Bronson was feeling very melancholy. He was sitting alone in his room quietly sobbing. Through the tears he had only been able to force three buckets of chicken down his throat. What was it that had hurtled him into such a deep depression he could no longer manage his usual heroic intake of 19 buckets of chicken every hour? Greatly concerned and confused, his best friend Spike sat next to him and placed his hand in Bronson's lap.
"Cheer up buddy. What the fuck's the matter?" offered Spike.
"Oh Spike, it's...it's just Matt, that's all." bawled the fat cunt.
"Ever since our expulsion he's tormented me in my dreams. It got so bad I designed a new web site just to humiliate him further."
Spike said nothing and let the poor sad turd continue.
"I just don't feel like it's helping me deal with the hurt anymore."
Moved by his friends revelation, Spike turned his head to stare out of the bedroom window. His view was interupted by Bronson's step-mother, sun bathing in the front yard. Peggy Volcomstalker was a tall blonde woman with rather ample busom. The sheer fabric of her bikini strained to keep her covered up, but it was obviously a losing battle. The bikini conceded defeat as Peggy lay on her stomach and winked at Spike. This startled Spike as he had thought she had not noticed his gaze. Spike had held a torch for Bronson's step-mother for quite awhile. Despite being 39, as well as the biggest lush in town, Peggy had managed to retain most of her figure. What's more is she was not in the habit of keeping it particularly well hidden. So to think that she had allowed Spike to ogle her in such a manner, caused Spike face to go flush with being really horny. He shifted his hand from Bronson's lap to his own.
"I don't know what to do about this situation at all," Bronson defeated.
"What? Fuck. Yeah okay," fumbled Spike. "Uh, why don't you stage a contest where readers of the web site can write works of fiction about Matt?"
"I don't know. They'll all probably write about him masturbating or something. It won't be very funny I don't think."
"Whatever. I think I'm gonna go now." Spike jumped up from the bed cautious to hide his erection.
"What? But why?" pleaded the porkmaster.
"Um, you know, I have to......gurntip the brylkumpt or something." Spike paced backwards towards the door.
"You really think a fan fiction competition is a good idea?" wondered Bronson.
"Yeah sure it is," Spike assured him as he left. Alone again, Bronson started to feel a little bit better about it all.
"Maybe a new contest is a good idea," he belched, reaching for another bucket of chicken.
Bronson squelshed over to his PC and started typing:

To celebrate my return to the whacky world of the Internet, I'm giving you the humble readers of this shonky website a chance to contribute, and win great prizes in the process!

The Competition:
You have to come up with a work of fiction, with a title, and an author's name. It has to be about Matt, be of 50-800 words in length, and it has to have at least one made up word in it (eg Fagosity, Cumpit, shlittle). More rules and regulations below........