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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Prison Sex Murder: Billy's Heroes
Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2000 14:10:06 -0400
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Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction
http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00)
http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00)
http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon
http://www.farragher.com (Poetry updated 9/20/00)
TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher.
TxM6 Hyperfiction Novel
0888X News Report
Billy Reese and Friends
Chapter XXX News Report:
June 17, 1980
WHYN News (Austin,Texas) reports today in
an exclusive CNCN news report, that a prison
guard had gone berserk murdering the Academy
Award winning actor, Donald Hall. Shot three
times in the heart and head by Texas State
Marshall Joseph Hedron.
In the prison riot, no guards suffered injury.
Two inmates suffered minor wounds and were treated
at the prison hospital.
Today, State Prison officials and Warden William
T. Stallings, 53, at a Press Conference at the
prison, took serious exception organizing the
activity at the prison as a police riot."
The Warden said continuing, "this irresponsible
charge undermines the reputation of all
Corrections Officers, and he demanded an
immediate retraction and apology. At no time,
had any prison guard 'gone berserk,'" Stallings
claimed... "and the report by WHYN is grossly
inaccurate. Donald Hall was not murdered during
a police riot. The inmate died of gun shot wounds
inflicted by a police sharp shooter after the
inmate had seriously attacked two prison guard
with an exacta knife seriously cutting them."
New Texas Governor, Joseph A. Allen, sworn in
just last week, also attended the News
Conference. The Governor in a two sentence press
release stated this morning: "I am here in
support of Warden Stallings and all law abiding
State Correction Officers. They serve the people
of Texas protecting us from violence, crime and
corruption."
TV news anchor, Cynthia Rawlings, in an
exclusive new report from the Texas State Prison
refuted the earlier WHYN news report as
inaccurate and misinformed citing what appear to
be serious errors made by the newly hired radio
station news manager, Fred W. Whissant, 29, who
apparently had mistakenly broadcast that a
police riot had caused the death of an inmate at
the State Prison.
The station manger, Cynthia Rawlings claimed,
refused to reveal his primary sources at the
State Prison. He claimed he had corroborated the
riot report and murder of Donald Hall using
radio frequency traffic picked up from the State
Police and the Prison Radio Stations operated by
the inmates but under prison supervision.
Three independent and reliable sources
corroborated our story, the Station manager
claimed. "We often employ prison employees and
inmates as stringers," Fred Whissant concluded.
"The State prison System is an integral part of
our local broadcast Community. Out of fairness,
the names of the stringers will not be released
at this time."
Reporting for rival WXST TV Austin, Ms. Rawlings
reported that "Lieutenant Davis Joseph Hedron,
47, a supervising Correction officer at Texas
State Prison, for the past fifteen years here,
and a former Staff Sgt in the Marines Corps and
a much decorated Vietnam Vet had shot and killed
the actor in a brief fire fight during a prison
escape and lock down. The thirty three year old
actor had reportedly wielding a make shift knife
and had without provocation attacked two prison
guards, Correction Officers John A. Mohr Jr., 28,
and Mary W. Rawlings, 25.
Sources at the Maximum Security State prison
indicated that the actor had refused to be
stripped searched (after an earlier apparently
unrelated prison escape attempt), and during the
struggle with the guards, Prison officials
alleged that the inmate Donald Hall had pulled a
makeshift knife from off his person, and then
after seriously wounding John A. Mohr had taken
Officer Rawlings captive, apparently planning to
use her as a hostage and bargain for release.
Lieut. Hedron, after repeatedly warning the
inmate to release Officer Rawlings and throw
down his weapon, fired three rounds using a
laser sighted automatic weapon instantly killing
the inmate, Donald Hall. The two prison guards,
injured during the incidents, were treated for
cuts and released from the County Hospital this
morning.
Doctors at the County Hospital in Austin, after
being repeated questions by reporters, released
the following statement today, "...Prison guards
treated at the hospital after the prison escape
and riot, yesterday, are being released after
medical treatment for 'anxiety associated with
work related stress.' We did not treat the
Correction Officers for any physical traumas as
previously reported. We regret the error their
medical treatment at the hospital Emergency Room
was routine and entirely precautionary."
An unnamed news source also reported that the
Corrections Officers would not be taken off the
duty roster, and would report tomorrow for their
scheduled shift had been sentenced two years ago
to ten years to life in state prison for
statutory rape and criminal incest. Prison
inquest held this morning. Donald Hall
pronounced dead at 4:12 AM today did not know
how deep the cover up fucked up life. It would
not be revealed that is for sure. The Cover Up,
not Revealed:
Lieut. Davis Joseph Hedron, 47, a supervising
Correction Officer at Texas State Prison, for
the past fifteen years here, and a former Staff
Sgt. in the Marines Corps and a two tour much
decorated Vietnam Vet had executed Donald Hall
for allegedly raping his fourteen year old
daughter, making her pregnant.
