A/N: Hey guys! Wow...thanks for actually reading! And reviewing and favoriting and following, even. I've been a slacker, but I will definitely try to repond as soon as I get the chance to give you the attention you deserve :) In the meantime, how about what you came for? Here's the second part and conclusion to our story :)

Disclaimer: WHAT? I still don't own Big Time Rush? Well isn't that a surprise...

The ride to the studio was not fun for Logan. At all.

The little brunette writhed in the beige leather backseat between Carlos and Kendall, squeaking and tensing up with every minute bump in the road or gentle swerve of Kelly's car. It was nothing short of impossible to sit still.

He couldn't stand the seatbelt pressing into him; cinched across his hips, squeezing his lower abdomen like a bladder-killing boa constrictor.

He slid his fingers under the wide belt, lifting it away from his body and pulling out enough slack to encircle himself at least two or three times before he shakily punched the orange plastic button to his side and threw it off; realizing the super loose restraint would serve him absolutely no purpose in the event of a crash anyway.

He jiggled forward, curling a leg under his body; then tucked both in. No matter how he tried to sit, he just couldn't find a position. Both feet met the floorboard again and he clasped his knees together. He scrunched his eyes up in the silence and bit his lip. He was just about scared to breathe at this point.

Suddenly, James piped up, "Okay, new bet." Logan could hear the pretty-boy propose from his left near the window. "Five dollars says he wets his pants before we get to the studio,"

"Oh, yeah!" Carlos high-fived James as Kendall frowned at the two.

"That is so mean," The blonde began, "I'm not gonna be a part of this…" He turned to his left and took one half-glance at hopelessly wriggly Logan then finished on a different note, "…Okay, I'm in!"

"Ahh! How could you guys make a bet on something like this? I never—" Logan cried, then halted himself, twisting his legs together and cramming both hands between them, rocking back and forth. "Oh, man…"

"—Hey! Uh, let's talk about something else, huh?" Kendall scrambled, suddenly deciding that it just might not be so cool to have the person sitting hip to hip with you pee their pants, and likely yours too, "Let's…let's talk about…oooh, remember back in Minnesota…winter of 2009…"

"Oh yeah, that monster storm in eighth grade when I had to climb out my window because that huge snow drift covered up our door!" Carlos added, taking up the change in subject.

"Yeah, it snowed like five and a half feet! And we had all that time off from school to bobsled and make snowmen, and snow angels, and build snow forts—Ooh! And then don't forget that amazing snowball fight we organized downtown," James enthused.

"I remember that," Logan smiled, relaxing a little, "Half the neighborhood got into it,"

"Haha, That was incredible!...Too bad we beaned the mayor." Kendall mused.

"Yeah, and our parents made us shovel sidewalks for free the rest of the winter." James replied, "Eh, at least we still got to play hockey after school and shoot hoops some at my Dad's house every now and then."

"Ooh," Carlos beamed, "Remember how we used to all stand on the back porch at your Dad's house and see who could write their name the biggest in the snow? I always loved peeing in the snow—"

"CARLOS!" James and Kendall shouted. Logan buried his face in his knees, scream-singing at the top of his lungs.

"You're not supposed to bring up that subject," James yelled at Carlos over Logan's deafening 'LA, LA, LA's', "Peeing in the snow? Really, Carlos, C'mon!—"

"Yeah…I know, but…" The Latino shrugged, droning almost apologetically for a brief second before his eyes lit up and he continued again excitedly, "Why is that so fun? !"

…

A good forty-five minutes had passed and since the boys had arrived at Rocque Records that afternoon; thankfully all dry and intact. A hellish warm-up session with Gustavo later, and it was finally time for their first break.

The four gathered around the white sofas just outside Studio A, plopping down and guzzling up the assortment of Fruit Waters provided for them compliments of Kelly. That is, everyone but Logan.

Logan, who was still preoccupied with other things.

"Hey, how about that one time when we built that camp fire, but we didn't have any water so we had to—"

"Carlos! Enough with the stories, already. You're bothering Logan; and I don't like to hear about pee when I'm trying to sit here and relax and enjoy my beverage!" James griped.

Logan moaned softly at what had to be at least the thirty-ninth mention of urination that afternoon, tightening his little butt cheeks on the edge of the ivory couch as he stared up at a speck on the ceiling; anything as a point of focus to distract him from his current situation.

Mercifully, he had been able to pop the riveted button at the top of those snazzy trousers, alleviating somewhat of the pressure against his swelling tummy. That had been his first plan of action, to race into the restroom upon arriving at the studio, hoping for a miraculous way out of those stupidly tight, James-approved, swag pants. After several minutes of unsuccessful zipper forcing, Logan had undone the brass-like button, managing to work the evil pants down around his skinny hip bones; but that was as far as he'd gotten before being interrupted with a sharp telling-off from Gustavo for holding up rehearsals.

