Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3872188.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Fandom:
      Gravity_Falls
  Character:
      Bill_Cipher, Dipper_Pines
  Additional Tags:
      Exactly_What_It_Says_on_the_Tin, Masturbation, weird_headspaces
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-05-04 Words: 1316
****** Bipper Fucks the Pain Hole ******
by mariachiMushroom
Summary
     Bipper fucks the pain hole.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Summary: Bipper fucks the pain hole.
“Pine Tree, I'm bored!” whined Bill. “There's nothing to do around here. I
can't even go leave this body to laugh at those idiots in the fifth world.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” said the incorporeal spirit of
Dipper, who was currently reading the same page of his mystery novel for the
11th time. He really needed to give Mabel the schematics of that automatic-
page-turning machine. “You were the one who decided to possess me in the first
place.”
“How was I supposed to know that Stanford Pines carried around a Sigil of
Binding?” The demon rubbed his forehead, a complicated tattoo of interconnected
rectangles overlaid on the Big Dipper-shaped birthmark. “If we're stuck like
this, you should at least entertain me.”
“Hey, we have the entire Mystery Boys series in paperback. You should start
with 'The Rats in the Pantry' for an introduction to the characters, but the
books don't really start to pick up until 'The Secret of the Old Grist Mill'--”
“Bored, bored, bored, bored!” Bill punctuated each word with a whack of his
forehead on the wall.
“Don't do that! You're going to give me a concussion!”
“Ha! Maybe then I'll finally get dumb enough to be entertained by your stupid
books.”
“Hey! The Mystery Boys was a seminal influence on many later television series,
including Ducktectives!”
“I'm going to hit my head on the wall some more to drown out your voice.” A
trickle of blood ran down the body's forehead, courtesy of an exposed nail in
the wooden wall.
“Wait!”
“What is it now, Pine Tree?”
“Have you ever heard of the Pain Hole?”
“Oh, you mean the tears of the Earth Mother as her children ate their way out
of her womb?
“Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. I had to stick my hand in there for this crazy
Manotaur Manliness Mission, and it hurt a lot. Like, a lot more than hitting my
forehead against the wall, which you should stop doing, because I like my
brains unscrambled. The point is, you could get all the pain you want from that
hole without hurting my body at all.”
“Oh, but half the fun is the horrified expression on your face!”
“I'll fake it. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?”
“Sure, let's go! Right after I get me some splinters!”
***
The sunlight felt good on Bill's skin. His supernatural senses could detect the
steady corruption of information as the UV radiation penetrated his skin cells
and warped his DNA. In the forest air wafted the scents of a carcinogenic wood
fire, the dank mustiness of decaying wood, and even the putrid stench of a
rotting rabbit corpse. Life was great!
And it was about to get even better, because up ahead was the clearing that
held the Pain Hole. The spirit of Dipper Pines led the way, pointing at the
crack in the ground even though there was already an obvious sign.
“Welp, there it is!” Dipper said. “All you have to do is stick your hand
inside, you monster.”
“Don't mind if I do!” This should be interesting. With no hesitation at all,
Bill stuck his hand in.
And screamed.
Razor blades were cutting into his flesh, slicing off his hand, peeling back
the skin and fat and muscle until his bone was exposed and then the pain was
inside the bone as well, his marrow boiling away –
Bill jerked his hand away, certain that it would be a bloody stump. But
instead, the arm was perfectly fine, without a scratch on it. Or rather,
without any new scratches on it, since Bill had gotten into the habit of
scraping his uncut nails on Dipper's arm.
“Ha! You didn't even last as long as I did,” gloated Dipper.
“Shut up, Pine Tree. I was just checking that I still had an arm.”
“Well, if you want to stop, I understand.”
“We'll see about that.” Taking a deep breath, Bill once again plunged his hand
into the hole. This time, his hand was being melted off, waves of acid
sloughing off his skin until raw muscle was exposed, the corrosive fluid
traveling through his veins and up his shoulder. Tears prickled at the edge of
Bill's vision. He clawed at the ground, kicking up clouds of dust that choked
his throat. The body writhed as Bill overrode its natural protective reflexes
to flood his pain receptors.
And then, his head burst into a cloud of bliss. His body seemed to have given
up trying to escape the pain, and was flooding his brain with endorphins to
distract itself from its imminent death. A pleasant warmth flooded through his
body, like taking a warm bath in ecstasy.
The funny thing about flesh bodies was that they had a lot of wires, but not a
lot of buttons. And sometimes, signals got crossed. As Bill basked in the heady
mix of torturous agony and natural opiates, saliva drooling from his mouth onto
the dusty ground, his groin pulsed. The blood was pooling into his organ,
filling it up and stiffening the flesh. Bill grinned deliriously, and pressed
his crotch into the ground. He was rewarded by a tingle of pleasure that
promised to grow if he could only apply enough friction.
“Oh, Pine Tree, why didn't you tell me about this place sooner,” Bill moaned,
stretching out his vowels pornographically. His free hand went to his pants,
pressing against the lump in his shorts.
“Wait, you can't do that here. Anyone could wander by and see you with your
hand in my pants, I mean my hand in your pants, I mean jacking off!”
“Rela-ah-x. I'll be done, nhgh, soon.” He lay on his side to stick his arm in
the hole as deep as it would go, pulling out his organ with his other hand. Now
it felt like his Pain Hole arm was being crushed in a vise in rhythm to his
heart beat. Bill stroked his erect member to the same rhythm, syncing the waves
of pain and pleasure. His entire body was coming apart, undone by it's
confusion. Tears dripping, whimpers squeezed from the throat, Bill couldn't
tell if it was from the pain or the pleasure or the sicking, excruciating,
beatific mixture of both. The pressure in his crotch was building, waves of
pleasure cresting to their peak. So close, so close to completion.
Before he spilled over, Bill pulled his arm out of the Pain Hole. The limb was
a limp noodle that could barely support his weight. He weakly dragged his body
over the hole.
“Are you done yet?” said Dipper, huddled in a fetal position with his hands
over his eyes.
“Not quite.” And Bill plunged his dick into the pain hole.
Fire ants biting their way up his urethra. All the hair being pulled from his
crotch. A mousetrap snapping on his balls, cracking the eggs. A wave of fire
traveling from his core, down his cock, and to the tip, tingling with pleasure.
Bill's hips jerked as he fucked the Pain Hole, spilling his seed into the
bowels of the earth.
When the aftershocks of his intense orgasm died down, Bill pulled out, dripping
cloudy fluid onto the ground. He rested on his knees, face down, useless arms
stretched in front of him, as if he was supplicating some god. Sweat trickled
down his face and dripped from his brows. Panting, drooling, dripping, drying.
All Bill could do was lie there, covered in dust and his own fluids.
“That was intense. I can feel the ground shaking.” Small rocks were starting to
rattle around him.
“Bill, start running. Bill? Bill!”
“Huh?” Bill looked up groggily, to see a pair of hooves. The stench of unwashed
gym socks filled the air. A masculine voice bellowed.
“How dare you desecrate the Pain Hole!”
 
End Notes
     Was thinking of writing another chapter in which the Manotaur
     "chastises" Bipper. Leave a comment if you're interested.
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