When Morty got up the next day, Rick was nowhere to be seen. He actually felt well rested for the first time in weeks, and was able to eat breakfast and catch the bus on time. School passed in a daze. Every class he went to, he was completely lost. His teacher handed everyone's unit tests back for a unit he remembered just starting. How many days had he missed?

They kept him after class and talked about make up assignments. He barely even heard them. At least Mr. Goldenfold was just giving him a passing mark and not asking questions. Morty would have to remind Rick that he had to pass all his other classes too.

Morty felt drained by the end of the day, all his energy of the morning having been leeched away by his social and academic anxieties. He got home and looked around the house. Summer was watching TV and texting. His dad was playing some game on his tablet. Mom was out at the hospital, working late again. Neither family member spoke up when he entered the room.

"H-Hello?" He stammered, annoyed. Both grunted responses that could be assumed to also be a "hello", eyes still trained on their technology. When nothing more was forthcoming, Morty sullenly made for the garage, hope blossoming inside him that Rick might be in there and actually need him for something. Little tears had formed at the corner of his eyes, and he took a moment to wipe at them and breathe deeply, before opening the door.

All his hope and excitement went out with a woosh as he took in the darkened, empty garage. Rick was still gone, and his workbench looked much the same as they had left it the night before. Morty felt his face crumble a little before he got it back under control and went back inside.

"Where's Rick?" he asked his robot family.

"Haven't seen him." Summer replied. Dad didn't even seem to have heard. Morty let out a pitiful sigh as he headed up to his room, glancing back to see if anyone noticed. They hadn't. What am I supposed to do, scream? he thought dejectedly.

Morty flopped down on his bed, bored and lonely and tired. He lay there for a long while, trying not to let his mind think about anything that would make him feel worse. He heard people come upstairs and go into their rooms, and wondered if he had fallen asleep. A glance at the clock confirmed that he had, and he went poking around the house a little.

It was dark and everyone had gone to bed. The garage was still empty. Morty thought about checking Rick's room. After what he saw last night... He blushed deeply. The thought of... interrupting Rick like that again made him feel faint, but his heart was hurting and he couldn't just be alone with it right now.

Soft little footfalls went up the stairs and towards Rick's tiny room. Morty put a hand on the door, breathing too shallow, and rapped lightly. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, with no response. There was no sound coming from inside that he could tell. Gulping, he silently turned the knob, opening the door a crack.

It was empty. Rick's things lay strewn about, messier than usual- paper, pens, a blanket, circuit boards, wires, crystals, and plenty he had no name for. A plastic shopping bag full of scotch sat neatly in the corner, the only thing that didn't look months old or trampled on.

Morty scanned the room with interest, never having spent long enough in there to really get a look at anything. And there, half underneath the cot, was the device. That weird machine he had seen his grandpa using just yesterday. Morty felt unable to stop himself moving forward, towards it. Rick could portal in at any time, his mind screamed at him. He usually portals into the garage, he reasoned. USUALLY?

His hands went out to touch the helmet, pulling it out a little from where it had rolled, running his fingers across the smooth metal dome. It reminded him of the Roy helmet at Blips and Chitz, just more streamlined, less bulky. His hand followed the curve of the metal, along the protruding wires, down to the cylindrical sheath that lay a short ways away. He almost recoiled at the thought of his grandpa's drying cum inside it, but a little prodding revealed the object was completely clean. Morty doubted Rick would've cleaned it. Self-cleaning, he marvelled.

He felt possessed, like he was watching someone else in his body continue onwards, already past the point of no return. His fingers explored the sheath's opening, feeling cool, pliant plastic. It was so soft, and he felt his way inside, pushing around the gel-like padding. As his fingers reached the end, there was a round sort of... thing... at the end, softer than all the rest of it. As he pressed against it, lights came on and he heard a delicate whirr from the helmet. At that moment, the plastic began to heat and moisten around his fingers. Morty jumped back, clutching his hand like something had bit it. His heart was racing. Lights danced along the device, yellow, yellow, yellow, green. It glowed green in the dark of the room and seemed to invite him forward again.

Rick was just as likely to portal into Morty's bedroom as his own, and by now he just had to know what it felt like. His cock was rock hard and he could feel his pulse thrumming through it. He grabbed at himself through his pants and groaned a little, hips making small involuntary movements. What sort of crazy alien porn did Rick even need this thing for? Taking a deep breath, he positioned the sheath above the head of his penis, pressing down lightly on it. The plastic membrane seemed to react to his touch, making way for him as he slid the sheath all the way over his dick. It felt warm and tight, and as soon as he hit the back it came fully to life. The temperature increased and more liquid flowed over his throbbing cock. He shuddered, breathing heavily, worried he might spill just from this sensation alone. Quickly, he thrust the helmet on, and the world went black.

A cool female voice played softly in Morty's ears. "Continue session?" it said. Morty's breath almost caught in his throat. This was more than he expected. He had to hurry in case Rick came home... "Y-Y-Yes." he stammered, shaking like a leaf. The world constructed around his eyes.

Before him was... His bedroom? It was dark, but this was definitely Morty's bedroom. A cold feeling of dread hit settled deep in Morty's stomach. Why was this... And then he saw, on the bed, himself. A trembling, sobbing version of himself, sprawled belly-first on his bed. He was clutching the sheets pitifully, clumsily drawing them around his nakedness. Now Morty could tell he was speaking too, very quickly, almost too quiet to hear. "I'm s-s-s-sorry Rick, p-p-please, I'm sorry..." Over and over.

Morty felt like he was going to be ill. He backed up without thinking and bumped into the wall. Morty on the bed flinched a little at the sound. The sheath gave a little jolt at the sight of fake-Morty's terror, and he felt a reluctant sort of lust mingle shamefully with his revulsion. "Shut down!" he cried, shutting his eyes tightly. Tentatively, he reached up and pulled the helmet off.

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled languidly from behind where Morty sat shaking on the floor, "W-what do we ha-UURP-ave here?"