"Hey, Logan," Kendall replied, pulling the other up from the couch and his miserable thoughts, "Gustavo just went to make a phone call, let's try it again," the leader made a stealth dash to the men's room then, followed by James and Carlos, trembling Logan in tow.

…

"If the pants were looser, you could just pull them off," Kendall mused, frowning at the tight pants, and tugging at them again anyway. The jeans slid down a couple millimeters before stopping stuck; tight and un-budging around the other boy's tiny hips.

"Err, I already tried that…ow!" Logan complained, clawing at the abusive denim as it dug into him low, pinching at his delicate skin.

Sympathetic, Kendall hooked his fingers through the belt-loops in an attempt to pull the pants back up to a more comfortable position, but only ended up issuing his poor buddy an abrupt and totally unwarranted wedgie as the stubborn waistband's suction gave way unexpectedly.

"Gahh! Kendall!"

"OOH! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!..." The blonde rattled apologetically, releasing Logan immediately and backing away to let him deal with the new pants problem.

Kendall leaned against one of the sinks then and knit his thick brows together, considering other methods.

"Maybe if we just break it, like split the zipper or something. I mean, your fly would have to stay open, but at least you could get your thing out." The leader pondered aloud, too lost in deep, problem-solving thought mode to notice the pink rush his modest roommate's fair-skinned face. "Or…you can't just, ya know," he gave an odd hand gesture, slightly bugging his green eyes, "get it out over the top, can you?"

"No, it's still too tight," Logan explained, trying to slip his fingers into the waist to demonstrate, "I can't even get my hand in there…"

"Danggit." Kendall sighed, slumping a bit in defeat.

Logan grimaced, cursing his luck. The pants were tight. So, so unbearably tight. And the demon things had to be shrinking now, too, with every second that passed; the two-legged denim devil's sole intention being to torture him indescribably before achieving their ultimate goal of cutting his spindly little body in two. Oh, it was terrible.

Logan let out a quiet whimper, drawing the attention of his three best friends. His smallish hands hovered over his aching belly as he looked back at their questioning faces, conceding brokenly, "…it's starting to hurt."

That was enough for Carlos; who deeply distressed by his friend's discomfort, launched into attack; releasing pure insanity on the restrictive fashion-wear enemy.

"GRRRR! COME…OFF…STUPID PANTS! ! !" He screamed, grabbing hold of the jeans in a two-fisted snatch and jerking them roughly, yanking and pulling, and tugging with wild determination.

"Ah! No!" Logan shrieked, as the Latino's fists wrenched at his waistband, tan knuckles mashing him in the belly and knocking him off balance, "Carlos…crushing my bladder!"

Carlos' intentions were honest, Logan knew that, but right now all of that pressing on his lower abdomen just made him want to pee all over the crazy helmet-wearing fool.

"Stop! AHHH! It's slipping!—It's slipping!" The brainy boy squeaked feeling a slight trickle threaten to dampen down below. He yelped, willing it to go back in as Carlos finally released him; the shuddering doctor-to-be's skinny little legs trembling uncontrollably with the strain of holding in way too much fluid for his svelte little body.

"Just let it go, Logan." James grimaced sympathetically.

Logan gasped at the absurdity. "You're telling me to—In my pants?" he whirled at James, gawking at the taller as if he were insane. "No! What? !"

"All I'm sayin' is that you'd feel a lot better if you'd just—"

"—Yeah, genius idea, James!" Logan cut him off, his voice escalating into a dark, hair-raising roar by the end of the sentence, "Then I'd be damp, odorous, and STILL STUCK IN THESE PANTS! ! !"

The other three winced back, blinking in shock for a few seconds before James found his voice again.

"Sheesh…" He muttered softly, offended by Logan's loud reproof, "I'm just tryin' to help…don't have to be so pissy about it…"

Kendall cocked an eyebrow at pouty James, and paused, index finger raised to scold, mouth open in disbelief. "Okay, that was doubly inappropriate." He attempted seriously, his stern reproach crumbling into laughter.

The blonde hid his face for Logan's sake, and once he was back in control, fist-bumped sulky James…innocently.

Harmonies were finally over. The fact that they'd all made it through to the next break was nothing short of miraculous. James and Carlos could barely focus on anything Gustavo had asked them to do for worrying over what would become of Logan and what plan Kendall would come up with. While they sang, Kendall's mind raced through scores of ideas. Logan simply hissed and wiggled, wondering about the permanent damage he was sure to accrue as the session dragged on.

