The Fappening

"Bella Radnor isn't my name," I said, dumbfounded. I wasn't Agent Double X either. For a moment, the reality of what I had just heard didn't really register in my mind. My stomach was still knotted, my palms were still wet. I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was another very long pause before I could think again. I was vaguely aware that the commercials had come back on again. Fifteen minutes of silence.

"Bella Radnor," I said again, "huh." Involuntarily, the corners of my lips pulled back slightly. Before I knew what was happening, I was smiling. The wave of relief washed over me even before my mind fully caught up with what was happening. I felt my guts loosen, I felt a warm wave sort of roll down from my shoulders to my toes. I was breathing again. The light seemed to have flowed back into the room. I laughed a little, incredulously to myself.

"It wasn't me," I said, laughing slightly again. I flopped back into the kitchen chair, nearly panting as I got my breath back. As the tension left me entirely, I was left feeling completely wrung out. My arms dropped down on my sides and I just sort of sagged down. It felt like I'd been up all day, not just digesting my breakfast. I closed my eyes for a minute, feeling my heart rate start to slow.

After another few minutes it began to make sense. I really had always been incredibly careful. Like I'd thought before, I had absolutely never consented to have a photo, or five, taken. I certainly didn't take any of myself. I looked briefly out the window again, at my view of the valley beyond. There was simply no way that anyone could have gotten a picture of me. And even if they did, the distances would have meant that it was blurry and distant that it would not have been clear. My cock wasn't big enough to see from a distance. There was no way someone could "confirm" my identity from a picture like that.

The more I thought about it the more silly I began to feel. There hadn't been any chance it was going to be me. The scare I'd had...I mean that was more intense than anything I'd ever felt in my life. But it hadn't really been warranted. The photos were not of me and they couldn't be of me.

Still...it was very strange. "Oh God," I said to myself, "What are the odds?" I let out another nervous laugh. A young Hollywood star. A comic book franchise. A transwoman. It seemed like there was no one else in the world that it could possibly describe. How could there be another person?

"Bella Radnor..." I said again for the third time. But this was the first time I really thought about that name as something other than simply 'not my name.' It was the first time I realized that if the anchor on television wasn't referring to me, she must've been talking about some real person. For a moment, my stomach locked up again. Not nearly as bad, but still uncomfortable. If this wasn't happening to me, then it was happening to someone else. A real person

Now that I had calmed myself down slightly, I began to think about the person called Bella Radnor. It took me a moment to place her in my mind. I certainly didn't know her personally, I didn't really know many famous people at that point. I still got star struck. I also couldn't really place any movies she was in, though I knew I'd heard the name before. I certainly wasn't watching anything with Agent Double X. Like I said, not a Sci-Fi girl until I got hired to be one. Finally, it clicked. I'd seen her in a romantic comedy like six years earlier. She was a struggling magazine writer and...whatever you know the rest of the story.

She was young then, very young. She was probably no more than thirty now. I had just seen a picture of her in a tabloid a couple of weeks earlier. She had just broken up with her boyfriend, a comedian or something. She was short like me. She had very long, very straight dark red hair. She had mischievous eyes and thick, pouty lips. She was renowned for her large, shockingly perky breasts, which she exposed in basically any movie that could in any way include nudity. But despite the large breasts, she was very thin, with a very small waist, hips that were only wide in relation to that small waist, and thin wispy legs. The rumor was that her breasts were fake. Regardless, she was stunningly beautiful. And, like me, apparently, she was a transwoman. I could barely believe it. Of course, few would believe it about me either.

At first, all I felt was sadness. Once I put a face to the name, I could suddenly recognize the humanity of this other woman. She had woken up just like I had, she'd felt the same sudden pang of terror, she'd sweat cold and gagged, and she wondered how it had happened. Unlike me, she hadn't gotten a reprieve. She was living her absolute nightmare at that exact moment. Somewhere else, probably just on the other side of the city, she knew for certain that she was ruined. I felt...I can't explain what I felt. It was relief mostly I guess, a sort of very clear "there but for the grace of God go I" sensation. But there was also shame at that feeling. Shame because my relief only existed because of Bella Radnor's misery. Shame also at my body, because it was "shocking" to others and always left me on the verge of being "discovered.