Donald Hall, in fact, had never met, nor could
he ever have met, Lieutenant Hedron's daughter,
Patty, 14. Unfortunately, Donald Hall resembled
a local Datrix gas station owner, Mitchell
Reisen, 38, who was a widower with two
daughters, Heather, 13 and Samantha, 11.
The three girls, best friends, with each other
since first grade, played daily at the pool
behind the gas station. Mitchell Risen and Davis
Hedron, good buddies, former marines, and
Vietnam Vets drank whiskey and soda,
resurrecting broken down stock cars as a shared
hobby.
Last summer, for a long month, when Heather and
Samantha were at Christian camp in Michigan (a
gift of the Reisen grand parents), and Patty was
not, the young woman, wearing colorful halters
and shorts (or a bathing suit and towel), rode
her bicycle casually through the gas station
islands, while Mitchell worked on cars, or
pumped gas. He obviously enjoyed her company,
and when it got busy, she helped out, pumping
gas, checking oil and water. Mitchell even let
her drive her father's car in the back lot
knowing the girl wanted to practice for her
license next year.
Back home, father worked fifteen hours a day at
the prison, and Patty's mother, Janice, 30, ran
a downtown used clothing store and had a lover
on the side.
My parents are always busy Patty complained, and
Mom's messing around with somebody, Patty
confessed to Mitchell, please don't tell Joe,
she begged, realizing she may have revealed too
much, Patty pulled back, joking about it, but
she knew she hadn't fooled anyone. The secret
was out for good, and there was nothing I can
do. Patty was sad, but resigned. Then, Mitch
surprised her.
Your father knows, he said. Your mother told Joe
last year. They like their family, as it is, and
neither wants to divorce, so they came to an
understanding. Your mother has a lover, but your
father has one too. Who is it, Patty asked. I
know Mom's seeing that Dentist, who just opened
a practice on the mall, but who is Dad's lover?
You know her, Mitchell said. When Mitchell told
her the woman's name carefully, so softly, it
could not be heard. He felt lost, and realized
he was opening a secret box too big for the
child to ignore and too powerful for the young
woman to fully tolerate. After all, its one
thing for a daughter to know her mother is
fucking around, Patty said later, describing
what had happened to Heather, when her best
friend returned from camp. But now, with
Heather's father, she coyly covered her ears not
wanting to really hear, or see the face of the
woman who made love to her father. I'll hate
her, Patty thought, and then, as if confused,
bewildered, unsure, she begged Mitchell again,
tell me, Who is it, please, I've got to know.
It's the English art teacher at the High School.
Georgiana Wells. She taught you last year, that
is how your father met her at your first art
show.
Then Mitchell looked down, felt the cold room
shut behind him, after this confession to Patty,
he added, I doubt I would be able to let such a
thing pass without challenge, he said. I loved
my wife but she is dead not two years. I miss
her every day. I have been so lonely, and if it
were not for Heather, Samantha, and you too,
Patty, I do not know. You and Heather have
changed so much. Last year, you were kid,
playing in the basement with dolls. Now, we are
telling dirty jokes, playing cards, and then he
thought, but did not say:
"Really Patty, your look, talk, and act like a
woman. I know you won't be fifteen until next
February. You're my best friend's daughter, how
can I..."
Patty, looking at the stopped man, at the speech
he said, through her mind, if not her ears. What
do I do? I cannot lead him. What do I know? I
care for him. I want to help, and instinctively,
she reached up, and did the right or the wrong
thing depending on what you consider right and
wrong.
Patty reached up and touched Mitchell's cheek,
letting the tear melt under her finger. She
ruffled his hair, and then she caressed his
cheek letting her nails run through the grooves
of his face, finding each line attractive, each
pock mark from ancient acne, a secret cave for
exploration.
Mitchell let her hold his face, and then taking
her hand, he kissed her, letting himself enter
her mind, feeling her body respond, she said, I
don't know what to do.
Not here, he said, we will go back home, OK.
Just until Heather and Samantha return, Patty
said. Not realizing what she had said, she spoke
it carefully, like an adult planning an outing.
These things are considered and these are not.
Plans are choices, and imply connection and
completion.
Lead into the graveyard, running over the
minefield, the soldiers died softly, holding
their comrades in battle.
Mitchell just did not make love with Patty, he
taught her the power of her body, how to move it
gracefully under him and then above. He taught
her to touch lightly, with staggered pressure,
letting her mouth work his penis, making it hard
and then powerful, letting him come inside,
feeling the richness of the semen as it pushed
inside her mouth and wet her throat. Patty
kissed him gently, afterwards, mixing come and
spit.
