Misty always looked a bit too innocent on my old Game Boy screen, and this thing takes that memory, rips it open, and fucks right through it. Here she’s still the redhead gym girl with the smug little attitude, but the story pretends there are “secret water training techniques” that totally just mean she has to pay for losing a battle with her body. No bullshit, the whole setup is basically: you lost, you either hand over your Pokémon or you spread your legs and take what’s coming. Guess which one the game cares about. It starts almost soft, with her trying to act all proud and stubborn, small tits pushed out, shorts hanging tight on her hips, promising she won’t back down. Then the camera cuts closer, you see her eyes shake when the guy pulls out this stupidly big cock that clearly doesn’t fit anywhere, and it suddenly feels like every “kid-safe” memory of the anime just got dragged into a dirty back alley behind some cheap internet café.

What got me was how they play with her expression when the actual penetration starts. There is this one moment, when he pushes into her pussy for the first time, and she’s half biting her lip, half trying not to cry out. Not fake hentai moaning, but that messy mix of “this hurts” and “I’m so fucking turned on and I hate that I am”. Fingers working her first, sliding between her legs, opening her up, while she keeps glancing at her pokéball like she’s hoping it will just magically save her. It doesn’t. You get these close-ups of his fingers glistening, then suddenly he rams into her and her whole body arches, her small chest bouncing in this almost awkward way that somehow feels more real than big anime balloons. At one point he flips her for anal and she tries to crawl away on her hands and knees, and he just grabs her hips and pulls her back onto him. That first push into her ass is brutal, her mouth wide open, no sound for a second, then that broken little gasp. I swear I paused there once, not because it was too much, but because I wanted to see every tiny muscle in her face trying to decide if this is shame or pleasure.

And yeah, it gets nastier. He uses her like a training tool. Quick thrusts, slow thrusts, pulls out to smack his cock on her flushed little pussy lips, then shoves it back in, while she’s begging him not to cum inside, which of course he absolutely does. Cum dripping out of her, then another round, then he goes for the face. The final facial is just straight up filthy: thick white mess all over her cheeks, nose, even caught in her eyelashes, while she pants and blinks like she can’t see shit. A bit of it lands on her hair too, that bright orange-red now streaked with semen, and she just looks wrecked. Not broken, not “I’m secretly loving it” in some goofy anime way, more like “I’ll remember this fight every time I hold a pokéball.” It’s rough, it’s horny, it doesn’t pretend to be romantic or fair. Just Misty pushed into a corner and fucked from every angle until her pride, and pretty much everything else, is dripping.

Matsuda looks like that guy you see on LinkedIn who has everything: sharp suit, neat hair, arrogant little smile that says “partner track”. In this game, you slide into his skin and realize pretty fast that all that polished surface hides a man who never actually lived. He sold his youth, his hobbies, his stupid crushes, all of it, just to grind cases and billable hours. Now he finally has the big salary, the fancy apartment, and this seriously gorgeous wife with curves that just make you stop and stare, and that’s exactly where everything starts to rot from the inside. You don’t play a hero here. You play a man who realizes he might be losing the only thing that actually matters, and he notices it when her skirt gets shorter, her lipstick gets darker, and her eyes don’t stay on him anymore.

The whole thing feels quiet at first, like a small crack. She leans over the table and that ass just fills your view, and you get this little text from her: “Going out with friends tonight.” You know that’s nothing, right? Just friends. But the game keeps pushing tiny moments on you. A lingering smell of cheap male cologne when she hugs you. Her phone lighting up, and she turns it face down too fast. She comes home late, hair messed, stockings a bit torn, complaining she’s “tired” and falls straight into bed without letting you touch those ridiculous tits that used to bounce for you on the couch. Audible’s open on your phone but you’re not listening; you’re just staring at her from the hallway wondering who’s making her moan now. You start noticing how the camera loves her body more than it loves yours. Her hips, the soft way her breasts spill out of a half-buttoned shirt, the tiny wet marks that sometimes show on her panties when she thinks you’re not looking. At one point there is this scene where she is standing at the balcony, texting, and the text choices you get are things like “Ask gently” or “Pretend you don’t care”, and whichever you pick, it still feels like your balls are slowly being crushed. Sex still happens, but it’s different. She rides you with her mind somewhere else, biting her lip like she’s replaying something someone else did to her. You can feel every second of that. The game is not shy at all with the physical stuff. You see the way her ass jiggles when another man grabs her, the way she opens her legs in a car seat that is clearly not yours, the detail when she’s finally getting pounded and you’re not even in the room. Sometimes you just sit there, clicking, watching her get her pussy stretched and soaked by someone who doesn’t even know her middle name, and the worst part is how the protagonist still calls her “my wife” like that means anything. The scenes hit harder because they don’t always scream about it; sometimes the most brutal moment is just her walking past you with that freshly fucked glow on her skin, smelling like sweat and sex that is not yours, and you know exactly what she’s been doing without one word being said. It’s mean. It’s hot. It’s miserable. It’s the kind of story that leaves you half hard, half sick, staring at your screen like, “Yeah, I would still forgive her.”

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