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"This...this is it?"

Dubious, Cove looked out the window at the rear entrance to the warehouse. He was sitting in the back seat of the black Mercedes EQS 450+ that had picked him up from his home and ferried him to the outskirts of Grafton Bay. Low-fi electronic music played softly on the car's stereo, but Cove hadn't paid attention to the tunes at all. He'd been distracted during the trip, wondering what tonight was going to entail--the anticipation was driving his imagination wild. The tiger shark had been drumming his fingers on his thigh and jiggling his leg in his seat the whole ride; as he surveyed the old, practically abandoned industrial building, the nerves and excitement momentarily settled, and he finally held still. But he still felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

Cove's stare lingered on the open door and the dim light within that flickered just beyond the threshold--the only sign that the dilapidated warehouse was still in use. Weeds poked up through the cracks in the pavement, streetlights stood overhead with their glass bulbs broken and metal dome hoods hanging off of wires, and a broken and warped chain link fence lined the perimeter of the property, surrounding the building that had rusty bars covering its windows and dark stains smearing its walls. The place looked nothing like the club that Cove had imagined; somehow, he'd gotten it into his mind that he'd be going to some kind of mansion or country club setup. The website he'd used to submit his application had given him the sense that this was an incredibly exclusive, top-tier group. And then there was the Mercedes--if Domino could invest in a car like that just to pick him (and presumably the other new initiates) up, then the club's headquarters would be equally swanky, right? Yet here he was, parked outside of a seedy, rundown warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

The tiger shark tilted his head thoughtfully. Then again, maybe this kind of environment would be perfect for a club like Domino; far away from prying eyes and in a ramshackle building that would deceive the casual passerby...if there was a casual passerby at 1 AM.

"Yes, sir," the synthesized, bass-boosted voice said from the driver's seat--the wolf who had driven the car was coated head-to-toe in a thick, squeaky, shiny, and perfectly seamless layer of black latex rubber. Bright green glowing icons shone on his arms, chest, face, and crotch. The wolf's lime-hued eyes gleamed steadily as the drone kept his gaze obediently forward, and a black, rubber finger depressed the locking control to unlock the doors. "If you wish to begin initiation, enter through the door and you will be processed," the rubber drone continued; his muzzle, masked under the coating of rubber, didn't move at all, but his electronically modulated voice emanated through a hidden speaker in the latex body suit. "Or I can return you to your home, if you prefer to reject the offer to join."

Cove gulped, patted his legs, and took a quick, bracing breath--no way was he going to back out now, not after all the hoops he'd jumped through for his application. "No, I'm going in," he heard himself say, as if he was listening from outside of his own body. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir," the drone said respectfully.

The muscular, tan, brown, and white tiger shark pushed open the back door and pulled himself out of the car, then shut it before the black Mercedes pulled away, leaving him alone in front of the warehouse. He shivered and looked up at the sky--the stars weakly gleamed back down on him through the light pollution of the city; even this late at night, he could barely see the Pearl Cascade, a cluster of stars that would normally be shining brightly in the southern sky. For a wild moment, he wished he could be far out of town, somewhere along the coast, floating in the ocean with nothing preventing him from seeing more stars than he could count. That was where he was most comfortable, not some sketchy, rundown industrial complex. Cove, dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt, sighed to himself as his gaze traveled back down from the vault of the sky to his more immediate surroundings. The warehouse with its flickering light inside loomed before him, waiting. He squared his shoulders, then made for the rear entrance which beckoned him.

With each step, Cove's nerves bubbled up higher and higher. He'd been waiting for this moment for months, ever since that first night he'd heard about Domino and the first morning when he'd read about the club on their website. Domino's dues-paying members could indulge in any kink or fetish they wanted to during club meetings, there were absolutely no limits--anything from the most mild vanilla acts to the darkest forms of raunch and abuse were welcome, and Cove had been wanting a place to push his boundaries further. That, and he'd found some extra incentive to join; the tiger shark's heart fluttered for a moment as he thought about the prize that would hopefully be just beyond the door he was walking towards.

The application process had been beyond rigorous; over the course of six weeks, Cove had needed to complete repetitive psychological tests to get a consistent read on his personality, numerous background checks, an exhaustive financial analysis, a comprehensive sexual experience assessment (which, to be honest, he had heavily embellished), and an STI and AIV test. In addition to all of those obstacles, Cove had been required to gather at least five separate character references and letters of recommendation, he'd had to take photographs of every last centimeter of his body, and he'd had to submit a video essay on what he could contribute to the club as a member and what he would hope to learn from Domino. Even though there were parts of his application that were flat-out lies, he'd still felt so accomplished when he finally submitted the thing--the hard part after that was waiting another three months for Domino's recruitment period to end before they replied to him with their verdict. The tiger shark could hardly believe his luck when the email came at last with his offer of membership and only a few details for initiation; he had read the message at least once a day for the past two weeks to make sure it was still real, to remind himself that he had gotten in, and to prepare himself for tonight.

