New town, new job, new giant horny mess. The whole thing starts with you dragging your tired ass into this weirdly serious pharma company, Palmer-Pharma, while every single woman around you looks like she escaped from a “thick and dangerous” catalog. The boss wants to see you on Sunday, which already screams “this is not about paperwork, honey,” your phone is gone, you barely know where you sleep tonight, and then you meet your landlady with hips that could cause traffic accidents. Game’s like: welcome, you are stressed, lost, and also surrounded by big tits and asses that do not believe in subtlety. Real HR problem, but in a fun way.

Once you start moving around town, it turns into this slow, horny tour of every curvy grown woman in a ten-mile radius. None of that barely-legal nonsense, these are women who pay bills, remember your schedule, and still somehow have time to pin you to the sofa and jerk you off while complaining about their ex. One moment you’re talking about lab procedures with the assistant who pretends to be all serious, glasses and clipboard, and next thing, she’s teasing you with that “oh, is that for me?” look, brushing her hand over your bulge and pretending it’s an accident. The receptionist? She switches from snarky gatekeeper to “I locked the door, now sit on this chair and don’t talk” while she kneels between your legs and takes her sweet time with her mouth. And she does that thing where she stops right before you cum, smiles, then goes back like she’s tasting wine. That detail annoyed me in the best way and I swear I’m still mad about it. I’m also still thinking about that barmaid, the one who hands you a drink, leans over the counter with her huge boobs almost falling out, and spends five minutes just playing with your self-control. Like, she’ll casually press her soft belly against you on the way past, whisper something filthy in your ear, then pretend she said nothing. The scenes go from handjobs on sagging couches, lazy morning oral with messy hair and no makeup, to hard, slow vaginal sex where the camera really loves the jiggle, the folds, the way big asses move when you’re deep inside. It’s not shy about any of it. There are choices everywhere, which you will totally forget about because your brain has turned into “which thick woman do I fuck today” mode, but those choices actually branch out into different scenes and endings, so your horny indecision has consequences. Also, I keep thinking about that one tiny animation where the landlady adjusts her top after you finish on her chest, like she gives this little “ugh, men” smile, wipes it with a tissue, and I spent far too long replaying that instead of doing literally anything useful. Anyway. The whole thing feels like you got dropped into a town where every chubby, soft, mature woman secretly wants to either mother you a bit, or ride you until you forget your name, sometimes both in the same scene, and yes, it’s a mess, but it’s my kind of mess.

Galactic Athletes feels like someone mashed together the Olympic Games, a horny soap opera, and that one locker room fantasy you never told your therapist about. You play as Finn, a new medic at Thebes Sporting Complex, and on paper his job is to keep all these huge, ripped, very not shy athletes healthy. In practice he spends a lot of time with a tablet in his hand, a hard-on in his pants, and a boss who basically tells him: “Guess who wins, guess who loses, or you’re screwed.” The twist is beautiful in a stupid way: every event ends with the winner fucking the guy who comes last. Gold medal equals top. Last place equals fresh, sweaty bottom. Sports science meets porn logic, and somehow it makes sense while you play.

The whole thing runs like a horny prediction game inside a visual novel. You move through event schedules, medical checkups, locker room talks, post-match “therapy” sessions. Before each event you look at the athletes, listen to their cocky bragging, check their conditions, and try to guess who’s going to take first and who’s going to eat the dust, and then eat something else later. There was this one javelin scene where I totally misread a shy, lanky guy, thought he would choke under pressure, marked him as last. Then he absolutely destroyed the field, turned around with this smug little smile, and later I had to watch him pin a muscle monster to the bench and grind him into it while Finn stands there trying to pretend he’s taking clinical notes. That moment hurt my ego more than it should, but I still rewatched it twice. For “research.” The sex scenes don’t feel like some random gallery you click through. They are chained directly to how you read those guys, how you interpret their bodies, their nerves, their stamina. If you fuck up your predictions, somebody else gets fucked, and not in the way you hoped, which is somehow worse than losing in a normal game. And yeah, it calls itself a league, but the whole setting feels closer to ancient Greek mythology fanfic where Zeus opened a gay gym and never invented clothes. I know Thebes is from Greek tragedies, but here it’s basically a giant sex clinic with running tracks.

