Okay so first thing - Clara's transformations are absolutely wild and completely caught me off guard. I mean, I went in expecting some standard dating sim stuff with childhood friend Nala moving in, maybe some typical romance routes, but holy shit when Clara starts appearing... her body changes are genuinely unsettling in the best possible way. Like, we're talking complete physical metamorphosis that made me question what I was even looking at. The AI-generated visuals actually work really well here because there's this uncanny valley effect that makes her supernatural presence feel legitimately creepy. I spent way too much time trying to figure out if there was a pattern to when she'd show up, and honestly the randomness makes it worse in a good way.

The desire system is pretty straightforward - you build up points with Nala through conversations and choices, unlock new outfits for her (and trust me, they're worth it), but the real hook is how the game constantly pulls you between moving forward with this sweet childhood friend setup and getting dragged back into trauma with Clara. Alan's just this regular dude stuck in a dead-end job, which makes the supernatural horror elements hit harder. One minute you're having a normal conversation about breakfast, next minute Clara's there looking like something from a fever dream. The affinity tracking gets complicated because sometimes being nice to Nala feels like betraying Clara's memory, even though she's literally haunting you.

What really gets me is how the game doesn't let you forget about Clara even when you're trying to focus on Nala's route. She'll just appear during intimate moments, completely transformed, and suddenly you're dealing with guilt and supernatural terror while trying to romance your childhood friend. The big tits and ass tags are definitely accurate for Nala's scenes, but Clara's transformations go way beyond normal proportions into genuinely disturbing territory. I keep going back trying different dialogue choices to see if I can somehow save both relationships, but the game seems determined to make you choose between healing and obsession.

Yeah alright, this one feels like some horny fanfic someone refused to leave in their Google Docs and just shoved into a game engine instead. You’re basically watching a bunch of Trails-flavored characters get dragged through this ugly corporate city where everything smells like debt, cheap booze and bad decisions, and the only “professional” who’ll help is Van, this fixer who looks like he’s permanently five missed payments behind on everything. It’s a kinetic novel, so don’t come in expecting choices or stat grinding. You click, you read, and every now and then the story sucker punches you with a scene where somebody suddenly has a cock down their throat or is fingering themselves in a room that really should have curtains. Simple, dumb, kind of hot.

The structure jumps between characters, which sounds clever and high level, but in practice feels more like reading horny group chat logs where somehow everyone writes in full sentences. One moment you’re stuck in Agnes’ head while she’s trying to pretend her “research” isn’t just stalking a pattern of broken classmates, and five minutes later you’re in Van’s brain, watching him pretend he’s too jaded to care while he absolutely cares, because of course he does, he’s the dumb noir protagonist archetype with a hard cock and soft spot. The best parts are when the game stops trying to be serious about corporate intrigue and just lets the filth breathe. Like there’s this sequence where Agnes is alone in her tiny student room, doomscrolling on her phone, reading messages from classmates about weird incidents, and between every new disturbing clue she’s got one hand inside her panties, getting off to the same tension that’s freaking her out. It’s messy, a bit pathetic, and way more believable than the usual “pure honor student suddenly swallows dick like a pro” nonsense. Then later she actually does swallow dick like a pro and the game doesn’t really explain that jump, but porn logic, right.

The AI art thing is funny in a wrong way. Some scenes look great at first glance, like Agnes kneeling between Van’s legs in this dingy office, her tits spilling out while she’s “paying for the investigation” with her mouth, and the lighting makes it feel like dirty afternoon porn. Then your eye catches some weird finger shape or a strand of hair that looks like it’s trying to escape the render. It’s not enough to kill the mood, but you can absolutely tell this wasn’t some hand-painted masterpiece. Sometimes that roughness works though. When Van’s jerking off alone in his room, thinking about all the clients he “shouldn’t” touch, the slightly uncanny body proportions make him look tired, too real, like a guy who drinks too much convenience store coffee and rubs one out before going back into emotional hell. I liked that scene more than the fancy ones actually. Oral stuff is the main star here, lots of angles focusing on lips stretched around cock, drool, smear of lipstick, that kind of thing. If you’re here for huge tits, you get them, but half the time they’re just bouncing in the background while the camera is obsessed with tongues and wet sounds. Kind of annoying. Kind of perfect. Depends when you catch me.

You know that awful feeling when your phone buzzes, you open the chat, and you’re not sure if you even want to scroll up because you already feel something’s wrong? This game lives inside that feeling. You play as Eddie, normal guy, married, kind of worn out by life, stuck in this shitty loop of work, stress, debt, and a dick that just refuses to cooperate when you actually need it. The whole thing plays out mostly through chats and phone stuff, so you’re basically spying on your own life. Messages, pictures, little bits of “hey babe, miss you” turning into “hey, I’m working late” and then into things you really don’t want to see your wife sending to someone else. And still you keep tapping, because of course you do.

