper where this was headed. “All right, come here,” he said as he turned her over towards him. The girl complied; she pressed her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. He gently stroked Mabel’s hair, the aroma of lavender and strawberries filling his nostrils. She pawed at his shirt, emitting a soft purr as she straightened out her nightgown and settled herself in.
“Better?” he asked.
Mabel nestled up against her brother. “Mmhmm.”
“Just, try not to drool all over me.”
Her smile glittered in the dark. “I make no such promises.”
Dipper let out a big, loud yawn. His eyelids drifted shut again. “Night.”
After a while he opened his eyes and continued staring up at the ceiling, admitting defeat in his quest for sleep. Damn it. Maybe if I read something. His The Sibling Brothers detective novels were on a nightstand by Mabel, and his journal under the bed. Despite Mabel’s intrusion he didn’t particularly want to intrude on her sleep. So he was stuck, trying to remember something that probably wasn’t important, with the smell of lavender and strawberries filling his nose. Though for some odd reason that aroma seemed unusually comforting to him. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like she hadn’t used that brand of conditioner before.
“Dipper?” Mabel asked. “Are you awake?”
Apparently she hadn’t been able to get any sleep either. “What’s up Mabel?”
Mabel raised her head from Dipper’s chest. Her hesitation was palpable. “Do you think we’ll ever lose… this?”
“This?” he asked. “Define ‘this.’”
Mabel shrugged. “This. Just, this.”
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“Nevermind,” she said, with a strained giggle, “I’m just talking all crazy, you know crazy ol’me, with my crazy hormones, wooooo. Let’s forget I said anything…”
He placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Remember that time when we were like five and we thought donuts were made from play dough so we ate like a hundred tubes of the stuff?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I poured sugar all over mine. Talk about a rush.”
“And we ate so much that we had to get our stomachs pumped?”
“And then we spent weeks in bed recovering from horrible bowel irritation, and our pee turned funny colors, and then we caught diarrhea and the chicken pox and we were so itchy and nauseous and miserable. Those were, those were horrible memories I’ve tried very hard to bury with like, a giant mental shovel. I’m not sure I’m enjoying this trip down memory lane Dip.”
Dipper chuckled. “Well yeah all that sucked. But, we were together through the whole thing. Even that part where you caught the flu and mom and dad tried to keep us apart.”
Even in the darkness Mabel’s eye sparkled like diamonds. “And then you snuck in anyway and caught the flu. You caught the flu for me.”
“Yeah, well you know.” Dipper was immediately pounced upon as Mabel gave him a big, warm hug, one that he returned in kind. Mabel closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. The scent of her hair was intoxicating, he couldn’t help but discretely sniff her full-bodied, silky locks as he buried his face in her hair. Mabel didn’t seem to notice, she kept holding him, her hands clutching at his shirt. She leaned in a little closer, her chest pressing against his. Just when things were getting a little too close for sibling comfort, she backed off, but only by a bit.
“Woah Dip!” she said, looking down at his crotch. Her outer thigh was rubbing against his inner thigh, seriously close to the unexpected tent pitched under his shorts. “So what caused that, us reminiscing about peeing funny colors, or the part where you sniffed my hair like you were a vacuum?”
In addition to his face becoming hot and sweaty, he was sure he was turning plenty of different shades of crimson. He tried to cover his awkward accident only for Mabel to intervene. She held both his hands in hers, and kept them away from his rather big display. “It’s only doing what it’s supposed to,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against his. She purred into his ear.
She heard him whimper, and though he was obviously embarrassed, she felt him weaken under her allure. Her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t be ashamed of that, you can be honest with me. No, you better be honest with me.” With a gentle push at his chest he dropped back down onto the bed. She slipped her hand underneath his shirt and stroked his chest, gazing down at him.
At the same time, Dipper gazed up at her. Their eyes meeting, his mind became so muddled and confused, his body so weak and lustful, every part of him begged for something he didn’t even want to consider as a possibility. Slowly she removed her hand from under his shirt and instead stroked his cheek. The girl moved her other hand up his leg and between his thighs.
