Luke's got this whole university thing figured out - or at least he thinks he does. This isn't your typical college romance where some awkward freshman stumbles through dating mishaps. Nah, Luke's been through this rodeo before, literally. Time loops, resets, whatever you want to call it - he's lived his first year over and over until he's basically gaming the system. Now he's ready for what he calls "Phase Two," which sounds way more strategic than it probably should be for a guy just trying to get laid.

The whole premise is pretty wild when you think about it. Luke's essentially become a relationship speedrunner, knowing exactly which buttons to push with each girl. There's this maid cafe setup that becomes central to everything - because of course there is. The game throws you into managing relationships with different girls who each have their own specific kinks and fetishes. One minute you're dealing with some vanilla romance situation, next thing you know you're deep in BDSM territory or watching some serious NTR unfold. The variety is honestly overwhelming sometimes. You've got your classic anime parody characters mixed in too - I spotted what looked like Nico Robin and Boa Hancock variants, which feels both nostalgic and weird at the same time.

What gets me is how the game handles the whole "perfect base" concept Luke keeps talking about. It's like he's treating relationships like some kind of RPG stat management, which... honestly isn't that far from reality if we're being real here. The turn-based combat elements feel randomly thrown in, but somehow work with the overall simulator vibe. There's phone interactions, dating mechanics, and this whole corruption progression system that gets pretty intense. The multiple endings thing means you're constantly second-guessing your choices, wondering if you're optimizing for the right fetish path or missing out on some kinky scenario. Luke might have his advantage, but navigating all these relationship dynamics still feels like controlled chaos.

This one feels like someone took a comfy slice‑of‑life drama, locked it in a room, fed it way too much dessert, tied it up with a bunch of horny ideas about control, and then just let it slowly swell until nobody fits their old clothes anymore. You’re not just clicking through porn scenes here, you’re basically sliding into people’s lives and messing with the one thing they’re trying to keep steady: food, routine, and how much space their bodies are taking up. Girls start out “normal” chubby, then your choices quietly push them toward soft bellies, thicker thighs, boobs pressing against uniforms that really need new sizes. It’s not a sudden cartoon inflation, more like, one more snack, one more late-night delivery, one more “you look fine, trust me”, and you blink and go, ok, she actually grew a lot. The game leans hard into that mix of comfort and shame: they talk about being tired, about stress, about wanting to feel wanted, and you’re there like the little devil on their shoulder, handing them another plate and acting like it’s totally no big deal.

What makes it hit different is how slow and personal it feels. Conversations drag you in, they’re not just “click to fuck”. You’re asking about their day, about work, about why they always order the same greasy thing from that food app even when they swear they’re going to “eat better”. Then, little by little, they start trusting you. Letting you decide what they eat, how much, when they skip the gym. Sometimes it’s honestly sweet: you comfort a stressed girl with a big meal and she melts a bit, leans on you, tummy peeking when she slumps on the couch. Other times it’s darker, like when you nudge someone past the point she’s comfortable with and she still says yes because you’re the one paying attention to her. The control side sneaks in there: you choosing her portions, you telling her she looks beautiful tied to a chair, arms behind her, cheeks full of cake, belly pushing out, and she’s half embarrassed, half turned on. There is a harem structure going on, but it never feels like some clean checklist. It’s messy, like juggling chats, trying not to mix up who likes being praised for getting thicker and who is still pretending this is “temporary stress weight” while you’re literally the one making sure it isn’t. At some point you realize you’re basically running a quiet little cult of comfort eating and pretty captives, and the wild part is how normal it all felt on the way there.

Ellie from that zombie game and Lara from those old temple raider days stuck together in one filthy, horny mess is already kind of illegal, but the way this thing uses their feet is what actually surprised me. It starts almost innocent, like some weird fanfic fantasy where a regular dude ends up with both of them under his control, and you think “ok ok, just another basic porn parody”. Then you realize the whole focus is on socks and how much abuse you can squeeze out of a single sweaty foot. The game treats socks like gear, like actual tools for humiliation, not just decoration. You’re pulling Ellie’s dirty socks off slow while she glares at you, toes curling, and Lara is in the background with those tight sport socks still on, being forced to stroke you off with them while acting all proud and pissed at the same time. It’s fucked up and kind of funny.

