You just want a quiet weekend in your grandpa’s creepy old mountain hut, right? Hot tea, fresh air, maybe some porn on your phone when the signal behaves. Instead the whole damn forest wraps itself in this thick, dirty looking fog that feels like it wants to crawl into your lungs. The trees are half visible, the sky is gone, and every time the wind moves you get this quick glimpse of something moving wrong between the shadows. Not a fun kind of wrong. The kind that makes your balls shrink a bit even while you’re trying to get turned on.

Then she shows up. Bare feet, torn clothes, breathing like she ran for her life, eyes big as hell. She practically crashes into your hut and just clings to you, shaking, and all you can feel is warm skin and hard nipples through thin fabric while she whispers that “they” are out there. Monsters in the fog. Things that only really show when they attack. There’s this weird mix of fear and “holy shit, she’s cute” in your brain, and you kind of hate yourself for getting half hard while she’s talking about people being dragged away screaming. Later that night, when the fog presses against the windows and something sc*** at the door, you end up hiding under the same blanket with her, trying to keep quiet while her tits rub your arm every time she shivers. You know that feeling when your cock is rock solid but you’re also pretty sure something outside wants to eat your face? That.

The whole survival thing is pretty rough. You go out for supplies, watch the fog, check the woods, listen for that wet, distant growl that means “go the fuck back inside.” There’s this moment where you’re searching around the hut and walk into the bathroom, and she’s there, half undressed, washing off the dirt with a bucket, steam rising, hair stuck to her skin. For a second she freezes, then her eyes drop to your crotch, you both pretend you didn’t see, and nothing is said. But it sticks in your head all the time after. The more days you sc*** by, the more the tension builds. Sharing food, sharing the same cramped bed when the monsters are too close, her shifting her hips, her ass brushing you, trying to “sleep” while your cock is pressed between her thighs and she pretends not to notice. When more girls start showing up from the fog, each with their own way of dealing with the fear, the whole hut turns into this weird mix of bunker and horny pressure cooker. You’re trying to keep everyone alive, figure out what the hell that fog is, while at the same time getting dragged into long, breathless nights where someone ends up riding you to shut up their own terror, whimpering your name so loud you’re sure the monsters can hear.

This one feels like someone took a horny fashion week, locked it inside a demon brothel and then said “ok, now make it emotional but still fuck a lot.” The House itself is basically a luxury showroom where every corridor feels like a backstage runway right before the models go out, except the models are demons and humans trying to fuck their way to a Hall of Fame. I’m a lingerie designer by job, so I notice stupid things first. The first time you meet one of the girls, the way her outfit tells you exactly who she is before she speaks really hit me. Lace that looks innocent from far, but closer you see it barely hides anything. Straps that look decorative, but they sit exactly where a hand would grab during sex. Superpowers here are not just some menu choice, they feel like extra accessories on a body. Power is styled, not only written. You’re a demon with memories locked away and somehow the story still wants you to care about feelings while also asking you “ok, which pussy do you want tonight?” It should not work, but it kind of does. Or it doesn’t. I can’t decide.

The whole “performer” angle makes the sex feel like a show you’re also directing, not only watching. There’s a moment where one girl is trying so hard to impress you that she holds her pose longer than is actually sexy, like a model freezing for a bad photographer. She keeps her legs open, panting, waiting for your next choice, and there’s this tiny second where you see her doubt slip through the dirty talk. That tiny second is weirdly hotter than the actual vaginal sex that follows. Speaking of that, the game is not shy. Penetration is treated like something serious, not “and then dick goes in, fade to black.” You pick how you approach, how rough, how soft, and her reaction is not just one repeated moan file in your mind. She complains, she teases, she even gets annoyed at you once for stopping halfway and I liked that a lot. No, actually I hated it, because I had to reload to see another option and the menu font is too damn small and now I am angry again. Anyway. The House is all about “who pushes which button” and sometimes that is literal: there are choices that feel like pressing a nipple, or sliding two fingers between lace and skin. The game pretends to care about your mission to save someone important, but every time a girl leans in, whispers in your ear, offers you her throat and her thighs, the whole grand destiny thing disappears like last season’s collection. Which is fine. Or not. I actually forgot to talk about the harem side, but you already know what that means. You start thinking “I’ll stay loyal to this one broken, beautiful demon” and two scenes later you are balls deep in someone else, promising her she is special too. And the thing is, the House believes you. That’s what sticks after closing the tab: all these women styled like living lingerie, each one trying to be your favorite outfit, while you pretend you’re choosing with your heart and not with your cock.

