In autumn the night falls fast in Tokyo.
At six the city is already dark, but of course it is brightened by giant billboards and shops' neon signs.
That Friday, my business meetings with the Japanese customers had finished in the early afternoon, so by now I should have been at Narita airport, ready to return home; instead, the company's Travel Manager had decided that it was cheaper to book me a Saturday morning flight.
Now I had an evening to spend by myself as a tourist, a rare occurrence in my usually busy schedule.
A colleague had told me that I could go and see the Halloween parade in Shibuya, which over the years had turned into a crazy extravaganza, with thousands of young people crowding the streets around the famous Scramble Crossing. Why not?
As I walked out of the train station, I looked around me surprised by the scale of the event. Once more the Japanese had taken something foreign and turned it into something different.
Young men and women, most of them university students, were having fun. Some wore conventional costumes, others explored the worlds of anime and manga.
Groups of foreigners joined the party, primarily Americans who leaned toward a more orthodox interpretation of the festival, dressed as zombies, witches, vampires, and monsters of various nature.
Besides looking for fun, the Japanese seemed to indulge in a certain taste of exhibitionism.
Across the square, a lovely girl was dressed just in her underwear, showing her curvaceous body; black fishnet stockings arrived up to half her round, shapely thighs. People stopped, took pictures while she smiled in return, striking sexy poses, happy to be noticed; for a moment she flashed a smile to me too. I continued walking, and I bumped into a spidery boy, dressed with a yellow leotard trying to look like Pokémon's Pikachu; but he lacked the cute cuddliness of the anime character. A group of girls dressed like Chinese ghosts, in blue cheongsams, a sheet of paper hanging in front of them, were approached by boys dressed in metal-looking alien suits.
The police presence, standing on elevated platforms, seemed excessive, given the placid, relaxed mood of the crowd. Suddenly a woman in uniform addressed me in Japanese. I looked at her puzzled, and she repeated her sentence to me in broken English.
" Boobs...you wanna touch?"
Maybe she was thinking I was trying to take advantage of the confusion. Of course not! I denied vehemently. She smiled.
"You wanna touch...MY boobs?"
I looked at her better, in disbelief.
She had the dark blue dress of a policewoman, the blue hat of a policewoman. Still, when I looked at her better, I realized that the blouse was open to reveal her generous breasts supported by a white bra that let half of them spill out and that the skirt arrived just below her ass, a white strip of flesh shining before the black stockings started.
I smiled, relieved, and extended my hands to touch her provocative bosom; there was no harm to go with the tide.
She let me do; actually, she seemed to arch her back and push her chest toward me, her long eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. My hands went below the blouse and fully felt the soft, pneumatic mounds, and the thick, hard nipples, expanding below the bra's fabric. It was a moment of strange, dreamlike bliss amid the crowd and noise. Everybody seemed to notice everything, but nobody seemed to care.
Suddenly the policewoman hit my wrists with a rubber pole.
"What are you doing? Hentai(*1)!"
I retracted my grasp and jumped back.
She looked at me, laughing.
"Halloween trick!"
I let the crowd absorb me and sweep me away from that strange experience.
Now I saw another group of boys, dressed like high school girls, their thin, muscular shaved legs showing below their sailor uniform's short skirt. Actual high school girls were waiting in line to snap pictures with them. One girl raised one of the boy's skirts, and the bulge of the penis suddenly showed, folded below the white sheer of a tiny slip. The boy brought a hand to the mouth:" Hazukashii (*2)!" he shouted, and the girls around him laughed happily.
Again I moved away, gently pushed by the people around me. Suddenly I found a kind of remote control in my hand. A boy dressed as a samurai with a blond wig led me to a corner, a bit hidden. A girl was standing, her hands held behind her back by another young man.
I recognized brother and sister from the famous anime Kimetsu no Yaiba - Demon Slayer: the boy was wearing the green and black checkered mantle and a brownish scar on his forehead of Tanjiro, the main character; the girl had in her mouth the bamboo muzzle of Nezuko, his monster sister. She was beautiful, pale, her eyes colored by lenses of a light pink, which gave her an underworldly look expected by a lady demon. Her kimono was a patterned fuchsia with a white a red stash and a black jacket on top.
"You can play with her!" said the boy with me, winking at Tanjiro. I turned on the dial of the remote control slowly, and the girl trembled. It seemed she wanted to say something, but of course, she couldn't.
I continued moving the dial, and her reactions became softer, her eyes misty...I wasn't sure of what I was doing to her; I just guessed. I looked around me but again everybody seemed to be busy with their pursuits. Then the girl seemed to faint, lowered her eyes, and I was sure that she had reached an orgasm, and that I was operating a toy inside her body.
She raised her eyes, filled with tears. For a moment Tanjiro let her move her hands in such a way that she opened her kimono, showing her naked legs, up to the point where the thighs curved, opening up the space where I could see her pussy, covered by thick black hair, and in between the pink tip of the toy stuck inside her. The blond boy took the remote control from my hand and passed to a boy dressed as a baseball player with a rubber mask on his face.
The girl looked at him; she had folded the skirt, like an automaton, and what looked like torture seemed to continue.
