Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12022962.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez_(Rick_and_Morty), Morty_Smith_(Rick_and_Morty)
  Additional Tags:
      Prostitution, Glory_Hole, Bareback_Sex, drunk_fuck, Alcohol_Abuse,
      Painful_Sex, blowjob, Deepthroat, Incest, Verbal_Abuse, Fingering, Sleep
      Molestation, Drug_Abuse, Date_Rape_Drug/Roofies, sort_of_anyway.,
      Unconscious_Sex, Vomit_Mention, Bondage, implied_self_harm, Kidnapping,
      Anal_Sex, Sexual_Abuse, Blood, Suicidal_Thoughts, suicide_ideation
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-07 Updated: 2017-10-03 Chapters: 4/? Words: 15185
****** Just Like Your Morty ******
by longlivethecitadel
Summary
     A Rick gets introduced to a sex shop with a glory hole that hosts an
     escort Morty on the other side. This Rick has nasty fantasies about
     his own Morty and exercises them on one he won't get in trouble for
     fucking. Things get worse from there when Rick starts looking towards
     his own Morty.
     Starts consensual but turns dubcon to noncon, as a warning.
***** The First Mistake to a Slippery Slope *****
“S-so this is the place huh?”
“Oh yeah, I know you buddy, a-and not just because you’re me. Y-you, you’re
gonna love the little slut that’s in there.”
“What I can’t believe is that t-the Citadel just, they just let shit like this
exist?”
“Y-you telling me y-you don’t believe the freaks up the chain ever stop by this
place? Buddy, you haven’t been on the Citadel long have you?,” the brightly
suited Rick let out a gruff laugh as he smacked his client on the back. Another
Rick who he’d met a couple hours back while barhopping nearby and dragged him
here. Drunk Ricks were always the easiest clients, the easiest targets.
Emotionally weak, pathetic, and a little stupid. Not that this Rick would say
it to this sucker’s face. “Get on in there already! Y-you’re on a timer, feed
the machine if you need more of it, alright buddy? Ahhahaha!”
They were both laughing now, laughing until the client Rick was choking on his
own spittle. He was coughing but still smiling, not that the other Rick was
remotely concerned. If he was concerned about anything it’d be about the vomit
he’d obviously be sending someone in to clean up later. Oh well! That’s why
Janitor Mortys existed.
Still laughing as he backed away and shot the other Rick a couple of finger
guns and a wink, that drunk fucker finally opened the door to the stall after
another chug from his flask.
Finally he was in, almost wondering if he was dreaming, or hallucinating at
least. Rick looked around the compact stall, which boasted a fancy, soft, blue
carpet-like material. There was a seat in front of him, and above the seat was
a screen already set up playing some sort of alien porn. Clearly this place was
set up with the expectations that Ricks would be through here, there were the
exact sort of sex toys he loved using set up on the walls and in a bin in the
corner. Fancier, nicer looking than the sort of places he was used to
frequenting on alien planets or places equivalent to dirty truck stops.
He hadn’t believed it when that suited Rick told him about this place at the
bar. However, it wasn’t the well-designed, attractive sex shop run by Ricks for
Ricks that was surprising. It was the back room, and..
“H-hey there, babe, what you, ah, what are you doing over there huh? C-come on
over here, grandpa, s-show me what you’re packing.”
That.
That was what Rick really couldn’t believe.
He gulped dryly as his eyes locked onto the Morty peeking through a hole in the
stall wall big enough to show off his face. That was definitely a Morty. A
Morty that was blatantly, sexually flirting with him. That Rick hadn’t been
lying to him after all.
“H-hey little Morty, what’re you, what,” he was stumbling a bit, was it the
alcohol or his heart pounding in his chest that made it so hard to speak? Maybe
a little of both. The Morty giggled, seeming to play with his own curls. It
made Rick weak.
He slid a little closer, bending down to get a better look, “Y-you get paid to
be here, baby, or you just, you just really like sucking dick?”
“Little of both,” the Morty slowly licked his sweet little lips, “B-but what I
really like is having my grandpa Rick’s fat cock inside of me.” The little
fucker stuck his tongue out. Pretty obvious he was eating this up. This had to
be scripted, it was scripted right?
Still felt really weird to hear from his ‘grandson,’ hearing it in that voice
nearly made Rick choke again. “Y-yeah? Y-you, you want your grandpa’s dick,
Morty?” Shit, when did Rick get so hard? No dignity, no morals, about to fuck
his grandson from another universe. This was fucked up, but guilt was for
hungover sober Rick to deal with in the morning. “Y-you like the, you want, y-
you want grandpa to fuck your tight little ass?”
“Y-yes, I do! O-oh Rick, please fuck me, I’m s-so hard I can’t wait any
longer,” the Morty was practically panting, his tongue hanging out, the little
slut. Rick was so focused on that mouth, watching the drool glisten and drip
down from the tip of his tongue.
Rick inhaled so sharply he really did choke on his spit again this time. He
wiped his own drool on his sleeve as he tried to regain his composure enough to
speak again, “G-god, fuck, Morty. W-what’re you wearing, huh? Y-you, you look
like a regular Morty? No extra limbs?”
The Morty seemed to know exactly what Rick meant, but still moved to show off
his bare chest, letting his nipple pass the opening until his crotch was level
with the hole. It really showed off that he wasn’t kidding, that was a hard
Morty, and a young dick. Rick’s face heated up something awful. “I just have
these tight panties, I can wear a yellow shirt if y-you want me to while you
fuck me, Rick. I can be whatever you need me to be.”
“P-put on the shirt, Morty,” Rick swallowed again, distracted by that
underwear. It was lacy and blue, matching the rest of this place. But it really
was tight against that Morty, holding onto his skin and showing off every
detail of the erection that it just barely contained. Rick didn’t even know how
badly he wanted to see his grandson in flowery, childish panties until now.
This was sick, and even sicker that he wanted this Morty to look like his own
just so he could pretend he was fucking his real grandson.
The Morty complied and lowered himself again so Rick could watch him put the
shirt on. “G-grandpa Rick, are you going to touch me?” The Morty seemed to
shift to a more innocent tone, eyes big when he laid his face in the opening
again. God, he really knew how to play this Rick.
Unbuttoning his pants quickly with one hand, using his other to stroke the
Morty’s cheek gently, his imagination melded with the situation before him. “M-
Morty..” He moaned quietly as he began slowly jacking himself off. “Let
grandpa, he, he’s gonna, grandpa’s gonna make you feel good, alright Morty?”
Seeing Rick touch himself, the Morty opened his small mouth and let his tongue
hang again, an invite for him to come right in. “W-what about you, Rick? You
want m-me to m-make myself useful? I can be a g-good boy for you, Rick.”
“Y-yeah?” Rick scooted a little closer, that mouth both figuratively and
literally sucking him in, and he let it. He let that Morty wrap his lips around
his dick and take the head in. Suckling, it was like he was hungry for more,
tongue circling and lapping at the head. “O-oh fuck, that’s, god, that’s a good
boy, Morty..” Rick groaned, that mouth so wet, so good.
The Morty moaned in response to the encouragement, the vibrations from those
lips tightly squeezing onto his dick, making him twitch. “Oh yeah, that’s it..
Use that wet little tongue of yours, you slut,” Rick commanded, pressing right
up against the wall all too quickly. He grabbed onto the carefully placed bars
on either side of him, obviously there with the anticipation that a Rick would
be here thrusting his dick through the wall.
And he did, he thrust in too fast and hard for the Morty, thinking about face
fucking his own Morty, hearing him gag and choke for a hot second on the other
side of the wall. He thought about his Morty, sweet and innocent, dick down his
throat, gagging.. tears at the corners of his eyes. God. “D-don’t you fucking
stop, don’t you stop, M-m-morty, keep sucking.”
“S-sorry Rick! Your dick i-is just so big, I’m not used t-to having anything
like it in my mouth,” again the Morty panted, and Rick knew these words were
just to work him up. He didn’t really believe this Morty only sucked on his
dick and no one else’s.
But god was it working anyway.
The Morty was already back to work, stroking what he could of his ‘grandpa’s’
dick while sucking him off. It felt like the Morty knew just where to place his
tongue, and like he was licking up all the precum that oozed from the tip.
He’d have something else for him soon if he kept that up.
“Y-yeah Morty.. fuck. C-come on, baby, this dick isn’t too big for you, you’re,
you’re doing so good, just let it slide into your throat,” Rick was desperate,
using the bars he held onto to help him thrust frantically into the hole. The
kid’s hand was keeping him from choking, which was quickly becoming
frustrating. It wasn’t enough.
Rick unraveled so fast as lust overtook him. If this wall wasn’t in the way he
would have this Morty’s hair in his hands and would be holding his head down on
his dick.
But he couldn’t, and his exasperation showed in his cracking voice, “M-morty
god dammit! W-when will you, c-can’t you do anything right? C-choke on my
fucking dick, you bitch!”
The Morty blinked, but really only wanted to please, and against his better
judgement, dropped the hand that created the barrier between his throat and
this Rick’s drunken lack of control.
About what he expected happened as Rick, with only the wall restraining him,
shoved his dick down his throat. It was a tight fit, Morty was still somewhat
small, and the walls of his throat weren’t prepared for the speed this Rick was
assaulting them.
