Michael and Bobby: Lost and Found


copyright 2011 by DMR. For use with the Nifty Archive only.

Chapter 2



"Karina?" Bobby tentatively poked his head inside of her room. Posters adorned her room with posters of male models and popular singers, several signed thanks to VIP passes her parents or former boyfriends had paid for. Bobby never understood her desire for what many would call beautiful. He had always kept quiet about his thoughts on the matter, but they all seemed so false. But as she had reminded him endlessly, he was worthless, so what did he know?

"What do you want, fag?" Ah. So it was going to be that kind of conversation. Perhaps it would be best to return later, when her mood was better. Then again, when was her mood better? Bobby slowly started to retreat his head from the open doorway. "Well," she impatiently snapped, "out with it. What the hell do you want?"

`I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry!' Bobby inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He needed to keep his emotions in check if he was going to do this. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what you had to see earlier. I didn't mean to disgust you." Here Bobby was again, apologizing for being who he was, alone in a locked room. "What can I do to convince you not to upload that video? Please, can't we just forget about it? What can I do to make it up to you?"

Karina's lips curled into a soulless sneer. "So this is what it comes down to. I have the power, and little big fag brother is begging for mercy." Karina lay down her head on her satin pillow and looked up at her ceiling, considering her options. "But why should I help you? You're always in the way. You are nothing but a burden to me and rest of the world."

Bobby looked at her, mouth agape. He knew his sister had never been a kind or thoughtful person, but this was something he was not used to. This was a new low for her. Bobby had come to grips with his homosexuality over years of internal recrimination and torment, and finally arrived at acceptance. He knew others had personal issues with it, but he was at peace with himself.

"Why it would almost seem better if you offed yourself," Karina continued, "because I have already uploaded the video." Karina looked up at him with a triumphant grin.

Bobby winced, knowing there was nothing he could do about it. "But why, Karina?"

His sister shrugged. "Because I wanted to. Because your faggotry is revolting." Faggotry? Was that even a word? "And because I want you out of this house. Really, who cares? I just don't like you, and you're in my way."

"In the way of what?" Asking these questions helped Bobby not to think of the barbs that Karina had tossed at him. His sister shrugged carelessly in response.

"Go away and check your Facebook wall," she coldly smiled. "Several people were quite interested in your activities." Bobby's face fell.

"So I guess there's nothing else to say, then," Bobby said, body shaking. He was doing all he could to stop the tears. He gasped, trying to control it.

"Nope," she said, lying down on her pillow again, picking up her iPhone. She began snickering to herself. "You may leave now, fag." Bobby nodded, a tear forming. He turned around and plodded back to his room, closing the door quietly. It was just a matter of time before his life fell apart, he was sure.

"Dude, I think I'm a freak."

"Well duh."

Michael smirked. What else would he expect from his roommate? Michael never bothered with a frat. They were a bunch of morons anyway. Never a party person, Michael tried to focus on his studies when he could. With the end in sight, he saw no need to change that. He kept with his roomie, though. They understood each other, and all was cool. Ray was a goofy guy and sometimes would never shut up. That's what headphones were for.

"Remember my vacation," Michael began tentatively.

"The one you wouldn't shut up about second semester? Uh, yeah. How could I forget? Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Well I met someone."

"Wham bam thank you Sam? Those relationships, if you can call them that, never last. The beach is time to screw around, let off some steam, and refresh."

"I guess."

"Right, I was on this one trip, and I saw this fine looking bitch Sarah, I swear she had double D's man, which obviously you can't appreciate, but dude, those were some fine tits, so I.."

Ray continued with his run-on sentences. For his own sanity, Michael decided to tune him out. For a straight guy, he sure had a big mouth.

A few minutes past, and Michael's reverie was interrupted. "Michael my man, so who did you meet?"

"Huh? Oh, well... he's younger," Michael evasively responded.

"Younger?" Michael grunted. "Like how much younger?"

"Uh.. 17?" Ray whistled in response. "Yeah, as I said, I'm a freak."

"That's awful young, man. So how was robbing the cradle?" Ray grinned.

"You know me better than that, Ray. Nothing happened. That's just wrong, man. Statutory rape is not something I'm going to add to my résumé." Michael massaged, trying to remove the thought. "We just hung out. I made sure I didn't do anything stupid. I just can't stop thinking about him."