They did it all. Nothing withheld. They played
games. He pretended to be a little boy, and she
was the schoolmarm. He was the old man, who
needed a nurse, and she was the bashful lady
fucking four men, one after another, and Patty
told him as they fucked, hard, rolling around,
what each man had done that was special even
asking forbidden questions. Have you ever wanted
to fuck your daughters, she teased him one
night, and when he withdrew, Patty became cruel.
I am Heather, fuck me she shouted at him. I am
Samantha let me blow you, and taking his cock in
her mouth she made him come, and she knew he was
resisting, and at first, she feared he would run
from her, and then suddenly, he joined in,
calling her Heather, Samantha, Annabelle. Yes,
that is my wife. She fucks us too, and watches
now, see her in the ceiling. And what about your
father, dear Patty, you want him, that's why
your mad about the art teacher.
You want him to see us now, to take him to bed
with us, to fuck his spirit as he fucks your
daughters, Patty laughed, this is a miracle, how
can I be so lucky, and when she came, she felt
her father's hand on her clit, pushing it, and
when he came, he felt Heather's tit, and his
wife's hair in his face.
Patty was wanton, not bashful, feeling the
expansion, the tide, as an artist of images she
loved the possession. In ten days, they made
love for a century, and when it was over, they
would rest as god did after the last day.
"I hold him," Patty screamed.
"I'd hold him in my hands, and feel that life
swollen and fertile, I will breathe with him,
allow each short breath to reach higher, and
then slower. Finally, as we pass by the other,
up and close, down and inside, I feel the other
voices, that chatter of fools thinking what he
has taught, what we do, as exploitation."
"No, It is not that . . . I exploit him as he
does. It's equal. Age is irrelevant. I knew what
I did," Patty wrote in her diary. "Dear Father,
I love him, she said. He loves me. We are both
single, and could marry with your permission."
"In two years, when I am seventeen, I will do it
in any case. Nothing will stop us," she wrote
not as a defiant schoolgirl but as a woman
knowing what was real, and what was not.
"There is balance now, in my life," she said.
"He is my support, as I am his."
Patty and Mitchell had secretly made love a
thousand times in ten days.
"Yes, that's an exaggeration, and every day, it
was better than most know in a life time."
"And yes, the one terror."
They knew they had to keep the secret. And there
was the times when Patty's father came to the
pool, and they had one, tow picnic, and then
another time, Patty's mother asked Mitchell if
he as fucking her daughter. He denied it.
"You're a liar, but I understand," Why can I
accept it, he thought?
Finally, when Mitchell's daughters returned, as
agreed, they stopped making love, promising to
remember, and Patty told Mitchell that she
wanted him to find a woman he could proudly
love, and not hide.
"I found her," he said. "It's you."
"No, we can't. Patty does not know it, but she
was pregnant when Heather and Samantha returned.
Heather knew immediately when she saw Patty
shadow her father's movements, that Patty and
her father were lovers. "
"It's OK. Heather told Patty."
"What?"
"I know."
"What?"
"You're sleeping with my Daddy"
"Not my Daddy. Do not be silly. I know, and it's
OK by Samantha as well."
"What did you tell your sister?"
"I told her about you guys at breakfast."
"Does she know, you know, about it?"
"Are you kidding?"
"Who told her?"
"At camp that's all you talk about?"
"I thought it was religious, that's what your
father said."
"Holy Fucking Christ and they laughed. "You got
let me tell about this one guy. He was twelve,
and all the ten-year-old girls loved his ass. He
must have had some kind of sex with every
fucking one of them. They were wild.
"You're full of shit," Patty said.
"Got me. OK, I like to lie; sue me. Don't you
tell tall tales, sometimes, your self, (pausing)
no I guess not?"
"I love your father, Heather, Ain't no mother
humping lie."
"Does Joe know?"
"No, but my Mother thinks its OK. She walked
into his bathroom at a picnic last week, and I
was on the floor sucking your father off."
"All Mom said, well, you're taller 'n him,
smarter 'n him, and probably a better screw than
me, so why not?"
"Your Mom likes my father."
"Have they, do you think my Mom has. Shit, that
would be funny."
"I won't share Mitchell with her, Heather, and
then Patty was light headed, letting blank
thoughts collide as well as floundering, and yet
she was full of that plenty that helped out with
conversation. For what we learned is also
hidden."
"Who said that?"
"The Pope."
"Get serious."
"It's a parable: At first there's the subtle
manipulation of the flower (clearly out of
phase), and then pollen splits, divides again
and again."
"You know what I'm thinking, Heather, that sex
can't be felt until you're too distant from your
lover. You need to miss it, to realize the
foundation and it's over growth."