As he approached the warehouse door, two hulking, dark shadows emerged from the entrance. From the glowing purple and orange lights adorning the shiny latex that coated the figures, Cove realized that they were more rubber drones--an alligator and a horse, based on their silhouettes. The alligator's belly bulged under the thick layer of black rubber, while the horse's musculature was incredibly pronounced through the latex. They each held out a broad hand, and Cove allowed them to receive him; their warm, rubber-covered fingers securely wrapped around his biceps. The rubberized giants both stood a head taller than Cove, and they silently led him from the mild spring night outside to the cooler interior of the warehouse. The dim lights hanging from the ceiling continued to flicker feebly, but they provided enough illumination for Cove to see that he was being marched down a dingy, grimy, subway tile-walled hallway.

The building smelled old and musty--stale mildew hung on the air--and Cove heard the occasional drip of water from busted pipes while his soles thumped on the tiled floor compared to the soft, squeaking padding of his guides' rubber feet. His eyes widened, taking in his surroundings as he mutely let the alligator and horse drones escort him; faded, wrinkled workplace safety posters still hung on the walls, a janitor's mop and bucket lay discarded next to an empty supply cabinet, and forgotten scraps of paper littered the floor. The trio passed by an empty shell of an office with a shattered window, then turned a corner, and the drones pushed through a pair of swinging double doors. Cove had a hard time guessing what the warehouse had been used for, but the huge industrial kitchen they padded into gave him the impression that the building had once been a food processing facility.

The drones guided Cove to one of the giant sink stations, and they both released their holds on the tiger shark's arms.

"Strip, please," the alligator commanded while the horse stood next to the sink and picked up a spray nozzle.

"What?" Cove asked, confused. He looked at the gator drone that still stood by him.

"Remove your clothing, please," the alligator clarified, his rumbling, synthesized voice echoing off of the tiled walls.

Puzzled, Cove looked from the alligator to the horse, who stared blankly back at him with purple eyespots on his rubber face coating. Cove glanced at the alligator again, who watched him expectantly with glowing orange eyes--the tiger shark shrugged, then peeled off his green shirt and unzipped his jeans before pushing them down his legs and letting them drop to the floor. Now in nothing but his black briefs, Cove stepped out of his pants and waited for further instructions.

The alligator reached forward and hooked his rubberized fingers into Cove's waistband, then yanked the elastic fabric down, revealing the tiger shark's groin.

"I--hey!" Cove started.

"We need you completely naked, sir; we need to give you a quick rinse," the alligator drone said flatly as he dragged Cove's briefs down his legs and tugged, signaling for the tiger shark to step out of them as he had for his jeans.

Cove sheepishly complied, mentally grateful that his slit was still closed and his cock wasn't hanging out--his groin was flat for now, as his balls were internal, so he wasn't totally exposed. And it wasn't that he even really had much of an issue with being exposed like this in front of the rubber drones; it was just unexpected and surprising...although not altogether unwelcome.

The alligator discarded the briefs, then placed his heavy hands on Cove's shoulders and pushed, turning the tiger shark on the spot to face the horse, who stood next to the sink with the spray nozzle in hand.

"Please climb into the sink, sir," the horse drone directed.

Cove did as he was told; as big as the industrial sink was, he wasn't sure if it would support his weight. But he didn't need to worry--after gingerly climbing in and standing in the sink that came up to his midriff, Cove found that it held him easily. He watched the horse aim the nozzle at him, then closed his eyes and winced preemptively, dreading the cold water that was about to hit.

The nozzle hissed as the water flew out of it.

"Oooh," Cove groaned in blissful surprise; the jet was warmer than he expected.

"Hold still, please," the horse advised as he sprayed Cove.

The tiger shark stood rooted to his spot as the horse hosed him down, from the tip of his head fin, to his chest and stomach, over his arms, along his legs, between his thighs and over his groin, and down to his feet. The water gurgled and spiraled down the drain in the bottom of the sink, and Cove's front felt comfortably warm while his backside was still chilly from the dank, cool air.

"Turn around, please."

Cove complied, turning until his back faced the horse, and the drone repeated the treatment; water cascaded down his back and played over his taut butt cheeks.

"Raise your tail, please."

The tiger shark chuckled and lifted his muscular tail--for good measure, he held his cheeks apart, exposing his puckered hole, and he relaxed enough to make the rim open slightly. He winced in pleasure and involuntarily clenched as he felt the hard water jet spray on his hole.

