The Fappening

Anyway, she came onto the news program for her interview and just looked...destroyed. It wasn't that she was no longer beautiful. Far from it. She was just as feminine and lovely as she had ever been. Maybe more so, because she had a sort of willowy, broken look that she hadn't possessed before. No...it was more than that. Everything was exposed now, it was all on the surface and her vulnerability made her more beautiful, but also more damaged.

The interview didn't go well. She explained that she had agreed to the interview against her publicist's advice. She wasn't wearing any make-up and didn't look prepared to answer any questions. In the end, she was almost begging the viewers at home to respect her privacy and to pretend that nothing had happened. She asked for everything to just go back the way it had been before, that she was the same person she had always been. She cited examples of other female celebrities who'd had leaked photos and then gone back to their lives. Everyone thought it was hilarious. SNL did a cold opening about her (at least a woman played the role).

Under pressure from LGBTQ groups (and perhaps their own consciences), the producers of the new Liberty Squad movie publicly stated that they intended to bring Bella Radnor back to reprise her role as Agent Double X in the film that was going to start production in a couple of months. The Hollywood papers said that they then low-balled her agent severely, trying to get her to walk. Everyone knew that no other major production was going to want her, she was too tainted. Her agent took the deal, but she never showed up to filming. The character was scraped from the movie and Bella Radnor essentially ceased to exist.

Ceased to exist to everyone but me that is. I still thought about her almost constantly. For the most part I thought about her every time I considered my growing fame. I knew that the higher my profile got, the more information the public would crave about my personal life. They would dig deeper and deeper. I didn't know what they would find...I tried to be so unbelievably careful. But they could find out. There were always leads to chase. At any minute, Bella Radnor's life could become my own. Her data breach...it had stolen her privacy. But it had absolutely destroyed my peace of mind. I could never, ever be comfortable again. I could never completely enjoy the fruits of my fame. I had to shut more and more of the world out the more famous that I became. In order to keep my fame I had to deny myself the love that I'd hoped to gain from it. It was fame and it was work. And that was it.

But it wasn't only in relation to my professional life that I thought about Bella Radnor. Far from it. I remember once, shortly after the data breach first occurred, that a journalist actually asked me about Bella Radnor. Just trying to get a reaction. I had mastered myself (I had prepared myself for such a questions because the news was so big. I didn't want to look terrified) and shrugged. I said that a person's private life was theirs and I had no intention of violating Bella Radnor's privacy. But, of course, I was violating her privacy every day.

I had saved the five leaked photographs on my iPad. I looked at them...so very often. I had memorized every inch of every photograph. If I closed my eyes I could see every shade of color on her skin, I could trace the shadows against the wall. If I'd had any sketching ability at all, I could've drawn each photograph in perfect replication. I could paint hair, eyes, lips, breasts, legs, balls, and dick with ease.

And it wasn't just looking or imagining. I found that every time the twin pressures of my fame and my terrible secret became too great, I would return to my pictures of Bella Radnor. I looked at her because I knew, without a doubt, that she would understand the pressure I was under. And I looked at her because I knew that she could give me release. Whenever my anxieties became too great, I would find a place...any place with privacy, and I would prop my body up so that I looked like her. And before I knew it, I would be naked with my left hand around my cock and my right middle finger buried in my asshole. It had become almost a ritual, a religious rite. And I would finish quickly. And for a moment I would feel a...resounding and needed peace. And then it would fade. And I would be alone again, Bella Radnor would leave me and re-enter her picture. And I would cry in the fear for my future and the shame I felt for yet another trespass.

I guess I thought that would go on indefinitely, that kind of life. Maybe I hoped that it would. Because really, the only alternative I could imagine to the constant anxiety of my life and fame was exposure. And as difficult as it was to live each day in fear, I knew that living in a world where everyone knew the truth would be a thousand times worse. And so I hoped that my life of isolating fame, exhausting work, and limitless tension would simply last forever. But, in the end, that wasn't meant to be.

Because of Bella Radnor.