It’s weird how this game keeps slipping between being horny and being kinda sad. Like one moment you’re scavenging a half-broken supermarket for canned beans, and the next you’re watching Tiffany bend over in that torn tank top, and you *know* the camera’s doing it on purpose. I thought it’d be just another zombie clicker thing, but then it starts poking at your nerves. You play as Mark, but you’re not really him, because half the time you’re watching what happens when he’s gone. It’s uncomfortable but also… hot? I don’t know. The animations are surprisingly smooth, not glossy, more like something someone obsessed over too long in a dark room. Her skin looks sticky in the flashlight. The moans sound too close, like she’s right next to your ear, whispering something you shouldn’t hear.

I wasn’t expecting the teasing parts to be so drawn out. There’s this bit where Alex “accidentally” touches her thigh, and you can tell she notices but pretends not to. Then later, the game just lets you wander around while that tension sits there, heavy. I thought I’d hate the sandbox thing, but it actually makes it worse - like you’re the one choosing to look away or not. The monsters outside barely matter after a while; they just groan in the background, a reminder that everything’s falling apart while something even messier happens inside. There’s a scene with oral that I didn’t think would hit me, but it’s messy and awkward and somehow more real than most. I wish the sound balance wasn’t so off though, the wet noises drown out the dialogue sometimes. Maybe that’s on purpose.

It’s not pretty, but that’s what makes it stick. The game doesn’t care if you feel guilty. It kind of wants you to. I kept thinking I’d stop after one more scene, but then I’d catch a glimpse of Tiffany walking past a broken window, the light hitting her skin just right, and I’d forget whatever I was supposed to be doing.

Second year at Wentford is supposed to be about skipping lectures, half‑assed lab reports and maybe getting laid at some drunk dorm party if you’re lucky. Instead, you blow up one after‑class experiment, wake up with a dick, tits, curves and a body that can’t decide if it wants to be the heroine of a romance VN or the main attraction of Pornhub’s weirdest search page. The game throws you right into that “oh shit” feeling: you’re still you, same memories, same best friend from childhood, same crushes, but now every shower, every locker room, every crowded hallway in campus hits different. People you knew look at you in a new way. Some stare. Some pretend they don’t, then you catch them in the mirror. The whole vibe is “I’m not supposed to be turned on by this” while you’re very obviously turned on by this. It’s funny too, in that stupid meme way. The script has dumb jokes about bad chemistry puns, Dragon Ball references that are slightly wrong on purpose, and horny banter that actually sounds like Discord chat, not like some old dude trying to write “modern youth”. One moment you’re trying to figure out your schedule, next moment your professor bends over the desk and your new dick has its own plans. There is this scene in the lab, where you try to hide a raging futa boner behind a clipboard while your best friend talks about reaction yields, and the animation focuses on her lips way more than on the glassware. It’s not subtle. At all.

Sex stuff ramps up slowly if you want, then suddenly you’re juggling a horny roommate with big tits who “accidentally” walks around in a crop top, a milf neighbor who brings you homemade cookies and checks your “recovery”, and a bunch of girls at campus who think you’re the coolest freak accident ever. Sometimes it’s soft and romantic, kissing in the rain near the dorms, slow handjob in the dark, quiet little I‑love‑you that feels too real. Then next route it’s you buried between a thick ass and a pillow, watching your own cock slide into someone while another girl sits on your face, and you’re like, yeah ok, this escalated. There is lesbian stuff, there is full futa on girl pounding, there is anal that starts with teasing and ends with a messy creampie where you didn’t expect it, there is even that one scene where you get a footjob on the couch while another girl pretends to watch Netflix on her phone. Animations are short loops but they hit the right spots: hips rolling, cum spurts, tongue on clit, subtle ass jiggle. I like that they show the body transformation not just as “haha now you’re hot” but as corruption too. Your choices push you toward being caring and romantic, or a voyeur creep spying through doors, or a jealous cheater who fucks someone raw then still goes home to cuddle another girl like nothing happened. The interracial stuff slips in like it’s no big deal, which I personally like, but some people might want more build‑up there. I kinda wish the school parts had more actual studying, more chemistry puzzles or something, but who am I kidding, nobody loads an eroge for balanced academia. I opened it “just to check it out” on my phone, next thing I know I’m doing route math in a Google Keep note and replaying that scene where your best friend slowly goes from shy curiosity to grinding on your lap in the dorm chair. And there was something I wanted to say about titfucking in the bathroom stall, but now I’m thinking about the corrupted version of that same girl later, when she offers herself to a whole group like it’s totally natural, and I forgot what my point was. Anyway, the game is one long, horny identity crisis with big asses, big choices and that special kind of campus chaos where every door you open might have someone masturbating behind it, including you.