Girlfriend says she’s going out “just for a drink” with that guy from work you already hate, and the game basically asks: alright, what happens to the loser who stays at home? You. You’re the loser. The whole thing plays in that super awkward space between horny and pathetic, where you keep hoping it will turn into some nice comforting porn and it just doesn’t. Instead, the mutual friend shows up to “keep you company” and it turns into this slow, almost playful destruction of your self-esteem, one joke at a time. It feels less like a porn fantasy and more like you accidentally opened your own humiliation diary in interactive form.

What I liked is how normal everything starts. She walks in like it’s nothing, kicks her shoes off, throws some casual line about how she “can’t believe she left you alone like this” and within five clicks she’s already poking at your ego. Not with dramatic dialogue, but with that light, social-media kind of bullying. She casually asks about your size like it’s small talk, laughs, changes the subject, comes back to it again later like she just remembered, and you realize she is doing it on purpose. The game leans really hard into that “friendly teasing” that stops being friendly very soon. There’s a moment where she pulls up her phone, shows you a picture, and just waits. No timer, no QTE, just silence. And the whole humiliation is in how long you stare before you click. Honestly that one hit harder than all the dirty lines.

The “minigame” pieces are tiny but they work. One scene you’re trying to tap in rhythm while she’s reading messages your girlfriend is sending from the date, and if you miss too much she just comments how your hands are as useless as your dick. Another part has this little reflex game where you try to cover yourself, fail, and she just laughs and compares you to the guy your girlfriend is with. Nothing super original on its own, but the tone is what sells it. It’s joking, then cruel, then joking again, and you kind of never know when she goes too far. I actually got distracted by checking Discord during one scene, came back, and she had “waited” for me with a new line about how even in a porn game you can’t focus. That’s the kind of stupid detail I remember more than the actual sex, which says a lot. Porn-wise, it’s not about variety, it’s about how small, weak and replaceable the game keeps telling you that you are. If you’re into being the absolute bottom of the food chain while your girlfriend is out having a real man’s night, this is basically a long, cruel inside joke directed at you.

Plague in the kingdom, king on his throne shitting himself in fear, and you, the poor bastard who has to walk into a cursed forest with a cute elf wife who is way too good for you. That is the whole mood of Cursed Forest Quest – you are technically the hero, but it always feels like the story is asking what happens if the hero is soft, horny, and just a bit unlucky. Vallabelle, your elven wife, is the kind priestess type with huge tits, a perfect ass that does not make physical sense for an elf, and a smile that makes you think “ok, she is totally loyal, it’s fine” while the game quietly laughs in the background. The early scenes sell this perfect couple thing hard: sharing a campfire, she heals your wounds, teases you with a slow handjob as a reward for surviving the day, rides you with that soft priestess moaning, and you think, alright, wholesome, I can relax. Then the forest basically says, no, fuck you, this is a cursed land, and starts poking that little insecurity in your brain every time some other guy looks at her for more than two seconds.

What I liked too much, embarrassingly, is how the game uses “small” moments to kick you in the balls. For example, first time you get to a ruined shrine, there is a choice: go search for relics, or send Vallabelle to talk with the local spirit while you check the perimeter. I just clicked through, not thinking, checked a bush that had literally nothing important, and when I came back, the scene cut to Vallabelle slightly flushed, her robe messed up, her tits kind of out, spirit fading away, and her going “it’s fine, just a blessing.” That moment stuck in my head longer than the full-on vaginal scenes. Not even a big animation there, only small touches, like her avoiding eye contact. Later on there is an actual animated scene with her getting pounded against a forest altar, ass bouncing, moans way louder than anything she ever did for you, and that felt almost less cruel than that earlier half-harassment vibe, where you are not sure what happened but your dick and your stomach both react. By the way, the spanking stuff is weirdly casual here. Sometimes you get to spank her playfully as a “punishment” for teasing you in front of a guard, and she giggles and presses that big ass into your hand. Another time, some other guy does a very similar smack, and suddenly the camera lingers way too long, and she bites her lip in a way she never did for you. I hated that. I also replayed that branch three times to see if her expression changes with different quest choices. It barely does, which somehow turns me on more. The game likes to pretend you have control with all the quests and paths, and yeah, there are multiple endings and all, but honestly half the fun is realizing you clicked yourself into a timeline where you are basically watching your own wife get more “blessed” by the forest than cured. I wish there was a path where you could fully stay pure and keep her untouched, but also I really don’t, and it will never happen anyway.