When the washdown was finished, Cove turned around again and accepted a towel from the alligator, who also helped him out of the sink. Once the tiger shark finished drying off, the horse took the towel from him while the alligator held him by the bicep again and began steering him towards the back of the kitchen.

"You will be collected momentarily," the alligator said as he guided Cove--the horse followed closely behind them. "You have been randomly assigned number 6. When you hear your number called, step forward and your initiation will begin."

"Okay," Cove acknowledged.

When they reached the back of the kitchen, Cove saw that they stood in front of a large door to a walk-in freezer.

"While you are in holding, you may speak with the other initiates," the alligator's heavily modulated voice said while the horse drone padded around them to grab the freezer door handle. "Sexual activity of any kind is not allowed while you wait. Do you understand, sir?"

"Yes," Cove replied as the horse pulled the sliding door open.

As the door rolled on its casters, Cove saw another 13 men--all as nude as he, some with their sheaths empty and their slits closed, others sporting semis and small chubs--standing and sitting in the freezer. They all looked comfortable, and Cove didn't feel a blast of cold air as the door opened, which meant that the freezer wasn't turned on. Some of the men looked up and nodded at Cove in greeting as the alligator released the tiger shark and pushed him forward into the freezer space. Cove stumbled inside, but he caught himself and turned to watch the horse pull the freezer door closed again--when it was back in place, he saw that there was no handle or mechanism of any kind for the door to be opened from the inside. They were trapped.

Cove took a steadying breath and held his arms close to his chest in a move to soothe his nerves, then surveyed his fellow captives.

The 13 other men in the freezer varied in age. Some seemed to be in their late 20s and early 30s, while others seemed to be in their 40s and 50s; Cove saw there was one who looked as young as 18 or 19, he couldn't be sure--even though he was only 23, he was surprised that a club like Domino would be willing to accept someone still in their teens. He observed that this group were a wide range of species, too; he saw a beagle, a kangaroo, a cobra, a rottweiler, a komodo dragon, a meerkat, a beaver, a skunk, a goat, a fox, a leopard, an orca, and a red panda.

As Cove stared wide-eyed at the assortment of men, one of them--the orca, a beefy bull who looked to be in his 40s, and with thick, smooth black skin and white markings on his cheeks, chest, arms, groin, legs, and tail--eyed him up and purposefully strode towards him, his chest puffed out. Cove froze on the spot, unsure of what to do as the orca stepped into his personal space.

"Well, how about this--you get lost on the way home, buddy?" the orca asked.

"I--what? I mean--no!" Cove stumbled, trying to pull himself together. The poor tiger shark's nerves were going haywire; he was thrown in here with a bunch of strangers, unsure of what initiation was going to entail, and now there was an even bigger and more mature orca bearing down on him. As built and tall as Cove was, there was something so physically daunting about this orca, who wore a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, that it was all the tiger shark could do to simply stammer out, "I-I was...going to--"

But before Cove could finish, the beaver stepped up next to the orca and swatted the whale on the thigh with his thick tail. A few of the men behind them chuckled at the scene and shook their heads.

"Ah, don't worry about Kia, he's just giving you a hard time," the beaver said over Cove's nervous stammerings. The orca, Kia, snickered and nodded while the beaver continued, "Welcome to the club." He extended a hand.

Cove suspiciously glanced up at Kia, who held up his hands. "Sorry, man, no hard feelings?" The tiger shark saw the genuine smile on Kia's face, then grinned and nodded while the bundle of nerves in his stomach unclenched. "Yeah, no worries." He shook the beaver's outstretched hand as he asked, "You're all here for initiation, too?"

"Nah, we're just here for fun, it's game night" the beaver said with a wink.

Cove hesitated, confused. "I...game night? You're not--I mean..."

The beaver's eyebrows rose and the grin on his face wilted, all signs of awkward understand. "Oh...oh! No, I was just joking. You're in the right place, man."

"Heh, definitely a first timer, right?" Kia snickered, nudging the beaver's side.

"Well, gotta start somewhere," the beaver sighed, but his smile widened again as he looked at Cove. "You're among friends here, bud. Nothing to worry about."

"Not yet, at least," the orca added.

Cove gulped--he wasn't off to a good start, but he recovered himself enough to say, "I-I've been in clubs before, just nothing like this so far. Not really sure what to expect. How long have you all been here?"

"Aerus was the first," the beaver replied, pointing at the leopard who was sitting idly in the corner--the feline waved at Cove when he heard the beaver say his name. "He got here at around 10, and we all came in after him. I think I got here about an hour ago...you didn't happen to see what time it was during your ride here, did you?"

