My Son's Fall into Depravity: A Mother's Story

When my son was about 14, I found him being groomed by someone who looked like a ‘Lady boy’. This man would send him makeup, and nail products, and other similar things and then got my son to wear them and send photos et cetera online. I suspect that this was an early form of sissy porn and my son’s developing brain was being completely warped and programmed by this.

I think this went on for about a year before I caught on. During that year, some of my clothes and make up had gone missing too.

He had chosen only my most glamorous things—my fur coat, a silk blouse, some beautiful gloves with fur cuffs from Venice, and deep-red Chanel lipstick.

There was a horrible scene when I confronted my son. I was absolutely shocked, devastated and horrified and I couldn’t hide it. He was deeply ashamed and embarrassed and swore it would never happen again.

Over the following years, I was never allowed to bring it up again and he would not discuss it. He would immediately shut me down saying that he was really embarrassed and that was just a phase.

Maybe I just wanted to believe him, but over the next few years he started to receive  suspicious parcels from the Far East. Sometimes feathers would come out of them or glitter. Later we found out that they were things like stockings and false nails, a wig and other repulsive things like extremely high heeled, plastic thigh high boots.
At this stage, we tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. He was now well over 18, and I also thought it wasn’t my business. I felt helpless, just hoping it would stop.  In ‘real life’, he was incredibly masculine. He went to agricultural college. He drove lorries and tractors and cranes. He was handsome, lively and a real party boy.

He had many girlfriends, but they never lasted. They were mostly one night stands, and he once boasted to me that he slept with more than 200 girls. I now wonder how many of those were actually trans prostitutes. But I do know that he was widely known for picking up real women in nightclubs for one night stands.

He was a very masculine child and, from babyhood, had always loved vehicles and boy toys. There was no feminine behavior or desires displayed or requested at any time.

As a child he had been diagnosed with severe ADHD and had been very difficult. He was asked to leave his prep school at the age of seven. I was bewildered by this—I could not believe that they could judge a child so young to be unteachable. I found him adorable. Like some parents, I was probably blind to how naughty he really was.

We suspected mild autism as he had sensory issues with food and clothes. He had incredible meltdowns and could not be reasoned with at all or he would get really angry. He was exhausting to live with.

Eventually, he left home and was living with some friends. I was happy that he seem to be moving on with his life and was doing well at work. Although he often fell out with his bosses and left, he always got a new job really quickly and seemed very skilled at what he did.

It was to my absolute shock and horror that he announced on an especially formed WhatsApp group of around 100 people, including myself, my husband and his brother, that he was ‘bisexual’ and liked ‘three sexes’.

I felt sick when I read this last bit, because I knew what it really meant. All the other so-called friends who were cheering him and praising him, probably only took in the bisexual bit.

It turned out that he had been sleeping with transsexual prostitutes for a long time, at least from the age of 18 when he had been seen and bullied by some ‘friends’.

He very quickly climbed aboard the trans train and, within months, was declaring that he was trans. He lost his housing, his job, his beloved high spec car, his iPhone, his laptop and all his decent friends, and became seriously addicted to drugs. He had been taking cocaine for quite a long time socially and was now addicted and taking other things like crystal meth.

I was warned by people who had worked with my son, and been to prison that he was involved with some seriously bad people. His new bestest glitter friends and family included a horrible pimp/drug dealer in our local town, which is notorious for both. This man was alleged to have committed murder in another country.

I have no contact with him now, which was his choice, but to be honest, I have no desire to ever see him again, given the life that he has chosen. I simply cannot cope with it. It is just too distressing.

I’m pretty sure that he has been involved in trans prostitution and has been in hospital several times with overdoses declaring that people have raped and tried to murder him.

On a number of occasions we tried to “rescue” him, but he just went back to the drugs and the pimp boyfriend. Apparently he didn’t really ‘like men’, but this one was ‘different’. Any time he contacted us which was rare, he asked for money, which he never paid back.

Meanwhile, I try to get on with my life and do enjoyable things with my husband—but I am numb and there is little pleasure in anything. I have no trust in anything or anybody and I am bewildered every day by the madness that has taken over my son.

I live a life of constant tension, waiting for a phone call or a knock at the door by the police. I don’t think I will ever recover. My beautiful bright eyed boy, who won everyone over with his incredible smile and fun nature, has destroyed himself.

I think in the old days, my son would’ve been called a transvestite and might have been able to have a reasonable life with a job and perhaps even a family. I see it as a sex addiction and paraphilia, but of course, currently nobody is interested in treating it because the world is so madly woke. The whole trans cult has sucked him into a rotten and depraved life which will consume him.

I see these old men in dresses with big shoulders and big hands and horrible straggly hair, walking down the streets, or on the television, celebrated by the multitude of woke handmaidens, and I cringed at the thought of my son as a sad, lonely man trying to pass as a woman. He is 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders, and despite his lip implants and his desire for breast implants, this is never going to happen. I don’t know if any amount of psychotherapy could ever retrain his brain, but even if it were available, I don’t think he would take it as he is so addicted to this version of himself as a woman.

I am not remotely religious, but if I were, it would be very easy to say that the devil had taken my son. Not at any time in all the years that I adored and loved him, defended and sacrificed for him, did I ever contemplate that this might be how he would end up.

It is a living and ongoing bereavement with no closure.

There are so many of us parents going through this. I feel the world has gone insane.