My vacation in Japan was a disaster, although it started out fairly well, thanks to an unexpected upgrade. First class meant a full size bed, and I slept like a baby. They had to wake me up to get some food in me, before we reached Tokyo.



From there it went downhill. The two glasses of wine probably didn't help, but I left my carry-on in the plane. Thank goodness I didn't keep my passport in it, but it did have my stash of cash. The first thing I did at the airport was taking a dump, when I realized I had forgotten my bag. Back at the gate they didn't let me into the plane, but they guaranteed there was no bag left in it. Most likely someone had found it and sent it to the baggage claim.



At least I managed to get through security fairly quickly, given the fact that all passengers were through already. But when I reached the belt, all luggage was taken off by then, and my suitcase nowhere to be seen. A small pile of bags on the side did not contain either of my cases. So I had to get in line to report my lost luggage.



The wait was more than an hour and when it finally was my turn I realized I was robbed. I had one of these pouches around my waist, but it had slipped towards my back and someone simply lifted my passport, my phone and wallet from it. They took all my cards, including driver's license, then put my wallet back in, with just some American cash left. 37 whole dollars was all I had, plus the clothes I was wearing.



The lady at the desk was nice but did not speak English very well. Still better than my Japanese though. Since I had kept the sticker with my bag tag number together with my boarding pass in my passport, I had no proof I even had checked in a bag.

And my carry-on never had a tag.



But together we managed to fill in the form, up to the point that I had to give the address of the hotel I was staying. I had that information just on my cell, I mean who prints that stuff out anymore? But without phone I could not remember what hotel it was. And I had prepaid for the week to get a much better rate.



At that moment my luck turned slightly. A number of bags were delivered to the area behind the lady, and I recognized my suitcase. The only problem was that I couldn't prove it was mine, as there was no tag on it. She wanted me to describe some of the content, but when she tried to open the case, it was locked. I never bothered with the 3 digit code, but someone had moved it around.



Panic settled in and the lady took pity on me. She said she trusted me and handed me the case. Then she suggested a small hotel where I could stay and they would send the carry-on there, if it was found. She made a picture of my big case, as it part of the set.



As a final service she summoned a taxi by phone and told the driver where to take me, and five minutes later I was on my way. Of course it was rush hour, or maybe this was normal traffic. But when we reached the hotel the meter showed a number and I had no clue how much it was. I showed my few dollars and he took them all, and the meter went down by half, so I probably owed him another 40 or so.



He pointed at my suitcase, but no way would I let go of that. Then he pointed at my coat and my golf shirt under it. In just my old undershirt the meter was still not fully paid, until he had my sneakers as well. So I looked fairly shabby when I stood at the front desk, trying to get a room.



Another nice lady asked me for my passport and credit card, and I had neither. That's when I realized I didn't file a police report, as I was at the luggage desk, and from there straight into the taxi. It helped remind me of the paperwork I had for my still missing bag and when I showed it, one phonecall resolved the issue. Both ladies that had helped me, knew each other well, and in rapid Japanese the situation was explained.



Now, with no money, no shoes, no passport or any form of ID, they were not willing to give me any guestroom, but they were willing to give me one of the rooms where the personnel stayed. And I had to sign a document that stated I would work twelve hours per day, to pay for the room and food that was provided to the workers.



I did not really have a choice. I needed something in order to try to put my finances back together. I needed to call my bank in the US to report the theft and send me some money here. And this was the address that my carry-on would be sent to, and it had Japanese cash in it. With hopefully enough time left of my three weeks of vacation to enjoy some of it still.



So I signed the paperwork, even though it was all in Japanese. The front desk lady gave me a key for my room and explained where it was. Below ground level, but I could care less by now. She gave me four hours to settle before my shift would start, and she told me where to report, so they could give me a uniform. By now I was too tired to protest, I simply nodded.



My room was just a bed and a closet, with a tiny sink with cold water only. And apparently a huge nail sticking out, as I passed it, tearing my pants completely in two. I guess things were not meant to improve. At least I had my suitcase, so I could change into some fresh clothes. If I could break the lock that is.



There was nothing in the room that I could use to physically open the lock. So I had to use the hard way, trying out all 999 combinations. With my luck it would be the last combination. It was a pain but I cracked the code in about two hours with code 321. When I finally opened my case...



It wasn't mine. That much was clear. What was worse, it clearly belonged to some Japanese woman. With traditional clothing only. There were two sets of what I assumed were kimonos. With what I would consider some old fashioned underwear. One-pieces only, which means it looked like a full body, or a swimsuit, with built-in bra that had quite some padding.



