A husband, a stupid fight, and that sick feeling in your gut when you suddenly notice how short your own shadow looks next to another guy’s. That is basically where this story sits, grinning at you. You follow this poor bastard of a husband who starts the evening thinking he is “the man of the house” and ends up wondering if his wife is getting her pussy filled by somebody taller, thicker, and a lot more confident. The game plays like a teasing lecture about NTR, but not in a cold way. It is like a drunk friend whispering in your ear, “You see that guy talking to your wife? Yeah, that is how it starts.” The visuals sell that uneasy vibe: soft, slow camera-like cuts, those slightly too-long pauses on her lips when she smiles at someone else, her shirt clinging in all the right places, and his eyes squinting like he is trying not to imagine her on her knees, drool on another man’s shaft. The pace is not rushed, it pokes you. You get moments where almost nothing “big” happens, just small looks, off-hand comments, her phone lighting up with a message while she is in the shower and you are left staring at the screen, imagining every filthy word she might be reading.

There is a strong “PSA from hell” vibe, yeah, like some horny officer in a police comedy explaining step by step how your wife goes from “I would never cheat” to getting her ass slapped by a stranger in some cheap hotel on vacation. The husband is technically the male protagonist, but it never really feels like you are in control. You are more like a ghost stuck in his skull, dragged through his jealousy, his twisted fantasies, his humiliation. One scene that hit hard: he is sitting on the bed, replaying his argument with his wife, and his brain starts playing its own porn parody. Suddenly she is there in his mind, bent over the kitchen counter, big tits pressed on the cold surface, some smug bastard gripping her hips while she moans his name instead. The sounds get louder than his own thoughts. Little sticky lip noises, wet slaps, her breathy “harder” that he is not sure she ever said to him in real life. The game leans into that: you never know where reality stops and his corrupted imagination starts. Sometimes you see Sara in normal everyday clothes, then next transition she is in a tight uniform, unbuttoned just enough, or a cheap lingerie set that looks like it was bought for someone else’s eyes. You get flashes of oral, her cheeks hollowed around a thick cock, but it cuts away too soon, almost mocking you. And in the middle of all this, the tone suddenly slides into this weird humor, like a wink to those who know Konosuba jokes and tentacle memes, like the narrator is some half-drunk wiz giving you “NTR survival tips” while the real lesson is just: if you feel it happening, it probably started a long time ago, back when you ignored how she smiled at her “friend” a little too much. The game never holds your hand. It kind of laughs while you squirm.

This thing feels like somebody took that whole “dollification” fetish, threw it into Blender and Stable Diffusion, shook the bottle, and never really checked the recipe after. You start as this pretty average dude, nothing special, kind of a background NPC energy, and suddenly you’re surrounded by girls who look like the algorithm has been told “more tits, more ass, more lips, more everything” on a loop. There’s no slow build, no long romance arcs, it’s like walking into a nightclub where the only dress code is “be fuckable” and the lights are permanently set to horny. The bimbo vibe is not just visual, it’s in how scenes are written: they talk like their brain is getting overwritten in real time by your cock and by whatever tech is driving the whole “doll verse” thing. The bodies are cartoon-level stacked, huge round tits that sit high like they’re inflated from the inside, asses that barely fit into the frame, and the camera knows it, keeps sliding down, catching jiggle and tight fabric and those stupidly thin thongs that exist only to be pulled aside.

At some point I realized I was ignoring half the story bits and just clicking forward to see how far the corruption goes. One scene hit me harder than I expected: you’re in this fake-clinical room, like a beauty lab designed by someone who watched too much porn, and the girl is on the chair talking almost normal at first. Lights scan her skin, some AI “enhancement” program runs, and the interface keeps saying stuff like “optimizing obedience” and “sexual output increased.” She’s looking at you, trying to hold onto her old self, then her voice gets softer, words shorter, tits literally bigger a few screen transitions later, her eyes a little emptier, and still she begs you to tell her she looks pretty. Philosophically, it’s super fucked and super hot at the same time. On one level, it is just fetish fluff for people who want big plastic-barbie sluts drooling over their dick. On another, it nails how desire in the digital age tries to flatten women into presets: big tits, big ass, simple thoughts, always “yes.” Of course, I say “nails” like it was planned; it might just be horny chaos that accidentally feels deep when you’re tired and half naked. I kept thinking of Nietzsche and then immediately thinking of how good her nipples looked in that latex harness. No healthy brain should have those two thoughts back-to-back, but here we are.

What actually surprised me most, weirdly, was a small browsing moment. You’re in this selection screen of dolls, like an unholy mix of Pornhub categories and character creation in a RPG, and you can zoom on different parts. I spent way too long just rotating the view around one girl’s ass, trying to decide if the curve was “artificial” enough. The texture has this uncanny quality, a bit too smooth, like AI tried to guess what perfect skin is and overshot it. It made me think about how porn is drifting away from real bodies into this fantasy of “AI generated flesh” that nobody has but everyone clicks on. I complain in my head about the weird hands and slightly off eyes, yet I still keep going, because when she kneels and the screen drops behind her to isolate the movement of her hips on your lap, none of that matters. It’s trashy, it’s overblown, sometimes the writing trips on itself trying to be edgy and just sounds dumb, and one of the early dialogue choices made me roll my eyes so hard I had to alt-tab to Telegram for a minute just to reset my brain. Then you come back, the next scene opens with her in a too-tight crop top, tits almost falling out while she calls you “master” like it’s the only word left in her vocabulary, and all your high-minded critique dissolves into “ok yeah, click next, I need to see where this goes.” The game is full of that clash: horny now, think later, or maybe never.

