The doorbell rang, and I felt a familiar flutter of anticipation in my chest. I glanced down at myself, checking that everything was in place—the oversized shirt, the soft fabric of the diaper peeking out from underneath, and the pacifier clipped to my shirt. I took a deep breath and answered the door.There she was, my neighbor, Nurse Emily. She looked as immaculate as ever in her crisp white uniform, her blonde hair tied back neatly, and that warm smile that always made me feel safe. “Hey there, little one,” she cooed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “How are we feeling today?”“Good,” I managed to squeak out, my voice muffled by the pacifier. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I also felt a thrill run through me. This was what I wanted, needed. The safety of being taken care of, the excitement of exploring this side of myself under her watchful eye.She led me to the living room, where she’d set up a small area on the floor with a blanket and some toys. “Why don’t you play for a little while?” she suggested, ruffling my hair gently. “I’ll get everything ready for your check-up.”I nodded obediently and sat down on the blanket, grabbing a stuffed bunny from the pile of toys. My mind was racing, though; every touch, every word from her felt electric. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, preparing whatever it was she needed. A part of me wanted to watch, to see what she was doing, but another part—a bigger part—was content to wait, to trust her entirely.After a few minutes, she called me over. “Come here, sweetie,” she said sweetly, patting her lap. I shuffled over, feeling the crinkle of the diaper beneath me, and settled onto her lap. She adjusted me so my back was against her chest, cradling me like a baby. “Let’s take a look at you, shall we?”Her hands moved expertly, undoing the tapes on my diaper. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the warmth of her fingers as they inspected me. “Hmm, looks like someone had an accident,” she murmured, her tone a mix of amusement and concern. I buried my face in her shoulder, unable to meet her eyes.“It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head. “Accidents happen. That’s why we have diapers, right?” She shifted me slightly, positioning me so she could reach the wipes and cream she’d brought. Her touch was gentle, almost soothing, as she cleaned me up, her fingers gliding over my skin with practiced ease.I barely registered the initial coolness of the wipe before she applied the lotion, massaging it into my skin. It was only when she started taping the new diaper in place that I realized just how turned on I was. The combination of vulnerability and care was intoxicating, making me feel both exposed and secure.“There we go, all clean and fresh,” she said, giving my diaper a playful pat. “You did very well, little one.”I squirmed a bit, still seated on her lap, feeling the gentle pressure of her arms around me. “Thank you,” I mumbled through the pacifier, my voice barely audible.She chuckled softly. “You’re welcome, sweetie. Now, why don’t we have a little snack?”Before I could respond, she stood up, adjusting me so I was held securely against her chest. She carried me effortlessly to the kitchen, where she’d laid out a tray with a bottle of juice and some graham crackers. Setting me down in a high chair she’d pulled out earlier, she began feeding me, her fingers slipping between my lips to guide the cracker into my mouth.Each bite, each sip, felt impossibly intimate, heightened by the knowledge that she knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to make me feel. It wasn’t just about the physical acts—it was the way she looked at me, the way she spoke, the way she cared for me. It was everything.As she fed me, she talked softly, asking about my day, my feelings, occasionally glancing down at my diaper to ensure I was comfortable. Every once in a while, her hand would drift lower, brushing against the edge of the diaper, sending shivers through me.“Are you enjoying this, little one?” she asked, her voice low and husky.I nodded eagerly, my cheeks flushing again. There was no need to speak; she understood me perfectly.With the last of the snacks gone, she wiped my face gently with a damp cloth, then lifted me out of the high chair. “Alright, time for your nap,” she decided, carrying me back to the living room and laying me down on the blanket.“But…” I protested weakly, not wanting this moment to end.“Shh,” she hushed, stroking my hair. “Just rest for now. You’ve been such a good boy.”Her words were like a lullaby, calming me even as they stirred something deeper within. I closed my eyes, letting her presence soothe me, feeling her hand continue its gentle rhythm on my back. But even as drowsiness started to overtake me, I couldn’t ignore the growing tension between us.“Emily…” I murmured, opening my eyes to look up at her.She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. “What is it, sweetie?”I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question. “Can we… can we do more?”Her eyes darkened with understanding, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, in a move that surprised me, she kissed me lightly on the forehead. “We’ll see,” she whispered, her lips lingering against my skin. “For now, just relax.”I nodded slowly, feeling a surge of hope mixed with uncertainty. What exactly did I want from her? More than just the care and attention, that much was clear. But what more? And how far was too far?Before I could dwell on it further, she stood up, her gaze never leaving mine. “Stay here,” she instructed softly. “I’ll be right back.”As she walked away, I watched her go, my mind racing with possibilities. What did she have in mind? What was she going to do next?

The chapter begins with the narrator answering the door to their neighbor Nurse Emily, who invites them into a play area. Emily performs a diaper check and change on the narrator, then feeds them a snack before settling them down for a nap. The narrator expresses desire for more interaction, to which Emily replies ambiguously.

