Waking up inside a smartphone because a horny trickster god got bored with you is already wild, but this thing leans into it hard. You used to fuck other guys’ wives, now you’re literally trapped inside their husbands, riding along in their bodies like a cursed passenger. You feel what they feel, see what they see, and you’re stuck with their hard-ons, their guilt, their shitty life choices. Loki basically turned you into a pervy parasite and then sits there laughing while you try not to lose your mind every time some big titty wife bends over in front of “you”. It’s not subtle. It’s not gentle. It’s that kind of story where the universe kicks you in the balls and then asks if you liked it.

The pace is weird in the best way. Sometimes you’re just scrolling messages and photos, swiping through this guy’s life, then suddenly the wife walks in wearing nothing but a towel that barely holds her big ass, drops it “by accident”, starts teasing him like she’s bored and horny at the same time. You’re inside his head, feeling the heat climb, his cock getting hard under the table while she pretends it’s no big deal, sucking on a popsicle right in his face like a joke that goes too far. There’s this nasty, delicious corruption vibe, because half the time you’re pushing him to give in, whispering in his thoughts, “Touch her, go on, fuck her, she wants it”, and the other half you’re actually panicking, because you know some of these women are already being fucked behind his back by someone else. Or they will. Loki keeps hinting, poking, showing you clips, screenshots, little details that make you question everything. The netorare sting isn’t a sudden shock, it crawls under your skin. You see a lipstick mark that shouldn’t be there, a chat icon popping up a bit too often, a photo angle that screams “someone else took this”. You’re still jerking off in your own head when you realize you’re probably not the only one tasting her tonight.

What really got me is how horny it stays even when it gets mean. You’ve got slow, intimate scenes where she sits on his lap and grinds on him through thin panties, whispering soft romance shit in his ear, kissing his neck, guiding his hands under her top, making him feel her huge tits while she bites her lip. Then suddenly she’s on her knees, sucking him off messy, drool on her chin, eyes staring up like she’s in love and also in total control. The AI CG stuff has that slightly unreal polish, but in a good way, like you’re watching a fantasy that became just real enough to hurt. Vaginal, oral, stripping piece by piece, teasing until you want to scream at the screen. And you’re not actually “doing” anything, it’s a kinetic story, so your only job is to watch this guy live the life you deserved and kind of hate him for it, while Loki treats you like a pet he toys with. The worst part is that it works. One moment you’re melting when she cuddles up, saying she’s scared to lose him, the next your gut twists because something she says doesn’t match, and you know you’re being played from both sides. It’s horny, cruel, funny in that “I shouldn’t be laughing, but I am” way. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?

Casteen feels like someone secretly recorded all those sketchy porn casting clips I keep sampling for work, then turned it into a little interactive toy where you actually are the guy behind the camera. Not the high budget studio stuff from Brazzers, no, more like those grainy “first time audition” videos you stumble on at 2Jerk or PornHub when you search for “amateur casting raw audio” because you want that nervous breathing and cheap couch squeak. The girls here come in with that same vibe: they want to be models, they think they’re getting a normal job, and you’re sitting there with power, a camera, and zero intention to stay professional. It’s not a big game, it doesn’t pretend to be, but it hits a very specific fantasy: you talk, they listen, and slowly they stop sounding like shy students and start sounding like sluts who would do anything to get picked.

