# Regrettable Butt Worth It

By: TheDragonBoy

## Content

“Okay, let’s give this a go,” Dipper said, a little less than confidently. He’d double checked everything he could think of, but something about this still felt dangerous, like maybe he’d missed something. But this was science, after all. Weird science, but science, nonetheless. If he didn’t press on in the pursuit of knowledge, what other twelve-year-old would?

He reached down and put a hand on the flashlight, being careful not to move it from its exactly measured position on the table, then he glanced out one last time over the crisscrossed path of mirrors he’d lined up in front of it. He nodded seriously to no one and flipped the switch.

Light shone from the common bulb, through the weird crystal from the forest, across the table, bouncing off mirror after mirror: left, right, forward, back, left again, up, down and finally-

“Whahhhhh!”

The reflected light shone in Dipper’s face, momentarily blinding him, and the next thing he saw was the table leg rising in front of him like a pine tree.

“What- No! Ugh!” He bonked his head on the table leg in defeat. He’d obviously miscalculated the angles on those reflectors.

There was a distant click as the flashlight shut off atop the table. An auto-off switch had been one of his first safety improvements, Jerry-rigged out of a rubber band. He had been trying to develop more safety features, but those required research and testing like this which, ironically, was somewhat dangerous. He’d planned to have a spotter around in case of accidental shrinkage, but that morning Mabel had decided to go off and be Mabel, so now here he was, alone and tiny, standing on the floor.

He sighed. Thankfully he’d set a backup plan: a bit of string dangling off the edge of the table for just such an event. He started his walk of shame.

“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” came a familiar voice.

“Wendy!? Wendy! Wendy, I’m down here!”

The redhead came walking into the Shack’s little dining nook. It had been the only place with a big enough table for Dipper’s experiment, so that’s where he’d set up. She looked at the strange arrangement of mirrors and then glanced around the room.

“Hello? Anyone here?” she called.

“Down here!” The shrunken boy repeated, louder this time. But it was no use. His tiny voice cracks were too quiet to be heard.

“Hey, wait. Isn’t that that crazy size changing thing?” She walked over to the table and picked up the flashlight. Dipper had tried awkwardly explaining this to her once. She wasn’t really sure exactly how it worked, but she did know it was dangerous enough that Gideon had almost used it to take over the Shack. “Probably not the best idea to just leave this lying around.”

“No, wait! Wendy, I need that!” Dipper called in vain. He started running toward her as she started to stash the flashlight hilt-first in the pocket of her jeans.

The closer he got, the more he realized just how small he’d gotten. He was even shorter than the first time he’d been shrunk! He managed to sprint as fast as his little, little, tiny legs could carry him, and leap just as Wendy turned to walk off. He landed on the toe of her boot and pulled himself up, a moment before her foot left the ground.

He “ahhh”ed and “whoa”ed as she stepped, gripping the leather with arms and legs like a life raft.

“Gotta get the flashlight! Gotta get the flashlight!” he chanted frantically, before an involuntary retch cut off his words like a motion sick kid on a carnival ride. He shut his mouth and started inching his way along the boot, clawing his way up the front until he finally reached the lip.

The pant leg was the obvious next step. Her jeans extended down into the shafts of her boots. He pulled himself up unsteadily over the rim and reached out for the blue denim. His fingers just brushed the rough fabric before the foot he was riding came down and struck the ground. The impact shook his precarious balance and he tumbled forward with a “whah!” and an “oof!”.

*Boot*

Several more uncomfortable exclamations worked their way out of his mouth as he suddenly found himself caught inside Wendy’s boot, repeatedly mashed between sock and shoe as she continued on her casual way. He groped around wildly, light flickering in and out in time with her step. He managed to find denim once again and latched on. He began to climb in the direction he thought was up, and luckily he ended up being right.

Dipper emerged from the boot, panting.

“Oh man, that was close. …Wait, why is it so dark? …Oooh no…”

He’d climbed his way out of the boot alright, but he’d managed to grab hold of the inside of her pant leg, so now he was-

*Pants*

“I’m inside Wendy’s pants!?” he shrieked. His face turned red, and for the first time he was grateful that he was too tiny to be heard.

Oh man oh man, I REALLY shouldn’t be here, he told himself, trying to ignore how he actually felt about the arrangement. For a moment he almost considered climbing back down, but he was not about to risk being squished in her boot again.

…Was he?

No, he wasn’t, he decided. But with that option out of the way, the only other direction to go was…

Dipper tilted his head up. A tiny bit of light filtered in through the jeans, enough to see where Wendy’s socks ended and her legs began. The pants were fairly well fitting and didn’t give him very far of a view, but he knew what was up there. He hesitated, frozen in indecision, but he started to feel his wimpy little arms getting tired. He told himself there was no other option, that he didn’t have a choice, and that he definitely wasn’t doing this because some part of himself really, really wanted to. And then he started to climb.

“Huh, pretty quiet around here today,” Wendy commented aloud. Soos was busy out back fixing the golf cart and painting it with hot rod flames, Mabel was out on the town, Stan had disappeared off to who-knows-where, and Dipper had apparently found somewhere else to hang out. She took on a bored expression as she reentered the gift shop, heading back toward the counter.

