Truth or Dare
A Nasty Little Story of Peer Pressure
by Kinto Mythostian


"Do it! Do it! Do it!" Three teenaged female voices chanted in unison as a fourth female dialed the phone with trembling hooffingers. She put it on speaker and they all quieted as it rang.

"Hello?" A male voice answered.

"Solomon St. James?" Madison asked while the other three stifled their giggles.

"Yes..." the thoroughbred stallion on the other end of the line said apprehensively.

"I think you're cute!" the mare blurted out.

"Who is thi-?" was heard from Solomon before Madison abruptly ended the call.

"I can't believe I just did that!" Madison, a chestnut quarter horse mare with a white spot on her forehead, shouted to no one in particular and threw back a shot of the vodka Ashleygh had stolen from her parents' liquor cabinet before joining in the laughter the other three could no longer hold back. 

"Did you hear his voice? He sounds even cuter when he's confused!" Ashleygh, likewise a chestnut quarter horse mare, though with a wide white blaze down her long, perfectly conformed muzzle, said between fits of giggles.

"Next time you have to ask him out!" McKinley, a third chestnut quarter horse mare, free of markings on her face but with a white right hand, added.

"Yeah right," Madison shook back her long, flowing mane and spun the empty beer bottle the quartet was circled around on the floor and three of the voices faded into quiet.

One voice, however, kept laughing long after the others had stopped; Harriet's harsh braying guffaws discordantly distinct from the whinnying laughs and giggles of her companions. Only when the gray donkey sensed the gazes of the three chestnut horses focused on her did she stop.

Harriet could not believe she was here, hanging out with the cool fillies. They'd never even acknowledged the jenny before, but on Thursday McKinley had approached her after school and very kindly invited Harriet to her latest party on Friday, when her parents would be out of town. All Harriet had to do, McKinley said, was bring something to drink. 

Harriet hadn't even hesitated before saying yes. McKinley and her purebred friends were the elite, only one tier below the thoroughbreds that made up their school's social royalty. They were pretty, clever, and incredibly poised. Colts fought each other to date them. Fillies would have killed to hang out with them. Harriet had always followed the rules, and it had gotten her nowhere; the teachers were always on the lookout for something to punish non-horses for, to remind them how inferior their species were. But to be a purebred was to be above the rules; they and those they had privileged with their friendship could get away with anything. To be part of their circle was something donkeys could only dream of.

McKinley's instruction had presented a small challenge because no one in Harriet's family drank, but last Christmas her parents had received a bottle of wine as a gift; too gracious to refuse they had kept it tucked away and Harriet was sure they would never miss it. She worried it wouldn't be enough, but when she produced it from her bag at McKinley's mansion, it was met with enthusiastic approval. Emboldened by this success, the jenny had thrown caution to the wind and proceeded to match her new friends drink for drink as the afternoon wore into evening. She felt sick and her head hurt, but she wasn't about to admit it; she didn't want them to think she was uncool.

Now they were arrayed on the floor of McKinley's den, dressed in their school uniforms, though only Harriet still had her crisp white blouse tucked into her navy blue skirt, which was also the only skirt that strictly adhered to the regulation knee-length. The donkey's navy blue wool knee socks were faded and slightly frayed, in contrast to the smooth new acrylic socks on the horses' legs. The four of them were laughing and drinking together, and, to Harriet's elation, she was really enjoying herself. She didn't know why the mares had suddenly decided she was worthy of their company, but she was overjoyed that they had. She knew this was the beginning of something wonderful.

Harriet realized the bottle had come to a stop pointing at her. "Truth or Dare?" Madison asked.

"Truth," Harriet said confidently. She had been brought up to always tell the truth.

McKinley and Ashleygh made sounds of disappointment, but Madison ignored them. "Who would you rather kiss? Jamal or Aeneas?"

"Oooh!" chorused McKinley and Ashleygh.

Harriet tried to think carefully, though the alcohol fog made it difficult. Jamal was a zebra, which in their school's carefully delineated social hierarchy put him below all domestic equines, except maybe mules, whereas Aeneas was an acceptably well-bred thoroughbred, but was known to be a gelding; he was also, according to the gossip, gay. Truthfully, the jenny wouldn't have minded kissing either of them, being devoid of all experience in the field of osculation, but she could only choose one. "Jamal," she said and felt her ears turn red; as large as they were she was sure they looked like two traffic pylons sticking out of her head.