The doorbell rang, and I felt a familiar flutter of anticipation in my chest. I glanced down at myself, checking that everything was in place—the oversized shirt, the soft fabric of the diaper peeking out from underneath, and the pacifier clipped to my shirt. I took a deep breath and answered the door.

There she was, my neighbor, Nurse Emily. She looked as immaculate as ever in her crisp white uniform, her blonde hair tied back neatly, and that warm smile that always made me feel safe. “Hey there, little one,” she cooed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “How are we feeling today?”

“Good,” I managed to squeak out, my voice muffled by the pacifier. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I also felt a thrill run through me. This was what I wanted, needed. The safety of being taken care of, the excitement of exploring this side of myself under her watchful eye.

She led me to the living room, where she’d set up a small area on the floor with a blanket and some toys. “Why don’t you play for a little while?” she suggested, ruffling my hair gently. “I’ll get everything ready for your check-up.”

I nodded obediently and sat down on the blanket, grabbing a stuffed bunny from the pile of toys. My mind was racing, though; every touch, every word from her felt electric. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, preparing whatever it was she needed. A part of me wanted to watch, to see what she was doing, but another part—a bigger part—was content to wait, to trust her entirely.

After a few minutes, she called me over. “Come here, sweetie,” she said sweetly, patting her lap. I shuffled over, feeling the crinkle of the diaper beneath me, and settled onto her lap. She adjusted me so my back was against her chest, cradling me like a baby. “Let’s take a look at you, shall we?”

Her hands moved expertly, undoing the tapes on my diaper. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the warmth of her fingers as they inspected me. “Hmm, looks like someone had an accident,” she murmured, her tone a mix of amusement and concern. I buried my face in her shoulder, unable to meet her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head. “Accidents happen. That’s why we have diapers, right?” She shifted me slightly, positioning me so she could reach the wipes and cream she’d brought. Her touch was gentle, almost soothing, as she cleaned me up, her fingers gliding over my skin with practiced ease.

I barely registered the initial coolness of the wipe before she applied the lotion, massaging it into my skin. It was only when she started taping the new diaper in place that I realized just how turned on I was. The combination of vulnerability and care was intoxicating, making me feel both exposed and secure.

“There we go, all clean and fresh,” she said, giving my diaper a playful pat. “You did very well, little one.”

I squirmed a bit, still seated on her lap, feeling the gentle pressure of her arms around me. “Thank you,” I mumbled through the pacifier, my voice barely audible.

She chuckled softly. “You’re welcome, sweetie. Now, why don’t we have a little snack?”

Before I could respond, she stood up, adjusting me so I was held securely against her chest. She carried me effortlessly to the kitchen, where she’d laid out a tray with a bottle of juice and some graham crackers. Setting me down in a high chair she’d pulled out earlier, she began feeding me, her fingers slipping between my lips to guide the cracker into my mouth.

Each bite, each sip, felt impossibly intimate, heightened by the knowledge that she knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to make me feel. It wasn’t just about the physical acts—it was the way she looked at me, the way she spoke, the way she cared for me. It was everything.

As she fed me, she talked softly, asking about my day, my feelings, occasionally glancing down at my diaper to ensure I was comfortable. Every once in a while, her hand would drift lower, brushing against the edge of the diaper, sending shivers through me.

“Are you enjoying this, little one?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

I nodded eagerly, my cheeks flushing again. There was no need to speak; she understood me perfectly.

With the last of the snacks gone, she wiped my face gently with a damp cloth, then lifted me out of the high chair. “Alright, time for your nap,” she decided, carrying me back to the living room and laying me down on the blanket.

“But…” I protested weakly, not wanting this moment to end.

“Shh,” she hushed, stroking my hair. “Just rest for now. You’ve been such a good boy.”

Her words were like a lullaby, calming me even as they stirred something deeper within. I closed my eyes, letting her presence soothe me, feeling her hand continue its gentle rhythm on my back. But even as drowsiness started to overtake me, I couldn’t ignore the growing tension between us.

“Emily…” I murmured, opening my eyes to look up at her.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. “What is it, sweetie?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question. “Can we… can we do more?”

Her eyes darkened with understanding, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, in a move that surprised me, she kissed me lightly on the forehead. “We’ll see,” she whispered, her lips lingering against my skin. “For now, just relax.”

I nodded slowly, feeling a surge of hope mixed with uncertainty. What exactly did I want from her? More than just the care and attention, that much was clear. But what more? And how far was too far?

Before I could dwell on it further, she stood up, her gaze never leaving mine. “Stay here,” she instructed softly. “I’ll be right back.”

As she walked away, I watched her go, my mind racing with possibilities. What did she have in mind? What was she going to do next?

abdl, baby diaper, Diaper fetishism, cleaning up with diaper with nurse, roleplay with nurse neighbor. 

Adult Baby Roleplay with Neighbor

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