This is fine. This is fine, Dipper told himself. He was starting to sweat and was borderline hyperventilating. That, combined with his pounding heartbeat and, you know, being less than an inch tall and clinging to the inside of a swinging pant leg, made climbing a bit hard. But he kept an iron grip. He had to make it up to the top. That was where freedom was. Freedom and safety. Freedom and safety and definitely nothing else. Especially not-

Oh man oh man oh man oh man… Up ahead, he saw a fabric of a different color. A new article of clothing. His head went fuzzy and he almost fainted. He wanted to close his eyes and catch his breath, but he could not bring himself to look away. He panted in the Wendy-scented air, and stared at the edge of her panties.

I can’t believe this is happening, he thought, not entirely sure how he meant it. He was equal parts embarrassed, terrified and thrilled. He kept climbing, and soon instead of occasionally brushing up against the smooth skin of his crush’s leg, he was brushing up against the soft material of her underwear. A single thought came to dominate his mind, crude and half-formed:

Wendy butt! Wendy butt! Wendy butt! The half of him that had some restraint tried its noble best to ignore everything, but the rest of him soaked it all in with detail.

Meanwhile, the oblivious teen approached her station at the gift store register. There were no tourists around, so there was nothing for her to do, but walking around aimlessly wasn’t exactly fun either. She pulled out her stool and sat down.

Oh man, I’m literally touching Wendy’s butt right now. He could feel its outline, its soft shape, pressing up against his back as he climbed toward her waist. It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and touch it. This was so… so… hot? Was that the word? Was that what people called this? The boy didn’t know for sure. But whatever it was, it was intense, and part of him couldn’t help wishing that it would last just a bit longer.

That’s when gravity suddenly shifted, he felt himself plummeting downward, and then the relatively loose confines of Wendy’s pants became very tight.

*Sat On*

“Ooof…” Dipper squeaked, feeling the air squeezed out of him. An enormous weight pressed down from above, nearly crushing his legs, waist, and part of his belly. He tried to push himself free, but the soft, heavy mass that he realized with a start was Wendy’s butt cheek, had him pinned hard against the inside of her pants.

It dawned on him. Wendy was sitting down. On him. Wendy was sitting on him.

For a moment, Dipper felt like the luckiest boy in the world. Honestly, he was pretty lucky. A few inches over and he would have been pinned directly under her ass, under her full weight, and that probably would have squashed him, or at least suffocated him. As it happened, he was only half underneath her, with his head and chest coming up around the side of her denim clad derriere, and her glutes were just soft enough to deform around him and keep his little body unbroken.

That didn’t make breathing easy, but with the level of flush covering Dipper’s face, breathing had long since stopped being easy already. The boy lay there under the looming shadow of the coolest girl he knew, stuffed into her pants, panting and mumbling incoherently, with an expression somewhere between ecstasy and existential dread.

Wendy leaned forward onto the counter and tapped her finger, bored. She idly glanced over the empty gift shop. She wished Stan would at least let her friends hang out there with her. It’s not like they could ‘chase away customers’ while the place was deserted like this.

*gurgle*

A little sound reached her ears in the quiet of the empty room; a little burble from her belly. She hardly even noticed and didn’t think anything of it, until…

She glanced over the room again, purposefully this time. It was definitely empty. She couldn’t hear anyone nearby. And she hadn’t seen anybody when she’d walked through the Shack. She quietly lifted one leg, unseen behind the counter, and:

*prt*

Dipper’s eyes widened. Then they teared up and he began to cough and gag, pressing his hand up over his mouth. Trapped inside her pants with him, the gas surrounded his little body. He could feel the uncomfortable warmth wash over him, blanketing him in stench as it slowly seeped out. His lungs complained in earnest, and for a moment he quickly pondered if this was how his young life would end. Crushed beneath the butt of his crush and smothered by her stink.

Then Wendy stood up.

The pressure disappeared even more quickly than it had come, and gravity shifted once again. Distraught and disoriented, Dipper began to fall, and might have wound up right back in the boot, had he not caught hold of some fabric. He yelped and nearly let go when he realized the fabric in question was the edge of her panties, but the fear of winding up back in her shoe kept him holding on. Still coughing, he waved one hand in front of his face in the newly opened space, and as she began to walk again the movement of her legs helped to air things out.

With much renewed drive, he began to climb once again. This might have been the best moment of his life and all, but he was not looking to be on the receiving end of another butt blast. He had to get out of there and quick!

Almost there… almost there… almost…

*GASP*

Dipper reached the waistband of her jeans and forced his head out, taking a huge breath. He worked one arm up and then the other, throwing them out over the denim so he could just hang there and breathe for a moment without needing to hold on to anything.

He looked around, he was still in shadow, but things were considerably brighter. He’d come out sandwiched between her white tank top and her flannel overshirt, but it was a particularly warm day, so she was wearing it with the front unbuttoned and open. Looking down, he could catch glimpses of the ground moving by below as she walked. Up above, the curve of her body spanned on like a tree trunk under a canopy. Trying to look forward, the fabric hung in waves around her tank top, so he couldn’t see where she was going, but light still filtered in from the outside.

