Watch Your Drink


Back to Main Page

Back to Female Stories

Cara was disgusted.  “Don’t you know any better than to let someone else get you a drink?  Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to accept anything that has already been opened?  What are you, new to the scene?”  The dead weight dragging behind her did not answer with anything more than a quiet groan.  “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” Cara mumbled, half to herself, half to the young woman she tugged along by an arm.  “Ruining my fun, taking me away from the party.” 

Chelsea, for that was other girl’s name, only responded with a pair of soft sneezes. “Hehh… Het-shooo! Shoo!”  Bleary-eyed and half-numb, she rubbed at her itching nose, which was now tinged pink from its recent activities. 

Cara did not bother to bless the stranger, instead pulling her out the front doors and into the parking lot, her baggy Raver’s pants billowing slightly.  “You’re a danger to yourself, do you know that?” she hissed, the evening wind raising an ocean of goose bumps on her bare shoulders and arms.  Dozens of bracelets, known as “Raver Candy” hung on each wrist, no longer glowing after the change from the black lights of the party to the cool moonlight in the slightly cloudy sky. 

Unlocking the passenger side door, Cara roughly pushed Chelsea inside, closing the door behind her, before slipping into the driver’s seat and locking the doors.  As the engine started, she reached over and buckled up the girl, who looked more and more comatose. 

“You’re just lucky I found you before he came back to have his way,” Cara commented, though her words were lost on the slumped figure with the glassy blue eyes.  “Eh, well.  This should teach you.  Not that you’re even listening, but I’m going to take you back to my flat and make sure you don’t do anything stupid while you’re getting the rest of the drugs out of your body.  Stupid git.”  The last words were said almost affectionately, as if Cara felt protective of her new charge.  Her thoughts wandered to the earlier part of the evening as she drove quickly but safely down the highway.


Swirling lights accompanied pounding music, the beat working its way into her body, even pulling her heartbeat along with it.  Mmm, the natural high of Raving.  Synchronized, she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the ebb and flow of the blood, of the torrent of emotions that flooded her mind with shards of brilliant colours.  It was during a break between songs that she looked up and saw the girl, dressed entirely in black, solicitously accepting a Styrofoam cup that supposedly contained punch or water, from a handsome young man with very spiky blonde hair. 

Cara wouldn’t have looked twice, but her interest in the male made her follow him as he returned to a group of laughing guys, their arms folded over their chests, their expressions almost cruel.  One pointed, snickering; another mimed dancing, then passing out.  Cara didn’t need any further evidence; she quickly found one of her friends, a rather chesty blonde with exotic eye makeup. 

“Hey, Sherrie.  Could you do me a favour?  I need you to distract that group of guys for about five minutes.  I think they put Roofies in that girl’s drink, and it doesn’t look like she’s with anyone tonight who could bail her out.”

“I’m right on it,” Sherrie said, adopting a seductive, slinking walk as she approached the still-laughing group of guys.  Within thirty seconds, their eyes were glued to her as she tossed her hair, ran her hands along her hourglass figure, and swung her hips suggestively.

In the meantime, Cara found the girl and unceremoniously grabbed the cup from her hands, sniffing at it experimentally.  Roofies were odorless, colourless and tasteless, but she could at least find out what they paired it with, if anything.  Probably E, and a good dose of alcohol.  As the girl stared at her, apparently disbelieving, Cara dipped her pinky into what was left on the bottom of the cup, then sucked her finger lightly. 

Immediately, she made a face.  “Long Island Iced Tea, I think,” she mused aloud, “and probably a good many other things.  Come on; let’s get you out of here.  Between the Roofies and the alcohol, it won’t be very long before you hit the floor, and I really don’t think you want that pack of wolves taking turns with you.”

Chelsea began to protest, but Cara was a good four inches taller, being 5’8”, and had a good deal more muscle from gymnastics back in her high school days. In the end, Chelsea didn’t really have a choice.  By the time Cara found the exit doors out of the main party room and into the side party rooms, Chelsea had already began to slump a little. By the time Cara found her way out of the Rave rooms and into the hallways that led out of the abandoned warehouse, Chelsea was mostly dead weight. 

Cara hoped that Sherrie was doing okay back in there, but she needn’t have worried; her friend could hold her own. Sherrie was in fact getting names and addresses, under the pretense of flirting, so she could call them on the carpet for their heinous (and illegal) behaviour.


A pair of hushed sneezes brought Cara’s thoughts back to the present, and she glanced over at the crumpled figure whose head rested against the glass of the car window, a small circle of fog visible from her breathing.  Cara valiantly suppressed the pleasurable chill that attempted to scurry down her spine at the sound of the sneezes, instead forcing herself to remember how her fun evening was cut short by the stupidity of a stranger.  Now was not the time to get all hot and bothered.

