Depravity Falls

BY : GeorgeGlass
Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls
Dragon prints: 5799
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. I made no money from writing this story.

Depravity Falls

by George Glass

Summary: When thirteen-year-old Mabel and Dipper Pines return to Gravity Falls for another summer at the Mystery Shack, Mabel is looking forward to hanging with her friends and, at last, finding an epic summer romance. But it’s going to be more epic than she ever could have guessed.

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Chapter 1: And We’re Back!

“I can’t believe it, Dipper!” Mabel Pines exclaimed as she looked out the window of the Speedy Beaver bus at the vast pine forest that flanked the road. “We’re almost at Gravity Falls!”

“Hmm? We are?” Dipper replied groggily. He’d slept through the last hour of the trip, whereas Mabel had been too excited, and now she couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer.

“Yup,” Mabel replied. “We’ll be there any minute now. I can’t believe we pulled this off!”

“Maybe you should pull off that sweater,” Dipper replied as he looked at her, blinking. “It barely fits you anymore.”

“Exactly,” Mabel replied, gesturing at the front of her classic shooting-star sweater. “It’s a classic, but at the same time, it’ll show everybody the new and improved Mabel.”

She turned sideways to Dipper and arched her back a bit to draw attention to the small breasts she’d grown during the past year. Dipper groaned.

“And,” Mabel added, “maybe my hot new bod will help me get a real summer romance going.”

Straightening up, Dipper said, “Okay, just a quick review here: Last summer you had the guy made of gnomes, the all-clone boy band, the snooty puppeteer, the mer-boy who left you to marry a manatee, and Gideon. And those are just the highlights. Are you sure you want to keep fishing in those waters?”

“Dipper, you can’t let a few little potholes make you exit the freeway to true love,” Mabel replied, quoting the wisdom of one of her teen magazines. “This time, things are gonna be different. I can feel it!”

The bus pulled over at what passed for Gravity Falls’ bus station—really, just a bus stop with a single bench—and the twins got out. Awaiting them was a familiar pickup truck with an even more familiar driver standing by its open cab door. 

“Dipper! Mabel Dog! How’s it goin’, dudes?” Soos called as he hustled up to them.

“Soos!” Mabel cried, seizing him in a hug. “Great to see you, you big sack of sweetness!”

She released Soos so the man could exchange a fist-bump with Dipper. Mabel had always thought it was a little sad that guys didn’t hug more—especially Dipper, whom Mabel felt needed a lot more hugs than he let on.

The twins crammed themselves in next to Soos on the old pickup’s single bench seat, and they headed for the Mystery Shack.

“So Mabel, where’s that pig of yours?” Soos asked. “Wobbles, I think?”

“Waddles,” Mabel sighed. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me keep a pig at the house, so now he lives at a petting zoo.” She brightened slightly as she added, “But I get two free tickets a month as part of our shared custody agreement.”

“Cool,” Soos said. “How about you, Dipper? You gonna be chasing any mysteries this summer?”

“Oh, you’d better believe it,” Dipper replied. “That crashed UFO in the valley probably still has a ton of alien technology in it. Great Uncle Ford said he left some of his gear at the Shack, and I brought some with me, too, so it’s going to be a summer of awesome discoveries!”

“Sounds great, dude!” Soos said. “If you need any help with that, just let me know. Me being a professional man of mystery now and all.”

“Will do,” Dipper replied. “But if you’re running the Shack, who does all the stuff you used to do?”

“Melody does some of it,” Soos explained, “but fixing stuff isn’t really her thing. So I still do that myself.”

“Maybe I could help,” Mabel said. “I mean, if I can set up my mom’s crummy old sewing machine to do free-motion stitching, I must be at least a little bit good with machine-y things.”

“Sounds good, Mabel Dog. Maybe you can help me with the golf cart tomorrow. She’s pulling to the left.”

They pulled up to the Mystery Shack. As soon as Soos parked the truck behind the building and Dipper got out of the cab, Mabel leaped out and ran ahead of them around the side of the Shack and through the front door. The little bell that hung above the door rang, and behind the cash register on the counter, a familiar freckled face looked up from a magazine.

