This thing starts like one of those depressing medical dramas you half-watch on Netflix while scrolling TikTok. You’re basically fucked, body falling apart, doctor gives you that calm “there’s nothing more we can do” voice. Then this syringe shows up. Not from some lab, not with fancy lore, it’s just “take this, you won’t hurt anymore.” You jab yourself, expecting blank darkness, and instead you wake up sitting on a throne with your dick hard and a whole kingdom acting like you’re their one and only god-king. Zero tutorial, zero build up, people just bow and call you “Your Majesty” while your brain is still trying to remember how to breathe.

The new world hits different. It’s not just “fantasy with boobs”, it leans right into that fever dream where you got everything you wanted but it feels slightly wrong if you think too long. The first time a fox-eared girl with a tail too fluffy to be legal crawls up to you, calls herself your slave, and presents her huge ass like it’s a royal gift, the game just lets you decide how much of a bastard you want to be. You can grab her hips, push her face into the sheets and go straight for anal like you’re checking if this world is really yours. Or, if you’re pretending to be nice, you start slow, slide into her pussy first, listen to her whimper and feel that tail wrap around your leg while she thanks you for “using” her. She’s not the only one like that either. There’s a towering monster girl with horns, thick thighs, tits that bounce a little too perfectly for something that’s supposed to be hand drawn, and she treats you like the only man alive who can actually handle her. When she grinds on your lap, cock buried inside her, claws digging into your shoulders, the game lets the scene linger. No rush, just you, her, and this ugly little thought in the back of your head that your real body is somewhere dying in a hospital bed.

The weird part is how normal the power starts to feel. One day you’re choosing which slave warms your bed, the next you’re getting ceremony talk shoved in your face. You’re king, so now you have to pick a queen. Not just a girl to fuck, but the one who will carry your heir, make your bloodline, all that “legacy” crap. The game actually lets you sit with that. There’s the obedient cat-like futa knight, cock as thick as your wrist, swearing to breed you if you want it, or bend for you if you’d rather fill her instead. She’ll kneel, pull your pants down in the middle of the throne room, take you into her mouth while the rest of the court pretends not to see, then later you can push her on the bed and test how deep her ass stretches, watch the AI-shaped sweat on her back catch the candlelight. Then there’s the gentle type with big soft tits that practically swallow your hands, the kind of girl who rides you slowly, eyes locked on yours, like she genuinely loves the man you are, not just the crown. The art has that slightly off AI look sometimes, fingers a bit too long in one frame or hair blending weird into the pillow, but somehow it helps the whole dreamlike vibe instead of breaking it. You’re always half-aware this might be fake, that the walls shimmer a bit when you push a slave against them and fuck her hard, her moans echoing a little too clean inside the castle halls. While you’re choosing who you’ll knock up, whose belly you’ll fill with your “royal seed” while she begs for more, there’s that sick feeling that any second you could open your eyes and be back with tubes in your arm. Or maybe this is the morphine talking and you already died. The game doesn’t hold your hand, it just lets you keep taking what you want. And you do. Over and over.

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.

Leo starts as that guy in the office you barely notice, half-wrinkled shirt, cheap tie, fake confidence copy-pasted from a TikTok hustle guru. Then he opens his mouth and suddenly you’re in this sleazy mix of finance porn and actual porn where everybody lies, everybody wants more zeroes on the screen, and also everybody has a ridiculous chest. His world is penny stocks, dirty “business meetings”, and those glossy office corridors that look like they were built just so someone can press a MILF up against the glass. You’re not just clicking through a story, you’re basically trying to see how far you can push this dude before he becomes a full-on monster or just a horny clown with a brokerage account.

