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Boredom plays tricks on corgi minds. As Cosmin kissed his Aurel goodbye for the weekend his major concern- of course behind bus accidents and the like- was that he would get lonely before the sheepdog could return 0900 Monday morning. But the lonely dog could stand at the door for as long as he wanted, it wouldn’t be opening for another… 62ish hours. Not except for the times he’d open and close the heavy oak himself.

Not being one to go into anything unprepared, Cosmin had put in his requests for social time with the usual friends. The timing couldn’t have been any worse. The University sprung this whole thing on Aurel so suddenly that by then everybody seemed to have plans. A few had said they would find time to have a coffee or see a movie, but for the corgi a weekend separated from his sheepdog was too long a gap to fill with coffee and movies. He had his time set aside for catching up on laundry, for doing a little weeding in the garden and getting some milk and bread at the market. And he was even looking forward to the first bundle of hours that he could do nothing at all but unload responsibility from his shoulder and let thoughts of exotic zentai and elaborate uniforms waft through his head.

But in the first few moments following Aurel’s departure the drain those thoughts were meant to escape from had clogged. As Cosmin fretted about his partner's journey, knowing it would still be a couple hours before he received a text that Aurel had arrived at the hotel, he couldn't relax. He had already done most the real chores in the bustle of preparing for Aurel to leave. Now that he was gone Cosmin buzzed with the anxious desire to be productive despite nothing to spend it on.

He could have started chasing his tail in frustration if the perfect idea hadn't struck him like a bolt of lightning. Perhaps the one thing he hadn't planned about the weekend and Aurel’s return was the outfit to greet him in. Surely after days of advising students at a hectic conference his husband would be ready to appreciate all the comforts of home.

It would be unfair to say that Cosmin had a closet. You don't convert a study to hold all your favorite garments, a modest pedestal to model upon and a mirror wall looking out onto the front yard- just to call it a closet. Panel doors all along each wall opened like pantries to reveal three rows of hanging garments, drawers at the bottom of the wall to the right for accessories of both fashionable and sexual natures. The corgi let his loose-fit running shorts fall to the ground, nothing underneath on the days that he kept house. He tossed it and his tee into the hamper, opened the windows and took in a deep breath of fresh air, as if it had all been so constricting.

For a moment the corgi enjoyed the peace, his tail wagging lazily behind his birthday suit as he stood with his paws on his hips and watched himself in the mirror with his cock bobbing back and forth as he swayed. He turned around and gave himself a solid smack on the hip, a dumb grin splitting his short muzzle as he admired how sexy he could look when there was nobody around for him to look sexy for.

But it wasn’t going to make anything special to greet Aurel in the nude- the sheepdog surely wouldn’t mind, but he came home to his corgi doing this or that in the buff more often than not already. No, Aurel would certainly arrive wanting some comforts and luxuries and Cosmin thought he had just the outfit in mind for it.

Each of the three sturdy bars hung dense with fabrics, one would think the wall might come crashing down. But Cosmin’s taste for finer things might be the only thing the made the entire overbuilt system and the sheer number of options crammed into it at all feasible. Only by forcing his two dainty paws into the mass and spreading them apart could Cosmin actually look at anything at all, but the scientist’s mind had a knack for knowing exactly where to put file paws to get what he needed. He put the stepstool down, climbed it it to the third row, and pulled from the mess a negligee in a soft chartreuse of the softest silk.

It was a degree atypical, yes- rather than the usual spaghetti straps this negligee crested in a creased collar around the corgi’s neck, so that Cosmin could tie around his neck the gift bow that belonged behind him. At least, he could after locating the matching hue among the shelves nearby the entrance. Did it take a solid ten minutes and a half dozen vulgarities in two different languages to get the damn thing on and looking proper? Of course. But the moment he slipped on the accompanying sky blue stockings and sleeves he knew it would be worth the curses and the little choke around his neck.

It had taken weeks to figure the whole thing out, but the mirror wall was truly the feature of Cosmin’s dressing room and perhaps the pride of all his designs. Even the parallel bars behind the panel walls on each side of the room mounted into the fragile glass. Not the most efficient way to go about it, but the itch of uniformity and completeness drove the Corgi’s need to expand the mirrors to cover the entire street-facing surface, only the pairs of windows as plain as the skylights above breaking the plane.

Introducing a stranger to the room implied the vanity of a heaving giant, not the short beanpole of a lap dog that spent so much time lavishing on the plush pedestal- truly moreso a great ottoman, four maple legs supporting a plush puck four feet across padded in down and lined in olive green satin. When Cosmin knelt or rolled on it the tingle of the fabric made his fur stand on end and skin underneath effervesce.

