Office job, boring life, same cheap instant coffee every morning, and then suddenly your dick is gone and your ass looks like something from those Twitter thirst posts. That is the vibe here. One day you are this invisible drone in a suit, the kind of guy no one remembers in the elevator, next day you wake up with tits that do not fit your old shirt and the whole city looking at you like fresh meat on sale. It is not some noble magical destiny thing either. It feels dirty and mean in a good way. People around you start pushing, touching, “helping” you adjust to your new body. Some are sweet, some are creepy as hell, half of them want to get inside your pants, the other half want to own you. And you can lean into it. Or pretend you are not into it while your clothes keep getting shorter.

The nice thing is that nothing is clean cut. You can be that shy mess who blushes when a girl kisses your neck in the bathroom stall or let yourself get dragged into a backroom and end the night with smeared lipstick and sore knees. There is this one early scene that sold me: you are in a crowded bar, still not used to walking in heels, trying to keep your new boobs from jumping out of the dress someone “helped” you choose. Some office colleague who barely talked to you before corners you at the bar, offers a drink, hand on your hip, fingers slowly sliding lower. You can shove him off, play along to get something out of him, or just let him use your mouth right there while people pretend not to look. And it is not just straight trashy stuff either. The girls in this game are dangerous. One of the women at work, proper milf with that strict boss energy, takes you “for coffee” and suddenly you are on your knees between her thighs in a locked conference room, her nails in your hair, telling you this is the only way to keep your new position. Felt like someone recorded a Pornhub Premium audition and turned it into a choice. I was lowkey impressed and also annoyed because the text box covers part of her face and it drives me crazy every single time.

It pretends to be a romantic thing sometimes, with all these dating bits and little stats going up, but under the sugar it is pure corruption. The game loves putting you in situations where you say “just this once” and five minutes later you are the office slut everyone gropes when the lift door closes. One path had me playing nice with this nerdy girl who seems harmless, then she shows up in full cosplay at a convention, ropes you into a couple costume, and suddenly she is sliding her hand under your skirt in a crowded hallway, whispering how no one will notice if you stay quiet. Another time I went the total bimbo route, jacking up every sexy option, getting pumped full of “vitamins,” brain getting softer, outfits getting tighter, ending up on my back with a small crowd taking turns while someone records it on their phone. It is filthy, it is messy, text sometimes stumbles like my own ESL brain, and the AI-style art can look a bit cursed on hands if you stare too long, but somehow that fits the whole “your life is spiraling out of control” feeling. I kept telling myself I would play the classy path, no weird power games, no blackmail, and ten clicks later I am signing a shady contract while a guy has his fingers inside me under the desk and my so-called “friend” is snapping pics in the corner like it is no big deal. Anyway, I’m absolutely not addicted, I can quit after just one more scene.