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Fordsy is lying on the ground unconscious, almost dead. It took, what, just a few lacerations, a few flames that burned his hair and marked his body, and now he is dying. Honestly, humans are so fragile. Bill thinks he does it on purpose to frustrate him.
But this time Bill won’t let him escape, even through death.
Bill takes Ford’s face in his hands. If the situation were not so upsetting, he would laugh at what it reminds him of: those big innocent eyes full of love and faith, fixed on him, thoughts that always turn to him...
At least that last part hasn't changed.
He uses his stolen dominion over time to bring Ford's body back to a more presentable state, though subtly enough to leave Ford with most of his memories.
"Well, Fordsy, aren’t I always generous with you?" he whispers, stroking his hair. "You could be a little more grateful."
He didn't think Ford would be able to hear it, let alone react, but he hears what sounds like a groan of relief, or maybe pleasure. Humans hate pain so much that they like when it stops, and like it even more when you heal them. They have no taste!
On the other hand, this groan is so honest, so spontaneous; Bill has the impression that Ford is more open to him now than he was to all their conversations and questions since he found him. This awakens in him unexpected but pleasant feelings. Alongside some small ideas.
Perhaps it is time to move on, in case a gentler method is more effective. Anyway, even torture is boring when it lasts too long.
So he gently takes Sixer between his hands. The human is now physically healed but still passed out, infinitely vulnerable. Bill rocks him and hums a melody in his ear, softly, in a language that no one understands except him.
Let’s make one thing clear: Bill is the master of the Mindscape. The mind of Stanford Pines is closed to him only temporarily, following scandalous cheating involving a metal plate. He usually doesn't need to use hypnosis— a clumsy technique, created by humans incapable of anything better.
But that doesn't mean he won't be the best there is, if he bothers to try.
The repetitive rhythm of his song enters Ford's ears, sinks into his brain, when nothing else passes. Any song would do, but for added irony, this is a song once sung to little children in Bill’s world, one that talks about the wisdom of submitting to benevolent authority.
Soon, Ford breathes to the rhythm of its melody, to the motion of Bill’s gentle rocking.
"You like my voice." he whispers. It is simple for him to sing and speak at the same time. "You like the touch of my hands. They deliver you from your suffering. Nod your head to agree."
Ford nods limply, a big smile on his face.
"You like to obey my voice. You like answering my questions. You will always respond with the truth. It makes you feel good."
Ford once more agrees, letting out a moan.
"Do you know who you are?" Bill asks.
In the half-sleep state he is in, Ford seems to hesitate, nodding his head. A thin trickle of saliva runs down his cheek. "Stanford... Pines..."
"You’re right!" Bill exclaims. "But I'm going to call you Fordsy. You like it better. Do you know where you are, Fordsy?"
"No," Ford answers sluggishly. A happy smile split his mouth in two. As Bill watches with satisfaction, he sees the human's erection, firm against his thigh. That’s unplanned, but why not indulge himself? It's entertaining, that some things don't change.
"It doesn’t matter," he says. "You don't have to know. Do you know who I am?"
"No." Ford is growing restless, as if he realizes that he should know, that not knowing is abnormal.
"Calm down," Bill whispers. "Listen to my voice, Fordsy. Don't fret about anything. You don't have to know me, only obey me. Do you know what you want?"
"No..." the human replies, hesitant. Bill would have thought he had a guess, seeing how his body reacted. But he has calmed down, fallen back into a placid, untroubled trance, limbs dangling like a rag doll.
"You forgot and that’s sad, isn’t it? You want to be mine. You want to be my slave. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Ford moans. Oh, it's so nice to hear. Bill had forgotten.
"Open your eyes, and look at me." That should be enough.
Ford opens his eyes. He doesn’t tremble, doesn’t seem to recognize him at all, displaying neither fear nor surprise.
"Fordsy." He hesitates to introduce himself. He should be certain of his grip, so why is he afraid that his name will break the trance? But he supposes that for this little toy of his, that name has a particular force. It’s fine. He will do without.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You," he answers without hesitation.
"Kiss me," he says, extending Ford his fingertips.
He barely feels the result, but he can appreciate the sight of the human, his eager mouth and pliable tongue, his eyes that no longer see, lost in their ecstasy.
"Give me the equation," he says in a hard voice. He listens with an eager ear.
And Ford begins to sputter an advanced quantum physics equation that governs the movement between dimensions.
Part of Bill understands what is happening to him. He doesn't even know where he is, how would he know which equation is in question? But this part is easily suppressed by the part that wants to punish him. If Bill wasn’t so big, he would slap Ford.
"I am very disappointed in you," he says in an icy, echoing voice. Ford looks more hurt than if he had been hit. Good.
"What equation?" Ford asks, gasping. "My memories... I don't know... what does the one I just gave do?"
"The equation that governs Gravity Falls’ weirdness magnetism!" he exclaims. "Give it to me now!"
"Gravity Falls?" Ford asks, and Bill has no doubt that his confusion is sincere. He recognizes this ashamed look, the image of an inadequate being who prays to be loved despite that.
And the worst part is that Bill doesn't think Ford can remember the equation. He would need to be made to understand, either why he is a prisoner in Gravity Falls, or how he met Bill. It would be easy to send Ford’s mind to the moment just before his betrayal, but at that time, Ford did not know the answer to his question. Then he discovered it. Ford kept thinking about Gravity Falls. Even though he thought he would never come back, he still...