“O-o-oohh fffuck,” Rick moaned, “C-choke on my dick Morty, c-c-choke on it,
bitch.” His cock twitched listening to the Morty gag around him, feeling the
kid retch, every muscle in his throat moving and massaging Rick’s dick. Drool
ran down the length and dripped off his balls and it made lightning shoot
through Rick’s body at the idea of taking advantage of his Morty like this. At
the idea of using him and cumming down his throat.
The pleasure was fleeting, as the Morty on the other side of the wall pulled
back, trying not to throw up. The kid had to catch his breath, and was coughing
up spit stuck in his throat. That yellow shirt was a mess.
“R-r-rick, it’s t-too much, too fast. I c-can’t, catch my breath. P-please.”
Rick used the slick drool on his dick to stroke himself again, moaning under
his breath as the Morty begged. He wanted his Morty to beg to him like that.
Beg on his little knees, crying for his Rick. The thought kept him rock hard.
“G-give me your, lemme see your ass, Morty. I want to see those panties again,
s-show grandpa your sweet little ass.”
Relieved, the Morty happily obliged and stuck his bum up to the hole, his balls
sitting on the edge of the wall almost comfortably. Rick was taking another
swig of alcohol from his flask and swiping a card on the machine at the wall.
He didn’t want to get interrupted in the middle of this just because his time
ran out, that would be fucked up.
Well, not as fucked up as what he was doing. But again, guilt later, sweet
pleasure now.
Patiently, the Morty waited, though unsure with the sudden wait time, he still
asked anyway, “H-hey Rick s-should I take off my panties?”
“N-no Morty, y-you just, you keep those pretty little things on,” Rick quickly
set the flask down on the seat just to say that, alcohol and spit rolling down
his chin. His lab coat came off and dropped almost as quickly as Rick dropped
to his knees.
He leaned in close, breath coming out against the Morty’s cheeks and making him
wiggle his ass a bit with a small moan.
“Y-yes Rick.”
Eagerly, Rick only briefly ran his finger from the top of those panties down to
his balls, then hooked a finger around the lace and held the panties to the
side. Rick licked his lips looking at that puckered little ass, so surprisingly
clean, so small. He wanted his throbbing dick in there immediately.
But not yet.
First he shoved a finger right in, pushing despite the yelp from the Morty and
the tightening muscles making it difficult. In fact, he barely waited before
trying to get a second finger in. Trying, and succeeding, the Morty’s asshole
wasn’t super tight and seemed to have some give to it. This wasn’t the first
time he’d been fucked.
It was still a bit surprising anyway, with the Rick diving in so quickly and so
forcefully without any lube. It hurt a bit, but it was just fingers, so the
Morty shook his head through a few whimpers and tried to relax. The Rick was
parting his fingers and stretching his unprepared hole, roughly shoving them in
to the knuckle. “R-rick, ohhh..” he tried to moan encouragingly, despite the
protest from his body, despite the held back whines in his throat when Rick
curled his fingers and dug them in.
“D-don’t worry, Morty, grandpa’s gonna f-fuck you real, real good,” his voice
was almost a whisper, like he was trying to soothe this Morty’s whimpers.
Even though those noises only fueled his lust. Rick’s fingers were out and it
was sweet relief to the Morty. This Rick was so rough with little care for his
wellbeing. He was almost ready for this client to be finished with him as
quickly as possible.
Rick stood again, using one of the bars to pull himself up. Couldn’t let go of
those panties though, needed them out of the way. He lined up the head of his
dick with Morty’s hole, shrugging and telling himself ‘good enough’ to the
little bit of slickness left from the Morty’s mouth.
But it wasn’t good enough.
He pushed and pressed against that opening, even spitting on himself a bit to
lube up again. By the time the Morty realized what this Rick was doing, lubing
with spit and nothing else, it was too late. Rick had pushed his way in, and
without anything to make the process smoother, pangs of pain went up the
Morty’s spine.
Every inch in was another loud cry from the kid, “Lube, lube lube lube, l-l-
lube, Rick!! R-Rick please!”
It was almost like Rick wasn’t listening at all as he pulled back, and shoved
back in again with full force, causing the Morty to nearly scream.
He heard though. It was impossible for him not to, he heard Morty plead.
No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear his grandson beg him to stop, it was that
he wanted to make him do it more.
He wanted to make him scream, he wanted him to cry because his grandpa’s dick
was too big, and it hurt too much. It was sick.
It was sick for him to take advantage of this Morty, who gave Rick the benefit
of the doubt only to be paralyzed by the pain of his ass stretching and
twitching as it accommodated the unwanted intruder pounding into him so hard
his legs were shaking.
Morty wouldn’t even mind! He wouldn’t even mind being fucked so roughly, if
only there were lube! He wanted to pull anyway but his arms were shaking and
weak, and instead feebly hit against the wall.
“P-please, please, please,” his begging slowly broke into sobs as it seemed
like the Rick had no intention of stopping.
“O-oh yeah, M-m-morty, such a g-g-g-good boy,” Rick groaned, feeling himself
grow so close. It was the sobbing that finally did it, that sent Rick over the
edge. In one final movement, he pulled back one last time and dived right back
in as the orgasm rushed over his entire body. He could feel it from is head
right down to his toes, legs trembling with the intense pleasure that came with
filling his grandson to the brim. His cock quivered with every drop that shot
out, shivering with the idea of leaving this Morty here with all of that cum in
him like the cheap whore he literally was.
When the high of the orgasm faded, he finally pulled out and slumped against
the wall, grabbing for his coat. He put it on as he took another drink from the
flask. That was.. good. Too good.
Rick was already feeling sick from what he just did, and drank every last drop
of alcohol left.
The Morty, just happy to have it over with, blinked away the tears stinging his
eyes. He slammed his fist against the wall and quickly moved to curl up in the
corner. “F-fuck you, asshole!” he hissed with intense venom.
Rick only stared blankly at the door. He had no response or excuse for what he
did. There was still a bit of time left, but it didn’t matter. He was out of
there quickly after his pants were back on. Rick was satisfied, despite leaving
feeling sick.
When he left, both of them were hoping he wouldn’t do this to his actual Morty.
***** The Second Mistake Feeds the Monster *****
Chapter Summary
     Drunk again, Rick keeps sliding down a slope he never wanted to let
     himself fall into. Now that he's had a taste of Morty, he wants more,
     and visits his grandson at night while he sleeps.
     Warning: This is completely 100% non-consensual with chapters past
     this intending on getting worse from here.
Chapter Notes
     posting for now, likely going to update again later with a more
     readable/less typoed version (hopefully there aren't too many,
     cheers!)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Morty always looked so innocent when he slept.
The way he curled around his pillow, the way he clung to it like he was just
begging for someone to hold. His quiet snores that indicated he was alive and
not just as dead as his still sleeping body looked. The drool that always
seemed to pool under him, so unaware of everything outside the dreams in his
head. How he always slept in nothing but his underwear and showed off so much
of his young body.
Rick tried to keep his breath steady as he watched his grandson sleep. This
wasn’t the first time he had been here in his room, in the dark, in the dead of
night. Just.. watching.
Rick had a problem, and he knew it.
But he couldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop thinking about that Morty he fucked
in that sex shop. He couldn’t stop his thoughts running with the desire to do
to his Morty what he did to that one.
It was even harder to control his impulsive desires when he was drunk or
drugged. He drank to numb the guilt and try so desperately to quell the
thoughts. Why wasn’t it working? His self control was falling to pieces, which
was so evident by how close he was to Morty this time. Evident by how his hand
rubbed his own aching crotch through his pants.
When he was sober, he constantly thought about what Beth would think. How fast
would he be out of here if she found out what Rick was doing? And he wouldn’t
blame her, the thoughts that haunted his mind alone made him want to kill
himself on a daily basis. How could he do this to Morty? Did he even really
care? He wasn’t sure.
But he wasn’t sober, and his hand was hovering over Morty, breath becoming more
ragged as he thought about all the things he wanted to do to his grandson.
Everyone was asleep, no one would know. And even if they came in, it’s not like
they would question Rick if he came up with some excuse for being in Morty’s
room, or if he told them he had come to take Morty on an adventure.
No one would know.. if he just…
Rick inhaled and held his breath as his fingers grazed over Morty’s thighs.
Morty didn’t seem to notice, still snoring quietly. Rick thought about drugging
him, just in case. Drug him, knock him out cold, and you can touch him all you
want. But even the alcohol couldn’t stop him from feeling sick over that
thought.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to bother, not when Morty was letting him run his
fingers down his stomach and over his crotch.
The only real response from the kid was a bit of soft, sleepy mumbling and
slight shifting. This made Rick freeze, eyes locked on Morty to see if he was
going to wake up. Not yet, it seemed.
Rick’s fingers dared to squeeze onto the sides of Morty’s dick and slowly,
carefully moved up and down the length through the cloth of his briefs. This
simple action alone had Rick’s heart pounding, especially as Morty naturally
hardened to the stimulation. More soft noises came in response, and Rick was
high on the adrenaline of the mere idea that he shouldn’t be doing this. Morty
could wake up at any moment, and the growing hardon in his own pants only made
him want to touch him more.
It was difficult to really reach everything he wanted to with the way Morty was
laid on his side with his pillow still held to his chest. His legs curled up
just enough to make access difficult, and with him facing away from Rick,
visibility wasn’t the easiest. Still, better Morty not wake up staring right
into his grandpa’s crotch. Always that chance that Rick could step into the
darkness of the room and pretend he was never here. Morty couldn’t prove it was
him, he could blame it on Jerry and Beth would believe him.
Ha! Jerry. Yes, he would be such an easy target for blame.
