You come back from a boring business trip with a head full of spreadsheets and hotel porn, expecting your cute newlywed wife to jump on you at the door. Instead she’s napping in the middle of the afternoon, hair messy, phone too close to her hand, and you get this weird little punch in the gut that something’s off. Not “she forgot to feed the cat” off. More like “someone else might have been in this bed” off. She smiles, kisses you, acts sweet, but that tiny delay before she answers simple questions just keeps scratching at your brain. The game takes that small uncomfortable feeling and just keeps poking it, harder and harder, while you try to convince yourself you’re just tired and paranoid. Spoiler: you’re probably not.

The whole thing hangs on that one stupid selfie she sent you while you were away. You know the one. Lingerie that you didn’t even know she owned, tits squeezed up like she’s trying to win a contest, eyes a little too needy. At first you were just horny and you jerked off to it alone in your hotel room. Later, back home, you stare at it again and finally see it: three fingertips on the edge of the frame, some stranger’s hand trying to stay out of view. That tiny detail turns your brain into a crime scene. From there the story slips between your perspective and hers. On your side, you’re walking around the house like a detective in denial, clicking through small things that suddenly feel like clues: the subtle smell on the sheets that is not your cologne, her panties in the laundry that are more lace and less “comfortable wife mode”, her slightly glazed look when you touch her, like she’s comparing you to someone else in her head. On her side, it’s this slow, messy slide from “happy new bride” into “I shouldn’t do this” and then right into “I want him to do it again” while her body language gets looser and her ahegao face shows up more often than you want to admit turns you on a bit too.

Sex scenes aren’t just random porn stops, they sneak up on you. One moment you’re arguing in the kitchen about something stupid, next moment the game cuts to how she spent that same time earlier with another guy, bra on the floor, those big breasts bouncing while she rides him and moans into a pillow so the neighbors won’t hear. Creampies that hit way too raw because you know that same pussy is what you’re supposed to be “making love” to later like some clueless husband. Sometimes you get to fuck her too, and that’s the worst part, because the CG shows her eyes rolling back a bit more when she’s remembering his cock instead of yours. Lingerie that she wears “for you” is actually what he already tore off once. There’s this mystery thread running under everything, not just “who is he” but “how far did she go, and when did it really start” and the more you see her side, the less clean the answer feels. It’s not obedient wife corrupted in one night. It’s little choices, late messages, risky selfies, one kiss that should have stopped but didn’t, and then your whole married life is sitting on the edge of a knife and everyone is pretending not to see the blood. And yeah, the story is kinda linear, but honestly, when you’re watching your own wife slowly turn into someone else’s favorite toy, you don’t feel like you have many choices anyway.

Ethan and Ava feel like that couple you see on Instagram and think, ok this is fake, nobody is this in love. But in this game it actually feels real at first. They text cute things, stupid horny things, “I miss your mouth” kind of messages, little inside jokes. You get all of that right in your phone, like you are reading a chat that maybe you were not supposed to see. And because everything is on mobile style, it is way too easy to forget this is fiction and not your own fucked up life. Their sex talk is not shy at all. She sends him “remember how you filled me up on the kitchen counter” and you can feel his dick wake up through the screen. They talk about how she loves when he pushes deep, how she wants him to wreck her again as soon as he comes back, how she can still feel his last creampie when she tries to sleep. It is sweet and dirty at the same time. The kind of romance where you think destiny finally did something right for once. A marriage where love and lust are holding hands and laughing at everyone else. You get lulled into this comfort, like oh ok this is just a horny couple sexting, cute. And then that one message drops from the other woman and the whole vibe just flips.

This “best friend” character hits like a ghost from another timeline. You feel immediately that her place in Ethan’s story is not small. She throws that word “favor” and suddenly every line of text has weight. She knows exactly what she did for him before, he knows, and you as a player slowly peel it away while also deciding how much of a coward or bastard he is going to be. She teases him, not just sexually, but psychologically. She reminds him of that old debt, then adds little pieces of filth on top. A picture that is way too revealing. A message where she describes how she imagines his tongue on her while his wife is in the next room. A “joke” where she mentions sharing him, then pretends it was nothing. And you sit there, phone in your hand, feeling that mix of arousal and “oh fuck this is a bad road” that only this kind of story can give. The netorare angle creeps in slow. At first it is just tension. Then you read a choice like “Tell her no” or “Ask what exactly she wants” and you already know the second option is you stepping into hell. She talks about taking what is “owed” from his perfect little wife too, hinting at situations where Ava is not as safe as she thinks, all through texts that feel uncomfortably possible. One second you are reading Ava sending him a selfie in a tight top, saying she wants his cock buried inside her again. Next second you are reading the friend describing how she would make Ava moan for someone that is not her husband. The sex descriptions when things start to cross the line are blunt. Tongues, throats, asses, messy cum on big tits, no soft filters. Ahegao faces described like “she looks ruined and happy and wrong at the same time.” The corruption is not just bodies, it is that slow slide where Ethan goes from “I can never do this to her” to “maybe just one time, maybe she never finds out” and you are the one pressing the answer. The game makes you complicit in every dirty little betrayal, like fate is not written in the stars but in the stupid horny text you choose to send. And somehow that feels way more dangerous than any high fantasy epic with swords and magic. Here it is just you, your phone, two women, and one favor that should have stayed unpaid.