Was she a captive? Should I call the police? I thought for a moment at the bosomed police girl...of course, only a foreigner like me could take her for a real one...but then, what could I say to a real one? Hadn't I played with her too?
A small herd of youngsters dressed like SuperMario characters and riding dinosaurs made of foam rubber, passed in front of me and pushed me away. I quickly lost interest in being a hero. I saw an Irish pub on the second floor of a building, and I decided to have a cold beer.
I was reaching for the stairs when a group of girls, dressed like punks, with long black coats, Dr. Martens' boots, and checkered shirts pushed me away.
It was a curious fight: they kept smiling, but at the same time I could feel their muscular thrusts pushing me until I was trapped among them. I tripped and fell on the floor, and all they suddenly were above me, and I couldn't move. People passed by and looked at me, some indifferent, others pointing to the foreign man being the prey of the punk girls.
The girls' hands started moving over me, unbuttoning my shirt, unbuckling my belt, lowering my trousers. Soon my trunks were down too, and one started playing with my cock.
"Hard!" she said in English. "Big!" she added, laughing with her friends.
"Please stop!" I shouted. Bystanders looked toward me with mild interest; a couple of girls dressed like nurses pointed at my erect cock and laughed.
The girl kneeled next to me. She spoke accented but good English.
"Shut up! Time to wear a costume too! You'll be a poor samurai!"
"Why poor?" I asked, suddenly curious.
"Because you can't afford a kimono!" she answered, laughing.
"I'll call the police!" I shouted.
"I am the police!" shouted back a white girl from the crowd, who wore a Police hat and a silver badge; she had long, bare, thin legs white as chalk. She kneeled too next to me, her truncheon playing dangerously with my exposed balls.
"Don't you like to play with young girls, pervert?"
"I am not...ahahah..."
She didn't care to listen to my answer; she stood and, before leaving, hit my scrotum, not with violence, but strong enough to make me cringe.
"Be quiet! It's Halloween...we are just playing. You won't regret it!" whispered the English-speaking punk girl.
"I am Queen...and the others are Countess, Duchess, and Marquise... you'll be Dog, or how we say in Japanese...Inu!"
Queen had her skull half-shaved and sported bright green metallic hair. Below the open shirt, a black camisole left bare the highest part of her flat, tattooed chest.
Countess and Duchess seemed twins, with short hair but a thick fringe that covered the forehead, one red and the other electric blue. They wore ripped pantyhose.
Marquise was the most sophisticated of the group, with long, permed hair, a thick belt around her thin waist, with a skull buckle.
As for me, I was now completely naked; they had taken my socks and shoes too, and I started feeling the cold of the night.
"What are you, a chicken?" commented the girl, noticing my goosebumps.
She showed me a white piece of cloth.
"This is a fundoshi...the only thing a poor samurai like Inu can own and wear!"
I had seen it before in movies and pictures, a loincloth that was the traditional Japanese underwear. Countess placed on my left shoulder, then through my legs covering my cock, pulled up through my butt crack, and then around my waist, securing it with a knot on the back.
"This won't do!" commented Queen, pulling the pubic hair that the fundoshi didn't cover.
It was now of Marquise to show her skills.
Out of nowhere, she pulled out a single-edged razor, and she enjoyed making the blade shine, turning the angle slightly.
"What... is she doing?" I asked, alarmed.
"Don't worry! She'll shave off the excessive hair...just don't move...if you don't want to spill blood..."
I had no alternative but to let Marquise have her way, and indeed, smoothly snd swiftly, she removed not only the hair on my groin but also the higher part of the thighs.
While I was distracted by the razor that danced on my skin, Queen snapped a collar on my neck with a plastic box on it.
"What is this?" I asked while I tried to make sense of its strange shape.
"Well... it's a shock collar... it's helpful to teach obedience and train unruly dogs..."
"I am no dog...aaahhh!"
An electric wave radiated through my neck and killed my words in my mouth.
"You see my point now, isn't it, Inu?"
"Yes..." I answered, meekly.
"Anytime you'll be less than obedient and willing to follow orders, it will be easy to put you in place... I'll hand the remote to Duchess...I assure you that she will be looking for excuses to make you feel pain...."
Duchess looked at me, with an indifferent smirk and smiled at Countess.
"Now...even the poorest samurai wears his chonmage proudly...Countess, go ahead!"
"What's...a chonmage?" I asked, alarmed.
"Well...a samurai's hairstyle!"
I knew that samurais wore a ponytail, but my hair wasn't long enough.
"I don't think that's possible - I commented -...but why the razor?" I asked innocently.
"Countess will have to shave the top of your head, of course!"
"Please! That's too much!"
A very light shock started flowing in my neck.
"Nonsense! "
I hoped that someone would notice my predicament, but everybody was too busy having fun, and in the middle of all the strange disguises and situations, mine didn't alarm anybody.
My final thought was that some guys would happily take my place, a middle-aged man surrounded by quirky but young girls.
Countess started shaving my head.
Inside my head, I was panicking, while the girls were looking at me, amused.
I could feel the blade, first removing lumps of hair, then cleaning my scalp.