“Wendy!” Mabel cried, dashing up to the counter as Dipper came in behind her.

Standing up and coming around to Mabel’s side of the counter, Wendy said, “Hey, Mabes! How’s it hangin’?”

“You mean, how are they hangin’,” Mabel replied proudly, turning sideways to Wendy and pushing out her chest. Dipper slapped a hand to his forehead.

Wendy gave Mabel a thumbs-up. “You joined the B.R.A., huh? That’s awesome.” She opened her arms. “Let’s squish ‘em together in solidarity.”

“Right on, boob-sister!” Mabel replied as she embraced Wendy. When they let go, Dipper looked awkwardly at the tall redhead.

“Well, now that you guys have made hugging weird forever, I don’t know if-”

“Oh, you know you want it,” Wendy said. “C’mere, you little freak.” She pulled Dipper to her and hugged him. Mabel smiled, and Wendy looked back at her after she released Dipper.

“Still got the braces, huh?”

“Yeah, for five more months,” Mabel sighed. “I can’t remember what my favorite gum tasted like anymore, or even the name of it.”

“It’s called Hot Pink Sparkle,” Dipper said, “and it tastes like having your face shoved into a cotton-candy machine.”

“So, a sandstorm of over-sweetened agony?” Wendy replied.

“Exactly,” said Dipper.

“I miss the sting of flavor,” Mabel lamented. Then she looked up at Wendy and asked, “So what have you got going on this summer?”

“Oh, same-o same-o,” Wendy replied. “Working at the Shack, hanging out with Tambry and the guys—well, the guys minus Robbie.”

“Oh no,” Mabel said. “Did Tambry and Robbie break up?”

“No, they’re still an item, believe it or not,” Wendy replied, making Mabel smile. “But Robbie’s parents sent him to some kind of mortician camp for the whole summer. He says it’s weird how non-goth most of the kids there are.”

Suddenly, the front door of the Shack burst open. Mabel jerked her head around in surprise, but also anticipation—she only knew one person who typically opened a door with that much force.

“Mabel!” Grenda shouted in her characteristic gravelly voice. 

The big girl’s voice hadn’t changed much, but her body had. Her face still had its youthful roundness, but she was a couple of inches taller. And while Grenda seemed to have at least as much body mass as before, it was distributed a bit differently, with less around her middle and more in her chest and hips. Thus, while her body was not yet that of a full-grown woman, it was definitely making progress in that direction. Mabel had seen these changes in pics Grenda had shared on social media, but they were more striking in person.

In other ways, though, Grenda hadn’t changed at all. Mabel became acutely aware of this when Grenda ran up and seized her in a crushing hug, lifting her off the ground in the process.

“Mabel!” she shouted again. Then she released Mabel and looked at her. “I can’t believe it! You got all sexy!”

Candy had apparently been behind Grenda in the doorway, because now the bespectacled girl ran up and hugged Mabel, too.

“Grenda is right,” Candy said. “You must be beating the boys off with a stick. Although I find that a taser is more efficient,” she added, patting something strapped to her hip.

Candy, too, had changed. She had to be three inches taller now, and she looked willowy in her green-and-white-striped top. The stripes also seemed to emphasize Candy’s chest, where her breast development was about as far along as Mabel’s. The girl’s voice was a touch mellower, and her Korean accent was not quite as thick as it had been a year ago.

“It’s so cool,” Wendy said to the twins, “that you guys’ parents let you come here even though Stan’s not around.” 

“Wellllll, the thing is,” Mabel replied, “our parents don’t exactly know he’s not here.”

“Wait, seriously?” Grenda exclaimed.

“We never mentioned to them that Grunkle Stan is still off traveling the world with Great Uncle Ford,” Mabel explained as Soos entered the room through the back. “But Grunkle Stan was happy to let them think he’d be here supervising us, so here we are!”

“Yep,” Dipper added. “If there’s one thing we can always count on Grunkle Stan to do, it’s bend the truth.” Then Dipper turned to Soos. “So, where should we put our stuff?”