Lena’s voice keeps ringing in my head even after I closed the tab - like an echo that’s not really hers, but mine. She’s drawn to disaster, that much is clear. I kept thinking she’d make a “good” choice, but the game doesn’t reward good. It teases it, then smothers it under sweat and half-whispered apologies. That scene in the cheap motel room (yeah, the one with the red sheets that keep sliding down her thighs) hit weirdly hard. I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. Ian’s dialogue there, when he asks if she *feels anything at all* - it’s not written like porn, it’s more like he’s daring her to stop pretending. And then you realize the game’s been daring *you* the same way for the last hour.

There’s a rhythm to the choices, like breathing too fast and then stopping. One moment you’re talking about dreams and gigs and paying rent; next, you’ve got Lena on her knees, warm breath fogging up the screen. The blowjob animation isn’t even the point - it’s how she looks up after, like she’s trying to find meaning in it. I swear that little pause before she wipes her mouth says more about her than any of the branching dialogue trees. But still, there’s something sloppy about the transitions - like it’s all too aware of what it’s supposed to turn you on with. I got annoyed once because the text box covered her chest at the exact wrong time. Then I forgot I was annoyed when she bit her lip and said his name wrong on purpose. Some games talk about corruption; this one feels sticky with it, uncomfortable in a way that makes you stay longer than planned.

By the time the threesome scene rolled around - Lena, the redhead, and Ian with that smug smirk - I’d stopped trying to make moral choices. You just click and watch the mess unfold. It’s romantic and ugly and kind of beautiful in its own broken rhythm. Like you shouldn’t be watching, but you keep doing it anyway because there’s something too human about all that skin and guilt tangled together.

Xweb looks like something a horny creep coded after binging too much Black Mirror and porn parody anime, and honestly that’s the charm. You’re this “Secret User” in a sketchy underground app where strangers send you messed up requests, and you answer them by typing out custom commands, like you’re tech support for perverts and psychos. One guy wants his cheating wife exposed, another wants to stalk an idol with ridiculous tits, someone else is begging you to fix a cursed sex tape that literally kills people who watch it. The UI keeps pinging your phone like Telegram plus OnlyFans plus something that really should get your device seized at airport security. Between answering clients, the story cuts to animated scenes where your choices clearly messed up someone’s life or turned them into your next obsessed toy. It’s not just “click to see boobs” either; the conversations are surprisingly long and filthy, with the girls oversharing way too fast, sending pics that get more hardcore the more you push them. One moment a shy student is asking if it’s wrong to fantasize about her professor, next moment she’s sending you a video of her riding a dildo in the dim light, her huge tits bouncing like it’s a cheap camshow and she keeps whispering your username like it’s sacred. There’s real horny energy in how the text, the voices, and the little animations sync up, even if sometimes the English sounds like Google Translate having a stroke.

Sex-wise the game goes hard into the whole “harem in a horror movie” mood. You’ve got multiple girls orbiting around this Xweb nonsense, each one with their own flavor of messed up. The soft-spoken one with the big ass who “accidentally” leaves her camera on while she changes. The cosplayer with huge boobs who keeps sending you low-angle shots, then later ends up in a corrupted stream where something in the background is not human. Scenes can flip from erotic to creepy without warning. One minute she’s on all fours, moaning while you pound her pussy in some cheap motel with neon light flashing through the window, the next minute the video glitches and her face distorts for a second, like something from a cursed tape, before snapping back while she’s still begging you not to stop. It’s weirdly hot. The vaginal sex is animated in that simple 2D style where everything is about the rhythm: her ass slamming back into your hips, the wet sounds cranked up way too loud, cum filling her and then dripping down her thighs in looping shots that are almost hypnotic. You can tell where the artist spent all the effort: tits and asses wobble, nipples get hard, her expression changes with each thrust, and sometimes it looks a bit off perspective-wise but that just kind of adds to the dirty feel, like you shouldn’t even be watching this. The parody side quietly sneaks in when you recognize archetypes from big anime and mainstream games, but warped, like a “totally not that famous witch girl” with a hat way too big and cleavage even bigger, or a “not that survival horror cop chick at all” who somehow ends up tied to a chair, riding your cock for her life while something claws at the door. Xweb mixes shit that shouldn’t go together: tech support, time travel talk, a hitman looking for you in the real world, and somehow you still end up focusing on one thing: whose tight little virtual hole are you filling next while the entire world apparently goes to hell around you.