What got me first was the sound, obviously, because I’m that freak who opens games with my headphones already on and my browser volume at 8 instead of 10, just to hear the noise floor. There’s this tiny moment when the first girl sits down and you can almost hear her clothes rub against the seat, like that faint “shfff” that never shows up in most porn games. Little boots tapping, awkward fake laughs when you tell her to “stand up and turn around, slowly” and she tries to hide she’s shaking. Her voice isn’t some overconfident pornstar moan, she starts out almost too quiet, like she’s not sure if she should call you sir or just “uhm”. Then you push. “If you want the job, you’ll need to show a bit more.” The tone shifts. By the time you’ve got her on the couch with her legs spread and your cock buried deep inside her, she sounds different. Less “good girl from small town” and more “fuck me harder, I don’t care if the camera is close”. You can hear her losing that last bit of shame with every thrust and it’s honestly hotter than the visuals half the time. Her moans start messy, like she’s trying to keep her voice down, then suddenly she’s gasping, wet sounds mixing in, and it stops being just a casting and turns into something she pretends she didn’t want. I liked that you feel a little dirty about it. Or maybe a lot. Sometimes the lines she says are almost too on-the-nose, like porn script 101, then the next one hits exactly right, like something a real girl would blurt out while you’re fucking her for the first time on camera, and I forget I was rolling my eyes a second before.

What’s funny is how simple the whole structure is and still it got me replaying scenes just to listen again, like I do in Reaper when I loop that one wet slap from a JAV clip for 20 minutes for no reason. You ask the standard “why you want to be a model” junk, pretend to care about her dreams, then quickly move it to “take off your top”, “no bra now”, “come closer to the camera”, until it’s just straight up pornography. There’s something very male power fantasy here, you know you’re using her, she maybe knows it too but goes along because she wants the job or at least the money, and the game doesn’t try to make you feel better about it. When you finally push her onto the floor or couch and slide in, the way her voice cracks on the first penetration makes the whole thing. I wish there were more little variations, like different types of whimpers depending on how rough you are, but that probably won’t happen. At the same time, it’s fine, because the core loop of “innocent girl, bad idea, hard dick, raw fuck” is strong enough. Sometimes I caught myself ignoring the text and just waiting for the next dirty line or change in her breathing pattern. The sex itself is straightforward, vaginal only, no weird fetishes trying to be edgy, and that almost makes it feel more real: the classic “casting couch” situation, a man in full control, a girl who came to be a model and ends up bounced on his cock while the camera watches everything. It’s fucked up, arousing, a bit trashy, and exactly the kind of thing I’d rip audio from and keep in a folder called something innocent like “room tone 03”.

Christmas vibes hit weird when you’re staring at a thesis outline and end up getting throat-fucked by a futa professor in her office instead of working on chapter two. That’s kind of the mood of this game. You’re this 23-year-old guy, trying to be serious, new city, new life, all that adult responsibility bullshit, and then the game just keeps throwing you at these tall, thick futa MILFs and cocky younger futas who treat “career counseling” like a porn category. It feels like someone took a normal college dating sim, poured hot chocolate on it, spiked it with vodka, then forgot about the “wholesome” part halfway through. One moment you’re choosing research topics, next moment you’re on your knees under a desk, her balls brushing your chin while she keeps typing like nothing is happening. Very “welcome to adulthood, kiddo.”

What I liked most is how the teasing never feels rushed. You walk into the landlady’s kitchen in the morning, she’s in this lazy robe, tits half out, big round ass turning while she makes coffee, and instead of jumping straight into a fuck scene she just leans over, adjusts your tie, presses her body against you, and whispers stuff like “you know, rent is flexible… if you’re flexible too.” But she leaves. No payoff. You’re just left with that hard-on, trying to answer emails. Then a different futa texts you on some fake WhatsApp clone in the game, sends a pic of her feet on the table, toes with red polish, her cock in the background, like “which one you like more?” and you realise, oh, okay, they really want you to be a horny mess at all times. The first time I chose the “focus on work” option, the landlady actually got annoyed and stopped groping me for a while, which honestly hurt more than it should. I was staring at my screen like some desperate idiot, waiting for her to grab my ass again. It’s pathetic. I loved it. I hated it.

