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The Scientific Method

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So it was that Ford set to work applying Al-Haythem’s method of scientific exploration. Most of his observation had already been done. First he had to identify a problem… something that needed testing. He was of course too close to the issue, pre-biased. But still, he thought he’d done fine at pin-pointing exactly what was bothering him.

The problem was clearly his sexual attraction to what amounted to a floating triangle with one eye and wearing a top hat and bowtie. Especially considering he didn’t think he’d ever felt sexual attraction to anyone of his own species. Why should he, then, be attracted to a deity instead of a person?

“Would it be more socially acceptable if I were attracted to, say… a being that looked like a beautiful woman?” He reasoned out loud. After a pause, he had to admit the answer was yes, and especially if she had defined breasts and large hips and a thin middle. Blond hair was preferable, apparently. Plenty of men, or even women, could find themselves attracted to such a creature. He looked through history books and made the mental note, though he thought he’d already known this, that gods and goddesses alike were often drawn to suit the tastes of the artist, sexually. But then, Bill Cipher was not a god, actually. He called himself… a muse. Muses returned basically the same results as goddesses. “So, therein lies the issue.” He concluded. He took from his desk an entirely new journal to dedicate to the problem and, instead of his own hand mark, he created a triangle insignia for it. It was a simple sketch of Bill, with the eye in place, but no top-hat, just his limbs resting at the bottom as he’d often seen Bill do when frustrated or annoyed with something. Or tired, perhaps. He looked at it for a long time, realising that he chose this position because he thought it adorable.

Unfortunately, his woes hadn’t stopped with Bill’s exploration, but rather increased in intensity and frequency. He found himself content to satisfy his cravings every night, rather than once a month or once a week, as he had before. He noted in his journal the increase, along with a dream log.

Generally his need for consummation stemmed from two things. Either he had been in the midst of a detailed dream, which were becoming more and more frequent, or he had spent some time in the day satisfying his intellect with something or another related to Bill. Perhaps he spent more time in his study, surrounded by art of Bill, some of which he had even done himself. Perhaps he had been pouring over his notes, and thinking of things Bill had taught him. Or, perhaps he had simply entertained a daydream about his mentor, which usually turned heated. Much of his currant daydreams involved Bill possessing him while Ford was still inside his body, and bringing him to completion where Ford could feel it. This particular fantasy had ended in climax every time without fail, and he wasn’t sure why. It usually involved a test tube.

After Bill’s previous possession, he thought he’d be rather turned off the idea, but his interest only grew. He wanted Bill to possess him again and again. He noted in his journal that this might be a replacement for the sexual act of penetration. It left a bad taste in his mouth, feeling like a serial killer who couldn’t achieve erection and stabbed their victims instead. Then he realized he would be the one being stabbed in that particular comparison, and thought of the glass tube shattering inside of him. No, no… He hadn’t been badly injured. Bill was careless, often. He simply didn’t understand physical forms. If Ford could just teach him a little self-restraint, and perhaps provide the tool he had been craving in the first place…

Not forty-eight hours had passed between that moment and his next meeting with Bill, and the muse was forthcoming this time. As soon as Ford fell asleep and drifted into his mindscape, he saw that Bill had already poured tea and set up the board for Chess. Stanford summoned all the confidence he possessed for calculations and quantum physics and tried to put it into his general and social demeanour. It had never worked before but, hey… Bill did like him for his brain.

“WELL, WELL, WELL,” The entity greeted. “Here to take me up on my last OFFER, Sixer?”

“I’m not ready for my explorations into this matter yet.” Ford said simply, trying to keep his cool as Bill floated opposite of him at the chessboard. He made the first move. Bill studied the board.

“Oh? And why is that? Not INSPIRED? Have I lost my TOUCH?” He moved the piece without even looking at it.

“No, no, of course not.” Ford replied, feeling intensely embarrassed. Bill had done more than enough to his body to inspire. “But I feel I misunderstood the previous problem and I’m considering some possibilities.”

“You’re not just mad about the glass?” Bill asked shrewdly, his voice a few octaves lower and quieter than usual.

