Hot And Fuzzy Pt 07 Finale

Hello everyone, one more time. So after the rip-roaring success of the first sex-story I ever wrote I have now finished my second new sex story...ish, this time based on my favourite buddy cop movie. Yes! We've finally reached the end (yay!)

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.

"And Raymond Wright? You surely don't expect me to believe that the humanist chapel roof collapsed on him, unaided?" I queried with the assorted throng.

"Raymond Wright is the reason Raymond Wright is dead!" Sylvia barked, before Shaun chimed in.

"As head of safety and planning he let the chapel deteriorate so he could have it condemned and pick it up cheaply for demolition," Shaun furiously commented.

"We had asked him for months to release the funds so the repairs could be carried out. After all, it's a grade II listed building," Doctor Diviner pointed out. "Didn't you nearly get hit by masonry?"

"What? Oh. Well yes," I recognised, before Byron butted in.

"Raymond Wright purposely let the structure of the building worsen to the point of dereliction," Byron said with visible venom. "The chapel is a big part of the village and its status as a symbol of this community and its values. Raymond Wright had no values and so suffered his fate at the hands of the Karmic Universe".

"THE KARMIC UNIVERSE!" they all chanted.

"And Grace Gardner?" I asked, puzzled. "Am I meant to believe she just impaled herself on her own shears?"

"Grace was notoriously clumsy with those bloody shears!" Martin whinged. "She nearly had my eye out a few times, and she cut her own finger off, don't forget".

"But the person who attacked her tried to grab the shears! I saw them!" I raged at the assembled group.

"What you saw was me trying to save her life. I only popped in to give her the invite for tonight's meeting and she impaled herself, but rather than leaving them in she tried to remove them," Hugh Huntsman said with everyone nodding. "I mean Roger was with me, he saw, didn't you, Roger?"

"I did. Grace tried to take them out which, anyone who has ever been impaled knows, leads to instant blood loss. Hugh was trying to keep the shears in to make sure the wound was sealed, which is when you saw him cut himself. We even called for an ambulance after you got flattened by that car," Roger informed me, giving Hugh a cast-iron alibi, with the FSO managing with a few sentences to render my suspicions of this being some village-wide cover-up to be completely bogus.

"This isn't some grand conspiracy then?" I challenged them, as they all sat around with puzzled expressions.

"NO!" They all replied, in unison.

"So, if this is no grand conspiracy...then where's Mel?" I demanded. For a moment all that fed back to me was silence, before a cheery voice intervened

"Mel's fine, Michael," Frank responded, emerging out of a shadowy doorway, also wearing a long black cloak, but rather than a hood over his head, he had an old-fashioned policeman's helmet. "We brought her here before just like we tried to bring you".

"So, you can do what? Use her as the play-thing of the Forston Surveillance Organisation?" I asked to the assorted amusement of everyone gathered here.

"We are not the Forston Surveillance Organisation," Byron Butcher responded, wiping away tears of laughter. "We are the Forston Swinging Orgy-ists!"

At that, those at the table removed their hoods and undid the front of their robes to reveal naked bodies galore beneath. I stared at Catherine, her caramel, pert breasts and curly bush standing out in front of most of the others. It felt like she was too good to be caught up in all of this?

"I thought you said when we were together that this was the first time you'd been that intimate in years?" I asked, remembering what it was she said to me after we finished making love.

"Yes, that's true. It was the first time I'd been intimate and close with anyone like that for years...this is just sex!" Catherine remarked. It was then that the jigsaw puzzle of the last seven days of lunacy and madness all slotted together perfectly. I had created Catherine as this lifeboat to rescue myself from my failing marriage, like she was this perfect woman, when really there was no perfect person that could save me, I had to save myself, and possibly even Mel.

As they started to move from behind the table I sprinted out of there, determined to find what had happened to my Mel. I ran down the corridor and saw candlelight coming from behind two stained-glass panels in a door. I headed over and stared through the glass in wonder.

On a Queen-size bed were the Christian couple I had seen protesting about the sordid filthy state of the world. They were both naked and she was sucking on her husband's cock with wild abandon, working the length with her hand, seeming almost desperate to pump his seed into her mouth, all whilst she was being ploughed from behind on the bed by someone else I didn't recognise, their hips smacking together loudly, her muffled noises of delight and her husband's throaty groans all combining in a lustful symphony of delight. The young woman disengaged her husband's rod from her mouth to give instructions to the guy behind her.