What I enjoy most is how the game treats the athletes like horny gods and also idiots at the same time. They are tall, thick-chested, thighs like tree trunks, and there is zero shame about how much attention is on their cocks, their asses, the way sweat sticks to body hair. You get these surprisingly tender moments too, like one sprinter limping in after a bad run, Finn icing his leg, both of them talking about pressure and fear, and then five minutes later the same guy is buck naked, bent over a massage table, groaning while the new league champion pushes in slowly, and Finn is on the side trying to judge if this counts as “recovery protocol.” I wish the game actually punished wrong predictions harder sometimes, like really lock you into awkward pairings and force you to watch your least favorite guy get topped over and over, just to be cruel, but it kind of plays nice with you in a way that doesn’t match how brutal sports can be. Still, you get that nice balance where sometimes you are genuinely reading their psychology, like “he’s too confident, he will blow his load early,” and sometimes you just pick the one whose ass you want to see ruined. It pretends to be about strategy, then laughs and shows you two sweaty men going at it against the wall of the locker room while towels slowly slide off the hooks. It’s all gay, all the time, and proudly so, like old-school bara doujin met a modern queer sports anime and they got very drunk together. I opened it thinking “ok, just some porn with medals,” and somehow ended up caring who makes Champion’s league and who falls into Redemption league hell, which to be honest, is where all the best fucking happens anyway.

Elizabeth Barton is the kind of redhead your brain keeps replaying when you should answer emails. Middle of her life, big tits that make blouses look like they’re about to file a complaint, tight business skirts, that “I know what I’m doing and I know you’re looking” vibe. She runs this clothing franchise like a boss, but the game doesn’t treat her like some cold power woman. She’s messy, horny, insecure in the little ways that feel too real. One minute she’s calculating sales, the next she’s staring at herself in the mirror in her office, hand sliding under the waistband, pretending the security cameras can’t see shit. They can’t. Probably.

Then Holly just dumps her daughter on her. That’s where the summer gets weird. Jessica walks in like trouble in short shorts, that mix of brat and lonely girl, the kind where you know she’s going to push every line because nobody’s watching her close enough. The game really leans into that slow-burn teasing. First it’s small stuff. Liz catching Jessica lying on the couch, legs open a bit too wide, phone in hand, watching some guy rail a girl on Pornhub with the volume almost off but not quite. You have this tiny choice: pretend you didn’t hear the moans or make a joke that is way too adult for an “aunt.” Both feel bad in a good way. And because it uses multiple protagonist, you jump into Jessica’s head after that scene and realize she noticed the stare, liked it, and then goes to her room to masturbate with her earphones in, replaying that half-second of eye contact.

The game’s sex content is filthy in a slow, adult way, not just “click to see boobs.” You get lesbian tension between Liz and some older MILF customer who comes in for “help with sizing” and very obviously wants Liz on her knees between the dresses rack. There’s this oral scene in the stockroom with a Black delivery guy that hits that interracial porn energy without turning him into a stupid caricature, which surprised me. Liz acts like it’s a one-time mistake and then checks the delivery schedule twice a day. At the same time, you might push her toward cheating in a more emotional way: late-night messages, hand under the table scenes, her rubbing her thighs together when her “partner” sends her a dick pic during a family dinner. Sometimes the cheating is only in her head, sometimes you fully go for it and watch her swallow and then go home like nothing happened.

And Jessica isn’t just some side prop. When you play from her POV, she’s got all this pent-up bi curiosity. The way she looks at Liz is part “aunt” and part “woman with big ass who clearly knows how to fuck,” which is… yeah. There’s a sequence where Jessica borrows Liz’s blouse, doesn’t wear a bra, then does a little private stripping in Liz’s bedroom mirror, grinding on a pillow, imagining Liz walking in. You can later nudge the story so that Liz actually does walk in during a different “accident” and the look they share is way hotter than half of the full-on sex scenes. That’s the good stuff. And the office scenes, holy shit. Doing boring stock numbers on a laptop while there’s a vibrator inside, trying to stay professional on a video call while clenching? It hits different when the character is a businesswoman who’s supposed to act all proper. I wish the phone UI in-game wasn’t so clunky, notifications sometimes pop in weird timing and broke my mood once, but then Liz bent over to pick something and her skirt rode up and my brain just deleted the complaint.

