author's note:

Heya peeps who are actually reading this,

Well, I'm not that hell of an introduction writer so imma make this real quick. I mean, who even wants to read these?

"..." means talking, obv.

"licklicklickmyballs" - Stuff written in italics means either noises or thinking, depending on the context.

By the way, I will write out every stutter and every burp, mainly because I think it's creates a relaxed atmosphere & it makes the story more lively.

I may also make some author's notes or disclaimers at the beginning of the story but these will be marked clearly.

This story contains bad language, implied incest coughcough, evennnntually smut & other 18+ things yada yada so do NOT read this unless you're waaay OVER 18 I MEAN IT!

No, but seriously, if you're uncomfortable with any of the topics listed above, leave now or continue reading at your own risk, I warned you. Also, don't hate, dawg, everyone has their favorites.

This story is not going to be interactive, but I am always searching for new inspiration so if you have a dank idea, just hit me up through PM.

All rights reserved to Dan Harmon/Justin Roiland. The scenarios mentioned in this story are just scenes crossing my mind when I have too much time. Also DISCLAIMER: Spoilers considering the entire season 3 can occur.

Ugh, way too long for a side note but yea, have fun reading~

BTW: I know this idea may not be very creative as many of us might have asked ourselves "What is inside all those other vessels?" and I am deeply sorry if this idea has already been published once. Truth is, I am registered since yesterday, never read anything on this site before and also I've already written this story like weeks ago.

"Mnnh."

A short, quiet, unrecognizable mutter filled the room, abruptly throwing Rick back into space and time after he has been focussing on repairing the broken memory eraser for about the last hour.

The noise was Morty.

Morty Smith. Morty Smith C-137.

The same Morty Smith who threw a house party for his eighteenth birthday yesterday although Rick had told him multiple times not to, owing to Morty's occasional sloppiness and habit of drinking A) way over his tolerance level and B) getting drunk way too fast and probably passing out a couple minutes later as a result. Well, that's basically what happened a few hours ago.

Rick rolled his eyes, seemingly pissed off. Someone must have stepped on his tool and now essential pieces got lost somewhere in yesterday's party mood.

"Dammit", he snorted and threw it on the floor senselessly, alongside the other trash that has not yet been cleaned up and probably won't any time soon.

"Well, fuck this".

Now Morty began to open his eyes slowly, the feeling of his eyelids still slightly sticking together made him feel gross.

"R-Rick? What…" – he looked around, clearly unable to remember most of what happened yesterday night – "What happened?" he asked, still confused, barely able to sit up without his dizzy, heavy head forcing him back into horizontal position.

Rick took a quick sip out of one of the leftover liquor bottles.

"What I already pre-urp-dicted. Y-you wanted to be cool because you turned eighteen so you threw a party but got hella wa-urp-sted and passed out. As the g-god of grandpa that I am, I threw your dipshit ass on the couch and had some fun with the rest of your guests" he answered with a monotone undertone, as if he could not care less.

"Oooh man. That doesn't sound ideal". Morty grabbed his head and his hand went through his matted hair. His thoughts were spinning and his whole skull ached. His stomach felt like turned upside-down.

"Yeah but d-do-urp-n't worry. I have already erased all the bad memories after you passed out s-so that they won't catch you later and leave you with even more self-embarrassment than you certainly already have. But some of your damn ch-child-fucker friends must have stepped on it. It's broken". Rick stared past Morty while saying this, leaning back in the couch. His voice sounded unimpressed, as usual.

"Oh, well. Thank you then, I guess, g-g-grandpa Rick", Morty stuttered, not exactly sure whether or not it was the right thing to thank Rick for that. But that is just how Rick works. He always wants the approval and most importantly – he wanted Morty to admit that he was more than damn right about how bad this idea was. I mean, to him he was probably just a Morty. What a waste of time to think clever ideas could come from such a dumb mind.

"Save it" – he snapped.

"You'll m-make up for that some time" – he paused shortly in order to take another drop – "When I need a protective shield during an intergalactic combat or something"

Without paying any further attention to Morty or even giving him time to answer, Rick stood up, took a final sip and left Morty behind within the silence of before.

As the day went by, Morty's overall condition has eventually gotten better and he started getting curious.

What really happened last night? What bad, nasty memories was Rick trying to keep from him?

Knowing his grandfather well enough, Rick was a very structured and organized person. He just has to be or he'll probably lose himself, with all the other stuff racing through his mind in seconds combined with the excessive drinking. He would store everything right where it belongs. So, following the logic, erased memories must be all stored in that one room underneath Rick's lab. That room where Morty initially found out that Rick was, at least a bit, in control of his mind.

Fortunately, Rick fell asleep upstairs, meaning Morty could easily sneak into his laboratory.

Let's see what's down here…

He opened the hatch and climbed down the small ladder silently. Then he entered the room for the second time in his life and he was stunned.

Rick was in possession of so many secrets. Morty's secrets.

Morty stood there in silence for a few minutes in order to grasp a few thoughts.

He felt twisted about it. On the one hand, it felt strange to have someone deleting everything you ask them to – or just simply everything they want you to forget. Using you, controlling you, or maybe guarding you?

But on the other hand, the thought of Rick being in possession of his secrets gave him hot chills. Morty has already been aware for some time that, to him, Rick wasn't just his grandpa anymore. There was more.

It was like Rick was not only in possession of his secrets anymore, but furthermore he was also in possession of him – of Morty on a whole. Rick could manipulate him, use him, do whatever the fuck he likes best at the moment, whatever his dark, fucked-up mind desires. And Morty, Morty wouldn't be able to do a thing besides simply being exposed, vulnerable, naked. Being Rick's puppet, attached to strings. To obey. Bent underneath his crazy ideas. Without noticing, Morty started to salivate.

But then he shook his head quickly to help getting rid of these daft ideas. As if Rick would even waste a thought on him. He practically uses every possibility he can get to embarrass Morty or make sarcastic comments.

Besides the one's he has already seen, there were some new vessels and one that said "18th birthday". Rick couldn't have made it more obvious here, almost as if he was not even trying to put in the effort to hide it.

Morty still felt a bit dizzy as he sat down into what looked like a stolen dentist's chair. Carefully, he placed the heavy helmet, which main function it was to display erased memories, on his head. The minute the helmet settled in, Morty's upper body leaned back automatically, every muscle of his entire torso relaxed in one second and his eyes started rolling back. There was no going back now.