The sandbox part is funny. There’s this fake sense of freedom like, yeah, go to the library, meet this serious futa researcher who talks about methodology, wears glasses, looks all strict, and then suddenly her hand is between your legs in the quiet study area, palming your cock while she lectures you about time management. You try to move her hand away, she squeezes harder. At some point she casually pushes your head down under the desk and unzips, and what starts as “quick taste for motivation” turns into your mouth full of her, your jaw hurting, your eyes watering while students walk past. Nobody notices, of course, it’s that type of porn logic. Later there’s a scene where one of them uses your face as a footstool first, presses her soles on your cheeks, makes you lick between her toes before she even lets you touch her shaft. Honestly I didn’t expect the foot stuff to go that hard. Thought it would be just a quick fetish nod, but no, she presses her heel on your cock, makes you cum without even using her hands. And then complains you stained her stockings. The only thing that annoyed me was some tiny little UI button for changing locations that sits in the corner and I kept missing it, but anyway, the whole vibe is like a horny winter break that never ends, full of big tits, big asses, futa egos, and you, the poor guy who planned to write a thesis and instead became everyone’s stress-relief toy.

Eddie and Rachel look like that normal anime couple you scroll past on Instagram reels and think, “yeah, they’re fine, next.” Then the game quietly takes that “fine” and just grinds it into horny dust while you sit there, phone in hand, feeling way too involved for someone who technically isn’t even in the story. It’s a kinetic visual novel, so no menu maze, no stat grinding, no “good husband route if you say the right thing” safety net. You’re basically trapped in the passenger seat watching this dude’s life spiral while his wife slowly slips out of his reach, text by text, pic by pic, call by call. There’s something really nasty and kind of addictive about how normal it all starts: money problems, job gone to hell, loans that look familiar if you ever opened your banking app and just stared at the numbers like they’re a joke. Eddie’s trying to keep his job, trying to make the boss happy, trying to handle his dick failing him from stress, and Rachel’s trying to help, trying to bring cash, trying to stay that supportive wife… until the “trying” turns into late replies, camera angles that are just a bit too flattering, and clothes that are “for interviews” but you can tell they’re chosen to impress very specific eyes that are not yours.

Most of the tension lives in the phone. If you ever sunk too much time into WhatsApp or Discord drama, this hits way too close. Notifications feel like traps. You read Eddie scrolling, you see Rachel’s messages, and the timing of everything is just cruel. There’s that familiar teasing flavor where she’s still sweet, still calling him “hun” or whatever, but a random selfie has a bra that wasn’t there before, or a skirt that rides a little higher, and the background has some dude’s office in it. You’re not told directly, “hey, this is corruption now.” It’s more like you’re stuck doomscrolling the slow-motion cheating arc of your own relationship, except here you’re safe and also rock hard, which is messed up but that’s the point. The voyeur angle is strong, too. You’re not in the room while she’s touching herself, but you see the proof after. You don’t watch Eddie’s boss eye-fuck his wife in real time, but the CGs and the way the chat logs line up give your brain enough to fill the blanks on its own. At some point she’s not just helping with bills anymore; she’s “helping” in ways that clearly have nothing to do with loan interest, and everything to do with how far she’ll let them push her, and how far you’re willing to keep watching her fall. The wild part is how the romance never fully disappears. There are moments where you can tell she still loves him, still cares, even while she’s sending off pictures she would never have shared before, masturbating with someone else on call, or letting another guy “help her relax” because Eddie’s too worn out and too soft. It’s filthy, it’s cruel, it’s sad in a way that sits right next to horny instead of killing it, and the game never pauses to ask if you’re okay with that. It just keeps moving, like a group chat you know you should mute, but you sit there, staring at the screen, waiting for the next message anyway.

You start as this washed-up ex-child actor in LA who peaked before puberty, which is already kinda hot in a fucked up way, because the game never lets you forget he’s a mess. He’s broke, clingy, horny, trying to squeeze fame out of a podcast that no one sane would listen to. The whole thing is built around this dumb but perfect idea: a sleazy “sex-adjacent” podcast with hot girls who are supposed to talk about clout and drama while low-key getting dragged into this spiral of blackmail, cheating, and public humiliation. It feels less like “build your dream harem” and more like “weaponize people’s trauma for clicks and pussy,” which I mean as a compliment, kinda. The humor is actually funny sometimes too, not that Marvel quip bullshit, more like “wow you really said that on camera?” nasty.

