Bella starts this summer as the kind of girl everyone pretends not to see. Soft, quiet, hiding inside baggy clothes and headphones, shuffling between campus and home with her eyes on the floor. Big body, small voice. Guys bump into her in the hallway and only say sorry to her books. Professors forget her name. She knows exactly how invisible she is, and it hurts more because she is still a virgin and her head is full of dirty thoughts she never dares to say out loud. Porn tabs minimized, vibrator hidden under thick sweaters, searching for “romantic first time” and then ending up watching girls choking on thick cocks and wondering why that turns her on so much. Then she goes to her grandmother’s little house in the middle of nowhere, expecting boring tea and old photos, and instead gets told that every woman in her family can ask a goddess to rewrite her body. Not her grades, not her personality. Her curves. Her tits. Her ass. Bella goes to sleep fat, shy and untouched, and wakes up with a waist her hands can wrap around, a huge ass that fights every pair of panties she owns, and breasts so heavy and perfect they spill out of the old comfy bra before she can even hook it. Same quiet girl, now trapped inside a body built for sin.

Returning home with that body is where the real corruption starts. The game leans hard into that contrast: she still thinks like the girl who sat in the back row, but every guy around her is suddenly staring at her chest first and her eyes second, if at all. Walking through campus is a whole event now. You actually feel the moment she realizes her tits bounce under her top, and there is this little scene with her trying to hold her notebook against her chest, pretending it is about modesty while the outline of her big boobs presses against the paper. Andrew, the childhood friend, tries very hard to keep his eyes on her face, but his jeans say something else. You get to decide how long he keeps pretending. Do you make her tease him, bending over just a bit too much, letting that big ass push against his lap when they sit on the couch playing some “innocent” co-op game, acting like she has no idea his cock is rock hard under the blanket? Or does she stay clueless longer, only slowly noticing that every time she leans forward his voice cracks and he has to adjust himself, and she goes home and masturbates to the memory of the bulge, fucking herself with her fingers and imagining what his big dick would feel like stretching her tight, untouched pussy until she can’t stay quiet anymore?

The tone swings nicely between fantasy and awkward, which fits her pretty well. One path can keep her sweet and romantic: slow kisses in her bedroom with the door half open, her sitting on top of Andrew, oversized hoodie sliding up to show the curve of her big ass, his hands shaking when he finally cups her massive tits for the first time through her bra, almost worshipping them. Her first blowjob can be shy and messy, drool on his stomach, her gagging a little on the size but pushing deeper because seeing him lose control hits something deep inside her. Another path lets her taste what happens when a girl with an hourglass bombshell body realizes the world is full of horny men who stopped seeing her as “that chubby quiet one” and now just see a walking fantasy. Older neighbor with thick forearms blurting out compliments when she bends over to pick up the mail, professor who suddenly offers “private tutoring” and stares at her cleavage the whole time, random jock who used to bump past her without looking and now can’t stop DMing her late at night asking what her new bra size is. You can play Bella as scared but curious, or as slowly addicted to the power of making big, muscular guys stutter just by crossing her legs and letting them imagine how that tight, newly shaped pussy would squeeze them. There is real romance if you want it, but there is also the dirty thrill of a former nobody riding a cock on a cheap mattress, big breasts bouncing, moaning too loud, thinking “I used to be invisible” right as she feels hot cum fill her for the first time and realizes her whole life can revolve around who gets to fuck this new body next.

Kislev looks normal at first glance. Streetlights, cheap shops, that one park bench where everyone pretends not to stare at each other. Then you notice how empty it feels, like the city is holding its breath. Officials keep saying “just a weird cold, nothing serious,” while half the people you meet have this strange tired look in their eyes and the other half are just horny as fuck and pretending nothing is wrong. You play this dude who goes “yeah, I’m out, I’m leaving the city until shit calms down,” but of course he’s late, like every protagonist with a big ego and a bigger cock. And somehow running away turns into drifting deeper into this mess of sex, money, and that quiet fear that maybe tomorrow you won’t wake up at all. Or worse, you will.

The whole thing feels like a fantasy about the end of the world where everyone deals with panic by getting freaky. You’re out there sweet talking thick women with soft bellies and massive tits spilling out of bras that never quite fit. There’s something really nice about how the chubby girls are treated, actually. They’re not a joke, not “before the glow up,” they’re just hot. Big asses, big boobs, big everything, and the camera really takes its time. You’re flirting, buying them shiny crap like cars and jewelry, acting like some budget sugar daddy, and half the time you know it’s stupid but it works, so you keep doing it. One milf leans over your new car, huge tits pressed against the window while she asks you if the seats are comfy enough to “test suspension.” And yeah, you say something smooth. Or you try. I misclicked the dialogue, told her something lame, and she still ended up palming my dick through my pants, super slow, teasing like she has all the time in the world even though the city might be dying around us. That scene actually made me pause Spotify because I wanted to hear every tiny sound. Then I put Spotify back, because I’m an idiot.

