Hopping off at various stations dotted around Tokyo, it felt like I kept seeing the same jerk hanging off a clock. He’d almost always be close by, showing total disregard for the fine craftsmanship of precision timing.
“Is that fuckin’ Milton?” I thought to myself, incorrectly remembering the game Milon’s Secret Castle. No matter. He was Milton now (and forever), the little-known evil brother. Although actually putting together this comparison image a week or so later… I may have been drunk at the time.
Man I swear to god Milton, you’re going to breaking those hands off and hurt someone one of these days.
However aside from the completely irrational – borderline mental breakdown – anger that boiled within from such a seemingly simple cartoon character, I never paid much attention to what these establishments were. For a while. Until I saw the ‘adults only’ signs, the promise of ‘relaxation’ and more importantly, some just had posters of tits and onaholes out the front.
Then I remembered Sven over at @NipponSexToys had mentioned a place like this, and I was keeeen. This is ‘Takarajima 24’, a chain of internet cafes where you can feel right at home – hunched over in a confined space with your pants and the lights both off.
So, the idea is everyone gets to rent their own little private room. There are a lot of them. All equipped with a computer and big-ass TV, you can choose what kind of seating arrangement you’d like (reclining chair, massage chair, reclining mat, cabin room or just a plain old mat) and how long you want to stay.
There’s the (assumingly) popular one-hour limit, right up to twelve hours. These places are usually riiiight next to a train station, which is perfect for anyone who misses the last train home and needs somewhere to sleep – and masturbate – for the night on a budget. ‘Night courses’ run from 10pm to 10am for just 2,100 yen. That one hour option? Yeah, 550 yen. I went for that.
Entering through the heavily tinted sliding doo-oooOOOH OKAY PORN.
Rows and rows of it. Shit’s everywhere. Well, not really. There was just a single row for scat. But wow, so many shelves stacked high with DVDs as soon as you enter. Some were normal movies or TV series, but they were sandwiched between heavily pixellated bukkake boxart and friends.
Takarajima 24’s got you covered no matter what. They had DVDs for fetishes I didn’t even know existed, like women coated in gold body paint. As in… there were multiple releases for that. Living statues or something?
And as much as I wanted to show my enthusiasm at this vast bounty and punch Milton in the balls, I soon found myself awkwardly shuffling past other guys meticulously combing through discs, occasionally glancing up as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ with their eyeballs and flared nostrils. Sorry man, I didn’t know the office-lady-femdom-facesitting-on-the-moon section was your turf. I don’t want any trouble.
Ended up grabbing a fairly generic looking lesbian DVD and headed for the ticket machine. No matter how long you stay at Takarajima 24, you’re entitled to borrow up to I think… five (?) movies or comics at any given time. Once you’re done, bring ’em back to the counter and grab something different. If a DVD doesn’t have a yellow ‘OK’ tag on it (seen above), that means someone else is currently wanking all over it.
After throwing some yens into the machine, I took my ticket to the counter and very few words were exchanged with the employee, who sat behind a roller shutter shrouded in darkness. He was basically a pair of floating hands as far as I could tell. Fox only. Final destination.
He handed over a basket full of stuff, pointed at a door to the lower level and said “room 109, be back in an hour”. That was it. Neat!
It was really quiet down here, which I was thankful for, but also kind of spooky. Especially as I’d just come from a room blaring like seven different pornos over the sound system simultaneously.
Opening the door to my personal room™… welp. It was sorta cramped. Sorta real cramped. This shot was taken right from the doorway.
In retrospect I wish I’d chosen the massage chair at least; this was just a reclining one. I think I panicked when the guy asked what room I wanted, and pointed at the first option. I just wanted to look cool in front of the elderly gentlemen wearing trench coats.
Those are some serious ass prints, jesus. Just thinking of how many sweaty, hairy butts have sat in this thing and dribbled cum all over it got me looking at my watch to see how much time had passed. Not an hour yet? Damn.
Alright though, let’s take a look at what we’ve got here.
