Author Description

I used to be billionaire Wallace W. Wadsworth IV.Not anymore.I am Womb Number 3.I am a human slug in a rubber cocoon: bound, gagged and helpless.If I'm good, they say, I may emerge someday as Baby Wiggles: a newborn girl in diapers, colorful plastic panties, froufrou dresses and frilly bonnets.But for now I am just an embryo. I cannot see. I cannot speak. I cannot touch. I can barely hear. I am completely at the mercy of others for all my needs.It's all my mistake. I let things get out of control.I've always had fantasies about being an adult baby, dominated and degraded.I designed and built my own nursery. And when my wife ignored my needs, I hired other women to come to our mansion and indulge me.One day, my wife decided to take control. But not in the way I hoped.I should have been suspicious when she got me to dress in diapers and dainties. But I played along. I let her fetter and gag me. Stupid me! Before I knew it, I was being shipped off to The Asylum for the Creative Reintroduction of Infantile Behavior (CRIB). What a cruel twist!I have long been an advocate of diversion programs for scoundrels, slackers, and hooligans. That's why, at my wife's urging, I created a foundation to underwrite the entire construction and operation of CRIB.That's right! I'm paying for the whole darn asylum!Now I am its captive.I have been diapered, dressed in humiliating toddler outfits, forced fed, chained up, spanked, caned, and caged. I have had to crawl, to beg for punishment, and to surrender control completely.But there is a bright side.I am smitten.I have finally found a woman who understands.She likes being an adult baby, too. Her alphabet blocks -- like mine -- spell out ABDL, DDLG, and BDSM.We could baby one another.I'd love it.She'd love it.We've talked about it. We've embraced it. We would be together right now if it wasn't for that one terrific yet terrifying moment that changed everything.Will I see her again?Will she want me?Will I still be worth loving?I don't know