"Yeah, it's about 1," Cove replied.

"Shit...okay, my internal clock's off, it's been about two for me, then," the beaver groaned. "It's gotta suck waiting three like Aerus has been. I'm Erlich, by the way."

"Cove, nice to meet you," the tiger shark returned with a smile.

"And you've met Kia," Erlich said, gesturing at the orca who stood next to him. Cove and Kia shook hands before Erlich took up, "That's Filby"--he pointed at the beagle, who nodded in recognition--"Elesen"--the komodo dragon--"ah...hang on, trying to remember...Hanzin"--the red panda--"Roy"--the kangaroo--"Lamar"--the fox--"and that's Deonte"--the rottweiler--"Emil"--the cobra--"aaaand...Zach"--the meerkat"--"Colby"--the skunk--"and Straton"--the goat.

"Dang, you've got a good memory!" Cove commended.

Erlich smiled and shrugged. "Either that, or I just made up a bunch of names and lied to you about them."

Cove chuckled. "Either way, I wouldn't know the difference...did they give you a number?"

"Yeah, 10."

"13," Kia added. "What about you?"

"6. Have they said anything about how many of us there are going to be?"

"Recruitment rounds are done in batches of 15," Kia said. "One of my buddies went through this, and that's the only thing he shared with me. So it looks like we're waiting for one more."

"Okay...hopefully that won't be too long. And then what?" Cove asked.

Kia shrugged. "And then we go through initiation, I guess. In the meantime, mind me asking what brings you here?"

"Why do I want to join Domino, you mean?" Cove asked.

"Yeah--my buddy invited me, thought it'd be fun to do something together, and that's how I got into it," Kia said. "What about you?"

Cove grinned at the orca. "I got lost on my way home, right?"

Kia raised his eyebrows in recognition, then laughed. "Hey, there you go! Although what got you into applying for it?"

"Come on, man, don't be nosey," Erlich grumbled.

"No, I don't mind," Cove started before he could stop himself. "I..."

But the tiger shark hesitated. He could easily paraphrase what he'd written on his application--that he was looking for personally enriching experiences, that he was looking for a safe and welcoming environment to push his boundaries, and that he'd been looking for a sense of community with kindred spirits in kink--but there was more basic reason. A reason that had presented itself over five months ago. And even though so many days had passed since then, Cove could still clearly remember that night and the desire he felt.

He'd been at Hightower Bar, hanging around the second-floor bar and idly standing by the balcony to gaze down on the dance floor that had devolved into sets of orgies in front of the performance stage. The music had been thumping over the speakers, lights had been flashing and casting strands of neon on the humping, gyrating, moaning crowd below, and Cove, drinking a lemon margarita, had been pleasantly buzzed, nodding along with the beat as he took in the show on the ground floor...until he took notice of his neighbor, who had settled up by the balcony railing next to Cove.

The burly Saint Bernard had to have been close to 8 feet tall, and every fluff-covered inch of him was packed with muscle, enough to make Cove--who was 6'4" and spent plenty of time in the gym already to give himself a pretty well-defined physique--feel positively scrawny next to the behemoth who wore a sleeveless t-shirt, leather pants, thick chain-link bracelets, and large, solid rings on his kielbasa-like fingers. From the light sprinkling of gray fur in his muzzle, Cove guessed that the Saint Bernard was in his mid-50s. He also wore a leather cap with the brim adjusted to hide his eyes from view, but even without seeing the canine's gaze, Cove could tell that the Saint Bernard was watching the debauchery below; his tail was wagging languidly.

"Liking the view?" Cove had called over the music.

The Saint Bernard's head turned, and Cove could feel the dog's attention settle on him. The canine smirked and nodded before he took a sip of his whiskey--Cove couldn't help but watch the thick throat swallow, sending the gulp of liquor down to the dog's keg-like musclegut.

"Oh yeah--pretty decent entertainment. How about you?" The Saint Bernard's deep voice boomed over the noise of the crowd like a hammer in Cove's ear, but it was rich with honey and chocolate.

Cove grinned toothily. "Sure, it's fun to watch!"

"Thinking of going down there and joining in?" Based on the way the Saint Bernard nodded at him, Cove could tell that the big dog was gesturing at his outfit--a string-strap tank top and a pair of shredded jeans--which clearly announced "open for business, accepting all customers."

Cove grimaced and shook his head to the side. "Eh, maybe. I'm happy with the show up here, but...there's a little too much going on down there, I think. You know?"

The Saint Bernard huffed and smiled thinly. "Not quite as intimate as you like, you mean?"