The realization made Rick bolder, his hand diving right into Morty’s briefs and
finding a fumbling grip on his grandson’s dick. It wasn’t the easiest position,
but he wasn’t about to move Morty around. Instead, it was easier to pull the
kid’s semi-soft dick from between his legs and move the head to rest against
the band of Morty’s underwear. A little easier to jerk his length if even only
in a more pulling motion, fingertips pressing onto the base of the dick and
sliding up to the tip.
Morty really seemed to harden up now, making his briefs start to bulge. The
increased pressure also made Morty stir, eyes cracking open as he questioned,
“J-jessica..?”
His legs started to shift as he moved to roll over, still stuck in a dreamy
state. Something felt nice, strange but nice. There was a warm pressure in the
lower half of his body that he couldn’t quite place.
Then suddenly there was a firm hand on his shoulder keeping him from rolling
over. Though dazed, Morty was starting to process that someone was touching
him.
And then his eyes suddenly shot open. Someone, was touching his crotch. Stuck
between distressed confusion and natural sexual excitement, Morty wasn’t sure
whether to say something. Words were caught in his throat that came out in soft
squeaky moans.
He had.. never really been touched like this before. Was he dreaming?
Morty tried to turn his head to find out who was touching him only to find the
hand moving from his shoulder to his face, pressing his cheek firmly down into
the bed sheets.
Anxiety immediately filled his chest now.
Who was touching him? Why wasn’t he allowed to move? His mind cycled through
everyone who could even possibly be in his house but every single person was
someone in his family and brought a sick feeling into the pit of his stomach.
What was somewhat warm and pleasurable touches now felt cold and painful as
Morty’s desire to be touched dropped quickly.
“N-no, s-s-stop!” he decided to squeak out, immediately pushing back against
the body that was suddenly on the bed with him and curling with his body, “I-I-
I, I don’t, I don’t..” He was going to protest that he didn’t want this, but a
hand was around his mouth now, muffling him.
He could bite it.. he could bite that hand, but he didn’t. Morty found himself
frozen in place more than anything, terrified at the thought that this could be
Rick, or his dad, or.. or..
A quiet ‘shh’ was breathed into Morty’s ear, causing the smell of alcohol to
waft over Morty’s senses. Rick attempted to keep his identity a secret by
speaking not even a single word, but Morty knew immediately from the scent
alone. Realization came in waves of cold nausea through his entire body, sweat
starting to dampen his skin.
His grandpa was touching him. His grandpa had his hand on his dick, now wrapped
around in a tight grip, and was jerking him off. He didn’t want to have this
boner, but it wasn’t going down either. It’s not like he wanted the boner that
he could feel pressing between the cheeks of his ass either. Not that it
mattered what he wanted, as Rick started to grind his hardon up against Morty’s
ass.
Overwhelmed with negative feelings, Morty tried to swing his arm around and
ineffectively hit Rick. His shoves were too weak and only made the man put more
of his weight on Morty, making it difficult to move at all.
Begging for mercy through muffled whimpers seemed to be just as useless, and
only made things worse as Rick became more rough in his strokes. Morty
frantically attempted to grab onto Rick’s wrist and tugged and tugged, only to
be ignored, grip tightening around his length and becoming nothing but painful.
This couldn’t be his grandpa. It couldn’t be. Rick was horrible sometimes but
never like this. Morty’s anxiety turned into denial, his struggle turning into
limp defeat. His real grandpa would never touch him like this, it couldn’t be
real, he had to be dreaming. And fighting it any of it at all felt hopeless.
Fighting Rick was always hopeless, he should have known.
Resolving to give up rather than fight it, tears streamed down his face and ran
over the hand covering his mouth. This seemed to elicit a quiet groan from Rick
and he sunk his teeth into the bare skin of Morty’s shoulder. The pain made his
grandson sob out audibly but he didn’t really move, just squeeze his eyes shut.
Rick know Morty cried pretty easily but didn’t expect tears so soon. He didn’t
even have his dick in him yet, that’s when he really expected to make him cry.
Just as well, Rick knew he couldn’t get away with pounding Morty, not here, not
in the bed. The bed would make far too much noise and someone would definitely
hear, especially if he went too hard and knocked the bed against the wall.
Rick had other ideas of what he wanted to do anyway that would be much quieter.
First of all, he had to make sure Morty wouldn’t squeal too much. Always such a
noisy fucker. Rick moved his hand from Morty’s mouth to his nose, pinching it
closed. Morty didn’t understand at first until his grandpa was grabbing onto
the pillow he had been clinging to and shoved as much as would fit into his
mouth when Morty had to gasp for air just to breath.
It tasted like his own sweat and drool as it was forcefully pushed between his
teeth and touched the back of his throat. It was only when Morty gagged that
Rick stopped. Breathing wasn’t going to be easy while trying to sniffle back
the snot build up from crying so hard. He’d rather Rick just tell him to be
quiet than be stuck with his jaw straining from the pressure of the pillow. He
would be quiet, he swear he would if it would just stop.
With Morty’s noises muffled, Rick’s fingers circled his grandson’s bare
nipples. Exciting how they stiffened under his touch. He pinched them both and
twisted far too hard, nearly causing his Morty to scream into the pillow.
Morty’s back arched away and he reflexively tried to turn out of Rick’s grip.
A mistake, again, as Rick now yanked on his nipples, pulling outwards as far as
the skin would stretch. More sobs from Morty, never having felt pain like this
before, he didn’t know such a small part of his body could hurt so badly.
In his head, Morty was screaming in agony, but out loud he remained quiet save
for his sniffles and the occasional cough to keep the pillow from going too far
down his throat.
Rick though..
It was disgusting how turned on he was by making Morty give in so easily. To
dominate him and really show him who’s the fucking boss. Rick was going to make
Morty worship him like a god, his tears were like a sweet, salty offering to
Rick’s self-entitled ego.
Rick’s hand slid down Morty’s side and into his briefs again. This time
however, his palm moved over Morty’s bony ass, stopping only to admire just how
perfectly it fit in his hand. So small, such a young, innocent, easy to take
advantage of boy. Such a good boy.
Rick’s finger felt around until it found his Morty’s asshole. He only circled
it briefly before pushing in. It didn’t have as much give as that whore Morty
he fucked before, a tighter fit, knowing that this was the first time fingers
were ever put inside of his Morty.. and he was the one to do it.
It was satisfying. It was like claiming ownership. This was his Morty and
nothing in the universe was going to change that.
Morty practically jumped when Rick forced the finger deeper. It hurt, it hurt
it hurt it hurt. Morty always thought about being fucked, at least in the
occasional fantasy, but he never knew it would hurt so badly. He was scared,
and only frightened further when Rick was trying to push in a second one.
Shaking his head, Morty grasped at the sheets and tried to pull himself away
from Rick. Which, like the rest of his attempts, turned out to be a horrible
mistake.
Rick grabbed ahold of Morty by the chest and pulled him back against his body,
second finger going in and pushing and pushing with no wait at all. It hurt it
hurt it hurt, Morty repeatedly screamed inside his own head, but was far too
terrified to make any real sounds.
He could feel Rick’s breath heavy on his neck and the fingers inside of him
curling to stroke something inside of him as they pulled back out, then pushed
right back in.
Rick could feel Morty’s ass tightening around his fingers, making it more and
more difficult to move. Morty was going to let him fuck him one way or another,
and Rick didn’t care if he had to force his fingers in to the knuckles, he
didn’t care that it made Morty shake and writhe and sob in pain.
His hand wrapped around his grandson’s cock again and stroked in time with the
movement of the fingers inside of Morty.
“Y-y-you’re going to cum for me, grandpa’s gonna take care of you and make you
cum, Morty,” Rick didn’t care if he exposed himself for who he really was, he’d
long resolved that no one believe Morty if he bitched to his family. He laughed
drunkenly into Morty’s ear, who cringed away from his grandpa in terror.
How could Morty cum if he was in so much pain? Jacking off usually felt good,
but this didn’t feel good, it made his insides churn and overloaded his senses.
It felt like Rick’s fingers were prodding something deep inside of him that was
building pressure. Was Morty going to explode? Was Rick going to tear him apart
from the inside out? Morty expected it at this point.
“That’s it, that’s it, c-c-come on, baby,” Rick’s breathing quickened with the
pace he was touching Morty. He knew exactly what he was doing, right down to
how much he was hurting his grandson. He could feel it in how the kid’s entire
body trembled.
Morty, when he thought he couldn’t possibly take it anymore, buried his face in
the pillow, clinging to it like it was the only thing left to protect him. And
then he came.
It was unsatisfying, almost like there was no pleasure to it, only a lot of cum
that dribbled from his dick and stained his sheets along with the cold sweat.
He felt exhausted like his body had had all of the energy sucked out of him and
put into that load of sticky mess covering his grandpa’s hand.
It was the worst orgasm he’d ever had. And he felt like he might throw up, Rick
had been right, as always. No matter how much Morty thought it was impossible,
no matter how much he had never wanted someone he had so much of his trust in
to touch him like this. He couldn’t stop shaking, violently, starting to feel
numb in his mind despite the painful anxiety taking over his body.
Morty stayed silent. Rick whispered more ‘good boy’s into his ear and ‘I told
you you’d cum for grandpa’ into Morty’s ear.
And then every bit of touch was removed from Morty. No fingers, leaving him
feeling empty, cold, used, but wanting. Rick wasn’t on the bed anymore keeping
the sweat from making Morty feel completely freezing.