"Oooh!" chorused the three horses.

"I think he's a sweetheart," Harriet said quietly before drinking a shot of the burning liquor McKinley had provided and that none of them were able to pronounce, especially not after tasting it.

"Harriet's a stripe chaser!" screeched Madison.

"Hey, lighten up, Madison. Stripes are slimming!" McKinley playfully poked Harriet's stomach; the donkey was significantly pudgier than the trio of mares. Harriet laughed with the rest, convincing herself that McKinley was too buzzed to have intended any insult.

"Alright, donk! Spin it!"

The bottle came to a stop pointing towards McKinley. "Truth or dare?" asked Harriet.

"Dare," the mare responded with a smirk.

"I dare you..." Harriet hesitated, racking her brain for an appropriate challenge, something that wasn't too much in conflict with her morals but wasn't so weak as to be lame.

"Well?" McKinley said when no dare seemed to be forthcoming.

"Idareyoutoshowusyourpanties," the words tumbled from the donkey's mouth in a rush. She didn't know why she'd said it; it was the only thing she could think of. Once again her ears flushed.

Madison and Ashleygh burst out laughing. McKinley, however, looked mildly impressed.

"Geez, Harriet, next time try something we haven't all seen twenty times already!" Ashleygh laughed.

"If she's still around later, she'll get to see a whole lot more than that!" Madison yelled.

McKinley meanwhile rose to her knees and reached under her skirt with one hand. Without diverting her scrutinizing gaze from Harriet, the mare shimmied about until her panties slid down her thighs past the hem of her skirt. Sitting back on her butt she pulled them past her knees, her socks, and, with a flick of her hoof, sent them across the circle to Harriet, who caught them in surprise. They were pink, and silk, with a darker pink heart front and center.

"You can keep them if you'd like; I have more," McKinley said in a teasingly playful tone, and drank a shot of rum.

"Oh. Oh! Um. Thanks," Harriet said. Painfully aware of them all watching her, she tucked McKinley's panties into the pocket sewn into her skirt.

McKinley spun the bottle and for the second time that night it ended pointing straight towards Harriet. "Truth or dare?" the mare asked.

Remembering the disappointment that had been expressed last time and seeing the slyly suggestive look the now-pantyless McKinley was giving her, Harriet this time boldly said "Dare."

The three mares exchanged knowing smirks, like they had been waiting for the donkey to say that word. Harriet sensed the unspoken knowledge of some inside joke she was not privy to.

"I dare you," McKinley rummaged in her backpack, "to eat," she pulled out a bright yellow box, "this!"

Harriet's brow furrowed; this was not what she had been expecting. The donkey craned her neck to get a better look and her brown eyes widened in surprise. She brayed out a laugh, sure it was a joke. "McKinley, that's-"

"Rat poison. And you have to eat it." The suddenly sober expression on McKinley's face showing no trace of humor. 

"But..." Harriet felt herself becoming more sober by the second.

"What's wrong, Harriet? Spit it out." Ashleygh jeered, her voice devoid of conviviality.

"Won't I die?"

McKinley shrugged. 

"But that's suicide! It's a sin!" Harriet warbled.

"So's stealing from your parents," Madison took a swig from the incriminating wine bottle, "and breaking a promise."

"Like when you promised to do whatever you were dared to do."

"No, but it's unforgiveable! I'll go to Hell!" the donkey wailed.

"I'd do it if you dared me to," Ashleygh said casually.

"Me too," Madison agreed.

"Exactly. Because those are the rules," McKinley said authoritatively. "Here, we'll make it a little easier." She filled a tumbler with vodka and then poured a generous dose of the poison powder into the glass, turning the liquor chalky white. She held it out to Harriet.

Harriet stared at it horrified, her long gray ears folded back. "I'm not drinking that."

"Take it," McKinley demanded.

"No!"

"Geez, don't be such a buzzkill, donk."

"McKinley, I told you she was too much of a loser to hang out with us."

"But-" Harriet's feeble protest was drowned beneath the chatter of the mares.

"Face it, donk, hanging out with us is as cool as you'll ever be."

"If you don't do what we tell you to, we'll tell /everyone/ what a giant loser you are."

"No one will ever talk to you again."

"It's not like they've ever did before."