Ford sighed. “No.” He said. He moved his chess piece. “But I would appreciate some gentleness. In.. In exchange, I think you will like what’s in the top drawer in my room. I made it for you, last night.” Bill’s eye flickered open and he studied Ford, who blushed “That is.. if you still want… you made a remark about-“

Bill laughed. “Oh, Fordsie, you’re KILLING me! Of COURSE I’m gonna check the drawer- thanks for the HINT! I don’t suppose you could be a little LESS SUBTLE” He made his chess move casually.

Ford stared at the board for a while before asking “Is… is that the only kind of possession there is, Bill?”

“This ain’t 31 Flavours.”

“No, I just wondered… is there any way for two souls to inhabit the vessel at one time?” Stanford tried not to shiver as Bill looked at him again for a long time. He couldn’t tell what Bill was thinking, which made him nervous. But he thought he knew enough to conclude that he had Bill’s attention, at the very least. After a while Bill said “I’ll look into that, IQ. In the meantime, what are YOU gonna do to ME?”

“I’m not sure yet… I haven’t had much time to tackle the problem.”

“You’re thinking too much, Sixer.” Bill said, and it was almost a warning.

“I just want to make sure-“

“I SAID you’re thinking too much.”

Then Ford had opened his eyes, and he was awake. Ford had expected to re-enter that space the next evening, and he spent the day working on a frame for the portal he was making. But there was nothing that night. The next day he convinced himself to go further into the spaceship laying at under Gravity Falls. It was a creepy place, and there was a chasm he couldn’t get past. So the next day, Ford invented a magnet gun that would allow him to stick to the wall of the chasm and prevent a fall. He’d have to see what was down there, of course. Perhaps the crew was even still alive! He thought of asking Bill, and found it hurt to think about him.

A few more days passed after that, and he was gripped with fear and anxiousness more and more every day, sure he had upset his precious muse. After the first few days he panicked. He put all of his resources into his hypothesis. He couldn’t risk his friend, his muse, his happiness, for anything. It was time to form a hypothesis, and a plan.

Soon Ford fell into a deeper depression than he’d ever felt. He had never realized how intensely he relied on Bill for companionship, approval, and touch. He missed Bill running fingers through his hair- even tried to simulate it for himself. It didn’t feel the same, but at the very least it kickstarted his imagination and he was able to finish himself to the subsequent fantasies. Again, with the test tube. Was he attracted to danger? Once he even though about trying it… No, too dangerous. Perhaps it was Bill’s casual use of it that-

More time, more worries. Perhaps trying that machine would make him feel more fullfilled… No, no. It was for Bill. He wanted Bill to be the first to use it, preferably with Ford inside with him…

More time, more worries. He had his hypothesis. He was ready. So where was Bill? Had he insulted him so deeply?

More time, more worries. He felt like punishing himself. How could he have treated Bill this way? How angry was he? Was he gone forever- Ford chocked on the thought.

Unable to concentrate on work, Ford resigned his days to the study of Bill’s features, drawing and touching the works before him in reverence. Finally, in desperation, he even once prayed to Bill, down on his knees, as if his muse could hear him. He begged for forgiveness. Then he fell asleep sobbing at his desk. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried so profusely.

Thankfully, it seemed the end of his dread. This time when he woke up, it was in his mind’s place.

“Hiya there, IQ!” Bill was there, cheerfully radiating his light. He did a finger gun in Ford’s direction as he greeted him.

“Bill!” Ford didn’t wait to take his dreamscape in, though it felt like an eternity since he had been there. He leapt up to wrap his arms around Bill, and stopped short. He wasn’t sure if his touch was welcome to Bill. When the muse sighed, rolled his eye, and crossed his arms, he let his own hands drop. But it turned out to be the opposite of what Bill wanted.

“SHEESH!” He slapped one hand over his closed eye “You’re still HUNG UP about this, Sixer? TOUCH me already!” Ford embraced Bill to his chest, the being making a muffled “umph,” that sounded surprised. Then Ford ran one hand gently down the back of Bill’s shape, and Bill hummed, his eye flickering shut on it’s own. They stayed like that for a while, Stanford enjoying the little noises that Bill was making. After a minute or two, he realized his body was reacting to them- or his mind? Something felt… turned on.

He let go reluctantly. “You’ve got a weird idea of FOREPLAY, Brainiac.” Bill said simply.