“I-if you d-dare tell anyone what happened,” Rick said in a quiet, yet menacing
tone, “You know what, d-don’t even bother. They won’t believe you. No one will
ever believe you, Morty. You’ll keep your mouth shut and we’ll keep having our
adventures and tomorrow will be just like every other day, you got that,
Morty?”
Too petrified to even respond, Morty took in every word and felt more hollow
than he ever had in his entire life.
Rick didn’t seem to care if he got a response. He slipped out of the room
silently sans the quiet click of the door closing, leaving Morty to stew in his
own thoughts and mess.
-
Morty hadn’t slept a wink, still in complete and numb shock even when morning
came. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the shower now but it wasn’t
enough. He didn’t feel clean.
It must have been a while, because Summer was banging on the bathroom door,
causing Morty to jump and nearly slip and fall. “Morty! Hurry the fuck up in
there, you’re not the only one who has to get ready for the day, you know!” she
was clearly agitated, but it took Morty a minute to even process it.
“Y-yeah okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” Morty tried to sound normal. Did he
sound normal?
Summer might have responded again, but Morty didn’t quite hear. Everything was
going into his ear like every sound was behind five walls. He felt like he
might float out of his own body, and drying himself off after the shower was so
strange. It was like his body wasn’t his, he couldn’t even feel the towel
against his skin, could barely move his arms the way he wanted to.
Eventually Morty said fuck it and dressed, hair still dripping wet. It didn’t
really matter, he was dry enough. He just wanted to get out of the house as
quickly as he could before Rick tried to take him through space. Morty just
wanted to go to school today.
He rushed out of the bathroom and downstairs, ignoring Summer’s “Finally!” as
he passed by. Morty nearly tripped down the stairs, struggling to properly get
his legs to function the way they were supposed it. He was headed for the
kitchen to find his parents when he froze in the doorway, seeing Rick talking
to his mom about.. he wasn’t sure what. He couldn’t focus.
Seeing Rick now, his demeanor seemed so different. That smile on his face as he
talked to Beth didn’t read ‘rapist.’ His posture seemed open and friendly, if
not a bit hungover and sick, maybe a little depressed but that was always Rick.
Maybe.. maybe Morty really had dreamed it all up.
Or maybe that wasn’t really his Rick last night violating him.
Denial and numbness ate away at his mind. He was frozen, unable to move from
staring at the way Rick spoke to his mom like nothing happened.
Only when Rick looked at him was he able to move, and Morty bolted. He ran
without hesitation right out the front door. He would wait for mom and dad to
come out and drive him, or he’d walk to school if he had to. Anything to avoid
Rick right now.
Rick.. he didn’t follow.
He stared after Morty. But didn’t move.
“Was that Morty? What was that about?” Beth questioned, oblivious to
everything. Oblivious to the deep frown on Rick’s face.
Rick waved a hand like he was waving the problem away as he turned toward the
garage. “W-who knows? Teenagers, right? L-look sweetie I have shit to do, so I
don’t have time to talk today. Maybe Morty’s upset because he knows we can’t
adventure today, w-w-who knows with that kid.”
“Oh, alright dad,” Beth seemed more disappointed in Rick’s quick escape into
the garage than she did over her son’s disappearance. Just when the morning was
starting to seem nice.. but, she shrugged it off quickly, knowing this was
about as typical as a usual day to her.
It wasn’t a usual day. It was going to be, up until he fucked up last night.
Sober Rick knew what he had done. He locked the garage door behind him and
slumped to the floor, legs sprawled, head in his hands. Fuck fuck fuck. Why did
he do that? Why did he hurt his own Morty like that? Why couldn’t he just watch
him like he usually did, why did he have to touch him?
Sober Rick was battling a monster, and the monster was himself.
Chapter End Notes
     i never really felt like a lot of fics i delved into really went
     extensively into noncon, like it always had to be dubcon in some way.
     so this entire chaptered series is a bit self-indulgent mixed with
     some personal experience/trauma.
     i hope some of you find this trip interesting at least!
     as always, feel free to comment/leave feedback or requests for this
     duo
***** The Third Mistake is a Loss of Control *****
Chapter Summary
     Rick finds himself falling apart, losing against his desires to have
     his Morty in every sense. Running out of ways to cope with the
     thoughts tearing him apart, Rick knocks out his Morty and has his way
     with him.
     Warning: This is still 100% non-consensual, Morty is completely
     unconscious during this encounter.
Chapter Notes
     posting for now, will update later with slight edits! I love any
     feedback on what I'm writing or what you guys might enjoy see happen
     with these two! I didn't expect so many people to actually be
     interested in following this duo, so I hope you all are finding the
     additions satisfying.
     thanks for reading!
It had been weeks since they spoke.
They were both playing a game of avoidance, stepping around each other,
avoiding speaking, avoiding even looking at each other. Morty was afraid to be
alone in that ship with Rick. Afraid of what he could do to him in there,
scared of where he could take him without Morty having any remote sense of
control over the situation. They could end up alone on some desolate planet and
Rick could.. touch him.. again.
Rick was just as afraid of being alone with his grandson. He rarely came out of
the garage unless he knew Morty was at school. If Rick had somewhere off-planet
to go, he went alone. Occasionally they caught each other in the same room with
tension so thick it was suffocating.
Their interactions were always brief, a moment of locked eyes, terror shooting
through Morty’s body, Rick holding his breath, unmoving, stiff.
Morty always left first, head down, moving quickly. 
If anyone else in the family noticed something was wrong, they didn’t point it
out. They said nothing, moving about their days as usual while Morty spoke
less, barely ate.
In a way, Morty was afraid Rick was right that night. Those words repeatedly
rang in his head, ‘no one will believe you, no one will believe you, no one
will believe you.’ No one even cared or noticed that anything was different,
that Morty was constantly screaming beneath his skin. Why would they believe
him or care if he said anything about what Rick did to him? 
So he stayed silent.
Loneliness was consuming Rick, and he knew he deserved it. His behavior became
reckless, finding the most dangerous realities to travel to, taking the space
ship car into planets at a nosedive and only pulling up at the last second,
provoking and fighting entire armies of alien bastards with nothing but a pair
of sharp knives. Maybe if he slipped up and died somewhere, he wouldn’t have to
face the consequences of his actions or face Morty ever again.
Unfortunately his death wishes weren’t his saving grace.
Rick still found himself frequenting bars. His brain was still overwhelmed with
thoughts of Morty, wanting to bring him with, missing him, missing watching
him, missing touching him. He tried to drown the thoughts with alcohol and
drugs of varying intensities. Sought out various people for empty, meaningless
one night stands that didn’t seem to satisfy him like they used to. 
He went from fucking strangers, to imagining strangers as his grandson in bed,
to finding himself right back at that sex shop on the Citadel.
They weren’t happy to see him.
As it turns out, their Escort Morty wasn’t silent about what Rick had done, but
he was still a paying customer, and with enough Schmeckles on the table, they
let him fuck their Morty again. 
The third time he returned, they wouldn’t even let him in the door. Rick had
been so fucked up last time he couldn’t remember being there a second time.
What had he done?
Rick wanted to push it, already drunk, angry and barely standing, he demanded
answers. His persistent indignation faded quickly when the colorfully suited
Rick that seemed to run the place had a gun pointed at him and was making
threats to report him to one of the Guard Ricks.
Giving up, he spent the rest of that night drinking at the bar next door until
he passed out on top of one of their booths and was thrown out into the street
with his clothes soaked in his own vomit.
His Morty back at home started waking up and finding marks on his body as the
weeks went by. He didn’t know why, and if he tried to put the most likely
reason to it, Morty would feel his whole body go numb again.
But if Rick was touching him again.. why didn’t Morty remember anything? 
Morty wasn’t even sure he had seen Rick in days at this point. He was starting
to become too afraid to sleep.
He didn’t know at first if he should hide the marks that were left until those
words repeated in his head, ‘don’t you dare tell anyone.’ Suddenly Morty
decided weather be damned, it was time to start wearing a scarf to hide the
strange painful bruises and hickeys on his neck.
It was too hot out. He was sweaty and shaking, knowing the scarf drew more
looks than the marks might have in school, but now he was too afraid to take it
off. 
Morty wasn’t sure what he would say if anyone asked, he wondered what they
would say if he told them his grandfather was leaving those marks.
Maybe he could play it off like he had a secret girlfriend, laugh it off and no
one would worry or ask too many questions. 
Why couldn’t things just go back to normal?
 
===============================================================================
 
Unable to sleep properly anymore, Morty had been lying awake in bed the night
he finally heard it. Footsteps outside his door. They seemed to wait there a
long time, like they were uncertain. Long enough that Morty almost thought he
had just hallucinated the sounds.
He hadn’t, of course. And was certain of this fact when the door handle to his
room turned, ending in a click as the door creaked open. This had to confirm
Morty’s suspicions. His grandpa was coming in at night and.. Oh god, Morty
didn’t want to be awake right now.
Fearfully, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he was asleep as
footsteps drew near his bed. Morty really hoped he didn’t look too fake. In
contrast to his held breath, he could hear the figure’s labored breathing above
him. It was obvious Rick was drunk with how noisy his breathing was.
‘Please don’t touch me please don’t touch me,’ Morty pleaded to Rick in his
head as if it would make any sort of difference.
No touch came. Not right away anyway. 
There was some mechanical clinking noises and what sounded like liquid sloshing
around. What was happening? What did Rick have and what was it going to do to
him?
