You arrive in this shiny new country thinking you’re some big brain office guy, right? Good job, clean contract, boring little grey cubicle, “fresh start” bullshit. Then the game pretty much slaps you in the face and reminds you you’re just another idiot who got a little too confident with the company money. One wrong spreadsheet, one little “adjustment,” and suddenly your whole life hangs on a few screenshots in someone else’s hands. It’s not “oh no, moral drama, what shall I do” either. It’s more like: here’s the trap, here’s your throat, and here’s the boot that’s going to rest on it while you jerk off and hate yourself. And the boot has painted toenails.

Home life is worse. Or better. Depends how broken you are. Your roommates are all too pretty and too relaxed about personal space. You think it’s a harem, but it’s actually a fucking HR complaint waiting to happen if anyone cared. They catch you staring. They don’t get shy. They get ideas. The game likes to take simple domestic stuff and twist it. You come home from the office, brain fried from trying not to get caught, and a girl is lying on the couch in tight gym shorts, one leg over the backrest, looking at you like she already read your browser history. She’s “innocently” asking how your day at work was, then suddenly she knows way too much about an “accounting error” and has a folder on her phone that sure as hell doesn’t look like memes. It’s not instant sex. It’s worse. It’s that slow “sit down, shut up, and listen to my conditions” smile. She’ll make you kneel in your own living room and call it a “test,” while the TV quietly plays some random show and you’re there, half hard, half terrified. There’s this one moment where she drags you to the gym under the excuse of “you’re getting soft,” and you think you’re just doing some squats. Next thing, you’re doing push-ups while she sits on your back, shorts riding up, whispering in your ear what will happen to those little files if your arms stop moving. People walk by. They see a trainer pushing a client hard. They don’t hear her telling you exactly how you’ll lick sweat from her toes later if you want your job.

The corruption stuff is where the game really doesn’t pretend to be nice. You start off trying to fight it, making these little choices like “I’ll resist, I’ll say no, I’ll be a man of principle,” and the narrative just smiles and shows you how cheap your principles are when your boss might see photos of you on your knees in the women’s locker room, holding a bra in your mouth because some smug girl told you that’s how dogs should carry things. The blackmail angle isn’t some side tag; it’s the spine. Every request is layered: “Touch me here, say this, sign that document, send this email.” Sexual humiliation gets tangled with office politics in this nasty way. You might be jerking off in a bathroom stall, watching a short clip of your roommate’s foot grinding into your face while she calls you her “little embezzling toy,” and at the same time you’re waiting on a message that decides if your career lives or dies. And yeah, the scenes get hardcore. There are CGs where your whole body language screams “I want to disappear” while your cock is straining against your pants, getting slapped, stepped on, used like a prop in their little power games. The girls don’t just dominate you physically; they dig into your shame, into that sick part of you that loves being treated like you’re lower than dirt. One of them makes you strip in the office after hours, under harsh neon lights, and she takes pictures with your own phone, giggling, then casually sets your wallpaper to your naked, collared self. Later, during a real meeting, you unlock the phone out of habit and almost drop it when the screen lights up. That’s the vibe: horny, uncomfortable, mean, and somehow you keep clicking “next” anyway.

Your mission started as a simple task: to transport a prisoner from one realm to another. But as anyone who’s faced danger knows, simplicity is often just an illusion. Stranded on a hostile planet with dangers lurking in every shadow, your choices narrow instantly. Do you risk seeking help alone, navigating unknown perils with only your wits and weapons? Or do you forge a tenuous alliance with the prisoner, whose fate is now entwined with yours? Each path holds its own dangers and rewards, and the lines between friend and foe blur easily here. Only action will reveal which choice leads to salvation and which drags you deeper into chaos. Prepare to dive headfirst into a savage struggle for survival, where alliances shift like sand and danger hides behind every rock. Will you break chains and carve a path to freedom, or become just another lost soul swallowed by this violent world? Dive into this gripping adventure now and make your mark in a story where every choice pulses with danger and desire.