Pulling into the driveway, Cara parked the car and disentangled Chelsea from the seatbelt, locking the car and half-carrying her into the modest flat.  Once they were through the heavy oak door, she locked it behind them, fastening both dead bolts and extinguishing the exterior light. 

She rested Chelsea gently against the wall and took a moment to collect her thoughts.  With one bedroom, a living/dining room, a tiny kitchen and a small washroom, it wasn’t much, but it was home.  The couch would probably be the best place to put the stranger for now, while she fixed a few things and tried to tidy up a bit.  It wasn’t that she cared what her guest would think of her messy flat; rather, she needed to be able to move around freely without being ankle-deep in fantasy novels, half-written stories, and video game systems.

Cara managed to get Chelsea to the couch, quickly pushing the piles of loose-leaf paper onto the floor, and laid her out on her back.  Leaning over her to position a cushion under her head, Cara jumped in surprise at the light mist of twin sneezes from the girl:  “Ehh… eht-shoo! Shoo!!”

Wiping off her face with her bare arm, she tried to smooth the cotton of her spaghetti-strap top, regretting her decision to forgo the bra, as her nipples poked proudly through the dark blue fabric.  At least the girl was mostly passed out, Cara thought ruefully, thankful for the time to get her body under control.

In the kitchen, she took a loaf of white bread out of the fridge and put a few slices on a plate, pairing it with a tall glass of cool, fresh water.  When Chelsea was awake enough to eat and drink, she needed to absorb the cocktail of drugs with the bread, and help wash it out of her system with the water. 

In the meantime, leaving the food on the kitchen counter, Cara slipped into her bedroom and removed all of her Raver Candy, placing it in a black box atop her cherry wood dresser and examining herself in the full-length mirror behind her door.  “My, but you do look lovely this evening,” she teased herself, laughing at the tall, lanky figure with the modest breasts and narrow hips, her green eyes wide and smiling.

“She’s not your playmate,” Cara reminded herself aloud, trying to talk herself out of trying anything with the inebriated girl.  “You didn’t rescue her just to take advantage of her.”  Oh, but she looked so good, so soft and pale.  Chelsea’s ebony locks, most likely dyed, framed her ghostly pale face, and dark purple eye shadow accentuated eyes so blue they were nearly indigo.  In a short black skirt, fishnet hose, and a black satin camisole, she looked good enough to eat, a thought that had most definitely occurred to Cara.

Taller, and more muscular, Cara peered through a fringe of blue bangs and rubbed her tongue ring along the roof of her mouth as she often did whilst thinking.  She did, unfortunately, have standards, so unless the girl suddenly became fully aware and quite suggestive, nothing would happen.  Which isn’t to say that she didn’t *hope* something would happen.

Taking off her shoes and sliding out of her baggy Raver’s pants, she folded them neatly and set them on the floor, before rummaging around in her overflowing laundry basket.  Full of clean clothes that she had yet to fold, it looked like a mountain of fabric that might decide to conquer her bedroom at any moment.  After a few minutes of searching, Cara found her favourite pair of loose, cotton pajama pants and pulled them up her sculpted thighs, resting them comfortably on her hips.  There.  Now to check on that girl.


Returning to the living room, Cara found the girl half-awake and struggling to sit up on the couch, her silky black hair falling into her face.  Cara tried not to laugh.  Instead, she helped Chelsea into a sitting position and sat on the couch next to her, watching her charge with bemused interest.

“Where am I?” Chelsea mumbled, looking around with a dazed expression, one hand coming to rub at her eyes, effectively smearing the violet makeup. 

“This is my flat.  I know it’s not much, but it’s home to me,” Cara replied simply.

“Why am I here?”

“Because you’re stupid,” Cara began, then sighed and amended her statement.  “Because you took that drink from that guy, remember?  No, you probably don’t, since I’m sure he put Roofies in it.  Anyway, that guy spiked your drink, and he and his friends looked like they wanted a piece of you, so I thought I’d better come to your rescue.”  Here she smiled slightly.

“Oh,” Chelsea said, looking at her hand, which now sported a purple sheen from her eye makeup.  “That explains my nose.”

“Your… nose?”  Cara eyed her incredulously, ready to chalk it up to drug-induced delirium, until Chelsea sniffled a few times and brought her slender hands to her face.  “Yeah, my noo… ehhh... Eeeisshoo! Shooo!  Ehhh… Eht-ShooOOO! ShoooOOO!  Ugh.  By dose.”

Cara concealed a shiver and nonchalantly folded her arms over her chest, hiding her pert nipples and secretly biting the inside of her cheek.  “Oh.  Your nose.  Um… why?”

