AARON: THE SHOW MUST GO ON

	My Aunty told her, I shoulda told her
	No I'm not kidding
	That's what she told her
	3, 6, 9
	The goose drank wine

	Aaron inhaled deeply and tried to ignore the message his bladder was 
urgently sending to his brain. Maybe they should drop this song from the 
program. It seemed to be particularly suggestive.

	The monkey chew tobacco on the streetcar line
	The line broke, the monkey got choked
	And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat.

	Damn. He couldn't hold it any longer. As he dashed off the stage, the A-
teens exchanged glances and his sister rolled her eyes. Well, fuck her. It 
wasn't his fault he'd picked up a kidney infection. Well, maybe it was. The 
doctor had never really explained how he'd gotten it. He and Doctor Redderik 
had, well, gotten sidetracked by other things. Aaron smiled as he stood before 
the urinal and began to relieve himself and thought about his session with the 
doctor at emergency yesterday. It certainly had been unusual, and certainly 
would not have happened had he been back in Florida and seen his family doctor. 
Now he and his family doctor doing what he and Doctor Redderik had done, that 
was an amusing thought.
	Anyway, Doctor Redderik had given him pills to help clear up the 
infection, and had told him to get lots of rest and drink lots of liquids to 
flush the infection out. Flushing was not a problem. He flushed all day July 4 
and all this morning, galleons, hour on the hour. Rest was a different story. 
They were only two weeks into a nine-week tour. Forty-eight gigs in twenty- 
eight states. His mother had considered canceling his Kansas performance that 
evening, but that would have been a major hassle. They would have to absorb the 
costs at such a late date and there would be a lot of upset fans, besides bad 
publicity, and it would not be fair to his sister or the A-teens. They decided 
to play it by ear, or by bladder so to speak. If he couldn't put on a full 
performance, he could at least put on part, and his sister and the A-teens would 
have to fill in. The fans wouldn't be happy, but it was better than no show at 
all. Besides, he had performances the rest of the week.
	As Aaron was changing backstage at Memorial Hall that night, his mother 
knocked on the door, and presented a solution she'd come up with on the drive 
from the airport so he could put in a full performance, as his fans were 
expecting.
	"Mooommmmm!" Aaron responded, his wide eyes reflecting his dismay and 
disbelief.
	"But this way you'd be able to perform every song in the program with 
minimal disruption. If you're healthy enough of course. If you're in pain ."
	"I'm not in any pain. That's not the problem," Aaron responded, not 
exactly sure how to explain what the problem was with her plan.
	"Do you have a better idea?"
	"I don't."
	"You have a show to perform."
	"I know."
	"Well then?"
	"But, Leslie and the A-teens and the stage hands, they will know what I'm 
doing!"
	"Everyone knows already."
	"Well, they know why I'm taking the breaks, but not, well, not, well I 
guess they know that too," he said dejectedly.
	"So it's settled."
	"But where will I do it?"
	"We'll find a place, somewhere off-stage and private, but close."
	They did find a place, on stage actually, a curtained area right off stage 
right, with a few large props strategically placed to increase his privacy. He 
didn't like it, not one bit, but he had to admit it was a solution. He also knew 
interrupting his performance four or five times during a show in addition to the 
regular breaks had not been appreciated by his fans in Oklahoma City. Fans were 
important, even to Aaron who grumbled about the rigours of being a teenage celeb 
but who did like the attention, and the performing. Bottom line was, he loved to 
sing, and to share his voice.
	So after the opening of the show by the A-teens, he inhaled deeply and 
stepped out onto the stage. Kansas City, July 5, 2001, Memorial Hall, the site 
of what was to be the most embarrassing day of his life.

	3, 6, 9
	The goose drank wine
	The monkey chew tobacco on the streetcar line
	The line broke, the monkey got choked,
	And they all went to heaven in a little rowboat.

	The song finished, Aaron dashed offstage and into his improvised sanctum. 
His older sister Leslie, and the A-teens, Marie, Amit, Sara, and Dhani were 
backstage but discretely looking the other way or pretending to be occupied. 
Actually, they were occupied, but they made a special effort to be pretending 
not to notice him. They did of course. They knew why he was slipping behind the 
curtain, and what he was about to do. They knew he was about to piss in a pee 
pot, just like a little three-year-old kid. Well, it wasn't his fault.
	Pulling down his fly, he slipped his hand inside his pants and boxers and 
quickly pulled out his dick. He had to go, bad. Inhaling deeply, he aimed for 
the pot and let loose. His piss rushed out in a torrent, splashing into the pot. 
The distinctive hollow sound of a stream hitting a plastic bowl, followed by the 
changing resonance as the bowl began to fill, and the bubbling of the stream now 
falling into a piss pool resounded across the stage, and echoed into the hall. 
