Freshly dumped into a new house with your mom, boxes still everywhere, the air feels kinda empty and horny at the same time. Your dad bailed, left the place to you two, and suddenly the woman who used to just be “mom” is walking around in tight shorts, bending over to unpack stuff, and you realize your eyes are not behaving like a good son at all. The game leans hard into that quiet, awkward energy. It’s not loud, not full of explosions or crazy drama, just this slow, teasing thing where every small moment can turn sexual if you push it. You click through dialogue, you watch her stretch on the couch, you “accidentally” walk in when she’s changing, and the story keeps asking you without saying it out loud: are you going to be a decent guy here, or are you going to be a sneaky bastard?

What I like is how the lewd stuff doesn’t jump on you right away. The build-up is actually kind of nice. You notice how she sits with her legs a bit open when she thinks nobody is looking, how her shirt rides up when she reaches for the top shelf, how that big ass of hers has become impossible to ignore. There’s this one scene where she’s washing dishes, back turned, water running, and the game lets you decide if your hand “accidentally” brushes against her butt while you squeeze past. If you choose the pervy path, you get slow escalation: lingering touches, your hand staying on her hip a bit too long, the way she gasps but doesn’t move away, that sort of thing. Voyeur stuff is here too, like sneaking outside her room at night, hearing soft sounds through the door, the option to peek and see her fingers between her thighs or her playing with a toy, whispering your name or pretending she doesn’t. It’s messed up, yeah, but that’s exactly the fantasy they’re selling, and they don’t pretend it’s something else.

Eventually it goes further, of course. More bold groping when she’s half asleep on the sofa, your fingers sliding under her shorts while a movie quietly plays in the background. Her pretending it’s an accident the first time, then later pressing back into your touch. There’s oral too, with her on her knees in that same kitchen where you were unpacking boxes earlier, her lips wrapped around your cock, tears at the corner of her eyes as she tries to take you deeper, all while she still calls you “my boy” out of habit, which makes it dirtier. The visual novel style means a lot of reading, a lot of choices, and you kinda live in this grey zone between “I’m helping mom with the divorce pain” and “I’m using her loneliness to get my dick wet.” No long tutorial, no complicated systems, just that slow burn of teasing, watching, touching, seeing how far you can push your own mother before she stops pretending it’s wrong. And yeah, she never really does.

I wasn’t even sure why I clicked “play” on this thing, maybe boredom, maybe curiosity, maybe just that dumb impulse you get when your brain wants something soft and warm to sink into. The game pretends to be about family drama and old memories, but five minutes in you realize it’s really about staring at people too long and overthinking every choice that might lead to someone taking their clothes off. Which sounds cheap, but it isn’t? Or maybe it *is*, and that’s kinda the charm. There’s this weird pacing, like half soap opera, half porno, with pauses long enough for you to question what you’re doing with your life before the next moan interrupts. Aunt Megan shows up looking like a walking contradiction - proper tone, dirty eyes - and I kept thinking, “she knows exactly what she’s doing.” Then forgot all about that thought when the screen went dark because I missed a dialogue cue.

What surprised me most: the teasing is actually… patient. Like, the game doesn’t rush. It lets you stew. Everyone’s pretending not to notice how tight the air gets whenever the MC walks into a room, and those moments hit harder because they feel almost accidental. One scene - with the older woman bent over a kitchen counter complaining about her back - had more tension than any of the “explicit” ones. Don’t even get me started on the small-tit character, she’s written like she’s always two seconds away from snapping at you, then does something so soft you forget what she said. Kinda embarrassing how much that worked on me. The sound design helps too - not high-budget, but the little sighs, the way footsteps echo on tile floors, it bleeds realism in all the wrong ways.

Anyway, I was gonna complain about how some routes feel half-finished, how the interracial scenes pop up outta nowhere, but then again, maybe that’s part of the mess. It feels human in that sense - uneven, horny, sentimental, lazy, weirdly tender. I stopped trying to find the “point” halfway through. Maybe that’s when it got good.

FSS Lamashtu feels like somebody mashed up a cold war naval thriller with a filthy space brothel and then forgot which part was supposed to be serious. You’re the freshly minted captain of this “experimental cruiser” that is absolutely not built for exploration, unless you count exploring how many holes your crew can take in a single patrol. Officially it’s the proud weapon of the Alliance, last hope in a long-ass war. Unofficially it’s your floating fuck-lab, staffed with officers who look like they came out of a horny AI art generator after you typed “war crime but sexy” too many times. The ship layout screen is almost a character by itself: bridge, medbay, cargo, those little tucked-away compartments you quickly learn are perfect for “private disciplinary sessions.” You jump between menus pretending to care about fleet orders, but the only thing you actually remember is which corridor you cornered that technician in when she kept “accidentally” brushing her giant tits against you.