“Well,” Soos replied, “I’m in Mr. Pines’ old room, and Gramma’s got Other Mr. Pines’ old room; you know, the one that used to have the body-switching carpet. And now we’re using the old parlor as a break room. So it looks like you dudes’ll be roomies again.” He chuckled-snorted as he added, “I mean, Dipper can bunk with me if he wants, but Gramma says my snoring is like—what was it, Gramma?”

Mabel’s head whipped around. She hadn’t even noticed Grandma Soos crocheting in the corner until now.

“The torments of el infierno,” the woman replied, as casually as if she were describing the color of her favorite shawl.

“All right,” Dipper sighed.

Mabel didn’t really mind sharing a room with Dipper again. It would make this summer feel more like last summer. Which would be nice, because she and Dipper hadn’t spent that much time together since they started junior high the previous fall. They had different friends now, different classes, and different after-school activities.

So it would be great to have a chance to just hang out like they used to. Although Mabel felt a little bad that Dipper didn’t have a lot of other options, socially speaking; unlike Mabel, her brother didn’t have any same-age friends in Gravity Falls. With Grunkle Ford gone, Dipper’s social circle would probably consist solely of Wendy, Soos, and Mabel and her friends. But maybe his UFO research would keep him busy enough that it wouldn’t bother him.

“I just need to grab my stuff,” Mabel said to the girls, “and then I want to hear everything about everything!”


The rest of Mabel’s day was nothing short of wonderful. She spent hours catching up with the girls, then had dinner at the Shack with Dipper, Soos, Gramma Soos, and Melody (who had an apartment in town but often stayed for dinner). After that, they all spent some quality time in front of the TV, and then Melody went home and Grandma Soos declared bedtime, as the kids would be starting work in the morning.

The twins used the same system of privacy that they had during the previous summer: Dipper changed into his PJs in the bedroom while Mabel put on her nightgown in the bathroom. (This evening, she’d chosen a purple one featuring a picture of a kitten playing with a tangle of computer cables and saying “I iz tek suport.”) Then she called, “I’m decent!” to signal her brother that it was safe to come into the bathroom to brush his teeth alongside her.

“It’s so cool that all our friends from last year are still here this year,” Mabel said as she squeezed sparkly toothpaste onto her brush. “It’ll be great to hang out with Wendy and her teenage buddies. Especially now that we’re teenagers, too.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Dipper replied. “Last summer, Wendy was fifteen and we were twelve, so she was twenty-five percent older than me- I mean, us. But this summer, Wendy is sixteen and we’re thirteen, which means she’s only twenty-three percent older than us.”

“Wait a second,” Mabel said, her eyes narrowing. “You aren’t that good at doing math in your head. Did you figure all that out before we got here?”

“Well, I-”

She pointed at Dipper and shouted, “You’re still into Wendy!”

“Mabel, keep it down!” Dipper hissed.

“Gosh,” Mabel went on, “she’s still like, what, a foot taller than you? When you make out, are you going to stand on a box or something, or just sit in her lap like a ventriloquist dummy?”


“Seriously, bro,” Mabel said. “Didn’t she kinda tell you to your face that she wasn’t into you like that?”

“Technically, she said she was too old for me. But now that we’re a little closer in age, maybe-”

Mabel held up her palms. “Dude,” she said soberly. “You’re in junior high, she’s in high school. All your math can’t change that.”

“I know, but-”

“Even if she wanted to date you, think about what that would do to her. Everybody would think she was some kind of perv for dating a thirteen-year-old. Remember how uncomfortable you were when we were time traveling and five-year-old Wendy was hitting on you?”

“She wasn’t hitting on me,” Dipper replied defensively. “She just said I was cute. And she wasn’t even the one who said it; Tambry was.” 

Hearing his denial out loud must have made Dipper see how lame it was, because he paused and then sighed deeply before speaking again.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “The age thing is a deal-breaker. I just have to move on.”

“I’m sorry, bro,” Mabel said, patting his shoulder. “But hey, I’m getting a second chance at an epic summer romance, and so are you. Maybe your perfect girl is right here in Gravity Falls, just waiting to be found.”