Guy just wants some cold air and maybe a drink, ends up trapped in the quietest, horniest little horror-comedy grocery store on earth. That’s the vibe here. You walk in, sun burning your brain, and suddenly the outside world just kind of... blinks out. The door locks, shelves feel slightly wrong, lights flicker like they’re trying to flirt, and there she is behind the counter: tiny goth clerk with a stare like she already knows exactly how weak you are. Not the cliché latex dominatrix thing, more like “sleep-deprived art major who could crush your soul with one sarcastic comment” mixed with “MILF energy in training,” if that makes sense. Big tits under a cheap t‑shirt, jeans, zero effort styling, but somehow she looks like a walking fetish ad that forgot to be subtle.

The weird part is, nothing technically “happens.” No actual sex, no naked bodies flying around, nobody jumping your dick. It’s all edging, all mind games, like the game is blueballing you on purpose and laughing. She’ll lean over the counter just a little too far, bend down to grab something so her ass lines up perfectly with your eyes, stretch like she’s in a yoga ad, then act like you’re the creep for looking. She calls you out for every tiny reaction, every stolen glance, like she’s reading your browser history in real time. At one point she casually drops a line about how “guys like you are easy to rewire” and the screen does this tiny flicker and yeah, you feel it. Not jump scare, more like you skipped a frame in your own head. You’re not sure if she’s hypnotic or just really good at gaslighting, but you start clicking through lines faster, waiting for some kind of payoff that never quite lands. It’s a kinetic novel, so no choices, no branches, you’re just strapped into her vibe. That’s kinda annoying and kinda perfect. You keep thinking “ok, next scene she’s gonna finally do something,” and instead she just mocks you, teases harder, leans in with that bored stare and explains exactly how she could make you crawl with a single word. Then nothing. Then a joke. Then she looks straight at you again and tells you you’re breathing too loud.

What got me is how the voyeurism hits without any peepholes or secret cams. You’re just there, stuck, watching her do normal clerk stuff while she very obviously watches you watching her. It flips around, like you become the thing on display. She wipes down the counter real slow, checks her phone, pops gum, types something you can’t see, then smiles in that “yeah, I just changed something in your brain” way. At one point she makes you read signs on the wall, stupid boring rules, but the text starts feeling like commands, like she’s training a dog. She never raises her voice, never goes full “kneel, worm” mode, but you still feel dominated, like your dick is on a leash you can’t see. The humor is messed up in a good way too; she’ll roast your porn tastes, call out your search terms, then switch to dead-serious for two lines and talk about control and consent like a late-night TED talk in a haunted 7‑Eleven, then immediately ask if you’re thirsty. Zero subtle transition. The art is rough but kinda perfect for it, she’s cute and a little off-model from scene to scene, which almost sells the idea your memory is being edited. There’s no big climax, no “and then you bang her” scene, it just leaves you horny, slightly confused, and lowkey worried she’s going to show up in your dreams and make you apologize for scrolling Twitter during the dialogue.

You wake up broke, horny, and back in your old room that still smells a bit like teenage shame and cheap body spray, and the game just kind of grins and says, “yeah, this is where it starts.” You’re this young psychology guy who thought he had life sorted, then it all collapses and you crawl back to mom’s house. Only mom isn’t just “mom” anymore. She’s this thick, soft, dangerous kind of beautiful, the kind that makes your eyes slide over her curves against your will. She walks around the house in clothes that hug her huge tits and that insane ass in a way no actual mother should, bending over the couch while you pretend to look away and fail every single time. The camera loves her, almost too much. It lingers on the subtle stuff, the underwear line digging into her hips, the way her nipple outline threatens to show when she moves. You’re supposed to feel guilty. You don’t. Or you do, but it just makes your dick harder. It’s that kind of story.

