Lydia looks like that girl professors quote as an example when they want to guilt the whole class. Star student, polite, skirt the exact length the handbook wants, always with some heavy textbook clutched to her chest. First few scenes really sell that fake safe little routine: campus courtyard, library, neat dorm room with color-coded notes, her phone buzzing with reminders instead of horny texts. You can almost smell the stress sweat on her, and it’s not even sexual yet, just that tight feeling in the throat when you know one mistake will fuck up more than just your GPA.

Then the screw up hits. The game doesn’t treat it like some huge surprise twist, more like a slow, ugly slide. One bad choice, one bit of proof in the wrong hands, and suddenly this guy has her by the throat without touching her. That first blackmail scene in the empty classroom is weirdly quiet. No dramatic music, just her in that spotless school uniform, legs clenched, trying to stand straight while he leans way too close and explains how deep he can bury her if she doesn’t play along. There is no “are you sure” button. The novel just keeps going, and you are dragged with her.

What hits hard is how the sex starts small and mean instead of epic. A forced handjob under a desk while another girl presents at the front of the room, his dick pressed in her hand, her face a frozen mask. A “study session” that turns into him groping her tits while she tries to finish a worksheet, his fingers digging into soft flesh, thumb circling her nipple through the bra until she gasps and then he mocks her for it. Her first time is not candles and romance, it is him pushing her down on the cheap dorm bed, one knee between her thighs while she keeps whispering that this isn’t what she wants, and he reminds her of those screenshots. The camera loves her ass and tits, but it never lets you forget her eyes.

It escalates in that sick, logical way power always does. One blowjob in a locked storage room becomes sucking him off in a car parked just off campus, windows fogged while he films every second on his phone. Her “punishments” flip into “tasks.” Wear the skirt shorter. No panties this time. Sit at the front row while he messages her instructions, like “spread your legs a bit wider” and “touch yourself during the lecture.” There is this brutal little scene where he makes her unbutton her blouse in the faculty restroom, bra pushed up, her big tits spilling out while he slaps them and calls her his personal exhibition piece, snapping pics to send to his buddies. She tries to hold onto her “good girl” thing, repeating to herself that this is just to protect her scholarship, her family, her future, but the game keeps chipping away.

Group stuff comes in later, not as a surprise kink, more like a consequence. He “shares” her in some club backroom, her on her knees, mascara running while a line of guys use her mouth. One grabs her hair, another squeezes that round ass so hard she flinches, someone else spanks her and laughs when she jolts. There is this sticky, messy bukkake scene where her school uniform is ruined, shirt soaked with cum, white splatters in her hair and on her cheeks, and he tells her to walk back through campus like that under a coat, no shower, just shame sticking to her skin. Later, when he starts sending her to fuck random men for cash, it hits different. She is still a “virgin” in her head, clinging to the idea that she only lost it to him, pretending the prostitution thing is just business, not identity. The game quietly disagrees.

The humiliation is constant but not one-note. Sometimes it is physical, like spanking her ass red in a stairwell where any student could walk in. Sometimes it is smaller, like making her flirt with a teacher while his hand is crammed between her thighs, fingers teasing her pussy under the skirt, her trying to form normal sentences. There are moments where she is clearly wet and hates herself for it, breathing hard while some guy finishes inside her and pulls out, cum dripping down her thighs, and she has to pull up her panties and go back to “normal.” She slowly learns that “no” comes with a price. Say no and he leaks something. Say no and he drags someone she loves into the threat. Say yes and she gets praised like a pet. The corruption here is less about magical corruption and more about that small voice inside changing from “this is wrong” to “maybe I deserved this” without you even noticing which scene did it.

On the surface it is just another kinetic porn story about a busty schoolgirl being turned into a toy. Big tits, big ass, a uniform that spends more time on the floor than on her body, oral, anal, creampies, all the menu items. But under that, there is this itchy discomfort, especially when she starts volunteering poses before he even tells her, bending over a desk, pulling her panties aside by herself, forcing a smile while guys jerk off on her face. I liked that, and also hated it. Sometimes the game feels too honest about how control works. Sometimes it is just horny as fuck, like when two guys grab her, one shoving his cock in her mouth, the other lining up behind, and she is pinned between them, gagging and moaning, breasts bouncing while he pounds her from the back until she squeals and he spills inside her raw. Then class goes on. Library opens. Life pretends to be normal again.

You can play this on your phone browser while pretending to check Telegram or Reddit, thumb tapping through scenes, one hand under the desk. It fits that secret vibe. A dirty little story about a girl who thought she could keep her world clean. Turns out cum stains are harder to wash out than she planned.

