Silence

Silence.
Gravity Falls was a relatively sleepy little town at the best of times, but if you were to go off the beaten track by even  a few yards, you could find yourself completely  isolated from the outside world.
Here, the sound of trucks and cars from the road were muted into a mere whooshing sound, not unlike leaves being swept away by a breeze, and birds made minute whistles and chirrups, all but silenced by the distance.
Of late, she'd taken to using this particular little area as a thinking spot, a secret place to get her head straight on the various different threats and oddities that the town seemed to brimming with.
She lay back on the long, hollow log and traced her fingers along the moss that covered it, taking some simple pleasure in how soft it felt, while letting the gentle breeze wash away all her worries, like the tide on the beach slowly erodes the cliffs.
She closed her eyes; this was her little sanctuary, away from everybody and everything.
And like that she remained, for some twenty or so minutes, until a new sound permeated the air, mixing with the gentle sounds of nature.
A sound she remembered from home.
She opened her eyes and took a look around to try and work out where the sound was coming from, but the trees muffled it into indistinction, so she couldn't pinpoint it to anywhere more specific than “towards the left.”
The sound itself was, at this distance, a quiet hiss, but it had an irregular quality to it, becoming higher or lower at random, until it got close enough for her to pick out individual sounds within the overall hissing sound and eventually identify it.
A phone: an MP3 of what appeared to be classical music, played through the pitifully small speaker of a phone.
And, just as the figure emerged from the trees, she managed to put a name to the tune: Beethoven's ninth symphony, specifically the fourth movement.
But the music did not match the person who held the phone.
The hoop earrings were gone and her hair was loose, the dark eye shadow was nowhere to be seen and the smirk was mysteriously absent, but it was her none the less.
All of a sudden, Mabel felt outraged- how dare she interrupt her quiet time! How dare she play her music and break the perfect harmony around her! How dare she even not look like a total bitch- the very fact that she wasn't the object she had come to despise so much was in itself insulting.
Pacifica looked up from her phone and smiled to her, turning the music down, before turning her phone off altogether and walking over to sit beside her on the log.
Now Mabel found herself feeling confused; this wasn't the Pacifica she knew and hated, this was an entirely different girl, she'd steeled herself for a torrent of spiteful remarks but she hadn't so much as shot her a glare.
“Hi Mabel” she said, her sharp and abrasive accent now miraculously mellowed, she followed it up with a brief gesture, as if to prompt her.
“Umm...” Mabel searched through her mind to find the most appropriate response, before settling on a simple “hi” back.
Something felt amiss here, her Mabel senses were tingling, that or she'd been lying down in a funny position.


Casually, Pacifica kicked off her boots, revealing delicate little feet with immaculate nails, varnished lilac to match her jacket, before sidling a little closer to her, not so much as she would notice, but enough to give off the right vibes.
Mabel gave her a look of cautious allegiance, extending her hand slowly, half expecting this to all be some elaborate kind of joke, and that Pacifica would just sink another dagger-like insult into her heart the moment she dropped her guard, but she didn't, instead, she turned around and took her hand inbetween hers, smiling back.
There it was again, something inside her made Mabel want to get away as soon as possible, but Pacifica hadn't done anything wrong.
She shuffled closer still, putting an arm around her waist, like they'd been friends for some time, but now it was clear; something was horribly wrong.
She had the same look in her eye as she did when she humiliated her infront of the whole town, a little smirk rising by the side of her mouth, that little chuckle, all of it- immediately, Mabel recoiled from her, but in doing so, she pulled Pacifica down on to her.
Her ruse exposed, Pacifica clamped her hands around Mabel's shoulders and leaned down, closing her eyes gently before she planted a delicate kiss on her lips.
What the hell was she doing?
Mabel spluttered, stunned by what had just happened, but by then, Pacifica had already pulled herself tighter to her, this time forcing their lips together and kissing her vigorously, despite her protests.
When she broke away, she had a ravenous expression, like a shark after the first hint of blood in the water.
With almost frantic movement, she clamped her hands on to Mabel's chest, pushing her down and fondling what little there was available- whether it was all just baggy sweater or whether there was some actual growth there didn't matter, just the act of groping at her adversary thrilled her like nothing she had experienced before.
Mabel squirmed and squealed, but somehow it made her feel even better- she was completely at her mercy, the feeling of superiority made her lose all her senses.
Mabel was her toy, a mere plaything now, and good lord how she wanted to play.
For a second, Pacifica ceased her assault and reached for her own top, practically tearing it off in her frenzy and tossing it away to reveal her budding bosom, before she lunged for her neck, like she was going to strangle her, grabbing her sweater by the neck-hole and yanking at it with all her strength, until the wool gave way and her own bare body was exposed.
Again, she ravaged her, digging her nails into her skin, clawing at her before kissing her again, hungrily, completely unable to control herself and deaf to her cries.
Pacifica reached for her trousers, undoing the buttons as she locked lips- she couldn't take it any more, she needed to take this to another level.
In seconds she'd got her trousers off and shifted her position, so that she was resting on top of Mabel's soft little belly, one hand on her chest, preventing her from moving, the other hand down her panties, making quick, “come hither” motions on her most sensitive of areas and gasping as she did so.
Mabel's writhing and thrashing only made it feel better, until she had to stop herself or else make a mess of her underwear, instead she threw them away, rubbing her vagina against Mabel's body and eventually moving up and grabbing her by the back of the head before practically smothering her in her sopping wet genitals
“Does it smell good, Mabel?” She whispered, hoarse from the pleasure, “does it taste good? Does it taste like submission?”
She pulled harder, forcing Mabel to lick her and squealing from the sudden rush, Like some kind of current had been passed through her.
She could feel her braces catching on the little hood and giving sharp, erratic spasms of pleasure, while Mabel's tongue worked away at her clitoris, causing her to buck and gasp, twist and shiver until, in one single moment, she felt her whole body shake.
She screamed as the fluid gushed out of her, the sounds of Mabel spluttering forcing yet more powerful reactions that rocked her body in ecstasy, until she physically had no more to give, whereupon, she flopped back, panting as she recovered from the climax.
As for Mabel, she couldn't tell what fluids on her face were tears or her juices.
“Consider yourself my bitch from now on” she said, admiring her handiwork.
“y... y-y-y-yes, pa-p-paac...” Mabel stammered, utterly unable to form the words.
Pacifica smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately “good, “ she whispered in her ear, “you'll do well to remember that.”