By the time lesbian scenes start to properly bloom, like Liz and a regular customer sharing wine after closing time in the fitting room, slow kissing, one hand under the shirt, one between thighs, licking like they’ve been thinking about it since the first discount coupon, it feels earned. Not rushed. And when the game flips back to Jessica alone in her room, watching lesbian porn on her phone, trying to match the rhythm, moaning into the pillow so Liz doesn’t hear… that contrast is nasty in the best way. Nothing in this story feels safe. People are always one drink, one late shift, one “accidental” touch on the big tits away from blowing up their boring lives. It’s that quiet tension of a long summer where everyone is horny, pretending they’re not, while the clothing store, the house, even the fitting rooms feel like they’re soaked in sex already.

Hormones fried, brain confused, dick not really listening to the usual rules. That is basically the mood of this game. You’re this guy whose body decided to become a walking sex bomb and at the same time forget how arousal is supposed to work. Not in a sad, medical-drama way, more like “I’m cursed with endless cum and zero common sense” kind of way. The doctor takes one look at you, gives that professional smile that is absolutely not professional, and suddenly her “treatment” is a lot more tongue, hand, and thigh than actual medicine. The nurse is even worse. She pretends she cares about your health, but she’s leaning over you with her tits halfway out, scribbling notes while your dick is right there, aching under the sheet, and she just “accidentally” brushes it with her glove. Animated scenes make it very clear she knows what she’s doing. There is one exam where she’s supposed to check your reflexes, but the only thing jumping is your cock in her fist while she talks like nothing is happening.

Back home, you have the housemate situation. She calls herself the most important person in your life and then gives you this whole speech about never crossing the forbidden line. Two minutes later she walks through the living room in high heels and a tiny shirt with no bra, stretches right in front of the couch, and asks you if your “condition” hurts right now. You can go soft and respectful, or you can start using that condition as a tool. Male domination, sleep stuff, straight up groping while she naps on your lap, all of that is there. One scene that stuck with me: she crashes in your bed, totally exhausted, hugging your pillow. The guide in your phone starts buzzing with “steps” you can follow, and suddenly you’re sliding your hand under her shorts, testing the water, listening to her little sleepy moans while you decide if you stop or keep going. The voyeur side comes in hard too. Bathroom doors not fully closed, a “mommy” figure in tight dress and heels bending over the sink, you peeking from the hallway, phone in hand, your other hand busy. Later, you’re not just watching, you’re fucking her from behind in the same spot, her ass bouncing, big tits pressed to the cold ceramic while she whispers that this is wrong and still pushes back on you.

The fun thing is that it’s not just random scenes thrown together. There is this “guide” that feels half evil mentor, half porn coach. It messages you, teases you, tells you exactly what to try next to push every relationship just a little further past normal. One day it’s “try a simple handjob, keep her awake, let her pretend she’s only helping your illness”. Another day it literally encourages you to test how deep you can go while she’s pretending to sleep, your cock sliding inside a warm, wet pussy that keeps clenching even though she “doesn’t know”. Creampies become this reward system, like you’re marking your territory on your growing harem: doctor with cum on her tongue after forced “oral examination”, the strict older woman with semen dripping down her thighs as she glares at you, your “little angel” hiding your load inside her after she swore she would never let it happen. It’s all 3D-style visuals, with good focus on curves, soft skin, big tits that actually move when you grip them, and enough detail in the eyes that when they look up at you during a blowjob, it feels more intense than it probably should for a browser game. Best way to enjoy it? Don’t rush. Let the slow teasing do its thing, check your phone scenes, push just a bit more every time, and when the game offers you a choice between being gentle and being a total bastard, try the bad options at least once. You’ll see why.