The girls are exactly the type you’d expect around a thirsty LA podcast setup: big tits, big ass, big mouth, tiny filter. They’re not just sex dolls though, they roast you, they tease you, they bully you, they drag you on your own show. One of my favorite bits is when you’re trying to keep two of them from absolutely destroying each other on the couch while you’re still rolling, and at the same time you’re trying to angle the conversation into “so, what’s your type in men?” so you can line up some pussy later. There’s a lot of femdom energy floating around, not in a leather-and-whip way, more like they know you’re desperate and they use it. Sexual harassment in both directions too, guys and girls just crossing lines like it’s a sport. One minute you’re getting a lapful of big ass during a fake “twerk contest for the fans”, next minute that same girl is using your fuck-up on stream to blackmail you into quietly helping her cheat on her dude. Or worse, she lets you fuck her and then laughs that she’s going to describe every second of it on TikTok as “content”.

The netorare stuff hits that specific dirty brain itch. It’s not just “oh no, my waifu is stolen”, it’s more like everybody is playing this clout game where loyalty is negotiable and sex is currency. You run into situations where another guy gets invited as a co-host or guest and suddenly he’s charming the girls on-air, touching their thighs while the camera “accidentally” stays too low, and your MC is forced to smile for the audience while his brain screams. There’s this one bit where you help set up a collab to boost your view count, and it slowly turns into you literally watching one of the girls slide closer to him on the couch, hand on his chest, and you can tell she’s deciding if she’s going to ride his dick later purely because it’ll piss you off and make better drama. The game leans into that, like “yeah, you wanted fame, here’s your girlfriend getting fucked for engagement numbers.” Or maybe she’s not your girlfriend. Or maybe she was, but only between ad reads. The sex itself can get surprisingly tender or straight-up nasty depending how you play it, from teasing strip moments during “body positivity talk” to full-on vaginal scenes that feel like you’re sneaking them past the algorithm. Half the time you’re trying to keep sponsors happy and the other half you’re wondering if that shadowy group pulling strings cares more about views or about watching you crumble while someone else makes your girl moan on a couch that smells like cheap perfume and broken promises.

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.

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You wake up in this therapy center with your brain feeling like someone hit “delete” on half your save files, and the person in charge of fixing you is a woman who definitely should not be allowed to call what she does “therapy”. Miss Lust looks at your trauma like it’s a puzzle she’s horny to solve, and every “session” is basically her asking “what if we push you just a bit further?” then shoving you off the cliff instead. One moment she’s talking gently about memory blocks, the next she’s got you on your knees, collar around your neck, making you shuffle a deck of cards that decides if you’re going to get your ass stretched, your clothes taken away, or your dignity ripped apart in front of people who should not be watching but totally are. The whole card thing sounds simple until you realize it’s not about winning, it’s about how badly you’re willing to lose. You draw a card, suddenly you owe her worship, or your body gets put on display to some stranger behind a glass wall, or she turns your “normal” male protagonist into this confused pretty sissy who starts to like the high heels way too fast. And you tell yourself “this is fucked up, I’m being corrupted”, while at the same time moving the mouse to pick the filthier option because curiosity is a worse dom than Miss Lust.