After a while, the shame and the relief started to mix together strangely. They built on one another. The sheer volume of my relief threw into focus how deeply ashamed I really was. This made me recognized how relieved I was that I had not been caught.

Then another sort of feeling was added to this. Curiosity. From the moment I placed Bella Radnor in my mind, and thought of how beautiful she was, I knew that I wanted to see. I knew that I shouldn't want to. I knew that even if I wanted to, I was obligated to resist. Of course, that obligation made the curiosity stronger. The taboo. But that was really only a small part of the curiosity. That was merely the surface. The real source of the curiosity, was the spiraling sense of shame and relief. I had to know why I was relieved, I had to see what my shame would have been. I had to know.

Eventually, the tension inside of me reached a fever pitch. I was sitting at the kitchen table, my muscles taut and my body shaking all over. I couldn't hear the television. All I had was the overriding need to see the pictures. I needed to see Bella Radnor's shame reflected back at me so that I could truly understand the depths of my relief. My sense of Bella Radnor's privacy failed me. I simply had to go. I had to see.

I shot up from the kitchen table like a rocket, almost rising a foot off of my feet from the seated position. All of the coiled muscles sprung at once sort of. I landed on my feet awkwardly but didn't think about it. Instead, I simply took off towards the stairs, running like someone was chasing me. My bare feet slapped hard on the tile, and then on the hardwood floors as I bounded towards the second floor. I wasn't even really thinking, my body was just dragging me along.

In a land-speed record, I was diving onto my bed. My iPad was underneath of my pillow and I reached for it as my breasts and my stomach bounced on my new King-sized mattress. I was still bouncing as I flipped off the little cloth cover and turned on the screen. In seconds I was goggling the, "Bella Radnor leaked photos."

As I had predicted, the news stories popped up first, except of course her name was in the headlines. The first one, from the respectable AP said "Actress Bella Radnor, 32, photo and gender identity leaked" another Hollywood paper said, "Bella Radnor, refuses comment on transgender photo rumors." Also, as I predicted, the blogs had dug in. One well-known celebrity blogger wrote "Bella Radnor's Ballsy Photo Shoot," another one said, "Bella Radnor's Tranny Secret Revealed!" still another one simply stated "Agent XY" and had a picture of Bella Radnor, looking beautiful and scared. I clicked on one of the blogs quickly, knowing that they would link to the pictures, even if the newspapers wouldn't. I didn't read the article, I found the last hyperlink and followed it (the blogs are predictable, they will make you read the thing before you get to see what you're after).

And then she was there. There were five pictures in all, I had to scroll down to see them. The pictures were taken inside. The person shooting them was likely no more than four or five feet away from Bella Radnor. The quality of the photographs was very good. They were obviously not professional photographs, but they were taken with a good camera. Each shot was very clear.

The first showed a fully clothed Bella Radnor. She was sitting on the edge of a four-post bed in a small skirt and a loose-fitting, white blouse. Her legs were crossed at the ankle and her hands were pushed down firmly into the mattress. She was leaning forward slightly and smiling broadly. Her long red hair fell messily and seductively over her eyes. She looked more beautiful than I remembered her being (I guess I'd never really had any reason to notice her though). She was absolutely feminine, elegant even.

The second photograph was largely the same thing. She was still sitting clothed on the bed with her ankles crossed. Now, however, her right hand was up off of the mattress. Her hand was lift up towards her face and it looked like she was biting one of her knuckles. Her face exhibited a sort of shy, flirtatiousness. What's more, several buttons of her loose blouse had been undone. The shirt had been pulled apart slightly and I could see the gentle swell of each of her breasts and the valley between them. The barest hint of the edge of her right areola might have been visible in the shadows. I couldn't be sure.

But I didn't have any patience for that. It was not her breasts, which nearly everyone in America had already seen, that interested me. I scrolled down a little bit farther. My heart was thrumming nervously and my fingers were leaving a sweaty streak on the screen. I felt a kind of nervous excitement, like a Christmas morning when you were sure you weren't good enough to get presents. When you knew you were going to be hurt, but you had to find out anyway. When I scrolled a little farther, I gasped aloud.

