Hector free porn video
I rolled over in bed, tired after having driven my truck all night. It
felt good to finally be at home, a home burdened by heavy losses but my
home nonetheless. I looked at my alarm clock, still a few hours before I
had to get up and go anywhere. I felt my wife stir beside me, likely due
to me having moved around in the first place.
"It's alright, love," she said as she sat up next to me, her long hair
falling over my shoulders as she hugged me. "How can things ever be
alright?" I asked the love of my life, "Our only child is dead!" I said
and felt tears forming in my eyes. "I know and I miss him just as much
as you do," she informed. "It's just so unfair," I managed to barely
whisper before I started crying. "It's just so unfair..."
My name is Alvin Jones, not that it really matters for the purpose of
this story, and I am 49 years old. I live in Los Angeles, California and
have worked for the same truck company since I was 24. The woman crying
next to me is my wife, Rachel. She's two years older than me and we both
origin from the suburbs of LA. The child we're crying about is our son
Hector, who up until just two years before his death was known as our
daughter Helen.
Helen had never really been different from other girls her age. She had
liked playing with her girlfriends after school and she would spend each
and every Halloween dressed up as a princess. My wife and I loved her as
if she was our own daughter. She was actually adopted since Rachel had
been forced to have a hysterectomy in her teens and couldn't have kids
of her own. We adopted Helen when she was just one year old and got 15
wonderful years with her as a daughter and two just as wonderful years
with him as a son.
I don't remember exactly when we suspected that there was something that
made her stand out among the other girls, if I had to take a guess it
would have to be around the time she started puberty. Up until that
point she had been a happy and cheerful child, who'd accompany us
everywhere we went, rarely staying with her grandparents. I can remember
that when my wife announced to me that our daughter had started puberty
I had been both happy and sad that my little princess, I used to call
her that up until she was 14, was becoming a woman.
As her puberty progressed her femininity regressed. She stopped wearing
the dresses that she'd once been so fond of and asked us to cut her long
golden locks short. She still enjoyed spending time with her girlfriends
in school but I could tell from what she told us at the dinner table
that she had begun becoming something of a recluse. She was 14 at the
time and had pierced her face in several places that I did not approve
of. She dyed her hair completely black and wore heavy and dark makeup.
The happy little girl that had once been my princess was now replaced by
this constantly depressed and apathetic teenager. She would never allow
us access into her room and she did never want to talk about what was
burdening her. "It's just a phase," I told my wife.
By the age of 16 she was dangerously underweight, barely being able to
stand up without collapsing. Being the well-meaning parents we were, we
had her institutionalized to a facility for anorectic children and would
have her admitted there for a couple of weeks at the time and then take
her back home, only to have her relapse again and take her back to the
facility again. This continued for half a year. She would never admit
the reason why she wasn't eating. "I'm not hungry" her angelic voice
would answer every time we asked her.
One night when my wife was out with her friends at a party, my daughter
came to me. "Dad, can we talk?" she asked. I was sitting in the living
room, watching TV at that moment, using my small but growing belly as a
table for the remote. "Of course sweetie!" I replied and turned off the
show I was currently watching. My daughter had always been very
straightforward, an ability I myself wished I would have. "I want to be
a boy" she said. No tears, no shame, just the pure and simple truth. I
was of course unprepared for her saying something like this but wasn't
angry with her. "Ok? Why?" I asked her. "I've just always thought of
myself as one and feared that if I didn't tell anyone about my thoughts
and feelings at this moment, I would probably take my own life," the
person next to me said.
This was heavy. I wasn't the best guy in the world to come to when you
wanted to discuss heavy matters, but of course I would lend my ear to my
child whenever it was needed. "Do these feelings have anything to do
with you having been bullied by the other girls at school?" I asked. "I
didn't develop them because the girls at school bullied me, if that's
what you think," my child answered. "The reason as to why I've been
eating so badly is because of these feelings. I hate my body and I hate
growing breasts and having periods! I want to have muscles and be strong
like all other guys!"