A single finger brushed against the hilt of his juvenile sex, even through his shorts he could feel the pressure of her touch. It made him harden, something she was keenly aware of, as evidenced by her widening smile. He gasped, surprised, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move her hand away. He tilted his head toward Mabel’s palm as it ran down his jawline, he didn’t notice her take hold of his short’s waistband until she had already swiftly pulled them down, exposing himself to her. “Mabel no-”
She silenced him with a single finger pressed onto his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
Despite her finger he decided to voice his protest anyway. “Yeah, when we were six or seven, and we were playing Doctor, and my thing was NOT like that.”
“Exactly, so just pretend we’re playing Doctor again, and as your health care provider I say your medical… condition,” she giggled, “warrants a thorough examination. So hold your horses will you, you’re in good hands. Besides, if you’re not too freaked over penises and vaginas, I’ll let you be my doctor too, it’s been awhile since my last check up.”
So, with some reluctance, he finished removing his shorts and laid down in bed, Mabel switched on the flashlight function on her cellphone. In the harsh light, which she angled just right with the use of a pillow, she got a good long look at his privates. Much to her astonishment his testicles and the base of his sex were lightly covered by very thin, fuzzy pubic hair. She hadn’t been sure he would have any, she knew she definitely didn’t. She marveled at his twitching penis; of all the pornos saved on Dipper’s bookmark tab none had it where the penis was just there, hard and twitching. She tried to compare his willy to the last time she had seen it. The only thing that came to mind was some dim memory of them in the shower, maybe when they were eight or nine, with their mom cleaning them up. Dipper was definitely not at attention back then.
“It’s like a mushroom,” she cooed.
“Is that your professional diagnosis, Doctor Pines?” asked Dipper, playing along, sort of enjoying it.
“Doctor Princess Pines,” she corrected, “and don’t you forget it.”
“Oh of course, sorry Doctor Princess Pines.”
“Prince Pines, I’m gonna give it to you straight: have you big dick-itis. I’m going to have to run some tests to determine just how serious it is. Boop,” she said, with a single poke at the tip of his penis. He let out a cute little whimper that was like music to her ears. She kept poking at his head, mesmerized by how it seemed to pulse and grow with each poke. Mabel rested her head on his thigh and watched his penis sway from side to side like an inflatable tube each time she gave it a good nudge.
Dipper placed one hand on the top of her head and began stroking her hair, his other hand latched on to hers as it roamed across his cheek. His hips wiggling with each poke, she trailed a single finger down the length of a particularly large, throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. To her the whole thing felt like a long rock surrounded by a squishy layer of velvety soft skin. A single clear drop of fluid formed at the tip of his urethra, slowly accumulating till it began leaking down his shaft. She gulped, unable to resist the urge to sniff. Her loins grew wet at the smell.
“Ok, I think this is getting a little out of hand,” said Dipper, backing away from Mabel till his back hit the wall. “I really wasn’t up for-”
“HA!” she interrupted.
“No, I mean, you said you wanted a look, you got your look, so now we’re done with this little game. And for the record no one ever said anything about poking or… whatever it is you’re doing with your nose all over my junk.”
Mabel, on all fours, slowly advanced on Dipper. Despite his proclamation he didn’t stop her from spreading open his legs, nor did he stop her from kissing his thighs. “All right my Big Dipper,” she said, batting her eyelashes, “no more games….”
Dipper couldn’t resist her as she gripped the hilt of his length. He looked straight into Mabel’s eyes as she swept her hair behind her ear. With a wink she lowered herself down on his cock, her lips engulfing his member’s head, her tongue lapped the pre-cum right off the tip.
“Whoa!” he yelled. Shocked by the sight of his own sister blowing him, Dipper forced her off with a yank of her hair. She yelped, retaliating by swatting his arm away and slapping him across the cheek. Still, he managed to restrain her, holding down her arms. The cellphone’s light illuminated their faces, their expressions pained and raw with desire.
“Dipper,” panted Mabel. She lunged at him, their lips locking in joyous pleasure. A strained, desperate moan escaped her, her tongue frantic as it slipped into Dipper’s mouth and entwined around his tongue.
Despite his moaning, Dipper parted their kiss. “No,” she pleaded, struggling, determined to have him back in her mouth. Pinning her against the bed, he positioned himself on top her, holding her down while she flailed under him.
“No don’t rape me!” she screamed, her fingernails scraping layers of skin off of Dipper’s forearms.
