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Cove stood from his seat and put his hands out to feel for any obstacles in front of him. When he felt nothing, he took a few shaky steps forward, stopped to feel again, then resumed his course, trying to keep in a straight line. As he walked, he strained hard to hear something--anything--through the headphones, but there was nothing. He fumbled in the dark, stepping forward tentatively, trying to feel out for things he might trip over.

Suddenly, his foot made contact with something--it was soft and...covered in fabric? Cove frowned, puzzled. Was it a cushion of some kind? Just a randomly thrown pillow to try to trip him and the other initiates up? He prodded it with his foot, trying to define its dimensions...then thought again and simply kicked it aside and out of his way. He didn't have time for this, he needed to give his key to his handler! Breathing fast from nerves, the tiger shark continued in the dark...step after step...until his hand finally met another in front of him. Surprised, he traced his fingers over it, taking a moment to feel the details...no, this hand was wrong, it was rough and leathery with claws, and the skin was even more textured than the leathery hand he'd felt on stage; there was certainly no fur on it like his handler's. The tiger shark reached out to the right and took a slow step that way until he found another hand.

This one was furry, although much smaller than his handler's.

"We're about halfway through the initiates!"

Cove quickly abandoned the man he stood in front of and moved to the next handler he could find--he envisioned that they were standing in a line along the far side of the room, their hands outstretched and waiting. The next hand he felt was another leathery one, which he dismissed. Next was a furred hand, with thick pads in the palm and on the fingers...although were they as rough as he remembered? A hint of doubt crept in, and Cove decided to move on, but he kept the man's position in mind. The next hand he felt was also covered in fur, but this was much shorter and more bristly...

Cove's eyes widened under his mask when he felt a hand he instantly recognized. Rougher paw pads that were broad and warm, long, thick fingers with a fur coat...and most importantly, he could smell faint traces of tobacco and sandalwood. That was his handler, the man he'd chosen--without a moment's hesitation, Cove dropped his key into the man's open palm.

"Hrlk!" Cove lightly choked as his handler's other hand immediately landed on and encircled his throat. Terrified for a second, Cove started to go for the paw wrapped around his neck--he wanted to pry it off, to breathe normally--but the moment he did, the hand squeezed harder; where before he could breathe comfortably, now his trachea felt tight and strained. But then he remembered the point of this challenge: This was about putting himself in his handler's hands...in every sense. Cove had entrusted his chastity to his handler, and now he had to entrust his safety to him, too.

The tiger shark let his hands fall back to his sides, and his handler's grip eased, now laying his hand at the base of his neck and resting it on his collarbone. The two of them remained like that, with Cove simply standing before his handler while the man maintained his hold on the tiger shark's throat. Over his headphones, Cove listened for the next initiate to hand his key over...and the next one...and the next one...until--

"All 15 initiates have handed their keys over," the announcer finally declared. "We'll be losing the five slowest of you, plus one more who failed the task by giving his key to the wrong handler. When I call your number, take a step back from your handler."

Cove swallowed--his throat bobbed against his handler's palm.

"Numbers 2, 7, 8, 9, 11, and 13."

Relief briefly took over, and Cove exhaled the breath he'd been subconsciously holding in. Then the tiger shark's eyebrows rose when he remembered that 13 was Kia's number--the big orca had been removed? Had he been too slow or had he gone to the wrong handler? Cove stayed where he stood--just as he assumed the other initiates whose numbers hadn't been called would be doing--and waited in silence for another minute before the announcer's voice sounded over the headphones again.

"You've made it further than all of the other applicants and beyond the first round of eliminated candidates--while you're not officially members of Domino yet, we recognize that you have worked hard, and hard work earns rewards," the announcer said. Cove's heart thumped in excitement. Would he get to take off the blindfold? Could he choose how long he was in chastity for? Could he ask for the Saint Bernard to appear? "The reward you've earned for making it this far is the knowledge of what consequences await you if you fail your initiation: You will be turned into a rubber drone."

The tiger shark's stomach dropped and he slightly jolted in surprise.

