Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4632246.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Other
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez_(Rick_and_Morty), Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Drug_Use, Suicide_Attempt, Tentacles, Implied/Referenced
      Character_Death, Multiple_Orgasms
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-22 Words: 3478
****** As I lay me down to sleep ******
by mariachiMushroom
Summary
     Rick and Morty are molested by tentacle grass.
Notes
     This story was edited to patch up some plot holes and improve
     clarity.
See the end of the work for more notes
Before he stepped through the green portal after his grandpa, Morty steeled
himself for what might await on the other side. He inhaled a lung-full of air,
just in case the planet didn't have an oxygen-rich atmosphere, and double-
checked the charge of the laser pistol he kept in his pocket.
“Hurry—urrp—up, Morty, we don't have all day,” Rick called from the other side
of the portal. Well, at least the air was breathable. Morty hopped through the
portal, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.
He landed in an ankle-deep carpet of lavender alien grass, each stalk thick and
nubbly like a sea anemone tentacle. The two of them were on top of a hill, one
of many that dipped up and down the gently rolling plain. The lavender
stretched as far as the eye could see, until it met the peach-and-mango sky at
the horizon. A few teal clouds floated lazily above.
Although the Seussian landscape was peaceful, Morty kept on alert, gun at the
ready. The thick grass could hide any number of predators. A tall patch of
grass rustled suspiciously below and Morty peppered it with lasers.
“Woah, Morty, put that thing away unless you wanna pull a real Dick Cheney
move.”
“Well, sorry for being careful, Rick,” Morty said sarcastically, “I don't wanna
get jumped by some kind o-of pointy junk monster like last time. I had to get
twenty stitches!” In the field no less, with nothing more than a few swigs of
Rick's shitty booze to numb the pain. But Rick ignored Morty's complaints,
instead kneeling down and wrapping his hand around a thick grass stalk. He
squeezed the stalk, like he was milking a cow, and a thick white substance
extruded into his hand. Then he rubbed his finger on the inside of his gums.
“Rick, are you eating plant jizz? I mean, I guess it's okay if you're into that
kind of thing, but do-don't bring me along for your sick kicks.”
“Shut up, Morty. You wanna have a good time, you gotta follow my lead.” Rick
reached his hand towards Morty's face.
“Get that away from me, Rick, I'm not going to let you smear alien grass jizz
on my face.” Morty grabbed Rick's wrists to keep him away.
“You wanna, wanna be a square, Morty? Huh? You wanna be like Jerry? Too afraid
of life to live?” Rick used his greater height to make Morty fall backwards
into the welcoming grass. Caught off balance, Morty's guard fell and Rick was
able to splat a palm-full of milky sap on his face.
“Eurg, yuck, pllth,” Morty spat as some of the bitter liquid came in contact
with his tongue. He rubbed his face clean against his bare arm.
“I feel funny, Rick, what's going on?” Morty's anxiety was dissipating,
replaced by a fuzzy calm. He fell back against the grass and let Rick apply the
sap to his gums. Ordinarily, Rick's aggressive behavior would freak him out,
but right now everything was okay. Even the bitter taste in his mouth was okay,
or at least not worth arguing about.
A dopey grin bloomed on Rick's face.
“Oohhh, yeah, that's the stuff, Morty.”
“What's 'the stuff'?”
“It's like heroin and pot had a love baby and we're, I dunno, drinking its
blood or something.”
“Wait, y-you took me to an alien planet just so you could get high?”
“So wecould get high, Morty. You know, this is kind of, kind of a special place
for us Ricks. You're lucky I even brought you here.”
“Oh.” Morty could have complained more about being drugged against his will but
he didn't feel like making a fuss. Rick snuggled deeper into the hill, the soft
tendrils waving around like they were underwater. Morty, too, lay down and let
the grass stroke his bare arms. A tangle of strands reached into his scalp,
massaging the sensitive skin. Morty moaned. Ordinarily, he'd be embarrassed to
make such a sexual-sounding noise next to Rick, but for some reason, he was
cool with it. Everything was fine. The world was beautiful.
“You sound like you're—urrp—having a good time.”
“Yeah—” Morty's statement was cut off by a whimper as a tendril of grass
stroked the sensitive area behind his ear. He swallowed and began again. “You
know, I didn't believe you at first, Rick, but this is really nice. W-we should
have more adventures where we just lie around in nice places.”
Rick grunted noncommittally.
Morty couldn't stop his mouth from turning upwards in a wide grin, and he
didn't want to. He tilted his head towards Rick. Behind the veil of stroking
tendrils, Rick was utterly blissed out, with a wide carefree smile that
deepened the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
Morty's mind drifted away, just like the cotton-candy clouds floating above in
the pastel sky.