The hook is simple: power, money, and asses so big they have their own gravity. Instead of some fantasy kingdom, it’s that fake Wall Street vibe, more like Wolf of Wall Street if it had less coke jokes and more “hey, maybe I should not fuck my boss’s wife over a Bloomberg terminal”. Every “deal” feels like a setup for either a win on the market or a win in bed, and sometimes both at once. One moment you’re talking pink sheets and pump-and-dump, next moment a real-model secretary with a push-up bra that should honestly be illegal is asking if you “understand how leverage works” while bending over your desk. I laughed out loud twice, then clicked “continue” like a degenerate. The humor hits that trashy sweet spot: not smart, not subtle, just enough to make you feel slightly ashamed you’re enjoying it. But also some jokes fall totally flat and you kinda just stare at the screen like… ok, who wrote that line, a drunk accountant?

The office MILFs are basically the main event. They’re dressed like LinkedIn profiles from hell: tight skirts, blouses that pretend to be professional but the buttons are losing that battle. Big tits, big asses, big attitude. One of them does this thing where she sits on the edge of the table during a “performance review”, and the camera just… stays there, locked on the curve of her ass so long it becomes funny. I had like three unread emails open in another window and still didn’t alt-tab away. Choices actually matter more than it first looks. You say yes to one risky trade and suddenly you’re in a private “celebration” in a dark office with a married client who clearly hates her husband but loves your tongue. You say no, try to be moral, and she just gives you that look like you’re poor and boring, then walks away slowly so you can watch her hips and regret your life. The multiple endings vibe is real, you can feel routes branching, even when you’re only clicking to see more sideboob. Funny thing, sometimes the erotic scenes drag a bit too long, like the writer was scared to cut anything. And then a really hot moment is over in two clicks and you’re thrown back into charts and numbers, which is kinda rude to my dick, not gonna lie. Still, the way money, ego and sex wrap around each other here feels filthy in the right way, like opening the Robinhood app right after nutting and thinking “yeah, I could ruin my life for this”.

“The Mansion Mouse” looks kind of silly at first glance, and then suddenly you’re knee deep in dragon guts watching a tiny mouse soul get swallowed three different ways. It’s written like one of those weird fetish side-chapters from a manga spin-off that the main author probably didn’t supervise. You’re this little mouse, literally, waking up in a cage in some rich estate, and the “mistress” who owns the place feels like a giantess doujin artist accidentally got to write her whole route. She’s tall, she’s cruel in that lazy way, her fingers are way too big for you, and nothing about the scale is fair. One moment she taps the bars and calls you cute, next moment you’re dangling between claws of an anthro dragon girl who could probably chew through a car. The whole thing feels like somebody saw one panel of a vore manga, misremembered it, and then based a full visual novel on that misremembered panel. In a good way. Or at least an honest way. There are choices all over the place, but they mostly come down to “do you let yourself be meat in this specific style, or do you try to squirm into a worse fate.” You flick between them quickly, too quickly sometimes, like you’re speedrunning your own death gallery.

The giantess angle is strong here. Not just size talk, but camera stuck right up against skin, fur, teeth, folds, places you probably shouldn’t be seeing at that distance. There’s this scene with the dragon mistress where she presses you along her tongue and it cuts to an x-ray shot that looks like a biology lesson drawn by a horny teenager. You see the little mouse body sliding down, squeezed by muscle, and if you pick the wrong line of dialogue she doesn’t even slow down, just swallows and goes back to her book. Another path lets her “keep” you inside in a way that’s more unbirth than vore, like you’ve been downgraded from pet to living toy lodged somewhere way too warm and rhythmic. Those routes feel weirdly intimate and also kind of brutal, like the game can’t decide if it wants to be loving or mean, so it tries both in the same scene. There is blood in some endings, splashes of it, bones too, and then sometimes she licks you clean like you’re precious. It’s all over the place in tone. That’s part of why it works. The furry thing is not shy either. Everyone important is some anthro creature towering above you, paws or claws filling the whole screen, and you stay small the entire time. No magic fix, no growth potion to “even things out”, you just keep being food-sized while the story forks into several endings that all feel like different flavors of the same cruel joke. And yet I kept clicking, because somehow this miserable little mouse, trapped in a manor full of predatory women and dragons, feels more alive than half the polished stuff on Steam.