Briefly, he considered his next move. He could go directly for the flashlight in her pocket, but he doubted he’d be able to use it with it stuffed in her pants, and he didn’t want to risk trying to get it out and accidentally breaking the crystal with a drop. No, his better move was just to get Wendy’s attention. Get to her ear, get her attention, give absolutely zero details about how he’d gotten up there, and then never speak of this ever again.

So he started to climb once more. He grabbed on to the inside of her plaid flannel shirt and pulled himself out of her pants, silently appreciating that at this size his arms were actually strong enough to hold his weight. If he could reach her collar, then he should be able to pull himself up onto her shoulder, and from there he’d be in earshot. He wasn’t too far now. Nothing else could go wrong.

Wendy walked into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind her. That bit of gas had turned out to be a herald of things to come, and now she had some business to take care of.

*Bathroom*

Dipper yelped as Wendy reached down, briefly sending the bit of shirt he was clinging to into freefall.

The teen paused for a minute, thinking she might have heard something, but shrugged it off and continued. She gripped the hem of her pants and slipped them off along with her underwear, down her legs in a simple, practiced motion. She reached up with one hand and threw her long, red hair up over her shoulder to get it out of the way, and then she plonked herself down on the porcelain.

Dipper, tossed around by all the movement, heard the familiar *plonk*, but didn’t immediately recognize the sound. He put one hand to his head, holding on with the other, and groaned quietly, blinking away the daze.

When his eyes focused, they nearly popped right out of his skull.

Wendy was leaning forward a bit, her open shirt hanging a short distance in front of her, off to either side. And directly below that, right underneath where little Dipper was hanging, were Wendy’s bare, naked legs, gently spread, fiery red bush on full display.

Dipper’s mouth fell open, and he swayed there with a slack jawed stare. His mind was an indistinct static of overwhelming, pubescent emotions. His hands were so sweaty that one might wonder how he was even still holding on.

He took in every detail, every gentle curve, every little auburn strand adorning her crotch, the way the tiny bits of pudge squished as she shifted her toned thighs.

*sploossssshhh*

It actually took Dipper a good few seconds to register what was going on. Even staring straight at it, the stream of yellow departing from underneath the red bush, rushing out from between her legs down into the bowl below, just didn’t become apparent to him at first.

*prrrt*
*pssssssss*

It was the smell, slowly wafting up to him, that finally started to bring him back to his senses. It crinkled his nose, discoloring the beautiful fantasy scene. And so eventually he did realize: he was watching Wendy pee.

*plop*

He noticed her torso clench and relax.

Correction: he was watching her do more than that.

He grimaced, but he found himself still inexplicably unable to look away. Bouts of pungent gas drifted up from the bowl below, warm and fresh, a mosaic of unpleasant odors, accompanied by the familiar, yet never quite so uncomfortable sound of porcelain being put to use; his unrequited crush relieving herself on the toilet right before his eyes.

He gawked, taking it all in. He shouldn’t be watching this. He really shouldn’t be watching this! He should be continuing his climb so he could get out of this situation as fast as humanly possible! But he could not look away. And what was he going to do? Pop up on her shoulder in the middle of a shit? No. Very no. If he had any chance of survival, he needed plausible deniability. And that meant waiting until she had her pants on. It was just by coincidence that that meant he could stay hanging there and staring like a hypnotized halfwit.

Wendy casually finished emptying her bowels into the bowl and reached over to tear some TP off the roll. She half-stood and wiped, then tossed, then flushed, pulling up her pants before making her way to the sink to wash.

The waves of a flannel shirt once again obscured Dipper’s view, like curtains closing after a show. The rush of water in the toilet and then the sink might have been likened to roaring cheers. This had been a moment the young Pines boy would never, ever forget. Not for the rest of his life. And he wasn’t quite sure if he would end up treasuring it, or trying to bury it deep.

*Upper Body Climb (Bathroom Over)*

As he heard Wendy leaving the bathroom, he finally shook himself from his trance, feeling his arms starting to tire again. It was time to get out of this mess. He turned his attention upward and started climbing again, determined to keep his head straight and stay focused. He was getting up to Wendy’s ear and getting off this crazy ride before-

Oh my god is that-!?

Dipper’s head turned on its own, wrenched from his control. He’d gotten a few inches higher and noticed the shape of the teenager’s torso changing, curving very distinctly. He’d reached her chest. He’d reached her…

…Boob… the boy thought dumbly, once again staring in a helpless trance. The smooth, round swell was larger than his entire body. It jiggled ever so gently with each of her steps. He could see the dim outline of her bra beneath the white tank top, the strap wrapping around towards her back.

He wanted to touch it. Oh man did he want to touch it. For a moment he even considered the effort it would take: could he reach out with one hand and just give it a little feel without falling or catching her attention? He shook his head violently.

