The Experiment

The Experiment

Dakota Blazz was a woman of routines. Every morning, she woke at 5:00 AM, fed her dogs—Buzz’d, Blazz’d, and Blunt’d—then ran them through their drills. Sit, stay, heel, roll over, jump. They could do it all. Perfectly. It was something the town had come to expect. Dakota and her dogs were local legends, and the townsfolk watched, amazed, as she trained them with effortless precision.

But Dakota knew her dogs weren’t just well-trained. They were something else. Something more.

The first sign of something odd came two weeks ago. Dakota had sent Buzz’d to retrieve her keys from the kitchen, as usual, but this time, when the dog returned, his eyes weren’t full of obedience. They were full of... knowledge. Like he had learned the secret of the universe in that brief moment he’d disappeared behind the kitchen door.

Blazz’d had become more intuitive, too. At the park, Dakota had been about to call for her to return, but Blazz’d was already there, waiting, staring at her with a look that seemed to say, You were going to call me, weren’t you?

And then there was Blunt’d. Blunt’d, who had always been a little slow, a little detached. Until yesterday. When Dakota had told him to fetch the ball, he hadn’t just brought it back. He had thrown it. With perfect aim, right into her hands.

“Okay, Blunt’d,” Dakota whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. “What’s going on here?”

She had been alone with the dogs when it happened. It was just the four of them, the evening sky darkening, the air thick with summer heat. The streetlights flickered on, and Dakota watched as Buzz’d sat on the porch step, Blazz’d stood rigid, and Blunt’d laid by her feet, his eyes watching her, waiting.

She'd never asked them to do this before.

“What is it, boys?” Dakota murmured, her fingers tapping her leg absently.

Buzz’d’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Dakota’s heart skipped a beat.

Blazz’d moved closer, his mouth twitching as if he were trying to speak, but still, nothing.

Blunt’d stood up, his tail stiff, his movements unnaturally controlled. Then, all at once, they all turned to face her.

“Dakota,” Buzz’d said, though his lips didn’t move. The voice was clear, chilling, in her mind.

“We are not your dogs.”

Dakota’s breath caught in her throat. The air felt thick with the weight of their gaze. They were... they were speaking, and yet, nothing was in her ears. It was all inside her head.

Blunt’d’s eyes softened, and he added, “We are not your pets. You are ours.”

Her pulse raced. Her legs wobbled. This was impossible.

Suddenly, everything clicked. The training. The perfection. The way they had always been one step ahead.

Her dogs had never been trained by her.

She was the one who had been trained.

Dakota stumbled back. They didn’t need her. She had only been a vessel, a conduit for their power.

The truth surged through her, and in a single, electric moment, Dakota realized the horror.

She wasn’t the master .

She was the experiment.