You wake up in this “clinic” that looks less like a hospital and more like some rich asshole’s idea of rehab, and right away you feel something’s off. They keep calling you “patient” and acting like you volunteered, but the main guy literally says your sponsor signed you in because you “couldn’t handle yourself.” Which is bullshit, by the way. First thing that hits you is how quiet everything is. No TV in your room, no phone, no Discord, nothing, just white walls and a schedule you never asked for. Then she walks in: your counselor. Fake warm smile, soft voice, tight blouse, older than you but not old, definitely knows how her body looks when she leans over the desk. She talks like she cares about your “recovery,” but every question feels like she already decided the answer and just waits for you to say it wrong so she can “correct” you. You think it’s just another boring VN at first, like yeah yeah, talk about your problems, pick the good little boy dialogue. Then she slides this “reflection form” over, with options that are basically “admit you’re broken” or “prove you need more treatment,” and you realize the game’s not letting you be neutral. Everything you say gets twisted. You tell her you’re fine and she smiles, writes something on her tablet, and boom: next session your clothing options in the wardrobe suddenly changed.

That wardrobe thing pissed me off more than it should. First day you’ve got your normal clothes: hoodie, jeans, basic stuff. Then after she “adjusts your therapy plan,” the casual wear menu has these softer tops, smaller sizes, things that look like they’d cling in the wrong places. And the game doesn’t scream “HEY LOOK YOU’RE CHANGING,” it just quietly replaces the old shit. You only notice because you try to put on the hoodie again and it’s just gone. I spent way too long clicking around that stupid closet, expecting it to pop back up if I backed out, like it was a bug, but no, this is on purpose. Same thing with the “mindfulness exercises.” At the start it’s boring breathing stuff, then suddenly the audio script has you “imagining your body becoming smoother, lighter, softer” like it’s some harmless relaxation tape. After you listen a couple times, your reflection in the bathroom mirror looks a tiny bit different, but nobody comments, not even the MC, which somehow makes it creepier. And the counselor acts like all this is perfectly normal. She starts calling you by these pet names, praises you when you pick the submissive options, and when you push back she doesn’t punish you directly, she just “recommends additional medication.” You wake up after “group therapy” and your voice lines read a little more shy, more unsure, like the game itself is rewriting how you talk. The older women in charge clearly enjoy watching you squirm, especially when they walk you through “behavioural practice” that is just code for them making you perform in front of them, and you can tell the whole place is basically one big machine meant to take a messed up dude and turn him into exactly what they want. The wild part is you start catching yourself choosing the more humiliating answers on purpose, just to see how far they’ll push you, then pretending you hate it, while still clicking “continue” like an idiot.

It’s weird how this game feels both filthy and kinda wholesome at the same time. Like, you’re just a farmer, right? Doing your chores, minding your crops, and suddenly there’s this pig-girl princess showing up in your barn acting like she owns the place. She’s spoiled as hell but somehow adorable, rolling her eyes while asking you to “show her how humans do it.” The writing doesn’t even pretend to be subtle - one second you’re talking about feeding pigs, next thing you’re milking something that definitely isn’t a cow. The transitions are janky in a funny way, like the devs knew exactly what they were doing and didn’t care if it made sense. Honestly, I respect that kind of chaos.

The humor hits that perfect spot between dumb and clever. There’s a scene where the royal advisor tries to lecture you about “proper conduct with livestock” while you’re literally hiding behind hay bales with the princess moaning your name. It’s stupidly hot and stupidly funny. And the futa twist? Didn’t see that coming (pun totally intended). The first time it happens, you just stare for a second like - wait, did that just grow? But it works because the tone never shifts into serious mode; it stays playful, teasing, constantly flirting with absurdity. There’s even a lactation gag that somehow turns into a group scene, and by then you’ve stopped questioning logic entirely. You just go with it.

I kinda wish the farmer had more dialogue options though; sometimes he just grunts or blushes when you want him to say something dirtier. But maybe that’s part of the charm - you project your own filth onto him. The art style’s got that soft, round look that makes everything feel warm even when it’s absolute debauchery. And yeah, I laughed out loud when the princess called herself “royal pork” mid-handjob. Who writes that? Whoever they are, they get it. It’s horny, messy, self-aware, and doesn’t apologize for any of it.