Cove sidled up closer as he replied, "Exactly! Don't get me wrong, sometimes it's really hot to just have hundreds of strangers ogle you while you're getting dicked down on the dance floor, but--"

"But you want them to actually watch, am I right?" The Saint Bernard leaned in, his bulk towering over Cove and making the tiger shark feel delightfully small--and almost powerless--compared to the huge dog. "And not just cycle by on their way to the next hole."

"Yeah, that's...wow, you're good!" Cove laughed.

The Saint Bernard chuckled. "What can I say, I have a talent for reading people and what they want."

"Oh really? Anything else I'm wanting?" Cove asked flirtatiously as he subtly rolled his hips forward to the beat of the music, sliding his free hand down along his front to draw attention to his pectorals and abs before stopping just above his crotch. He was going through the motions he'd found that had worked before--highlighting his masculinity, accentuating his natural sex appeal, giving just a teaser of what was available and drawing his audience in for a closer look.

The corners of the Saint Bernard's lips curled up in a fuller smile. "There's a lot you're wanting, kid--most of it under that thick tail of yours."

Cove's eyes had widened and he'd taken a half-step back, surprised. "I...what?" He'd never had someone look at him like a bottom until now; ordinarily he was the one on top, taking the lead, aiming for the targets his dick desired. It wasn't as if he went around specifically looking for an ass to hump or a mouth to fill, it was just what naturally happened. But the way the Saint Bernard was (presumably, from under his cap) ogling him like a meat hole to be filled was...something new, something seductive. It was as if a switch had been flipped and now there was a certain hunger that was calling to him.

"Yeah, you do. Turn around a little for me," the Saint Bernard ordered, twirling his finger in the air.

Somehow enthralled by the Saint Bernard's interest in his backside, Cove abashedly turned to the side, showing off the mounds under his shredded jeans.

"That's the way, kid," the canine said huskily. He reached down and firmly forced his hand past the tiger shark's waistband to plant a broad hand on Cove's behind, cupping a cheek and rubbing the sandpapery tiger sharkskin with his rough, warm paw pads.

Cove--mentally thanking himself that he'd gone commando that night--couldn't stop himself; he arched his back slightly to push his butt further into the canine's palm, surprised to find that he was relishing the supportive--and a little possessive--hold. The Saint Bernard's hand was big enough to practically engulf his ass cheek, with his fingers clenching into the cleft of Cove's ass. The Saint Bernard squeezed, eliciting a soft "oh!" from the tiger shark, and the canine's belly shook as he chuckled. "And some of it in that mouth...and if I'm not mistaken, I think you want some of it in your slit, too...you do have a slit, don't you, kid?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Cove smirked playfully, thinking about the bulging slit in his crotch, currently hidden under his jeans--his dick hadn't emerged yet, but it was definitely feeling tight in there as his cock pressed against the warm, pre-slicked folds of flesh holding it back; even getting one of the Saint Bernard's long, thick fingers to slip down his pants and into his slit would be a treat. "Any chance you could give all of that to me?" Cove asked, emboldened by the Saint Bernard's forward move.

The canine huffed ruefully and patted Cove's rump before letting go. "You're a cutie, for sure--but I think I'm going to really want to savor some time with you if I bump into you in the future. This isn't the time or place...for me, at least." He heaved a sigh as he surveyed the writhing crowd below and continued, "Sad thing about Hightower is that most everyone here is just trying to put another notch on their belts...no real connection or appreciating the experience."

"I mean, you can do that in the dark rooms in the back...but then there's no real audience," Cove added wistfully.

The Saint Bernard scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, the dark rooms--not exactly the most exciting places, either."

"What do you mean?"

The large canine leaned on the railing and scratched his chin. "Kid, I've been coming to Hightower for years--started off as having some good times, exploring scenes, but now it's just to see if anything's really changed. The most extreme action I've seen in a dark room here is some good ol' vanilla vore. It's hot to watch a guy disappear like that, but it's still pretty tame compared to the real raunchy stuff that's out there."

Cove's eyes widened. "You think vore's tame? What other clubs have you been going to?"

The Saint Bernard chuckled. "Just one. Might tell you a little more about it if you're really interested." He reached over again, but this time, instead of groping Cove's ass, the Saint Bernard placed his hand on the tiger shark's back, as if holding him in place and comforting him at the same time. "But first, why don't you tell me about yourself--a sweet thing like you in a place like this, you've got me curious..."

Cove's heart flipped at both the physical attention and the Saint Bernard's commanding tone, and he began babbling away.

