Literotic asexstories – Hot and Fuzzy Pt. 07 – Finale by Emilymcplugger,Emilymcplugger
This episode does contain some BDSM stuff (spanking) and some pegging scenes (it is not a pun because HOT FUZZ stars Simon Pegg by the way) so if this isn’t your bag then like Spaced (another Simon Pegg vehicle) just skip to the end to find out how it all resolves.
As I’ve said each time there will be mild spoilers for the film on which this work is loosely based and so I would suggest you watch that first.
For everyone already familiar with the film, all participating characters in the following works are over 18.
That’s it.
Day 5b – To the Manor, Bone.
Sleep had somehow claimed me as the week’s exertions finally seemed to be taking hold. I don’t know how long I was out for, but as I twitched into consciousness I had a feeling I wasn’t alone, that I was being watched, that I was in danger. I opened my eyes hoping I was wrong, hoping it was Mel, but it was not Mel, it was Big Bad John in a black robe with a gormless look on his face.
“I’ve come to get you,” he informed me.
“You…you’ve come to get me, have you?” I asked.
“Yarp!” John replied. Yarp? What the Hell did yarp mean? I got my answer as he stretched an arm out, no doubt trying to grab me to finish me off. Not bloody likely. I rolled off the bed and threw myself at him, however he saw that coming, grabbed me, spun around and chucked me against the wall.
“Let me get you!” instructed John, whilst stomping over to me. I got up and launched a punch, unfortunately it was a punch that he ducked. I launched a second punch that he then blocked and finally a kick that he stopped and used to thrust me against the bed.
“Stop stopping me getting you!” Big Bad John shouted as he moved, quicker than his size should have allowed, to try and get hold of me. I rolled off the bed and John dove over it to try and grab me but instead missed me and grabbed the cuddly bunny I won for Danny.
“Aw!” Big Bad John remarked as he looked lovingly at the Bunny. I grabbed the only thing I had as a weapon and decided I needed to get John’s attention.
“Hey, big fella!” I stated. John lowered the bunny and looked at me, his eyes full of curiosity. “Will this knock John out?” I said to my eight-ball, before throwing it at his head.
SMACK!
The eight-ball hit him square in the middle of the head and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, knocked-out cold. I watched as my precious eight-ball spun through the air and I dove to catch it, watching as the ball tumbled to the ground but thankfully fell sweetly into my outstretched palm. I checked to see the answer which was now just muscle memory.
You may rely on it
“Fuckin-A, eight-ball, fuckin-A!” I replied to my closest confidante. It was then I heard a ringing sound coming from John. I searched his pocket and found a phone with a name and a face on the screen.
Bryon Butcher.
Bryon. That did make me chuckle briefly. I answered it and in my best attempt at imitation said…
“Yarp!”
“Hello, John. It’s me. Byron. Have you got the Sergeant?” the supermarket manager asked. It all made sense now. John was the avatar for his boss’s crimes.
“Yarp!” I continued.
“Everything’s going to plan?” Byron pressed further.
“Yarp!” I replied.
“There aren’t going to be any problems then?” Byron queried. Shit! What the hell did I reply to this?
“Nerp!” I responded, less than enthusiastically.
“Good!” Byron replied. “Meet me at the Manor as planned,” and with that the phone went dead and he was gone. I was gonna meet him at the Manor all right. I was gonna meet him in a way he’d remember for the rest of his life. I took one brief look around before heading out but was stopped in my tracks at the door.
“What the fuck…” a voice came from the door, a welcome voice, the voice of my partner and my best friend, Dani.
“It’s a long story, but I know who’s responsible for all these mysterious deaths,” I explained, as Dani’s eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity.
“Who is it? Do you want me to come with you?” Dani asked. My heart was lifted by her supportive remark and I finally felt like I was turning the tide and getting the assistance I needed.
“No. What I need you to do is ring your Dad, get to the station and summon Talia and the two detectives, Booker and Barber and get them to meet me there. Don’t come till those guys are with you,” I commanded. Dani nodded and removed her phone.
“What are you gonna do?” Dani asked.
