Bonding Over TS Porn Ch. 01

Disclaimer: Trans/shemale content ahead.

Note: Please don't expect much action in this chapter; it's just a wholesome beginning.

Synopsis (skip to avoid any minor spoilers): Nico, a normal high school student, harbors a closely guarded kink he has hidden his entire life: he loves trans porn. But when his crush, the unbelievably beautiful and equally reticent Celia, stumbles upon his dirty secret, his world shifts—not just because she has discovered his fetish, but because she might just share the same one... and then some.

All characters in this story are above the age of 18.

Should I send her a follow request on Instagram?I wondered on my way home from school.It wouldn't bethatweird, right? Just one friend following another on Insta.

Though I very well knew we weren't friends. I wouldn't even consider ourselves acquaintances, to be honest. Celia and I simplyexistedin the same classroom, a couple of desks apart—me behind her, staring into the seemingly endless locks of her lush dark-brown hair flowing in soft waves, more beautiful than any shade of mahogany known to man.

This might be my last math lecture talking, but her 'speaking' was inversely proportional to her beauty. And Celia almost never spoke; so I guess that's one way to put it that she looked ethereal, someone a human shouldn't even dare look at with their inferior eyes.

Well, 'inversely proportional' was the best compliment I could come up with for her. I was never a poetic guy. Honestly, I doubted whether I was even aguy. Even in my senior high school years, I wore glasses with absurdly oversized frames just to cover my face a little more. I looked kind of boyish. A bittooboyish.

And paired with my five-foot-five height, one could call me feminine, even—I'd overheard guys calling me that behind my back (and much worse: femboy, twink, sissy, or whatnot). It's not like I asked to be this short, or to have a face like this, or skin this smooth, or to be cursed with not being able to grow even a sprinkle of beard.

Much like her, I didn't talk much either; didn'thaveanyone to talk to, to be precise. Whereas Celia, if she wanted to, could have any guy in the school at her feet with nothing more than a passing glance from those piercing blue eyes of hers.

She wasn't a loner like me, she did have a friend, just one. But the lack of many friends suited Celia somehow—royalty should seldom associate with peasants.

Her friend's name was Mayah. She was a sporty, cheeky, outgoing girl. The type that didn't have any issues talking with anyone. They were almost inseparable in class. From what I saw, Mayah was like a shield for her, swatting guys away left and right whenever they tried to get too close to her precious, reticent friend.

I always took a strange comfort in the fact that, in some way, Celia and I both shared the same solitude and awkwardness. A couple of introverts. Though I'd not call myself a strict introvert—I just never had many opportunities to befriend or talk to people. What do they call guys like me, ambivert or something? Yeah, I'm that, with just a little more bend toward the introvert part of it.

Though introvert or not, whatever she was, she was too far for me. Two desks' worth of distance too far.

Yet Instagram's algorithm was too strong; every day it recommended to me the account@celia_winters_isnt_here.

But I couldn't solely blame the app. Whenever her account popped up in the 'recommended for you' section, without fail, I clicked on it to see if she had changed her profile picture. She almost never did. It was always the same picture: her turned away, with just the faintest outline of her face slipping into view. I couldn't see any of her posts, though; her account was private.

@celia_winters_isnt_here's 'following' list was huge. They were probably celebs, meme pages, or something, because she barely had any followers—single digits.

That small count of followers often gave me courage, and then killed that courage just as quickly. In my conflicted mind, it was a constant battle: 'she has so few followers, maybe I have a chance?'VS 'maybe she has so few followers precisely because she doesn'tgiveanyone a chance?'

For all I knew, she could have a boyfriend hidden in those followers...

Argh, I don't even wanna think about Celia having a boyfriend.

Celia...

Her name meant 'heavenly' or 'of the sky.' How fitting.

I wanna reach for the sky too, I defiantly thought as I arrived at the front of my house.

Argh, fuck it. I'm shooting her a follow request. We'll see what happens. It's our senior year already. Can't always stay a coward.

Afraid that this sudden surge of bravery would fade, I quickly slipped my hand into my pocket for my phone.

But my fingers met only lint.

I had forgotten it at school.