Oh fuck! He was wearing his cordless microphone and had forgotten to turn it 
off!
	"Aaron," whispered his sister Leslie, and her voice was picked up by the 
mike.
	Aaron wanted to die. He prayed for God to strike him with lightning right 
then and there, right there as he pissed into his little pee pot. If not that, 
then let him trip and fall face forward and drown in his piss pot rather than go 
back out on the stage to perform his next song. He fumbled with the mike, trying 
to turn it off. He'd done that a million times, but this time he couldn't find 
the switch. The gurgling sound of a piss pot being filled echoed in his ears. He 
tried to stem the flow with his dick muscles, but he could not. Fucking shit all 
mighty! Now everyone knew. Every Goddamn one in the hall. Tomorrow it would 
probably be splashed across the headlines of every pulp magazine in the world. 
Splashed was an appropriate description.
	He stood there holding his limp hose in his right hand. Why could he not 
die? He couldn't step back out on the stage. Not after what had just happened. 
The silence was awesome. He could hear his heart pounding. It was so loud he 
checked his mike to make sure he'd finally turned it off. An hour had to have 
gone by. He knew it was only seconds. What was he going to do? They were waiting 
for him. He had to go back on stage. The show had to go on.
	Blushing a bright red and hoping nobody would notice under the lights, he 
stepped back out from his not so private little bathroom. Leslie and the A-teens 
and the stage hands had all turned their backs or disappeared behind curtains 
and props to make it easier for him. Dhani Lennevald's shoulders shook. The 
sixteen-about-to-be-seventeen-year-old could not help it. It was just too funny. 
Embarrassing as hell, but wickedly funny. He snorted as he stifled a chuckle. He 
didn't want to be rude, and he wasn't being mean. It was just too, too funny.
	Aaron didn't find it in the least bit funny. He knew Dhani's reaction was 
exactly how the others were feeling. He knew what the six-foot tall Swedish 
singer was thinking. What he was thinking everyone in the audience was thinking. 
They were sitting there staring up at the stage as he stepped back out, 
whispering, giggling, snickering. Did you hear what I heard? They were clapping, 
loudly. Were they just being polite? Were they clapping because of the 
performance he'd just put on off stage? Aaron's face was so red his ears were 
hot and he was sure he was about to have a nosebleed. Was the clapping 
especially loud? Was it because they were especially impressed by the tones of 
his pissing act, or because they were embarrassed for him and trying to make up 
for their embarrassment, his and theirs.
	As the band picked up and he prepared to begin singing, he looked out at 
the crowd. Fortunately with the lights illuminating the stage, it was difficult 
to make out their faces. He just as soon preferred not being able to see them. 
Of course it was all in his imagination, but they had to have known what had 
just happened, and they had to have known it was him.
	His fucking sister had announced it through his mike hadn't she? Of course 
it wasn't her fault. She was just trying to tell him what was happening. He knew 
that.
	Suddenly aware that he'd missed his cue and the band was faltering, he 
began to sing and they picked up. He concentrated on the lyrics, blocking out 
what had just happened. He always put his whole heart into his performance, but 
he put in even more now in his effort to forget. Of course his bladder would not 
let him forget. It seemed like he had to go even worse that night, more often 
and for longer durations, and even though he remembered to turn off his mike, 
each time he pulled out his cock and began to piss it sounded like a waterfall, 
or a horse pissing, or an elephant, or whatever, and he was sure you could hear 
it through the hall without a mike.
	Nobody said anything after the performance, but he knew the A-teens and 
the band and his mother and the whole world were thinking about it. Aaron 
thought about it. He even had a dream about it, between getting up half a dozen 
times to take a leak. As important as it was that the show go on, it was going 
to be impossible. He was exhausted not getting a sound sleep at night afraid 
he'd piss the hotel bed, and then having to fly to wherever they were performing 
next, rehearsing, and then performing only to repeat it all the next day. Sure 
he had a day or two break between every four or five days of performing on this 
tour, but those days were spent traveling or rehearsing.
	July 6. St. Louis, Missouri, Fox Theater. He was wrong about Kansas City. 
That was his second most embarrassing day. July 6 beat it all to hell. He'd been 
right, at least about his mother. She was concerned about him, and she had been 
thinking about what had happened. Now she had another idea. Like the piss pot 
idea, she presented it to him in the privacy of one of the dressing rooms 
backstage half an hour before the performance. It wasn't that she was picking 
that time to put pressure on him. It was simply that it took her that long to 
put the plan together. He looked at the package in the decorative blue, purple 
and orangish-red striped plastic wrapping. Depend Undergarment, Easy Fit. A 
diaper! A damn fucking diaper! He stared at the package. He'd never seen diapers 
for teenagers, or adults. Why did they have to put a picture on the package? 