I looked at my own underwear, which was torn by the nail as well, and when I felt how strong it held together, it simply fell off me. So I had two choices. Wear a kimono over my naked body. Or I try the underwear as well. The temperature in the room decided for me. I needed every layer I could get.



By now I was happy that there were no windows in the room, so nobody would accidentally see me. I stepped into the body and pulled the material over my hips, all the way until the straps were over my shoulders. But it was way too loose, except for the crotch area that tucked my manhood between my legs, so I looked quite flat in the front.



Looking at the second body on the bed, I realized there were laces in the back, so I needed to somehow tighten the straps on my back. It took me about five minutes during which I didn't get any warmer, before I got an idea. The same nail that tore my clothes came in handy now, as I tied the laces around it, all working behind my back. When it seemed to be okay,  I slowly stepped forward, and across the whole length of the body the laces tightened.



Somehow, in the way the laces crossed themselves each time, it tightened onto itself, so when I stepped back a bit, it did not loosen up. So I paced slowly forward, trying to find the right tension. Until I hit one of the floorboards that was sticking out a bit, with my bare toe. I tripped and fell forward, only to be stopped by the same laces, that were suddenly super tight now.



I could not find a way behind my back to relieve the laces a bit. So eventually I gave in, pulling the excess laces around my waist a few times, then tying it together. The padded bra cups that before seemed as loose as the rest, now stood tight and proud on my chest. They were bigger than I could fit in my hands, and I could not push them down.



I would have to worry about that later, so cold I was by now, so I picked what seemed like the thickest kimono, and wrapped it around me. The material warmed me instantly and by now I could care less that it was an extremely feminine fit. I just had to prevent the robe from falling open, and after some experimenting it was clear what the waistband was for, with a huge bow on my back.



I realized now that I would not have been able to fit the kimono closed, had it not been for the extra tightness of the laces of what I now realized was my corset. A lucky accident?



There was a small mirror in the room, and when I looked at myself my body looked undeniably female. The kimono material was so soft and a bit shiny and followed my "curves" fluidly. Only my face gave away that I was a man. That's when I noticed the black wig.



It was exactly what you see in pictures of traditional Japanese women. Geisha's. Just for fun I put the wig on, and with a bit of shifting, it finally looked like it was part of me. I was shocked how more female it made me. If my face would be fully white, with red lips and black eyebrows...



I had to laugh, then yawn. I figured I had maybe an hour and a half left, before I had to start my twelve hour shift, so I better get a small nap in. In all my new clothes, under the blanket, I fell asleep in seconds.



I woke up from a loud crash. Then someone screamed in my ear. For a moment I had no clue where I was, until I opened my eyes and saw a big Japanese woman glaring at me. She said something very definite, but I had no idea what. So I said softly, in English, I don't speak Japanese.



She clearly didn't like what she heard. If it was my voice or my language, but she searched something on the cart that she had pulled in my room, and whatever she found she pushed into my mouth, while squeezing my jaw. It felt like a rubber mouthpiece and when it was all around my teeth, she pushed my chin up so I bit hard into the rubber. And that kept my teeth together.



No longer could I pull my teeth apart again and effectively I could no longer talk. Nor could I protest when she saw my wig lopsided and she pulled it off in one move, taking some of my real hair with it. With tears in my eyes I did not see her grabbing a huge knife and in seconds all hair was removed from my head. Then with some foul smelling goo on my head she pushed the wig back on, set it right, and held it for about two minutes.



Then with each of her thumbs she pushed into my eyes and that shut my eyelids, and I could not blink them open again. She gave one short command, that sounded like quiet, and I did not dare to move anymore.



The next ten minutes she was working on my face with what felt like spray paint. Then she was brushing around my eyes, my lips and then my cheeks. Eventually she pushed my eyes again, and my lids opened. The first thing I saw was a small mirror she held in front of me, and I saw the face of a Japanese woman. White, with bright red lips painted on, and my eyes looked slanted now, as my cheeks were rouge.



When she pulled the blanket off me, and saw I was fully dressed, I saw a hint of approval in her eyes. But she had me stand up and in seconds my kimono was removed and folded away. My corset did not have her approval though. She untied the laces around my waist, then tightened them way more than what I had accidentally done. She then tied them on my back and somehow worked away all of the extra length. I knew I would not be able to remove it without help.



Next she rubbed more goo on any bit of skin that wasn't covered. After about five minutes it started burning and she wiped it eventually away with a wet towel. Then she dried me and there was not one hair left on my skin.



Now she had me step in the uniform she had brought for me. It was a maid's uniform, clearly, in black vinyl, with a short skirt, that covered a white petticoat, showing just a white hem under the skirt. After she zipped up the back, all the way to my neck, I heard a click and she showed me a tiny key that she added onto her necklace where she had at least a dozen more keys. The finishing touch was a pair of short boots that were also locked on me. I estimated the heels at three inch and I had no clue how I was going to walk in them.