Natsuki really should stop going on vacation. Every time this woman leaves her house, someone ends up buried deep inside her who is not her husband, and honestly, I respect the commitment to bad choices. This time it is supposed to be a fancy hotel date with Yoshihiko, grown up, classy, proper married couple stuff. Champagne, soft music, the kind of evening you post to Instagram with some fake quote about everlasting love, you know? Then they get shuffled into sharing a table with Tatsuki, this rich old gentleman with that polite smile that screams "I have ruined plenty of marriages and slept just fine after." The story just quietly slides from warm romance into that queasy, horny territory where you already know everything is about to go wrong, you just do not know how fast. Half the erotic tension is in the way the game makes you sit through all the little social details: knees brushing under the table, wine being poured a little too slowly, his hand resting a bit too near her thigh. It is not subtle, but in that good trashy drama way. Like watching a cheating wife JAV you know is scripted, but still yelling at the screen, "Girl, you are not coming back from this."

The game hits that sweet, nasty spot where you are not just watching Natsuki get corrupted, you are basically helping gravity pull her panties down. She sits there in her pretty wife uniform, acting polite, blushing when Tatsuki leans in too close, pretending to be shocked when his hand creeps up her leg under the tablecloth. And you get stuck in this loop of small choices, not big cinematic ones. Let her pull away, or let her freeze for a second longer. Let her pretend she did not notice his fingers brushing her inner thigh. Let her excuse herself to the bathroom, where of course the "gentleman" just happens to follow and pin her softly to the wall, whispering about how she tasted that summer, like he is remembering a favorite dessert instead of someone else’s wife. It is cruel in that slow way, where her wedding ring is always right there in the frame while she is getting her mouth stuffed or her legs pushed apart. She gives these little protests, especially at first, all "we cannot, I am married now, I love Yoshi" while her body is already grinding on his cock, her breasts bouncing out of her dress, nipples slipping free. There is one scene at the hotel room door that almost broke me: she tries to go back to her faithful husband, eyes wet, then turns around and walks back down the hall to Tatsuki’s room instead, like her feet just betrayed her. No big speech, no huge drama, just a quiet, horny surrender. Next shot, she is on all fours on his bed, ass up, wedding ring shining while he pumps her full and she moans his name instead of "husband." It is mean. It is hot. It is that kind of story where the second time she cheats feels worse and better at the same time, and you sit there, lonely, clicking through it all on your phone and wondering why fictional people get more intense sex than you ever did.

Everything is falling apart and somehow you end up as the one guy sitting in the big chair. That is the feeling this game chases. Virus, empty streets, city quiet like a church at night, and then you open the interface and it just goes: “You’re the mayor now. Do what you want.” There is no slow heroic build up, no epic speech. It is more like waking up hungover and realizing you accidentally bought a whole city on Steam during a sale. Only this time the city is full of desperate, scared, very fuckable people who need food, safety, rules, and you are the one deciding what “rules” actually means.

What I like is how casual the corruption starts. You are not forced to be some cartoon villain. You begin with small decisions. Approve some ration cards, move a patrol here, give a special pass to that district. Then the game quietly asks if maybe that cute nurse can get extra medicine if she gives you a “private report” first. You say yes once, and like in WhatsApp chats you think “ok, only this time.” But the next scene remembers. Her sprite changes, her attitude softens, she starts calling you “Mr. Mayor” with this tiny blush. Then the CG kicks in and suddenly your office desk is not for paperwork anymore. The city is dying outside and you’re rearranging her underwear like it’s the most important problem in the world.

The survival layer actually feeds the porn instead of just being some menu in the corner. You cut funding to security so you can pour resources into building your private harem wing in city hall, and the game lets you do it. Crime rises, some people suffer, you still get a new scene where a former councilwoman crawls to you, begging for protection. And you sit there with your fake moral choices. “Sign this obedience contract if you want supplies for your district.” She hesitates for half a second, then the CG shows her on her knees between your legs, signing with her mouth busy. The writing is blunt, not poetic, and that fits. This world is not romantic, it is hungry. Bodies bargaining for safety, girls trading their pride for your signature. Sometimes the text goes a bit too edgy and silly and you roll your eyes, but then a new character pops up, maybe a local cop or a teacher, and the game nails that specific fantasy of slowly watching her standards rot away scene by scene.

What really got me is how the visual novel style makes your filth feel official. You click through council reports, infection stats, budget numbers, and then in the same interface you choose to personally “inspect” the shelter staff. No music swell, just a choice button that changes someone’s whole life. You can pretend to be caring, giving out resources like a kind leader, but the game keeps tempting you with that darker path: exclusive access passes in exchange for “night visits,” forced loyalty oaths while you fuck them over your desk, whole city districts run like your personal breeding grounds. The corruption is not just in them, it’s in you watching the next CG unlock and thinking, “Ok, just one more depraved law.” And it never really judges you. That’s maybe the most dangerous part. This is not a story about saving the city. It is about how good it feels when no one can tell you no.