What else could an undergarment be? He looked up at his mom with all the angst 
and desperation a teenager can in his eyes.
	"You gotta be kidding."
	"It solves the, well, you know, the danger of, well, the microphone." The 
danger of being heard pissing in a piss pot all through the hall is what she 
meant. "And you won't have to keep ducking off the stage."
	It took Aaron a moment to understand what she meant by that last 
statement. "You mean, you expect me to, well, awwwww, Moommmmmm!"
	"Nobody's going to know."
	"Nobody?"
	"Most of the outfits for this performance are baggy enough. And this style 
of undergarment is tight fitting. It says right here on the package ."
	"You read the package?" Aaron asked, his jaw dropping and his eyes 
widening. He could not believe this.
	"Well, of course, it has been a few years since I had to buy any diapers 
undergarments."
	"I can't wear those! No way!"
	"They make these a lot easier to put on than they did when I had to buy 
diapers for you and Angel twelve years ago," his mother continued, reading the 
plastic wrapping. "Look, it has adjustable strap tabs by Velcro."
	"Oh great. I can see it in the papers now. New fashion wear sported by 
Aaron Carter in his American tour, Depends by Velcro."
	"Aaron."
	"So Aaron, what is it, boxers or briefs? Why, neither, Mike, its Depend 
Undergarments."
	"Look, honey, I know how you feel, and hopefully this infection will clear 
up soon, and you'll be able to put this all behind you ."
	"Very funny, Mom," Aaron responded. His mother looked at him uncertainly.
	"Behind me," he said, nodding to the package she was holding. She had to 
smile, and then chuckle, and so did he.
	"The doctor did say the medication could take a week or two. You can't be 
dashing off stage five or six times a performance like last night, and I know 
you were embarrassed doing it. This way nobody will even know except you and I."
	"All right. Tonight I'll try it," Aaron agreed. She was just trying to 
help. And it would be a secret compared to pissing in a pot with a dozen people 
backstage listening.
	She left him and he sat down and read the package. "Improved Ultra Absorb-
Loc Protection quickly absorbs and locks fluids away." Oh gross! "Wide straps 
provide a comfortable, secure fit." He could just see the diapers sliding down 
during one of his dance routines and ending up around his ankles, or even worse, 
hanging out the back of the leg of his cargo pants and him not noticing. 
"Reusable strap tabs." Oh great feature! "Soft, cloth-like moisture barrier is 
comfortable, durable and leak-proof." Why the hell couldn't he be leak-proof?
	He opened up the plastic wrapping and pulled one of the disposable 
underpants out, holding them by the tips of his fingers as if they were already 
soiled. There were thirty of them for fucksake! A paper fell out and he picked 
it up. "Directions: How to put on Depend easyfit Undergarments: (one size fits 
all)." Oh maaannnnn! "Press plastic strap tab against fuzzy cloth on back of 
undergarment." Fuzzy cloth? What was he, a baby? "Press plastic strap tab 
against fuzzy cloth on front." Shit, were these written for a moron? Maybe baby 
was supposed to read it himself. Baby was, he thought bitterly. Why was this 
happening to him?
	A rap on his door caused him to jump as if he'd been caught looking at a 
porno magazine or something. He glanced about desperately. He could slip the 
undergarment under the pillow, but where do you hide a gaudy blue, purple and 
orange striped bag of twenty-nine others?
	"The A-teens are about to go on stage," called his mother.
	"Okay, thanks, I'll be out in a jiffy." Or should that have been 'I'll be 
out in a nappie?'
	Aaron quickly stripped off his day clothes and his boxers, and looking at 
the undergarment, stuck the tabs on and stepped into it. Something was not 
right. He looked at the instructions. "Step into the undergarment with blue 
patterned absorbent side facing body." Okay, he had them inside out. Now what? 
He looked at the instructions again. Perhaps he was a moron. Maybe he should 
call his mother in to diaper him. "Pull elastic straps over hips." Okay. That 
had to have been wrong. They gaped open in the front. He looked at the 
instructions again. "Adjust to fit snugly by rearranging placement of plastic 
strap tabs on front of undergarment." Oh. Okay. That did help. He slipped his 
cargo pants on over top. You could not see the bulge, not really. He finished 
dressing and headed for the stage.
	He watched the A-teens go through their routine to open the show, and then 
his older sister Leslie perform a number from her single Like Wow. He waited the 
appropriate time for the crowd to express their appreciation, and to build up 
their expectation, and then he walked on stage, mike in hand, and went into his 
first song. It felt strange having the undergarment on. He could feel the top 
band of the cloth-like moisture barrier against his skin, and it was not cloth-
like. He could feel the gentle elastic leg gathers, and they were not gentle. He 
could feel the Stay-Dry liner and it chaffed.