— — —

It's almost four pm, there shouldn't be anyone here, I thought as I pushed open the classroom door and took the familiar left turn. My row hugged the wall by the door, and my seat was the very last one in the corner.

My steps stopped suddenly, and I fumbled back when I saw someone sitting in the second seat of my row. Celia's seat.

It took me a moment to register that it was actually her. Alone. No Mayah with her.

Celia was wrapped in her usual oversized hoodie that did an annoyingly perfect job of hiding her uniform... and everything else that lay beneath it.

She spoke suddenly, her striking ice-blue eyes low, not wanting to look at the plain black in mine.

"W-what'sHungQueens?" Her tone carried uncertainty and a subtle wavering to it.

What the hell wasCeliadoing here at this hour? Not that I minded the sight of her, of course.

Celia's chestnut-brown hair seemed to burn in gold when the dusking sunlight streamed through the classroom windows. I never stayed for after-school activities, so I was completely unaware of how beautifully the sun fell across the room at this hour.

I shook my head, snapping out of the trance that always took hold of me whenever I saw her from the front—I was only used to watching her from the last desk behind her, like a longing spectator staring at something utterly out of his reach.

But wait, why was she askingmeabout...that?

My stomach sank when I remembered her question again.

HungQueens was one of the biggest trans porn forums on the internet... one which I was a proud (but furtive) member of, posting, debating, and sharing all kinds of TS content every day.

And if there was one person in this whole world I didn't want knowing about my feral obsession with shemale porn, it was Celia.

There was only one thing I could do at this moment: stupidly feign ignorance.

"I'm sorry, uh...YoungQueens? Some sort of new RPG? Or anime?"

Maybe her cheeks flushed a little, maybe not; her gaze was too low to tell, and I was too busy scrambling for a barrage of sly excuses to get out of this situation anyway. Just how did she even know about it?

Celia quietly set a phone—myphone—on the desk, screen facing me.

She looked at my phone?!

The phone was locked, but there was a single notification showing on the lock screen.

It was from the HungQueens:

🔔HungQueens@TrapFan98 replied to your post:Another solid post, @LadyLogLover. Real gems you've dropped like always. It's a shame I'm too broke to sub to any of their OF😭

HungQueens was a website, not an app; and websites can't send notifications... unless you explicitly give them the permission to do so in your web browser.

I justhadto enable the notifications for HungQueens and forget the phone at school, didn't I? Stupid fucking mistake. Stupid fucking me.

I nervously dug my nails into my palms. All the excuses I had come up with were rendered useless by that single notification.

My school crush had, more or less, found out about my trans porn addiction, and in a way that left little room for me to offer any lame explanation.

Just what do I do now?

I stuck to my original ignorant plan.

"Must be an ad, you know? Web browsers on phones are notorious for it." I gave a little, forced laugh at the end, of which not even a sliver was returned by Celia.

"With all the websites shoving cookies down your throat, you kinda don't pay attention to what you click 'allow' on, am I right?" I added to strengthen my already feeble excuse, though I don't think it did anything. Then, one more awkward laugh from me, nothing from her—just her eyes staring at her desk.

Moreover, didn't 'accepting cookies' mean that I had already visited that said website?

One more stupid fucking mistake.

I know I said I was an 'ambivert,' but I never said I was any good at it. In normal situations, yeah, I could somewhat fake the mask of an 'outgoing guy' well enough. But I wouldn't call defending your love of shemale porn before your school crush a 'normal situation.'

And she even saw my username. @LadyLogLover.

Fuck. Me.

I was royally caught.

Her gaze was still low when she said something unexpected yet again.

"W-what's your... Mount Rushmore?..." Her voice sounded hesitant, almost reluctant to be heard. "I know you must have one."

What was she even talking about?

"Umm... My Mount Rushmore ofwhatexactly, Celia?"

I caught a momentary flicker in her blue eyes; she was surprised, perhaps, that I knew her name.

Then, even in the absurdity of this whole situation, it came to me: this was my first time ever saying her name out loud, let alone talking to her.

Celia...

It sounded so rich, even in a meek, not-quite-manly-enough voice like mine.

Celia...