"Stop-"

"I thought you wanted to be cool, donk."

"Do it!"

"You swore!"

"Do it!"

"Do it! Do it! Do it!" all three mares were chanting hungrily.

"Alright!" Harriet cried with tears glinting in the corners of her eyes, "Alright!" She grabbed the glass from McKinley and, before she could change her mind, swallowed it in one deep gulp. It burned her throat as it went down, though Harriet was unsure whether that was from the poison or the vodka. 

The chant of 'Do it!' stopped as the donkey set down the empty glass. The three mares watched quietly for a few seconds. 

"I'm impressed, donk," McKinley said, "Not bad."

"I can't believe you got so worked up. Suicide? Seriously? That stuff's made to kill vermin, not people. What kind of fillies do you think we are?" Ashleygh teased.

Harriet forced herself to smile, like it was a hilarious joke. In retrospect it seemed ridiculous to think that her new friends would do anything to seriously harm her. It had been a test. A rite of passage. Hazing. Realizing they were waiting for her to say something, she spoke, "It tasted awful. Like bird shit." The profanity felt unfamiliar on her lips. She groped for the liquor bottle with shaking hands.

"How do you know what bird shit tastes like?" Madison asked irritatingly.

Harriet opened her mouth for a witty retort but nothing came to her. "Fuck you, Madison," Harriet snapped, and this seemed to be acceptable because the mares laughed. "I really don't-" The donkey stopped mid-sentence and clutched at her midsection. As an equine it was impossible for her to vomit, but her body suddenly seemed to be desperately trying its hardest to learn how. Her stomach contorted painfully, the ache spreading rapidly outward though her abdomen and intensifying.

Harriet felt incredibly hot. Her whole body was on fire, burning up from the inside out. She tugged at her blouse, desperate to get it off, but her limbs were shaking so badly she only managed to get it halfway. The donkey tore at it frantically, ripping the rest of the buttons out and baring her suddenly sweat-soaked chest. She clawed at her hide, her blunt hooffingers leaving red marks beneath her coarse gray hairs. 

The jenny tried to stand, spun drunkenly on the spot, and then abruptly collapsed to the floor and convulsed wildly, tufted tail flailing, uncontrollable limbs jerking spastically. The three mares jumped to their hooves and reflexively stepped back, away and out of range of the thrashing donkey.

One arm sent the empty beer bottle skittering across the floor; a leg knocked over the unpronounceable liquor. Harriet's heart was thundering like a thoroughbred's hooves against her ribs but she couldn't breathe. She wanted to clutch at her throat but her arms were no longer her own.

Her eye rolled back into her skull. She could smell blood in her nostrils and there was a taste on her tongue like the scent of an old textbook. She spasmed again, cracking her shin against a table hard enough to fracture bone but that pain barely registered.

Just as suddenly, Harriet went rigid and curled agonizingly into the fetal position. Her lungs felt like they were carved from granite. Her heart pounded, continuing to force her blood through her veins but it did no good. She was shivering from head to hoof even as sweat dripped into her eyes. She opened and closed her mouth but breath went neither in nor out.

The three mares dropped to their hands and knees and closed tightly around the cowered jenny, their eyes aflame with primal fascination, their tails swishing with excitement. They gazed raptly as Harriet gasped soundlessly for breath, her lolling tongue turning from vivid red to necrotic black, her ears and lips coloring purple and then an anoxic blue, her eyes rolling back once more to show the whites that blossomed into red as the mares watched.

Harriet saw them crowded around her. She saw no pity, no remorse in their stares. She knew that they had lured her here for this moment. They had never liked her. They just wanted to watch her die. Their eyes told her she was worthless. Harriet knew she was. She had made herself so. She deserved the eternity that even now beckoned to her. She gave up fighting and resigned herself to the blackness.

The donkey's tearful brown eyes slid out of focus and she fell completely still. A urine stain spread across the front of her skirt. The three mares sat in silence for several seconds, casually watching for any further signs of life. When nothing happened for a long stretch of silence, they sat up straight and looked at each other.

"I told you she'd do it," McKinley said smugly.

"Huh," Ashleygh said. "Who's up for strip poker?"

Madison swallowed the last of the wine. "What a dweeb."







First draft begun October 29, 2013. First draft completed October 30, 2013. Editing completed November 14, 2013.