Girl goes to a “normal” summer camp job and ends up getting body‑jacked by a horny fertility goddess with zero boundaries, that’s the vibe here. She clocks in expecting brats, mosquitos and bad cafeteria food, and instead wakes up with a thick new surprise between her legs and a goddess in her head giggling like “oops, my hand slipped.” From that point it’s not really a camp anymore, it’s a playground. You’re walking around this peaceful fantasy forest with cabins and lakes and then suddenly you’re pinballed between monster babes, stacked milfs and campers who are way too curious about what you’re hiding in those shorts. The game leans hard into her being both the teaser and the toy. One moment she’s pressing some poor flustered girl up against a tree and groping those tits like she’s kneading dough, and the next she’s on her knees with her own mouth full, acting like this was not in the job description while clearly enjoying every second. Classic “I shouldn’t… but I absolutely will.”

I like how the main girl starts out kinda panicked, like “what the hell is this thing hanging from me” and five scenes later she’s using it like a laser pointer to get people’s attention. There’s this one bit where a big‑ass, big‑tits camp counselor milf corners her in the storage shack, half scolding, half staring at the bulge, and slowly drags a hand down over it. That grab is shameless, the kind where you can almost hear the fabric stretch. Then she drops to her knees and you get this sloppy, messy oral scene where the milf is way too experienced, like she’s been waiting years for someone to show up with this exact equipment. Contrast that with the shy monster girl in the woods, who pretends she wants to “study” the new anatomy and ends up getting pinned against a rock, tail twitching while she’s ground on until she’s begging. The flirting is actually funny sometimes, very “lesbian disaster with magic dick tries to act smooth and fails” and I’m into that energy. Some dialogues are awkward in the wrong way though, like someone typed it on their phone during a bus ride and never read it again, but somehow that fits the messy, horny chaos of the story. Nothing is polished, everything is thirsty, and the goddess just keeps whispering in her head like a rude little coach, egging her on to go further, get rougher, try new holes, push new buttons. It all snowballs fast, from teasing and light groping at the lake to full‑on futa pounding behind the cabins, pussy eating in the showers, and girls sitting on her face like it’s a camp activity. At some point you forget there was ever a normal job involved at all, which is honestly exactly the point.

Remote islands in games always make me think of runaway brides and moody seaside editorials, not a horny young doctor patching up people who may or may not be possessed by something that wants to crawl under his skin. This one feels like someone mixed a medical drama, a ghost story and a porn parody in one Pinterest board, then forgot to tidy anything. You arrive as this fresh doctor, supposed to learn from a famous woman that just… is not there. She is everywhere in the story, in whispers, in family photos, in that weird smell in the clinic hallway, but she’s also gone. Same energy as when I send a lingerie sketch to a client and they “love it” and then vanish. The island itself feels like a big, damp bedroom. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone hides something. People come to your clinic with a fever and leave with your hands on places that are definitely not in any medical manual. And under that, there is this constant small fear that the body you are touching is not completely their own. Something rides them, slides inside their eyes, speaks through their mouths. It’s hot for a second and then you get that little cold under the spine that usually only happens when Gmail crashes right after you hit “send sample pics”.

What I really like is how the erotic part and the horror part keep tripping over each other. You have these older women, very self aware, playing the nurturing card with a little too much tongue, like a MILF campaign from a cheap underwear brand, only with more blood tests. They tease you, they act all motherly, then they say something that sounds like it belongs to someone much older, or not even human, and suddenly the whole vibe flips. There is a scene where one of them comes in late, storm outside, clothes half soaked, asking for a check-up in a tone that is clearly “fuck me on the exam bed, doctor”. The lighting, the breathing, the little touches, it all builds up, and you are so busy undressing her that you almost miss the moment her voice shifts, a second personality pushing through while you still have your fingers inside her. That fucked me up in a good way. I design harness bras on my iPad with Procreate running, Spotify in the back, then I alt-tab to this game in Chrome and suddenly I’m thinking about how to make lingerie that looks like it could be used in an exorcism and in a family dinner at same time. And there is this whole incest twist floating through some of the families on the island, spoken half-open, half like forbidden fabric you only use on special orders. People call each other “son” and “aunt” and you are not always sure if the soul inside that body is actually related or just borrowing the title. I kind of wish the clinic had more small props, like disposable gloves stacked wrong or mismatched curtains, but it will probably stay like this forever and that’s oddly fitting. The romance parts go from sweet to fucked to sweet again with no warning, one minute you’re gently comforting a scared girl, next minute something that might be The Nightrest is whispering through her lips that it knows exactly how your cock tastes from “another time”. Then everyone acts normal again, like the game gaslight you. I kept telling myself I’m here for “research”, for fabric inspiration, but by the time the lights flickered in the hallway during a blowjob scene, I realized I was just horny and slightly afraid of my own bedsheets.

You come back to this glossy, fake-perfect hometown like some prodigal son who learned how to fuck with people’s brains instead of just getting a normal job. Now you’re the new psychologist in a mega rich tech corporation, walking into rooms where everyone smiles too wide and lies for a living. Under the marble floors and glass walls, it all smells like perfume, power and bad decisions. The game leans hard into that. Every session you run feels like foreplay and interrogation at the same time. You’re supposed to help them, of course, but the tools they give you, the tech, the hypnosis routines, the little “mental triggers” you slip into their thoughts, it all starts feeling less like therapy and more like slow, sweet corruption. You’re not just listening. You’re adjusting. Pushing. Groping minds before you even touch their skin.