Come on, Dipper! You’re acting weirder than Mabel! he scolded himself. Though now he began to wonder: did she feel like this when she went nuts over her crushes? Suddenly he started feeling a bit more sympathy for her ‘boy crazy’ moods.

Why was he feeling like this? Was it his stupid puberty hormones? He wanted to get closer. He felt the urge. To her boobs, to her butt- even when she’d been pooping he’d wanted to get closer! And only his good sense and instinct for self-preservation had stopped him. He grabbed hold of himself once again, attempting to focus on his intellect.

With significant effort, he lifted one hand and put it another centimeter higher on the flannel shirt, instead of out onto the looming breast, and continued his ascent. He forced himself higher even as he continued to watch Wendy’s chest bounce with every step until the beautiful sight faded from view.

In its place came a growing mixture of scents: chemicals crafted to resemble flowers, mingled with the sharp twinge of sweat. He could see above him an area of particular darkness, which he altered his course to avoid. But as he passed by, even the pungent aroma of the girl’s armpit seemed to beckon him closer, her scent lingering in his nostrils.

He pushed on, gripping his senses harder than the shirt he clung to. He was almost there. He could see the edges of her collarbone now, light pouring in from the outside world. All he had to do was get up onto her shoulder.

Wendy, now slightly lighter, made her way lazily back to the gift shop. She walked back around the counter and once again took a seat. From the edge of her vision, she narrowly missed the insect-sized spec that was Dipper, nearly thrown off by the motion. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, catching up on texts as the shrunken boy executed the tricky maneuver that got him outside of her shirt and finally up onto the plateau of her shoulder.

He looked up at her giant face and focused on her ear. He walked closer and took a deep breath, preparing to shout as loud as his tiny body could.

A small bout of tiredness struck the teen. Still looking down at her phone, she gave a big, wide, idle yawn, falling forward into a lazy slouch.

The unexpected shift knocked Dipper just off balance. He tumbled sideways, toward Wendy’s front in the direction she’d slumped. He caught sight of the drop down to the counter below, a distance many times his own height. Screaming, he reached out for something to grab, and thankfully found his tiny hands wrapping around a strand of her red hair.

He shrieked and swung like a wild man in a jungle. Out and around he went, through the open air in an arcing path that took him around her cheek, under her eye, and hooked him straight into-

*Oral Vore*

*ACK*!

Wendy’s loud yawn- loud enough in her ears to block out the sounds of any hypothetical shrunken friends who might be screaming nearby- was jarringly interrupted by a sudden sensation in the back of her throat. She gagged and retched but the irritation was uncomfortably deep, behind her tongue.

*GULP*!

She swallowed hard and felt her airways clear, but continued to cough a few times and stick out her tongue.

“Ew, gross. Did I just swallow a bug?” she asked aloud. “What kind of stupid fly just decides to-” She shook her head. “Nasty.” She looked back down to her phone, eager to text her friends about the suicidal insect. At least it was something vaguely interesting.

Meanwhile, wrapped in the confines of a particularly tight and slimy passage, Dipper was having a panic attack.

What the-!? What just happened!? Where am- Did- did I just fly into Wendy’s MOUTH!? DID WENDY JUST EAT ME!? OH MAN! OH MAN!!

The shock was so great that it took a few seconds before he even noticed how cramped the space was, muscular walls pressing in from all sides, squeezing him tight. He had barely even begun to wiggle when he was just as suddenly expelled, spat out with a glorp and a splash into a pool of warm slop that smelled vaguely like cola and intestines.

“Oh! Ugh! Blech! Disgusting!” Dipper exclaimed. He was covered in the stuff before he knew it. It flooded his pants as he struggled to find footing, his shoes squishing into the uneven stomach floor, ladened with the semi-solid remains of whatever Wendy had scarfed down for breakfast. After several dives below the surface, he managed to blindly stumble his way over to a wall and pound against it with his tiny fists. “Wendy!! Can you hear me!? You- um- accidentally swallowed me! Can you let me out!? Please! …Hello?”

The stomach gurgled ominously around him in response, culminating a moment later in a nearby:

*urp*

“Okay, this is bad! This is bad!” Dipper blabbered to himself. “Think! You’ve been eaten alive by a giant Wendy. How do you escape? Think! Think! Okay, so the human digestive system is basically just a big tube, right? Everything comes in through the mouth and gets pushed along via peristalsis towards the-”

He stopped, blushing again as very recent images flooded his mind. A single thought took over his entire consciousness for just a moment: If he went out the back way, he’d get to see that again. Up close. Up very close.

“So, no great options here,” he told himself, ignoring his growing excitement. “I mean, the natural path is totally gross, but being vomit isn’t exactly much better. There’s probably no way out of this without her noticing- frankly I can’t even believe I got in here without her noticing- but-” he tripped over the word. “B-but, if I leave the way her body is pushing me, she can’t really get mad at me, right? Yeah, that makes sense,” he rationalized. “Besides, I mean, who am I to go against nature?” he posed rhetorically, overlooking his utterly unnatural size and situation.

With that decision out of the way, he set his mind to the task. Fighting back the anticipatory grin sneaking over his face, he felt along the rippling walls with his hands, following them around. He slipped and dropped face first into chyme a number of times, but eventually he found what he was looking for.