“That cloud kind of looks like Snowball, Rick.”
“I think it looks more like an Garflaxian Mermaid's hoo-ha. You know, they
have, like eight vaginas. Maybe more.”
“Oh, and that cloud looks like Jessica's bra! Not that I would ever break into
her gym locker and steal her underwear or something like that, ha ha.”
Morty's vision went dark, with the odor of booze, ozone, and machine oil. It
took a while for him to realize that it was because Rick had thrown his lab
coat over his head. Morty tossed the dirty white cloth aside.
“Rick, what are you doing?” Rick had already discarded his shirt and pants and
was now taking off his underwear.
“What's the matter, Morty, afraid of a little casual nudity? This old man's
balls too swangly for you?” Freed from the confines of his clothes, Rick
snuggled his butt back into the caressing grass with a sigh. Morty turned away
from his grandpa's wrinkly old body. A little too forcefully, as it turned out,
because he started rolling down the hill.
“Welp, gravity got me, so I'm just gonna roll with it,” Morty called out to
Rick. “If you need me I'll be at the bottom.” The nubbly grass curled upwards,
supporting him so that he fell at a constant speed. His vision cycled between
the grass and the sky, lavender and orange and back to lavender again, until he
finally came to a stop.
The grass at the bottom of the hill was about waist-high, and swayed without a
breeze. From his prone position looking at the sky, it seemed like he was lying
on the bottom of the ocean, with forests of kelp waving gently in the current.
The long strands caressed Morty's body in unison, stroking up and down in
peristaltic motions. A wave of motion would travel down his body: tickling his
cheeks and neck, petting his arms, groping his body through his clothes, and
then repeat.
The grass was not the only thing that was stirring. Morty gasped as a clump of
grass writhed between his legs, rubbing right against his stiffening cock. He
rocked upwards, wanting more pressure from the tentacles, but the grass didn't
resist and press down in the way he wanted. The soft strokes just weren't
enough to get him off. He needed to take matters into his own hands.
Rick was far enough away that he wouldn't notice, right? And anything he did
would be hidden by the grass …
Morty unbuckled his pants and reached under the waistband of his boxers. He
hummed as he grasped his stiff flesh, working the loose skin up and down in a
very practiced motion. Morty fucked the tight ring of his hand, sliding his
hips up and down as he clenched his fist. With his other hand, he hiked up his
shirt to play with his chest, revealing more skin for the tentacle grass to
grope. Morty tweaked his nipple like he usually did while masturbating, but
found that he could barely feel the pain. Even scratching red lines down his
chest caused no sensation beyond a dull pressure.
Morty was completely absorbed by the rhythm of his strokes, the caresses of the
grass, his breathing, the pulse of his heart. When he came, he almost didn't
notice it in the middle of how good his whole body felt. His climax traveled
all the way through his body in slow waves, starting at his tip and rippling
down into his pelvis, then going up his spine until fireworks burst in his
vision.
After the sweetest orgasm in his young life, Morty looked down to see just how
much he had come. But apart from a few drops of pre-come, his belly was dry.
Holy shit, he must have had one of those “dry orgasms” he'd read about online.
Morty squeezed his still-hard dick and was rewarded by another intense wave of
pleasure.
Morty lost track of how long he had been masturbating. It felt like he had been
dreaming his entire life and the only thing that mattered was staying in the
blissful present. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. The world was a
warm, fuzzy blanket fresh from the dryer. He saw psychedelic static every time
he closed his eyes.
He must have been jerking it for hours, because eventually, he could no longer
get his right hand to clench hard enough around his dick. Undeterred, Morty
rolled onto his belly, with plans to rock against the ground. Something hard
poked into his stomach. Morty rose to his knees to see what it was.
He had been lying on a human skull.
Huh. It occurred to Morty that he really should have been more concerned about
the fact that someone had died here, but the skull itself was so beautiful. The
white bone was riddled with cracks, out of which sprouted tiny yellow flowers
in various stages of bloom. A few tufts of teal hair were scattered around the
crown of the skull.
Investigate. Yes. He should examine the skeleton for clues as to how the person
had died. Or something like that. He should pick up his arm and brush aside the
waving grass. Yes. He should do that. At some point, he should really start
moving. Any minute now, he would build up the willpower to move.