“Maybe. Thanks, Mabel.”

Once they finished brushing, they both climbed into bed. To Mabel, it felt nice to snuggle down into the old cot; despite its saggy springs and thin mattress of indeterminate vintage, it felt cozily familiar. Then Dipper reached over to the old lamp on his nightstand and turned out the light.

“G’night, Mabel.”

“G’night, Dipper.”

Mabel lay there in the dark with her eyes closed, but she was still awake. Normally, she fell asleep pretty easily, but on this first night back in Gravity Falls, the chirping crickets and the hooting of a distant owl were like an old song that she liked but had forgotten about. She wanted to enjoy it for just a little longer.

Then, after several minutes, there was another sound: the rustling of bedsheets. At first, Mabel thought it was just Dipper turning over in his sleep. But the rustling didn’t stop; instead, it soon took on a rhythmic quality, like Dipper was making the same movement over and over again beneath the covers. She wondered what he was doing. And then it hit her.

Oh my gosh. Is Dipper bopping the baloney? Mabel thought, using an expression she’d learned from her school friend Bertie.

She listened intently, trying to discern by sound alone exactly what Dipper was doing. Obviously, he had his hand on his thingie, and he was moving it up and down, but how did that actually work? Could he grab it through his PJ bottoms, the way that Mabel could rub her fun-button (another term acquired from Bertie) through her panties? Or did he reach inside? No, if his thingie was hard, there probably wasn’t room inside his pants to jerk it up and down. He’d have to take it out. Which meant that right now, there was nothing between Dipper’s “baloney” and Mabel but a few feet of air and one thin bargain-basement bedsheet.

Suddenly, Mabel realized that without the least bit of conscious thought on her part, her hand had wandered down below her waist, pulled up the hem of her nightgown, and slid into her rainbow-hued panties. Mabel froze.

No way, she thought, yanking her hand out of her undies. No way am I trying to play with myself because of hearing Dipper whack the olive loaf (another Bertie-ism—Bertie’s parents ran the local deli). That’s way too weird. 

But she couldn’t stop listening. And as the flapping of Dipper’s sheets grew more rapid, Mabel grabbed her right wrist with her left hand to restrain it from stirring things up down south.

“Nggggh,” Dipper grunted quietly, obviously suppressing the sound as much as he was able.

Omigosh, Mabel thought, he’s shooting his stuff! He’s shooting it right now! 

Questions raced through Mabel’s mind like cars on a passing bullet train. How much was he shooting? What did it feel like when he did it? Was the sheet soaking it up, or had Dipper brought a tissue or something? What did his stuff look like? Feel like? Taste like?

That last question shocked her. There was no way she should want to know what her brother’s baby-seeds tasted like. That was way messed up.

For minutes, she lay frozen, terrified of giving Dipper the least hint that she was awake. She listened intently to Dipper’s breathing as it gradually slowed down. And then, after agonizing minutes, the breathing became soft snoring.

Several more minutes passed as Mabel fought to go to sleep herself instead of giving in to the urge to rub her love button for all she was worth. But she did not succeed. Again, seemingly on its own, her hand went down below her waist, pulled up the hem of her nightgown, and slipped under the waistband of her panties. Mabel finally relented and put her other hand on her chest to caress her small breast through her nightgown.

Her focus was divided three ways, among touching herself, not making any noise, and choosing a boy to fantasize about. But Mabel soon found that she wasn’t capable of that level of multitasking, because every time she tried to think about some cute boy from school or from some band she liked, thoughts of Dipper intruded on her fantasy.

So she decided not to multitask. Instead, she took her pillow out from under her head and put it over her face to muffle any sound she might make. Then she focused solely on pleasuring herself.

The previous fall, when Mabel had begun to show the first physical signs of puberty, she had learned—from a combination of sleepover hearsay and one embarrassing library book her mother had checked out for her—the basics of female masturbation. So she knew what she was doing when she slowly rubbed her clitoris in a circle, focusing on maintaining just the right speed and pressure to maximize her pleasure.