"That's right. Every rubber drone you've met tonight, and every rubber drone who works for Domino, is a failed initiate," the announcer elaborated--his voice sounded almost maliciously gleeful as he spoke. "And the six candidates who just left us don't know it yet, but they will be joining their ranks. You can still be one of them, too, if your handler determines you fail at any point during the remainder of your week of initiation. Now you know the consequences for not completing initiation, which will hopefully motivate you to succeed!"

Cove couldn't help but nod in agreement--no way did he want to get turned into a drone for the club! That's not what he signed on for at all! He mentally shuddered at the thought of how it would happen for the six initiates who had failed this evening. Would they have thick, black rubber poured over them, sealing them away permanently and turning them into mindless slaves? Would they be zipped up into a suit and brainwashed, their memories and personalities erased with the press of a button? Would Kia and the others be engulfed in some kind of sludge-like goo that forced them to forget who they were? What about all of the other drones that he hadn't seen--were they all lurking around somewhere? Were they put into storage when they weren't in use? He could only guess at the answers to his questions, and while part of him was morbidly curious about what the truth fully entailed, he fervently hoped he would never have to see or experience it for himself. No, he would complete his initiation no matter what--being turned into a rubber drone wasn't an option at all.

"Now, before we send you on your way, you need to begin your initiation week for Domino properly," the announcer continued casually. "Initiates, assume the position for guidance."

Cove frowned, puzzled. What did that mean?

But he didn't have to wonder for long--with his one hand still on Cove's neck and the other on his shoulder, his handler powerfully forced the tiger shark to turn around on the spot, then bend over into a squat. Cove instinctively raised his tail as he squatted, and a shiver ran up his spine when he felt two large fingers press on the rim of his ass. Cove grinned, waiting for his handler to insert his fingers...but he kept them right where they were, just centimeters away from penetrating his hole. Enough to tease him with the promise of more, if only Cove would...

"Initiates, down!"

At the command, the tiger shark understood what he was supposed to do. He took a relaxing breath and slowly shifted his weight back and down, settling into a lower squat while his puckered sphincter began to open. Cove felt his handler's fingers slide up into him; without lube, they pressed roughly past the rim and into his rectum, but Cove forced himself to take them. This was just the beginning of what he wanted, just a taste of how much he wanted to be used. He sank further and groaned as the thick knuckles pushed inside, stretching the taut sphincter while his ass hungrily swallowed the fingers, all the way to the base, where he rested against the top of his handler's palm. Cove could feel the backside of his handler's fingers resting against the button of his prostate; a sudden longing, a deep, aching desire rolled over Cove, a hunger for his handler to press hard on that button. He wriggled his hips lightly, trying to adjust to the sensation--it was so hard to keep still, and his handler's fingers were so big and...almost assertive, as if they were entitled to be inside of him, entitled to be pushing on his sensitive insides without a care about how he felt. And yet he clenched around the digits, relishing how they filled him and signaling to his handler that, while he was squirming, he was enjoying the stretch on his ring and in a space that had gotten so little attention in general.

"Good. Now each initiate will recite the oath--this was in your onboarding email and you've had plenty of time to memorize it." the announcer said. "There's no cheating here; you can't hear your fellow initiates say it, the whole oath is on you. But remember the consequences if you fail to say your oath correctly. You can still be removed from the running to be a member of Domino."

Cove clenched involuntarily, his ass squeezing his handler's fingers while the man's other broad hand was still wrapped around his throat, the thick digits lightly drumming on his neck. The tiger shark could remember reading the oath; it had been a set of six numbered lines of white text on a black background in the email he'd opened. He'd practiced in a mirror at home for days trying to get each line right--lines five and six still gave him trouble, though.

"Begin."

Cove took a breath and, disregarding the muffled quality of his voice and doing his best to be as clear as possible, started, "In the spirit of servility, I take this oath of Domino's code and place myself upon the rack, as I am well-informed and aware of the risks of activities that happen within this space."