But back to the interrogation, Bill reminds himself. Letting Ford remember the truth is more practical.
"It's fine, it's fine..." he whispers, cradling him. "I forgive you this time. I'll help you remember. You just have to make an effort."
He lifts Ford up, places him right in front of his huge eye, where a very slow spiral spins.
"Do you want to continue to serve and obey me as long as you exist?"
"Yes."
"Promise me, Fordsy."
"I promise you."
"And I promise you that your body will overflow with pleasure, so long as you don't resist me. What do you feel for me?"
Ford hesitates. "I belong to you."
"Until the end of time."
"Until the end of time," Ford immediately promises.
This should be good enough. It isn't, Bill discovers. Which is not a problem, because he, Bill Cipher, can have anything he wants.
"You're in love with me," he says. "You love me so much you’d do anything for me. You would tear your heart out for me. Do you like that?"
"Yes..." Ford moaned again. It seems that some orders please him more than others.
"I'm going to count to three," he says. "When you wake up you will remember your past and you will remember your situation. You will know what equation I am talking about. You will forget what I told you while you were in a trance. But your feelings for me won't change. You don't want them to change, do you?"
"No. No..." Ford whispers. And the peace he felt under the effect of hypnosis seems to have become a continuous ecstasy.
"You can rut against me if you want," Bill says. Ford does not hesitate for a second, and grabs one of his fingers, writhing his pelvis against it.
Bill just solemnly counts one, two, three.
Ford screams. His expression returns to the horror that Bill loves so much when he discovers what he is doing. He stops immediately, but his cock remains hard in his pants.
"Fordsy!" Bill exclaims. He enjoys the spectacle of Ford biting his lip, trying to hide the thrill of pleasure that this nickname gives him now. "I’m happy to see you again!"
"Bill Cipher! What was that?" He fights to keep a defiant tone. "What did you do to me?"
"Oh, it will be revealed soon enough. In the meantime, drop your pants and start rubbing against me again."
"No!" But Ford's eyes widen in horror when he sees that he cannot refuse, that he humps Bill’s finger like a dog. Yes, that's exactly why Bill asked for this, not just because he missed seeing his little human humiliate himself in front of him as humans do best.
"Do you love me?" Bill asks. "Tell me the truth."
Ford tries to bite his tongue, but his body betrays him. He utters a "yes" that is almost a sob.
"Do you have any idea why?"
"You did something to me, Bill!" he exclaims between gasps. A cry of pleasure takes him, perhaps from his lecherous loins, perhaps from the simple joy he feels in telling him the truth. Sometimes Bill is too nice.
"Oooh, it looks like you're still able to think. A real genius. I certainly did something to you, Fordsy." The friction of Ford's groin against his finger makes him shiver throughout his entire newly physical body. "Do you remember when you promised yourself to me forever?"
Not the one that just arrived, that he forgot, but the time before that.
"Yes," Ford moans.
"You love flattery so much. You love it so much when I remind you how smart you are. Do you remember when you dreamed that I opened your head to lick your brain, your big delicious brain, and you came in your pants?"
"Yes." Bill almost wants him to do something other than slavishly answer him, like complain again. Later.
"I will give you even more pleasure again. But first, give me the equation."
Ford sobs as he masturbates against Bill’s hand.
"No," he shouts, "no!"
Bill's fury is almost pure. Even so, a little curiosity makes its way to the surface.
"You belong to me, though," he says.
"Yes! But I won't be responsible for this!"
Bill knows everything. Thinking back, he has heard that one of the limitations of hypnosis is that you can't force someone to do something they wouldn't do under any circumstances. He thought himself above these trifling technicalities.
He grabs Ford between two fingers. There is no longer any question of rewarding him now.
"How can you refuse me when you love me?" he asks.
And Ford, who is still in the grip of his conditioning, who cannot refuse to answer, opens his mouth.
"I loved you when you revealed to me that you wanted to destroy the world the first time," he says. "I think I never stopped being in love with a version of you that never existed. Of course I can refuse. I've done only that since..."
In other circumstances, Bill would find it hilarious to hear such an admission, torn unwillingly from Ford’s heart. But to learn that his power over humans has limitations - that's intolerable.
"I hate you," he says coldly.
Ford seems to be fighting not to cry. He doesn't do it very well. "I know."
Bill swings Ford between his fingers and throws him against the wall.
When he floats closer, he notes that the human is still conscious. Only a few broken bones. That’s for the best. He's not in the mood to fix it right now.
"If I can't force you to do something that you would never do, under any circumstances, I think it says something about you," he says, coming closer. "Look at what you've already accepted. Look at how perverted you are, Fordsy. Aren’t you?"
"Yes," is the answer that comes from Ford's hoarse throat. Bill's gaze lingers on his still firm erection.
"But you know," Bill murmurs, "All is not lost— for me, I mean. I’ve never tortured someone who loved me before. Now’s a good time to start."
Ford's horror satisfies Bill's frustrations, just a little. He has time to let off steam before trying another approach.
"Beg me to do it," he orders. "Be convincing."
Is this another thing that this human will be able to refuse him? But no, Ford begs him, prays to him that the pain in his heart and his body should overwhelm him.
Bill is all too happy to comply.