Bella Radnor was still sitting on the bed and she still had her knuckles up to her face. Except now her tongue was sticking out playfully, sort of sitting up on top of her hand, small and pink. Her blouse was now spread completely open and her large breasts were sitting up high on her chest, very perky. Her nipples looked hard. She was still wearing her skirt. But she had sort of flipped it back so that the hem was laying across her bellybutton. What's more, she was no longer crossing her ankles. Her legs were spread wide on the bed.

And there, coiled up slightly against her thigh, was Hollywood star Bella Radnor's cock.

It was soft in the photograph but there was no mistaking it. She was shaved completely bare, maybe waxed and the photograph was well lit. I could see the uncircumcised tip of her penis lying against her leg, the shaft was almost milky white. Her testicles were very large and were a sort of pinkish red color. Bella Radnor had a cock!

They say that seeing is believing, and I guess that is sort of true. I mean I saw this picture with Bella Radnor's beautiful face and her large, perky breasts and I also saw her pale, flaccid cock. Both of those things registered in my mind. But somehow it almost still didn't seem real. And it was so strange because I had seen my own body in the mirror, I knew that it was possible to have a face and a body that people found feminine, sexy even, and to have a cock between the legs. But somehow...it still didn't feel real that someone else could look the same as me, could be in the same situation.

Beyond shock, I guess I felt something else as well. I wasn't really able to acknowledge that it was there, but it definitely was. Bella Radnor was a beautiful woman. Beyond that, the tension inside of me had grown more intense, more insistent. Seeing her...entire body had done that. It had deepened my relief and my shame rather than resolved either of them. It had grown so overwhelming that I guess my body had tried to find a way to release it. At least...that's what I thought was happening.

Whatever, I won't dance around it now; I was becoming aroused. I could feel my nipples pressing against the soft fabric of my robe where my breasts were pushing into the mattress. My skin felt tingly all over and my mouth was dry. What's more I could feel my...my cock reacting. It was un-taped at the moment. Despite the fact that I rarely became erect (for a whole host of reasons really), I could feel it quickly filling. I could feel a slight hardness against my leg.

But I didn't really acknowledge that. I couldn't acknowledge that. Instead, I kept my eyes on my iPad screen and scrolled down farther. If I had been shocked at the third photograph, I was absolutely dumbfounded by the fourth. The skirt and the blouse were gone (maybe I could see them piled on the floor, I didn't really look). Bella Radnor was completely naked except for a small necklace. Her right hand was no longer up by her face. Her mouth was no longer obscured and I could see that she was smiling brightly. The hand was now down, grasping her own breast gently, her fingers sinking into the skin. But that wasn't the most unbelievable part of the picture. Her legs were still spread and her left hand was no longer on the mattress. Instead, she was reaching between her legs. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her cock, which was now quite hard. It had grown more than I'd expected and I was surprised that the milky white shaft was poking out of her fist several inches. The tip of the cock was facing almost directly at the camera, her foreskin stretched taut.

As my eyes devoured the picture, my body involuntarily reacted. The tension was too great, I couldn't help it. I pushed my chest down harder into the bed, letting friction play on my nipples. My cock was about as hard as it ever got at that point (not nearly as hard, or large for that matter, as Bella Radnor's, but more than enough) and I was grinding my hips slowly against the bed, feeling the rush of sensation up my spine. However, I didn't acknowledge I was doing this. I just kept my eyes on the picture, trying to comprehend its dark magic. Trying to wrap my mind around the reality of the rigid flesh between the movie star's legs.

But I knew that there was still one last picture. One more piece of "evidence." So I somehow managed to pull my attention away from Bella Radnor's cock, grasped in her palm. I started to scroll down once more. Quickly, almost too quickly. But I got the final picture lined up across the screen. When it came into focus and I registered the image on the screen, I gasped aloud and pressed my cock down hard into my soft mattress.

