You wander through this dead, sunburned Egypt where the sand is full of bones and broken tech, and somehow your biggest problem keeps becoming “who am I fucking tonight and how hard.” The game throws you in as this desert scavenger who is supposed to be hunting relics and old-world junk, but every time you push deeper into the ruins you just keep stumbling into more messed up, horny situations. One second you are negotiating with some half-feral tribal girl who wants water, the next second she is on her knees between your legs in a crumbling temple, sand dust falling from the ceiling while she gags on your cock and tries to keep eye contact like it’s some kind of ritual. The story pretends to care about fate, old gods, this artifact that can twist the future and all that, but the real tension is always “do you ruin this person, or do you pretend to be her savior while still using her body.” It feels wrong and hot at the same time, like you are playing with a broken toy that still smiles at you.

What actually keeps it interesting is how many different flavors of messed up it has. You have girls who melt the second you humiliate them in front of others, being dragged by a collar through a ruined street while people stare. You have this strict, icy woman who acts like she owns you, spitting orders and making you lick her feet, only for you to later chain her up in some underground chamber and fuck her until she cries and drools milk all over herself. One girl is shy and flat, another stacked and leaking, and the game really doesn’t care if you want to turn the whole ruined pyramid complex into your personal harem, breeding them, sharing them with your allies, or letting them “serve” as slaves in some filthy market. Sometimes the sex is slow and almost tender, bodies pressed together on dusty sheets in a half-collapsed apartment, sometimes it jumps into full-on horror, with blood, screaming, and you still hard while something awful drips down her thighs. You get pissing scenes in dirty showers, public use in alleys, group scenes in torch-lit chambers where everybody is sweaty and no one really knows who is fucking who anymore. There are moments where you feel like a monster, forcing a girl to strip in front of her own family, or making a daughter watch what you do to her mother, and the game just lets that hang there, no hand holding, no “good boy” message, just your choices and the way these broken people cling to you anyway. Then five minutes later you are clicking through some dialog that feels like it came from a hentai shitpost and laughing because it is so blunt and stupid. It is rough, filthy, sometimes too much, sometimes not enough, but it sticks in your head like the taste of sweat and sand on someone’s skin.

Clara’s “Love Hotel” feels like the place your horny brain built when you were fifteen and your wallet was already imagining sugar daddies. It’s not some classy high-society escort fantasy. It’s cheap perfume, sticky elevator buttons, and girls who still check their phone between clients. You follow a teen girl getting sucked into Clara’s world, going from “I’m just looking for some extra cash” to happily spreading her legs for whatever rich pervert books the suite. The whole thing plays like a kinetic visual novel where you’re mostly there to watch her brain rewire itself around money, cock, and control, with Clara pulling strings and smiling like a sexy devil in a tight dress. The story doesn’t rush. First it’s teasing and striptease in those themed rooms, girls grinding slowly while the client watches like a creep through tinted glass, then the jobs start getting nastier: anal for an extra wad of bills, creampies that drip out while Clara counts the cash, toys shoved in to keep the girl “ready” for the next guy. You barely make a choice, you just sit there like a voyeur, and somehow that fits the whole hotel vibe perfectly.

One moment that stuck in my head had the main girl lying on silk sheets while an older woman, a full-on milf type with that rich cougar aura, just toys with her for a client hidden behind the curtain. She whispers to the teen how she’s nothing but a fucktoy now, fingers deep, thumb circling her clit, and the hotel’s camera quietly recording every twitch for “private archives.” The girl pretends to be shy at first, but the game doesn’t keep that illusion long. By the time Clara pairs her with a calm, serious dilf businessman, she’s already the one pushing his cock inside, asking if he wants to finish in her ass or her pussy because “Clara gives bonuses for messy endings.” There’s a fun little moment where two lesbians working the same floor sneak into an empty room between clients, toys buzzing, tongue on tongue, and you realize they’re half doing it for pleasure and half to warm up before the next paying guest. The corruption doesn’t feel cartoonish, more like a slow slide where you watch the girl go from flinching at her first blowjob to riding a stranger like it’s just a normal shift. Some scenes lean more romantic, weirdly enough, especially when a regular client starts bringing gifts and treating her like his personal escort, and the game kind of pretends there’s “love” in a place that operates like a brothel. It’s messy, horny, sometimes sweet, sometimes nasty, and it never apologizes for treating every girl in that hotel as both employee and property, legs open on demand while Clara counts the profits with that lazy, satisfied smile.

Second year at Wentford is supposed to be about skipping lectures, half‑assed lab reports and maybe getting laid at some drunk dorm party if you’re lucky. Instead, you blow up one after‑class experiment, wake up with a dick, tits, curves and a body that can’t decide if it wants to be the heroine of a romance VN or the main attraction of Pornhub’s weirdest search page. The game throws you right into that “oh shit” feeling: you’re still you, same memories, same best friend from childhood, same crushes, but now every shower, every locker room, every crowded hallway in campus hits different. People you knew look at you in a new way. Some stare. Some pretend they don’t, then you catch them in the mirror. The whole vibe is “I’m not supposed to be turned on by this” while you’re very obviously turned on by this. It’s funny too, in that stupid meme way. The script has dumb jokes about bad chemistry puns, Dragon Ball references that are slightly wrong on purpose, and horny banter that actually sounds like Discord chat, not like some old dude trying to write “modern youth”. One moment you’re trying to figure out your schedule, next moment your professor bends over the desk and your new dick has its own plans. There is this scene in the lab, where you try to hide a raging futa boner behind a clipboard while your best friend talks about reaction yields, and the animation focuses on her lips way more than on the glassware. It’s not subtle. At all.

