Moon looks so innocent the first second you see her, that soft face and the short skirt barely handling her tiny hips, like she’s supposed to be off-limits. But this game doesn’t care about limits. It lures you in with that cute, fake-Pokemon style setting, those candy colors, and then - bam - you’re balls-deep in filth. There’s no slow fade, no “romantic” pretense; just options, clicks, and reactions. You fuck her however you want. When I hit the anal option the first time, her surprised moan hit that part of my brain that feels almost guilty…but not quite enough to stop. Her body moves like she wasn’t made to say no anyway. You could say it’s a twisted pleasure, but that’d be too polite. I’d rather call it what it is: raw obsession disguised as simple hentai fun.

The secret background item took me forever to notice, and when I finally did - boom - her chest swelled like something out of a fever dream. Not too realistic, more cartoon-bouncy, but it worked. There’s something addictive about the contrast: the cute pastel universe mixed with this absolutely filthy core. Creambee does this thing where everything looks playful but ends up obscene beyond repair. That breast expansion scene? Felt like watching a sugar packet explode in slow motion. And then, that final cum option… sometimes it feels silly, clicking a glowing button just to mark the end, but I catch myself grinning anyway because it ties it all together like a perverted little ritual.

Maybe that’s the point here. It’s not about pretending this is a “story.” It’s about controlling a world made for your id and seeing how far you can take this girl - or how far she’ll let you. The pace, the faces, the absolute dirtiness of it all hits harder the longer you mess around. If you play, do yourself a favor: don’t rush to the finish. Tease her, poke around. Make her beg. Things get nastier when you don’t look for the end right away.

You wake up, horny, confused and a little annoyed, and the game just shrugs and drops a catgirl in your lap like that’s a normal Tuesday. She’s not the cutesy “nya~ master” type either, at least not at first. There is this weird mix of needy kitten and bratty roommate who looks through your browser history and then pretends she didn’t. One moment she’s pressing those ridiculous tits against your arm while her tail flicks, next moment she’s acting offended you looked. Classic. The robot friend beside her is even stranger. Not some cold metal toy, more like a pervy Alexa with a body and no shame, scanning everyone, throwing humiliating comments about body temperature, arousal levels, “fertility status” in your face. It feels like a therapist that skipped ethics class and went straight to “how can I make you blush harder” mode.

Where it gets fun, or fucked up, or both, is how the game handles control. You’ve got the usual dating sim stuff, choices, gifts, events, blah, but then it slides quietly into serious kink territory. Orgasm denial isn’t just a line in the menu, it becomes part of the daily routine. A handjob that stops right when she starts to squirt. A blowjob where the robot keeps count of thrusts and locks the toy on your cock if you cum too fast. You get a catgirl on her knees, drooling on your shaft, and at the same time a cold voice in your ear rating your self control like it’s grading homework. It should be stupid. It kind of is. I liked it anyway. Then there is the childhood friend, the wrestler girl with short hair and tan lines that tell you exactly what kind of bikini she wears and how long she stayed in the sun. She suplexes you on the mattress, sits on your face, calls it “training”, and the game treats her virginity like a big boss fight. When you finally break her hymen you feel half proud, half guilty, and the stupid part is that the game never actually asks you to feel anything at all. It just lets the blood, the creampie, the shaking legs speak.

Fantasy and sci fi keep mixing like someone spilled two different games together and never cleaned the floor. One route has you dealing with elves and a monster girl that squirts milk when you grope her too hard, another throws in cybernetic restraints and a “safety protocol” that clearly is not safe. Pregnancy stuff is everywhere, but not shoved in your face, more like a quiet threat. You watch bellies swell after one too many creampies, lactation dripping through cosplay outfits, the robot calmly explaining hormone changes while you’re busy pounding an ahegao-faced catgirl in anal. There is this voyeurism system where you can spy on girls masturbating, or on two of them going full lesbian, one more dominant, slapping ass and making the other lick her own juices off a toy. Then the same girl later kneels for you, calls you master, and it actually feels a bit too easy. That annoyed me, not enough struggle, not enough real humiliation, but I kept playing anyway. The sandbox part sometimes feels like a mess, wandering around just to trigger a titfuck scene in the shower or a quick spanking in the locker room, and I kind of hate that I had to open Notes on my phone to remember where the best scenes were. But then the game throws a horror-style event at you, lights flicker, some superpower shit activates, your slave girl starts floating and moaning like possessed, and you still end up with her pinned under you, begging for more vaginal and anal at the same time like that’s totally normal reaction to paranormal activity. It’s trashy, it’s inconsistent, it pretends to care about consent while letting you push way too far in group sex scenes, and I still found myself tabbing away from Telegram so I could focus when the robot whispered “orgasm denied” and the catgirl looked like she might cry if I didn’t let her cum. I wanted more actual fear in the horror, more sting in the BDSM, less harem softness, but I know I’d complain even if it had all that.

