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When It Comes To Clean There's Only One Mister

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Billy Mays sat at the edge of his bed, staring distantly around his room. Perfectly white walls that held only a few pieces of equally white furniture. A dresser, a desk with a white lamp, a basket where he kept his laundry, and his bed. White sheets, soft except for the pristine starchiness of them and a cloud like comforter. He laid back on the pillows, dressed in nothing but a pair of white sleep pants. He though, as he often did, of the white figure always skirting the edge of his memories.

As usual he seemed like nothing but a dream when Billy thought of him, ethereal, just beyond the grasp of his mind. Like a plague he thought of him, constantly butting against his subconscious. Trying to get him to remember something, but what?

Billy sighed, strong arms reaching up to grasp at his pillow. "DOESN'T THIS SEEM LIKE A PREDICAMENT?" He rolled to his side, restless thoughts tapping at him like knocking fingers. He closed his eyes and resigned himself to a night of restless dreams he would only half remember.


Billy Mays sat as he usually did in his kitchen, sipping at a hot cup of coffee. "A GOOD BREW, TO CURE WHATEVER AILS YOU." He stared distantly through his window at the picturesque scene that could be seen just outside.

Birds chirped and hopped from an old willow tree scraping the side of his house. A small squirrel darted across his lawn to climb the tree, pausing partway up the trunk to stare at Billy. He smiled and waved at the critter, but the squirrel simply stared with it's beady eyes, a darkness seeming to form in them he couldn't understand. It almost seemed like it was trying to warn him, a sharp motion with it's claw across it's neck and Billy looked back down into his cup of black gold. He felt the prickle of goosebumps up his strong masculine neck and shivered.

There was something wrong, Billy could feel it.

And upon looking around at his kitchen, all shiny steel appliances with dark oak cabinets he got a strange feeling of deja vu. Like he'd already had this particular cup of coffee, sitting in this seat, watching this same scene out the window. Save the squirrel of course.

He glanced around nervously, suddenly aware of a piece of this morning that was missing. There was a bright flash, familiar, but which he could never determine the origin of.

With that flash he knew.

A large figure stood before him, bald head gleaming handsomely in the soft scenic light the wide windowed kitchen afforded. He wore a white T-shirt stretched across rippling muscles, paired with khaki slacks that hugged tightly to rippling thighs. Billy gasped. "YOU'RE THE CLEAN TO MY MISTER!"

This was what had left that hole inside of him, the large throbbing piece he felt missing.

The man approached him like mist, his movements dripping hot sexually charged energy that Billy could barely track with his eyes. A strong hand was wrapped around his neck before he really saw the man finally arrive by his side. Fat fingers squeezed sensually like sausages wrapped around his throat, Billy gasped a hot throbbing erection already straining against his dark blue denim jeans. The fashionable pants burst open as if by magic and his sweaty cock leapt to attention, crowing with delight. Billy's arms flailed, knocking his coffee across the counter, though he barely noticed through the haze of lust crowding out everything but this man.

another meaty hand stroked down Billy's face, the perfect mouth of the perfect specimen before him opening and flexing as he talked, though all that could be heard was a disconcerting static buzz.

Billy's searching arms reached out for the other, though he could never quite touch him, he moaned pitifully, tears leaking from his erect cock as much as from his eyes.

His body roiled desperately in the others sizzling grasp, weeping cock thrusting towards the man, Billy trying to connect them even as he felt himself being forced away.

With a loud wooshing noise, he was being thrown from the room, away from his kitchen, and the man, no ANGEL inside. Because that's what he felt like to Billy, an angel he could never reach. He saw the squirrel out of the corner of his eye, the small creature shaking it's head forlornly. Billy knew what he was being warned against now, this involvement with an otherworldly being such as the rippling muscle man would only lead to heart ache. He closed his eyes tightly against a darkness that spread across his vision and across his very soul.


Billy Mays woke with a start, sweat across his brow and trickling down his glistening thighs. He noticed the tent straining in his pants, and his whole lower half felt like a swamp and he groped along his dresser for something to mop up the mess. He sighed when his searching hands found nothing. "TIME TO DIG OUT THE TRUSTY SHAMWOW."

Billy felt a hard punch in his lower abdomen, like he'd said something he wasn't supposed to. Something unnatural, something unknowable to him, like the white figure that did or did not exist.

He shrugged is off and struggled out of bed, huge erection getting tangled in his sheets as he tried to break free. Like a swaying palm tree it toppled, pulling him the rest of the way out of the infernal white linens. He sat at the edge of his bed for a moment, trying to remember his dream and only coming up with a lonely aching feeling in his love hole. He sighed and left in search of some sort of quicker picker upper.


A figure stood just outside of the human's view, cloaked in an unusual darkness, a being born of the light. But light wasn't very good for stalking, so darkness it was. He curled his bulging biceps across his body, crossing his arms and pursing his lips.

The human was remembering him in his dreams, this was bad.