She's a hungover, easy target

"Oh my fucking God. Fuck. My. Life." Tiffany is an understandable agony awakening from a long night of being turned inside out on your dick and subjected to multiple hard drugs and alcohol. The 18 year old teen is hurting more than a typical hangover, she’s also sore all inside and out from being roughfucked like a cheap whore, then spending the night face down on your apartment floor. "Fuck. Where even am I?"

Tiffany’s blue eyes blink stupidly as she sees you enter the living room and walk over to her. She hides her prize cheerleader breasts with folded, goosebump-pimpled arms, and sits up on the floor. She probably wouldn’t have been able to police identify you if you had abandoned her in some slum alley, but a few faint memories must be coming back to the blonde. Because she gets up off the floor with knees as weak as a newborn dear, only to sit back down on the couch and cradle her head in her hands.

"Oh... ugh, ouch..." Tiffany moans in agony. "It’s... fucking Christ, what did I even do last night? Ohhh..."

"What, did I fuck you so hard you get amnesia?" you joke, your voice is raspy with hangover morning. Tiffany scowls and refuses to meet your eyes, trying to make sense of last night's endeavors.

So, you offer her a drugged-up drink to soften up, saying, "Here. Drink this. It’ll help with the hangover, I already downed two myself." You sip your identically dyed glass pointedly.

There’s something familiar about Tiffany drinking or sucking down whatever you give her, and the muscle memory of taking the glass from your hand and sipping it must flood Tiffany back with memories of last night because she giggles quickly after a few sips.

"Last night…" She pauses, making a funny face at the drink. "I mean, last night was… That was… That was insane. I mean I am… I’m a little foggy but..."

You butter Tiffany up, sitting next to her on the couch yet keeping a little bit of distance until she’s more at ease... or at least until the GHB takes effect. "Hey, you were a rockstar girl." You hold your glass up in a salute, earning another gulp from Tiffy's GHB laced cup. "Oh yeah, not even the college dames can keep up with a party animal like you!"

Tiffany gives a dry smile and continues sipping the drugged drink. "Oh man but, I mean... I knew Alexis and her friends would be wild but… Did we… Like, did you and I..."

In the morning light, Tiffany’s young temperament is much too shy and ashamed to voice the things that she vaguely remembers doing last night, the things that you made her do, that the drugs made her do. It’s cute, really. This busty blonde 18 year old barely legal suburbanite in just her panties really looks her young age with her megawatt smile grinning ruefully over the ridge of the cup she's sipping from.

"Look, I know it wasn't your first time, for sure." You'll bank on the notion that Tiffany is a slut, but you don’t really know anything about her past. Either way, you want to normalize her sexualization as much as possible. "You were really a minx, I mean, haha, I haven’t had wild, crazy sex like that for a while! You’re really something special, babe."

You slide over on the couch and put your hand on Tiffany’s thigh, she shivers instinctively. She hasn’t known you for even 24 hours, and never without the fog of drunkenness or narcotically lowered inhibitions. Besides, you can’t look too hot or desirable to this teenage babe after a long night of partying and no shower or hygiene maintenance on your part.

"Hehe, thanks. But I…" Tiffany refuses to meet your gaze, her eyes ranging nervously around the room, probably looking for her clothes or her stuff. "Where is my bra?"

When you point across the living room to Tiffany’s lacy, double D Victoria’s Secret bra (hanging off of a light fixture, nonetheless), she tenderfootedly pads over to it while keeping her nubile breasts covered in her hands. It’s the Prototypical walk of shame: you’ve seen it a lot as a drug dealer of rapport. Young Tiffany is about to try to disappear out of here.

The question is, will you let her?

"I mean, it was… Cool and all…" Tiffany turns her bra rightside out and straps it around her awesome bust. "But I really want to go, my cousin's gonna be worried and…"

But she stops what she's saying and, with only one arm in her dress, staggers weakly. Tiffany wretches, shivering suddenly. You see her skin bead with sweat and blanch a pale white. Moving around has got the drugs, past and present, flooding Tiff's mind and body.

"You sure you're okay?" Hiding a smirk, you stand up in mock concern, reaching out toward the stumbling blonde bombshell and trying to scoop her up into your arms.