It was about seven or eight months after the data breach (okay it was seven months, sixteen days, and nine hours. I was obsessed) and I was at a comic book convention. Not THE Comic-Con in San Diego. I didn't really understand how any of that stuff worked. I had received an invitation to appear at a "Comic-Con" in Jackson, Mississippi. I knew that Comic-Con was a big deal, like 150,000 fans coming to see their favorite stars. Jackson seemed like a strange place to hold it, but I figured that just meant that they wanted to go somewhere where the hotel rooms were cheap. I thought it would be a good opportunity to connect with the people who paid my bills but in a safe sort of environment. Just love directly from the fans. Only after I had accepted had my agent explained to me that there wasn't one Comic-Con, but a bunch of them and that I had agreed to go to one of the lowest profile ones around. He encouraged me to just drop it, but I'd already made the commitment.

It had turned out to be sort of great. The city was lovely in its own way and I was by far the biggest star there. I mean if I had been at a bigger convention, I still think I would've gotten a good deal of attention, don't get me wrong. But when my biggest competition in terms of stardom was a car that someone drove in a Jurassic Park sequel, it wasn't even a contest. I got treated like a goddess by everyone there. The organizers said that in the first day the attendance of 8,000 people was, by far, the largest crowd they'd ever had. They put me up in a beautiful presidential suite in the Hilton and catered to my every whim.

More than that, I got to interact one on one with my fans. They came up to me, shy sometimes, bold other times. They told me about the way my work had made their lives better. They tried to get me to laugh or to blush. They had me sign things or take pictures. Or whatever they wanted. I was up for anything. It was just... great. It was everything I had always wanted from fame. I was let into these people's lives and they gave me back their love. It was almost enough to make me forget about the constant cloud of anxiety that hovered just above everything that I did.

That is, until the second day. It started the same as the first day, maybe even with a slightly larger crowd. It wasn't until around noon that it happened. My hand was cramped from autographs and I was desperately hungry. I'd woken up too late for breakfast and I didn't think it looked good to chomp away at the table while my fans were trying to talk to me.

"Sorry guys, I need a short break," I said, after signing one last autograph. There was an audible "aw!" from the crowd and I smiled, "I won't be long. I promise I am coming back." I said and I was greeted with cheers and smiles. Then I headed back out towards the door leading to a back room where catering was set up. My stomach was rumbling just thinking about it and I moved briskly. People saw me and stared, but they mostly just let me walk.

I was putting my hand on the door to the back room when I heard a bit of a commotion. I followed the noise and turned my head to the left. The front doors to the convention area were only about 20 feet away from me now. They were opened wide and the sun was shining in. Splitting the distance between the front door and my location was a small yellow plastic rope. This marked the barrier separating "guests" like me from the general public. My interest piqued by the sudden racket, I turned towards the rope and walked over. I stopped with my hands on the plastic, looking towards the door. Despite the fact that I was only a few inches from the crowd now, no one seemed to notice me. That's because there was a whole different level of spectacle going on, right in the front of the building.

At first I couldn't really tell what was going on. I saw security trying to manage the crowd and I could hear shouting. More than anything else, I could hear an irate woman's voice shouting. After a moment, the crowd shifted and I briefly caught a glimpse of the source of the voice. The source of the commotion as well. She was running, it was a bit of a blur. I couldn't make her out at first. Then a large security guard sort of lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her. She cried out and shook around slightly before, panting heavily, she accepted that she had been caught. Slowly she looked up and, for a brief second, our eyes met across the convention hall.

It was Bella Radnor.

I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe that she was here! Why was she here? Did it have something to do with me? Did she know that I was...looking at her? Did she know my secret as well? How did she know these things? The thoughts swirled dizzily in my mind and I felt light headed. I gripped hard on the yellow plastic rope, trying to keep from falling down.

Bella Radnor looked as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were shimmering with a kind of feverish intensity, her hair was mussed but in a sexy sort of just-got-out-of-bed way. She was wearing a sun dress with thin shoulder straps, a low cut that showed off her cleavage, and plenty of exposed legs. Her makeup looked professional, except for a little smearing from her altercation. The guard's hands were wrapped around her thin waist, keeping her in place.