Neuro/Splice feels like someone grabbed a cyberpunk thriller, a fucked‑up body swap fetish, and a humiliation dungeon, blendered it together, and then forgot to clean the mess off the walls. In a good way. You’ve got this cop Ryke, corporate dog for NexaCorp, who ends up jammed into Cassie’s body, tossed straight into a mixed‑gender max security prison that looks like a cross between a riot and a sex club that never closes. He’s a guy in his head, stuck in this soft, dangerous female body, surrounded by assholes who think she’s just fresh meat. Guards grope when they feel like it, inmates test boundaries with “accidental” touches that are not even slightly accidental, and every little mistake you make, the game slaps you back with some brutal teasing or public humiliation. There’s this early scene where you misjudge who to talk to in the yard and instead of a simple “game over”, you end up pressed against a fence, hand forced between Cassie’s legs in front of half the block while some guard laughs and pretends it’s a “routine check”. That whole vibe of “you wanted to be the hero, now suck it up” never really stops. It keeps poking at the fantasy of control, then yanking it away. If you’re expecting soft cuddly romance, you loaded the wrong tab in your browser.

The wild part is that while Ryke is getting his ass metaphorically and literally beaten in Cassie’s skin, Cassie wakes up in his male body on the other side of the fence with all the power he used to enjoy. Suddenly the hunted rebel girl is the scary dude in uniform, walking down halls where people flinch when she passes. She can abuse that. Hard. Use her new status to harass coworkers, push underlings around, “search” suspects with hands that stay way too long in the wrong places. There’s this interrogation room scene where you can lean into full male domination, pushing a nervous female tech against the table, fingers slipping exactly where HR would have a heart attack, all under the excuse of “investigation procedure”. Or you can pretend to be decent while constantly edging the line, which is almost worse. The game loves turning basic choices into fetish traps. Say the polite thing, you still get dragged into some forced stripping in the showers later. Try to act tough, you get chained up, spanked, and mocked like a bratty girl who forgot her place. It toys with netorare stuff in a really sneaky way too. People talk about “Cassie” like she’s a thing that can be used, and you know it’s Ryke in there screaming, but the body reacts, the nipples harden, the thighs tremble, and the game does not let you pretend that isn’t hot. Meanwhile, outside the prison, Cassie in Ryke’s body gets chances to steal other people’s lovers, ruin relationships, and then walk away like it was nothing. It hits that nasty “I stole your girl and she liked it better” kink and then just moves on like it never happened. Honestly, I wish they toned nothing down. The more it kicks at comfort zones, the more it actually feels alive.

Your life should have been boring as hell. Little farm kid, small fantasy town, marry a local girl, grow potatoes, die. Instead you somehow put a ring on one of the most famous adventurers in the whole damn kingdom, this stacked, battle-scarred goddess with giant tits, a perfect ass and a sword arm that could probably snap your spine if you misbehave. And she actually agrees to drop the armor, squeeze into a too-tight tavern uniform and work in your tiny, creaky bar as the new sexy waitress. It already feels like cheating just watching her bend over tables and pretend she doesn’t notice the way every drunk in the room is measuring her up like she is tonight’s main dish.

The game basically runs on that one dirty thought you never admit to anyone: what if your own wife wasn’t just yours? You’re the owner, she’s the barmaid, and every night the place fills with horny bastards, big spenders, shady mercs, orcs with big black cocks that barely fit in their trousers, and you decide how far you push her. Maybe you keep it “sweet” at first. Let her flirt, talk with that cute shy smile, boobs almost falling out of her corset while guys tip extra to see a little more cleavage. Then you start choosing drinks or events that push the mood. Stronger liquor, louder music, “accidental” wardrobe malfunctions, bets that end with her sitting in some stranger’s lap while you pretend to count coins. It’s all about nudging the line and then watching it vanish. One moment you’re proud husband, next moment you’re in the storage room jerking off because she just let a dark elf slap her ass in front of everyone and laughed like it was nothing.