Morty found himself pitching forward. He landed face-first into the rib cage of
the skeleton. Well, that was one way of sticking his nose into things. The body
smelled of rot, which mixed nauseously with the scent of the flowers. He turned
his head to the side so his nose wouldn't be pressing into the bone and found
himself face-to-face with another skull.
Draped around the second skeleton's torso was a yellow cloth. The fabric was
thin and almost rotted away, but Morty recognized it as a t-shirt. The same t-
shirt he was currently wearing.
He was lying next to his own remains. And that meant that the first skull must
have belonged to …
Rick.
Calm gone, Morty screamed. What the hell was going on here?
The alien grass was still stroking against Morty. He batted it away so he could
think more clearly. Something wet and ticklish, like a tongue, swiped up his
neck. Despite the unknown peril he was in, Morty couldn't help but moan. When
he unwrapped the drooling vine curled around his neck, his hands were coated
with some kind of clear liquid. He watched in horrified fascination as the skin
on his hands started blistering. He could see the tissue damage, but he
couldn't feel it at all.
The facts coalesced into a conclusion. This planet was a deathtrap, lulling
innocent Ricks and Mortys with its opiate secretions, only to digest them in
their drugged state. Morty had to tell Rick. He lurched to his feet and
struggled his way back to the top of the hill. The treasonous grass coiled
around his legs, begging him to stay.
At the top of the hill, Rick was still lolling indolently, his body half-sunken
into the ground, tugging insistently at his flaccid dick.
“Heh, Morty, I didn't know you were such a screamer.”
“Rick, I think this planet is trying to eat us!”
“Of course it is, you don't get something for nothing, Morty,” Rick shrugged.
“Do you know how meta—urrp—bolically expensive it is to manufacture opiates?
There would be no point if the plants didn't get something in return.”
“Rick, how can you be so-so calm about this?”
“I'm high as balls, Morty.”
“Well, I found a Rick skeleton at the bottom of the hill!” Rick didn't bat an
eye at Morty's panic.
“Oh, that must have been Rick B-431. He was the one who told me about this
place.”
“We have to get out of here, right now.” Morty grabbed Rick's arm and tugged,
but Rick just lay there like dead weight.
“You go. I'll stay. This is a nice place. I feel good. I'm haaapppyyyy,” Rick
drawled.
“I'm not leaving here without you!” Morty picked up the portal gun. The green
ball lightning in the tube was barely flickering. “Oh no, I must have forgotten
to charge it, there's barely enough juice for one person!”
“It's not your fault, Morty, I didn't remind you,” Rick replied dully. “Go on
ahead. Save yourself.”
“Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you here, Rick! Y-you know, there was a Morty
s-skeleton right next to the Rick one, right?” For a moment, Rick's smile fell.
Then he grabbed another tentacle and sucked, swallowing a mouthful of opiate
sap.
“Well, if you wanna—urrp—stay with me, Morty, that's fine too.” Rick patted the
spot next to him. “You, you're a good kid. The best friend a guy could ask for.
Y-you, you and me had a good run.” Morty slapped Rick's face but his head just
fell limply to the side.
It was up to Morty to get them both out of this mess. Maybe he could just
portal Rick back and wait for him to sober up and get back into his right mind?
But who knows how long that would take. The longer Morty stayed here, the more
the grass sapped his willpower. Already, his body felt so heavy, like he should
just lie down and take a nap forever. If only he had another portal gun …
Wait, maybe there was another gun! If the other Rick was anything like his, he
would have left an out for his Morty as well. But to get to it, he would have
to go back to the tall grass, where the tentacles secreting digestive juices
lie in wait.
Well, if that was what he had to do, so be it. Rick traced Morty with his eyes
as the boy washed his skin with the contents of Ricks' flask.
“Hey, hey Morty, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I'm doing?” said Morty, donning Rick's discarded lab
coat to protect his arms. “I'm getting the other Rick's portal gun and saving
our asses.”
“Wait, Morty,” Rick grabbed Morty's leg just as the boy was tucking his socks
over his pant legs. “We-we don't even know if there is a portal gun. If you go
back down, you're not gonna make it back up again. Just-just stay here with me.
We can watch the clouds. I'll even put my underwear back on. Please.” Morty
pulled his foot out of Rick's grasp.
“Sorry, Rick, I've got to do this. You'll thank me for this later.” And Morty
marched down the hill.
“You're making a big mistake, Morty!” Rick called out. “You're going to die
alone and I'm—” Rick cut off.