"Goddamnit," Bella Radnor yelled, shaking and panting, "I was invited to this...this fucking convention!" The guard didn't say anything. He just looked over her shoulder. I followed his gaze and I saw a convention director who I recognized walking briskly through the crowd.

"Ms. Radnor...is that you?" he asked. The word "Ms" hissed out of his mouth like it was some sort of joke. I felt my insides knot. The crowd began to murmur louder as it seemed that their suspicions were being confirmed. This was the famous Bella Radnor. The secret tranny. There was a sort of titillated excitement coursing through the crowd.

"Tell this asshole to let me go!" Bella Radnor responded. The convention director looked at the guard and sort of waved him off. The guard shrugged and let go. Bella Radnor stumbled forward slightly, turned and gave the guard the evil eye, and then looked back at the convention director. She straightened her dress and ignored the crowd.

"Ms. Radnor, what seems to be the problem here?" the director said. He spoke in such a condescending way, it made me angry. The crowd sensed it too. But they seemed to be behind him. There was a show, and everyone wanted to watch and see if justice and the side of right would prevail.

"They demanded that I pay for a ticket at the front door. I am here to sign autographs and they are charging me to get in!" Bella Radnor explained, sounding indignant and haughty. But I could see the fear in her eyes now, as the crowd closed in. She was acting tough.

"Ms. Radnor...you are not slated to be here. If you want to enter the convention, you need to pay..."

"I have a fucking invitation here," Bella Radnor explained, then she looked down at her purse and started digging around inside of it. After a moment, she produced a paper.

"Ms. Radnor, we invited you here months ago...Nearly a year ago actually," he said significantly, he then looked around the crowd as if to assure them that the invitation had been mailed before he realized the actress was some kind of pervert. Then he continued, "And you never responded. We assumed you weren't coming. We are a small convention. We are often rejected" He acted wounded. Like she was one of the ones who had hurt him personally.

"Well you assumed wrong," Bella Radnor said, "Obviously, I am here. Why make a big deal about it? Find me a table and I will sign autographs or take pictures or whatever." She was trying to sound calm, but there was a note of desperation in her voice. I squeezed the rope harder, unable to look away but unable to do anything either.

"I am afraid there isn't enough space. You are more than welcome to enter the convention. We would never bar anyone from entering. But there simply isn't enough space," the director explained.

"Christ I can see space fucking everywhere!" Bella Radnor said, she started pointed, "Look, there are empty tables left and right. I don't need anything special, just let me in!" She was growing slightly frantic and the guard began to look nervous. What's more, her nervous energy was spreading to the crowd. They were growing louder, more unruly. I could overhear conversations now. The words "shemale," "tranny" and "freak" were buzzing in the air. I tried to shrink back

"There isn't space!" the director thundered.

"Take a fucking hint dude!" a voice called out from the crowd, "You aren't wanted here." That brought out a laugh from the crowd. I winced as the word "dude" hit my ears and I saw Bella Radnor recoil like she'd been hit. Other taunts started to come out from the crowd. The director raised his hands as if to quiet them, but there was too much noise now. The guards backed away from Bella Radnor, moving out to keep the crowd from closing in around her. I pushed forward, my body stretching the yellow plastic rope, afraid.

"Listen, I am sorry I didn't confirm...My agent...did all that stuff. I...listen I need this...I need the money. I need to sell my autograph," she said. I felt ashamed. Charging for signatures...I saw the color rise in her cheeks. The haughty attitude had withered now, she was shrinking into herself. The shame was evident. I could barely hear her, her voice like a whisper in the din of the crowd. My stomach knotted tighter and I bit my lip. What was going to happen here? It was getting ugly.

I was leaning forward now, almost over the line. I could hear the crowd murmuring louder. In fact, I could hear a conversation next to me. A young woman was speaking with a young man. There was a disgusted looked on her face. She said, "It's not even what...she is you know? I meant there's that other one on that Netflix show about the women's prison. I don't care about that. That person is open about it. But Bella Radnor tried to pretend that...she isn't a man. And that's just wrong." The man nodded in agreement. I felt my blood running cold.