“Becuz I’b allergic do barbs.  Barbidurads.”  Sniffling in a failing attempt to get rid of the stuffiness, Chelsea looked desperately at Cara, as if begging for a Kleenex or a tissue or something.

“Oh, barbiturates.  You’re allergic to downers?”  That explained the sneezing, and confirmed Cara’s strong suspicion about the Roofies.  “In that case, I think I’d better get you a box of tissues.  I’m sure I have one around here somewhere.”

Cara disappeared below the edge of the couch, tossing stacks of papers and several paperback books to the side, mumbling to herself about getting organized and keeping things clean, and the idea of a paging system for everything.

“Ah, tissues.”  She emerged triumphantly, holding a slightly battered looking box of Puffs, her blue hair slightly askew.  Smiling almost slyly, she took a few tissues in one hand and held them to Chelsea’s nose.  “Now blow.  I can’t trust you to do it, because I’m sure you’ll just make a mess of everything since you’re barely able to sit without help.”

Too confused and weak to protest, Chelsea blew liquidly, filling the tissues with a rushing sound that made Cara squeeze her thighs together.  “There, much better.  Now, sit here while I get you that food.”

When Cara returned with the plate and glass, she found Chelsea rubbing her nose furiously with the non-purple hand.  “It’s stuck,” she whined, sniffling a bit and looking adorably pitiful.

“What’s stuck?” Cara asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to keep Chelsea talking about it.

“The sneezes.  I need to sneeze but they won’t come out!”  Still scrubbing at her nose, she sniffed a bit more, almost exasperatedly, and looked at Cara, her eyes half-filled with allergic tears, her indigo irises shimmering.  “Would you help me get them out?”

Cara nearly dropped the plate and glass, her nipples hardening instantly, protruding from beneath the thin material of her chemise.  Setting the items down on the coffee table with slightly shaking hands, Cara took a steadying breath and nodded, forcing her voice to remain normal.  “Sure.  What would you like me to do?”

“I’ve never been able to get a stuck sneeze out by myself, but for some reason, if I have someone else massage the tip of my nose, the sneezes always come.  Would you, please?  This tickle is killing me!”  Chelsea punctuated her statement by sniffling and wiggling her cute little nose all around, as if pretending to be a bunny.

“I think I can manage that,” Cara breathed, “but first, I think we need to get you in more comfortable clothing.  I’m sure that can’t be very relaxing.  Here, I’ll be right back.”  Knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that she was slightly taking advantage of the girl, Cara fought back pangs of guilt and instead replayed Chelsea’s sneezes in her head.

Back in her bedroom, she found a semi-sheer nightgown, scarlet in colour, and rather low-cut.  Shivering a bit at the thought of Chelsea wearing such an item of clothing, she returned to the living room and sat on the edge of the couch beside the girl.

“I’ll help you with the sneeze, but you need to eat at least one slice of bread, and drink at least half this glass of water first.”

Chelsea readily agreed, only wanting to get rid of the tickle.  After she finished the food and drink, she looked up at Cara with liquid eyes begging for relief. 

“Not yet.  You need to get comfortable first.  And I doubt you can handle changing by yourself, so it looks like I’ll have to help you.”

Expecting Chelsea to protest, Cara was surprised when the girl merely raised her arms so Cara could remove her shirt.  She took her time undressing the stranger, drawing her eyes over each new bit of exposed skin, taking in each curve of the girl’s nude body.  Finally, she pulled the nightgown over Chelsea’s head and arranged it over her body, sliding her hands along the skin and fabric a bit more than was strictly necessary.

“Now, I’ll help you with the stuck sneeze,” Cara said with a smile.  Placing the girl’s clothing in a pile on the coffee table, beside the empty plate and glass, she moved onto the couch and straddled Chelsea, placing one leg on either side of the dazed figure, amazed at her own brazen behaviour.  “Just show me where to rub.”

“Right here,” Chelsea instructed, pointing to the very tip of her nose, and guiding Cara’s hand up to touch it.  Cara silently thanked the powers that be for substances that lowered inhibitions, still amazed that she sat atop a slender beauty with a rebellious nose, who actually wanted her help to induce sneezes.  Ah, heaven.

Dimly aware that she was growing wet, Cara pushed the thought from her mind and instead began to lightly massage the tip of Chelsea’s nose, the tissue box nearby if things got messy. 

“I’m warning you, once I start sneezing, it’s really hard for me to stop.  This might trigger a sneezing fit, and those can last for half an hour,” Chelsea informed her.

Cara suppressed a moan and unconsciously rubbed herself against Chelsea’s midsection, cotton pajama pants to silk nightgown, unaware that her juices were spreading through the material and onto the girl.  “Is this the right spot?” she asked, her voice somewhat shaky.

“Yes, tha… ahhh… ehhht-ShhoOOO! SHOOO!  EiiiishhoOOO!  KerSHOOO!”