But they had made it. And now, break-time found the four escaping once again to the spacious, white-tiled restroom; deep in the middle of their wise leader's next emergency pants-evacuation strategy.

"Okay, so we've determined it's the zipper." Kendall detailed, getting right down to business. "It's jammed. We can't get a hold of it well enough to split it apart, so we need to find some kind of lubricant to loosen it up. Something greasy like oil, butter, lotion or something…"

"OOH! Like my MAN-sturizer!" James snapped his fingers, instantly whipping a tube of Cuda moisturizer from behind his back. He turned to the mirror, caressing the container with a sexy growl, "For smooth, supple, kissably soft skin. Better wear ya—"

"—We don't need a commercial, James," Kendall rolled his eyes, "Just gimme the stuff!"

…

Gustavo banged the keys of his piano, blood boiling when he glanced down at his flashy, jewel-encrusted watch. "What is taking so long? !" he grumbled at Kelly, throwing himself up from the cushy bench and stomping out into the hall.

"Dogs! Less bathroom! We talked about this," he bellowed, barging through the men's room door, "I am this close to getting back the shock toilets—" The record producer halted, unable to register the sight before his infamous bugged-eyed sunglasses.

Logan stood in the middle of the floor, tee shirt tucked under his chin; the rest of the hockey-heads on their knees in the floor around him, huddled at his feet. James tugged at Logan's pants from behind, parting the denim fly wide; Carlos stood to the right, squeezing a mysterious cream from a mysterious tube into Kendall's hand as he knelt directly in front of Logan, rubbing his greasy fingers up and down the length of the raven-haired boys' pants' zipper. The four froze at the sound of Gustavo's entry, then slowly turned their heads in a simultaneous fashion towards their befuddled boss.

"Uh…ha, ha," James laughed nervously, peeking out from behind Logan's closed knees, "This looks wrong, right?"

"—I don't wanna know," Gustavo cringed, clearly thrown for a loop, "just…Hurry up!" He shook his head wildly, trying to clear the unsettling image and regain his terrifying mojo, "GET YOUR BUTTS TO THE DANCE STUDIO!" The producer yelled with more gusto, sending the four scattering for the door, "NOW! !"

It was bad when Katie had turned the kitchen faucet on back at the apartment. It was even worse suffering through the bumpy ride to the studio. Warm-ups, harmonies, Carlos' stories and all of that, were no less unbearable, miserable, or horrible.

But nothing, nothing, compared to the torture of dance rehearsals.

Time after time, they had been asked to repeat the steps Mr. X had taught them the previous week; and time after time, they believed they'd executed the routine perfectly, only to be yelled at and made to do it again.

'Windows Down' blared from the overhead speakers yet again and the quartet found their marks, grudgingly re-starting the tour routine.

"Do your best," Kendall shouted over the music to his band mates, "Maybe this time we can go home,"

The other boys nodded their heads in agreement, giving it their all, each movement precise, controlled, and perfect until the second verse struck, finding Logan out of sync and bouncing crazily all over the expanse of the mirror-walled, wooden-floored dance room.

"THAT WAS TERRIBLE!" Gustavo screamed, killing the music with a blast of shrieking feedback, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE CRAP YOU WERE DOING, LOGAN—THAT WAS AWFUL—ALL OF YOU, BACK TO START, DO IT AGAIN! ! !"

Kendall, James, and Carlos shot their producer a dirty look and huffed back to their marks, but Logan stayed bunched up near the corner, unexpectedly bursting into tears.

"START AGAIN!" Gustavo demanded, about to flip the switch, "FROM THE TOP—" He dropped his chunky hand and sighed, looking into the booth to find a blubbering dog, "What's wrong with him, now? !"

"Ugh, Shame on you!" Kelly replied, whapping him disgustedly with her clipboard before running into the other room to coddle the sniffling boy.

"Ohhh…He's not really mad, Logan, it's okay, shh…it's okay," The kind assistant soothed, wrapping him in a careful embrace and sweeping his short bangs back to look at his pitiful face, much like a sweet pre-k teacher. "Hey, what's the matter?" she asked then, noticing the unmistakable pain behind his bleary eyes as he hissed through his teeth and curled in on himself, "What's wrong? Are you sick, Logan?"

"No," Logan gasped, pulling his knees together tight and starting to sob. He was in far too much agony now to even think about being embarrassed. He bit down hard on his bottom lip before he finally burst, blurting out the answer like a guilty child confessing to stealing cookies. "I just have to pee." He cried, hopping up and down, "Really, really bad!"