	He tried to forget he was there on stage before a thousand teen and 
preteen girls and guys in a pair of diapers. The lights were hot. He had to have 
some water in the break between songs or his voice would not hold out for two 
hours. He tried not to think what he was going to eventually do, but he couldn't 
help think about it. He'd been pissing buckets for two weeks, and there was no 
reason this night should be different. Singing helped him forget, but every song 
had an ending. When it happened, was he supposed to keep singing or what? He 
couldn't keep singing, not while he was taking a leak! But he couldn't just stop 
in the middle of a song and stand there like a statue either. Hopefully he could 
wait until between songs, and do it while they were clapping.
	As he began his sixth song, he felt the pressure in his groin increasing. 
He tried to ignore it. Maybe this time he'd be able to hold it back until the 
mid-show break. As the song progressed, so did the need. He wasn't going to hold 
this one back until any damn break. He was going to be lucky to hold it back 
until the end of the song.

	The car door slammed
	And they're walking up the steps
	I guess life is good with ten seconds left

	Grounded As Aaron struck his pose and the clapping started, he could hold 
back no more. As a thousand teens and preteens clapped and cheered, he began to 
piss. At first it was just a little squirt, and then a little more, and he hoped 
that might be all there was going to be. Maybe if he just made a couple little 
squirts it would be enough to relieve the pressure for a couple more songs. He 
should have known better, The third squirt was longer, and immediately followed 
by a steady stream flowing across the right front of the diaper. Was he supposed 
to place his penis in a particular position when he'd put the diaper on? It 
hadn't mentioned anything about that in the instructions.
	His stream flowed quickly, as it always did, and he felt a warmth and 
moistness spread over his stomach, and then flood down over his groin. His 
peehole burned pleasantly as his piss flooded over his stomach and soaked into 
the diaper. He bowed and grinned out at the cheering crowd as he thoroughly 
pissed himself. He could feel the material, whatever it was, getting heavier as 
it absorbed his hot piss. He had to look down. There was no wet stain on the 
front of his pants despite the fact he had to have pissed a galleon into his 
diaper. Well, probably not, but it sure seemed like he had. He dared to move a 
leg. Nothing trickled down it.
	He could smell it, hot, steaming piss, but he couldn't see it. The others 
watched, wondering why he was waiting. He smiled and raised the microphone to 
his lips. Fortunately his stream was done.

	My mama told me I'm too young to love
	But I know what I know and I can't get enough

	As Aaron began to sing and move, he tried to concentrate on the words and 
on what was happening in his pants at the same time. The Depends did what they 
said they would do. They locked the moisture in. He could feel nothing dribbling 
down his leg as he'd feared he would, and there was no darkening stain on his 
pants. He began to sing more forcefully, more confidently.
	Thirty minutes later he had to piss again, and this time he could not wait 
for the song to end. Belting out the words, he relaxed, and just let it happen. 
He was already wet, and his diapers had soaked up his piss the first time, so 
what was there to worry? Once again he felt his piss stream flow across his 
belly to the right side and rise up and then flood back down over his cock while 
he continued to piss. It was a strange feeling, feeling his urine flooding down 
over his dick while his peehole burned with the flow of piss streaming out of 
it.
	As he continued the performance, he could feel the weight of his sodden 
underpants now, especially around the crotch where he assumed his piss had 
collected. His balls felt very warm, and the warmth and the idea of pissing in 
front of thousands of fans and being in diapers without them knowing it started 
to get him aroused, and once he started to get aroused, he could not stop his 
dick. When it came to arousal, his dick had a mind of its own, and before he 
could do anything about it, he was singing "Aaron's Party Come and Get It" with 
a raging boner in a piss- filled diaper. It was wicked, and despite the fact he 
was conscious of every square inch of his soaked diaper and the aching of his 
projecting bone, it was so erotic he felt totally wired.
	When they left the theater, Aaron, his sister, and his mother were taken 
back to the hotel in one car and the A-teens in a second vehicle, and Aaron was 
glad that they did not have one of those minivans to take them all together this 
time. The smell of urine was distinct and very noticeable, and he sat there 
feeling ashamed as they sped down the street, knowing how his mother must be 
feeling. Sometimes after a performance, especially if the hall was particularly 
hot or if it was small and the audience was packed, he was so skunky with sweat 
even his most adoring fan would not think him sexy. He wondered what his fans 
would think if they could smell him right then. He glanced repeatedly at his 
sister. If she recognized the odor, she wasn't giving any indication. Maybe, 
just maybe, she thought it was sweat.
	"You were awesome tonight, little brother," Leslie observed. Even though 
she was only a year older than he, she liked to call him that. So did his older 
brother Nick, but Nick was eight years older than he was and had some cause.
	"What do you mean?"
	"The last half, that's the best I've heard you sing since the tour began."