Sex stuff ramps up slowly if you want, then suddenly you’re juggling a horny roommate with big tits who “accidentally” walks around in a crop top, a milf neighbor who brings you homemade cookies and checks your “recovery”, and a bunch of girls at campus who think you’re the coolest freak accident ever. Sometimes it’s soft and romantic, kissing in the rain near the dorms, slow handjob in the dark, quiet little I‑love‑you that feels too real. Then next route it’s you buried between a thick ass and a pillow, watching your own cock slide into someone while another girl sits on your face, and you’re like, yeah ok, this escalated. There is lesbian stuff, there is full futa on girl pounding, there is anal that starts with teasing and ends with a messy creampie where you didn’t expect it, there is even that one scene where you get a footjob on the couch while another girl pretends to watch Netflix on her phone. Animations are short loops but they hit the right spots: hips rolling, cum spurts, tongue on clit, subtle ass jiggle. I like that they show the body transformation not just as “haha now you’re hot” but as corruption too. Your choices push you toward being caring and romantic, or a voyeur creep spying through doors, or a jealous cheater who fucks someone raw then still goes home to cuddle another girl like nothing happened. The interracial stuff slips in like it’s no big deal, which I personally like, but some people might want more build‑up there. I kinda wish the school parts had more actual studying, more chemistry puzzles or something, but who am I kidding, nobody loads an eroge for balanced academia. I opened it “just to check it out” on my phone, next thing I know I’m doing route math in a Google Keep note and replaying that scene where your best friend slowly goes from shy curiosity to grinding on your lap in the dorm chair. And there was something I wanted to say about titfucking in the bathroom stall, but now I’m thinking about the corrupted version of that same girl later, when she offers herself to a whole group like it’s totally natural, and I forgot what my point was. Anyway, the game is one long, horny identity crisis with big asses, big choices and that special kind of campus chaos where every door you open might have someone masturbating behind it, including you.

Michelle looks like the girl in your office who always leaves at exactly 5, hair perfect, life probably on rails. Except here she is in sweaty, neon Hong Kong streets in 1986, slowly losing her grip on that “good daughter, good employee” mask because one tiny, stubborn, chain-smoking woman named Sam keeps flirting with her in ways that are way too gentle to ignore and way too dirty to be innocent. The game starts pretty tame, all long bus rides, quiet apartment scenes, small talk about movies and clothes, but the whole time the camera lingers on thighs under skirts, fingers brushing on handrails, the little hesitation when Michelle looks at Sam’s mouth while they share a drink. It’s a slow, frustrating kind of heat, like when you’re stuck on Zoom meetings and sexting on Telegram on the side, except here it’s cassette tapes and payphones and cramped bedrooms with thin walls and parents one room away. The erotic stuff doesn’t explode in your face with instant porn. It creeps in. One kiss in a dark cinema where Michelle is stiff at first, almost scared, then you see her lips part, her hands tremble, and you can almost hear her swallow before she gives in and pulls Sam closer. Tongues, teeth, that wet sound, and she keeps her eyes half open like she still cannot believe she is letting another woman taste her like that.

When it finally goes past kissing, it hits like someone yanked the curtain down. You get these long, quiet scenes on a bed where the sheets are a bit messy, clothes half off, bras sliding down arms, Michelle trying to cover herself at first and Sam just laughing low and kissing every bit she tries to hide. There is a moment where Sam goes down on her, and it’s not some porn-speed blowjob logic. It is slow and almost awkward, Michelle gripping the bedsheet because she does not even have the words in her own language for what is happening between her legs. The text describes every tiny reaction, how her thighs twitch, how she tries to keep her voice down because her mother could walk past the door, how her hips start grinding against Sam’s mouth anyway, shame turning into this fucked up relief. You can tell the writers actually understand how it feels when you are eating pussy like you care about the person, not like you are checking off positions. There are pauses, deep breaths, a little laugh from Sam when Michelle whimpers a bit too loudly, and then she doubles down, tongue and lips and fingers working together until Michelle is shaking so hard she almost pushes her away. That first orgasm is not “perfect”, it feels real, messy, emotional, like she just broke some rule she has been obeying her whole life.

Under all that sex there is this heavy layer of family and culture pressure that honestly turned me on more than I expected, because the guilt makes everything spicier and more fucked up. Michelle sneaks back home smelling like cigarettes and someone else’s perfume, lies to her mother at the dinner table while still feeling Sam’s fingers inside her if she closes her eyes for a second. There are choices where you can lean into the romance, keep seeing Sam, or try to “fix” yourself and go back to the safe, straight, lonely path everyone expects. Some endings feel like a punch in the gut, some feel like a small rebellion that might not last forever but at least burns hot while it exists. It is a romantic story, yeah, there is sweetness, hand holding, soft kisses, that feeling when you are falling in love and every bus ride feels like a music video, but the game never really lets you forget that this is two women trying to build something intimate and wet and tender inside a world that keeps telling them they are wrong. That clash is what makes the sex scenes hit so hard. When Sam whispers “you’re mine tonight” while Michelle’s family photos are literally watching from the shelf, it feels dirty in the best way, like she is betraying everything for the chance to have her own life, her own pleasure, even if it all goes to hell later.