The game loves to tease that maybe there is romance, maybe she actually cares, then five minutes later she’s auctioning you off for a “special session” with a futa client who treats your ass like it’s public property while Miss Lust just watches, taking notes like it’s a science project. There is this one scene where you stand naked in a corridor with nothing but a card in your hand, and the rule is that you can’t cover yourself at all while strangers pass by and comment, and one woman stops just to step on your cock with her heel, then smiles like she is tipping a waiter. Then later, Miss Lust offers you a “soft” option with cuddles and vaginal sex that almost feels tender, and the game has the nerve to make that feel more humiliating than the gangbang because suddenly you care what she thinks. There are branching paths that turn you into her obedient slave, her little toy prostituted to other patients, the secret lover she hides behind professional talk, or the broken thing that gets off on being called pathetic while licking her feet. The voyeur stuff gets wild too, like that card that forces you to watch another patient being transformed, stripped, and used by two women and one guy while you jerk under the table, trying not to get caught, and if you fail the check she drags you out by the hair and makes you finish in front of them. It is messy, horny, occasionally weirdly sweet, and then it slaps you with NTR flavor just when you start to feel safe. Honestly I wish there was one path where you just say “nope” and go to normal therapy, but also, I’d never click it.

Lussuria Academy feels like someone took all those “normal” magic school fantasies, poured a bucket of horny over them, then left the edges a bit rough on purpose. You’re the only human in a whole academy full of anthro girls, and that tiny detail never shuts up in the background. It’s in how they stare a bit too long, how their ears twitch when you walk past, how the teachers say “human” like it’s a spell that might backfire. The story moves like a slow finger tracing along your neck, not rushing, sometimes even stopping in awkward places. One moment you’re in a quiet corridor, sound of your own footsteps soft over some lazy background track, and then a fox-girl classmate catches you alone and the mood tilts from scholarly to “are we really doing this here?” without big fanfare. The music is simple, loops you’d normally ignore, but in this game they sneak under your skin. A calm, almost innocent melody during a late study session, then it fades, and suddenly all you hear is the little sounds: tails brushing fabric, a chair scraping, her breath hitching when you stand too close. The sex doesn’t crash into the screen with fireworks. It creeps in. A hand on your wrist a bit too long, a joke that turns dirty, a spell practice that somehow needs “body contact” for channeling. Then the CG hits and you just forget what the previous dialogue even said.

The visuals are that kind of slightly imperfect 2D where a line isn’t perfectly clean and colors sometimes look like the artist was horny and tired at the same time. And it works. Fur texture is suggested with a few strokes, not hyper-detailed, so your brain fills in the softness when her thighs wrap around your waist. Breasts are drawn bold, unapologetic, but not all the same copy-paste shape. Some girls are lean and sharp, with smug smiles, some are thick, heavy hips, tails curling around your leg while they ride you like they’re trying to milk a spell out of your cock. There’s a catgirl whose moans hit this weird mix of purr and whimper and it stays in your head long after the scene ends, way more than whatever magic exam you passed. The magic stuff itself is almost casual. You’re casting with them, learning, charming objects, and then out of nowhere a training room turns into a place to pin a wolf-eared student against the wall and fuck her while candles flicker and she tries not to howl. They use spells as excuses: “We need to test human stamina,” “We should explore cross-species bonding,” and you’re sitting there, pants open, thinking yeah, real scientific.

What I liked most is how the pace messes with you. It’s not smooth. Some routes drag, you click through lines that feel like someone wrote them half awake, and sometimes the translation vibe slips, a phrase sounds off, and you snort instead of getting horny. Then two screens later, a teacher pulls you after class, locks the door, tail slowly curling as she explains “private tutoring” and your brain just melts. There’s this one scene where a shy bunny student tries to thank you for helping her in a duel. She invites you to her dorm room, the background is quiet, only a soft hum like outside wind, and she keeps fidgeting with her skirt. The camera lingers on little details: her trembling fingers, her ears folding when you sit beside her, the tiny squeak when your hand slides over her thigh. It takes ages before anything explicit happens, and then when she finally climbs into your lap, grinding nervously, the game doesn’t cut away. You hear the rhythm pick up, that wet sound, the shaky breathing layered over the same simple loop, and suddenly this silly furry magic VN feels way too intimate. It’s messy, sometimes clumsy, horny as hell, and when a fox teacher presses your face into her furry tits to “calm your mana flow,” you completely forget you ever came here to study.