It felt like my tongue had been aching to utter that one beautiful syllable for god knows how long.

Celia...

Should someone like me even be allowed to say it?

The more I repeated her name in my head, the more I wanted to keep repeating it, every utterance a prayer bead slipping through my fingers.

"I meant... your Mount Rushmore of..." She took an ominous pause. "Trans performers..." Now, a longer pause. "Shemale pornstars," she clarified, almost unwillingly.

Excuse-fucking-me? Wha—

Even my thoughts choked after hearing her say that.

Did shereallyjust ask me that question, or was it simply the thrill of saying her name that was messing with my brain?

Celia's asking me about my favorite... shemale pornstars?

Never in a thousand years could I have foreseen this evening taking such a bizarre turn.

Of course, the prospect of discussing porn with my crush weirdly sounded enticing, but it would be a blatant admission of my fetish.

"What'sy-yours?" I flipped the question back at her. It was the only reply that came to mind.

It isn't that easy—ranking your top pornstars, I mean. There needs to be some kind of criteria on the basis of which you rank your favorites. Similar to how you can't compare a quarterback to a linebacker or a point guard to a center, even if they're technically playing the same sport.

Hey. Am I already imagining that shehada list to begin with? Why wouldCeliaof all people be into trans porn?

I felt like I needed to be executed just for thinking of her like that. She was too pure to defile, even if only in my stupid thoughts.

"I-it's not that easy though... is it?" Celia managed to murmur, her soft words aimed more at the desk than at me. "Depends on what factors you're taking into account. Without some set parameters, naming one's favorites would be... too unjust, I'd say."

Incredible. That was the only correct answer.

"My thoughts exactly! It's almost impossible to string together a haphazardly uncategorized list. Some sort of criteria is amust. It'd really be too unjust, just like you said," I found myself blurting out, my sentences spilling into one another with excitement.

Ack.

I stupidly slapped my hand over my mouth like a kid who had said a bad word in front of his parents.

My passion had gotten the better of me... or maybe it washersthat spurred me.

So, Celia also shared the same...interestsas me?

She finally looked up at me for maybe the first time ever. Her face had half-abandoned that usual elegant expression it always donned—Celia seemedawakenedsomehow.

"Ohmigosh. You really get it, don't you, Nico? Perfect. There are aplethoraof factors to consider before eventhinkingabout ranking your favorite shemale pornstars: face card, persona, voice, butt, thighs, cock shape, size, girth, even foreskin, I can go on for hours, really," she gushed with joy. A joy I'd never seen on her. Was this really Celia?

Cock...

Girth...

Foreskin...

I couldn't believe I was hearing such words from her mouth. Just like I also couldn't believe how flawless her rationale was—what she said was the only way to go about ranking.

Wait a second...

She saidNico...

She knew my name...

Goddamnit, Celia knewmyname! She knew Iexisted.

She continued, "But if we get into the specifics, likereallyget into the tidbits, we'll be stuck here talking all day, won't we?"

Celia gave me a short, amicable smile. The first time I'd ever seen those beautiful lips of hers in a faint curl.

But Iwantto be stuck here with you, talking all day, I replied to her smile in my head.

Gulping, I said, "Okay, so... skip the Mount Rushmore, how about you give me your general top 5? Without thinking too much. Just off the top of your head."

While I'm definitely not a big fan of general rankings, I didn't want to delve into anything too specific or too dirty with her—it just didn't feel right... or maybe I just didn't have the balls.

"Well, it's hard to rank them like this, but if you say so, let's give it a shot. I'll start with hmm... Jade Venus. Tight body, nice cock. Perfection. Then, I'd put Ariel Demure at two, because when she fucks, shefucks."

She ever so slightly jerked her hips forward on her seat to better illustrate Ariel'sfucking.

What was happening? Who's this in front of me?

"Third spot could easily go to Jessy Dubai. That fat Latina ass, you're kidding me? Out of this fucking world. Yasmin Lee will be number four. Her stints at Kink were unbelievable. A true dom. No.Thetruest dom. LOL. And finally, I'd put Daisy Taylor at five. I know she deserves to be higher based on her impact on the industry alone, but I just don't see her releasing any new stuff lately. Phew. This was hard."

