Tom was still quite innocent when Kathleen came to work for the family, and he was very impressed by the Irish colleen. She was just three years his senior, and he was captivated by her curly black hair, pink cheeks and engaging smile.

She had come from Ireland through a friend of the family and was to be the "girl of all work," helping with the house hold chores, the cooking and the like.

Tom took to hanging around the kitchen - particularly when his mother wasn't there - to talk with Kathleen, who didn't seem to mind at all. She was well-built, too, her  breasts swelling against the rubber bib aprons she wore while she cooked or did the dishes.

It didn't take long for Tom to associate the smell of the rubber and the swish of the apron with Kathleen. He would often find himself with an erection, nurtured by his dreams of the dark-haired girl and her apron.

Finally came the day when he couldn't resist trying to put his revery into reality. His mother was out and Tom found an excuse to move close to Kathleen, his open hand falling against her breast. The coolness and smooth­ness of the rubber as he stroked it quickly aroused him.

But Kathleen moved away with a swish of her skirts, declaring with a smile, "Now, now, Thomas, what would your mother think of her son?"

Tom was somewhat abashed and, as much as anything to remove himself from scrutiny (for his reaction was very apparent below his belt), removed himself from the room.

Kathleen went out that night with some girlfriends and Tom, prowling the house alone, found himself in her small room. Her apron lay across a chair. Tom picked it up and drew it to his nose, inhaling deeply. How wonderful it smelled! How grand it felt!

Quickly, he made a decision. He closed the door and put the apron on, looking at himself in the mirror. And just as quickly came a powerful erec­tion. Tom unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs, his underpants following. He tumbled face-down on her bed and gave himself to the power of the rubber, moving rhythmically back and forth until his climax was sent into the folds of the apron.

He almost panicked as he came downfrom the heights. Quickly the apron came off and his pants were refastened. He rushed to the bathroom and wiped the apron clean and dry and hurried to put it back on the chair, his heart pounding.

It was the next week before he had another opportunity. It was Kathleen's night out and he was alone again. After some debate, he was drawn irresistibly to her room again. No apron lay on the chair. He opened the closet door and there, hanging on a hook was not one, but three, in green and lilac with pretty ruffles.

He took one in hand and was just fastening it when the door opened suddenly. It was Kathleen, back early from her evening out!

"What . . . What are you doing, Tom!" she exclaimed. And, as he  flushed a deep red, she regained her control and smiled, "Why, I do believe you've fallen in love -with my apron."

"Aprons aren't the only thing you can wear, you know," Kathleen told him as he completed his chore. "How do you like these?" She raised her skirt almost to her waist to reveal a pair of pink rubber bloomers. "Would you like something like that?"

Tom nodded speechlessly and stared at her, so sensuous as she held her skirt, the rubber falling in soft folds about her thighs.

Kathleen led him to her room. "I brought all this with me," she said as they entered, her arm sweeping to point to bed and chair. "It's not the usual thing, but it's something I like - and I think you will, too."

Tom's gaze followed her gesture. On the bed lay other pairs of rubber pants in varying colours and styles. Otherrubber clothes were spread out, too: that looked like a nightgown, that a dress, that a bra - a whole wardrobe!

"Let's start with these," Kathleen said, and picked up a pair of bloomers like hers, but in white. "Put them on." Tom hesitated.

"Oh, don't be silly. I won't look, if that's what you want."

She turned her back and he quickly shucked off his pants and underwear and pulled on the rubber garment. How strange it felt, restrictive, all covering, yet smooth and warm.

Kathleen turned. "Yes, I thought so. You love it, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes. It feels so . . . so . . . different."

"Off with the rest of your clothes. I have work to do and I need some help." Tom obeyed.

Kathleen picked up the rubber bra.

"Put your arms in. Now turn around." And she fastened it. "Now this. Wait a minute, you must look more girlish," and she stuffed two other pairs of rubber pants into the bra. "That's better. I think this will fit. You're not much taller than me." She took from the pile on the chair a little black dress, trimmed in white. "This is your maid's uniform."

The rubber slid over his head, his arms went through the little puffed sleeves and Kathleen zipped him up the back. Over the dress went a little white tea apron and on hi head a frilly cap.

"I knew you'd make a pretty maid," Kathleen smiled. "One more thing. They may be a bit tight, since your feet are bigger than mine, but a littletighness won't harm you." She made him sit down and tug on a pair of all-rubber boots, which came almost to his knees

Tom turned to look at himself in the mirror and, for the first time, felt the swish of skirts around his legs. His status - reduced to a girl, clad in clinging, enveloping rubber - excited him as he had never been before.

Now it was Kathleen's turn. She stripped off her house-dress, revealing that she, too, wore a rubber bra, which barely contained her charms. She pulled on a long-sleeved, tight-fitting blouse and a pair of tights, which she had to roll up her legs, so close did they cling. Her apron back in place, she turned to Tom, eyes glistening.

Her arms wrapped around him and they tumbled to the bed, amid all the other rubber clothing. Her hand moved under his skirt to the bulge in his rubber pants. Her other hand took his and moved it to her crotch.

She began to knead him, more and more rapidly, all the while pleading in an urgent whisper, "Do that to me, harder, harder." Her body began to writhe and her breath came hot. Tom surged against her hand, his body moving and twisting. And as his passion peaked, his manhood surged forth into the rubber folds and Kathleen came to a climax with small, high­pitched moans.

As they lay spent, she nibbled at his ear. "That's the beginning, my boy. If you will be my 'girlfriend' in rubber, we'll have a fine time."

Finally they rose and Tom said, "Can I have another pair of panties. These are all wet and sticky." ,

"No, you can't," she answered. "You can wear those the way they are. They'll just feel that much better. Now don't argue or you'll spoil it all." Again Tom submitted.