For the first time, the perspective of the photographs had changed and Bella Radnor was no longer sitting on the edge of the bed. Whoever was taking the photos was now clearly standing on top of the bed, looking down. Bella Radnor was on the floor below, lying on her back. Her body from the top of her head down to below her knees. Of course, that was only because her legs were splayed wide where she laid on the ground. She was still completely naked now and her left hand was still wrapped around her hard cock, which she was sort of pulling up towards the camera.

More shocking, her right hand was no longer on her breast. Instead her entire right arm had sort of snaked down her body. Her breast was resting against her bicep and it was pushed up, her nipple fiercely erect. Her arm had actually slipped down between her legs and her hand was sort of...hooked back up towards her body. You know, bent at the wrist. At first, I really didn't really understand what I was seeing. I noticed thumb and index finger sort of curl up against her taut pink balls. I could see clearly because her balls were sort of flipped up on her body and they looked a little smaller than before. I also saw her pinky finger and ring finger pressing against her palm. But I didn't see her middle finger. It was only after looking extremely closely that I realized what had happened. Bella Radnor's middle finger was buried all the way to hilt in her own asshole!

Before the full weight of that realization could dawn on my mind, I made another startling discovery. I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed it before. There was a gooey mass of pearly liquid pooling in Bella Radnor's bellybutton! But that was just the start. There were dribs and drabs of the white stuff up across the length of her taut abdomen, some spots larger than others. There was even a droplet on her left nipple! But it didn't even stop there. In the hollow of her throat, a pool almost as large as the one in her bellybutton had formed. Finally, there was a large splatter across her chin. Bella Radnor was looking directly into the camera's lens, her eyes half open looking sultry. She was biting her lower lip. Actually, it was clear that her teeth had overshot her lower lip, cutting the final pool of milky liquid in half! A few drops of her own cum must've been in her mouth.

The final picture was far more than I had ever expected. First of all, this wasn't simply a leaked nude photo. It wasn't even a leaked nude photo of a transwoman. It was a photo taken in the direct aftermath of an orgasm. Bella Radnor's face was positively glowing with her release. Seeing her like that, and knowing that everyone in the world could see her like...It drove home the absolute exposure she'd experienced. It was far worse than I'd expected. This most private moment of pure bliss...stolen from her forever.

What was even more terrible, at least from my perspective, was that the betrayal and the humiliation and the glimpse into this private moment, made her all the more beautiful. I suddenly found that I adored her. I couldn't believe that I would ever think another woman was more attractive. And my body was absolutely on fire now. The tension that I could barely acknowledge had reached a point of horrifying power. I felt like my mind and my body were no longer my own.

I kept the final picture framed in the center of my iPad. In fact, I took a screenshot of it. But I sat up quickly on the bed. I began to desperately remove my clothes from my body. I knew that there was really only one way that I could end this tension. I must've known what I was going to do from the instant I began to walk upstairs. But the need had become all-encompassing now.

I essentially tore the robe off of my body, letting it fall on the ground. I looked down at my breasts, jiggling slightly at my frantic motions. My nipples were stick up high and hard on my body. I looked down quickly at the picture. My breasts were slightly smaller than Bella Radnor's. Hers were sort of a heavy, round shape while mine were extremely perky teardrops. Her nipples were larger and redder too, mine pinker and smaller. But it felt good to compare them anyway. I moved my hands up, grasping my breasts and kneading the skin. I felt my nipples press like little bullets into my palms. I arched my back, threw my head back and moaned. I squeezed harder, feeling my flesh press between my fingers. My breasts had never been so sensitive.

But I needed more than that. I looked down between my breasts. I could see my tight red panties. More than that, I could see the small (but larger than usual) bulge. Usually, I would do everything in my power to ignore that little bulge. I rarely ever touched and I played with it...once a year...maybe? But today was different. Today I desperately needed to get at it. I dropped onto my ass on the bed and, in the same instant, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the panties. In a moment, I lifted my hips up off the bed and ripped my panties down my legs. I felt a wet spot in the front, precum I guess, as I wadded them up in my hand and threw them across the room. Once again sitting on my ass, I spread my legs wide. I looked down.