“Bill, I’m so sorry-“

“Sorry? About what?” Bill demanded, getting impatient already.

“Isn’t that… why you returned? You heard…?” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Bill seemed to catch on. He laughed as his eye suddenly displayed a picture of Ford kneeling.

“WOW, SIXER! Did you actually PRAY to me? Again, I’m FLATTERED, but you know I can’t actually HEAR you, right?” That wasn’t entirely true, but Ford didn’t need to know that.

“You were gone so long…” Ford said.

“Hey, calm DOWN. It’s not like it’s easy to project myself here. I’m a BUSY GUY.” Bill said, splaying his arms animately.

“I thought… our last meeting, you seemed so…angry with me.”

“Common, Fordsie, I can’t praise you constantly.” Bill said blandly, his eyelid and arms drooping. Ford didn’t know what to say to this, so silence fell for a few minutes. Bill took that as his cue to serve some tea. When Ford took it, he said “How’s our little PET PROJECT?” Ford’s heart leapt. He hadn’t worked on the portal in over a week.

After too long a silence, he said “I’m sorry, Bill… I don’t know what’s come over me. I just can’t concentrate on anything…”

“You haven’t worked on it, have you?”

“No.” Ford admitted, completely ashamed.

Bill stole himself. He should have kept on Ford harder after their last meeting. Of course. Humans were so governed by their emotions. Apparently his manipulation had had the opposite affect. Rather than pour himself into work to stop thinking about Bill, the idiot had decided to drown in his misery. If Ford felt lusty and desperate and rejected, he wasn’t going to concentrate on the important things. Then again, if he felt loved and appreciated… it wasn’t hard to work out. He really had been busy, though. Getting pissy with Stanford wasn't going to fix the issue, obviously, so Bill withheld his own emotions. He needed to give more before he could receive. He laughed again.

“Fordsie, FORDSIE, I can’t BELIEVE your species sometimes. Here we are making HISTORY and all you can think about is your dripping COCK!” He teased. “Tell me you AT LEAST worked on that part.”

“I have!” Ford said in defence. Perfect. All’s well that leads to the same end. “I’ve formulated a hypothesis as well-“ A what? “And I’m ready for experimentation.”

Bill tried not to role his eye at this. “DO TELL.” He invited, hoping Ford would feel clever and appreciated if he praised his idea.

“The hypothesis is…” Ford took a deep breath, as if this was difficult for him to say “I’m attracted to odd things, and the odder the better. I mean, the odder, relatively speaking. Strange for my species.”

“I think I know which way THIS one’s going to test.” Bill mumbled. “I’m guess you’re got a PROGRAM for me to follow, then.”

Though it wasn’t technically a question, Ford smiled and said “No!” Bill’s eye morphed into something that Ford had always thought was his way of smiling.

“Well, well, well…” He said, and Ford knew by tone that he had interpreted the expression correctly. “So UNLIKE you, Fordsie.”

“Yes, I know.” Ford said matter-of-factly, “But there is one thing I would request that you do for me.”

“And what’s that?” Bill asked, honestly curious this time.

“As we go along, you could help me test this theory by doing increasingly atypical things.”

“You didn’t like my TEST TUBE idea so much.”

“Didn’t I?” Ford asked, and he was asking himself as much as Bill. “It’s been a reoccurring theme in my subconscious since then. It was a moment of panic for me, but afterwards I have to admit that I felt sated like I never had before, and since then my dreams have always involved that item. Frequently it slips into waking fantasies- I even…” He stopped, blushing. He’d been rambling as he often did about interesting topics, and had almost admitted that he had wanted to try the same thing for himself. But he hadn’t have the nerve to do it.

“GO ON.” Bill said, his frame enlarging to engulf Ford in shadow.

“I even… I even wanted to try it once or twice.”


Bill seemed interested. Ford wondered if this topic was sexually affecting him. “I couldn’t, Bill…”

“HMMMMM. You got yourself a DEAL, Sixer!” Bill said suddenly, “But I’m WARNING YOU, “ he said teasingly “I can get WEIRD.”

“Perfect!” Stanford said with gusto. He was feeling much more confident about this. Lists and set formulas always made him feel at ease. This was measurable, unlike his erratic behaviour of late. Bill returned to his usual size and floated forward so he was right in front of Stanford.