The tiger shark could see the oath words in his mind, and he moved onto the next two lines. "I provide my personal consent for all activities associated with--ah!" Cove had to stop and gasp when his handler pressed his fingers into his prostate, sending butterflies fluttering in Cove's stomach and making his cock twitch hard behind his chastity barrier. The tiger shark took a breath to collect himself and continued, "...with Domino and humbly ask for the consent of my handler, with the understanding that any kink within the confines of Domino can be considered an alternative to sexual activity. I swear to heed and obey my handler's guidance and commands, as my handler's word is law and I swear my loyalty to him in exchange for his wisdom, experience, and protection."

The fourth line came easily. "Within Domino, there is only one safe word, a word to which I am not entitled and do not know yet, but will be permitted to use if I am deemed worthy."

"With humility and grace," Cove started, but then paused...did he get the order right here? He was pretty sure. He took up, "I submit to the power beyond myself...the power that is used on me, and the power I may be allowed to wield if I am deemed fit to use it."

"I ask that I be allowed a station within this divinely perverted union," the tiger shark continued, smiling at the memorable descriptor that Domino used for their club, "with the sworn duty to uphold and protect our code...to live mindfully as a practitioner of kink...and to guard our secrets."

He lapsed into tentative silence again, praying he got the order of the final line correct.

The only thing in Cove's ears was the sound of his pulse, beating with anticipatory dread--he didn't hear a peep from his headphones.

He softly grunted when he felt his handler's fingers wiggle inside of him again.

"Number 15, you failed your oath."

Even though Cove couldn't hear or see the initiate, and didn't know which man it was, he could imagine him struggling and pleading not to be taken away and turned into a rubber drone. Would he be kicking and trying to run away? Or would he eventually accept his fate? Cove knew that he would do everything he could to escape--fortunately he wouldn't have to, at least for now. The tiger shark hung his head and exhaled in relief, grateful that he wasn't the one who had fucked up his oath.

"That leaves us with eight initiates!" the announcer continued after a moment, presumably to give the other rubber drones the time to drag out Number 15. "Don't congratulate yourselves yet, though. You still have a whole week of initiation activities to complete. Your handlers will now escort you home and help you prepare for your upcoming tasks. And we're looking forward to seeing how many of you make it back for the welcoming ceremony next week!"

The second the announcer finished speaking, Cove grunted--his handler pulled his fingers out of his ass, leaving the tiger shark feeling empty and needy for something else to fill him; his hole clenched on open air as he remained squatting over nothing. While his handler still kept a firm grip on his neck, he used his free hand to yank Cove's headphones off and let a flood of sound rush into the tiger shark's ears. Men were laughing and chuckling with each other, their voices echoing off of wide metal walls; loud music was thumping in the distance, as if there were a rave somewhere else in the building; other initiates were grunting or gasping in surprise.

"Ah!" Cove breathed when he felt his handler's grasp tighten on his neck, pulling him up to stand straight and take a couple steps backwards towards him. Warm breath rolled over Cove's shoulder, and he could tell that his handler stood right behind him, his muzzle right next to his face.

"You're mine now, kid," his handler whispered gruffly into his ear--Cove shuddered excitedly. "Let's get movin'."

"Y-yes S-aahck!" Cove wheezed as the hand around his neck tightened.

"Did I say you could speak?" the handler growled.

Struggling for air, Cove opened his mouth to reply, but thought better about a more appropriate response, and he quickly shook his head.

The fingers around his throat relaxed, and the tiger shark could breathe easily again. "Good boy."

Warmth and pleasure filled Cove's chest at those words, a sense of pride in that he did the right thing for his handler.

"Don't talk until I tell you to." Without further ado, the large man kept his hold on Cove's neck and began half-dragging and half-pushing him away, as if keeping the tiger shark in front of him and forcing him to march forward.