“This must be it,” he said, too giddy to be properly nervous, let alone logical. There was an area where the mushy ceiling came down low, and he’d managed to find there a section of the wall that felt less fold-y and more… pucker-y, which was a sensation he grimaced at, even in his current state of mind. But it didn’t change his mind. “Okay, now how do I-?”

*glorp*

A small wave of dissolving mush knocked into him from behind. His feet slipped right out from under him and he fell face first into the wall. Very literally into the wall. His head hit smack in the middle of the sphincter and squelched right through.

“Mmm!? Mmmm! Mmmhh!”

Smooth muscle surrounded him on all sides, like he was inside her throat again. He wiggled frantically for a moment, his feet sliding all over the place with nothing to grip. He pressed his fingers in against his face, trying to pry the opening wider. Ominous groans filled his tiny ears.

*blurp*… *grrrrrg*…*SHLORP*!

In a big, uncomfortable clench, the fleshy walls all pressed up against him at once. They rolled over him like a wave with a noisy squelch, and he shot through the opening with the grace of a flushed goldfish. He fell down a bend in the intestinal piping, splattering face-first around a second bend and then finally plowing to a halt through a load of goop and some mush that had the consistency of chewed waffles.

“Pt! Pff! Uhhh…. Well, that could have gone better,” he groaned. That sentence just about summed up his entire day. He tried to stand but bumped his head against the top of the squishy tube he’d been dumped into. “Welp, guess I’m crawling the rest of the way.” The ordeal had sapped away a little bit of his frankly irrational excitement, but the thought of his prize waiting on the other end- freedom, that is, and definitely not anything else- still gave him ample motivation. He began putting one hand and one knee in front of the other, sloshing his way through the hot slop with a sound and sensation he tried his best to ignore.

“Wait, how long are intestines again?”

SEVEN HOURS LATER…

*Intestines*

Dipper lay passed out somewhere deep in Wendy’s guts. He wasn’t dead- somehow. He’d eventually had a bit of a panic attack when he finally realized that digestion was a thing he should be worried about, not to mention asphyxiation. He’d done the math in his head and figured out that something of his current size, based on how long he’d already been in there, should have been dead and gone several hours ago. And in trying to figure out why he wasn’t dead, all he was able to come up with were more and more reasons why being shrunken down to this size should have been physically impossible in the first place, which didn’t exactly add to his sense of security.

All the time he’d spent freaking out and expecting himself to stop breathing had really drained his energy, and that wasn’t even considering the exertion of slogging his way through all the winding bends of Wendy’s insides. At some point, he’d noticed how soft the villi-lined walls were, and at some point after that he’d succumbed to exhaustion, a sleep deep enough that even the squeezing and slurping of his surroundings, and the jarring and jerking of Wendy’s movements didn’t wake him up.

Until they did.

Wendy Corduroy jumped and flopped dramatically onto her bed, finally back home.

“Whaaaaagh!” The dive was rough enough that it shook Dipper violently around his tiny tube, slapping him into slimy walls and bouncing him around as her body settled. “Ah! Where am I!? What’s happening!?” He tried to look around but everything was dark. Dark, squishy, hot and smelly, with slime coating his entire body and soaked into his clothes. “Oh, yeah…” he remembered. “I must still be inside Wendy… somewhere.”

He put a hand up against a slimy, soft wall, like he could somehow glean some hint of his location, but he didn’t have a clue. He was just… somewhere, lost and buried inside her. He imagined her belly, first from the normal, innocent perspective from which he’d seen it throughout the summer: just a toned, fit tummy tucked under her tank top. Then he imagined it like he’d seen it a few hours ago: a huge, towering pillar he’d had to scale like a mountaineer. He was in there, enveloped in her body, inside Wendy… He pushed a little against the wall and imagined a little bump forming in her skin, which he knew he was far too small to make.

“Man, long day,” Wendy breathed, alone in her room.

“You said it,” Dipper replied. He could hear her, of course. She was everywhere to him. But she couldn’t hear a peep from him. To her, he was nowhere. He could feel her shifting around from inside his nowhere, tossing and turning on her bed.

*Masturbation*

“And what is it with puberty? I mean, I get it, I’m a teenager now, but why do I have to be so horny?” she grumbled.

“Yeah, I- wait, what?” Dipper’s face turned red in the blackness. That had been an inner thought he probably shouldn’t have been privy to. Then again, he had just watched her using the bathroom a bit earlier, so it wasn’t like overhearing that little passing comment was any worse. He took a semi-deep breath, ignoring the smell, and let the moment pass.

*Hsss* “Ooo…”

The blush returned to Dipper’s face, a heat intense enough to give the intestines around him some competition. He’d felt the entirety of her belly clench around him just a bit as she’d made that sound, that sharp, flinching hiss. And then she had slowly relaxed when she’d made that… that moan.

“Oh geeze…” Dipper whimpered. A long, tense moment of awkward, frozen quiet surrounded him, filled with nothing but the usual background noise of the girl’s intestines which he’d come to phase out.