Rachel starts as that sweet, supportive wife who just wants to help, who wants her man back, wants sex that isn’t awkward and half-hearted. The game doesn’t jump straight into filth. It teases you. She takes small jobs, chats with new people, gets “friendly” with that one guy who compliments her more in two texts than Eddie managed in a whole week. You see her selfies get a bit bolder. At first it’s cute. She’s shy, a bit embarrassed, but she sends that “accidental” cleavage pic and you feel both proud and a bit sick. Then the pictures get dirtier. The emojis change. The typing pauses get longer. The game really likes to make you stare at the screen waiting for three dots, wondering if she’s going to send something soft or something that will make you want to punch the wall and jerk off at the same time.

Sex scenes here are mostly in your head and on the phone screen, twisted together. When she’s playing with herself, you don’t just see her; you see the messages that pushed her there. Some random guy hyping her up, telling her how wet she must be, asking for “proof”, and she actually sends it. You get AI-style images that look like those edited photos you see on Telegram porn channels, slightly too clean, but the situation around them is messy as fuck. There’s cheating, voyeurism, corruption, all that good painful stuff. You read how she describes your failures in bed while you’re the one stuck watching and masturbating like some pathetic cuck who can’t even look away. The worst part is how normal it all feels. No magic, no mind control. Just money problems, stress, one dude with a working dick and another with a nice salary and a smooth tongue, and a woman who gets tired of waiting. The story doesn’t need big twists. It just pokes at those ugly relationship fears until they get horny, then keeps going a bit too far. You know it’s going to hurt. You still open the next chat. And the next picture. And the next.

FSS Lamashtu feels like somebody mashed up a cold war naval thriller with a filthy space brothel and then forgot which part was supposed to be serious. You’re the freshly minted captain of this “experimental cruiser” that is absolutely not built for exploration, unless you count exploring how many holes your crew can take in a single patrol. Officially it’s the proud weapon of the Alliance, last hope in a long-ass war. Unofficially it’s your floating fuck-lab, staffed with officers who look like they came out of a horny AI art generator after you typed “war crime but sexy” too many times. The ship layout screen is almost a character by itself: bridge, medbay, cargo, those little tucked-away compartments you quickly learn are perfect for “private disciplinary sessions.” You jump between menus pretending to care about fleet orders, but the only thing you actually remember is which corridor you cornered that technician in when she kept “accidentally” brushing her giant tits against you.

The story likes to pretend it’s about geopolitics and rebellion, and sometimes it even tricks you. You’ll get this long briefing about the Neo-Terran strategic line, convoy raids, morale of the Alliance, all that stuff. Then two clicks later, you’re watching a proud enemy pilot on her knees, mascara running, mouth full of cum while she tries to spit out her rank and serial number. The tone whiplash is almost funny. There’s a certain charm in how the game refuses to pick a lane: you capture prisoners, you break them in slowly or just slam straight into collar-and-chain slavery, you’re supposed to feel the “moral weight” of it, but the next scene has them begging for anal like they read the script ahead of time. The AI CG does that exaggerated wetness thing, where every hole looks like you dumped a bucket of lube on it, and every creampie is this ridiculous white flood that should qualify as a bio-weapon. Sometimes the faces twist into that extreme, over-the-top ahegao that doesn’t even look human anymore, more like a melted idol poster, and it somehow fits this world where war propaganda and porn have fused into one genre.

What sticks in my mind most is how physical the ship starts to feel. You’re not just choosing sex options, you’re shaping routines. That science officer who starts with stiff posture and carefully zipped uniform? A few “private evaluations” in your quarters, and suddenly she’s walking around with visible bite marks on her neck, trying not to react when you casually grope her in front of others. There’s a scene in the hangar where two captured enemy girls are supposed to be processed for interrogation, and you can decide if that means basic questions or “group demonstration of Alliance hospitality.” The way their bodies are posed, covered in semen from multiple angles, has that bukkake ritual vibe, everyone participating because the war needs “unity.” You get toy usage too, not just as accessories but as tools of control: a vibrator left inside during a formal strategy meeting, the slow dawning horror on your new slave’s face when she realizes the remote is in your pocket while admirals talk about casualties. The game never really resolves whether you’re a genius commander or just a sex-obsessed tyrant who got lucky with experimental hardware. At some point there’s a tender-ish lesbian moment tucked awkwardly between brutal scenes, two crew girls comforting each other after a mission, fingers exploring, tongues slow and hesitant, and for once you’re not in the frame at all. It feels almost like the game forgot its own premise for a second, then remembers, throws you back into forced deepthroat in a dark interrogation room, and moves on like nothing happened.