Such obscene words coming out of such a pretty mouth and with such overt exuberance.

Just whowasthis girl? Because the enthusiasm brimming in her voice could not have belonged to the Celia I knew.

But then again, how well did I even know Celia?

The aficionado inside me couldn't help but praise her effort, "That's a legit list; leans heavily on the mainstream, production house stars. But mainstream doesn't always mean bad, certainly not the ones you mentioned."

She chirped again, "Oh, yeah. And Bailey Jay, too. I know I'm adding a sixth addition to a five-person list which originally stemmed from a four-person Rushmore, but whatever, I justloveher. I'm really digging her new fuller and plumper look. You know, sometimes I don't even watch her stuff for the naughty bits, I watch it just to hear her talk about her day and all that. She can be such an adorable goofball in some videos. Also, her CEI videos are insane. And need I mention the girth of that thing on her? Sheesh."

The words seemed to endlessly keep on spilling out of her mouth. Not that I was complaining. Her voice was a nectar I could drink forever.

And did she mention CEI? Really?Cum Eating Instructions? That's kind of niche; she's way moreeducatedthan I thought.

But... why would a girl even watch CEI videos?

Well, whatever the reason, Bailey Jay was a nice addition regardless. Bailey had stopped working with studios long ago and focused only on her own solo website. Though it was always a delight to stumble upon an old video of her.

Butwow.

Celia, my crush, who had always felt so far away, so far above me, suddenly seemed like a peer—a friend, almost... a friend who was discussing pornstars with me.

Were we really talking about all this?

About shemale porn?

This blatantly?

"Your turn now," Celia chimed.

I was at a literal loss for words. I mean, not really, I just didn't want to start discussing my picks. Because if I did, it would be really difficult to make the 'shemale scholar' in me stop talking.

"Um... It's... The p-pornstars I like are kind of more...nichethan what you might be used to, Celia. Like, rather than watching the pornstars who perform under the bright lights of a crisp, studio-shot video, I'm more into very niche, very specific OF models... Independent, amateur pornstars," I hesitantly explained. "That said, I don't mean to demean your list. It's really solid; I'm a fan of each girl you mentioned."

"I still don't hear any names, Nico," she said. "C'mon, spill."

Gosh. I can hear her call my name forever...

"Yeah... b-but..."

Wait a second.

Let's summarize this situation in a single sentence:

I already love—am addicted to—shemale porn, and the girl I have a crush on is also into it?

Isn't this an opportunity of a lifetime?

Of course, it was.

A bold idea hit my head. An idea a bittoobold.

But it was now or never.

Just how many days will I spend staring at her from that last bench, hoping for something fateful to magically happen between us?

Thiswasthat 'something fateful.'

And I was done hoping.

Can't be a pussy forever, I thought with a certain decisiveness.

I breathed deep, drawing in my lungs a lifetime's worth of courage, grit, and mettle—enough to put my earlier resolve of sending her a mere follow request to shame.

My words tried to come out as smooth and natural as possible; it was my first time saying something like this:

"Names won't paint a picture, now would they? I'd actually have to show their content to you."

I don't think my voice soundednon-confident. So far, so good.

I continued, "But we're at school right now. And I think it'll be wiser for both of us to take thiscolorfulconversation of ours someplace else."

Good. Now came the hardest part. I already knew I was gonna stammer a little while speaking:

"How about we discuss the rest over a coffee of a cup? Argh, fuck. I mean a c-cup of coffee."

A coffee of a cup?That was worse than just stammering, but the words were out now.

I had just askedtheCelia out on a date (well, sort of) to converse on our mutually favoritesubject.

But Celia melted.

She melted back into the usual Celia, the far away one—a graceful mix of shyness, reservation, and elegance—and her eyes darted back to the desk and stayed there.

"Um... C-coffee? I'm... Me... Th-that's... I..." Her words were a timid jumble, starting a lot of sentences while finishing none.

So this was her response to anything that didn't speak of porn or the like. Maybe she reserved all her enthusiasm for that one particular topic only.

This was a mistake. I got a little too ahead of myself, a bittooahead for a guy like me.