"And if someone doesn't reach the end of trail before ten minutes..." Muff Daddy gave a maniacal laugh, and walked off.

"What is it? What happens?" One of the virgins asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Explosion," Do Her Well said dourly. "Sorry you picked this one to go out on."

"But, you all look like fast runners," the other virgin looked around. "It'll be ok, right?" Rocky Bowel Movement tried to give him two thumbs up, but both hands had vessels involved. Fuck Buddy just shook her head sadly. Just Doesn't Get It, sensing hesitation, blew his whistle and took off.

"Hey!" shouted Hand Pump. "It's only polite to wait until 6.9 minutes are left," he muttered.

But the pack was off, taking every second they could get. No one was sure what 'Explosion' meant, least of all Do Her Well, and all thought it best not to find out. Dickweed ran full speed into the middle of a thankfully empty street, followed closely by One and Done and Boner Marrow.  Worst Bottom Ever, cursing his luck that this happened to be the week he was visiting, still knew better than to go anywhere near the poop stairs. Just Lauren, in contrast, mapped it carefully from both ends.

Navigating around the Sports Basement, Cum Test Dummy flew back towards Potrero and ran smack into Muff Daddy, with Sir Menage a Lot right at her heels.

"Made it!" she smiled, looking at her watch.

"Oh, trail's not over yet..." Muff Daddy held out a bag of flour that was menacingly ticking.

"Okay. Okay. I've got this, guys," Cum Test Dummy gathered her wits, grabbed the bag, and took off.

"Good for her!" declared Wine Rack. "Way to take one for the team."

"Thank god that's taken care of," Humpy Slowcum added.

"Do you think she'll be ok?" Five Angry Inches wondered.

"Hey, why's everyone still here?" Eat My Pussy asked as he walked up. "Looks like trail goes that way!" He took off immediately before anyone had a chance to speak.

"Fuck," Gingervitis said to himself. "I told him this was the one with the explosion." He ran off into the darkness after EMP.

"Looks like we're all in for it," Three Fingers proclaimed grimly, as he, Wrong Waymo, and the rest of the pack started following trail once again.

For someone whose main assignment was to get a ticking bag of flour away from civilization, Cum Test Dummy sure laid a lot of marks for the pack.  Tonya Hardon and Humpy Slowcum tag teamed one witchy way, while Dickweed cut through a side street to gain a short-lived advantage. The pack managed to get lost despite themselves, giving Tuna a chance to watch hashers stumbling away from the SFGH emergency room, for a change.

Finally, either Cum Test Dummy discovered how to stop laying marks-- or she managed to bribe a shop owner to wash them away after she passed. No matter where the pack looked, no trail was to be found.

"Hand Pump's not answering," someone cried in despair.

"It seems like these streets are arranged in a grid-like structure," observed Do Her Well. "Let's circumnavigate!"


"Or... we could just go back to the start," Cockamole suggested.

"Circum! Navigate!" Do Her Well ran off.

An intermediate amount of time later, the pack coalesced around the 24th Street BART, allowing Just Doesn't Get It one last chance to get lost. Worst Bottom Ever gamely held the pack together, despite all the collective action turning Eat My Pussy's stomach.

The group arrived back at the start to find Big Cock Chains toasting Circle Jerk, and Sweaty Betty wiping his brow in relief.

Cockulus Oculus greeted them, "What took you so long?"

"It's been over ten minutes," Stinky Floss pointed out. "And everything's fine?"

"A watch fell into the flour bag," Wash This Asshole told them. "Silly, right?"

"No explosions?" asked Boner Marrow.

"We weren't back in time," a single tear rolled down Cum Test Dummy's cheek. "It's... it's total destruction. No survivors."

"That's right," Muff Daddy walked up. "No one was here... so I had to handle pouring all the down downs by myself. BOOM!"

---
This trash is solemnly dedicated to the beer that was lost on that fateful day.