“I’m gonna take down the person responsible for all this,” I replied, determined to make everything right in both the community and between me and Mel. I left my eight-ball on the floor, confident in my ability to bring the nightmare of the last few days to a fitting close.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
I ran up to the Manor from the back in order to remain unseen. From this angle the lights at the front of the building created an eerie and imposing silhouette on the landscape. I waited for backup to arrive expecting any minute that my team would appear and we could collectively storm the Manor House. But no-one did. Ten minutes merged into fifteen, combined into twenty with me sitting there feeling utterly frustrated till I finally realised…this was something I had to do myself. I moved my legs as fast as I could, with no signs of Mel and the failed attempt to get me by Big Bad John I can only assume she was in real trouble.
I headed inside through an unlocked door, slid my way through the utility rooms unseen and undetected and then got to the main stairwell of the house where I first heard the chanting. It had a vibe of a cult or the occult, or maybe even an occult cult, whatever it was it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I stalked the steps and followed the sound to a room where the ominous voices were coming from. There in the room was every member of the Forston Surveillance Organisation. From Sylvia and Shaun to Martin, Michelle and Martine, Doctor Deborah Diviner, Catherine Carter, Roger Roper, Hugh Huntsman and Byron Butcher among others. There must have been twenty people all sitting around a huge round table, all of them wearing long black robes.
It was then I realised the mistake I had made. It was not one person who was carrying out these mysterious deaths, it was this murky cabal. The chanting stopped and Sylvia began the meeting.
“Quick announcement, Joyce Joiner, manager of our residential home has got a new springer spaniel whom she has named Mister Jobby,” Sylvia reported to assorted “Ah’s” from everyone around the table.
“Thanks, Sylvia. Now, as you may or may not know, we have taken care of the problem of Sergeant Angelo by sending Big Bad John to deal with him. Once this has taken place there will be nothing to stop us and we can focus on winning the village of the year award for our twentieth year!” Roger announced. I couldn’t believe it. They thought they had gotten away with sending Big Bad John to deal with me. I was delighted to take a huge steaming shit on their plans.
“Oh I beg to differ, Mister Roper!” I commanded.
“Michael! You made it! But where’s Big Bad John?” Sylvia asked, looking behind me.
“The person you sent to “take care of me”, well I took care of him!” I announced to gasps of fear from everyone present.
“You killed him!” Martin asked, appalled.
“No, of course not, he’s just unconscious on my hotel room floor,” I corrected them as they all breathed a sigh of relief. “Wait-a-minute, you wanted me here!”
“Well of course. We can’t move forward without you,” Hugh, the humanist, responded. My head was spinning now after my confrontation with Big Bad John.
“You seriously think I would want to get caught up in this? IN MURDER?!” I asked.
“MURDER?”
“Whose murder?”
“Someone was murdered?” they all kerfuffled and questioned before Byron shushed everyone and then spoke, seemingly as the unelected leader of this cartel.
“Sergeant. No-one was murdered. The only killing taking place here is by you…of our good mood,” Byron Butcher pointed out.
“You expect me to believe that five mysterious deaths in a matter of days was nothing more than a coincidence?” I asked. The assembled peeps looked around at each other and consulted, their hoods moving comically like puppets before they all answered in unison.
“YES!”
“You see whilst I loved your crazy speculation over their demise the truth is far more straightforward. Clive Clark’s fate was the result of him being…an appalling driver,” Byron announced.
“APPALLING!” They all agreed.
“Clive Clark was a coke-head who loved nothing more than driving his Jag as fast as possible whilst getting blown by Carly,” Catherine suggested.
“He’d been done for speeding so many times it was ridiculous!” Shaun pointed out. “Did you not have a look at his record?”
“Well…what about Tristan Taylor? Are we meant to believe that one of his own diggers drove through his own house?!” I shout to make myself heard and deflect from me not checking Clive’s driving record. “You all hated that house and I’m sure a number of you wanted to see it gone”.
“Tristan Taylor’s mansion has been a source of contention from day one, yes. But our main concern was safety,” Doctor Deborah Diviner reminded me.
“There’d been a number of accidents on the site and a YouTube video showed several pieces of equipment shorting out and starting due to Tristan getting the cheapest labour, cheapest chargers and cheapest vehicles,” Martin commented.
“Eet was such a joke, ee turned ee’s cameras away from zee propertee,” Michelle continued, finishing the sentence with her delicious French accent which transformed English into something almost poetic.
“If it wasn’t for Raymond Wright our safety concerns would have been taken seriously and Tristan might have been saved from a fiery death,” Roger Roper offered as a solution to assorted nods from everyone in the meeting chamber.
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