With her other hand, she fingered her nipple through the fabric of her nightgown. Her breasts had been quite sensitive—mostly in a good way—ever since they’d begun growing, and she had found that toying with them while masturbating enhanced the experience.

Mabel was already so hot and bothered that it wasn’t long before her finger was whirling madly against her clit and her other hand was squeezing her breast ardently. 

“Mmmpphh…” she moaned into the pillow. “Mmmmhh…MMMMH-!”

Even though Mabel was in mid-orgasm, she managed to stop herself from being overly loud about it. This made her climax less satisfying than it could have been, but that was better than risking waking up Dipper in the most embarrassing way possible.

At least now, she could finally go to sleep.


The next few days at the Shack weren’t terribly eventful. Mabel and Dipper’s job was the same as it had been the year before—stocking items, sweeping up, and so forth. But now that Soos was running the place, the twins got paid real money instead of the pittance Grunkle Stan had given them. (“Back in my day,” he’d said, “they didn’t call it ‘child exploitation’; they called it ‘starting at the bottom.’”)

The result of this wage hike was that Mabel had enough money for the essentials: makeup, hair doodles, and of course clothes. Mabel’s favorite clothing store in Gravity Falls, Dressing in the Dark, had a penguin-themed sweater she was saving up for.

On the other hand, Mabel’s redux quest for an epic summer romance was off to a rocky start. During trips downtown with the girls, she’d hit on three guys in as many days and received nothing for her efforts but awkward looks and slow backing away. 

Mabel couldn’t understand why she was still getting nowhere with the boys of Gravity Falls when she’d learned so much from her mistakes of the past nine months. For example, she’d learned that if you were going to throw rocks at a boy’s window to get his attention late at night, you should choose rocks light enough not to break said window. Also, you should pay attention to any BEWARE OF DOG signs that might be posted in the yard. That little faux pas had cost Mabel a perfectly good jelly sandal.

It didn’t help that Mabel kept having unbidden, intrusive thoughts about what she had ear-witnessed during her and Dipper’s first night at the Shack. Mabel hadn’t gotten a good look at Dipper’s thingie since the days of their childhood when their parents bathed them together, and she found herself unwittingly musing about what it was like now that they were older and puberty was underway. Was it bigger? What did it look like when it was hard? What would touching it feel like?

Each time these thoughts arose, Mabel did her best to push them out of her head. Sure, part of why she wanted to come back to Gravity Falls was to be closer to Dipper, but not like that.

But every time Mabel pushed those thoughts down, others took their place. Was it possible that Dipper knew she was awake when he’d started pleasuring himself? Could he have wanted her to hear him?

No, no, no, no, no, that’s crazy, she thought. There’s no way Dipper would want me to hear him…doing that.

But her brain, uncooperative organ that it was, insisted on dredging up memories to refute Mabel’s arguments. She remembered a few times during the past few months when she thought she might have seen Dipper looking at her chest when she was wearing one of her tighter-fitting tops or nightgowns. And once, while searching for a lost hair clip among the sofa cushions, she thought she might have caught him checking out her butt.

“Oh, come on, brain,” she said aloud when she was looking in the mirror in the bathroom after work that day. “You’re just making that stuff up to mess with me. Gosh, it’s like those ads on TV say: A mind is a terrible thing.”

Complicating things further, Mabel kept finding herself goofing around with Dipper in physical ways. They’d always engaged in a certain amount of horseplay, at least until this past year, but coming back to Gravity Falls seemed to have released their inner children in a big way.

That afternoon, when the kids had finished work for the day, Dipper was restocking the rack of postcards in the gift shop. Mabel saw him reaching up to refill the top of the rack and couldn’t resist the opportunity to sneak up and tickle him under his arms, causing him to yelp and throw postcards everywhere. 

He turned around, laughing. Then, in a melodramatic tone, he faux-shouted, “Mabel, you fool! You’ve just unleashed…the Noogie Monster!”

Mabel shrieked and then giggled insanely as Dipper chased her around the room. She let him corner her behind the counter, at which point he threw his arm around her waist and gave her upper arm a noogie as they both laughed.

It feels so good to be like this again, Mabel thought. To just be silly and have fun together without worrying about other stuff, like we used to before junior high.