For the rest of the day she had him help her clean the house and change the bed. She even showed him how to wash her regular lingerie. He became increasingly warm and moist, but his discomfort was assuaged by Kathleen's pats and carresses as she moved him from job to job. At one point her thumb moved as deeply as the rubber pants would allow into his rear, until he squirmed for relief. 

After dinner, when the dishes were washed and put away, Kathleen told  him, "It's time for lesson number two. 

Go draw a bath and take off all your  clothes, except the panties."

When the bath was ready, Kathleen ordered Tom into it. She knelt beside the tub and soaped him thoroughly, her hand slipping inside the panties to lather him and arouse him again.'

"My baby is all washed," she said as she finished. "Now, dry yourself off, rinse the dress and panties and dry them and powder them. When you're done, come to my room."

Tom completed his chore. He hesitated, then put on a bathrobe before going to her room.

"Now take that off, you have nothing to be shy about," she said, grabbing a handful of robe. "Now lie down."

There was a rubber sheet on the bed and he lay on it on his back. Kathleen took baby oil and powder and applied them liberally to him, front and rear. Then she produced a mass of cloth, folded in a long rectangle and ordered him, "Lift up your hips."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Just a diaper, baby. I can't have you wandering about the house with nothing on."

"I don't want to wear a . . . . 

"Be still," Kathleen commanded. She manipulated him to erection, then bent over and with her lovely mouth quickly brought him to climax. "That should quiet you down," she smiled, as Tom sank back into the rubber sheet, satiated.

She pinned him into the diaper, using extra pins around the thighs, let him put his bathrobe back on and they went downstairs.

They watched television together, Tom forgetting the strangeness of his garb. And Kathleen kept bringing him soft drinks and finally a big glass of milk before bedtime.

"We can sleep together, in my room," she told him. That was a great reward as far as Tom was concerned. But it did not turn out quite as he had in mind.

In her room, Kathleen stripped and lay on the bed. "Now you diaper me," she said. He did, his hands trembling as they applied the oil and powder to her fur and buttocks. The bed was made up with rubber sheets.

She produced rubber panties for both and then very short baby doll rubber nighties. Only when Tom was in bed did he start to think about going to the bathroom.

"I've got to get up," he whispered. "Be right back."

"No, stay where you are," Kathleen murmured, reaching for him. She rolled over on top of him and, as her body pressed against him, he could feel a surge and a warmth through her rubber panties.

"I'm getting wet, like a bad little baby," she said softly. "You can do that, too. You'll feel so much better." But Tom couldn't, lying as he was and with years of training not to wet his bed. But the pressure became unbear­able. First there came a little trickle. And then as he strained, his water gushed forth, spreading across his stomach inside the diaper, then down his sides and across the back. He had a feeling of great sexual relief, a feeling of return to the security of his baby­hood.

They slept the night in a tangle of legs and in the clamminess of wet diapers and warmth of rubber. He woke to a new day, feeling languid and docile, very much a baby, but with the ability to be a man at the same time.

Kathleen kept him in his wet diaper, although she made him take hers and wash it and clean up her rubber panty. She dressed him again in his maid's uniform and made him get breakfast and then clean up.

Lesson number three, or was it four, came after that. Kathleen sat him down in her room and carefully made him up: foundation, blusher, mascara, and lip­stick. Tom, looking in a mirror, saw a not unattractive, somewhat boyish young girl emerge. A long wig com­pleted the metamorphosis.

Again he was excited. But this time his reaction was oddly different. He wet his pants again, the now soaked diaper squished as he moved.

"What an adorable young lady," Kathleen exclaimed. "All dressed up like that, you're too good to hide. Come on."

Oblivious to what she had said, Tom followed her down stairs. It had started to rain earlier and Kathleen took from the closet two long-hooded rubber raincapes. "We're going to the movies," she remarked casually.

"I can't go out like this. Somebody will recognize me!"

"No they won't," she answered. And she fastened the cape around his neck and put the hood over his head. "In the hood and all made up, nobody will know you."

His heart was pounding as they stepped on the porch and then to the street. He felt totally exposed, as if he was streaking. It was several blocks to the theatre and he kept his head down, eyes glancing from side to side. He was sweating even more inside his rubber dress. The rain kept street traffic down and the theatre was mercifully dark.

But he remained tense through most of the movie, hardly knowing what it was about. When the lights came up and they stood to leave, he almost panicked. For, three rows in front of him, were three girls from school, looking right at him!

Home after a frantic walk, all turmoil, he almost cried as he told Kathleen what had happened.

"What will I do! She'll tell everybody! Oh, my God!" he moaned.

"I don't think so. She left the others to talk to you. Maybe we have a third for our parties," Kathleen answered.

Now the day had turned horrendous for Tom. He wanted out of those rubber clothes and out of the diaper; to be a boy again. When he began to make a fuss, Kathleen appeared to soothe him.

"Come on up to my room and we'll make a change," she said.

When she had him lie down again, however, she quickly bound him to the bed, spreadeagled. There he spent the rest of the day, wet, sticky, sweaty.

In early evening, Kathleen released him. "You can become Tom again, if you want."

He did so with relief. And he was as boyish as he could be. He was glad when his parents arrived home. But as he fell asleep that night, his thoughts returned to his rubber weekend. It had really been thrilling. And maybe that other girl - what was her name? - Pam, that was it - maybe she would

Tom got out of bed and rummaged for his apron and put it on again. He snuggled against it. And as he drifted to sleep, he began to hope for another chance, another weekend. He was hooked, he was Kathleen's rubber baby maid.