Remember, this is all for fun!
We make a conscious effort to not take this too seriously.
I'm sure you can tell when we're just fucking around. :b

A young man's fingers gripped the edges of a piece of paper that was mailed to his home, trembling ever so slightly as his eyes glided along the paper, taking in all of the information that was laid out before him. His breathing was shallow as he was trying to figure out exactly what to say, a bit dumbfounded as he was stuttering over his words. The name at the top of the paper: Morty Smith. Slowly his pupils went down the list that was provided to him, name and all. It was a line of the letter "B." The edges of his lips curled into a giddy smile as he threw his hands up triumphantly, screaming up at the ceiling.

"YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

A certain white-haired individual lifted an eyebrow, wondering what exactly Morty was celebrating so earnestly for. Not curious enough to care, he'd shrugged and returned to his crazy science-related shenanigans. From the kitchen, Beth had walked over behind Morty, very much wondering why Morty was celebrating as well. Her eyes caught sight of what appeared to be a report card from the school. Keeping that in mind, she'd rolled her eyes before returning to the kitchen to pull out a bottle of wine and an accompanying glass. She hadn't understood why the boy was so happy over straight "Bs." Little had she known that she was going to discover why shortly. Morty followed her to the kitchen, trying to hold the paper to her face. She was visibly annoyed.

"Mom, look, my grades have gotten a lot better! Maybe I'll be able to get into college!"

There was a bit of a grimace on Beth's face as her son mentioned that. Immediately reading his mother's look, his brows furrowed in his own form of anger and annoyance. He worked hard to get his shit together enough at school that going on Rick's little excursions didn't mean absolute failure. He'd managed to pull himself up by his bootstraps and prove to everyone that he wasn't just going to be another pretty face. His mother being a bit of a bitch about it wasn't going to stop him from continuing on the next step in his life. She didn't even look at him. No, he wasn't going to just sit back and take it anymore. It was time to stand his ground.

"What, Mom? Don't think I can do it? Everyone says that I'm ss- 'stupid' and 'slow,' but I'm not! I'm tired of the bullshit! You and D-Dad have always been holding me back, and for what?! Rick, he-he's… he's the only one who's been giving me a chance!"

"Well, Morty, I don't want to waste anyone's time or money. I don't make enough to get you through college - I already have enough trouble with Summer. God knows your father isn't helping... " She paused briefly to take a small breath and speak in a soft whisper,"He never really has, honestly…" Immediately after, she followed with, "So, no. I don't think you can do it, Morty."

"Oh, come on! I-I-I'm getting good grades now! I can get scholarships!'

"Do you think you can, Morty? Those are always super competitive. Can you keep up with everyone else? All of those people who have better grades, or those athletes who can play professionally?"

"There's always a way, Mom! Y-y-you're just being a bitch now! If you aren't going to help me, I-I can find a way to do it myself!"

"MORTY!"

Before she could even turn around to face him, he'd already stomped off to his room. Sighing softly, she'd just taken a sip of her wine and went back to her day, paying it no mind. Neither of them had realized that Rick was just around the corner, lifting an eyebrow with a bit of intrigue at the situation and silently following Morty up the stairs. By this point, Morty had already slammed the door and locked it. Taking his flask out of the side pocket of his coat, Rick lifted it to his lips and tilted it to allow alcohol to fill his mouth, drinking it down with ease before resealing the flask and nestling it back into its rightful place. He used the back of his fist to lightly rap against the wood.

"Hey, M-Morty, I can give you a ssss-solution to your pro - buuurp - lems."

From behind the door, Morty screamed back at the old man, not wanting to see his face or deal with his drunken shenanigans right now. It simply wasn't a good time.

"Go away, Rick! I don't want to hear about or be a part of your s-s-schemes! I don't want to do shady stuff like you R-Rick!"

"We can make the money easy Morty, and then you'll have plenty extra. It's not like this is a few schmeckles. We can score for life, Morty."

"Look, we've done some bad shit in the past, Rick. I don't want to drag that into my personal life. I don't need it following me here. We're already criminals everywhere else!"

"That hasn't been a problem before - urp - and it won't be a problem now, Morty!"

As he said that, though, Morty didn't respond. Rick groaned with annoyance as he balled his hand into a fist and slammed it on the door a few times with enough force to lightly shake the walls.

"D-Don't ignore me, y-you piece of shit!"

Silence. Rick was about to slam his fist against the door again, but decided against it, remembering how alcohol always made him emotional and irrational. If Morty wasn't going to go with his plans to make easy money, maybe it wasn't worth the time and the effort. Without another word, Rick had turned on his heel and headed towards the garage. There were more important things for him to distract himself with than this garbage.