Then Dipper got a call from one of his school friends from back home. Mabel figured he would probably be on the phone for a while, so after she picked up the postcards she’d made him drop, she decided to take a little walk in the woods.

Throughout her life, various people had accused Mabel of having a selective memory—specifically, that she tended to remember the good things and filter out the bad. Which perhaps was why, when she set off into the trees, it had not even occurred to her to consider whether this was wise, given the many bizarre and often unpleasant creatures that dwelled in those woods. Although the being she now encountered as she came to the junction of two foot paths was not one she would have expected to run into even if she had considered it. And she especially wouldn’t have expected to find him wearing a cloud-like blue taffeta dress, or to have a sparkly tiara in his pile of blonde hair.

“Gideon?” Mabel exclaimed. “Is that you? What are you wearing?”

Suddenly, dozens of knee-high, white-bearded gnomes appeared all around Mabel and Gideon. This situation was looking worse by the second.

“Indeed, Mabel,” exclaimed one of the gnomes—Jeff, Mabel recalled—“this is our Queen Gideon! Isn’t she a picture of loveliness? The thousand of us have been married to her since the spring.”

Mabel blinked. “But…Gideon’s not a-”

“Excuse us for a moment, my loves,” Gideon interrupted in his high-pitched, twangy voice as he took Mabel by the arm and pulled her aside.

“These l’il fellers,” he said in a fierce whisper, “have been without a queen for so long that they don’t remember nuthin’ ‘bout the facts o’ life. And I aim to keep it that way. Ya get me?”

Mabel thought about that for a moment, then grinned. “I get you. And I hope the thousand and one of you have a wonderful life together.”

“Thanks, Mabel. Much obliged.”

As Mabel went on her way, she felt her optimism come surging back. Now that Gideon was the gnomes’ queen, she wouldn’t have to worry about him or them for the rest of the summer. Maybe that didn’t get her closer to finding a summer romance, but it at least took away a potential barrier. It was as though someone had removed all the sharp rocks from the beach, leaving Mabel free to wander barefoot down the shores of love. 

As Mabel continued down the footpath, she heard a sound that she thought might be the call of a bird, save that it seemed oddly low and ethereal. The sound died out just as Mabel stopped and looked around for the source of it. But then she heard it again, and she followed it, turning off the path into the trees.

She had only walked about forty feet through the dense pines when she stepped out into a clearing. The clearing was against the side of a short cliff, the rocky face of which featured an opening that was just slightly taller than Mabel and about as wide as the span of her arms.

“Wow, a cave,” Mabel said.

She stopped and listened again. A lot of creatures—natural and supernatural—made their homes in caves, and she didn’t want to walk in on an angry mama bear with cubs, or a wood nymph that was taking a bath or something. But Mabel heard nothing, 

Dipper and Mabel’s parents had given the twins cell phones for their thirteenth birthday, which they had both been excited about. Mabel took hers out of her purse and started up the flashlight app before tiptoeing into the cave.

The cave went back almost thirty feet before it dead-ended. Mabel scanned around with her phone-flashlight, wondering if she might find an ancient cave drawing, or beer bottles from an illicit teenage party. Instead, she found something else, embedded in the cave’s rear wall.

“Whoa, what is this?”

Mabel knew a lot about sculpture. Her art teacher had described Mabel’s clay rendering of two deep-sea tube worms kissing as “deeply surreal,” which Mabel assumed was high praise. So Mabel recognized chisel marks on the rock’s surface. But they didn’t look clean enough to have been made with a regular steel chisel. It was more like they’d been made with another rock, albeit a chisel-shaped one. So it might be ancient.

But if it was a sculpture, what was it supposed to be? Mabel moved her head to the left and the right, looking at the statue from different angles.

“Ohhhh, I see,” she said, standing on tippy toe and squinting down at the stone artwork. “It’s a lady sitting cross-legged. A lady with really big boobies.” 

She chuckled. “I’ve gotta show this to Dipper. An ancient artifact with big boobies will check a lot of his boxes.”

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Mabel.”

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