Then he noticed Wendy’s heartbeat getting louder. It thumped around him, a gentle pulse through the intestinal walls. He tried to deny it, but he knew what was happening. A new tightness, and a new heat, came to him, but in a very specific area. Very quickly, he felt a shameful pressure building between his legs, tenting up his slime-soaked pants.

*schlick*

The sound sent a shiver down his spine. It had been a quiet noise, soft and muffled, but close, and subtly visceral.

Was that…?

He sat in mortified silence for a moment until he heard it again.

*schlick*

Wet. Like someone licking their lips.

“Hmmm,” Wendy murmured softly, deep enough in her chest that it almost sounded like a groan.

*schlick*

*schlick*

Her heartbeat slowly picked up its pace. And now Dipper could feel his little heart pounding too, throbbing lightly between his legs. And without even meaning to, he began to picture it.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been the first time he’d… ‘theorized’ about his crush behaving like this. He’d grown up with a twin sister and a thirst for knowledge, he knew how things… worked, more or less. But now all that knowledge and those little bits of firsthand experience merged together in his mind with the vivid, recent sight of Wendy’s spread legs resting atop the toilet seat, flaming bush on full display.

He pictured a single finger disappearing into the scraggly red pubes, then two. Slowly. In and out, in and out.

*schlick*

*schlick*

*schlick*

The walls tensed and released in little jerks that matched her increasingly uneven little breaths, interspersed with little moans or grumbles, or occasionally words.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” she muttered quietly.

Dipper literally squeaked, cheeks burning. The sounds were coming through louder now. He could hear it all happening just a short distance away, every little noise helping to paint the picture in his mind of her fingers at work, rubbing and thrusting, touching in all the right ways in all the right places. The image in his mind was so vibrant and gripping that only one thing put up any contest for his attention: the literally growing need bulging up inside his pants.

The thought came once, twice, three four five times; he tried to resist. No! He couldn’t do that! He just couldn’t! Inside her body? It would be so wrong! It would be-

“Ooohh~”

Dipper squeaked again as a shutter rocked him. His member throbbed involuntarily. That sound, that adorable, hot, bothered, vulnerable little moan. Oh that was it! He just could not take it anymore! His hand moved like crashing water through a failed dam, shoving his pants out of the way and wrapping his member in a single, desperate motion. His fingers squelched with the slick contents of her gut, but at this point he would have gone dry.

“Ohhhh!” Dipper breathed in relief.

*schlick*
*fap*

*schlick*
*fap*

*schlick*
*fap*

The fantasy in his head took center stage again, fueled by the rising cacophony of hormones at work. Every sound and sensation became an image in his mind. He imagined every tightening of her belly as a subtle clench in her midriff, every sigh as a heave of her chest, every wet slip from down below as a new movement of her fingers or her wrist, delving into her most private depths, filling her with pleasure and sending her heart aflutter. Meanwhile his own hand moved on its own, subconsciously syncing up to her rhythm.

Her breathing grew rougher as her pulse and her thrusts grew faster. He could feel her shaking, trembling, hunching over to reach further. He pictured it all, her bush of red growing slick, her lip in her teeth, her flowing hair tossed out wildly around her.

Her entire lower body began clenching with every swipe of her fingers, pulsing around him, pressing his legs together around his hand around his rod. Faster! Harder! Deeper!

He could feel it coming! Closer and closer and closer and-

“Ahhhh~!”
“Ugh!”

…*pant*…*pant*…*pant*
…*pant*…*pant*…*pant*

Their overlapping breathing filled Dipper’s ears as their heartbeats gradually declined from crescendo. Body limp, he slipped his stiff fingers off his privates.

“Oh… wow…” he muttered; embarrassment having taken a back seat to exhilaration.

“Phew, I needed that,” he heard her say.

He chuckled weakly in response, agreeing without fully understanding. He felt guilt bubbling up from somewhere, knowing on some level that what he’d just done was far from right, but his satisfaction was too intense to be challenged at the moment. The thought of trying to ‘clean up’ crossed his mind, but he quickly realized that buried in the black of her guts, he couldn’t at all tell what hot, sticky slop was whose.

*guuurgle* went her belly, as her body relaxed around him. It gave him a little extra room, and he unscrunched himself so he was laying comfortably limp. As he glided down from his climax, he felt a deep weariness begin to fill him. He’d been shaken awake, but things were calming now, calm enough for him to quickly drift back off into sleep.

*Masturbation Over*

The next day…

Dipper wasn’t sure how many times he’d drifted in and out of sleep. The world was equally black in either state. He’d felt gravity shift a number of times, he’d heard Wendy’s voice again at some point, then Grunkle Stan’s some time later. It was actually one of his old, muffled, grunkly shouts that had finally stirred Dipper enough to actually begin waking up.

Even though it was all still completely dark, it felt… different. He had this odd feeling that came with waking up in a new place from where you’d fallen asleep. Instinctively, as he regained consciousness, he tried to regain his bearings. His eyes were useless. His ears told him Wendy was probably back at the Shack, but that didn’t help him much inside her guts. Then, for some reason, he tried to use his nose. This he instantly regretted.