What I liked is how often it lets you push them from “annoyed” into “broken-in toy” during actual sex, not just in some text box. One scene that stuck with me: you’ve already used Ellie’s feet, made her rub you until she’s breathing hard and confused, and instead of jumping straight to normal penetration, you pin her down in missionary, keep her ankles pressed against your shoulders, and the camera keeps cutting back to her soles. Not her face, not your dick, just those feet twitching while you slam into her. Meanwhile Lara is ordered to kneel at the side, licking your balls like some obedient slave, still wearing one sock, and that stupid detail somehow makes it nastier. Then later you flip Lara into doggystyle, really rough, hair pulled, face pushed down, and she’s forced to rub you with her feet between thrusts, basically getting used like a multi tool. It’s actually a bit much when you chain everything together: harassment, domination, rough fucking, feet in your face, them gagging on you, and you keep going anyway because the game kind of encourages you to be a selfish bastard. At some point I realized the male protagonist doesn’t even feel like a “character”, he’s more like a cock with dialogue, but in this type of hardcore crossover it weirdly fits. The AI-generated CG sometimes looks slightly off, like Ellie’s toes bending wrong or Lara’s expression clipping into weird “half angry half bored” mode, yet those little imperfections give the scenes this trashy bootleg energy that matches the whole vibe. You’re not here for romance, or plot, or to be a good person. You’re here to grab two famous girls by the throat, use their mouths, their pussies, their asses, and especially their socks and feet, and then pretend later it was “just parody” when you close the tab.

You start as this kinda broke, half‑sleeping journalism student who thinks he’s just chasing some dumb campus rumor, and then suddenly you’re knee‑deep in a blackmail mess where everyone’s horny, half‑guilty and way too hot to be real. It feels like opening a boring Google Doc for class and finding porn screenshots hidden between the paragraphs. One minute you’re asking normal interview questions, next minute a girl is “accidentally” spreading her legs in the library while pretending not to notice, and you’re choosing whether to keep it cool or lean into the pervy energy. The whole thing plays like a dating sim that got drunk and fell into a fetish forum. You bounce around the campus, coffee shop, staff rooms and weird quiet corners in this sandbox routine, chasing leads, sending risky messages, and trying not to jerk off every time the game tosses in a new explicit CG that looks a little too much like something generated at 3x strength on some AI art app.

The four main girls each pull you in a different way, and they’re messy in a very human way. Rina hits you with that “I don’t care about you, idiot” tsundere act, then five clicks later she’s pressing you against a wall and daring you to look her in the eyes while she strokes you off in some half‑lit corridor where anyone could walk in. She calls you a pervert while blushing hard, and then later blackmails you with your own dick pics you stupidly left in chat. Kira is the brainy one, all logic and spreadsheets, helping you track victims and suspects like she’s building a case file in Notion, but her mouth says “professional partner” while her hands wander under the desk, slipping into your pants mid‑conversation about motives. She’ll break down a pattern in the blackmail messages, then casually ask if you’ve ever let a futa girl use your throat like a toy. Sofie at the coffee shop is that chaotic energy. She flirts for tips, remembers your order, and suddenly you’re in the storage room with your pants around your ankles, her tongue sliding slow while she jokes about giving “premium customer service.” She’ll send you a selfie later, bra pushed up, asking if you’re masturbating to it right now. And Mila, the teacher, has that dangerous vibe: soft voice, strict eyes, and this way of stepping way too close when she’s “interrogating” you about the case. Half the time she looks like she wants to fail you; the other half she looks like she wants to bend you over her desk and see how good you scream when she doesn’t let you finish.

What surprised me is how the humor and the dirty stuff keep tripping over each other. One scene you’re grilling a suspect about anonymous blackmail texts, and the next scene you’re helping a girl compose her own anonymous message that’s literally just her teasing she’s not wearing panties in the classroom. There’s this whole exhibition streak running through it: girls flashing you in public spaces, blowjobs in risky corners, forcing you to keep your voice down while they ride you in a room that’s way too close to other people. Some of the AI‑generated CGs look wild, like the hands are a bit cursed or a boob’s angle is kinda off, and I liked it more because of that. It feels raw, like a horny sketchbook, not some polished corporate porn. You’re constantly choosing whether to be sweet, manipulative, romantic, or just absolutely filthy. Sometimes your “good guy” answer somehow leads to even kinkier payoff, which is funny and a bit fucked up. You can go from awkward first kiss to swallowing cum in a bathroom stall in like ten clicks, then sit in your dorm later staring at your in‑game phone, wondering if you should send that risky text that might turn into blackmail power over her or backfire and put your nudes in someone else’s hands. The game doesn’t really care if you play lover, perv, or amateur detective; it just keeps tossing situations where romance, threats, and sex tangle together until you forget if you’re solving the case or just using it as excuse to watch beautiful disasters of girls fall apart on your dick in every wrong place possible.