You close your eyes in your boring bedroom and open them in the kind of fever dream only people who stayed too long on hentai subreddits would recognize. Floor’s not even yours. Gravity feels slightly drunk. There’s a catgirl kneeling on your chest like you’re furniture, tail flicking over your mouth while she argues with a floating robot about whether you count as “property” or “partner.” She’s wearing this half-assed cosplay mashup that looks like someone tried to mix maid uniform with battle gear and gave up halfway. She keeps “testing” your reactions. Fingers tracing your crotch through your pants, nails dragging just a bit too slow, telling the robot to record your pulse when she gropes you. She keeps saying it’s “for science” but she’s grinding on your thigh while she says it, so yeah. Science with nipple clamps and a collar.

The game plays like some horny sandbox dating sim that drank too much sci-fi and shonen anime. You wander a weird city that looks medieval if you squint, until a neon sign pops up over an elf brothel and ruins the illusion. There’s monster girls tending stalls and they all look at you like you’re a walking virgin buff. Some of them actually say it. Out loud. One big-titted cyclops girl literally bets you she can make you cum from a handjob without letting you thrust at all, and the game actually locks your inputs and makes you watch her smug face while she squeezes and strokes and slows down right before your bar hits full. She spits on your tip, smirks, denies you on purpose, and then asks if she can tag you as a “denied client” in her app. I swear it felt more humiliating than losing in ranked on Valorant.

What really messed with me was how often the world pretends sex is just another stat. There’s an elf matron who checks your “breeding potential” like she’s scanning a QR code, talks about your balls like they’re gear in an RPG, then drags you behind a curtain and mounts you slow, riding you raw while lecturing you on proper thrust rhythm. She keeps squeezing her pregnant belly against your stomach, milk leaking down on your chest, telling you this is your “future” if you keep signing slave contracts without reading them. Then, same game, you’re in a dirty alley watching two girls in cosplay dom gear spit on a chained-up maid and use her face for practice. One sits on her nose, the other pinches her nipples till she squirts all over the ground, and you don’t even get to join unless you agree to be collared too. The childhood friend with the short hair finds out later, pins you in the wrestling ring, sits on your face and rubs herself all over your mouth while punching your stomach lightly every time you try to breathe, calling you a perv and making you say whose slave you want to be. She keeps pretending she’ll let you cum if you answer “correct,” then pulls away right when you’re twitching, laughing in that half-cruel, half-affectionate way that makes your brain melt.

Group scenes happen so casually it almost feels wrong. You walk into a bathhouse and suddenly there’s a harem of different races arguing over who gets your cock first. One girl wants anal, one wants your mouth, one just wants to milk you with her tits. They line you up, use your body like a shared toy, switch places without asking, and the camera just lingers on wet skin, dripping cum, drooling mouths. A robot hovers overhead and records everything for “research,” again, but secretly you find that same recording in your room later and, yeah, you end up jerking off to your own humiliation. Sometimes the game makes you just watch. A lesbian dom scene behind a glass wall, another girl getting spanked till her ass glows red, then shoved full of a dildo while she cries and smiles at the same time. You can’t help. You can only stare. And worse, the UI tracks how long you watched, and some characters tease you about it later like they saw your browser history. Not gonna lie, some of the animated ahegao faces look stupid as hell, tongues flopping like broken gifs, but then one of them starts squirting on your abs while begging for more and your brain just forgives everything.

I kept wishing they’d at least let me change one stupid tiny thing, like that ugly default collar you get tagged with in the early slave arc, but no, it stays in every sex scene for hours, mocking you quietly. You go from shy virgin to the guy who’s creampied an orc, an elf, a catgirl, and something with too many tentacles, and still that same cheap collar sits on your neck, reminding you you’re never fully in control here. It’s messy, horny, mean, sometimes sweet by accident, like when the pregnant catgirl curls around you in bed, leaking milk on your chest and purring while you lazily finger her and she tries not to moan too loud. Then she ruins the moment, calls the robot, and asks it to replay earlier footage of you getting pegged so she can laugh at your face while you cum again inside her. This whole world feels like that: one long, sweaty joke on you that somehow keeps you hard anyway.

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