There’s the computer for serious xHamster internet browsing, with multiple USB slots if you want to go on a download frenzy (lighting fast internet!) The DVD player was next to it, and a large HDTV above.
On the wall was a list of things you could order to the room. Reasonably priced snacks and drinks, and a shitload of onaholes. JOKE GOODS. The cheapest option was a 200 yen foam cup, then everything else – from disposable Tenga cups to proper shitty looking reusable holes – was 1,000 yen a pop (about $10).
I wonder if they’re trying to tell people to use a tissue when handling the sacred ‘joke good’ telephone.
That’s the room then. It has everything I need to masturbate in it (my penis, haha s-JOKE GOODS). I plopped my basket and bag down, took off my shoes and pants… yep, yep. Let’s see what we’ve got here.
Wireless headphones to keep all the exciting noise to yourself, the DVD, three individually wrapped moist towelettes straight from Colonel Sanders, and…
… a condom? Alrighty! I’m not sure of the exact rules for Takarajima 24 – perhaps you’re allowed to bring someone else into your room. First date and all.
Or maybe it’s to prevent the onahole from tearing off your skin. The Himapara Young, huh. This is a ‘Takarajima original’, so you know it’ll be good. The best part is I absolutely expected the bonus onahole to just be a fucking foam cup. Still! Sometimes they’re kind of bearable.
I put the disc in, skipped past the first fifteen minutes or so where everyone was just talking into the camera and occasionally lifting their skirt to have a giggle. “Check out my joke goods, Milton-san” she whispered. “NO” he boomed. “IT’S TIIIIIIME”. Suddenly the camera falls to the ground and you see Milton hanging off a wall clock in the background.
Ah, right. That extreme censorship. So hot! At least it worked here, as I imagine a heavily jagged vagina would almost be on par with this coarse, compacted foam fun-time.
Honestly, Himapara Young wasn’t that bad. It came pre-lubed, and they’d made sure to absolutely drown the thing which meant uh, masturbation was incredibly sloppy. Even despite taking it slow because I didn’t want the cup to fall apart and go everywhere. But with that out of the way, now what? Just chuck this mess in the trash as it is? I guess.
So then I took a proper look at the bin, and it changed everything. ‘Would you like to review what your life should be…?’ it asked, as I carefully held a slippery deformed cup filled with my sperm in a depressingly dark and tiny room whilst on holiday overseas.
“This is exactly what I’ve wanted to do with my life, THANKS TRASH!” My existence now verified, the foam cup hit the bottom with a squelch.
After that I tried to browse the internet for a bit, but this setup really isn’t too comfortable unless you’re laying back in the chair. And that doesn’t quite work with the keyboard and mouse tethered so close to the computer. Stuff it; just chilled out for a bit on my phone. With about 20 minutes still left on the clock, I decided to pack up my junk and go have a look around in search of a toilet.
IT WAS FULL OF ONAHOLES.
Handy if you’re too shy to order anything from the joke goods line, I suppose. Or if you just want to get stuck into a toy on the can. Multitasking and all.
By the way, that blue prepaid card (at a whopping 3,000 yen) is so you can talk to this girl right here. On the back of the bathroom door.
Maybe she tells good jokes about joke goods while sensually describing her eternal quest to locate clothing and check if her vagina is still there every now and then. “Hang on, yes, phew. Good, where were we?”
Overall though, yep. Wandering into Takarajima 24 is okay if you want to masturbate in the comfort of not-your-own-home to a wide variety of DVDs that you wouldn’t be caught dead actually owning. Like [insert popular mainstream movie for edgy points here].
If your purpose is to actually get some work done though – or even have a nap – then eeehh. Just don’t think too hard about how much jizz is likely encrusted on every single surface of the establishment.
“What if this whole bathroom is actually just dried sperm”.
This was an amusing little experience though, so thanks again to Sven for mentioning it! I wouldn’t have bothered without the onahole aspect.
MILTOOOOOON! TELL BART TO COME HOME.