Foggy forest, quiet as hell, and you’re lost with a hard-on you don’t want to admit you have. That’s pretty much the mood here. The trees feel wrong in that fairy-tale way, like they’re watching, but not in a horror movie thing, more like they’re just waiting for you to do something stupid and horny. Then this witch shows up, and she doesn’t look like the usual “I cast fireball” witch. She’s got that lazy smile that says she already knows what you’re going to click, and she smells like a toy store mixed with a bath bomb shop. Latex, sugar, soap, that weird clean-but-not-innocent vibe. The game doesn’t rush to shout what you’re in for, but yeah, if you’re into inflatables and transformation and that floaty, rubbery ownership of a body that stops being flesh and turns into a damn balloon, it hits that itch pretty directly.

The cool part is how low-key everything starts. It’s just you poking around her little forest corner, clicking stuff, poking at bottles, weird trinkets, that sort of thing. Half of it feels like background junk until you notice something reacts if you try again, or if you did another scene before. There was this moment where I accidentally triggered a change too early, and my character’s body started filling out, tight and squeaky, and I actually paused, staring at my screen like, “ok, I did not expect it to jump to that this fast.” The game is short, yeah, but it doesn’t waste your kinks. The inflation is not just “you get bigger.” It’s that slow, pressurised feeling in the text and art, the witch teasing you, almost casual about turning your body into her private float, testing how much air or magic you can hold. She treats the whole thing like a cozy craft project, while you’re the one struggling with how round you’re getting. It’s a weird mix of mystery and fetish, and I like that it doesn’t apologize for it even once. You’re not playing a hero, you’re playing a future decoration, and she knows it way before you do.

The forest itself is small, but it feels like one of those “hidden room” games where there’s always one last strange item you haven’t clicked in the right order. I spent way too long clicking the same damn stump because I was convinced it had a secret, and honestly I’m still annoyed it didn’t. But while I was being stubborn, I kept noticing little reactions: the witch’s comments changing, the way she hints at other “guests” she inflated before, maybe still around, maybe not in the shape you expect. There’s magic everywhere, but it’s that squishy, rubber-magic. You’re not slinging spells; you’re more like the spell result. A toy, a trophy, an experiment. The furry angle sneaks in too, with those hints that your body isn’t only filling with air, it’s shifting into something cutesy, animal-ish, then more object than creature. Ears, tail, then plastic sheen, then hollow. It’s honestly hot as hell if you’re into losing control and becoming a thing instead of a person. And the best part, or the worst, depending on your brain, is that the witch never seems cruel. She’s playful, almost seasonal, like some twisted holiday hostess inviting you to become part of the decorations, tucked between the trees, gleaming under moonlight, filled tight and waiting. You kind of know from the beginning this forest is not a place you walk out of on your own feet. You’re rolling, floating, squeaking your way out, if you leave at all.

Ben is supposed to be the lucky survivor kid that comes back home after being gone, but honestly he feels more like a loaded gun somebody forgot on the kitchen table. He crashes on this messed up magic island, gets picked up by a witch doctor who treats “therapy” like torture mixed with sex education and combat drills, then strolls back into normal suburb house life pretending he doesn’t remember shit. Not because he actually forgot, but because that island is basically a pornified god glitch with monsters, spirit bullshit, and power that turns people crazy. So he fakes amnesia, does the polite traumatized boy act, and then the game quietly starts poking at every line you thought it would respect.

The house is where it really hits. Rachel as adoptive mom is that slow-burn headache. She’s warm, too warm, leans in too close, touches his arm too long, falls asleep on the couch in those thin shorts like she forgot he’s not twelve anymore. The game loves to push Ben into those micro moments. You’re standing behind her in the kitchen, watching her reach for something high, shirt riding up, and the UI is asking if you heal her old injury with magic or “accidentally” brush your hand where you shouldn’t. It’s not nice, it’s not healthy, it’s fucking hot. And then it slaps mental health in your face by having Ben wake up sweaty, hearing island drums in his head like a PTSD ringtone while he’s half hard from dreaming about her. Jessica is different chaos. She’s the “normal” one who isn’t normal at all, always teasing, sitting with her legs open just enough to notice, sending you those Instagram thirst traps from the next room like it’s a joke. There’s this one scene where she drags you to her room “to help with homework” and suddenly the camera angle is all about that barely covered ass while she bends over the bed. You can play innocent, you can peek, or you can use a tiny twist of mind control to make her forget how long your eyes stayed there. That little power turns every simple walk through the hallway into a corruption puzzle.