I didn't really know what to say, I wasn't the least bit angry over what
my child had just told me. I was scared. I had never had much
involvement with the LGBT-community, my younger brother was gay, but
that was it. "Aren't you angry?" my transgendered child asked me. "Of
course not! I want you to be happy and if you feel that you will be
happier as a boy than a girl then I will support that decision," I
answered.
"Don't you have any questions or anything?" my child asked. I thought it
over for a minute before asking the only question I could think of, "Why
didn't you tell us sooner?" I asked. "Because I was afraid that you
would throw me out!" my child replied. "I would never throw you out, not
over something like this at least," I replied. My child just started
crying.
My wife was at first not as accepting as I'd been when hearing the news
about her daughter wanting to become her son. She was less understanding
and didn't understand how one person could want to just change genders
like that. To be perfectly honest with you, I didn't understand that
either. She told Helen to go to her room so that "the grownups" could
have a talk.
"She can't be serious?!" my wife started. "I think she is," I replied.
"We can't let her go through with something as stupid as this!" Rachel
continued. "Why not? She's unhappy as it is, so shouldn't we do whatever
we can to cheer her up?" I asked. "But what she's doing is not natural!
Girls can't just become boys, it's impossible!" she retorted. "I don't
understand it either but I think that we should at least think about
this before we tell her that she can't. I know almost nothing on this
subject, do you?" I asked my wife. "No..." she admitted. "If this is
what it takes for her to overcome her anorexia, don't you think that we
should at least try it?" I asked. "Yes," she replied.
So that was what we did. Rachel and I booked a time with a children's
psychologist specializing in what was apparently called gender identity
disorders, she called it gender dysphoria, and had her explain exactly
what the terms 'transgendered' and 'transsexual' were. This meeting was
eye-opening for us and we came to have a much better insight in the life
and struggles of our child, struggles we'd never before been aware of.
Not long after the meeting we had Helen start seeing a psychiatrist
regularly and he was quickly prescribed estrogen-blockers. He changed
his name to Hector and started binding his breasts to appear to have a
flat chest. My wife and I tried being as supportive as we possibly
could. At times it was hard, extremely hard.
Hector's school had never dealt with transgendered students before, so
he was a groundbreaker for all potential future students with the same
issues. Being 17, Hector had just started high school when he made the
transition. At first there were no issues at all. People seemed to be
very open-minded and he was treated just like any other student. For
classes such as P.E. he would change in the teachers' office and could
partake in lessons just as good as any other student could.
He got a few guy friends that he would occasionally hang around with
even after school. He regained all the weight, and more, that he had
lost during his bout with anorexia and things seemed to be going really
well for him. My wife and I would regularly attend meetings for parents
with transgendered children, there we would hear all types of stories
about how the children had acted and behaved and how they'd been treated
by their parents, friends and society as a whole. Eating disorders and
depression turned out to be common for the other children to have had as
well. It was a way for them to try to starve puberty to a halt.
The first two years of Hector's high school life worked out perfectly
well and he was a popular guy in his class. The black paint was long
gone from his hair and he now wore his golden blonde hair as short as he
wanted to, usually cutting it as it began touching his ears. We had
asked him about his sexuality and had wondered whether he preferred men
or women, he'd told us that he didn't know. He rarely held any secrets
to us any longer, not after we'd both showed that we accepted him as now
being our son, but I could tell that he was reluctant to talk with us
about this topic.
We celebrated his 19th birthday party in May, like we did for all his
birthdays, and as a birthday gift my wife and I gave him his first car.
It was an older model but I, being good with engines, had fixed it so
that it was running without a hitch. He was of course very thankful
about his car and would use it to drive everywhere.
One thing that worried us was that he started accompanying his friends
to parties frequently. We told him to be careful, especially considering
his circumstances. Most times he would call home around midnight, asking
us whether we could come and pick him up, which we always did.