Morbid curiosity overtook him, Morty couldn’t help cracking his eyes open and
slowly blinking them until they adjusted to the darkness of the room. He was
absolutely certain that was Rick standing over him now. 
The old man didn’t seem to notice just yet that Morty was looking right at him,
trying to eye what was in his hands. It was clearly some kind of device but the
uncertainty of just what it was was nerve racking to Morty, and it had him
beginning to tremble, clinging tightly to his sheets.
The next thing he knew, Rick seemed to be pressing the device to his neck and
with a click, Morty’s neck was suddenly pierced by a quick, sharp needle that
seemed to be pumping something into him. And he screamed.
It was painful and frightening and he had no idea what Rick had just injected
into him but Rick was quick to slam his palm over Morty’s mouth. 
“Shit,” Rick hissed under his breath, clearly caught by surprise. Morty didn’t
usually wake up, he wasn’t usually prone to making any noise, it just happened
with no struggle every other night. Had Morty caught on to him? Was his scream
going to be the end of it all?
Rick held his breath to listen for anyone as Morty attempted to grab at the
machine, then his own neck, then Rick’s hands until he became weaker and
weaker, and fell completely silent as the serum in his system put him right
back to sleep. Morty should be knocked out cold. The real question was if
Morty’s noises had woke anyone else.
“Morty, go to sleep ,” a clearly half asleep Summer called from down the hall
in her own bed, but no one else seemed to get up or come to Morty’s room.
Just to make sure of course, Rick stayed completely silent, still holding his
hand over Morty’s mouth as he tucked away the device into his coat. He waited
there a bit at least, just watching Morty breathe, his chest slowly moving up..
then down. Peaceful.
That’s what the serum was for after all, knock Morty out, mess with his body a
little, the kid wouldn’t remember and Rick could pretend he was absolving
himself from any sort of guilt. If no one knew, then he wasn’t doing anything
wrong. Right? 
The idea came to him the first time he touched his grandson, but at the time
he’d opted not do it. It didn’t seem right. Yet.. the more he dwelled on the
idea, and the less access Rick had to any other outlets, and the lonelier,
drunker he grew.. the more the idea had came up in his thoughts until finally
Rick’s drugged-filled veins convinced him it was a brilliant idea.
Feeling safe enough to leave, Rick scooped the unconscious Morty up into his
arms and moved through the house with careful steps. Not careful enough to
bother closing the door to Morty’s room, yet careful enough to make sure his
wobbly steps wouldn’t cause too much noise going down the stairs and into the
garage.
The chances that anyone in the house would bother following him in here were
low, but he still locked the door behind him and kicked a switch set up next to
the door, activating a security system to keep everyone the fuck out of his
space. It was only really set up to hurt Jerry if that bastard bothered. If it
was Beth or Summer Rick would be alerted immediately.
Rick was smart enough to take extra measures though, and placed a quietly
snoring and drooling Morty on the cold floor while he opened up a panel to the
lower half of his garage space. There were multiple uses for this bunker after
all. One of which included sneaking off every once in awhile and secretly
fucking his grandson.
Picking up Morty again, Rick lept through the opening in the floor and landed
in such a practiced manner on the padded matting below. The hatch door above
slammed shut, darkening the space around them only briefly before the lights
kicked on, sensing Rick’s presence.
Rick didn’t need anything down here but the small room he had repurposed for
his sickeningly increasing desires. He passed by caged animals, weaponry, alien
devices and drugs. The only thing he stopped for was a full bottle of vodka,
and stopping was debatable. Rick knew it was there before he even moved past
it, and tossed Morty over his shoulder like a sack of dead weight just so he’d
have a hand free to grab the bottle.
The room he required a quick retinal scan and then the doors were open, which
was another set that closed tight after Rick was inside. This mini room had a
lot of computers and junk in the corners that Rick hadn’t bothered to move out
yet. The real important part was the set up in the back, a spreader bar
attached to the wall that he locked Morty to, though not before setting the
bottle of vodka down next to him. The bar would have Morty cuffed by his wrists
and hold him up despite his limp body. His ass would sit on the floor, the bar
keeping his head high enough up to make him suck grandpa’s dick.
In fact, Rick was on his knees briefly after setting Morty up, grabbing at a
nearby ring gag. He’d pry open his grandson’s mouth and lodge the ring between
his teeth to hold up his jaw, latching the gag’s straps around the back of his
head.
Rick stared at Morty again a moment before stroking the kid’s cheek and
drunkenly slurring at him as if he could hear, “S-sorry Morty, I know y-you,
you don’t.. you, shit, you think grandpa wants this f-for you? I-I-I do this
for you, baby. I knock you o-out so you d-don’t, you’ll never have.. You’ll
never have to remember any of this, and we d-don’t have to lose what we had.”
Still rambling a bit, Rick stood, stumbling to the camera positioned a few feet
in front of where Morty was now tied up. There was quite a few cameras around
the room than this one, around the ceilings, gathering different angles. This
one was more like a central control system for the room, and with a few button
presses, the cameras were recording.
“I w-won’t have to lose you, if you just, i-if you just let this k-k-keep
happening.” 
And then his pants were on the ground, coat and shirt following quickly after.
Hand already stroking his own dick before he was even in front of Mort again.
If there was one thing about that ring gag, it was the fact Rick could watch
all of that drool dribble out of his mouth and collect around his chin. And
well, maybe the fact that unconscious Morty seemed to just let his tongue loll
out of his mouth, as if it were inviting Rick in. It reminded him of that
escort Morty and when he fucked his mouth. 
“I-if only you were.. awake and, fuck, Morty, if y-you were conscious for this,
y-you’d, I know you’d like it if you just..” Rick spoke to a body with no
answer for him, placing his feet on either side of Morty’s sprawled legs and
sliding his dick through the ring in the gag, right into his Morty’s wet mouth.
“..gave it a chance, fuck,” he practically moaned the rest of his cobbled
together sentence, quickly giving in to the pleasure of rubbing the head of his
cock against the soft tongue.
Rick found his fingers tangling in Morty’s hair, holding his head up and
pulling his grandson’s face into the slow movements of his hips. Rick would
have to be more mindful, knowing Morty’s body wouldn’t react the same way in
this state if it started to suffocate.
“G-god I just want.. want to feel that tongue, y-your lips.. I n-need it,
Morty, I need y-y-you,” he droned on, dick moving in deeper and deeper until
Rick could feel the back of Morty’s throat squeezing around him. Morty couldn’t
respond, couldn’t reciprocate or follow any sort of commands, he couldn’t even
gag.
That lack of any sort of response made Rick dare to see how far he could get
his dick in, yanking on Morty’s hair and forcing him to take the full length
into his mouth until Rick could feel the cold metal of the gag and the warm
drool from Morty on his balls. 
Oh god, it was all the way in. Rick could feel Morty’s throat spasming as his
body naturally tried to suck in air but couldn’t, not with something so large
completely blocking the passage. It felt so fucking good, and Rick’s grip on
Morty tightened the closer orgasm came to rushing through him.
He didn’t want to pull out yet, but he didn’t want to cum either, not so
quickly. 
Still, it was a good thing he dragged himself out with the colors Morty’s face
was beginning to turn. They were both gasping, Rick from trying to keep himself
from losing it and tipping over the edge, Morty from the lack of air. His
little body naturally tried to make up for it, sucking in what it could only to
start coughing when the excess spit was sucked into his lungs. He would be fine
in a moment once his body figured out how to breath again, though it wouldn’t
wake him up.
Morty would be out until morning, no matter what Rick did to him. 
Next Rick would take the ring gag off again, letting Morty retain some of the
liquid in his mouth at least, and give his jaw a break. In a way, Rick cared.
He didn’t want Morty too damaged, though at the same time Rick wanted to be the
person to take Morty apart piece by piece, emotionally and physically. It was
complicated.
The gag was tossed to the floor and Rick found himself sloppily kissing Morty,
pressing against unresponsive lips, soft cheeks, and then down his grandson’s
neck. Rick always had a hard time not leaving hickies, sucking on the skin just
above Morty’s collar bone. Without any noises from the kid, Rick couldn’t tell
how hard he was biting, and left several teeth indents over Morty’s shoulders.
Rick whispered ‘I love you, Morty’ and ‘you’re mine, you’re mine’ between the
lovemarks he decorated his grandson’s body with. 
It was convenient for Rick that Morty always seemed to sleep in nothing but
briefs. It was simple for him to take off the underwear, pulling it off Morty’s
ass and dragging it down his legs until it slipped right off and was tossed
aside with the rest of the clothes. Standing again, Rick unlocked the position
of the spreader bar with the simple flip of a latch, allowing him to raise
Morty up just a bit higher, the bar locking into place again.
This wasn’t specifically why Rick wanted to move Morty, but he still couldn’t
help putting his hands on his grandson’s dick, fingers caressing the underside
of his soft, young balls. They were a bit hairy, certainly, though compared to
what Rick usually saw, they were so smooth and felt so satisfying to touch.
Still untainted by the world until Rick had his hands on it.
As he moved down, Rick dared to place a kiss on Morty’s stomach, then several
down the short hairs that made up his happy trail until he met the head of his
grandson’s still-soft cock with his lips. The kind of affection he could only
really show while Morty was out cold like this. 