What really fucked with me is how the game keeps pretending it’s about “protecting the world” while letting you slowly rot from the inside. The witch doctor’s voice pops in sometimes, like an evil conscience, reminding you that sex can be a ritual, that feeding your urges might actually make your magic stronger. Then you get scenes with monsters that are less “fight or flight” and more “fight or fuck” and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re the hero or just a horny shaman with mommy issues. There’s a combat bit in the alley at night, where some paranormal creep tries to blackmail you after catching you watching your neighbors through the window. You can blast him with elemental magic, or twist his mind till he thinks he’s the pervert who started it and you walk away clean. That mixture of voyeurism, blackmail, and power fantasy hits different when Ben is smiling softly while lying to everyone, including himself. Zara shows up like the hot demon guidance counselor, offering “help” with his blocked memories and then sliding her hand down his chest as she describes the island tearing reality open. She wants the secrets, the rifts, the raw corruption, and she’s ready to spread her legs or someone else’s to get it. Group scenes feel like rituals gone wrong. People are moaning, bodies tangled, and in the background there’s this feeling that something is watching, that the island is feeding off all that sex. One moment you’re in a tender almost-romance with Rachel on the sofa, her head on your shoulder, the next you’re knee-deep in a magical gangbang that might literally open a portal. The story acts like it cares about Ben’s guilt and mental state, then hands you a teasing choice like “comfort her” or “possess her mind for a while” and both options feel right for different disgusting reasons. Watching him flirt between sweet, scared boy and cold, dominant bastard made me feel like I was doing character research and jacking off at the same time, which is exactly as fucked up as it sounds.

Snow on the window, porn on the browser. Priority is clear. This game drops you right in that weird moment after uni when you’re technically adult but still feel like a horny dumbass who has no clue what to do with life. You’re broke, alone in your flat, scrolling way too long, then suddenly you’re in this city where every “job opportunity” slowly turns into some kinky bullshit that somehow makes too much sense. One night you’re bussing tables as a new waiter, trying not to stare at bouncing tits under tight tops, next night you’re half naked in a VIP corner of a night club, getting your ego crushed by a girl in heels who talks to you like you’re her property. And you kind of like it. The game doesn’t pretend to be deep, but it does this thing where each girl you meet pushes you a little bit more, like a slow transformation that sneaks up on you. One route you start trying to “impress” a dominant mistress at the gym, thinking you just want to see her sweaty curves on the leg press, and suddenly you’re on your knees next to the benches, getting a casual handjob as “reward” while she laughs at how fast you cum. Another route you’re in a cramped back room of a club, soft music, neon lights, her riding your face while using you as a chair, with your dick mashed between your thighs because she said “good boys don’t get hard without permission”. It’s rough, humiliating, strangely cozy. Like Christmas with abuse, in a hot way.

What really hits is how the game uses gifs and photos instead of just walls of text. Scenes feel more alive, like your WhatsApp porn folder finally grew a story around it. One moment you’re getting a sloppy blowjob in a bathroom stall, the next she pushes you back and lines you up for anal, pushing a toy in your mouth so you shut up about it hurting. There’s titfucks with lube dripping everywhere, pussy close-ups while she grinds on you slowly, and that awkward-but-hot feeling when she wipes your own cum on your chest and calls you her filthy little project. Sometimes the pacing is weird, like you go from casual chatting about work to her pegging you in what feels like five clicks, but honestly that chaos kinda works because life doesn’t give you clean routes either. I do wish the waitress shifts had more build up before turning into fetish playground, but then again, I clicked through half the dialogue just to reach the next humiliation scene, so maybe it’s on me. The male protagonist reacts like a real confused dude too: horny, insecure, pretending he’s in control while obviously not. That mix of domination, teasing, and “you’ll do what I say or you don’t get to cum tonight” is everywhere. And yeah, sometimes a scene will just end right when you’re about to blow, like the game cockblocks you on purpose, cuts to another girl, another fetish, another way to break you a little more. I closed the tab once, swore I was done, then opened it again to see how far one mistress would go if I kept saying “yes”.

She went pretty far.

You’re 21, fresh out of uni, brain full of half-broken dreams and porn tabs, alone in a tiny place that looks more like a temporary save file than a real home. No job, no plan, no clue. Just a bed, a phone, and this weird feeling that whatever girl walks through your life next is basically a glitch in the code that will push you in some fucked up direction forever. This game leans hard into that idea. It isn’t trying to be “romantic” in the vanilla Netflix way. It feels more like fate dragging you by the collar through kinks you never admitted out loud, while you keep telling yourself “yeah, I can stop anytime” and then obviously you don’t. You start as this regular, kinda lost guy, but the story quietly puts you in spots where you’re kneeling, begging, turned on, confused, all of it layered, like when you’re scrolling Pornhub and suddenly your recommended list is just one big accusation.