The mounting system had taken nearly half a month alone to design and test to his satisfaction, and then he spent a few days wavering on which specific pattern of shapes would be easiest to install across the whole thing. But the genius of it, the necessity of it, was the natural light let in from the windows, two of them about four feet apart on the wall that looked out from the second floor onto the peaceful street below. The vaulted ceiling enabled a high wall where an ambitious architect had carved out space for a half moon window of stained glass that poured a rainbow of light into the dressing room each morning when Cosmin entered to dress.

As if that weren’t enough, a pair of square skylights let enough sun pour in Cosmin would swear he had the only closet in the country with as natural lighting as the out of doors. So when the corgi turned and posed coquettishly to admire his reflection he could appreciate the pastel palette draped on his short, slender figure, the cartoonish bow bobbing behind him as he cocked his hips and batted eyelashes at himself, and he could admire himself in the softest of lights. He hugged himself against the impossibly slick material and pressed it against his fur like he wanted to subsume its softness into himself, back arched at the center of his oversized ottoman.

Surely a strong option, Aurel would probably pounce from the door and fuck him on the kitchen countertop. But, then again....

As Cosmin removed his lingerie and returned it to its place he considered the drawbacks. A Conference is a long time to spend indoors and he’ll arrive early in the morning besides. Maybe he won’t have his dander up so much as he’ll want to go out for some fresh air. And it has been circled on the calendar for weeks that Monday would be the start of the Meadowlark’s annual public access- a tax scam, and everybody knew it.

Every year the Meadowlark would open its course to non-members at a modest fee. $1 per round, an unbelievable discount from the $50 greens fees members themselves paid. An absolute steal to the common golfer.

Of course, hardly anybody became a member at The Meadowlark to play the brutish eighteen holes rudely cut from an unwanting and unwanted swamp. They became members at The Meadowlark to meet with the best kinds of people to meet, the kind of people who would put up their child’s college fund against your child’s college fund on the outcome of a college football game.

The Meadowlark then took the difference between what the riff-raff like Cosmin and Aurel paid and what their own members paid in order to write it off as a charitable expense: providing access to beautifully preserved green space to low-income persons.

Abusive of the system, yes, but cheap golf is cheap golf. And if they’re going to leverage the public interest in recreation for tax subsidies then by golly, Cosmin is going to bring every bit of his public to the country club. After he and Aurel finished all eighteen holes in their matching outfits it’d be worth the breach of public trust. Or they might simply be impressed they hiked that far without passing out in their skintight latex golf ensembles. Cosmin in a lime green, Aurel in an electric blue.

The short sleeves clung tight to his arms, under his armpits so as not to impinge his They’d match perfectly, both in the same white cuffs and collars and the same white latex booty shorts, cut only to cover the bare minimum. Rain or shine, the white knee-high latex wellies were a necessity, and though Cosmin may sweat the outfit wouldn’t be complete without them.

Cosmin admired the outfit on himself, swinging a faux club, piecing together how to properly end his follow through with his hip cocked and tail raised to display the goods. He would have to do enough strutting for the both of them- the shaggy sheepdog in his latex always cut just slightly too comical a figure to want to throw a walk into an ensemble. Under all that Aurel would not only be terribly sweaty, he’d come off halfway… poodle…-y… … ...

Maybe that wouldn’t exactly be the best way to greet him home when you think about it.

No, no… that really wouldn’t work at all. They’d have all week to strut their stuff in front of the snobs, Aurel didn’t need to be greeted at the door with some huge adventure taking on corruption and petty public thieves. No, if he wanted to go out it would probably be a short walk in the park to catch up with each other, stretch his legs after a long weekend of sitting on buses and sitting standing at lecture… but is that what he’d be doing? Was it even clear to Aurel when they told him where to be and when? No- no, there’d be no way really to know how best to help his sheepdog relax after the long weekend.

The sweaty, tight briefs had squeezed Cosmin’s package into a tight bulge and as he slipped the latex off he fluffed his junk. Why must the sexiest things be so constraining where it matters most? He returned the components to their proper places and stood before his wardrobe wondering what could possibly split the difference.

Suddenly the inspiration struck. Cosmin bounded to the closet outside the door and threw it open, a grin from ear to ear as he wondered how the decision could have ever been difficult at all. Still protected in plastic, Cosmin tore the garment free as he bounded up the steps two at a time, leaving the detritus on the floor for less exciting times.

Back in his his dressing room, Cosmin aired out his cock one last time before and couldn’t help but watch himself as he slipped the white hosiery over his feet- though, not uniform white. These pantyhose had been what made Cosmin click “Order” on the whole outfit without hesitation. Just above the knee the white gave way to a sheerness that showcased the corgi’s brown fur, the face of a smiling cat with pink ears peeking over the corgi’s knee as he rolled the nylon over his legs, reducing his fuzzy legs to sleek, slender forms.