Cove couldn't figure out where they were going. Doors swung open and he could feel the small wakes of wind of people passing him; at first, it sounded like the music was getting louder--and therefore closer--but then it began to fade again. He heard the footsteps of other handlers and initiates, some of them coughing and gagging, others talking amongst themselves, but his own handler stayed silent. The only direction Cove got from him was a twist on his neck to the left or right, telling him where to turn. Cove stumbled a couple times in a combination of trying to be cautious (as he didn't want to run into any walls) and wanting to match pace with his handler (who seemed to have a longer stride compared to him).

Eventually, Cove heard the creak of another door swinging open, and a soft gust of cool, fresh air blew over him--the chirping of insects and the light breeze on his skin confirmed that he was finally outside again after...he didn't know how long it had been. He yawned and shivered, tired beyond belief as the chill made him marginally more alert; it could be dawn for all he knew, his blindfold was still on and keeping him submerged in pitch black. Cove's handler pushed him along over the rough asphalt beneath his feet, and then the tiger shark heard the telltale beep-beep of a car being unlocked and the click and soft hydraulics of a trunk being opened. Cove continued stepping forward until he felt the bumper of a car against his thighs, and his handler stopped him.

"Climb in," he commanded, his voice rumbling low like thunder.

The tiger shark complied, carefully raising a foot and placing it in the trunk of the car. From the height, Cove figured it must be another sedan--maybe the same Mercedes he'd ridden in earlier. As he gingerly knelt on the floor of the trunk and shifted his weight into the car, he felt out the sides of the space; the trunk was pretty cramped with a low ceiling, there was just barely enough room for him. While he contorted his body to lay on his side and folded in on himself to fit, his handler at last released his throat. When Cove was completely in the trunk, he heard the swift push of the door being swung down over him and the loud thunk of it locking into place

.

"Catch you boys later," Cove heard the muffled voice of his handler call--it sounded like he was walking around the car.

"See ya, big guy!" another muffled voice replied. "Your guy's gonna..."

The other voice faded too much for Cove to hear the rest of what was said, the speaker had moved too far away for him to make it out. He shuffled on his side, making himself more comfortable--and feeling the chastity barrier in his groin press against his slit--as the car jostled from the weight of his handler getting in. Then the driver door thumped shut...the engine came to life with a gentle purr...the gears shifted, and Cove felt the vehicle start to roll forward, with him as nothing more than simple cargo stowed in the rear. To the casual passerby, there was nothing out of the ordinary, just a man driving his car late at night...nobody locked in the trunk...not a thing to arouse suspicion while he was ferried away...

For a moment, Cove considered the very real possibility that his handler could just abandon him on the side of the road if he wanted; he could do even worse than that, if he wanted to. Cove's eyes widened behind the mask, and he gulped nervously--he hadn't told any of his friends about his activities for tonight, he hadn't shared his location, he hadn't told them to call the police if he didn't contact them by a certain time. Hell, he'd even left his phone and wallet at home (per the club's instructions for tonight), all he brought with him was the key to his house...and he had no idea where it was, along with the clothes he'd stripped off in the kitchen earlier that night. Nobody would have known if he went missing if he'd been turned into a rubber drone--why didn't he think about this earlier, when he was at risk of being converted into a slave for the club? Now he'd practically allowed himself to be abducted, with the supposed promise that he was being taken home...but what if he wasn't going home at all? What if his handler was actually going to pull off to the side of the road and...

No...no, Domino was a reputable club, right? They took all of this seriously, and his handler wasn't going to harm him or let him come to harm, right? Cove hugged his arms close to his chest, soothing himself with that thought--he would be fine, he'd be completely unharmed, and he'd wake up in his own bed. This was all just part of the initiation experience.

As he calmed down, Cove thought about removing his mask...but shrugged to himself when he realized there wouldn't be any point, as the trunk would be just as dark as his blindfold--really, the more he thought about it, the more Cove realized that he might as well settle in and just enjoy the ride. There was nothing he could do about getting out of the trunk, after all. As the car rumbled and bumped under him, the tiger shark closed his eyes beneath his mask and yawned widely before he began breathing evenly. He was so tired...tonight had been so long, he could have just a little doze...and then he could really sleep when he got home...where his handler was taking him...his handler...he hoped...he wanted him to be...