The girls are not just checklists of tags, they’re like different corrupt routes for your soul. Tangent shows up like a walking red flag, the kind of woman you’d swear you should avoid, and then you end up refreshing Telegram waiting for her next message anyway. She treats you like a toy she already owns, plays with your ego, talks down to you while she has you licking her clean after she uses your face, or makes you hold still while she rides your cock and casually insults how pathetic you look. One moment she gives you a handjob so slow you want to scream, staring right in your eyes like she can read every dirty thought, then next scene she has a plug in your ass and your dick throbbing untouched, calling it “training” like this is some sacred destiny instead of her just having fun. Humiliation here isn’t just chat text, it’s in tiny moments, like her making you thank her for letting you cum, right after she slapped you for asking. And yeah, there’s titjobs and oral and all the classic stuff, but the way she paces it, like she’s tuning your brain, makes it feel less like porn and more like a long, slow hack of your identity.

Then the story swerves. Penny slides in from a totally different angle, all soft colors and weird comfort, like those TikToks that look wholesome until you read the comments. The tone drops into this messed up “innocent” vibe that obviously isn’t innocent, and suddenly sex toys feel more like props in a role you’re not sure you chose. You’re supposed to be the adult, but scenes twist it so you’re the one who needs control taken away, who gets told what to wear, when to touch yourself, when not to. There’s this one part where you finish in a way that should feel normal, just basic vaginal sex, thrusting, her moaning in your ear, your hands on her hips, and then the aftermath turns it sideways with one line of dialogue that makes you realize you’re not the one writing your own story at all. Natalie isn’t any softer. She just attacks your gender, your pride, your whole idea of “what kind of man I am” and pokes it until it bends. She might start with a blowjob that feels like a reward, sloppy, spit running down your shaft, eye contact that burns, then a few scenes later she’s got you dressed up, sitting pretty, dick hard and useless, while she teases you with a vibrator and jokes about how you were never much of a “real guy” anyway. The thing with this game is that every route pretends it’s just a bit of kinky fun, but then you look back and realize each girl quietly edited a part of you, like fate didn’t give you choices, only different flavors of surrender.

You roll into VAM City thinking it’s going to be normal college life, maybe cheap coffee and boring lectures, but the whole place feels like it was designed by a horny psychologist who hates your dignity. Classes are almost background noise here. The real “curriculum” happens in the hospital corridors, the park at night, that too-clean café where the waitresses smile a bit too long, and of course the campus itself where every professor and senior seems to know you’re easy to fluster. The game throws you in as this kind of clueless male protagonist who thinks it’s a simple dating sim, then suddenly you’re kneeling in a nurse’s office, trying to keep eye contact while she taps a clipboard against your cheek like you’re a misbehaving pet. There’s humor in how shameless it all is. One moment a girl with a ridiculous ass is leaning over a vending machine “by accident,” next moment you get caught staring and she offers you a deal: do a few humiliating “favors” and maybe she lets you get a closer look next time. Or not. She might just laugh with her friend about how red your face gets.

The whole thing is sandboxy enough that you kind of wander around VAM City, picking where to waste your time and dignity. You hang at the park pretending you’re out for fresh air, but the game knows you’re actually hoping that strict college girl shows up to walk her dog again so she can order you to pick up after it “since you like watching so much.” At the café you get stuck wiping tables while a busty barista leans down to “check your work,” her tits almost in your face while she insults your cleaning skills and your stamina in the same breath. There’s this breaking of your ego that is somehow playful and cruel at the same time. They joke, they humiliate, they make you pay coins you barely have just to buy them something stupid like a milkshake or a new collar for their cat, and you do it, because the promise of a short animation of her grinding on your lap or choking you with a forced blowjob is just barely enough to keep you chasing. Some scenes lean pretty hard into voyeur stuff too. You peek through a classroom door, thinking you’ll see something soft and romantic, but it’s actually a teacher punishing another guy, slapping his face, making him lick her heel while you watch and pray she doesn’t notice you. Later she does notice you, of course, in the hospital of all places, when you go for a “routine check,” and suddenly her exam feels more like an interrogation mixed with a dom session. There’s a weird charm in how unpolished the whole city feels, like everybody is improvising their fetishes on the spot. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s hot as hell, sometimes you just end up standing in the wrong corridor thinking, “why am I being forced to wear a girl’s panties under my uniform just so I can join a study group?” but you still click yes and keep going, because VAM City doesn’t really ask for your pride, it just assumes it already owns it.