"URGH! Stick that cock in my ass!" she instructed the guy behind her. I watched, paralysed by curiosity and dread as he slowly sank his length inside her anus. Once there he pulled back and started hammering away again as she started to suck on her partner's cock again. "MMMF, HNNF, GRRR! Oh yeah, fuck that ass! Fuck me in the ass!"

I watched as the three people undulated in a twisted rhythm before the primordial part of my brain reminded me why I was there. Mel! Find Mel!

I ran to the next room that had light cascading from it and stared through the window at the occupants. On this bed were four people, two I didn't recognise and two I did. There were two women with their heads hanging over the edge of the mattress, their mouths open and lips quivering. One of them had long, dirty-blonde hair in loose curls, the other jet black hair, shorter and with tighter curls. Between their legs were two men I did recognise...It was DS Booker and DC Barber, their faces between the two women's thighs as they feasted on their sopping holes. The dark-haired woman looked down at DS Booker and chuckled.

"What's...MMMM...what's so...oh, fucking Hell...what's so funny?" the blonde asked, looking over at her friend.

"Your husband's...got...a moustache," the raven-haired woman replied. The blonde looked down between her legs and saw DC Barber devouring her tasty slit and she laughed as their pubic hair looked like their other halves' ticklers.

"Oh yeah...so does yours," the blonde replied with a smirk. The two women then moved their faces closer until they were within touching distance and began to kiss whilst the other one's husband provided oral pleasure, each one of them lost in the moment. It certainly explained why my back-up never arrived.

I moved down the corridor looking in various rooms, most of which were empty until eventually I came upon one that wasn't, and my heart sank before it tried to beat its way out of my chest as panic set in. I gazed through the window and saw Mel...and she was being tortured. Mel was naked and had leather restraints around her wrists and ankles, holding arms and legs apart. Behind her was Doctor Bart; the wide, lumberjack of a Doctor who was also without clothes, his state or arousal over my naked wife obvious, but he wasn't sticking his dick in her. Oh no. What was happening was much worse. He was paddling her arse. Mel was attached to some kind of gimbal and this brute of a man was slapping her backside with a wooden panel.

SMACK!

"Ungh!" Mel whimpered, clearly in pain. Doctor Bart teased her after the paddle had cracked against her backside.

"You've been a very naughty girl haven't you?" Bart chided my Mel.

"Yes," Mel whispered. Bart moved his hand back to strike her again, bringing the wooden panel down fiercely on the other cheek.

SMACK!

"AAAAGH!" Mel screamed. I couldn't believe what was happening in front of my eyes. I didn't even want to imagine what Mel must have been feeling.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Mel wandered through the house feeling like Alice in Wonderland, albeit a naked Alice in wonderland beneath the black gown Frank had provided her. Mel had been told that the house contained numerous worldly delights for her to sample. She had thought of inviting Michael but decided against it. The two of them had issues unresolved and having him here may well confuse her. Best to resolve those after the monthly gathering of the FSO (Mel assumed that it stood for Forston Surveillance Organisation) where apparently they all got together to have some sort of huge blow-out. She had come here with numerous people; Emma, Euan and Frank, amongst others. Mel felt comfortable being here with their familiar faces around. The grand ballroom where they were gathered held around sixty or seventy people. It was nice to relax and enjoy a laugh with good company before Frank apologised and said he had to take care of some urgent business and left, at this point Mel also decided she'd had enough and elected to go off on her own and explore the old Manor House.

Mel wandered down a huge corridor of the former castle that had been converted into a grand stately home some time in its past, as she did she would gaze into the rooms, many were empty but some had started to be occupied. In one room a man and woman were on a bed, the woman had curly mousy hair that was strewn over and down the side of the bed. She was led on her side with one leg outstretched and her other leg in front of her, the guy was sat astride the outstretched leg, powering into her, the woman's breasts jiggling with every thrust, the two of them heavily into each other as they locked eyes.

"You like it deep, don't you?!" the guy barked.

"Oh, yeah. So deep! So fucking deep!" the woman meekly responded as the sound of their hips smacking together could be heard in the hall.