Leaning away for the moment, Rick fumbled for the bottle of vodka he had set
down and cracked it open. There was no way he could ever feel drunk enough for
all of this, but he stilled tried, the bottle tipping end up as the man chugged
as much as he could. He only stopped when he couldn’t stand any more of the
taste in his throat and coughed up some of it, slamming the bottle back down.
The tingling numbness of alcohol carved out those nagging feelings of guilt
tugging at the back of his mind and replaced it with an intense need to fuck
the hell out of Morty.
Rick’s staggered and unbalanced movements had him sliding himself between Morty
and the wall he was cuffed to. Morty was high enough to sit in Rick’s lap, the
weight of his grandson laying over his chest and shoulder, the wall helping
keep the old man from falling over.
In one hand, Rick was downing more vodka, the other was groping around for
lube. Rick had tried previous nights to get his dick into Morty without any
lube, to no real avail. As it turns out, Morty’s ass was too tight, and Rick
found any attempts more uncomfortable than actually nice.
Not that he minded the idea of working on stretching his grandson’s hole until
it would accept grandpa’s dick like it were nothing. 
Vodka set aside, Rick wrapped his arm around Morty’s stomach so he could see
where he was pouring the lube. While he was trying to get it into his fingers,
some of it still messily dripped down onto Morty’s legs. Fingers would come
first, to get Morty loose and wet, for now Rick’s dick would sit comfortably
under Morty’s balls, pressing up into him a bit as he got hard just by sliding
his hand under his grandson’s ass and rubbing his lubed fingers around the
opening.
Rick would have to put down the lube just so he could hold up Morty’s ass just
a bit for more access. His fingers easily slid inside, one at first, then the
second one followed quickly after. Morty’s body didn’t really fight back, the
muscles completely relaxed so Rick’s fingers could move in and out almost
effortlessly, coating the hole until it was nice and slick.
He’d curl his fingers as he stroked a couple more times, head laid against
Morty’s arm, watching the kid’s dick twitch a bit in response to him massaging
his prostate. Rick snorted to himself, it would be so easy to drain Morty this
way, milk him until there was nothing left and Morty was painfully empty by
morning. 
It would be easy.. but not what Rick wanted. Not right now.
He slipped his fingers out and shifted just enough to keep Morty sitting on one
leg while he set his own dick free and began stroking himself. It was probably
too much lube that he was starting to squeeze out over the length as he
stroked. Oh well, better safe than not fucking his grandson. 
When his strokes were making satisfying squelches, his dick coated in
lubrication and stiff from excitement, Rick moved his hands to Morty’s hips and
guided the kid’s ass over his dick. Rick’s hips pushed upwards as he lowered
Morty onto him. It wouldn’t take a lot of pressure before the head slipped in,
causing Rick to gasp. It was slippery and he really wished he could feel Morty
tighten around him or hear him whine and scream, but it didn’t stop it from
feeling good as his dick slid all the way inside of that asshole.
Rick had never been this deep inside of his own grandson before. Guilt rose in
time with his deep lust and he could feel his own heartbeat in his crotch,
ringing out against the walls that surrounded his cock. Rick cursed at himself
to shut the fuck up, not wanting to hear what his conscience had to say.
He didn’t care, not while drunk. His teeth found their way onto Morty’s neck as
he began pumping into him, and his tongue and lips left marks that Morty would
have to try and hide later. If only he didn’t hide them with that ugly ass
scarf. If only everyone knew that this was his Morty, that his Rick was fucking
him in the ass and would leave marks that stained on the inside that no one
else could replace but Rick. 
The restraints that held Morty to the wall clattered and strained as Rick
slammed up into his grandson, sending his limp body bouncing by the force.
Nails dug into Morty’s sides and left scratches down his pliable skin. Ricks
breath picked up with his own steady rhythm, groaning into Morty’s ear with
more whispers of “mine, mine, mine.”
Fucking Morty was like an assertion of ownership. Pulling him down onto the
full length of his dick as his entire body shook with the force of his orgasm,
filling Morty as deep as he could go with Rick’s cum was like claiming Morty as
his. Biting down on Morty’s shoulder until he drew blood as he came was like
telling the world who Morty belonged to.
Rick moaned and sighed through the orgasm, reveling in the pleasure of how
fucking good it felt. How good Morty made him feel. How disgustingly amazing it
felt to take advantage of his unconscious body and pull out just to leave his
cum inside. Eventually it would dry and cake the walls of his grandson’s ass,
and Morty might feel uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t really know or rememberwhat
happened to him. But Rick would know.
Exhausted, Rick looked himself over, then Morty. He probably shouldn’t have
done this.
He told himself that every night at this point, it didn’t stop him from doing
it again the next time. But Morty was starting to catch on to just what was
happening to him every night. If Rick had bothered to be more careful, maybe he
could get away with it longer. 
It was only a matter of time before Morty did or said something about what was
happening. At least, that’s what Rick thought about every day. Half of him was
convinced he had to do something about this, the other half convinced there was
nothing to worry about.
As he cleaned himself off next to Morty with a few tissues, Rick had the
alcohol again, sucking down every drop he could force down. He’d dab up the
excess lube around his legs and clean off his dick, his mind elsewhere as he
cleaned up Morty as well.
He’d let his grandson’s wrists free, his body dropping to the floor with a hard
thud. Unconcerned with this, Rick was too busy going through the motions,
moving to the cameras’ controls and shutting them off. 
He’d have another look over the room, wondering why he did this, as he always
did when he was done with Morty.
This time, however, he walked back over to Morty and pulled the kid into his
arms. Sitting against the wall again, this time with Morty lying heavily on his
chest, Rick slowly stroked his grandson’s hair. 
Rick had to carefully go over his options from here on. What now?
***** The Fourth Mistake Might Be Your Downfall *****
Chapter Summary
     Rick drinks and drinks until he's decided to do something especially
     stupid.
     Morty has caught on to Rick's actions and contemplates whether to
     fight back while he discovers a his own method of coping with the
     overwhelming anxiety of knowing everything he never wanted to know
     about his grandfather.
Chapter Notes
     some things I've added into this were at the suggestion of some
     comments I've gotten! thanks as always for your input, guys! I love
     knowing where you want to see things go
Awake.
But where?
Where was he?
Morty couldn’t quite get his thoughts together, everything was hazy. His eyes
would barely open no matter how he tried, so drowsy and weighed down. It felt
as though something was on top of him, holding him down, pinning him like a
heavy weight was laid over his entire body. Morty slowly realized it was
difficult to breath and he gasped and coughed, attempting to desperately suck
in air only to realize his throat was completely dry.
How long had he been out? Half of his body felt numb, he couldn’t move his
limbs. Everything was sore, his head hurt so much he couldn’t think. There was
the feeling of warm breath rolling over his face at a steady rhythm that
matched this strange throbbing in his lower half. Someone was definitely above
him, shifting, moving, and they smelled thickly of alcohol.
Morty was still trying to put the pieces together through the fog in his mind
when a drop of liquid seemed to hit his cheek. He realized it didn’t feel like
this had been the first substance on his face, his skin feeling crusty and
uncomfortable the more he focused on it. He couldn’t figure out what it was,
and tried to open his eyes again to see what was happening.
It worked, even if only a little bit. His eyes felt crusted shut, the liquid
that dropped on his eyelids his only assistance in clearing up and prying his
own eyes open. His vision was blurry and clouded, unable to focus on the figure
above him.
It was.. drool. He finally figured it out. Drool was falling down on him.
Morty frowned deeply at this, scrunching his face in displeasure.
He almost thought he was hallucinating at first, because it seemed like his
grandpa was over him, like it was his hands around his wrists digging into the
skin and aggravating what felt like bruises down his arms. That couldn’t be
right. Rick would never..
Rick would never.. hurt him.
But Morty’s senses were slowly starting to come to him, and he could hear his
grandpa groaning with each movement he made.
“Morty.. M-morty..” was softly elicited from Rick’s mouth. But this wasn’t
sounds of concern, or worry. Rick wasn’t trying to get Morty’s attention, he
was moaning to himself. The sort of noises that indicated pleasure and desire,
with a hint of intoxicated delirium.
Morty stiffened in realization. Memories came back to him like blips of a
dream. He remembered Rick touching him in bed, Rick leaving marks on him for
weeks and weeks, Rick’s arms around him, hands violating him in ways he’d never
been touched before, pain and anxiety and discomfort with no end and no way to
fight back. He remembered finding out Rick was drugging him, the phantom pain
of a needle in his neck and injecting him with who knows what.
This was another blip of brief consciousness, wasn’t it? Morty desperately
tried to hold onto it, hoping he would remember later, expecting may he would
fall asleep again.
Of course, that was the fear talking, and the still heavy feeling in his body.
He could tell he was drugged, which was why it was so difficult to move or feel
anything, but Morty was most certainly conscious.
Rick was touching him, he was aware of that, but still trying to piece together
just how.
The floor below him was cold, certainly not the sort of place someone would
sleep willingly. It likely contributed to the soreness in his body, though
Morty knew it wasn’t the only reason. He wasn’t in his own bed, but couldn’t
quite sort out just where he was. Bright lights shown down overhead, shadowing
Rick just ever so slightly even as Morty’s vision started to focus and settle.
As feeling returned to his lower half, pain began to shoot up his spine. Morty
could feel something being shoved inside of his rear end, something far too
large and painful. His asshole felt a mix between soaked, filthy, itchy, and
chafed. The chafing caused stinging pain as the object slid deep inside, so
deep Morty felt like he had to be splitting apart.
