Foggy forest, quiet as hell, and you’re lost with a hard-on you don’t want to admit you have. That’s pretty much the mood here. The trees feel wrong in that fairy-tale way, like they’re watching, but not in a horror movie thing, more like they’re just waiting for you to do something stupid and horny. Then this witch shows up, and she doesn’t look like the usual “I cast fireball” witch. She’s got that lazy smile that says she already knows what you’re going to click, and she smells like a toy store mixed with a bath bomb shop. Latex, sugar, soap, that weird clean-but-not-innocent vibe. The game doesn’t rush to shout what you’re in for, but yeah, if you’re into inflatables and transformation and that floaty, rubbery ownership of a body that stops being flesh and turns into a damn balloon, it hits that itch pretty directly.

The cool part is how low-key everything starts. It’s just you poking around her little forest corner, clicking stuff, poking at bottles, weird trinkets, that sort of thing. Half of it feels like background junk until you notice something reacts if you try again, or if you did another scene before. There was this moment where I accidentally triggered a change too early, and my character’s body started filling out, tight and squeaky, and I actually paused, staring at my screen like, “ok, I did not expect it to jump to that this fast.” The game is short, yeah, but it doesn’t waste your kinks. The inflation is not just “you get bigger.” It’s that slow, pressurised feeling in the text and art, the witch teasing you, almost casual about turning your body into her private float, testing how much air or magic you can hold. She treats the whole thing like a cozy craft project, while you’re the one struggling with how round you’re getting. It’s a weird mix of mystery and fetish, and I like that it doesn’t apologize for it even once. You’re not playing a hero, you’re playing a future decoration, and she knows it way before you do.

The forest itself is small, but it feels like one of those “hidden room” games where there’s always one last strange item you haven’t clicked in the right order. I spent way too long clicking the same damn stump because I was convinced it had a secret, and honestly I’m still annoyed it didn’t. But while I was being stubborn, I kept noticing little reactions: the witch’s comments changing, the way she hints at other “guests” she inflated before, maybe still around, maybe not in the shape you expect. There’s magic everywhere, but it’s that squishy, rubber-magic. You’re not slinging spells; you’re more like the spell result. A toy, a trophy, an experiment. The furry angle sneaks in too, with those hints that your body isn’t only filling with air, it’s shifting into something cutesy, animal-ish, then more object than creature. Ears, tail, then plastic sheen, then hollow. It’s honestly hot as hell if you’re into losing control and becoming a thing instead of a person. And the best part, or the worst, depending on your brain, is that the witch never seems cruel. She’s playful, almost seasonal, like some twisted holiday hostess inviting you to become part of the decorations, tucked between the trees, gleaming under moonlight, filled tight and waiting. You kind of know from the beginning this forest is not a place you walk out of on your own feet. You’re rolling, floating, squeaking your way out, if you leave at all.