*Disposal (Scat, Watersports, Internal)*

“UGH! Oh, man!” *cough* *cough* “What is that smell!? It’s like-” He froze and went silent. Not only did he know exactly what it smelled like, but he’d noticed something else: the thing he was laying on, it was solid. It wasn’t just a firm bit of muscle, it didn’t pulse with her heartbeat, it didn’t flex back into shape when he stopped putting pressure on it, it was compactable and moldable, it was…

*clank*

Dipper felt Wendy’s body drop, then he heard her sigh.

…*pppssssssssshh*

He heard a sound like a reservoir draining, like a faucet cranked open, like a distant waterfall crashing into a lake. He heard a quiet groan from Wendy’s innards as pressures shifted, and felt the faint vibrations through the walls, of liquids rushing by.

I guess she’s using the bathroom again… he thought, somewhat awkwardly. A vague memory of her getting up to pee in the night floated through his mind.

*phrt*!

The ‘ground’ below him shifted like an earthquake.

“Ah!” he yelped. Oh man, she’s using the bathroom! he realized.

*guuurgle*
*prrrrt*

“Whaaa-”

A firm clench of her pelvic muscles sent the walls of her colon crashing in on top of him, pressing him down into the brown beneath him, pressing the entire clump, and by extension the clump below that, and the log below that.

*pl-op*

“Ahh…” came the quiet release of her breath, and the release of her bowels as well. Dipper pushed himself up out of the muck as the walls receded and the pressure released.

“Please tell me that’s ov-”

*squelch*

The colon contracted again, flattening him a second time against the fecal floor, shoving the turds along and out the back door.

*plop* *plop* *splunk*

“Ugh…” Dipper wheezed. He’d been getting squeezed up, through and around the teen’s guts all night, but getting packed into her voiding rectum was feeling like a uniquely uncomfortable experience.

*clench*

Her body pressed and pounded him relentlessly, just like any other bowel movement on the way out. Packing him down, balling him up for an easy exit.

*plop* *ploop*… *splash*… *splunk*

Yup, I deserve this, he thought guiltily. Spying on her in the bathroom, during her ‘private time’, doing… THAT inside her body. Her guts constricted around him like an angry snake, interrupting even his thoughts. I should have tried to get her attention sooner. I should have shouted louder instead of just staring at her. All this just because I wanted to get a look at her-

*PFFRT*

There was a huge release of pressure and gas, a violent shove, a slick, slipping sensation, and then suddenly there was light.

*SPLASH*

*Inside Toilet (Scat, Watersports)*

And then there was cold.

Dipper made to shout, but he was under water. He scrambled his way to the surface, layers of brown sediment breaking off from his previously long-sedentary body as he moved. He rose above yellow-tinted waves with a little gasp and began panting.

He wiped his eyes and looked around. White, smooth, shadowed walls rose high on all sides. He looked up, and for a moment, he forgot to swim.

Wendy’s round, smooth cheeks hung above him. Bright light poured in through the gap in her legs and twinkled from the little space behind her tailbone, silhouetting her gorgeous rear like some sort of heavenly body. The light reflecting off the water and the bowl, as well as the light softly leaking in from around the edges of the toilet seat, gently illuminated her features. The little freckles dotting her skin, the long, flowing crevasse between her buns, running from the small of her back full around to her front, spread wide before his young, meager, eager eyes. The pucker he’d fallen from, pink with specks of brown, twitching delicately as her muscles worked within. And her crotch; the gently puffed lips of her privates, peppered generously with scraggly red pubes, ever so slightly spread. He could just barely see inside to the pink, smooth walls of her inner reaches, little drops of yellow still dangling from the crease where the two lips met.

Worth it… Dipper thought.

“Hrm-”

That pink pucker above pressed open, revealing another lump of brown. Skin and muscle stretched and flexed and pressed, her cheeks parting a touch wider. Dipper stared at it in a sort of awe.

He didn’t even realize he might be in danger until the turd started to fall directly toward him. He opened his mouth to scream but realized he didn’t have time, instead he took a deep breath and dove out of the way, barely dodging the dropped log.

*splash*

He turned as he surfaced, hearing the impact underwater, and watched the large lump of brown sink to the bottom of the bowl. He breathed.

That was clo-

Something smacked him in the face without warning, interrupting his thought and driving him back under the tinted waves. There was a rush of churning water in his ears, turbulent currents tossing him around. For a moment he was terrified that she might have flushed the toilet, but within a few seconds he resurfaced again, panting over the sound of what to his ears seemed like a waterfall. He looked.

Crashing down toward the edge of the bowl and sending waves throughout was a stream of golden yellow. It had sailed down from on high to pelt right into him where he’d been floating. He quickly followed it upward and once again set eyes on Wendy’s slit. Out came the flow from the littlest of holes, her bladder draining as she gave another little sigh of relief, practically inaudible over the noise.

The stream gradually petered out, glinting in the light, the arc dropping and thinning until it was just a few dribbles. He could see her booty twitching and clenching as she squeezed the last of it out and it pitter pattered into the water.

