The portal malfunctioned spectacularly.
One second Rick was yelling "DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL, YOU IDIOTS!"
The next, two swirling green vortexes collided in the garage like drunk drivers on a highway to hell.
When the smoke cleared, there were two Mortys and two Jerrys standing in the exact same spot.
Prime Morty (the Greek-god version from the serum high) — still towering, shredded, cock bulging obscenely against sweat-soaked gym shorts.
Regular Morty — skinny, nervous, eyes wide behind his messy hair, already half-hard just from the proximity of power.
Prime Jerry (the testosterone-fueled, multiversal breeder) — broad-shouldered, veins popping, dick so thick it looked angry even flaccid.
Regular Jerry — paunchy, balding, pajama pants tented pathetically, staring at his upgraded self like he was looking at a porn parody of his own life.
The garage door was locked. Rick had rage-quit to Dimension C-137-B after screaming "I'M NOT CLEANING THIS UP!" Summer and both Beths were off-planet shopping. The house was empty.
Prime Morty broke the silence first.
"…Uh. Hey… other me. And… dads?"
Regular Morty swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed. "This is… this is weird. Right? This is super weird."
Prime Jerry cracked his neck. Voice low, gravelly. "Not weird. Opportunity."
Regular Jerry blinked. "Opportunity for what?"
Prime Jerry grabbed the front of Regular Jerry's pajama shirt and yanked him close. "For you to stop being a fucking loser for five minutes."
He kissed him—hard, possessive, tongue deep. Regular Jerry made a muffled yelp, then melted into it, hands fumbling up Prime Jerry's ripped abs like he was touching a statue that had come to life.
Across the room, Prime Morty looked at Regular Morty and smirked that new, confident smirk.
"You ever wonder what it'd feel like… to be on the receiving end of yourself?"
Regular Morty's face went scarlet. "I-I-I don't… I mean… maybe?"
Prime Morty stepped forward, peeled off his tank top in one smooth motion. Every muscle flexed under golden skin. Regular Morty's eyes dropped straight to the obscene bulge.
Prime Morty hooked a thumb in his waistband and shoved the shorts down. His cock sprang free—long, thick, veined, already leaking. Regular Morty stared like he'd been hit with a truth ray.
Prime Morty closed the distance, grabbed Regular Morty by the back of the neck, and kissed him. Soft at first—almost gentle—then deeper, hungrier. Regular Morty whimpered into his mouth, small hands clutching at massive shoulders.
Prime Jerry had already stripped Regular Jerry naked. The older man's average cock looked tiny next to his double's monster. Prime Jerry spun him around, bent him over the workbench, and spat directly onto his hole.
"Relax, me," he growled. "You're gonna take every inch."
Regular Jerry whimpered. "I've never—"
"You will now."
Prime Jerry pressed in slow—inch after thick inch—until his hips met Regular Jerry's ass. The smaller man cried out, fingers scrabbling at the wood. Prime Jerry didn't pause. He started thrusting—long, deep, claiming strokes that made Regular Jerry's whole body jolt forward.
Across the garage, Prime Morty had Regular Morty on his knees.
"Suck it," Prime Morty ordered, voice calm but commanding.
Regular Morty opened his mouth. The head barely fit. He gagged immediately, eyes watering, but Prime Morty threaded fingers through his hair and guided him deeper. Slow. Patient. Until Regular Morty's nose was buried in trimmed pubes and his throat was bulging.
"Good boy," Prime Morty murmured. "Just like that."
The garage filled with wet, obscene sounds:
Slap-slap-slap of Prime Jerry pounding Regular Jerry's ass so hard the workbench rattled.
Gluck-gluck-gluck of Regular Morty choking on his god-tier double's cock.
Moans—high and desperate from the weaker versions, low and guttural from the Primes.
They swapped.
Prime Jerry pulled out of Regular Jerry's gaping hole, walked over, and shoved his slick cock straight into Regular Morty's mouth. The boy gagged hard—Prime Jerry was even thicker than Prime Morty—but he took it, tears streaming, small hands braced on massive thighs.
Prime Morty moved behind Regular Jerry, lined up, and sank into the stretched hole in one smooth thrust. Regular Jerry howled around Prime Jerry's cock.
"Fuck—fuck—he's huge—"
Prime Morty fucked him mercilessly—deep, punishing strokes that made Regular Jerry's cock leak steadily onto the concrete. Prime Morty reached around, jerked him in time with the thrusts. Regular Jerry came in under a minute—spurting weak ropes onto the floor while his ass clenched like it was trying to keep Prime Morty inside forever.
They kept going.
Prime Morty pulled out, spun Regular Jerry around, and sat on the workbench. He pulled the smaller man onto his lap, impaling him reverse-cowgirl style. Regular Jerry bounced helplessly, ass swallowing every inch, cock flopping uselessly.
Prime Jerry had Regular Morty bent over the same bench now—face inches from where Regular Jerry was getting railed. Prime Jerry slammed into the boy's tight ass in one brutal thrust. Regular Morty screamed, back arching, but pushed back for more.
The four of them synced up—thrusts matching, moans overlapping, sweat and precum everywhere.
Prime Morty came first—buried to the hilt in Regular Jerry's ass, flooding him until cum poured out in thick white rivers down shaking thighs.
Prime Jerry followed seconds later—pulling out at the last second and painting Regular Morty's back and hair with rope after heavy rope.
The weaker versions came again just from the feeling—Regular Jerry untouched, spurting onto Prime Morty's abs; Regular Morty untouched, dribbling onto the bench.
They collapsed in a sweaty, cum-soaked heap on the garage floor.
Panting. Shaking. Covered in each other.
Prime Morty looked at Prime Jerry over the trembling bodies between them.
"…We doing this again tomorrow?"
Prime Jerry grinned—wide, feral.
"Every fucking day until Rick fixes the gun."
Regular Morty, face buried in Prime Jerry's thigh, mumbled something that sounded like "please."
Regular Jerry just nodded, too fucked-out to speak.
The portal flickered weakly in the corner—still broken.
No one moved to fix it.
Somewhere in another dimension, Rick watched the security feed, took a long drag from his flask, and muttered:
"Jesus Christ. I created monsters."
He didn't turn it off.
He just let it run.