Morty could feel Rick’s bare skin against his own, his legs spread and perched
up on his grandpa’s shoulders. Scraggly, wiry pubic hair rubbing uncomfortably
against his thighs and pressing down onto his genitals. His own body was moving
with Rick’s, hips slamming downwards in time with the searing pain taking over
Morty’s body.
Rick was fucking him. This was certainly clear.
His grandpa’s dick was inside of him, and Morty was never even really sure he
wanted to be fucked in the ass by anyone, let alone his grandpa. The thought
was mortifying, Morty frantically wanted him out out out.
He didn’t know whether to just stay quiet and ride it out again, or do
something, say something.
Morty wanted nothing but for this to end, all of this. There were tears forming
in his eyes at the intensity of the pain, mentally and physically. Rick was
fucking him senselessly. Rick didn’t care about him at all, or how much it
hurt. Rick knew it hurt. No wonder the asshole had to knock his grandson out
just to fuck him.
Morty almost wished he was unconscious again, he’d almost rather that than to
sit here and take the full, agonizing length of Rick’s cock.
It was so hard not to scream, especially as Rick’s pace picked up. Morty could
tell Rick was pulling out all the way to the head just to slide right back in
all the way to the base, their skin meeting and fitting together as Rick’s dick
forced itself as deep as possible inside of Morty. Every inch of it was
excruciating, Morty’s brain turning right back into white static as pain
overwhelmed his sense. His body tightened and squeezed
He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop, as Rick pounded into him at full force,
Morty shrieked, he cried, he started begging with absolute desperation, “Rick,
Rick, Rick! Stop, please, s-s-stop, R-r-rick please!”
Tears were streaming down Morty’s face, and Rick, so enraptured, drunk, and
caught up in his own fantasies, wasn’t even fazed by Morty’s sudden screaming.
Morty pleaded over and over again, and Rick quite literally got off to his
grandson’s pain and sobbing. Rick stopped, certainly, but only because his body
jerked and came inside of Morty with such force he almost collapsed right then
and there. His legs shook, wobbling as wave after wave of pleasure struck him
with each ‘please’ Morty uttered.
“Rick.. R-rick, s-stop, p-p-please,” Morty weakly tried to pull away, still
pinned by Rick. His voice was raspy from obvious dehydration, mouth still dry
since the moment he woke up. He didn’t really understand what was happening,
only that his grandfather’s dick was still inside of him even as Rick laid over
Morty and panted.
Rick had coated Morty’s insides over and over again at this point with his own
spunk, but this time was so ridiculous intense. There was cum leaking from
Morty’s ass and pooling below them both. He always knew he’d love to hear his
Morty beg him to stop. It was hot, disgustingly hot. His dick was still hard
even after that orgasm, and he briefly considered continuing fucking Morty
anyway even as he was sitting here awake.
But some part of him fought it. Even through his drunken stupor, he couldn’t be
that awful. Not yet.
“S-s-sorry Mort,” Rick slurred so hard Morty almost couldn’t understand what he
was saying, “Y-you, you know, you’re not even.. you weren’t supposed t-to wake
up yet. Grandpa’s, he’s not, he’s got plans for y-you still, Morty. He’s got
plans, and w-we’re just gonna put ya right back to sleep, don’t you even, d-d-
don’t even sweat it, dawg.”
Rick really didn’t care. Not at all. And Morty almost didn’t either. Morty
almost resolved to just let Rick knock him out and give in. Anything to make
this full, painful feeling stop.
But as Rick groped around for something, dragging that injector device across
the floor, Morty realized his hands were free. The kid blinked away his tears
and lifted his head to get a better look at what Rick was doing. He watched as
Rick refilled the device without even barely moving. He also watched Rick drop
the device to the floor a couple of times.
Just how drunk was he? This was.. pretty bad.
Morty knew this was a good time to take advantage of the situation. The third
time Rick dropped the device, Morty used every ounce of energy in his body to
lunge forward and grab the device from under him and point it right at Rick’s
chest. He finger twitched on the trigger, trying not to press it just yet.
Rick’s response was slow, processing just what happened and realizing Morty had
the injector loaded and right against his skin. “M-m-morty what the fuck! P-
put, put that down, come on!” Rick put his hands up in surrender, spitting as
he spoke.
Morty shook off and ignored the drops of saliva that hit his face, already
knowing how gross and disgusting his skin felt. Shakily, he demanded, still
crying, “Rick, g-g-get the hell out of me, get out of me right now!”
“Alright, alright!” Rick hissed, but shifted his hips and slowly pulled his
dick of out Morty. It came out with a schlop, excess lube, cum, and even a bit
of blood coming out with it. “L-look, this isn’t.. this isn’t how I wanted y-
you to find out, to.. to know that.. t-to know what I’ve been doing to y-you,
Morty. I n-never wanted this for you. I never wanted to, hurt you.”
“W-w-well, it’s a little late for that, Rick! I already knew! A-and, I’ve, I
am, in so much pain. W-why would you do this to me? To your grandson? I w-
wanted to lose my virginity to, to someone like, like Jessica! N-not you!”
Morty flailed his floppy limbs, trying to get to his knees and nearly falling
over as he choked out his words, “W-why can’t things be normal, Rick? W-w-
why?!”
Rick didn’t move, he let Morty have control of the situation. Despite how drunk
he knew he was, he could feel himself sobering as Morty rambled on. “I don’t
know. B-b-because I’m a disgusting piece of shit, is that, are those the words
you want to hear, Morty? Y-you want to hear about how your grandpa’s a nasty
ass pedophile w-w-who can’t even stop, n-no matter how hard he fucking tries?”
Rick sharply inhaled. He stared Morty directly in the eyes, though his mind
couldn’t really focus on him as he spoke, “M-maybe I don’t want to stop. Maybe
I hate myself. Maybe it’s because I love you and I know you can never love me
back.”
“You’re.. you’re right about one thing,” Morty sniffled, “I don’t love you, a-
and I never will.” He shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.
Rick’s eyes widened, caused by a mixture of pain from the needle sliding into
his skin, and the words that stabbed him deeper than he’d ever realize they
possibly could.
Morty didn’t love him. He knew that, but it was still painful to hear. His
heart felt cold, and then the sedation of the serum took over, calming him. It
lulled Rick into an unconscious state, and he fell over, asleep.
Morty’s hands and entire limbs were shaking. He dropped the device almost
instantly as Rick fell, and for a while, numb, just stared at Rick’s comatose
body.
He was too scared to really look at his own body, not actually sure of what all
was covering him. He thought about all of the showers he would need.
And then he thought of the repercussions this could potentially cause. Rick
would wake up eventually and get back at him. Punish him somehow. He just knew
it. Morty’s breath began to shake with the rest of him, and he was crying
again. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?
Morty considered the thought of killing Rick, prevent anything worse from
happening, make this all stop. But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill Rick.
No matter how much he hated Rick right now, some part was still attached to
him, and he knew eventually his mother would question where Rick was.
No, he couldn’t kill him.
Morty looked around the room. It didn’t take him long to process that this was
one of the rooms down in the bunker below the garage. He’d been down here
enough times to just.. know. It was familiar. There was a pile of empty bottles
of alcohol, though they weren’t the only empty bottles around the room. There
was sex toys, or at least, things that Morty thought seemed like the usual sex
toys Rick had. Strange contraptions on the walls and restraints that Morty
didn’t quite understand or recognize. And.. in the middle of the room, a
camera? A red light flashed on it, indicating it was recording.
Morty crawled towards it, slowly. His arms were sore and weak, struggling to
pull him forward. His legs were shaky and refused to work with him, not moving
how Morty needed them to move. He fell down over and over again, collapsing
weakly on the floor. Exhausted, he’d gave up at some point and just laid with
his face on the floor. His tears had started to dry up and that familiar
numbness that came whenever he thought about Rick touching him was fogging up
his brain again.
It made him want to quit, and just lay on the floor until Rick woke up again.
But he couldn’t, Morty had to keep moving. He had to stop this somehow. Morty
was convinced this camera could be his savior, if he could just get up.
Gaining some strength back and renewed motivation, Morty lifted himself on
trembling limbs, slowly making his way up the camera’s tripod stand. He used it
to brace himself, looking over the complex controls displayed before him. This
wasn’t any sort of normal camera, but that wasn’t surprising if it was Rick’s.
It became clear that this miniature control panel attached to the camera
controlled various sets of cameras around the room and Morty was appalled.
Rick had been recording him, possibly multiple times, like this was a sex tape
to him. Morty felt sick, skeeved out at the idea of his traumatizing
experiences being treated like a movie, like jack off material to his grandpa.
It was terrifying.
Morty was looking for something specific, scanning over the various operations
until he found one pertaining to memory. Heart pounding, he ejected what seemed
like a flash drive and grasped it in his hand. When removed, the cameras in the
room beeped and shut off, their red lights going dark. This allowed Morty some
sigh of relief.
This.. this was evidence.
He wasn’t sure what to do with it yet, but he had it, he had something over
Rick, and that mattered most right now.
Morty, feeling a little steadier, found his boxers strewn across some of Rick’s
clothes and sat down so he could put them back on. He hadn’t realized how cold
he was, especially until he had opted to take his grandpa’s shirt as well and
it covered his body. It was nice to feel less exposed, though he nervously
rubbed his wrists where the bruises were, prominent and very visible.
Just in case, Morty took Rick’s labcoat as well. It was heavy and oversized,
but it covered his wrists and made him feel less naked. He wished it didn’t
smell so much like Rick, but Morty had no other clothes to his name down here.