"I am sorry Ms. Radnor. I really am," the director said, sounding almost like he meant it, "but there is nothing I can do. It would probably be best if you'd just leave."

"Leave! Leave! Leave!" a couple of voices in the crowd started to chant. A few more caught on after a few minutes. To be fair, I saw many who seemed disgusted by the spectacle and who were unnerved by the anger of the crowd. But they were drowned out by the vocal minority who finally had a chance to humiliate Bella Radnor to her face. Perhaps they were making her pay for whatever attraction they'd felt towards her before they knew. Probably more than anything else, it was just that some angry people had gotten a whiff of weakness and desperation and they decided to make a game out of it. I don't know.

"If anyone," Bella Radnor said and then her head dropped, her shoulders bunched. I saw her shaking slightly and her voice became pitched, battered-sounding, "If anyone has any of...those pictures... the ones...I will sign them even. I will sign them if you pay enough." The crowd reacted to this in a roar. Bella Radnor looked totally defeated and humiliated. There was laughter and there was taunting. People started pushing in. More security arrived, pushing through the crowd to keep them clear. I felt ill. I couldn't believe what she had offered. I couldn't imagine what she must've been feeling. Or maybe I could imagine and I didn't want to.

"Ms. Radnor!" the directed shouted, "Stop it, you're embarrassing yourself!" Bella Radnor looked up now. I could see tears streaming down her cheeks and her eyes were fiery. She was biting her lower lip and shaking her head vehemently.

"Embarrassing?" she asked, "Embarrassing? You think I am embarrassing myself now? What dignity, exactly do I have left sir? What good has my self-respect ever done me huh?" Bella Radnor threw her hands over her head and then let them drop heavily to her side.

"Ms..." the director started.

"Don't 'Ms. Radnor' me, I know what you think. I guess I know what all of you think. What everyone will ever think," she called out, looking around at the crowd. The people embarrassed or ashamed by the spectacle had trickled away, shaking their heads (some even crying at the emotional, humiliating nature of the scene) leaving only the tormentors. They laughed and jeered as she spoke, but remaining quiet enough that they wouldn't drown her out completely.

"No matter what I've done or...the ways that I have entertained you over the years...everything I gave you and you gave back to me...none of it matters...I am just this!" Bella Radnor said. And as the last words fell from her mouth, I saw her hands rising towards the hemline of her dress. I saw her fingers wrap around it, start to lift.

My eyes grew large and my mouth dropped open. Even before I even realized what I was doing, I was pushing through the yellow plastic line, darting through the crowd. I pushed at people's back and they turned, saw who I was, surprised, and got out of my way. In a few seconds I pushed past security. They almost went to grab me, but again, noticed that I was one of the "guests" and let me pass. I wasn't even sure what I was planning, I just sprinted, panicked, through the crowd. I was barely in control of myself as I crossed the small amount of open space between the security and Bella Radnor. She must've heard my feet slapping on the concrete floor because, with her dress pull halfway up her thigh, she stopped and looked up at me. At about the same instance, my arms flew around her, locking her elbows in place.

The impact of our bodies sort of jolted me out of my mindless panic. For a half second I just looked forward at Bella Radnor and just...marveled at what was happening. After all these months of using her as a...fantasy and a cautionary tale, I was actually right next to her. In fact, I was sort of holding her in my arms. Her breasts pushed tightly against my own. I could feel our hips brushing together. Her face, even more beautiful in person, was just inches from mine. It was surreal.

"What is going on?" Bella Radnor asked, sounding confused and maybe a bit relieved. Like she hadn't even really been thinking about what she was doing. For another half second I just stared at her. What was I doing? How had this even happened?

The sounds of the crowd, in parts angry and surprised, shook me out of it. I turned and looked. I saw people around me on all sides. Some were still yelling, other were recognizing me and looking surprised. The guards, in particular, didn't seem to know what to do. The convention director was looking directly at me. In all my time as a "celebrity" I'd never felt so much on the spot. I heard my name on everyone's lips and felt every eye on me.