…Was that… it?

Wendy’s great rear shifted, one cheek briefly leaving the seat as she leaned over. And then in a burst of light, both cheeks departed, rising up into the air, but only enough to make a little room. Down came the teen’s hand, with a wad of white paper. Dipper could barely see through the rapidly shifting lights as she casually rubbed the towel front to back along the length of her crack and then let the paper fall.

A square of soiled white briefly eclipsed his view. He swam quickly out of the way and turned his gaze upward again, but the beautiful behind was gone. He felt a pang of inexorable sadness. For a split second, all he could see was the bathroom ceiling, until Wendy’s arm came into view, having just completed the task of pulling up her pants, now reaching over the bowl to-

Flush! Oh no! Dipper realized. Why hadn’t he said something sooner!? Why was he so busy staring at her butt!? He opened his mouth wide and took a big breath to shout.

“W-”
“Wendy!!”

A shout did indeed come, but not from him. It was much louder, more demanding, and ‘grunklier’ than anything that had ever left his mouth.

“Ugh,” Wendy groaned, faltering. “What!?” She turned toward the door.

“Get out here right now!” Stan demanded.

“Wha- Now? Why?”

“Because unless you want to be fired, you better have that sign out of my window in the next ten seconds!”

Wendy snickered as she remembered. During her boredom yesterday, she’d dug up a big piece of cardboard and made a crudely drawn sign which she’d stuck at the entrance to the gift shop:

THE REAL BIGGEST MYSTERY

Stan’s Nose = Grapefruit
????

Along with a sloppy picture of the man himself with an angry face and an over exaggerated nose.

“Nine! Eight!”

“Okay! Okay! Sheesh!”

Wendy rushed off, throwing the bathroom door open and bounding down the hall as the countdown continued and faded out of earshot.

“Phew… that was close…” Dipper breathed, relieved. Then he took a look around and realized: “Wait, how am I gonna get out of here?”

Epilogue

Minutes? Hours? Who could say. Certainly not Dipper, disposed of and left adrift on a raft of floating TP in the yellow ocean. He’d been left to ponder his place in the universe, his cosmic retribution, the outcome of his decisions and how they’d left him stranded in a bowl of dirty toilet water. He tried to feel bad. And he did. But honestly the image of Wendy’s ass burned forever into his brain was something he found very hard to regret.

*click* *step* *step* *step*

Dipper perked up at the sound of someone new entering the bathroom. His mind suddenly raced and his body scrambled. Who was it!? Was it Wendy again!? Stan!? Soos!? What would he say!? His sudden clamber accidentally destabilized his toilet paper raft and he suddenly found himself submerged into the previously calm waters.

He surfaced just in time to see a new form appear overhead. The unmistakable outline of a new rear, eclipsing the ceiling lights, reaching out over the oval sky and plonking itself down onto the seat without so much as a peek inside.

Legs quickly spread above him to reveal the signature smooth slope of a feminine crotch. A few thin, sparse hairs could be noticed glinting in the light. This butt left quite a bit more space than the last, and squinting up through the V-shaped framing of thighs, Dipper recognized a familiar sweater, and the underside of a very familiar face.

“Ma-!”

*PSSSSSSHHH*

“Ahhhhhhhhhh…”

Mabel sighed in relief as she relieved herself, melting over into a slouch. She really shouldn’t have drank that much Mabel Juice before bed, she almost hadn’t been able to make it to the bathroom!

“Mabel! Mabel stop! Stop!” The pines boy called, but his voice was nothing over the roar of his sister’s emptying bladder. The flow bursting free showered the entire bowl with spray and the main stream spun up fresh rapids that sent Dipper spiraling around the bowl amid waves of amber yellow, flailing to stay afloat, all the while his twin’s reclining rump hung over him, its owner blissfully unaware that she was currently dousing her brother in her urine.

He made several full laps of the bowl before the stream pouring forth from above began to wane, fading down gradually, like a lilting flower, until the current finally began to calm and the pink lips dripped their last.

“Ugh…” Dipper groaned, weakly flapping his arms.

“Phew! Well, I’ve learned my lesson!” Mabel announced to no one. She grabbed a bit of TP to wipe and tossed it in the bowl. She pulled her skirt back on and turned to flush, when a particular scent reached her nose. She scowled and glanced down.

“Ew! Who didn’t flush!?” she complained, noting the clumps of old brown that had definitely not been hers.

“Mabel…” her brother called weakly.

“Wha- DIPPER!? What are you-!?” She quickly processed what she was seeing, then just as quickly realized what she’d just done. She blushed as she shouted. “What are you doing in the toilet!?”

“Oh, you know, just drowning…” he grumbled in a daze.

“Ah! Okay, um…” she looked down at him, then around at the room. “Let me find something to get you out of there!” She rushed out of sight, and he could hear the frantic moving of several unseen items. “But you better have a good explanation!” she called.

Dipper had no explanation. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to say. But at the very least, he hoped when he tried to explain, his sister wouldn’t make him feel like… well, a piece of shit.

Originally Published: 27-Jan-2023