Rick, still unconscious on the floor, made no effort to stop Morty as he
escaped from the room and climbed the ladder back up into the garage. His tired
limbs almost refused to make the journey, but fear drove him to escape as
quickly as he could and when he reached the surface, he collapsed again on the
garage floor. Relief brought more tears.
It was a lot longer than Morty would have liked before he finally made it
through the garage door and crawled up the stairs to his room. It seemed to be
night time, it was dark in the house and Morty could hear the snores of his
family. He tried to stay quiet, dragging himself across the floor until he was
in his room.
He finally stood, closing his door and locking it shut. That wouldn’t keep Rick
out if he really wanted to chase after Morty, and that was the scariest part.
Even if Morty had this evidence in his hand, even if he gave it to someone,
what could they do? No one could stop Rick, not the police, not his parents,
not even he could. What Morty did was only temporary, Rick would be right back
on his feet.
Morty was helpless.
The lab coat was tossed aside, falling to the floor next to Morty’s bed with a
thunk. Morty fixated on sliding into his desk chair and booting up his
computer. The monitor’s light made his eyes squint, and he rubbed at them, a
mixture of dried up flakes of cum and tears falling off onto his arm and the
floor.
He still didn’t feel completely within his own body, still not really with it.
Maybe whatever Rick used on him didn’t wear off yet, or maybe he was still
blocking out the pain of everything that had happened. It was almost a familiar
friend at this point, that feeling of numbness.
When the computer welcomed him and he typed in his password, Morty slid the
flash drive into a USB slot. As he told the computer to open up whatever
folders were on this thing, his eyes slide down to the time and day stated
neatly in the corner of the screen.
3:44 am, Thursday.
Thursday.
Was he seeing that right?
Morty shook his head, blinked a few times, and stared at it again. The only
thing that changed was the movement of time, another minute passing.
It was Thursday alright.
Morty’s whole body shook. He was pretty damn certain last he remembered, it was
Monday. Monday night when he laid in bed terrified until Rick came in and
knocked him out. How could it be Thursday now?
Unless.. Rick had kept him down there for couple days straight, keeping him
unconscious, drinking and drinking and doing whatever he wanted until Morty had
woke up. Maybe he had been too sloshed, hadn’t realized how long it had been.
Morty realized how lucky he was that Rick made a mistake. He could have been
stuck down there for a long time, for as long as Rick deemed he had to have his
grandson.
Morty was trembling as he clicked through the folders on the screen. He wasn’t
so sure if he really wanted to see just what it was Rick did to him every
night. He clicked through folders of alien pornography, selfies, other Ricks,
photos that were clearly of Rick fucking someone, and.. the folder that held
the videos of his grandpa fucking him. There were other folders in here as
well, which Morty idly clicked through.
He struggled to properly process just what he was seeing. Folder after folder
of.. pictures of him? Morty at school, Morty asleep in bed, Morty with Rick’s
hands on him and his dick out over Morty’s face. This was almost too much for
the kid, he was reeling. Rick was stalking him, and he wasn’t even sure for how
long. Rick was stalking other Mortys, that became clear when it was obvious
that some of these Mortys couldn’t possibly be him. Morty thought he might
throw up at this rate, but he held it down.
There was another folder that seemed like photos Rick didn’t take. The quality
was higher, and the Mortys were posing as if they were in front of the camera
just for the sake of pornography. The thought that anyone would take these, or
sell these at all was disturbing to Morty. The thought that other Mortys would
pose like this for any Rick was horrifying.
Morty wasn’t sure he could look at any of this anymore. He certainly wasn’t
going to watch the videos that included himself, not if he couldn’t even
emotionally handle the photos. He would cry, but he wasn’t sure he even could
anymore at this point.
He yanked the flash drive from his computer, stuck between the idea of
destroying it and going to his parents about it. Then he thought for a moment.
Morty wondered if his parents even noticed his absence the days he was gone. He
didn’t even really have to ask, he knew they didn’t. They never did.
Would they even care if he showed this to them?
Jerry would blame him for sure, Morty was convinced of this. It was Morty’s own
fault Rick did this to him, maybe if he hadn’t gone on so many adventures with
Rick alone maybe he wouldn’t have gotten touched. His mom would find some way
to defend Rick and take his side over Morty’s, it never really mattered what
Rick did. Rick was always the right one and Morty was always the wrong one.
Morty threw the flash drive into one of his desk drawers and shoved it closed.
Wait.
He opened it again, noting something else the drawer held. He pulled out a
complex multitool that Rick had gifted to him a long while back.
Sitting back in his desk chair, he slowly flipped through the different
components, finding the click on pulling one of the tools out and putting it
back satisfying to his brain in his current state of mind. A screwdriver, a
bottle opener, a nail filer, a can opener, tweezers.. a blade.
Morty stared at this particular component for a few minutes, running his
fingers over the unused edge. It was essentially brand new, having never used
it before, so it was definitely very sharp. This was especially clear when
Morty pressed his finger into the blade and drew a bit of blood. He stared
intently as the droplet ran down the knife.
That almost felt.. nice. Satisfying.
It was painful, just a little, but broke the suffocating numbness for even a
brief moment, distracted him from the rest of the pain bearing down on his
back.
His eyes traveled down to the bruises on his wrist, and suddenly, Morty came to
a realization. He understood finally why other people would hurt themselves,
and pressed the blade to his skin.
 
===============================================================================
 
Rick woke up to the sound of obnoxious beeping, shooting up with his hand on
his head, groaning. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, the hangover, the soreness
wracking his entire body, or the migraine that alarm was causing.
A set of monitors had come down from the ceiling, alerting Rick that someone
had gone through the garage door. The door was shut now, as one monitor showed,
though another one had a still screen of Morty rushing through the door in his
labcoat.
“Shut the damn alarm off!” Rick yowled in complaint, to which his computer
system complied and quieted itself. The old man ran his palm down his face,
rubbing at his eyes as if that would rid him of the nausea and pain.
It didn’t take him long to piece everything together, remembering Morty
knocking him out with his own device and apparently stealing his clothes before
leaving. Rick was a damn idiot, Morty was completely aware now of what he was
doing.
Even if the kid probably already knew, something about Morty waking up in the
middle of it had Rick feeling aware and guilty of his own stupid actions.
“Dammit,” Rick sighed out, shoving his legs into his pants and buckling his
belt. He knew he’d have to face this. Rick had to have been out for hours at
this point, who knows what Morty could have done.. by.. now.
As Rick passed it, he realized something was missing from the camera, noticing
the record light was off. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.
The little shit. He had the god damn flash drive!
Rick was sweating as he quickly walked out of the room. He wouldn’t admit to
panicking. Not yet. It depended on just what Morty planned on doing with all of
grandpa’s porn.
He really hoped Morty didn’t look through what he had on there. Rick felt
ashamed of himself at the thought.
First of all, he gathered up a few items, pouring some liquids into a vial
before shaking it up and sucking it down. Drool ran down his face, and he wiped
it away onto his arm. At least that would take care of the hangover, god he
couldn’t deal with this if he had to go through it with a hangover.
Then he was headed up to the garage, shutting off the alarm system before
heading through the door into the household. Everything seemed oddly silent,
save for the TV in the living room indicating Jerry was home and doing nothing
as per his usual schedule. No cops, no Beth here to confront him. Either Morty
showed them and no one cared, or Morty hadn’t shown anyone yet.
Rick was a bit relieved as he moved up the stairs towards Morty’s room.
When he got to the door and attempted to open it, the handle didn’t budge.
Locked.
That was, unusual. Was Morty scared of him? Rick could feel his own heart
breaking and he held a hand to his bare chest.
Insistent on getting in, Rick moved a few steps over and pushed on a hidden
panel in the wall, flipping the whole thing around with Rick included, moving
him from the hall to the inside of Morty’s room. Without skipping a beat he was
moving to the bed where Morty still laid. The kid hadn’t gone to school, he had
just stayed home and slept.
‘Where’s the drive, where’s the drive?’ something nagged at him from the back
of his head, but his first concern was Morty. Looking at him now, far more
sober, Rick could see how disheveled and filthy Morty was, or at least what
wasn’t covered by the sheets. He had done that to him, Rick knew how many times
he had cum on Morty’s face without bothering to wash him up. Why did he do
that? Why did he do this?
He wasn’t entirely sure.
Rick reached out a hand towards the sleeping kid, pausing when his eyes caught
a few stains on the blanket and sheets next to Morty. That was blood. Rick’s
heart started revving up in actual panic now, and he yanked the blanket from
off of Morty. The kid whined quietly in response and Rick had to wonder if he
was just pretending to sleep again.
With the sheets moved, Rick could see what Morty had done to himself, dried up
blood covering a good portion of his arm. No, Morty hadn’t done this to
himself, Rick had drove him to this. To resorting to harming himself. And the
kid hadn’t even turned his grandpa in for all he’d done.
Rick’s entire body felt stiff, he struggled to move from where he was, watching
Morty shiver and tremble. He was alive at least. He wouldn’t have to worry
about that. But seeing Morty terrified of Rick like this was gut wrenching.
Rick had ruined Morty’s life, mental state, and any chance of them ever having
a fun adventure together again. Clenching his fist, Rick turned on his heels
and headed back out of the room the way he came, moving the wall so it faced
the correct direction again as he left.
He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t keep doing this to his Morty. He had to
leave, find another reality, anything but stay here.
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