When I saw myself in the mirror I was a Japanese maid, in a sexy uniform that was probably more aimed at guests than for the purpose of cleaning. My breasts stood out even more on my now very narrow waist. A vinyl cap was added to my hair, showing what I figured was my name. This was confirmed by the woman, who tapped me on my chest, saying Yoko. I tried to repeat, but I had forgotten about the mouthpiece, so I simply nodded.



She suddenly pushed me on the bed, lifted my skirt, and smacked me with a paddle. I cried out in pain, which resulted in another slap. When I finally stopped crying as she slapped, she stopped as well. She said again, Yoko, and gave a small bow. I now understood, so I bowed back. She said something, pulling the paddle back for another hit, but I bowed much deeper now, which seemed to satisfy her.



She had me put on some long rubber gloves, which made sense I thought, if you're about to clean bathtubs and what not. But looking in the mirror I realized it simply made the outfit more sexy, the shiny black gloves complementing the dress. Finally a black rubber fitting mask, as they were still very worried about Covid, but it made me wonder why my lips had to be painted red.



Thankfully she had me push the cart, as it allowed me to get used to the heels, without wobbling too much. In one of the guestrooms she named all the pieces that had to be cleaned and showed me how to clean them. The language was hard to understand but she kept repeating the words. For my sake, I realized, because when she just said one of the words, and I didn't know what to clean, she paddled me at least ten times. It helped getting my priorities right, although I was still spanked two more times out of ten tries.



I didn't particularly like cleaning the toilets, as they seemed filthy, but also because I had to do it while bent over, my petticoated butt sticking up in the air. I was warned multiple times, through severe beating under my skirt, how important bending over was like that.



After three rooms she let me do one by myself. She watched me, only saying the item that needed cleaning and by now I knew the Japanese word for each item. From a minuscule smile I figured she was happy with my performance, when she gave me the command to bend over. Believe me, by now I was already conditioned to specifically recognize that command, but I worried if she was going to spank me, and I had no clue why.



As I waited for the pain to follow, she pulled my underwear to the side, and suddenly she pushed something in my rear. I knew not to cry, but I gasped, as she moved her rubber gloved finger deep in me, then added a second. The relief I felt for not being slapped gave me an unexpected pleasant feeling, where I normally would have been disgusted.



Two more rooms I had to do, in the last one without any command. I made no mistakes, and was "rewarded" with more fingers in my ass while doing the toilet and at the end of each room. I actually felt proud for her approval. Then she paired me with another maid.



The girl looked exactly like me, except she was allowed to talk. In a brief discussion with the head mistress as I called the bigger woman in my head, she was handed over the paddle, and I heard the name of all items I was supposed to clean. The last thing I was told was the name of my new partner, Yuri, who was pleasantly surprised when I bowed deep for her.



Of course things did not proceed going well. I had sort of gotten used to my heels, but my feet got so tired that I wobbled, spilling water over the floor. It resulted in a serious spanking, which I thought was unfair. But then Yuri compensated by showing me how in each room there was a moment of about five minutes that we could get off our feet, and clean as we sat down on the bed. The wink she gave me told me I had made a friend.



This became particularly true when she rewarded me the first time. Her fingers entered my rear in a very sensual way, and a small moan escaped from me. She went in deeper and with more fingers and moved in and out until I felt a shiver. Then with a soft pad she had me stand up again, and she gave me another wink.



I hate to say it, but my desire to perform my cleaning duties in a perfect way soon ruled my brain. Not until much later did I realize I was being conditioned like that dog, who reacted to the bell, expecting a treat. But in a way Yuri had been conditioned in a similar way, because she enjoyed giving me the pleasure as well as seeing me happy with my reward.



There was a 15 minute break during which me and seven other maids could eat. Well, I only got a thick drink, a mix of milkshake and smoothie, and had to work hard to suck it through the thin straw that I could guide between my mouth guard. Yuri however kept teaching me more Japanese words, naming all foods, and also the names of the other girls. By now I wished I could talk again, simply so I could repeat the words, trying to get it right.



The rest of my shift went without any punishment but with more treats. By the end I was very tired, hungry and I felt dirty. That was a common theme as we all reported to a large washroom, where the head mistress sprayed us all clean with a hose, our uniforms clearly not affected by the water. Eventually we were all unlocked so we could take off the shoes and dress. And everyone seemed to have a corset like me, and in pairs we released each other.



Since I was not very experienced it took longer and I was the last one to be naked as the other maids took all a hot shower. That's when someone started screaming, followed by the rest. The head mistress stepped in and saw immediately what the problem was. I was the only male maid.