What hits hard is how the game makes you feel both powerful and pathetic at the same time. You call the shots, pick dialog, pick what she wears, if she serves the regulars in that half-open shirt or that super tight skirt she can barely walk in. You choose if she smiles and seduces, if she blushes in humiliation, if she gets rough-handled behind the bar when you “look away” a bit too long. Sometimes you try to be a good guy and keep her safe, but the tavern itself kind of corrupts you. Money goes up faster when she lets them touch. Reputation spreads when she serves the big black stud in the corner and doesn’t stop him when his hand climbs under her skirt. And the part that fucked my brain a bit is that she actually likes the attention if you keep pushing that way, or she hates it and still does it because she wants you happy, and both versions are hot for completely different reasons. It’s not just porn, it’s this slow, messy slide from “my loyal wife” to “everyone’s favorite milf waitress” with you stuck between jealousy, pride, arousal and this weird, guilty smile while adventurers brag about how good her mouth feels. By the time the tavern is famous, you’re not even sure if you’re still the husband or just the guy who owns the bed she crawls into after getting pounded behind the bar. And somehow, that’s exactly what you were dreaming of from the start.

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.

Holy Shaft feels like somebody mashed together a horny visual novel, a shitty elevator safety video and a humiliation kink discord, then forgot to proofread anything and just shipped it. Which kinda works, somehow. You start in this janky little elevator that looks like it should be going to the office, but instead every floor is a new “what the hell did I walk into” situation. It’s not long-winded at all: door opens, you get smacked in the face with a scenario, you pick your poison, you get either sex, pain, cringe, or all three at once. Then ding, next floor. I was basically treating it like an achievement hunt: “ok, what do I have to say or click here to get her to pull out the toys instead of just slapping me and kicking me out again?” That kind of vibe. Sometimes the game rewards you with a proper scene, sometimes it feels like you got blueballed by the script, but you can kind of see the invisible flowchart in your head after a few runs and it becomes this weird puzzle of horny cause and effect.

What stuck to me most are those tiny branching moments where you think “this answer is stupid, no one picks this,” and of course that’s the one that opens the best scene. There’s this one floor where you can either play it polite or lean into being a complete degenerate. The polite path gives you like two lines and a half-assed tease. Go full trash, and suddenly she’s got a toolbox worth of sex toys out and you’re watching her decide if you deserve the vibrator or the paddle first. The animation is simple but it hits the important parts: jiggle, impact, expressions that actually change when you mess up or push too far. I liked how some characters take your earlier choices personally. Humiliate someone on one floor, then later you see her again and she’s way more rough with you, like she’s keeping score. Or you play submissive all the way and some of them switch into this mocking, playful bullying that feels like soft degradation porn. Sometimes it looks a bit cheap, like “Unity test build with horny plugin” energy, and some punchlines fall flat like an old meme, but then you get a scene where the spanking rhythm syncs with the sound and suddenly it’s way hotter than it has any right to be. The multiple endings thing, honestly, feels more like a set of “you were a good little perv / you were a trash fire” medals than big cinematic finales, but if you’re like me and have a notepad in Google Keep with “ok, Floor 3: choose rude option twice, then agree, then don’t back out” scribbled down, it scratches that completionist brain hard enough you keep riding that cursed elevator again and again.

You slip into this game as the new professor at Beacon and the whole thing feels kind of wrong in a way that makes it hard to stop reading. It’s not shy about what it wants: you, a smug older guy with too much authority, and Ruby, older than in the show but still with that clumsy puppy energy, stuck in your classroom while you slowly bend her into something filthy. The whole thing runs on text, so there is no fancy distraction. Just words hitting you, one after another, like a slow hand creeping up a thigh. The writing starts playful, almost harmless, with dumb jokes and parodies of school rules, and then suddenly you realize you’re several choices deep into blackmailing this girl over one embarrassing incident in the training hall.

There was one scene where you “help” Ruby with her combat stance. It begins like normal tutoring, legs apart, hands on her hips, small corrections. Then the teacher voice in the text softens and turns very personal. The script pays a lot of attention to little sounds: her armor clinking when you press her against the desk, the soft “ah” when you grope a little too high, the tiny wet click when she swallows her nerves along with your threats. No need for audio, you can almost hear it anyway. And when she finally drops to her knees for “extra credit”, the text slows down, sentence by sentence, describing the way she breathes against your cock, the messy saliva strings, the muted gagging. It lingers just long enough to make you feel like a creep, then cracks a joke about grades, like it wants you to laugh at your own corruption. I kinda hated that. And liked it. Then hated that I liked it. The pace is strange like that: some scenes rush right to the good stuff, then later a simple spanking session in your office drags on forever, each smack and whimper stretched out until you feel the heat of her ass on your own palm.

