Gina is the kind of girl who makes you feel weak just by breathing near her. Thick arms, thick thighs, big soft everything, and still running around in tight sport gear like it’s nothing. You’re not some faceless ghost here, you are literally in her head, making choices, pushing her to grind in the gym or grind on somebody’s lap, sometimes both in same day. The whole town is like one big horny playground built around her body and her dad’s broken-down gym, full of people who either want to use her, worship her, or get crushed between those legs. And she actually starts kinda small at first, just strong and curvy, then every time you push another set, another deal, another fucked up favor, she grows. Arms thicker, ass bigger, abs more cut, expressions sluttier, moans louder. You start to memorize the way she groans when she hits that last rep. Yeah, I’m that kind of freak.

The best thing is how normal everything pretends to be at first. You just go around Burlingfort, talking to locals, doing small quests, fixing equipment, checking your phone like it’s a regular RPG life-sim. Then suddenly some stacked milf in yoga pants is offering “private stretching sessions” in the back room. Or the mafia guy shows up and basically says, pay up with money or with body. You think, ok, I’ll be a good girl, I’ll grind the sport events and training jobs, sell some supplements, right. Next thing, you’re arranging evening “work” in alleys and hotel rooms, still wearing your gym jacket while some rich bastard is smacking Gina’s huge ass and begging her to flex for him. And yeah, the game lets you decide: make her a loyal romantic dork who just wants one girl to kiss after sparring, or a full-on muscle goddess who fucks her way through half the city, sometimes with a collar around her neck, sometimes with a leash in her hand instead, stomping on people like they are her warm-up mats.

There are so many small moments that stick in the head. Like that scene where she first realizes she can literally lift a grown man with one arm during combat training, and the dialogue just quietly shifts from “fight” to “oh, you like that, don’t you?” while you’re still picking skills. Or the first time she walks into the locker room and sees another buff sporty girl in a tight uniform, and you get the choice between acting shy, acting cocky, or pinning her against the lockers and kissing her stupid. Or when she has to do a “special session” for money, and you can make her tease the client by flexing her biceps slowly while he’s already on his knees, then sit on his face until he’s begging her like some pathetic paypig. There’s humor all over it too, stupid jokes during serious scenes, ahegao faces when she’s supposed to be acting tough, random NPCs referencing stuff I’ve seen in meme pages on Reddit and Twitter. Sometimes it goes too far into the grind, like you’re running back and forth between gym and town again and again just to unlock one more pervy scene, but then she shows up in a new outfit, muscles pumped, tits barely contained, calling you a perv in that smug way, and yeah. I forget what I was complaining about.

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.

Emily is one of those girls you swear you met in college but can’t quite place. Smart enough, cute enough, a bit basic at first sight, then ten minutes later she’s torn between finishing her assignment and sending nudes to a guy she just met at a shitty bar. That’s basically the whole mood of this game: watching her pretend she has her shit together while you quietly push her toward being either the good girl her profs love or the slut the whole campus whispers about. You’re not some faceless god here, more like the nasty little voice in her head that tells her “eh, one more drink, what’s the worst that can happen?” and then suddenly she’s blowing a married teacher in a locked classroom with her panties stuffed in his pocket. The nice part is how small choices snowball. You tell her to “just flirt a bit” with the muscular black guy from her study group and later you’re sitting there like, okay, now she’s on her knees with mascara all over her face and a grin that basically screams ahegao thumbnail. And the game does not shy from showing you every messy angle of that.

What I liked is that it doesn’t scream “corruption route / pure route” at you in big neon text, but you feel it anyway. One night she’s crying in her room, hugging her phone, deciding if she should stay loyal to her sweet boring boyfriend, next night she’s in some shady hotel room doing live cam masturbation with a vibrator she bought with blackmail money. That jump feels wrong and hot at the same time. Stuff like voyeurism is slipped in almost casually: your choice to peek at someone in the dorm showers “just out of curiosity” suddenly turns into Emily realizing people are watching her too, and instead of freaking out she starts putting on a little stripper show, slow teasing, panties slid down just enough to get the viewer hooked. Then the game turns around and drops a soft romance scene where she’s half asleep, giving lazy oral to her guy in bed, nothing wild, just quiet and intimate, and you think maybe she can be normal. Ten minutes later she’s letting a milf neighbor “teach” her how to please older men and the whole thing feels like you scrolled too far on Pornhub and forgot to stop.