	"Yeah? Thanks."
	"Leslie's right," his mother observed, and as she looked at her son she 
gave him a quick, knowing smile.
	Actually, he had to admit he hadn't felt so good performing as he had that 
night. This Depends Undergarments thing wasn't so bad. To tell the truth, as he 
inhaled and allowed the scent of his urine fill his lungs, the odor was not that 
bad either. After all, it was just piss, and it was out of his own body, and the 
doctor had told him piss was actually a very pure product despite what the 
layman thought. Besides all that, his genitals felt warm and cozy in the thick, 
sodden diaper. It was nice. It was sort of strange feeling the wet diaper 
pressed against his butt mind you. Strange, but not bad, either.
	Arriving back at the hotel, he headed straight for the bathroom and 
examined himself in the mirror. Not a single hint of a stain, and though he 
could tell the bulge, it was not that noticeable, and you had to expect 
something considering the amount of piss he was packing. He stripped off his 
clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. The diapers were definitely soaked, 
and were hanging at the crotch and bulging out lumpily here and there. He turned 
and adjusting the mirrors, examined the back. They were soaked, and you could 
see a definite yellow tint to them. He turned again and struck a couple poses, 
the seductive poses that the PR men had him strike for advertising the tour. He 
was cute. In fact he looked damn cute in diapers. He wondered if he should 
contact Depend and offer to be their model. He smiled, and then giggled. Damn, 
he hadn't felt this good in weeks.
	Removing the wet diaper, he was surprised at the sodden weight. He 
showered thoroughly with a lot of soap, and of course as usually happened when 
he lathered himself up, he got an erection. He was thirteen after all. He 
debated jerking off, but he'd have to be fast. His sister and mother would want 
to use the bathroom yet. He decided to wait until he could take his time and 
enjoy it.
	That night as he lay in the strange hotel room bed he thought about what 
had happened, and how it had felt pissing up on stage, and especially how it 
felt to piss himself. Memories of the warmth and wet feeling as his urine had 
flooded over his belly and down over his genitals, and how erotic it had been 
getting a boner in his piss-soaked Depend gave him a violent erection. He was 
sharing the room with his mother and sister, who were sleeping in the bed next 
to the window. He wondered if he should get one off in the bathroom. He listened 
carefully, and slowly rose up on an elbow and looked at the other bed. They were 
sound asleep.
	Reaching down, he eased down his pajama bottoms just off his hips incase 
he had to pull them up in a hurry and slipped his fingers about his dick. It 
felt so good squeezing it. What with being exhausted and sharing a room with his 
mother and sister, he hadn't jerked off in bed since beginning the tour, and had 
only done it a couple times in the shower, when he was especially horny. He 
slowly began stroking his cock. It felt large compared to how he remembered it 
feeling. He knew it was growing. He'd read somewhere that the more you did it 
the bigger your cock grew. He didn't know if that was true, but if it was, he 
was going to have one humongous cock by the time he reached Nick's age. 
Actually, he should ask his older brother if that was true. Nick has one hell of 
a nice size dick.
	As he continued to slowly jack off beside his sleeping mother and sister, 
his thoughts turned from Nick to his experience that evening. He thought of how 
it had felt pissing himself, and how erotic it was doing it up on stage, and how 
erotic it had been standing there with thousands of teens cheering, his cock 
pressing out his sodden diapers, and his wet undergarment clinging to his ass. 
The thought triggered a reaction much sooner than Aaron had expected, and he 
didn't have time to do anything about it. He yanked up his pajama bottoms in 
time to prevent staining the sheets. It wouldn't be the first time he had cum 
stains in his pajamas. He slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to clean 
up, and to take a leak.
	July 7, Chicago Illinois, Rosemont Theater. Before the end of the second 
song he'd wet his diaper, and by half time they were heavy and sodden and he had 
a boner. He pissed at the end of a song, he pissed as he began a song, and he 
pissed himself in the middle of a song. He waited until the pain from his 
bladder was so strong he had to let loose, and he enjoyed the hot flood of piss 
as it soaked into the undergarment, and into his skin. He pissed when he first 
felt the urge, enjoying being able to sing as his urine flowed into his diaper. 
Some people sang in the shower, so why not sing while taking a leak? Of course 
at his age he'd never heard of golden showers, or water sports, or rubber wear. 
He'd have been shocked by the number of men, and boys, who were turned on by 
piss, their own and other's.
	He dared to occasionally reach down and press his hand against his sodden 
diaper. Pressing the hot, wet material against the lower part of his abdomen and 
against his butt felt great actually. He even dared to reach down and press his 
hand against his bone. You could not see it with the padding of the diaper and 
his baggy pants, but you could feel it. He even got daring and with the last 
change of costume, he loosened the belt of his trousers so that the reusable hip 
straps and the fuzzy cloth of the undergarment showed above his pants. It was 
only an inch, even less, and you'd just think it was his boxers, unless you 
looked closely, or if you wore Depend Undergarments. Dancing on the stage and 
singing a love song with his undergarment showing was so erotic he could not 
believe the rush it gave him.