The grass rustled in a conspiratorial whisper. Morty pressed forward, through
the strands battering his legs. When he found the skeletons, Morty slid the
labcoat sleeves over his hands to serve as makeshift gloves and combed through
the nearby grass, searching for the color of electric green. The grass reached
for his bare face. Although he tried to bat them away, he couldn't avoid the
sticky touch of a few long strands running down his cheek. He rubbed off the
sap with his labcoat sleeves, but there were just too many tentacles, coiling
around his neck, ruffling his scalp.
Morty paused and shivered as a tentacle ran up his spine and curled around his
neck. The task at hand seemed so unimportant now. Surely he could enjoy himself
for a little bit? Touch himself just a little?
No,Morty screamed internally. Rick was counting on him. Morty continued
searching, picking up one hand and putting it down again, lumbering, heavy.
Finally, he spotted a bit of green underneath the lavender tendrils.
Morty dragged himself towards the portal gun. The green ball of energy in the
portal gun tube flickered dimly, but it still had a little juice left. But as
he closed his fingers around the handle, he felt a corresponding touch around
his ankle.
It seems like the tall grass was not going to give him up as easily this time.
Another tentacle wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the gun. The
grass flailed harder, layering Morty with sticky opiates. Morty's mind was
clouding, all sense of urgency leaving.
Morty reached for his ray gun with his free hand. Trembling with exertion, he
fired at the tentacle holding his arm. The beam of light pierced the tentacle,
splattering his face with acid secretions. Morty shot his foot free as well and
then staggered upright.
There was no time to waste. Morty ran towards the top of the hill, shooting the
stalks of tentacle grass as they reached for him. The air filled with a sweet
burning scent. Each breath of smoke sent his head reeling. He was walking on
stilts, his head precipitously high off the ground. When Morty finally reached
the top of the hill, Rick was completely wrapped in vines, more mummy than
grandpa.
“Rick, I got the other portal gun!” Morty called out. There was no response.
Morty shot one portal gun at the ground right below Rick. The green portal
sliced through the grass strands and Rick fell in. Then Morty dialed the other
gun to his home dimension and shot the air. The portal flickered, barely
present. He could only hope it was enough to get him home.
Morty landed on the garage floor in a grateful collapse. He could have kissed
the oil-stained ground. The remaining tentacles on Rick's body shriveled,
exuding their fluid internals into a puddle. The adrenaline faded, leaving
Morty with nothing but the dregs of opium slumber. The two lay on the floor,
limp, wrung out.
“Ohh, uhrg, what—urrp—happened?” said Rick, picking himself off the ground.
“How am I still awake?” Morty scrambled to tear off the flaccid grass stalks
still draped on his body.
“Rick, don't ever do that again, I almost didn't make it in time, oh god, what
if you had died,” Morty sobbed. Rick looked at Morty in shock.
“You saved me. I can't believe it. Y-y-you—you should have left me, I'm no
good.”
“I c-couldn't do that, you're my grandpa. You wouldn't have let me die alone on
an alien planet.” Rick turned away from Morty, huddling in a miserable hunch.
“Morty,” Rick rasped, “You should have let me die happy. I'm a fuck up, the
biggest fuck up in the universe. I fucked up my marriage, I fucked up a
universe, and one of these days, I'm gonna fuck you up too. I mean, I just fed
you drugs and forced you to watch me try to kill myself! What's gonna happen to
you if you keep hanging out with me?” In response, Morty wrapped his arms
around Rick's torso. His chest pressed into Rick's jutting spine.
“Rick, you don't get it. D-do you think I could have charged up a hill while
high as balls a year ago? I'm already different than I was before, but that's
not a bad thing. The old me was pretty lame.” Morty rested his head on Rick's
shoulder. “You know, you might be an asshole, but I'm glad you decided to live
with us. The universe is such a beautiful place. Even if it is mostly
terrible.” Rick turned around, his eyes dripping. He returned Morty's hug,
burying his face in the borrowed lab coat.
“Don't leave me, Morty. I-I,” Rick's voice choked, “I don't want to die alone.”
“I'm not gonna leave you, Rick. Just, just let me know if you hurt, okay?”
“Fine, Morty,” Rick rolled his eyes, but his mouth was turned up into a smile.
“Now, Morty, give me my lab coat back, I'm buck naked and hugging my grandson
and I don't want to give the audience the wrong idea. I know some people are
into the whole intergenerational incest thing, but I am noo—urrp—not one of
them.”
End Notes
     So I started writing a porn, and then it turned into a plot. I looked
     up the effects of opium and heroin for the purposes of this fic. I
     was actually ~this close~ to having Morty's "dope dick" be orgasm
     denial instead of multiple orgasms. Maybe in a parallel universe ...
     Special thanks to the skype peeps. You know who you are.
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