The school setting is used more like a pressure cooker than just a backdrop. You get those dumb normal scenes like group projects and cafeteria gossip, and then out of nowhere someone threatens to leak her nudes unless she “earns” their silence, and that opens the door to prostitution stuff that starts kinda tame and then gets dark. Not “torture porn” dark, more like “she smiles but you know she is owned now” dark. Some paths put Emily on top too, by the way. There is this one route where she figures out very fast that horny men are idiots and starts using female domination tricks on a nervous dilf teacher, making him pay for private “tutoring” while she toys with him using her mouth and then pulls back right before he finishes, total power trip. Sex toys show up in fun ways, not just “here is a dildo, click to use”. Like she goes from shy bedtime fingering to riding a buzzing plug during a serious class presentation, trying not to let the sound escape her lips while her classmates discuss something dumb like group theory. I’m still annoyed that one of the endings locked behind a really small choice about her outfit on the first day, I picked the sweater because I thought “ok, cozy” and then later figured out that the skimpy dress opens a whole extra blackmail chain I missed, but fine, that’s on me and my fake morals. The point is, Emily doesn’t just flip from saint to whore in one click. She slides, stumbles, laughs, cries, makes horrible decisions that you kind of pushed her into. And watching her cross those lines, one blowjob, one strip tease, one “accidental” creampie at a time, is where the entire thing really gets under your skin.

Your boss finally notices you, but not for the reason you wanted. You bust your ass at work, grind through pointless meetings, kiss enough corporate ring that your tongue should get hazard pay, and it actually pays off. Promotion on the table, big project, all eyes on you. Then he invites you to his place to “celebrate the new chapter” and you’re already half thinking about LinkedIn flex posts in your head. Instead you walk in and meet the real final boss of the game: his wife, wrapped in a tight dress that looks painted on, tits practically spilling, eyes locked on you like you’re dessert she ordered for herself.

She doesn’t even try to hide it. From the moment she leans in a bit too close to pour you a drink, her huge chest brushing your arm, it’s this slow burn of “this is wrong” versus “this is hot as fuck”. The game leans hard into that quiet, private tension. Soft little smiles, hands lingering on your shoulder a bit too long, her bending over the table to pick something up and making sure you can’t miss her ass straining the fabric. There’s no instant jump to sex, it’s more like she keeps poking at the line and watching you twitch. She corners you in the kitchen, finger trailing along the glass, asking if you’ve “ever had a woman who knows what she wants”. Boss is in the next room, rambling about quarterly numbers, while his wife slowly closes the distance, eyes half-lidded, tongue wetting her lips. At some point she presses you against the counter, her tits pushed up against your chest, her hand sliding down, fingers teasing your crotch over your pants like it’s just casual fun. And you’re there thinking, “Say no, say no” while your body is screaming yes.

The corruption angle actually hits different because you’re not some loser with nothing to lose. You built your way up, you care about the job, and that makes every handjob under the table at dinner feel ten times more dangerous. There’s this one moment where she invites you to “help” her in the study while the boss is on a call. Door almost closed, just a crack open, and she drops to her knees in front of you so casually it feels like she’s done this before. She looks up at you while unzipping you, like she’s daring you to pull away, and of course you don’t. Warm mouth, slow strokes, her lipstick smearing on your skin while she moans around your cock, then wiping her mouth with this smug little smile and going back out like nothing happened. The teasing is constant. She texts you after, sending pics of her in nothing but an open shirt, tits barely contained, saying she’s “bored when hubby is at the office”. Some routes let you push her further, turning that sexy wife into someone who basically lives to sneak around behind his back with you, climbing into your lap, grinding that big ass against you while she whispers how her husband never fucks her like you do. And yeah, part of you knows this will wreck everything you’ve been working for, but by the time she’s riding you on his couch, soft moans mixing with the sound of her skin slapping on yours, nails digging into your shoulders, you’re way past pretending you’re the good guy anymore.