	When he got back to the hotel room and headed for the bathroom, his sister 
handed him a Walgreens bag with a smile and a whisper that it was a little gift 
from herself and the A-teens. Closing and locking the bathroom door, he opened 
the bag and found three items. The first was an eight-ounce spray bottle that 
looked like a Windex spray bottle he'd seen around the house for cleaning 
windows, except this was called Proshield Foam and Spray Incontinent and Total 
Body cleaner. According to the label it was a gentle non-aerosol spray bottle 
containing a "no rinse moisturizing foam and cleanser." The second was a small 
blue and white jar with a blue cross and two overlapping leaves, two ounces of 
Little Forest Therapeutic Botanical Diaper Rash Cream. The third was a 
cylindrical container, three ounces of Little Forest Therapeutic Botanical Baby 
Powder.
	At first he was devastated. His sister knew about the diapers after all. 
And so did the A- teens. Of course that should not have been a surprise. You 
can't stand beside a guy in pissy diapers under hot stage lights and not smell 
him. Then he was angry. This was not a fucking joke. He had a medical problem, 
and they had an attitude. Then he noticed the card in the bag. Fuming at this 
point, he was going to rip it up, but decided to look at it first. "To Aaron, 
for performing beyond the call of duty, but not the call of nature. Hang in 
there, we're all pulling for you." All five of them had signed it. He had to 
smile, and then to laugh. He looked at the gifts again. Why not?
	Evidently the first thing he needed was the body cleaner. He read the 
instructions on the bottle. "For foaming action, turn nozzle to the on position 
and pull tip forward, for spray push tip back. Spray on affected area and wipe 
off. No rinse needed. For use as a shampoo." Shampoo? How the hell did a baby 
get piss on his head? The image of him laying on his back, his legs thrown up 
over his head, and pissing in his hair came to mind and his dick twitched with 
the idea. Naw, never! But it was an interesting idea. His dick twitched harder. 
He could use the stuff to shampoo his hairs, if he had hairs. The doctor had 
shaved them off as part of his supposed examination back in Oklahoma City. He 
read further. "Spray directly on hair and lightly work through with a towel. 
Comb hair out. No rinse necessary." Well, he'd had nice, curly blond hairs, but 
not exactly thick enough to comb out. He wondered if his patch would be thicker 
when it grew out again. He wondered if he should keep his pubes shaved. They 
felt sort of cool smooth. "Contents: purified water, cocoamphodiacetate" and a 
pile of other chemicals. Aaron chuckled. Purified water to which they added a 
dozen chemicals. Why bother with the purified?
	Stripping off his clothes, he removed his soaked diaper and stood before 
the mirror. Picking up the cleanser, he primed it first as instructed, and then 
pulling the tip forward, he foamed his crotch, spraying the stuff over his 
smooth pubes and over his nuts and dick, causing his already semi-erect cock to 
get even harder. He worked it into his skin and rubbed it over his cock and 
balls. It felt good. He adjusted the mirrors and foamed his butt.
	It looked funny with the shaving-cream like foam coating it. He worked it 
into his butt cheeks and up his butt crack and thoroughly scrubbed his bumhole. 
He wiped himself off. He did feel clean, and fresh.
	He read the label on the cream jar. "Natural, effective, safe. Apply cream 
liberally to dry skin after washing with Baby Soap." Well, at least they didn't 
buy him baby soap. Mind you, it would probably be good for his skin. "So, Aaron, 
how do you keep your smooth, fresh complexion?" "Well, that's easy to explain, I 
use Little Forest Baby Soap."
	Aaron smiled. You had to have a sense of humor considering what he was 
going through. He opened the jar and taking a bit of the cream on the tips of 
his fingers, he smeared it over his thighs and his stomach above his dick. It 
was smooth and creamy with a hint of coconut. As he rubbed it in, it left a cool 
sensation on his skin. He rubbed it over his butt, and along his buttcrack and 
butthole. His butthole really felt cool, like you might expect it to feel with a 
cold breeze blowing up his crack, an experience he'd actually never had. He 
thought of his mother applying the cream to his butthole little dicklet when he 
was a baby, and he thought of David or Justin doing that to him now. His growing 
cock stood straight up.
	Finally came the Baby Powder, zinc oxide and kaolin clay, hypoallergenic, 
no artificial colors, no animal testing. . . . No animal testing? Aaron tried to 
imagine a scientist rolling a dog on its back and powdering its balls and dick 
sack, or a bunch of lab rats. He chucked as he pictured a bunch of diapered 
animals running around and the scientists checking them out for rashes. "Apply 
liberally to skin after allowing Diaper Rash Cream to dry completely, carefully 
shaking powder into diaper or into hand and applying to diaper area, paying 
close attention to creases and folds."
