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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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