For the next two hours, the two of them had talked over the music, with only an occasional casual glance at the orgy happening below. They eventually migrated from the railing on the second floor balcony over to the bar, where, even though a Dobermann dancer shook his jockstrap-covered bulge in their faces to get their attention and tips, Cove just couldn't take his eyes off of the Saint Bernard sitting next to him. He seemed like such a gentle giant--Cove could imagine the huge canine easily folding him in half, but doing it tenderly and passionately, as if the two of them had danced that dance a thousand times before. As they talked, Cove had shared his passions, which the Saint Bernard seemed keenly interested in; their conversation touched on the mundane, such as Cove's love for working out, music, and dancing, and his graduate school work.

"So astrophysics degree work by day, warehouse worker and cute dancer by night, eh?" the Saint Bernard asked in between sips of whiskey.

"Well, I don't know about cute dancer," Cove emphasized, blushing; his fourth lemon margarita for the night had gone right to his head, and he was soppily staring at his conversation partner while his heart thundered in his chest.

"Oh no, I think you know what you're shaking, kid. Enjoy showing off, no shame in sharing what you've got," the Saint Bernard told him. "Plus, you've got the brains and love for the stars to back up the cute factor--smart and sexy, I'm kind of surprised you're single. There've gotta be plenty of guys out there who'd be snatching you up like sushi."

"Oh, you like a little tiger shark sushi?" Cove giggled, flashing his teeth.

"I go for a lot of different food, kid," the Saint Bernard smirked as he laid his hand on the bar to help support himself on his stool. "Yeah, a little cutie like you might be on the menu."

"I'd be more than alright with that," the tiger shark chuckled, taking a chance and laying his hand on the bar so his fingers touched the Saint Bernard's.

They moved from talking about Cove's interests to another park of the conversational spectrum: Cove's experiences and desires for pushing his sexual boundaries and some of the Saint Bernard's favorite fetishes.

"Sometimes there's just nothing better than sliding my arm into a willing boy and turning him into a puppet for a few hours," the Saint Bernard said at one point. "Here...go on, cop a feel," he said, proffering his arm. Cove gripped the canine's meaty forearm before moving up to the bicep and tricep--he could feel the Saint Bernard flexing, and the limb bulged with girthy, python-like bands of muscle that contracted and swelled under the tiger shark's smaller fingers. Excitement bubbled up in the pit of Cove's stomach as the Saint Bernard continued, "Every boy I've ever fisted, I've always gotten all the way up to the shoulder--it takes some work and patience, but it's worth it when I can just lift them up by their insides and get my bicep hitting their prostates."

"Oh...oh damn," Cove said faintly, his imagination going wild. His hole twitched with a sensation he'd only felt a few times when going on long binges of porn late at night: hunger. It was as if the Saint Bernard's unfiltered sexual prowess were aggressively awakening something in Cove, a deep-seated desire for...what, exactly, he couldn't describe. But it was making him long for something so much more intense than his comparatively vanilla pursuits, which often ended with Cove simply topping his partner for the night doggystyle.

Nobody had ever talked to him as if he were "smaller" before, and yet this Saint Bernard was acting as if it would take no effort at all to simply pick him up.

Nobody had ever let Cove ogle and grope their monstrous arms to feel their weight or made him imagine their massive heft sliding deep inside of him.

Nobody had ever stood in front of him in a manner that prominently displayed their package for him to stare at, and yet the Saint Bernard was practically advertising his obviously enormous cock that was filling out the bulge in his leather pants.

Cove licked his lips, envisioning the giant canine taking him to task, working over every inch of him inside and out as he took him deeper into a realm of kinks and fetishes that the tiger shark had only ever fantasized about. There was something so genuinely alluring, so temptingly domineering, so potently masculine about this Saint Bernard that Cove was simply hanging onto his every word, reveling in the attention this giant beast was giving him, and only wanting more, to please him, to be with him, to be used by him, to learn from him, to be protected and wanted by him.

His hole twitched again needily under his tail, an itch that had just surfaced and was already dying to be scratched.

"Hehe, yeah, I told you that there's a lot you're wanting under that thick tail of yours," the Saint Bernard smirked. He laughed and playfully rubbed the side of Cove's face before taking another sip of his whiskey.