	Aaron sprinkled the powder on his hand and applied it to the diaper area, 
paying close attention to the crease between his thigh and his testicles, and to 
his butt crack and butthole. The powder had a nice fresh smell. He payed close 
attention to his dick as he applied the powder to the stiff organ. It would 
never do to have a diaper rash there. He stroked it gently and squirmed with the 
pleasure. Facing the mirror, he watched the image jerking itself off. He was 
good looking, and his body, still boyishly smooth and contoured, was starting to 
develop a bit of definition, especially his chest. Soon, he hoped, he'd be 
getting chest hair, and arm pit hair. His cock felt good being stroked and his 
groin looked so fresh. He knew he should stop, or at least go aim it over the 
toilet, but it was so cool watching himself jerking off. He could not help 
finishing it right there, and as he watched it spurt out of his peehole in the 
mirror it was the hottest thing he'd done since he'd visited David on the coast. 
After he got dressed, he made sure he washed out the washbasin thoroughly.
	As he got ready for bed later that night, he looked over at the soiled 
diaper in the basket under the sink and the idea suddenly popped into his head. 
Should he? That wasn't why his mother had bought them, but why not? He did have 
twenty-eight of them left.
	He took one out of the plastic bag and put it on. The diaper was much more 
noticeable under his pajama bottoms than the diaper had been with the clothes he 
wore performing, but if they noticed, neither his sister nor his mother 
commented on it as he emerged from the bathroom and headed for his bed.
	As he lay there thinking about what would happen later that night, he 
wondered if he should have done it. Suppose they leaked? They'd have the 
embarrassment of a soaked bed sheet the next day. That wouldn't be as big a 
problem if they were catching a flight to the next place he was performing, but 
they were performing in the same theater the next day, one of the few times on 
the tour where they had a concert in the same city two days in a row. They would 
be staying in the hotel the next night yet. He inhaled deeply. He knew he 
shouldn't worry. The underpants hadn't leaked when he'd been performing, and 
he'd jumped around a lot more than he'd ever twist in bed. Still, it was a 
worry. It took a long time for him to drift off and he was beginning to wonder 
if he was going to get any extra sleep this way or not.
	When he had to leak he woke up. Force of habit. Maybe it was force of 
nature. Either way, he woke up, and wondered if he should get out of bed and 
relieve himself or just do it there lying in bed in his diaper. If he was going 
to wake up each time he had to take a piss this was going to be a waste of time. 
Waste of time. He chuckled on the double meaning of the word waste. He relaxed, 
but he was too tense. He had to piss but he could not. Closing his eyes, he 
tried to will himself to sleep. He tried so hard he only got tenser. He sighed, 
and forced himself to breathe slow and easy, just like he'd forced himself years 
ago when he tensed up before a performance.
	Finally, slowly, he felt the first squirt of pee cross his stomach. He 
waited, he waited a long time. Now he did not have to go. Maybe this whole 
infection thing was over. Then came the second squirt, and then the explosive 
flow. It was strange laying there pissing himself, feeling his piss flowing over 
his groin and up over his stomach. It was different laying there on his back 
compared to pissing his diaper standing. He felt it flow between his legs and 
collect. He could feel the diaper soaking it up, causing it to wick up the back 
side. He lay there after, enjoying the warmth and wetness. He carefully reached 
down and felt the soft, cloth-like moisture barrier, along his stomach, across 
his butt, between his legs. He was dry.
	The second and third time he pissed his diaper that night he slept right 
through them. Well, actually, one of the times he was vaguely aware of it 
happening and recalled thinking how great it felt and wondering why babies cried 
when it felt so good. He slept in, and when he awoke, he felt wonderful. It was 
the first time he'd slept through the night with waking up only once.
	The second night as he got ready for the performance, he applied the cream 
and powder before putting on his diaper. When he stepped on stage smelling like 
a baby, Leslie and the A- teens knew what he'd done, and they smiled. Initially 
they'd been embarrassed for him, but now they were impressed with the way he was 
handling what they figured had to be an embarrassing and humiliating experience. 
They had no idea that for the hot, blond singer, his incontinence had become a 
turn-on. He smiled and waved at the audience and jumped into his first song with 
an enthusiasm and joy that was the old Aaron Carter. What a rush! He held his 
flow back as long as he could because he especially loved the way it felt when 
he flooded his undergarment. He managed to hold it back until he was in the 
middle of his sixth song:

	Swing swing it out swing it out
	Swing it baby let me know what you mean what you say
	When you swing it all the way
	Now baby swing it out
	Ooooooh, c'mon now
	Swing swing it out swing it out
	Swing it baby let me know what you mean what you say
	When you swing it all the way
	Now baby swing it out
	O yeah, baby, here we go.

