Book Excerpt for Sissy Baby Girl: For Rent by Wife

Sissy Baby Girl: For Rent by Wife -- Extract

A Tearful Wife's Mysterious Phone Call * Sybille at The Daze Inn * Sybille's Mysterious Business * No Escape Now * Baby Bondage Dreams * Sweet Baby Wendy * Waking Up in Diapers * Special Panties * First Time in a Crib * Life of the Party * Paul Starts Feeling Like Wendy * Wetting Her Panties While Everybody Watches * Paul Returns to His Wife

Wendy

Cover graphic design by Drew at idrewdesign on Fiverr.com.

The right of Wendy to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Sybille opened the apartment door with an electronic key similar to a car key. Once they were inside, it closed with a solid thump.

"The button is computer-coded to work only if it's my finger prints," she told Paul. "A thief couldn't make it work even he knew exactly what to do. Same on the inside. That door won't open again until I say so."

Paul laughed. "So I'm trapped in here?"

"That's right. There's no escape for you now."

Paul put both arms around her waist, pulled her close and tried to kiss her. She stopped him with a finger to his mouth.

"Remember -- the drink comes first," she said.

He released her, stepped back and nodded in mock humility. "My apologies. I forgot. It won't happen again."

"That's true."

Sybille slipped off her shoes and turned off all the lights in the living room except for one small lamp on the side opposite them. Then she went into the kitchen, returning with a carafe of gold but nameless liquid. She poured some into two tall wine glasses.

Paul took a sip and grimaced. "I'm not much of a wine drinker. Got a can of Bud?"

Sybille sat down close beside him, letting him feel her warmth, and waved her glass in front of his face.

"Drink it, Paul. It's what you need."

He took a long sip. It tasted sweet and powerful. Not bad, really.

"How's it taste now?"

"Better."

"Go on, drink it all down. You don't need to sip it like you like it."

"It's not so bad," Paul said, drinking more. "But what's it matter?"

He was starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was a lot stronger than it tasted. He'd had enough beers at The Daze Inn to feel high, but not that many.

He noticed that she wasn't drinking anything from her glass, and had a momentary thought that might be important, but he couldn't think why, and then he was distracted by her foot rubbing his leg.

Sybille put her arm around his shoulders. "Drink up," she whispered in that throaty, long drawn out voice, like a hypnotist in a movie. "Drink uppppppppppp."

The faint flow of the distant lamp swirled around Paul's eyes. Oh he was drunker than he'd thought . . . much, much drunker.

So drunk he didn't notice when he slid from a sitting position to lying on his back on the rich brown leather sofa, Sybille's face just above his. She was rubbing his chest in long, slow smooth circles.

He couldn't remember, but she must have unbutton his shirt, because her fingers and palm were smooth and warm against his bare skin, brushing through his chest hairs.

"Whahhhhhhh" Paul tried to talk, but his tongue and lips felt so heavy, filled with Novacaine at the dentist.

"Shhhhhhh," Sybille said. "I'm taking you back home."

"Back . . . home?" Paul felt a surge of emotion at the last word, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice.

Home.

Sounded like hope.

Home . . growing up with his family. Safe and warm. Loved and protected.

Kept sheltered . . . all his needs satisfied.

"Yes, back home. Go back, baby. Go back . . . go waaaaaaay back."

Paul nodded and closed his eyes. The years fell away from him. He was no longer a grown man, but a teenaged boy, and then a young boy, and then even days of school and sports fell from him and he slipped into a dream of lying naked in a bassinet, washed naked by hands connected to a loving voice . . . and rubbed oil and powder on him and then put cloth all around him . . .

. . . so he ate when those hands placed a warm nipple in his mouth so he could suck the sweet milk . . .

. . . and when it passed through him, the water squirted out of his tiny penis and shit squeezed though his asshole and he'd cry but soon was dry and warm and clean again . . .