- A Few Months Later -

Everyone was out of the house - Beth had taken Summer and Morty out for a day since Summer was back from college for the summer, and this was Morty's last summer as a high schooler. The only person unaccounted for in regards to that was, of course, Rick. The old man was tinkering with a few of his trinkets in the garage, curing Space AIDS one cell at a time, making sure his neutrino bombs weren't exploding, just science things. Looking around the garage for one of his disarming instruments, though, he had a bit of trouble finding it. Not only was it not in its usual spot, there was also a distinct lack of it on the shelf, in the boxes, or really anywhere in the garage. It was around when he'd finished looking around the garage that Rick had realized that Morty had mentioned at one point how familiar he was with disarming Rick's neutrino bombs. A bit of a snarl found its way out of Rick's throat and he'd made his way to Morty's room, kicking the door open without a hint of thought and began digging through the drawers.

"That f-fucking kid, always taking my sh-sh-shit and -"

He'd stopped a bit in his tracks as he was pulling all of the underwear out of one of the drawers. There was something off about it… Rick began to feel along the bottom, noticing that it was… loose. A false bottom. Tossing the rest of the undergarments out of the drawer and lifting up the false bottom, Rick's eyes were filled with green. Morty had a good amount of money tucked into the false bottom - several thousands if he wasn't mistaken. More than enough if Morty had wanted to go to the local community college.

"That sneaky cunt. How did you do it, huh Morty?"

Rick placed the false bottom back in carefully, along with returning the clothes to their rightful spots, looking around the room and immediately eyeing Morty's newly acquired laptop. He'd wondered why Morty needed something so sleek and new, since he'd gotten it relatively recently. Of course, he'd figured that the kid had gotten into playing video games like anyone else his age, or using it to download the highest quality porn. But maybe there was something else after all… There was a smooth movement as Rick had taken a seat in Morty's chair and opened the laptop up, being welcomed with a password screen. Clicking on a tab that allowed the old man to see the password hint, he'd lifted an eyebrow and typed in the password that he'd known Morty used on his old laptop. Welcome, Mortimer.

"Same password? Poor form, Morty. Poor form."

It only took a few clicks and a couple of keystrokes as Rick had started looking through Morty's internet history. It was blank. At least his grandson wasn't that stupid. But things like that were easily fixable. With several additional keystrokes and a few nifty tricks Rick knew from his old days with messing with computers, Rick had pulled up a list of Morty's recently deleted history. Chat-turbation? Masturbation With Friends? What the fuck was this? A few more keystrokes and Morty's intentions were made clear. He wasn't downloading high quality porn. Morty was the high quality porn. There was a strange sensation filling his loins. One that Rick hadn't known for quite some time. It seemed that the idea what his grandson was a camboy was getting him hard.

Upon this realization, Rick had taken down Morty's username information, and closed out everything that proved that he could have been there. Quickly moving over to his own room and turning on his desktop, Rick made an account on Masturbation With Friends and immediately followed Morty's account. There were several sample clips of Morty's previous shows and Rick had easily hacked his way into a premium account, allowing him to watch the entirety of the clips. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed. All he knew was that his cock was throbbing for his grandson and he needed to settle it fast. For the next few hours, Rick found himself stroking off to his grandson doing a various number of things on camera for the countless number of perverts on the internet. Scenes of him riding dildos, stroking his cock with socks, wearing stockings - the list was endless. It seemed he was making quite a pretty penny, as well…

What Rick was focusing on in particular was the sight of Morty's ass cheeks spread out in front of the camera. There was a soft pink color to the anus that Rick only really noted on virgin boys and knew that he wanted that hole for himself. There was a certain level of jealousy that filled him when Morty began stuffing the tightness into the hole, the anal opening spreading to engulf the length of the banana into Morty's body, a loud moan filling Rick's headphones as he groaned in tune with it. The young boy began to pump the yellow fruit into himself, Rick pretending that that banana was - in fact - his dick.

"F-F-Fuck, stuff that fucking - buuuurp - banana into your ti - ah - ght hole you s-s-slut! FFFFFUUUU-"

There was a stream of hot jizz that sprayed out onto his computer screen, coating the image of Morty's puckering hole with white. His release was accompanied by heavy breathing, leaning back in his chair as he groaned his pleasure, an idea popping into his brain as it recovered from the addling effects of orgasm. Rick sloppily wiped the screen off and moved the mouse furiously along, clicking several links and eventually finding his goal. Morty had a schedule that he followed. The next show was… tomorrow.