	He opened the flood gates and let his hot, fresh urine flow. His dick was 
pointing up in his undergarment, held in place by the material, and he felt his 
stream course up along his flat stomach to the tight band and barrier of the top 
of the garment, and then flow to either side and begin to flood down, heading in 
the opposite direction to the stream gushing out of his fleshy fountain. It 
flooded down over his genitals and between his legs where it soaked into the 
crotch of the diaper and began to weigh the material down. His warm urine began 
to wick up the back and he continued emptying his bladder as he finished the 
last four verses.
	At the mid-show break he checked himself out. The plastic lining was 
tight, and he could see the hint of yellow, which really turned him on. He 
pressed the material against his body, squishing the piss out of the padding 
where it had not yet been totally absorbed. Whereas before he'd dreaded going 
back on stage, now he could not wait, and whereas before he dreaded feeling the 
build up of pressure in his loins until he had to do something about it, now he 
looked forward to that buildup with eagerness and anticipation.
	Halfway through the second half he flooded his diapers for the second 
time. Once again his warm piss flowed up over his stomach and flooded back down. 
His genitals grew hot from the fresh piss flowing over them, and the crotch of 
his undergarment began to sag as it filled with his urine. He wished that the 
delightful sensation of pissing himself, and the exciting daring of doing it on 
stage in front of a thousand screaming fans and in front of his mother, sister, 
and fellow performers, would never end. But of course it did, and with the last 
few squirts, the result of muscle contractions he purposefully executed, the 
flow ended. The crotch between his legs now sagged heavily with the weight of 
his second bladder full of piss, and the back, already wet, wicked up still more 
of his urine.
	His smooth, compact butt was soaked and a warm, relaxing feeling passed 
through his groin. His dick, engulfed by the wet absorbent material, was 
throbbing hot.
	As he gyrated on the stage and belted out his lyrics, he reached down 
carefully ran his hand over the bulge. It felt so good he had to do it again. He 
recalled early pictures of Michael Jackson groping himself as he sang, and his 
brother said that there had been quite a controversy over if he was really 
groping himself or not, and if he was gay. An interviewer supposedly had even 
asked him both questions in a television interview. Well, he didn't know about 
Michael, but he certainly was feeling himself up.
	It felt awesome running his hand over the outer layer of clothing, 
pressing down on his undergarment, and feeling the piss-soaked cloth against his 
skin. He ran his hands along his thighs, and then along both sides on either 
side of his groin. It felt fantastic. He casually brushed the meaty pad of his 
hand against the bulge in his pants and he quivered with the thrill that ran 
through his swollen dick. He rubbed the edge of his hand up the length of the 
bulge, and then back down, casually stroking his stiff dick in front of a 
thousand fans. He felt the knob tingle and throb as his cock strained to get off 
a load. Over and over he stroked the swollen head through his piss-soaked 
undergarment, relishing the feeling. His dick throbbed and ached for the relief 
of a climax as he sang.

	Say boomity boom boom, boombastick
	Fun fun fun, funtastick
	Swing the nation
	Cause a sensation
	Or good vibration
	Somebody, anybody, everybody,
	SCREAM

	Aaron blasted off a load in his piss-soaked diaper. He was so hot his cum 
spurted out in rapid machine-gun fire, spraying up over his shaved pubes and 
belly in a flood and flowing down over his balls to collect in a pool in the 
crotch of his undergarment. He had just jerked off and was now shooting his 
stuff all over his piss-soaked stomach and in his diapers right there on stage 
before his mother and sister standing in the wings, and before a thousand fans 
watching the performance. That was so fucking hot! With every move he could feel 
his heavy, wet undergarment hanging between his legs and his sticky cum gluing 
the material to his stomach and his tight nuts.
	So he finished the last set in his piss and cum soaked diapers, beaming 
out at his screaming fans with that trademark Aaron Carter smile. The Mona Lisa 
came to mind and the question as to what was the cause of her smile, and it 
struck him as so funny he felt positively giddy. His good humor was felt by his 
fans and they cheered all the louder for their sexy teen idol. As Aaron bowed 
and accepted the audience's accolades after his encore, he did not know how long 
his kidney infection would actually last, but he planned on having the problem 
for a while. Running a hand along his diaper and pressing the hot, creamy teen 
load that had spilled out into his diaper against his smooth body, Aaron bowed 
one last time and smiled as he felt his still warm piss being squeezed out of 
the crotch of his undergarment and over his balls. He inhaled deeply, delighting 
in the heady aroma, and with a wave to his adoring fans, bounded off the stage. 
This tour was going to be all right.