
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12207081.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Evil_Morty/Rabbit_Morty, Morty_Smith/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Evil_Morty_(Rick_and_Morty), Rabbit_Morty_(Pocket_Mortys), Other_Ricks_
      (Rick_and_Morty)
  Additional Tags:
      selfcest, mortycest_-_Freeform, Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Evil_Morty
      feels_nothing_lol, He's_the_worst, Poor_Bun
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-28 Words: 1207
****** Same Old Story ******
by drrkrbbt
Summary
     ...just Mortys fucking Mortys.
                                       *
 
Its tail twitches when Morty touches it. That’s cute. He touches it again, and
the tail twitches again. Cute. Morty is gripped by a strong urge to squeeze it,
so he does so. The fur is fluffy and soft, even softer than it looks. Morty can
feel the tail twitching in his grip. He tugs it. Then he tugs it again, harder.
The bunny whimpers.
          “W-what are you gonna do to me?” the bunny asks him, twisting a bit
to look over its shoulder. Big hazel eyes meet his gaze. They’re exactly the
same color as his eyes. The face is furry like the rest of the body, white and
brown. The brown is the same shade as Morty’s hair. Even though Morty has seen
all kinds of Mortys, this one is special. He has never seen a Morty like this
one. Maybe that’s why it gets him so hard?
          “Just relax,” Morty drones. He’s not used to feeling this kind of
excitement. He lifts the fluffy tail up, pushing it out of the way to expose
the pink, puckered hole hiding beneath it. It’s nestled in the white fur,
tightly clenched and inviting. Morty can hardly wait. He reaches out with his
free hand to cup the small, furry scrotum hanging between the soft thighs. The
bunny whines. The fur here is warm and even softer, delicate. Morty gives the
testicles a squeeze, feeling how the sack tightens in his hand.
          “I-I really don’t know a-about this!” the bunny whimpers, trying to
pull away, but Morty’s grip on its tail keep it from moving too far away on the
bed.
          “You don’t need to know,” Morty says. “Just keep quiet.”
          He squeezes the furry, little sack again. The bunny whimpers. Morty
strokes two fingers up the bunny’s abdomen, tracing the soft mound on the lower
part of its belly. The penis is hidden away in there, but not for long. Morty
can feel the shaft swelling and hardening inside the sheath. A tiny part of him
likes that the bunny is enjoying itself, another part enjoys that the bunny is
so ashamed of it, but the bigger, dominant part of him doesn’t give a shit
about the bunny or how it feels. He fingers over the bulging mound a bit
longer, then withdraws his hand.
          The lubrication makes the fur around the bunny’s anus shine and clump
together in sticky messes around the pink, hairless circle. Morty’s penis
hardens at the sight. It’s like the wetness enhances the pink of the hole, and
it makes the whole thing feel even more filthy. Morty can’t help but wonder if
his own asshole is this pink.
          “Pl-please.” The bunny is crying now. Those big hazel eyes are
blinking out tears that cling to the curry cheeks, drawing dark streaks on
them.
          “Hmm?” Morty is busy opening his slacks. He’s not listening to the
bunny. “Don’t talk.”
          “Please!” the bunny whines, and it twists around in the expensive
sheets. It thinks that maybe if Morty is looking at its face, he will be more
sympathetic. It should know better, though. Any Morty who’s ever had a Rick
knows that sympathy is for the weak. Morty learned that a long time ago. Morty
almost wishes he could feel sorry for it.
          “I-I don’t want this,” the bunny cries, shuffling closer to Morty on
its knees. The whiskered snout is dripping. It sniffles. “Please? We’re both
Mortys. M-mortys should stand together, right? This is not right, you know!”
          Morty sighs. It’s not that the begging is turning him off—in fact,
it’s only getting his penis harder—but while his brain is extraordinary for a
Morty, his physique isn’t, and he’s really dislikes physical violence. At least
when he has to engage in it himself anyway. So he glances at the Ricks standing
guard by his door. It’s fine. They’re chipped, and they will do whatever he
tells them to. He nods at the weeping bunny.
          “N-no! Come on, Morty, pl-please!” the bunny whines when the Ricks
grab it and flip it over. Its pleading is muffled when its face is pressed into
the mattress. The Ricks hold it there, face down and ass up. That tail is still
twitching when Morty pushes his dick into the pink, slicked hole.
          The bunny howls into the mattress, jerking and struggling to pull
away, but the Ricks hold it in place. The long, fluffy ears are splayed on the
cotton sheets. This feels a lot better than Morty had imagined it would. Is
this his first time? He doesn’t honestly remember. He runs his fingers through
the soft fur that covers the bunny’s buttocks and lower back. His grabs
fistfuls of it as he pulls the bunny backwards, further onto his cock with a
soft groan.
          “Mmmh geez, fuck…”
          He hasn’t enjoyed anything in so long, he almost doesn’t recognize
the sensation.
          “Look at me,” he orders the two Ricks, and they do as he says. Their
expressions are blank, because Morty hasn’t given them permission to display
any kind of emotions. He locks eyes with the one that has a bruised lip. He
gave the Rick that bruise yesterday. He wants to bruise the other Rick, too.
Maybe he will when he’s done with this silly rabbit.
          “Pl—please,” it whimpers when Morty starts thrusting. This feels so
filthy, so totally not okay. It’s exactly what Morty wants. He has changed his
mind; he doesn’t want to enjoy it, and he doesn’t want the bunny to enjoy it
either. He wants them both to hate it, but do it anyway, because nothing means
anything anyway. Right? That’s what Rick taught him. If nothing means anything,
then why shouldn’t he be raping a bunny version of himself?
          “Be quiet,” Morty tells the bunny and yanks its ears hard enough to
make it squeal. “Quiet.” He yanks hard again, and this time the bunny is quiet,
except for muffled sobs into the sheets.
          “You’re going to be just f—mm’fine,” Morty tells it, and it annoys
him that his voice trembles. Damn it, he doesn’t want to enjoy this. “You need
to learn not to let anyone hurt you or upset you. It’s—it’s high time we Mortys
took responsibility for ourselves, and not—ah!”
          Morty doubles over and shudders when he comes. His stamina isn’t
great apparently. The bunny is trembling under him, clenching and unclenching
around him. Its tail is twitching. When Morty pulls out and pushes the bunny
around to lie on its back, he sees that the bunny’s penis has slid out of its
sheath. It’s all pink and slick-looking. It doesn’t look appetizing at all.
          “Disgusting,” Morty grunts, and the bunny instantly covers its
genitals with its fluffy paws. It is probably blushing under the fur.
          “Take it back to the cell,” Morty tells the two silent Ricks as he
crawls off the bed and sheds the rest of his clothes. “Don’t let it wash
itself. I want it to stink of me so the others know what it’s done.”
          The bunny cries as the Ricks drag it away, fur sticky with spunk and
tears. Morty should have climaxed on its face for everyone to see. Maybe next
time.
 
                                       *
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