"It's not surprising that they went so far, given what was at stake," Geordi La Foreskin shook his head. "It's the most intense competition imaginable, and the prize is something money cannot buy. But I think for some of us, it just has gotten to be too much."

"I've been in this game for a while," Jack the Ripper frowned, eyes misting up. "But in some ways it feels like a completely new sport."

"Sport?" Tonya Hardon laughed sardonically. "I guess the back of the pack sees it as sport. But to me, it's the ultimate proving ground."

Tour de Franzia gathers top athletes from all corners of the globe, but at the end of the day there can be only one victor. Competitors must survive three separate stages through unforgivable trails and nigh impassable wastelands. Self-supported, the racers rely on their wits and intuition to come out on top.
 
"Line up, line up!" Crabs blew his whistle. "Don't think I don't see you sneaking off, Just Doesn't Get It!"

One and Done, Five Angry Inches, and Boner Marrow were shouldering each other for prime pack position, while Cum Test Dummy and Puke Caroline cinched their helmet straps tighter. Three Fingers and Little Douche Poop, long time veterans, didn't show a hint of nerves as they stood awaiting the start.

"We're going to run a fair and clean race, got it?" Crabs blew his whistle again in CPA's ear. "That means you must complete all, and I do mean all Franzia before continuing the course. You abide by Wee Wee and Lost In Fourskin's marks, and only their marks. The free drink rule is in effect throughout the entire course."

While many may enter, only one can win the final stage and the coveted jersey. Dickweed, last year's winner, is not very nervous.
 
"Yeah, I think I have a good chance," he nodded. "Everyone else is slower than me. Oh shit, they're off!"

"I'm just here for the gang bang," Muff Daddy watched as the peloton took off. "That's what the winning jersey says, that is. Me? I have nine of them at home. I bought them off of Amazon."

"I hope everyone can have a good time, but you know there will always be hiccups," Sleazy said with a half smile. "Do Her Well is always getting off on technicalities, but with Dick Simmons' efforts at documentation, we're going to have our cleanest event in years."

As she spoke the peloton has already erupted into disorder, with Humpy Slowcum going in one direction and King of Bedbugs in the other. One Night Only, the sole competitor to keep eyes on Dickweed, sees that he is slipping away and takes off in hot pursuit. To the top of Strawberry Hill the crew goes to begin the most onerous part of Stage One, the Crisp White. Tuna and Hoseblower take strong pulls, while Famous Anus is plotting to gain an advantage through use of his To Go boxes. But look at this-- Puke Caroline has discovered the biggest loophole in the sport and convinced some spectators to dive in for a turn. But it's Code For Butt who, arriving last, has managed to save the flagging stomachs of the peloton.

"It's go time," Do Her Well grabbed her stomach as she bounced down the stairs. Bloqueen dived around her in the turn, finding the quickest line. Just Andrew was right at his heels, keeping pace as well. But emerging onto the roadway, no marks were visible.

"We're bloody well screwed," Dickweed proclaimed, not noticing Do Her Well and Tonya taking a semi-authorized shortcut. The peloton reconsolidated, swarming towards FRED, who had sniffed out trail like a bloodhound.

Sperm Bank and Sir Menage A Lot have converged together, each calling On On in the opposite direction, leading to a near collision in the front of the split peloton. However, it is Vagina Dentata who has staged a breakaway at the front, leading Fucker and Medium Sized Balls of Fire away from the confused mass of helmets and worn out bibshorts. Out of the park they are falling, blazing ahead on the sidewalks as their sense of urgency and thirst is sharpening. And it's Do Her Well who has slipped away in the confusion.
 
"It's a backcheck?" Dickweed slowed, as Do Her Well rounded the corner decidedly away from where trail was pointing. Instinctively the peloton pursued them, In Your Ass Dear doggedly keeping up with Slug and Muppet Dick.

"Trust no one," advised Closet Twitcher, who snuck his bicycle out of some nearby bushes and began to roll.

Rounding the corner, Tonya Hardon can only shake her head as she sees Five Angry Inches with the coveted bag. But while the competitors are clearly fatigued, they all know that the game has yet to truly begin. Geordi's smile has started to wane, and Circle Jerk looks at the Rose with the greatest trepidation.
 
"Look! Do Her Well's had a mechanical!" Backhoe pointed out, as the Rose started to spill down Do Her Well's backside.

"Where are the walkers?" pleads Cheese Turd in anguish.

Controversy has erupted in the race, as the peloton has discovered that the walkers, their last resource for aid, have proceeded to Stage 3 ahead of schedule. Eventually the group recovers to finish their task, but it is at a great cost.
 
"It's bigger than I thought," Cum Test Dummy said, staring at the dreaded Red. "I just don't know if we can take it." Little Red Riding Wood shook his head and looked away.

"Never fear!" shouted Just Get It Over With. Linking arms with Wash This Asshole and Just Charles, she stepped forward towards the bag. "Leave this one to the professionals."

And with that, the last Stage of the Tour de Franzia has been completed and the racers sprint home, to be waived in over the line by Hand Pump. Half of the peloton is immediately disqualified for lack of appropriate cycling gear, while Cockulus Oculus was found to have brought an illicit assistive bag on trail. And so, after much deliberation and multiple appeals, it is Just Francine who takes home the cup. And there you have it, folks, one more Tour De Franzia in the books.