“Go on, then.” He invited. “Show me the HUMAN way.”

Ford urged his hands not to shake as he reached out and plucked the triangle from the air. Bill moved with his touch, not resisting, but still floating. He was actually teasing Ford, sure this nerd didn’t even know how to get started, when suddenly he felt two thumbs tracing his sides upwards. He closed his eye, just feeling the sensation of Ford’s mind pressing in on him- that’s all it was, but it was as sensual and as real to them both as if Bill could step through that portal right away. Now THAT thought got Bill going.

Bill’s peers had never felt any reason to touch each other this way. It didn’t lead to procreation and they were few and far between, and didn’t get along well in the first place. Sexual touch wasn’t even experienced by most species- in any case, it was usually in, out, and shake hands- see you next time, perhaps… maybe… maybe not. Occasionally your lover might try to eat you. Even most animals did it this way, minus the hand shaking (and not always minus the eating). On Ford’s own planet, only apes did this for the sheer fun of it in great numbers, and not always as an instinct either. But Bill had to admit there was something to this… he liked weird things, just like he knew Ford liked weird things (even if he didn’t really know it yet). And this was weird for him. As weird as it got.

He let Ford explore what amounted to his body for a while, fingers and thumbs examining him, followed by a hesitant mouth, moving up one side and down the other. He moaned, not at all on purpose, when Ford licked him up the side he had finished kissing. “Did that… feel good?” Ford asked uncertainly.

“Isn’t that what ‘mmmm’ means to your species?” Bill asked. Ford didn’t answer, but ran his tongue down the other side, then across the bottom. Each was more sensational than the last. He went for the brick pattern next, and it was underwhelming. “That’s not HALF as good as the other thing.” He complained. No sense dragging Ford out on something he wasn’t into.

“Oh, thank you. That’s very helpful.” Ford replied, and Bill barely stopped himself from doing the equivalent to face-palming.

But after that Ford’s tongue and lips returned to caressing the sides. He went up one limb and sucked on Bill’s fingers one by one. Bill opened his eye and studied Ford as he did this. “Not LIGHTING YOUR FIRE, huh?” He asked.

“You can tell?”

“I can feel.” Bill shrugged by holding both hands up.

“Actually I like your hands, so I’m a little surprised.” Ford said quietly.

Bill’s eye went half-lidded and he put both hands into Ford’s hair. He took a deep breath and sighed it out at the sensation, his eyes closing. On one hand, Bill was thinking he’d hardly done anything at all. On the other hand, Ford’s reaction was lovely to look at. He was somewhat connected to Ford’s body here as well, deep within his mind, nestled inside. He was feeling something from that, and now it was time to “test” Ford’s hypothesis. Or rather, to prove it. He knew the answer already.

Ford opened his eyes when three extra sets of hands suddenly sprouted and began to pet him. One of the pairs started to undo his buttons on his coat while another ran up it and played with his nipples. Ford’s skin erupted with goosebumps and he moaned. He noticed that Bill wasn’t in his arms anymore, but that he was in Bill’s arms. Bill had him turned horizontally, supported by his hands as more and more joined them, spilling out from Bill’s body. He felt his pants and coat being removed and reached up to hold onto something, anything- the support his body needed physically in order to mentally processes the information. He was met by Bill’s hands, and as he was stripped naked they held each other’s hands and Ford licked Bill up the side again.

“ECIN!” Bill said slowly, his eyelid drooping. Then it changed to a pair of lips “How about a KISS, Sixer?” Without waiting for a response, he pulled Ford closer and moved the lips over Ford’s human pair. It was Ford’s turn to close his eyes in bliss, even more so as Bill moved down his body, leaving a wet trail of… it wasn’t spit, it was black… but something. Something that, when left behind, was hot to the touch for several minutes. Ford had hardly any composure by the time his nipples were covered with the hot tar. He moaned loudly and reached for his own dripping erection without thinking. Bill smacked his hand.


“Ah, ah, ah!” Bill chided.

“I’m sorry- it’s torture!”

“How’s your hypothesis holding up, Fordsie?” Bill asked incidentally, thinking there was no greater compliment than being told he was torturing him. Ford really knew just what to say.