After allowing himself a moment to pose and admire his slender figure in the pantyhose, a blush coming on his cheeks and a pulse stirring in his dick, Cosmin decided to complete his outfit before he could riled up enough to make it difficult. The corgi slipped into the green latex outfit, his dick throbbing and growing even before he could get his arms through the holes. Reminiscent of a one-piece swimsuit, the main piece of the outfit fit snug over his package and left nothing of his backside to the imagination. Around the waist the latex thickened to give the illusion of a belt, and an accompanying bow hung spritely to his side.

Over his arms matching white nylon gloves gave him a servile affect, and to to top it all off: his favorite green headband, fashioned from an emerald broach gifted to Cosmin by Aurel on their honeymoon. Perhaps the most tantalizing piece, Cosmin blushed as he fit the collar around his neck, a bell tingling a tinny ting under his adam’s apple. The outfit became truly complete as the corgi’s taut bulge spurred to life, the modest tube of the corgi’s pride growing directly toward his navel.

There wasn’t a tremendous amount of room for doubt. Already Cosmin burned for his lover to be there and see him, to be unable to resist him. It was all he could take not to ruin the surprise with a teasing pic or two for the sheepdog to enjoy on the ride over. The corgi impulsively rubbed at his crotch, bending over and swaying his tail behind him, sticking his slender legs out like he was hitchhiking and mugging for the mirror.

“Oooohhhhh,” the corgi moaned to himself in need, the sight of himself in the mirror and the knowledge of the days of denial ahead of him becoming too much. He had resorted to humping the air in front of him when he decided there was only one proper way to handle this kind of separation anxiety, and that solution was in the bottommost drawer underneath the ratty tee shirts for paint projects.

The dildo struck a bold resemblance, save for its teal shade- and not immediately unordinary but not something Aurel would ever want Cosmin to allow their friends to see. The teal dong bore no imposing presence as some more extreme toys might, this one anatomically proportioned yet satisfying and in fact modeled after a particular toy that Cosmin had ought to recognize very well. Cosmin promised two weeks of packed lunches to convince Aurel to actually use the “Cast Your Cock” kit, but the clever corgi knew times like these it would the would prove incomparable to any other marital aid.

Centering himself upon the satin pedestal, Cosmin laid on his back, and popped the toy in his mouth like a lollipop. It was an uncanny valley version of the real thing, but it was about as close to it as one was going to get for the next... 61ish hours. Cosmin pushed it past his tongue and let it settle first in the back his throat and then slowly down, at least until the abbreviated rubber ballsack rested on his chin. It might taste like spent gum, but it sure filled his throat like the real thing. Cosmin whimpered as he thought about the time between now and the real thing.

He knew others spent much longer times away, at much greater distances, but the corgi being the type to grow attached couldn’t help but feel his canine impulse to wait at the door. He popped the dildo from his lips and pressed it against the bulge in his crotch, whining to himself as he mimicked Aurel’s favorite way to tease as they suited.

Cosmin took deep, greedy huffs of air, not sure if he was causing or helping the spinning in his head, the bell of his collar softly jingling as he tossed his head back and forth. His back arched as he frotted the toy, the minutes piling up as he edged until you could see the nylon lining his crotch begin to darken with his pre.

More than once he felt compelled to simply find purchase with his paw and get it over with, even considered turning over his stomach and humping the sheets. But there’d be so much time left to wile away. He tried to think of Aurel, still sitting next to somebody on a bus somewhere.. Maybe, in some way, this focused state of reverence would find him and if it would through some mysterious power bring him just the slightest tingle, it was worth it for Cosmin to simply rub the totem cock and think of his husband.

He thought of his scent, the pad of his feet down the hall, the dirty dishes that piled in the sink. And- what made him blush most of all- he thought of his dick. Of that glorious gift swinging between the humble sheepdog’s legs that always hit him just right to-

The corgi moaned and thrust his hips in a wild frenzy and the bulge in his latex pulsed, soaking into the fur underneath yet perfectly obscured by the furtight latex. He barked and howled in ecstasy as the pleasure of his new nylons and agony of separation brought him to a dramatic climax. He tossed over onto his side and rolled from his perch, crashing onto the rug below with a yelp and a dingaling, then curled into a ball as the last few pangs continued the expansion of the wet radius around his crotch.

Cosmin took as much time to lay there as he needed, eventually dozing off into a light snooze before coming to with a start a half hour later, having to remind himself in a moment why he was in the fetal position, why he was on the floor of his dressing room, and why he felt so sticky and lightheaded. He undressed, sticky fur matted to the inside of his latex, and put his nylons aside. As he made his way down the steps to the laundry area, Cosmin, his exposed cock flopping with every step, smiled with the anticipation that next time it’s due for cleaning he’ll have a pair of loving helping hands.