"Yes, I know, and then suddenly, it's as if
nothing could happen, and you feel hands on your
breasts, inside your legs, opening your mouth,
in your ears. Rationally you know that he is a
century or more away, down the pike in the
future tense, and here you are lost in some
past, but then it shifts again and you are
closer and closer. Suddenly as you blank out,
he's so fucken close but still out of reach, and
instantly you are charmed by the intimacy of
love, memory and its odd confessions."
"You are nuts, Professor, shit, now what can I
call you, Patty, I can't call you Mom?"
"What about sister?"
"OK," Heather smiled, assured, turning over,
holding her pillow under her chin, thinking of
that utter nonsense. You know the one you try to
think when you think profound."
"Now, that would be incest, but that's OK, it's
only a word after all?"
"What, incest?"
"No being a sister, and Patty reached out,
touched Heather's lips, gently pressing her
fingers between them, forcing them to open like
raw fruit; let me kiss you like I do your
father, Patty said, and suddenly, she was there,
kissing Heather, letting her tongue explore, and
then, quickly, Heather struggled up and free,
out of breath, truly frightened.
"I know you're stronger and all, but I swear
Patty, if you make another move on me tonight,
I'll knock your block off, now stop it, I can't
handle incest, too."
"Don't worry, Heather, I won't get you
pregnant."
"And I really wanted a baby, pooh." Getting off
it.
"I'm carrying your sister, Heather. Now, touch
there, and now, here's my tit, feel how I
breathe and the tension under my nipples. Now,
yes, take it between your finger and thumb, now,
push in while you tighten your fingers, then
pull out, again, more, feel how soft, now hard,
now, lean down, look at it carefully, take it n
your mouth, I melt if you stare first. I loved
showing off, now that's it, here let me do you,
feel where her tiny mouth will suckle."
"Good thing, I'm going to get you a breast
pump."
"I'm not pregnant."
"You could be. Wouldn't that be fun, doing it
all together?"
"You said it's a girl. You don't know. Has to
be. I have dreamed of daughters."
"No, you're crazy, and pushing Patty away,
Heather laughed. Now tell me if you're so smart.
Who's the daddy? Who would you like? Joe?"
"My father? You got to be kidding. How about,
yours?" Why not yours?
Next time, feeling playful. The babies would
almost be twins.
"Fucking my father. I almost did, you know. When
my mother died I slept in my father's arms.
Samantha did also. I was eleven and she was
nine. Neither of us was very developed. Now, if
I had been more experienced, I would have known
better how to help him. "
Anyway, he woke up, just as he was about to come
against my leg, and I held him, letting him. He
cried, and never let us sleep together. Samantha
was real curious. She wondered what he was
doing, and then I showed her the stain on the
sheet. That comes from men. It makes babies, and
the twirp, you know what she did, she rubbed it
on her finger, and then lifting up her night
gown, she rubbed it on her bare cleft and
announced she was having a baby. You know I
liked the way he kissed. His mouth was soft, not
hard like the movies. I know he kissed her, and
I was my mother, come back, for a moment. I
wished he had finished inside."
"Do it then, with him. But you got to let me
watch, OK"
"What about Samantha?"
"What about her? She can hold your hand, if you
want more company. Let her jerk you off?"
"No, I'll hold yours."
"Would she tell someone?"
"Never."
"She was the biggest slut at the camp last
summer. I could get her boy friend in a lot of
trouble. She likes them older, too, you know."
"She didn't fuck anyone, as far as I know, but
she gave blow jobs out left and right to all the
little boy life guards, and the rec. director,
and the fart was at least thirty five. My
boyfriend told me all about it at camp. He was
embarrassed, he said. I told him to fuck off,
and I had another guy the next day. I'm
experienced, really, Patty."
Suddenly without reservation or surprise Heather
and Patty cuddled, held the other, while Patty
made Heather come, and Heather fucked Patty as
she came. I thought you just learned how to do
it, Patty was surprised by Heather's fluency.
What do you think we do at camp, on those nights
you know they keep boys locked up on the other
side of the lake? The brave swim across the
lake, but my friends Lynn and Julie, we didn't
just mess with the boys, we had more fun with
each other, and then we fucked the two adult
counselors at the boy's camp. I walked right in
his room, one night, stripped off my bathing
suit, and asked this male nurse if he would
treat the poison ivy I had inside my thigh.
Don't get me wrong, I like boys as well as men,
but I think they are sticky and messy. We don't
have that problem yet, do we?
Picking up the box, no I use the tissues your
father keeps here. Mother bought a case of them.
She didn't like it messy.
"I like how it tastes, sometimes, when I am into
it. I know that sounds sick."
"Can you still taste my father?"
"Yes, and I like it."
"In the back of my mouth."
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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