Ford tried to remember- what was his hypothesis? Everything was disjointed and his mindscape was cracking. He felt disoriented, but the pleasure was unbearably good. He’d certainly never felt this way, even at his apex! After a few minutes he was able to piece together enough brain cells to remember what he was testing for. Surely it was holding true? This was the strangest thing he’d ever done, and he was dripping, dripping. Had he ever dripped before? He did’t think so, but thinking was becoming more and more difficult. “It s-seems to- to… hold water…”

“OH?” Bill asked. Everything turned sinisterly black and yellow, with black being the dominant color, including Bill. Then it seemed the being opened up and something so dark it was almost unseen was furling out. Bill switched to red, then back to yellow, but the change was permanent. He was now accompanied by several tentacles, numbering perhaps in the thirties and about an inch thick each, though very long. There was a very brief stab of terror, then and equally strong need. Ford had no idea where the idea had come from, but suddenly he wanted one of them. He wanted to lick one, just to see if it felt good. He wanted even more than that, but his mind wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Bill didn’t stop to ask, though.

True to his word to keep getting stranger, he grasped Ford with several tentacles and flipped him upside down. He lost no time stuffing Ford’s mouth with one, which, to Ford’s surprise, had a tongue inside of it. Before Bill could even get to the good stuff, Ford was coming. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, the mindscape blinked “NO, you can’t WAKE UP now!” Bill scolded, though it wouldn’t make any difference. The combination of tiny hands dancing up and down his body while one of these- these things licked the roof of his mouth while stuffing him was simply too much. He felt overstimulated and under-stimulated at the same time. Never had Ford come without touching himself, though Stanley used to brag that he could to it, much to Stanford’s chagrin. He bucked in the air, hips thrusting for contact with something, ANYTHING. He moaned and sputtered around the tentacle in his mouth, and somehow thinking of it was a tentacle was so much BETTER than thinking of it was a penis.


Bill’s tentacle switched wildly and the tongue suddenly loaded Ford’s mouth with black goo. Ciphers poured into the mindscape and Bill had to hold back, to his utter astonishment, from seeping everywhere. “Ho, staht yllautca- HAOW, RERXIS, PU DLOH! STAHT-“ A brief pause as Bill pulled out of Ford’s mouth, “ruoy eugnot! Drofnats! Okay, enough! ENOUGH!” he yelled mostly at himself to calm down “WOAH! Sixer! That was quiet a ride! But I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Bill…” Ford barely managed. His body was on fire, no better! He felt nothing but pure bliss. He could feel ever hair follicle on his body. He couldn’t see anything at all but stars and lightning. For the first time in his life he was completely sure that he’d felt an orgasm. It was just as good, no better, no MUCH BETTER than anyone had ever described.

He couldn’t feel anything but pleasure washing over him, until finally he opened his eyes and realized Bill had pinned him down on a bed of books and journals. “Bill-“ he tried, but it was hardly more than a whisper.

“You almost GOT ME, THERE, Brainiac. But don’t worry, there’s plenty more where THAT came from, pun intended!” He cackled madly again, then Ford felt wet tongues on every visible part of his body. He screamed, not sure if he was feeling pleasure or pain. His cock was soft but everything felt too good in the whole vicinity. Then Bill said “In we GO!” and pushed inside of him. It hurt for only a few seconds, then the pleasure hit. Soon he was keening and thrusting toward Bill, unable to keep the rhythm as Bill filled him with ecstasy. Another, fresh tentacle thrust into his mouth and he sucked on it greedily as Bill screamed ciphers, his whole body glitching. The mindscape was plunged into darkness, except the figure of Bill, which was emitting it’s own light. But Ford’s eyes were tight shut, his mouth and tongue working on the tendril and his body feeling nothing but electricity. This time when he came he began to sob- the feeling was so overpowering he felt like he passed out.

Then he felt Bill shaking him “Hey, there, don’t LOOSE CONSCIOUSNESS. You’re already unconscious and I’m not sure I want you THAT knocked out!” Ford shivered with pleasure and managed to focus his eyes. It was clear that Bill had been spurting black liquid everywhere, and that thought alone made his moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He didn’t remember anything else until the morning.