The domination side is not gentle. She starts shy and stubborn, but it doesn’t take long before you’re shoving her face into the desk, pulling her hair while you push inside her, reading her humiliation thoughts in these short, guilty inner monologues. You get moments where she tries to act tough, where the humor pops back up and she cracks a joke while your hand is down her panties, but then one line cuts through, like her realizing she is actually wetter when you insult her. That part stung more than any fictional bruise. The game leans fully into male power fantasy, from groping in crowded halls, to secret anal “lessons” after class, to forcing her to masturbate for you while you just watch and grade her form like it’s homework. Sometimes the text repeats certain actions again and again, like the writer forgot they already described how tight she is, but somehow it fits the sleazy, obsessive tone. It’s messy, too horny to be elegant, full of teasing and rough sex and stupid little asides, like your character complaining about paperwork in the middle of making Ruby choke on him. And yeah, the whole school setting, the blackmail, the way her innocence gets peeled off scene by scene, it all feels like reading a dirty fanfic at 200% intensity, where every new “lesson” is just an excuse to drag her a little deeper into your bed, and her shame sounds louder in your head than any battle in the original show ever did.

Angels Academy feels like someone smashed a horny dating sim into a theology class, spilled porn all over the syllabus, then said “yeah, this is fine” and opened the doors anyway. You play this bratty guy who got shipped off to a religious “last chance” island because he got caught jerking off, which already tells you the tone: no one here is really holy, they just pretend until their pants are off. The whole place is this weird mix of strict uniforms, old stone halls, stained glass, and girls with asses and tits that do not belong in a place that talks about purity. One moment you’re nodding along while some pious girl talks about virtue, the next you are watching her blush hard while you stare a little too long when the wind lifts her skirt. The story gives you space to either play the slightly decent guy who teases, flirts, learns how to talk to different beliefs, or the absolute bastard who blackmails, corrupts and turns every “angel” into something far from heaven. It is mostly clicking around the campus, spying where you should not, poking at every shiny icon like a horny raccoon, and then watching what kind of trouble your mouth and your hands can start.

The fun comes from how dirty the game is willing to go while still pretending it has “faith” in the background. There is this high you get when you pull a girl away from the group after some prayer session, close the door behind you, and she goes from “God is watching” to sliding to her knees with your cock in her mouth, drool on her chin, eyes up like she is worshiping something else now. Some scenes play from your eyes only, so when you shove a shy virgin against a locker and just start groping her ass through the skirt, you see her breathing quicken literally in front of you. Or when you push a proud, bossy girl to strip on a balcony where people might look up at any second, and she hates you for making her do it but still spreads her legs wider because you told her to. The tone jumps a lot: one route feels like romance with slow teasing and handjobs in quiet dorm rooms, another is pure humiliation, like forcing some religious honor student to masturbate for you while she whispers prayers that get more and more broken. You can fool around with all kinds of girls, different skin tones, different religions, different kinks, and the game happily lets you be a controlling prick who uses secrets and blackmail to build a harem that looks holy on paper and filthy from your bed. I wish the UI didn’t hide some scenes behind weird skill checks that look like a spreadsheet, but whatever, it still feels good when that one choice you made three clicks ago suddenly turns into a sloppy blowjob in a confession booth with the candles flickering and her faith falling apart on your dick.

Rilly looks like the kind of girl who would bully you on Discord, send you a cursed meme, then accidentally ruin your whole life with one drunk selfie. The game drops you right inside her mess: phones buzzing, group chats exploding, horny DMs stacking up while she’s trying to remember what the hell happened that night. You’re not some big hero, you’re basically a creep with a god view of her phone and her camera roll, watching her stumble through secrets and lies while everyone around her wants something from her body or her reputation. The fun part is how the game weaponizes humiliation. One minute she’s teasing some loser virgin in chat, calling him pathetic while dangling a blurred pic as “reward,” and the next moment you’re the one realizing everyone might have a copy of a photo she doesn’t even remember taking, and she’s the one on the leash. It’s hot in a kind of ugly way. Not elegant porn, just messy, spiteful, phone-screen sex drama.

What hooked me is how much of the action is in text and tiny choices instead of giant porn buttons. You’re reading chat logs, watching her type and delete messages, trying to decide if she flirts harder, plays the cruel goth queen, or just panics. I had this one scene where she’s on voice call, camera off, and the guy on the other side is begging to see her feet. She rolls her eyes, slams her legs on the table, snaps a lazy foot pic with chipped black nail polish, sends it, and the game instantly flips to his POV-style messages, full meltdown, thanking his “goddess” while she spams “lol” and calls him her little toy. The animation is AI CG, kind of uncanny but in a way that fits the vibe: her pink hair looks too perfect, her tongue out in stupid ahegao faces while her eyes still look tired and empty from the hangover. It’s not cinematic or clean, but that’s why it works. It feels like you’re scrolling through some cursed Twitter thread you shouldn’t see. And every time a new voyeur angle appears, like a hallway photo where she clearly didn’t hold the phone, you get this mix of “fuck, that’s hot” and “oh shit, someone is watching her all the time.”