What I liked is how the story keeps mixing that clinical talk with very physical, shameless scenes. One moment you talk with a high-ranking MILF executive about workplace stress while she crosses and uncrosses those ridiculous thick thighs, blouse two buttons too low, always “by accident”. Next scene, you’re in her penthouse, city lights behind her, and she’s asking you to “help her relax” while your hand is inside her blouse and she’s kneeling between your legs, lips shiny, voice all shaky from a suggestion you planted earlier. It is not subtle. It’s not even trying to be. It knows exactly what it is doing when it gives you dialogue options that look responsible, then clearly marks another one that will nudge her a bit deeper into dependence, into that warm, obedient haze. You tell yourself you’re testing the boundaries of the tech, that it’s for science, but then you’re making her slowly strip for you in her office, door half open, her tits bouncing in those little looped animated scenes that repeat just enough times you realize you’ve been staring too long. At some point there is a scene with a “family dinner” that pretends to be normal, like catching up after you’ve been away. It goes sideways fast if you choose the more daring lines. Old resentments on the table, wine flowing, and you quietly dropping cues, peeling away all the polite surface. Watching someone who should absolutely not be touching you like that run a hand along your thigh under the table while the others talk about business mergers feels filthy in a very particular, incest-tinted way the game clearly enjoys. It toys with romance too, like putting sugar on poison. There are moments where one woman’s shy smile, the way she leans on you on a balcony, actually feels tender, almost pure. Then you remember you installed a mental reinforcement earlier that makes her horny when she smells your cologne, and the next kiss is tongue, teeth, desperation, her grinding that big ass into your crotch while she whispers how safe she feels with you. I still hate the phone UI popups that slide in at the worst times and cover half the boob, by the way. Whoever designed that deserves a very stern handjob without lube. The branching is sneaky. You think you’re just picking filthy or filthier, but later the game tells you in its own way that you chose whether she becomes a loyal lover, a brainwashed toy, or something broken and dangerous. Multiple endings hide behind small choices in early scenes, like whether you give someone a comforting hug or you “accidentally” let your hand rest on her ass a bit too long. And somewhere between giving oral instructions during an actual blowjob scene, watching those smooth 3D bodies glisten, and deciding if you’ll let one of them keep a bit of free will, you realize you’re not playing the hero here at all, just enjoying every slow, dirty step.

Max is this kind of idiot I relate to way too much. He walks into a fantasy world full of loot, monsters, magic, and somehow he keeps ending up with his dick in the middle of every mistake. It looks like a normal dungeon crawl at first: you grab a sword, smack a few slimes, think about gold and maybe some huge tits in a tavern after. Then the game just quietly takes your hand and says, “ok, now you’re going to lose control of everything that makes you you.” One bad magical artifact, one “oh this chest looks safe”, and suddenly your big hero is waking up with soft thighs, a tight pussy and clothes that cling in all the wrong places. I mean, the right places. Depends how honest you are with yourself. The story doesn’t treat it like some trauma drama, more like “yep, that happened, your ass jiggles now, keep moving”. That mix of goofy humor with really filthy stuff works weirdly well. You’re chuckling at a dumb line and then the next click your transformed body is getting eyed by an orc with a cock like a weapon, and you’re wondering when exactly you went from “adventurer” to “walking breeding target”.

The thing that hit me hardest is how the corruption creeps in. At the beginning you still think like a guy. You try to cover your chest, you feel humiliated when someone stares at your nipples through a torn shirt, you hate that your hips sway and everyone notices. Then there’s that one scene where a monster pins you to a dungeon wall and you know you should be fighting back, but the game lets you just… stop. His hand is between your legs, your mind is screaming and your new clit is buzzing and you catch yourself grinding against him. After that, every choice feels a bit dirtier. You tell yourself you hate the mage who keeps “testing” new spells on your body, but you still show up to his room. You say you’re disgusted by getting filled with hot cum and feeling it leak down your thigh in a quiet corridor, but your hand is between your legs the moment you’re alone, panting like a bitch in heat. The netorare flavor creeps in there too. Watching someone you care about get pulled away from you, hearing her moan for another guy, feeling your own body already softened and trained, like the world decided you’re not the one doing the fucking anymore, you’re the one getting used. There is one lesbian scene that absolutely fried my brain: you, fully transformed, trying to prove to yourself you’re still in control, so you take the lead with another girl. Except halfway through, she’s the one gripping your hair, riding your face, and your own fingers are inside yourself, dripping, because her smell and her voice are turning you on more than any memory of your old cock. It’s messy, a bit cruel, sometimes very funny in a shitpost way, and then suddenly you’re watching a creampie animation stay inside just a bit too long and the word “pregnant” pops into your head and refuses to leave. That feeling of “I shouldn’t enjoy this” but you keep clicking anyway, that’s what stayed with me after I closed the tab and tried to pretend I was just checking Twitter.