Then one night it happened, no call. We'd made it an unspoken rule that
he would always call, meaning that this was just about the first time we
didn't hear from him. Even worse was that we had absolutely no idea
where he had gone.
We tried calling him but there was no answer. We tried calling his
friends but they had no idea where he'd gone. They had dropped out of
the party early, Hector had stayed, so all they could do was tell us
where the party had been. We drove there immediately.
Arriving at the spot we could see that whatever party there had been was
now over. We asked around but nobody could remember a short and thin guy
with blonde hair having been there. We then reported him as missing to
the police and explained the situation. The police just advised us to
wait and they'd be sure that he would show up eventually. We never saw
him alive again.
There wasn't much for us to do, we called everyone we knew and informed
them that our son had gone missing. My boss gave me time off from my job
and we spent most of the time searching.
Three days later, 11:05 in the morning to be exact, Rachel and I were
sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast. There was a knock on the door
but we didn't think that it was anything strange with it, there had been
lots of people coming over these last three days. I got up and opened
it, Rachel was completely destroyed from not having slept at all for
three days. I was met by a local policeman and a priest. No!
"We have found your son" he informed once inside and sitting on the
living room couch. "I'm sorry to tell you but he was brutally beaten, he
had no heartbeat when we found him. He was pronounced dead upon arrival
at the hospital" he ended. Rachel burst out crying and I could feel
tears running down my eyes as well. I was however composed. "Do you know
who did it?" I asked. "Yes, three young men that he were seen leaving
the party with. After leaving we are more uncertain about what happened.
There was however semen inside Hector, so we believe that he was raped.
"OH MY GOD!" My wife screamed. "MY BABY'S DEAD!"
The aftermath of it all gave us more clues. Hector had apparently
accompanied the three men, men he'd met before but never told us about
meeting, to another party and there the dress-code had been shirtless.
Naturally Hector had refused to remove his shirt and this had angered
his companions. They'd all had a bit to drink, not that alcohol excused
anything, and had forced the shirt off him, which had led to them
discovering Hector having breasts. After that they had apparently
decided to check what kind of equipment he had below and discovered
Hector's true sex. This had infuriated the men greatly and he'd been
brutally beaten inside the building the party had been held in. After
beating him senseless they had apparently dragged him outside and raped
him before leaving him to die.
At trial they had advocated the Trans panic defense and neither was
sentenced harshly, much to my wife's and my anger. We were completely
destroyed inside, our child had been brutally murdered just because he
was different and then the murderers had been sentenced with almost no
punishment at all. How could such behavior be excused in this way? It
was truly sickening!
Since then the state of California has banned this kind of defense,
making it no longer possible for the murderers to blame their crime on
the fact that their victims were gay or transgendered. It does not help
us, our son is gone forever and it won't help the other parents of
victims that have died too, all that's changed is that the murderers
will be sentenced harder, which means that they will spend a longer time
in jail for their crimes.
Ever since the death of our son, Rachel and I have been greatly involved
with the Californian LGBT-movement and have spent countless hours
fighting for, what we know is, a good cause. If only every one could
have been as open-minded as me or my wife were, then my son, and
countless other young men and women, would still be with us today. Why
does it have to be so hard and difficult to accept that we are all
different? There is nothing wrong with being different, nothing at all.
What is wrong is judging others based on their differences and seeing
them as worthy of dying just because of them.
Society is progressing, that I'm sure of. I believe that one day hate
crimes will have disappeared almost completely, meaning that young men
and women all over the world will be free to be themselves and not face
social prejudice. My son paid the unfair price for being different and
more so will before we finally arrive at a time when this will no longer
happen.
I try seeing Hector's death as a push for progress and that it has not
been in vain. My son was a hero for being himself. All people who admit
and accept people being different are heroes, they make change possible.
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