This thing feels like some filthy cross between a fitness log, a diary, and a dare you drunkenly agreed to on WhatsApp and then… actually have to go through with. You start as this classic golden boy, right? Good body, pretty girl, nice job, smug smile. I see guys like this in the VIP seats at my club, thinking they run the world. Here, the game goes, “ok hotshot, you think you’re all that? Change everything.” And the crazy part is, the game doesn’t just slap boobs on you and say done. It slowly peels your life apart through these little text scenes where you have to decide how far you bend for this weird contest. At first it’s simple. Clothes, makeup, hair. I was thinking, yeah yeah, I do this faster in a dressing room before a show. Then it starts poking at your job, your pride, your muscles, the way people look at you in the locker room. And suddenly I’m sitting here, reading this tiny line like “you adjust your sports bra after the run” and my brain goes oh. Oh. Okay. We’re deep now.

The writing is messy in that way I kind of like: sometimes a sentence feels too long, some phrases repeat, a couple of scenes feel like the author was horny and in a rush. But it fits. This isn’t some polished AAA epic. It feels like a horny challenge someone cooked up between gym sessions and porn tabs, trying to mix fetish and feelings. One moment you’re picking what kind of bra to wear to training and I’m literally picturing how I’d spin around a pole in that, what angle the tits would bounce for the front row. Next moment, you’re at work trying not to blush or get caught staring at your own reflection, and it’s weirdly hot and awkward. The choices actually matter more than I expected. Pick the more “sensible” option and the story leans one way, pick the slutty fun one and the whole vibe shifts. There’s a scene where you decide if you go full try-hard in a sports contest while already half feminized, or you lean into the “cute mascot” thing, and I swear it felt like picking my stage persona: do I go ice queen, or hungry kitten. Also, the contest itself is kind of stupid in the best way. Like some fetish subreddit fantasy turned into a life sim. Sometimes the pacing is off, like a long build up and then the payoff is one short paragraph and you want more filthy details, more sweat, more humiliation. But then another scene will suddenly get very tender about how your body feels after training, how your new curves ache, and it hits harder than it should. I kept imagining choreography from half the scenes, like ok, this dressing room transformation? That’s a chair dance. That office “trying to pretend everything is normal”? That’s slow strip with a tight blouse. And the final twist of being this “perfect girl” for a prize you’re not even sure you want anymore… yeah, that one would need a whole burlesque act, lights down, slow reveal, everybody watching you turn around and realize you’re not faking it.