Then there are the sisters, and yeah, the game knows exactly what it’s doing. The older one moves like a witch who realized she can control a room just by existing. Goth clothes, dark nails that look like they’d hurt when she scratches your back, eyes that tell you she thinks you’re trash but her body keeps betraying her, slower each day. There’s this moment where you “accidentally” walk in while she’s bent over her desk in fishnets, headphones in, skirt just not quite long enough, and the main character just stands there too long while you feel his thoughts going places they absolutely shouldn’t. Later, when the hypnosis angle really kicks in, watching her resist you with this mix of hatred and arousal, hips still grinding in spite of her words, that’s where the corruption hits harder than any sex scene. She spits insults while she rides your cock, then trembles when you ask her who owns that tight ass now, and her voice breaks on the answer. It’s fucked up. It’s hot. It’s both at once. The younger sister is the opposite weather: all pastel pink, soft hair, candy wrappers, plush toys, girly socks that should not look so good wrapped around your waist. She trusts you way too much. She curls against you during a movie, her small tits brushing your arm, and the game slows the moment just enough that you feel that sharp, dirty edge when your hand lingers longer than it should on her thigh. Later, with the mind control, teaching her to touch herself on command, watching her bite her lip while she obeys, that’s the point where “romance” and “corruption” almost merge into this twisted little love story that you’re not sure you’re supposed to enjoy so much.

The hypnotherapist is the real doorway drug. Mom’s friend, older but still tight where it counts, eyes that see too much and voice that rolls over you like warm honey. You sit in her office as “assistant,” pretending to take notes while she drops other women into deep trance, fingers playing with their minds and their bodies at the same time, and you’re there, hard under the desk, memorizing every word, every pattern. There’s a point when she leans down behind a patient and guides the girl’s mouth on a toy, whispering triggers, and your brain just goes click. After that, going home feels different. Sleeping bodies don’t feel safe anymore. The game leans into sleep sex in a way that’s almost too intimate. Like, you stand over your mom’s bed at night, listening to her slow breathing, watching her tits rise and fall under the thin fabric, and one tiny suggestion you planted earlier makes her legs spread a little. She mumbles your name in her sleep while you slide your hand under her panties and the guilt is there, but it’s distant, like a voice behind glass. Same with the sisters, those late-night scenes where the younger one is half-asleep, squirming and moaning softly as your fingers tease her soaked slit, or the older one clenching around your cock in her sleep, cursing you in her dreams while her body begs for more. The game doesn’t flinch from that dirty intimacy. It loves deepthroats that go too far, tears at the corner of her eyes, spit and mascara mess. It loves big tits bouncing while you fuck them, cocks sliding between them until you paint her chest white. It loves asses, god, the asses: thick ebony hips, mom’s juicy milf curves, your sister’s perfect goth bubble butt stretched around your shaft when you finally push into her tight hole and she squirts all over the sheets. Anal, vaginal, titfucks, creampies that drip out slowly while she walks around the house pretending nothing happened. Sex toys buzzing between thighs, collars and ropes appearing on the “good girl” routes that still somehow pretend to be romantic. There’s a weird tenderness under all that filth too, like when you watch your own cum slowly swell inside a belly on the pregnancy scenes, or when a character you’ve completely twisted still smiles at you like you’re her whole world. It’s wrong. It’s beautiful in a fucked way. It feels like you’re building a harem out of people who were once your family, your patients, your lovers, turning them into obedient, wet puppets and devoted partners at the same time, and the game just lets you keep going, deeper, softer, nastier, never really asking you to justify any of it. I just wish the text messages inside the game didn’t use that ugly default pop-up style, it pulls you out for a second, but then somebody drops to their knees, takes you so deep they choke, and suddenly you forget you were annoyed at all.