By the end of those two hours, Cove's head was spinning; it felt as if he had known this Saint Bernard for 10 times longer than their short time together. There was just something so familiar and friendly about the giant dog, as if they'd been a part of each other's lives for so long and hadn't seen each other in years; Cove was laughing and giggling; the Saint Bernard was holding his hand--even letting Cove's smaller fingers explore the ridges and valleys of his palms and pads--and squeezing his muscled arms; Cove was rubbing his foot up and down the canine's legs; and the dog was giving the tiger shark his full attention, even if his eyes were still hidden by the brim of his leather cap. The way the Saint Bernard talked--whether that was sidestepping Cove's questions about himself or ordering another drink for the smaller tiger shark he'd taken under his wing for the night--Cove would describe him as accessible and authoritative, as if he was some nurturing, guiding figure who had the tiger shark's best interests at heart and yet still seemed aloof and domineering. Their sentences flowed into each other, picking up each other's conversational threads and carrying them from topic to topic as easily and smoothly as a river cascading from one small pool to another. Cove just felt so thoroughly at ease, so relaxed and...right with the Saint Bernard...as if he was where he belonged, as if the stars themselves had aligned to give him this time with the giant dog...and so it came as a surprise that the dog eventually announced it was time for him to leave for the night.

"Already? We were just getting started, weren't we?" Cove asked, a playful pout forming on his lips.

The Saint Bernard laughed and rubbed the tiger shark's cheek. "After a fashion--although now that I think about it, you and I might have some more to do together later."

"Oh really? How much later?" Cove asked, a doofy, toothy grin on his face.

"That's going to depend on you," the Saint Bernard said as he stood from his barstool. He rooted around in one of his pockets for a moment before he produced a business card and handed it to Cove.

The card was a matte black, save for a small, white logo of a paddle with a D on it, the word "DOMINO" underneath it, and a web address. The white lettering and logo glowed brilliantly under the black lights that shone down over the bar.

"Remember when you asked what other clubs I go to, where vore's tame?" the Saint Bernard prompted as Cove stared at the logo. The canine authoritatively tapped the card. "That's the one."

"Domino...I've never heard of it," Cove mused.

"It doesn't get a lot of publicity, but a cute kid like you...I think you'd do pretty well in it," the Saint Bernard huffed, casually tucking his thumbs into his waistband as he gazed down at the tiger shark. "It's not for the faint of heart, but give it a try, see what happens."

"And what if I just want to see you again?" Cove asked, looking up at the Saint Bernard.

"Oh, I think you'll find a way," the dog said cryptically.

Cove stared at the card again, and then realized that the entire night, he'd never once caught the Saint Bernard's name. "Oh...god, this is...I'm really sorry, I don't think I even know your name."

The Saint Bernard grinned, his thick lips curling and his nose crinkling. "Aw, that's cute. I was wondering when you'd get there."

Cove looked up at him, puzzled, but before he could say anything, the giant dog leaned forward, looming over him. The Saint Bernard bent over slightly and kissed the top of the tiger shark's head, distracting Cove while his large hand slid down along the tiger shark's back and shoved into his pants. Cove jerked upright on his stool in surprise--bumping into the Saint Bernard's broad, barrel-like abdomen as he did so--but the canine continued to wedge his hand even deeper into the seat of the tiger shark's jeans, until his fingers crept under the base of Cove's tail and tapped on the boy's tight wrinkled hole.

"Oh!" Cove gasped in surprise at the sensation of the thick digit knocking on his back door. The stimulation was enough to make him relax his pucker, hungrily opening for more; he groaned softly when he felt the rough pad on the Saint Bernard's digit--still tapping at the same steady tempo--hit against his moist, warm, inner muscle.

The Saint Bernard chuckled when he felt the little star under Cove's tail loosen up. The flesh just inside the tiger shark's rim was warm, tight, and juicy under his experienced finger. He kept beating his digit like a thick stick against a taut, wet drumhead for another minute; the whole time, he stayed firmly lodged in the tiger shark's personal space, forcing Cove to rest his head against his sizable, firm belly while he moaned and huffed the Saint Bernard's scents of sweat, sandalwood, and tobacco. Eventually, before Cove began drooling from the teasing on his hole, the Saint Bernard withdrew and stood upright again while he cupped the side of Cove's face, his heavy hand gently pressing on the tiger shark's cheek. "I think I'll see you around--I've probably given a smart guy like you enough to find me."

Cove had been like a man possessed--as soon as he had woken up again the following morning, the Saint Bernard had been on his mind, he just couldn't get the large dog out of his head. So he had tried the web address on the business card that he'd received, only to find that he needed dark web access to enter Domino's site. After getting a VPN and getting into the Tor network, Cove found Domino's site easily and spent that morning reading through the club's activities, mission, and rules and limits--his eyebrows had risen so high as he read through the trove of information that it felt like they were going to pop off of his head.

He had tried finding a members page or some way to contact the club for member information, but Cove soon realized that the only he was going to intentionally meet the Saint Bernard again was if he joined Domino--there was no way the stars would align by chance again for him to meet the dog at Hightower Bar, not after going there so many times and only meeting him for the first time the previous night. No, Cove would need to find a way to get into Domino.