"Well, who knows, man, maybe he's turned 18 in the last few months."

"Yeah, maybe," Michael responded, deep in thought. "It's not like I know how to get in contact with him, anyway. I just know his name. I have no idea where he lives or anything. I just have him on my mind a lot lately." Michael sat in silence for a few moments. "So tell me about your latest fling."

"Which one, Jessica or Krista?"

"Either," Michael said, trying to get his mind off of Bobby. He tried not to think of beautiful Bobby, with his curly hair that Michael wanted to twirl in his fingers.

"They're both on the rag," Ray responded, with disgust. "Brant, you are so lucky that you don't have to deal with that shit." Michael snorted in laughter.

"Let's go for a run," Michael suggested. Maybe it would help them both with their non-existent love lives.

"Sure, sounds like a good idea."

"Hey, is John there?" Bobby was nervous, and so he twirled his fingers through his curls. How he wish he had straight hair! Michael never complained, though did he? And there was that one time Michael brushed his fingers through Bobby's hair when he thought Bobby was asleep on the blanket. That was nice; it was so calming. He had to talk to John before he read that horrible posting from his sister. Hopefully it wasn't too late.

"Just a minute, hon," Mrs. Bruhn replied in her Minnesota accent. She could have been an extra in Fargo, Bobby mused. "Hey John, that Bobby-boy is on the phone for ya," Mrs. Bruhn called in the background.

"'kay," Bobby heard on the phone. "Hey Bobby, `sup?"

"Hi, John," Bobby said, glad to hear an approachable voice. "Can we meet up? I have to tell you something important."

"Sure, what time? I just need to play my Gardens of Time for a bit. Gotta get my energy."

"No!" Bobby exclaimed quickly. `Gardens of Time' was another one of those stupid games on Facebook, and if John went there, he would see...

"Dude, chill. What's wrong?"

"Sorry, it's just been a rough night. I just really need to see you. I can't tell you over the phone."

"Okay, man. No probs. You wanna head over here or something?"

"Yeah, that would be nice," Bobby responded. "See you in a bit?"

"Well, ok, I guess. See ya soon."

Bobby quickly grabbed his keys and ran out the door to his car. His mother called after him, seeing where he was off to, but Bobby had no time for this. To him, this was a matter of life and death. He jumped into his fading black 1993 Ford Taurus and drove over to John's as soon as he could. That stupid hesitation at stop signs was getting worse.

Bobby parked as quickly as he could and pounded up the poured concrete stepping stones to John's front door. He desperately knocked on the front door and rang the doorbell twice. Mrs. Bruhn opened the door in surprise. "Oh Bobby, I didn't know you were heading over. It's nice to see you. How is your sis-" Bobby was on a mission, and had no time to small talk with John's mother. He raced past her and up the stairs. He hoped she would understand.

As Bobby slowed at John's door, he heard that familiar attempt at new age music. That meant John was on Facebook, and playing that game. The sound of synthesized chimes could be heard as John more than likely had found another hidden object in the update to I Spy that had John so engrossed.

Bobby breathed in and quietly knocked before entering John's room. The typical messy teenager, John had his dirty clothes thrown about his room. John was in typical night time attire: a white t-shirt and Spongebob boxers. Bobby shied his eyes away quickly; he did not want to check out his best friend's package. "Yo Bobb-o," John greeted, as he finished his puzzle. "So what's wrong?"

Bobby looked downward sadly. His friendship would now be forever changed. This may be the last time he would see his friend. "I have to tell you something." Bobby darted his eyes up to meet John's, seeing John roll his eyes with his silent `duh!' Bobby quickly smiled at his friend's sarcasm, but the momentary grin quickly disappeared. "It's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but was just..." Bobby looked up at John whose hands were up in a questioning pose. He was hesitating, he knew it. "I'm gay."

John yawned. "And?"

Bobby looked up at John, confused. "And what? That's it. I'm gay." This was supposed to be difficult.

"Well duh. You have zero interest in girls. You always blush and look almost sickly when I talk about them. You always made too much effort to not look at guys in the locker room. And let's not forget watching the DVD of The Mummy and you sighing every time Brendan Frasier came onscreen."