I like how the MC’s cock is treated like an actual presence. When a thick girl wraps her soft fingers around it for a lazy handjob, the visual really sells the weight, the size, the way her cheeks flush like “fuck, I didn’t expect it this big.” There’s a moment where a bbw presses your shaft between her heavy tits, and you can practically feel the warmth off the screen. It’s detailed, but sometimes weirdly clumsy, like the dev spent 3 days on the curve of a nipple and 3 minutes on the background. Also whoever designed the jewelry shop UI clearly hates humans, I swear one button is half a pixel off and it still annoys me. The game likes to tease too much sometimes: lots of grinding, lots of “almost” scenes before you finally get release, but when you do, it’s thick, messy, and right in her face or over her giant chest, and she looks proud like she just survived the apocalypse by taking your load. The virus, the panic, the lies from the authorities, it all just becomes this excuse for everyone to live harder, fuck louder, and pretend choices still matter. They probably don’t, but you keep clicking like they do.

New town, new job, new giant horny mess. The whole thing starts with you dragging your tired ass into this weirdly serious pharma company, Palmer-Pharma, while every single woman around you looks like she escaped from a “thick and dangerous” catalog. The boss wants to see you on Sunday, which already screams “this is not about paperwork, honey,” your phone is gone, you barely know where you sleep tonight, and then you meet your landlady with hips that could cause traffic accidents. Game’s like: welcome, you are stressed, lost, and also surrounded by big tits and asses that do not believe in subtlety. Real HR problem, but in a fun way.

Once you start moving around town, it turns into this slow, horny tour of every curvy grown woman in a ten-mile radius. None of that barely-legal nonsense, these are women who pay bills, remember your schedule, and still somehow have time to pin you to the sofa and jerk you off while complaining about their ex. One moment you’re talking about lab procedures with the assistant who pretends to be all serious, glasses and clipboard, and next thing, she’s teasing you with that “oh, is that for me?” look, brushing her hand over your bulge and pretending it’s an accident. The receptionist? She switches from snarky gatekeeper to “I locked the door, now sit on this chair and don’t talk” while she kneels between your legs and takes her sweet time with her mouth. And she does that thing where she stops right before you cum, smiles, then goes back like she’s tasting wine. That detail annoyed me in the best way and I swear I’m still mad about it. I’m also still thinking about that barmaid, the one who hands you a drink, leans over the counter with her huge boobs almost falling out, and spends five minutes just playing with your self-control. Like, she’ll casually press her soft belly against you on the way past, whisper something filthy in your ear, then pretend she said nothing. The scenes go from handjobs on sagging couches, lazy morning oral with messy hair and no makeup, to hard, slow vaginal sex where the camera really loves the jiggle, the folds, the way big asses move when you’re deep inside. It’s not shy about any of it. There are choices everywhere, which you will totally forget about because your brain has turned into “which thick woman do I fuck today” mode, but those choices actually branch out into different scenes and endings, so your horny indecision has consequences. Also, I keep thinking about that one tiny animation where the landlady adjusts her top after you finish on her chest, like she gives this little “ugh, men” smile, wipes it with a tissue, and I spent far too long replaying that instead of doing literally anything useful. Anyway. The whole thing feels like you got dropped into a town where every chubby, soft, mature woman secretly wants to either mother you a bit, or ride you until you forget your name, sometimes both in the same scene, and yes, it’s a mess, but it’s my kind of mess.

This one feels like someone took a comfy slice‑of‑life drama, locked it in a room, fed it way too much dessert, tied it up with a bunch of horny ideas about control, and then just let it slowly swell until nobody fits their old clothes anymore. You’re not just clicking through porn scenes here, you’re basically sliding into people’s lives and messing with the one thing they’re trying to keep steady: food, routine, and how much space their bodies are taking up. Girls start out “normal” chubby, then your choices quietly push them toward soft bellies, thicker thighs, boobs pressing against uniforms that really need new sizes. It’s not a sudden cartoon inflation, more like, one more snack, one more late-night delivery, one more “you look fine, trust me”, and you blink and go, ok, she actually grew a lot. The game leans hard into that mix of comfort and shame: they talk about being tired, about stress, about wanting to feel wanted, and you’re there like the little devil on their shoulder, handing them another plate and acting like it’s totally no big deal.

What makes it hit different is how slow and personal it feels. Conversations drag you in, they’re not just “click to fuck”. You’re asking about their day, about work, about why they always order the same greasy thing from that food app even when they swear they’re going to “eat better”. Then, little by little, they start trusting you. Letting you decide what they eat, how much, when they skip the gym. Sometimes it’s honestly sweet: you comfort a stressed girl with a big meal and she melts a bit, leans on you, tummy peeking when she slumps on the couch. Other times it’s darker, like when you nudge someone past the point she’s comfortable with and she still says yes because you’re the one paying attention to her. The control side sneaks in there: you choosing her portions, you telling her she looks beautiful tied to a chair, arms behind her, cheeks full of cake, belly pushing out, and she’s half embarrassed, half turned on. There is a harem structure going on, but it never feels like some clean checklist. It’s messy, like juggling chats, trying not to mix up who likes being praised for getting thicker and who is still pretending this is “temporary stress weight” while you’re literally the one making sure it isn’t. At some point you realize you’re basically running a quiet little cult of comfort eating and pretty captives, and the wild part is how normal it all felt on the way there.