Isekai Brothel feels like someone cracked open my anime watchlist, dumped it on the bed, and said, “Ok, pick who you wanna fuck first.” It’s a dating sim wrapped around a brothel idea, but not the usual boring “pick one route, marry waifu, roll credits”. Here you jump between worlds and timelines, grab girls from different series, and basically run this horny multiverse where fidelity is a suggestion, not a rule. As a poly person this hits weirdly close to my fantasy: not needing to “pick best girl”, just stacking them like a chaotic harem Jenga tower and seeing what breaks first, your dick or your free time. And yeah, it’s messy. The art style and scenes don’t always match perfectly between girls, the transitions sometimes feel like someone hit the skip button too fast, but honestly that fits the vibe. It feels like a porn stash, not a museum.

What I liked a lot is how it leans hard into the “brothel” part without pretending to be moral about it. You flirt, you pay, you fuck. Sometimes you date first, sometimes you go straight to raw dog in a rented room. One moment I was having a kinda sweet “date” with a shy girl, choosing dialog options that made her open up, and then suddenly I was balls-deep while she begged me not to pull out. The jump from wholesome to filthy is fast and I actually enjoy that whiplash. There are quick sex scenes for when you just want a 2-minute stress relief, and longer dates where you build some tension before ruining her makeup. The game throws in fetishes pretty casually, like, “Oh, you clicked this girl again? Guess we’re doing anal now” and doesn’t over-explain anything. It trusts that if you’re on an adult site and recognize half these characters, you already know what you’re here for. One tiny thing that annoyed me: sometimes dialog sounds like it was translated twice through Google, then drunk-edited, but honestly I still liked that more than fake polished porn writing that nobody talks like.

The multiverse teleport tech is a cool excuse for why everyone is in one place, but the real fun is when you start mentally mixing “lore” from different shows while you’re mid-thrust. I was fucking a certain very proud, very stacked demon girl while thinking “if her boss from that other universe walked in right now, he’d probably applaud.” Then I switched to a sweet healer-type girl and went from rough choking and hair pulling to soft missionary and kissing like some kind of emotional whiplash speedrun. The game doesn’t punish you for jumping from girl to girl; it almost encourages it, like “you liked that dommy mommy? Nice, go cuddle the awkward schoolgirl now, coward.” It’s not trying to be classy, and I appreciate that a lot. Sex here can be romantic, sure, but it can also be just sloppy blowjob in a side room while other clients are busy in the back. I kinda wish there were more scenes where the girls interact with each other and not only with you, like full-on group sessions that acknowledge relationships between them, but at the same time I like the feeling that I’m sneaking from room to room, collecting different bodies and personalities like a horny little goblin. The whole thing feels like a guilty browser tab you forget to close, which is exactly how this kind of game should feel.

I didn’t expect to laugh this much while, you know, also being wildly turned on. *Furry Bang Town* sounds like some cheap meme bait, but halfway through the first date scene with that smug wolf barista (he keeps pretending he’s bored while his tail literally wags), I realized this game knows exactly what it’s doing. There’s this weird mix of parody and genuine horniness - it flirts with irony but still goes all in when things get wet. The humor hits that awkward space where you don’t know if you’re supposed to cringe or moan. And the writing? Kind of broken in places, but in a way that feels like someone poured their kinks into Google Translate and said, “good enough.” It works. Too well maybe.

I keep thinking about Judy - not the movie one, but the version here who’s somehow both a cop and a futa stripper on weekends. Her route wrecked me; she teases like she’s reading your mind, then there’s this beach scene where she just drops the uniform and starts talking about “justice” while grinding against your thigh. It’s ridiculous. I almost closed the tab, but the sound design pulled me back - heavy breathing layered with seagulls and waves, absurdly effective. Then suddenly, boom, Pokémon crossover out of nowhere. A Lucario bartender offering “protein shots.” I wanted to roll my eyes, but I was already clicking through dialogue faster than I’d like to admit.

The public use scenes are messy in every sense - crowded cafe bathrooms, fur everywhere, people pretending not to watch. It’s filthy, kind of funny, and weirdly intimate. I hated that it made me feel something beyond just arousal. Also, the ending just stops mid-sentence, like the dev gave up or came too early. Still, I can’t stop thinking about that line where the pony character whispers, “You smell like story.” What does that even mean? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I’m probably overthinking it, but whatever - this game got under my skin in ways it really shouldn’t have.

On the cusp of his tenth birthday, Omni, a young boy brimming with excitement, eagerly anticipated the commencement of his Pokémon adventure. However, fate had a cruel twist in store for him. As the sun peeked over the horizon, casting an ethereal glow upon the slumbering town, Omni succumbed to the allure of Morpheus' embrace, oversleeping on the most pivotal day of his life. By the time he groggily stumbled out of bed, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration, he realized with dismay that he was woefully behind schedule. Desperation propelled him towards Professor Oak's laboratory, the epicenter of all Pokémon aspirations. However, upon arriving at the hallowed halls of the professor's abode, Omni was met with a sight that sent shivers down his spine.

The lab was eerily silent, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle. Pokéballs sat untouched on dusty shelves, and notes fluttered neglected on cluttered desks. Omni’s breath caught as he noticed a cryptic message scrawled hastily on the whiteboard - an urgent call to action. With trembling hands, he realized his journey wouldn't be the simple adventure he’d imagined, but a wild, dangerous chase against time and unseen foes.

Now, every step Omni takes drags him deeper into a world where trust is scarce and danger lurks behind every corner. Ready or not, his Pokémon journey has twisted into something raw and unpredictable, daring you to dive right in.

Dive into Omni's fractured world and carve your own legend from the chaos. The clock is ticking. Are you ready to face what lies beyond the familiar? Start playing now.

Can’t lie, I clicked expecting another copy-paste anime mashup with the usual stiff models and dead-eyed moans, but this one hits different. There’s a sadness under all that skin, like someone coded their fantasies too carefully, you know? I found myself staring at Raven’s face - Batman’s Raven - and thinking, “she shouldn’t be looking at me like that,” while still dragging her into position anyway. Unreal how fast guilt turns into hunger when the animation breathes just right. And maybe it’s because of the Illusion engine doing its sneaky physics thing, or maybe because the transitions are almost clumsy, like real people fumbling with clothes and patience. It’s messy, which makes it hot.

The scenes jump from universes without pretending to make sense. One second I’m in some broken-down Capsule Corp lab, Bulma smirking like she *planned* to get caught; next, Yoruichi’s toes press against my chest, laughing, telling me to look up. I did. Of course I did. The voyeur mode feels wrong in the best possible way - it doesn’t even give you fake morality options, just lets you watch. But then again, maybe that’s lazy design. Or genius. Hard to tell when your brain’s half-melted. The weird part? The sound mix changes depending on position, so D.Va sounds distant if she turns away. I swear no one ever gets audio that intimate, not even those overpriced VR patches on Steam.

Anyway, I could say it’s perfect, but I won’t. Some things twitch too mechanically - the faces sometimes freeze mid-expression, like they remember they’re code. Yet that’s also the charm. You see the seams, and you keep touching them. Like rubbing a wound for pleasure. Half the cast shouldn’t exist in the same space - Orihime beside Tifa beside Samus - but here they crowd my screen like they’ve been waiting forever. Maybe that’s why it works: it’s absurd, obscene, familiar, and somehow lonelier than expected. I closed the browser and immediately reopened it. Couldn’t help it.