It was then that he realized what he was doing. For all his high minded intentions he still somehow had already pulled her nightgown up to her chest, exposing her Duck-tective undies and her tiny, budding nips. The length of his burgeoning manhood rubbed against her thighs, he found himself thrusting at her loins, his cock smearing pre-cum all over her underwear. He stopped, panting as he regained his composure. “Oh my God, Mabel, I’m sorry, I don’t kno-”
Her fingernails dug deeper into Dipper’s arms. He cried out in pain.
“Please no, don’t rape me!” she cried out sheepishly. She folded her legs around his waist, pressing his pelvis and his dick tighter against her damp undergarments and even damper pussy. “Don’t ravage me, you, the monster that has awakened from its slumber. Please don’t trample me, I’m just an innocent flower, blossoming to life! What we yearn for can only lead to our end!”
Dipper couldn’t believe it. “Are you quoting those stupid sparkly vampire novels?”
“They’re not stupid,” she hissed, “they’re a realistic portrayal of a romance between a centuries-old vampire that still hits on teenagers and a teenaged girl that likes glitter, every girl in the world knows that!” Running her hand through his hair, she directed him closer to her lips, they were so close that the tip of their noses touched. “Now stop mocking me, ravage me instead, make me all yours…”
Delicately yet firmly, he brushed her hand aside, got out of bed, and put his shorts back on. Mabel was motionless, betrayal and confusion etched on her face.
“We’re not doing this…” he said, “It’s insane.”
Pulling her nightgown back down and crossing her legs, Mabel glared daggers at her brother. “Insane, you’re calling me insane? You’re the one popping boners over how my hair smells, I think that counts as insane too bro. Or were you thinking of someone else while you were dry humping Duck-tective here like a horny dog?”
“Mabel-”
“Are you really that much into older girls with freckles and red hair? Or do I need to dye my hair platinum blonde cause guess what Dipper that’s clearly not Pacifica’s natural hair color she’s not fooling anyone!”
Dipper sighed, exasperated and a little chilly. “We’re siblings, we can’t ignore that. And, we’re kinda virgins…”
Mabel shook her head. “Your cock was in my throat.” She pointed a finger at her mouth and opened wide. “Right here. I even swallowed your pre-cum, by the way it tastes like salt. Did you even know that? Your pre-cum tastes like salt! Name one girl that’s ever done that for you.”
Dipper couldn’t even begin to form a reply.
She brushed her hair, trying to tame the mess her brunette locks had become. “Exactly. We share everything Dipper, so why can’t we share our… first time? I know you want it, we can practically read each other’s minds, it’s like, some weird twin superpower. So why don’t you just… you know…?”
Logically he knew he shouldn’t want her, shouldn’t even be attracted to the idea of wanting her. He watched her every movement, her every breath, her figure bathed in the cellphone’s radiance, until she shut off its light. Even in the dark he could still make her out, see the sadness in her eyes, and how she tried to discretely wipe the tears away. It broke his heart having to say no to her. He did it anyway, because logically it was the right thing to do.
“Fine,” she said with a huff, collecting her pillow and blanket, “just fine, you win, we’re brother and sister, blah blah blah. Maybe I’m just having a weird night, just chalk it up to Aunt Flow, her and her terrible hormones and stupid pun name.” She stood up, about ready to march herself back to her own bed. Something dropped to the floor, some little trinket neither twin noticed.
Dipper seized Mabel by the wrist. “I’m not crying,” she said, sniffling. “I- ummphff!” The kiss was so quick and rough that it hurt the both of them. Mabel dropped everything, momentarily stunned by Dipper’s aggression. Confused and frustrated, she beat her fists at his chest and shoulders. He didn’t yield. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist and the back of her head, his tongue playing with hers as he poked her with something far bigger than a finger. She briefly considered biting his tongue in half, but settled on sucking on it instead. Her balled up fists relented, uselessly dropping to her sides.
When their lips parted, Mabel whined, her eyes shut and her body limp in his arms. Gently Dipper laid her down on his bed, and through whatever haze her mind barely operated in, she spread her legs for him. Somewhere in his head that little voice of logic and reason told him to stop before things went too far. And maybe he should stop, after all what kind of brother makes love to his own sister? Pulling down her panties, with his lips pecking her neck, the smell of lavender and strawberries drowning out all rational thinking, he decided that little voice could go fuck off.
Outside on the window sill an owl watched in silence.
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Twin Pines