Kelly glanced at the teenager curiously, "Is that all?" she laughed, relieved. "Well, then why don't you just go?" She furrowed her brow, confused when he didn't make a move to leave, "It's not that big of a deal, go on, and then we'll worry about dancing."

"I can't…" Logan managed breathlessly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He squeaked shrilly, turning his back so she wouldn't see him squeezing the front of his pants, desperately.

"Logan, Gustavo would let you go to the bathroom if you need to. He can't stop you guys from that. Go ahead and hurry back." Kelly coaxed, giving him a little shove.

"No. It's not that, Kelly. He can't pee." Carlos explained. Logan started to cry louder. Kelly's eyes went wide.

"You can't?" She pulled the whimpering brunette around, looking him over with concern; "Is something wrong—Why didn't you guys say anything? Do you need a doctor?" she began worriedly.

"We had a water-drinking contest and his zipper jammed," James detailed.

Kendall nodded forlornly and picked up the rest. "He's been stuck in those pants all day."

"And you can't get out, at all? Can't even pull them off?" Kelly queried, as the boys shook their heads. "Oh my gosh…Okay, okay, don't worry; we'll get them off somehow, we'll find something…" she assured, whirling around to scour the studio for something helpful when Gustavo appeared behind them, having heard the conversation.

"I know what to do," The producer declared, catching his frantic assistant by the arm. "James, Kendall—Get him into the bathroom so if he explodes it'll be on tile and not my nice floor!" He ordered tactfully, pointing his bejeweled fingers at each mentioned party, "Kelly, Carlos—you come with me!" The record producer spun on his heel, racing down the hall.

"Ooh! Are we gonna call the fire department?" Carlos cheered, taking off after him and Kelly.

"No!" The producer and assistant could be heard yelling back; as James and Kendall hooked Logan through the elbows, quickly carting him off in the opposite direction; feet dangling.

…

"..F.B.I.'s still on speed dial if you wanna…"

"No F.B.I., James…" The leader asserted as they pushed through the door, hauling their stiff-as-a-board buddy inside; and setting him down gently in the middle of the room like a well-placed statue.

Logan backed against the wall, not sure how much longer his knees could keep him up; his leg muscles weak and shaky from holding so tense; his glassy eyes casting an almost explicit gaze as he stared longingly, lustfully, at the line of urinals before him.

He hopped from foot to foot across the floor, his bladder sending him into another involuntary jig.

Kendall and James ceased their argument concerning the true duties

of the F.B.I. and watched Logan curiously as he bounced past them, toeing off a shoe at a time and leaving the fancy footwear behind; not wanting to count his favorite sneakers among the casualties of the inevitable.

Logan scuttled back over to the urinals, tears of craving flooding his mocha eyes. A flush washed up his neck, his breathing came fast and shallow as he paced in front of them; white porcelain angels. Down below, his own plumbing burned with the anticipation of sweet release…

Then suddenly, the door burst open with the thunder of footsteps and nothing but a blur and a glint of blinding steel as he was surrounded.

One solid blade slid into his waistband, grazing down the length of his hip bone; the feel of the cold metal sheers sending a violent shiver through his weary body.

"Ahhh! Be careful where you're poking those scissors!"

"—Move your hands, Logan!"

"Be careful where you're stabbing those!"

"—Hold still!"

"I can't!"

"—Stop moving!"

"—Cut along the zipper!"

"—I know what I'm doing!"

"AAHHH! Watch it!"

"Logan, quit wiggling!—"

"—Got it!"

*SNIP* One final clip to the fabric and the treacherous pants met their end, falling to Logan's ankles. The other three leapt to the side, barely able to clear a path in time as the desperate teen let out a shriek, leaping entirely out of the evil pants and his boxers too; having no time for undoing buttons. His little chalky white backside shining bare for everyone to see as he let out a euphoric moan, falling on the nearest urinal just as the geyser he'd been holding burst forth.

Kendall, James, and Carlos looked to each other, not sure which was more surprising: this bizarre display of relief, or the fact that they had actually lost a bet to Logan.

Beyond weirded-out, and with nothing left to do but make good on their word, the three swiveled silently, shielded their eyes from disturbing bare-butt Logie, and walked awkwardly out of the restroom to retrieve their wallets; Logan still groaning in the background.

THE END

OH geez…that was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Please don't kill me, people. LOL. I swear I'll never write anything like it again!

Oh, dear Caitee…probably not what you expected, but I hope there was enough Logan-Potty-Dance in there for ya! The poor boy…

Thanks for reading!

Review if you feel like it!

Much love,

Emmaleigh