The game pretends you’re here to help her “find the truth,” but honestly it keeps pushing you to be just as shitty as the people around her. You can choose to leak something in a chat to humiliate another girl, and the side effect is Rilly getting dragged harder in a group call later. There’s a sequence where she’s drunk, camera on, and some guy is talking softly, guiding her to strip piece by piece “for fun,” and the UI quietly shows more viewers joining without her noticing. Virgin guys get roasted, worshippers get stepped on, and Rilly shifts from bratty dom energy to shaking, embarrassed mess when someone plays a saved audio of her moaning back to her in a later call. The netorare angle creeps in too: you’re reading a log where some dude is bragging about fucking “the pink-haired slut from last night” while another guy who was obviously into her is in the same chat, spamming question marks and slowly realizing it’s her. She doesn’t even know they’re talking about her yet. I kinda hate the game for how dirty that felt. I also kinda went back to replay that route trying to unlock every variation of her reaction scene, because I’m a degenerate completionist and the gallery makes a little noise when you fill a new slot and my brain likes that. Anyway, if your thing is watching a girl get trapped in her own phone, worshipped and humiliated in the same breath, this one is stupidly effective at making you feel like the worst kind of voyeur, and somehow you keep clicking.

Halloween drinks, shitty plastic fangs, that kind of fake-spooky vibe where everyone’s already thinking about fucking before the first jump scare even happens. That’s the mood here. You’ve got Crystal and Dana doing the “who can show more cleavage without admitting it’s on purpose” contest, Elena pretending she’s above it while her dress is doing absolutely nothing to hide that ass, and Finn trying to act like the only thing he’s eyeing is the cocktail menu. Then somebody throws out the genius idea to keep the party going in an abandoned house by the beach, because horny people in horror stories never learn. It’s a short kinetic ride, no choices, just sit down, click, and let it roll, like when you open Telegram on your phone just to check one thing and suddenly you’re watching some cursed porn thread for 15 minutes straight. Same energy.

The engine part is actually kinda funny to me. It’s simple, yeah, but the 3D models carry personality. The bodies look heavy and real enough that when the girls start teasing each other, tits bouncing, hips pressed against old dusty walls, you can almost hear your GPU go “bro, calm down” even though the game is not that demanding. Crystal is the one who feels like she’s always one bad decision away from taking her top off in public, and here she kinda does that. The exhibitionism ramps slowly, first with jokes in the bar, a hand sliding too low on a thigh, a dare to flash in the old house corridor where every shadow looks like it’s watching. Then you remember this is futa horror, not some softcore pool party. The protagonist packing a thick futa cock under that tight outfit is the real jump scare for anyone in the group who thought they knew what they wanted. There is anal, there is humiliation, there is that uncomfortable moment where pleasure and fear get so close you’re not sure which one is making your dick twitch. And in the middle of all that, the timing stumbles a bit. A key reaction shot lingers too long, a moan subtitle pops slightly off-sync, one bigger scare lands kind of flat and I kept thinking “ok, you could have given me one click to react there”. But then another scene hits where the futa MC gets pushed against a rotting window, ass raised, someone’s hand forcing her to show herself to the beach outside, and the game suddenly remembers exactly what it wants to be.

What I liked most is how the pacing snaps from playful to cruel without asking for permission. One second they’re laughing about costumes, next second someone is on their knees, lipstick smeared, gagging on a thick trans cock while the house feels like it’s listening. The milf energy here is not polite either. Dana feels like that older woman who knows exactly how far she can push humiliation before it breaks you, and she stays right on that edge, grabbing hair, whispering filthy stuff that is way more degrading than the actual acts. Big tits press together, sweat and cheap Halloween makeup mixing while the story calmly reminds you that something in the house is not right. No branching, no stats, no grinding. Just a tight little nightmare where big asses and bigger dicks brush up against rotten walls and the camera is not shy about angles that make you feel like a creep in the corner. If you want to squeeze everything out of it, don’t rush. Let the silences sit. Don’t spam-click past the build-up. Read the lines where they talk shit to each other, where the fear slips into arousal and back. That’s where the horror and the horny really twist together and your brain goes “I shouldn’t be turned on by this” while your body’s like “too late”.