The story likes to pretend it’s about geopolitics and rebellion, and sometimes it even tricks you. You’ll get this long briefing about the Neo-Terran strategic line, convoy raids, morale of the Alliance, all that stuff. Then two clicks later, you’re watching a proud enemy pilot on her knees, mascara running, mouth full of cum while she tries to spit out her rank and serial number. The tone whiplash is almost funny. There’s a certain charm in how the game refuses to pick a lane: you capture prisoners, you break them in slowly or just slam straight into collar-and-chain slavery, you’re supposed to feel the “moral weight” of it, but the next scene has them begging for anal like they read the script ahead of time. The AI CG does that exaggerated wetness thing, where every hole looks like you dumped a bucket of lube on it, and every creampie is this ridiculous white flood that should qualify as a bio-weapon. Sometimes the faces twist into that extreme, over-the-top ahegao that doesn’t even look human anymore, more like a melted idol poster, and it somehow fits this world where war propaganda and porn have fused into one genre.

What sticks in my mind most is how physical the ship starts to feel. You’re not just choosing sex options, you’re shaping routines. That science officer who starts with stiff posture and carefully zipped uniform? A few “private evaluations” in your quarters, and suddenly she’s walking around with visible bite marks on her neck, trying not to react when you casually grope her in front of others. There’s a scene in the hangar where two captured enemy girls are supposed to be processed for interrogation, and you can decide if that means basic questions or “group demonstration of Alliance hospitality.” The way their bodies are posed, covered in semen from multiple angles, has that bukkake ritual vibe, everyone participating because the war needs “unity.” You get toy usage too, not just as accessories but as tools of control: a vibrator left inside during a formal strategy meeting, the slow dawning horror on your new slave’s face when she realizes the remote is in your pocket while admirals talk about casualties. The game never really resolves whether you’re a genius commander or just a sex-obsessed tyrant who got lucky with experimental hardware. At some point there’s a tender-ish lesbian moment tucked awkwardly between brutal scenes, two crew girls comforting each other after a mission, fingers exploring, tongues slow and hesitant, and for once you’re not in the frame at all. It feels almost like the game forgot its own premise for a second, then remembers, throws you back into forced deepthroat in a dark interrogation room, and moves on like nothing happened.

New city, new gym, whole building full of girls with claws, tails, extra ears and way too much ass packed into tight sport shorts. You play the guy who owns the place, the “responsible” gym instructor who swears it’s a safe space and not a walking fetish trap, then the first thing you do is watch a sweaty lamia try to fit her giant snake body on a treadmill that was never built for that. The game just throws you into this weird cozy fantasy where every monster girl is pretending it’s just about fitness, while you and them keep eyeing those bouncing tits in the mirror like nobody notices. It feels like a normal gym management RPG at first: you plan sessions, pick training routines, mess with stats, keep an eye on money and equipment. Then you realize each session is basically an excuse to get closer and closer until your “stretching assistance” is just your hands sliding way too low on her hips while she pretends it’s part of the program.

What really got me hooked is how personal the training becomes. You are not just clicking “do squats”. You choose how hard you push them, if you praise or tease, if you focus on strength, stamina, or just making them feel sexy as hell in those tight sport uniforms. One time I decided to be super strict with a shy catgirl who kept hiding her huge chest under baggy clothes. I pushed her with brutal cardio, barely letting her rest. By the end she’s drenched, shirt stuck to her skin, nipples poking through, and she’s staring at you with that mix of “I hate you” and “please don’t stop”. Another time I did the opposite with a tall, smug cow girl. I kept giving her “breaks”, helping her stretch, holding her from behind while she bent over, letting my hands “accidentally” rest on her thick thighs. She knew what I was doing. She leaned her heavy tits back on my chest and asked if that counted as core training.

The sandbox part hits pretty hard. You control schedule, who gets attention, what parts of the gym you upgrade. Do you unlock more public areas where other monster girls can watch each other work out, all that voyeur energy, or do you focus on private rooms where the moans echo against the walls and no one complains? I like when the gym gets busy and you walk through the floor, just clicking on whoever catches your eye: a wolf girl doing squats, ass popping out of her shorts, tail twitching like she’s horny already; a slim bunny girl trying to keep up with heavy weights because she wants a rounder ass and you stand behind her, every rep pushing her closer to you; a proud demon girl who pretends she doesn’t care about “romance” but blushes like crazy when you praise her body. Sometimes the AI art looks a bit off if you stare too long, like an extra finger or weird angle, but honestly the sweat, the flushed faces, the giant tits straining against sports bras, it all sells the fantasy so hard I stopped caring.

There’s a romance angle, yeah, but it’s the obsessive kind if you play it like that. You can focus on one girl, stalk her routine, always being there to “help” only her, tuning her training just for your tastes. You make her stronger while also making sure her curves stay huge, and she starts relying on you emotionally, not just physically. Or you can be a slutty trainer, spreading your attention, making them all a bit too attached, jealous when they see you correcting someone else’s posture from behind. I liked when one of them walked in on me mid “private stretching” with another girl and the dialogue got all passive-aggressive, but nobody actually left. Just silence, heavy breathing, and you in the middle of all that monster girl drama, pretending you are still just a gym owner and not the biggest pervert in the building.