Name: Nicky
Ages: 10
Current Age: 19

My dad works as a cameramen, sometimes for news agencies, sometimes for 
T.V. broadcasters and sometimes for motion picture studios. Sadly, he 
only works for "B" type movies or "made for TV." movies.

When I was 10 years, on summer, he got a contract to shot a movie in 
some studios on New York. Since I was on vacation, and the work on the 
picture was going to be fast, my dad invited me to go with him. I, of 
course accepted. I looked forward to know "the great New York", my dad 
promised to take me to the biggest attractions. We got a glimpse of 
N.Y. as we arrived by bus. Our base motel was in the outskirts, near 
the studios, and for three weeks was almost all I got to know. To the 
studios all day and returning to the motel at night, to sleep. I didn't 
blame my dad: he was tired.

The movie, according to my dad was a "$%&/ crap". It was called 
"Klasten castle". It was suppose to be a thriller of a mad scientist 
and his victims. It had some sex scenes (they didn't let me to the set 
when shooting these.) But the director and the author of the script 
were fighting about practically all. The writer had to rewrite almost 
all the scenes. And the crew has to re-shoot the situations. According 
to my dad, they were fighting about a woman, prisoner of the scientist. 
The actors' union claimed the labor quota of the actress was over. The 
writer then asked: 

"Of who is son that kid in the set?"

"Mine," said my father. "Why?"

The writer told my dad he could rewrite the story to change the woman 
for a child. Her part was minimal. The boy gets a picture, some 
dollars, the company saved hundreds and all world is happy.

I was reading sitting over a cardboard scenario (the production was 
cheap!), boring, waiting for the lunch break. My dad proposed me the 
deal. I wouldn't act, only dress and sit on the set to be shot. I 
thought me as a movie star and accepted. After the lunch my dad took me 
to the dressing room. A gay man gave me a white soft thing, grinning.

"What�s this?" I asked.

"Your diaper. It�s all your costume."

I went to talk with my dad. The writer was telling him the scene: the 
crazy boy, in diapers, keep held in a cage by Dr. Klasten, groans and 
shakes the cage bars every time the doctor get near. What?! That wasn�t 
in my contract!

I tried to refuse, but the director and my dad told me the crew 
finished the set for me. It was too late. Sorry, you don�t like. My dad 
took me away: it was going to cost a lot to change again. You want dad 
to be in danger of get fired? I had to accept.

In the dress room I tried to keep my underwear, but it showed with the 
diaper. The diaper was an adult disposable diaper. White with adhesive 
stripes, too big and wide for me. The dresser man fixed it with 
adhesive tape. He wrapped me in a towel and gave me a slap in my 
bottom. I wanted to kept the towel until be in the set, but the make-up 
girl took it off. She covered all my body, face and hair included with 
powder "to kill all the shines on you" and put me a wig of long, 
uncombed and dirty hair. I had to go to the set with only the diaper. I 
was all red, and in the set I felt the eyes of all the crew on me. I 
heard some laughs.

Then I had to climb and sat inside a cage in the set. I did rehearsal 
the scenes several times: shake the bars, having a terror or an anger 
expression and moan when the doctor came. When the work began it got 
worse: the cage was uncomfortable, the lights were blinding and made 
steam-hot the set, we had to shot the scenes several times if someone 
misses the lines or the director didn�t like it and they had a lot of 
delayed scenes. My dad reinforced my instructions. When I was covered 
with sweat, the make-up girl powdered me again. And the worst was to be 
in diapers in front a lot of people. That night the make-up girl rubbed 
me with baby oil to remove the powder. In the motel I showered and fell 
into my bed, exhausted and wanted to cry. They told me the work would 
last two days, as maximum. I had to do it for 4 hell days more. When I 
walked to the set (with a new diaper every day, they end soaked in 
sweat) I heard them making soft noises and rubbing my dick and balls. 
The third day, when I was "acting" I felt that my dick was getting 
harder and harder with every movement I did. Fortunately the diaper 
didn't let it show. It happened again and again.

At least I was able to look at the camera and see the fuzzy shadow of 
my dad, behind the camera. But the last day, he had to work in another 
set and I was on my own. The top of the cage flipped to open and close 
and had a fake lock. But that day, at lunch break, one of the 
crewmembers, as a joke, put a real padlock on it, leaving me as a real 
prisoner. I was there, grabbing the bars, scared, calling for help, 
until the make-up girl (who became my friend since the second day) 
requested the key of the padlock and took me out. I was almost crying. 
And my dad told me the original story called for "a boy chained to the 
cage", and was changed. 

It finally finished, and my dad promised me to stay at least two more 
days in N.Y. to let me spend my hard-earned dollars.

I gave a little gift to the make-up girl, and I hope that other $%& 
crewmember know who let out all the air of the four tires of his car.

I think you can find that movie in your video rental, in the 
"unbearable" section [Note from Deeker: tried to look for it on 
imdb.com but had no luck.], but you won't see me: during the post-
production the editor deleted all my scenes... fortunately. In my worst 
nightmares I saw all my friends of school going to the see it. 

Had to take it out of my chest...

Thank You.