As Chelsea began to sneeze, Cara lost all self-control, finding one of Chelsea’s hands and guiding it towards the moistened contours of her pajama pants.  With every sneeze, the girl thrust against her, fingers splaying to send Cara into a world of pleasure.  Loosening the band of her pants, Cara slipped Chelsea’s hand into them, moaning as she made contact with warm, wet skin.

Chelsea, for her part, continued to sneeze repeatedly, barely registering what Cara was doing.  “Heht-Shooo!  Heht-EiiiShooo!  Kishhhoo!  Shooo!  Shooo!  Up-Tschooo!”  Nearing the edge, Cara reined herself in and slid off the couch, grabbing a handful of tissues and attempting to catch the sneezes.

“Do they ever stop?” she asked, not really wanting them to, but worried for Chelsea’s health.

“Not for… foo… Uht-Shooo! KishhOOO! For a long time, unless I coo… Ooohh… AishhOOO!  Eick-Shooo!  Chissshooo!  IsshooOOO! Unless I come.”  Chelsea looked embarrassed and ashamed, and still quite sneezy. 

If it were possible for Cara to get any wetter, she would have.  As it was, she contented herself with an audible moan and a whisper: “Would you like me to help you with that?”

Chelsea nodded between sneezes, unable to get enough breath to answer.  Within seconds, Cara scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, gently setting her on the bed, the dark blue covers slightly rumpled but otherwise clean.  Not wasting any time, she slipped out of her clothing and helped Chelsea take off the nightgown, before standing beside the bed and gazing at the sneezing beauty before her.  With large, full breasts that jiggled with each sneeze, Chelsea looked like something out of a wet dream.

Hit with a sudden wave of guilt, Cara paused and looked into Chelsea’s eyes.  “Are you sure you want this?  Are you doing this of your own free will, and you don’t feel like I’m pressuring you or anything?”  Chelsea nodded to show that she was, in fact, okay with this.  It would be her first experience with another woman, though she’d been fantasizing about it for years.

With Chelsea’s reassurance to assuage her guilt, Cara climbed onto the bed, crouching on all fours like a tigress ready to pounce upon her prey.  After each sneeze, she crept closer, drawing her naked body across Chelsea’s smooth, pale skin.  “AiishhooOOO!”  Closer.  “Shoooo!”  Closer.  “Het-IsshoOOO!  Eiishooo!”

Cara pounced on Chelsea, devouring her in a flurry of kisses, licks and nibbles, tasting everywhere, across her shoulders, up her neck, down the bridge of her nose as Chelsea spasmed beneath her with every moist sneeze.  Unable to contain herself any longer, Cara stretched out beside Chelsea with her face near the girl’s legs, and began to kiss and lick along her abdomen and upper thighs, teasing her with every breath.

As Chelsea’s body shook with another pair of spraying sneezes, Cara dipped her tongue into the girl’s wetness. She then shuddered with pleasurable surprise to find Chelsea returning the favour.  Chelsea delivered sneeze after sneeze between Cara’s firm thighs, sometimes pausing to explore with her soft, pink tongue when the sneezes gave her a moment’s rest.

Cara allowed the waves of pleasure to wash over her lithe frame, accepting them and flowing with them as she had danced to the music earlier that evening.  Each sneeze drove her closer and closer to the edge as she lapped hungrily at Chelsea’s wetness, delving her tongue between the drenched folds of skin and flicking it lightly across the girl’s clit.

It only took a few moments of this before Chelsea attempted to warn Cara, trying to talk around the sneezes that would not cease.  “If you kee… ehhh..  EisshOOO! Etschooo! Keep that up, I’m going to come,” she moaned, rubbing herself against Cara’s nearly buried face.  Heedless of the warning, Cara took Chelsea’s clit between her lips and began to suckle it whilst rubbing her nose between the rosy pink folds.

With a pair of deliciously spraying sneezes, Chelsea reached her climax, filling Cara’s mouth with warm, tangy fluid.  “HEH-SHOOOO!  EIISHHOOO!”  Falling back onto the bed, limp from the pleasure and the copious amounts of sneezing, Chelsea nevertheless continued to lick between Cara’s legs, sniffling intermittently.

Cara shook with the pleasure of her own climax, grinding herself against Chelsea’s head and wrapping her legs around the girl, nearly suffocating her in sticky juices.  The two lay together, partially intertwined, motionless in a pool of wetness: a mixture of feminine juices and several sneezes.  When Cara bothered to move, she noted with amusement that Chelsea had passed out against the pillows, her lips still shimmering with Cara’s moisture.

“I’ll let her sleep,” she whispered to herself, stretching out with her head upon Chelsea’s breasts.  “She’s been through a lot tonight.”