"I did not!" Bobby retorted. John looked at Bobby. Bobby tried to avert his eyes after a few moments, finally landing on his shoes. "Maybe just a little," he mumbled. John burst out laughing. "What!"

"You are super gay, dude, not just regular gay." Bobby grinned sheepishly. "So why the sudden urgency to tell me? Could it be your sister's Facebook post?" Bobby's smile vanished. "What can be so bad about it?"

"Uh, she caught me in a.. well, compromising position." John guffawed at that. "It's not funny! She put it on YouTube for the whole world to see!"

"Then maybe you'll finally get a boyfriend, get fucked, and not be so uptight."

"Wait, how do you know I'd be the one to --"

"Really, Bobby?" John looked at his friend, smiling. "How many times a day do I gotta see you rubbing your butt, brushing it... Need I go on?"

"Ok, you're right. Again." Bobby started twirling his fingers in his hair again as he blushed. This was an ok nervous for him, though. He had someone he could be honest with.

"So how bad is this video?"

Bobby scrunched up the corner of his mouth in thought. "No idea, to be honest. I didn't have the courage to look at it."

John clicked play. "So you get turned on by looking in the mirror?"

Bobby looked at John as if he were insane. "Why would I be turned on by looking at myself? I'm not narca- narsti- well you know."

"Narcissistic?" John offered.

"Yeah, that."

The video had buffered enough data and began to play. A demonic techno soundtrack could be heard as a red warning flashed on the screen. BEWARE -- HIDE YOUR SONS! John tutted. "Please." Bobby looked at his friend and smiled. Maybe this wasn't such a big deal after all. BOBBY STRAMBO -- FAG. A picture of Bobby's senior portrait transitioned onto the screen. "She sorta pulled out all the stops, didn't she," John commented. The screen made a slow dissolve to black. Michael's picture appeared next. Bobby gasped, running his finger over Michael's picture on the screen. John looked over at Bobby with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. WATCH OUT MICHAEL -- THE FAG IS GAY FOR YOU.

"I guess my sister has a limited vocabulary," Bobby mused, feeling braver with his friend on his side; another protector. The video transitioned again to the part Bobby feared the most. His sister must have been in his room earlier than he thought. Bobby was quite busy with three fingers, and grabbing his small throbbing erection with the other hand.

"Oh gee, way more than I wanted to see," John laughed, turning around. Bobby blushed as the video continued. The audio was poor, but Michael's name could be made out, along with some of Bobby's whispered fantasies. "Dude, I'm never gonna piss near you again," John jovially declared, lightly mock-punching his friend on the forearm. Bobby blushed crimson.

A new screen of text transitioned with the words THE FAG WILL EVEN STALK YOU. Bobby's brow furrowed in confusion. Where was she going now? And then Bobby knew. It was Bobby's video of Michael. The secret one. Bobby's recording showed him breathing heavily as he looked upon Michael's body, zooming in from the safety of the beach umbrella. He had that moment of perfect recording: Michael's swim shorts pulled down just enough to get a hint of the treasures beneath. Bobby had spent a lot of time watching that video. Yes, that was one of his favorites. Michael's chest hair was matted down by the wild ocean, and his pubic hair could be seen -- wow, was that hot. And he could just make out the beginnings of a very thick package. Bobby grew an erection, right there in front of John, just thinking about it.

The video flashed back to a still image of Bobby's masturbation, showcasing Bobby's smaller than average genitalia. A ruler was drawn onto the image, mocking its length. CALL THE LITTLE DICK FAG AND LET HIM KNOW WHAT YOU THINK the video displayed, followed by Bobby's cell phone number prominently displayed. How could she do such a thing?

The video had finally ended. John looked at Bobby kindly and patted his knee. "This will all be forgotten soon, don't worry." John scrolled down and noticed the number of page views. 4,928? Well, at least the kid was popular. Bobby sadly pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. It quickly advised that he had 3,573 text messages and 861 voice mails.

Two calls came in while viewing this information, both from unknown numbers. Bobby pressed ignore. "So," John said slowly, trying to ease the tension, "who is Michael, when do I meet him and why does he give you an instant woody?" Bobby groaned and buried his head in John's comforter.


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