And now, tonight, after so many months of working and waiting, he was here, naked and locked into a dysfunctional freezer with 13 other initiates. Cove had scoped out Hightower every week to see if the Saint Bernard had put in an appearance, but he'd seen neither hide nor hair of the giant. So if there was going to be a night to hopefully see him, it would be tonight, initiation night.

Cove's heart fluttered as he thought again about his reason for being here--there was something almost juvenile about it. Was he really going to try joining a club like Domino all because of some guy he met one night five months ago?

If he was being honest...yes.

There was something there, he'd been sure of it; some kind of chemistry, some kind of connection--he didn't know what it was exactly, but it felt real to him. And the Saint Bernard had listened to him, had talked with him for a while that night--surely he was interested, too, right? Cove couldn't have been imagining it...he had to take the chance that there was something genuine here.

And even if there ended up being nothing but air between him and the Saint Bernard, there was still the overall benefit of joining Domino. Cove could have the time of his life here with or without the Saint Bernard--obviously he'd prefer to have his cake and eat it, too, but membership alone in Domino would be a good consolation prize. After seeing the pictures he'd found on Domino's site and reading the descriptions of their events and club functions, Cove understood that this was one of the most respected and challenging kink domains he could find, and membership here would allow for truly unique experiences.

"Well, for me, I was looking for something really...fulfilling, I guess," Cove said, addressing Erlich and Kia.

"Yeah, I get that--personal enrichment, right?" Erlich said with a grin. "Something to fill that gap...maybe that's the gap in my personal life, or my heart..."

"More like the gap in your hole," Kia quipped, nudging Erlich's side.

The beaver chuckled. "Whichever gets filled first!"

"It's going to be your ass, guaranteed," Kia said. He looked at Cove as he said, "This guy definitely did some serious stretching work."

"Oh really?" Cove asked, intrigued. "Think you're going to need it for tonight?"

"Well, I don't know what they're going to have us do for initiation, so it helps to be prepared, right?" Erlich replied.

"Dude, there's prepared"--Kia held one hand level with his chest to demonstrate being on one rank--"and then there's you." He held his other hand just above his head to demonstrate an even higher degree. Smirking, the orca dropped his hands and continued, "How many pool balls are you able to put in there?"

"I was up to four before I got picked up," Erlich grumbled humorously.

Cove's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Yeah, it's a big gape back there." Kia nodded knowingly. "I know they said we can't do anything while we're waiting, but I don't think that includes showing each other what we've got. Go on, show him," he told Erlich.

The beaver rolled his eyes. "Ah, nah, he probably doesn't want to see--"

"No, no, I do!" Cove said eagerly.

The beaver paused and looked uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Kia sighed and grabbed Erlich by the shoulders. "Oh, stop being a tease"--the strong orca twisted the beaver's shoulders, spinning Erlich on the spot so his backside faced Cove. The tiger shark watched interestedly as Kia forced Erlich to bend over, and the beaver spread his legs as he did so. "And show off what you did!"

The beaver raised his large, paddle-like tail, displaying his furred cheeks for Cove, and then reached back to spread his glutes. The tiger shark watched the rounded buns part, revealing the puckered hole amid the dark fur--the rim was puffy and bulging outward, like the chute of a small volcano. Erlich clenched for a second, making his asshole wink, before he relaxed, opening a wet void that started with a ring of red and faded to black in his guts, and Cove could see that the beaver's gape was large enough to admit a fist. Erlich grunted, and Cove watched his ass quiver with the physical effort of pushing...until a rosebud formed and bloomed a few centimeters out of Erlich's hole. The red, silky, wrinkled mound of inner flesh glistened under the glare of the fluorescent lights above, and Cove could actually see the distended rectal tissue pulsing with Erlich's heartbeat.

The tiger shark's mouth watered, and his cock throbbed against the inside of his tight slit as he imagined chomping on the beaver's rosebud and nibbling it with his sharp teeth. He had never seen a prolapse like this in person--the ones he'd seen in pornos were engorged, swollen beyond belief, the product of actors pushing themselves beyond the limit, but this one that was just presenting itself in front of him looked simply delicious. He wanted to taste it...more than that, there was a strange throb even deeper within him. It was almost an ache in his lower gut, a hunger similar to what he'd felt that night he'd first met the Saint Bernard at Hightower.

Cove whistled low through his excitement. "Damn, how long did that take you?"

Erlich relaxed, and the rosebud sank back into his hole while Kia finally released his shoulders, allowing the beaver to stand again. "Just a few hours--I've done a lot of rough play before, so that wasn't anything extremely special."

Cove laughed. "Man, now you've got me curious what 'extremely special' means to you."

The beaver winked. "If we both get in tonight, then you might just find out!"