Japan in this game feels like someone took a horny sci fi reddit thread, fed it into ChatGPT on a bad day, then handed it to a very pervy writer with a school uniform fetish and a grudge. You land there as this kinda average 19-year-old dude, supposed to be an exchange student, pretending you care about classes while your brain is just full of your crush Julie’s tits and that tight ass she keeps pretending she doesn’t notice you staring at. Of course she brings her cute friend Alice, who acts like a good girl but gives you those tiny side glances that say “choke me a little, please.” On top of that, there is this whole mystery about Julie’s missing sister and a company that makes hyper realistic sex dolls, but half the time I kept forgetting about the plot because the game keeps throwing you in situations where you are either groping, being teased, or trying not to cum in your pants in some school hallway. The tone jumps around like crazy: one moment you flirt shyly in a classroom, next you are slapping a doll’s ass raw and making her call you master while your friend is in the next room. That mix actually works better than it should. It feels messy and dirty, in a good way.

The whole “Love Dolls” company thing is the part that stuck with me. Those dolls are basically walking sex toys with soft skin, big tits, big asses, and eyes that look a bit too human when you tell them to open their mouth wider and they just obey without question. They are made to be used, to be trained, to be humiliated. You can press them against a wall, pull their hair, force their legs apart, make them kneel on a cold floor and clean your dick with their tongue while you stare down like they’re nothing. There is this one scene where you are still acting like the innocent foreign student on the outside but behind a locked door you are pushing a doll face down on a school desk, fingers digging into her hips, pounding her so hard the animation actually sells the impact. Her tits bounce, her ass jiggles, she moans like a broken toy, and you know very well you are not supposed to be doing this in a place with textbooks and chalkboards. That mix of “I shouldn’t” and “I really, really will” is where the game shines. It goes from gentle teasing and soft kisses with your crush to rough anal with a doll chained to a bed, and the game barely blinks. You get moments of romance, then suddenly you’re strapping a toy to a girl, making her ride it until she’s shaking, and the MC is just watching with this fucked up curiosity like “what else can I do to her?” It’s not subtle, it’s not classy, and it absolutely doesn’t pretend to be. Which is kind of perfect for what it is.

Jamie feels like that guy you see in every Discord server who’s always online, always “one more match,” and somehow still confused why his life is going to shit. The game throws you into his head and also out of it, since you hop to other points of view too, but it never asks what you think. It just drags you through this messy school-life drama where sex is basically the only honest language anybody speaks. One minute you’re in the classroom with all the usual fake politeness, the next you’re watching a hand slide under a desk, fingers pressing into thigh, then panties, then nothing. And because it’s kinetic, you don’t get that safety of “oh I’ll pick the nice option.” There is no nice option. Stuff just happens, and it gets worse, and you kind of hate it and keep clicking anyway.

Kim is supposed to be the “good girl,” loyal and patient while Jamie hides in his games, but the story keeps poking holes in that fake ideal. She’s waiting for him, horny, frustrated, touching herself alone while he’s busy chasing loot instead of her tits. Then William shows up, all calm and composed, the kind of guy who actually listens, and you know where that goes. Not suddenly, not with fireworks, more like slow rot. A shoulder touch at the lockers. A “joke” about how she could do better. Walking her home. Fingers brushing her lower back. Next thing, you’re staring at an internal view of his cock in her, thick and detailed, cum pouring straight into her like she hasn’t had a boyfriend in months. The weird thing is, the game never pauses to guilt-trip anyone. Netorare is just treated like weather: it rains, you get wet, nobody asks permission.

The sex is filthy in that very direct way that doesn’t feel like porn dialogue written by someone who never touched a person. There is anal that isn’t romantic at all, just rough and controlling, with her knees shaking and her mouth saying “no, we can’t” while her body obviously can. There’s groping on the train, hands on big tits while strangers look away, that ugly little realism of harassment where the world pretends nothing is happening. The “trap” angle sneaks in sideways, you think one character is just a shy boy and suddenly you’re watching him get pinned and used, his ass spread open, treated like a toy but there is this tiny flicker of pleasure in his eyes that fucks with your moral compass. The futa and trans stuff doesn’t show up as some big “special episode” either, it just exists in the cast, like yeah, she has a dick and she’s jerking it in the bathroom stall thinking about corrupting someone’s girlfriend later, why are you surprised?

Gay scenes hit different, more like raw territory fights than romance. Two guys testing each other, dominance games in the locker room, a blowjob that starts as a threat and turns into something way more confusing when the “victim” starts pushing back instead of pulling away. There’s interracial stuff folded in without big speeches, just visual contrast and constant power plays, like the game is obsessed with who owns who in every frame. Masturbation is everywhere, almost casual, everyone doing it: Jamie half-hard in bed with his phone, Kim in the shower trying not to say William’s name, some side character hunched over a desk in the empty classroom, panting quietly so the teacher in the next room doesn’t hear. And the whole time, corruption is the slow heartbeat underneath. Nobody wakes up a monster. They just make one small compromise, then one more, until cheating feels less like betrayal and more like gravity. The really annoying part? At one point I tried to scroll back by muscle memory, like on Telegram, to check a line I missed, and my thumb kept hitting the wrong place, and I still don’t know what that one whispered line before the creampie was. It bugs me more than it should.

You wake up wrong. That is the first thing that hit me. Not heroic, not cool cyberpunk badass, just this sick, half-loaded feeling like your soul got dragged through a glitchy Pornhub ad. You’re in your backup sleeve, lying in some cheap future med-bay, the kind that smells like burnt plastic and sex lube, and your own body doesn’t quite fit. Your fingers are a bit too long, your chest feels heavy in a way it shouldn’t, heart rate monitor chirping like a horny bird, and your vision keeps tearing like a bad stream on xVideos. Crew’s a mess, ship’s a mess, and your upload is corrupted enough that if you calm down, you die. Which is a fucked up way of saying: you literally need to be kept turned on just to keep your brain from shutting off.

The “keep his heart rate up” thing sounds like a cheesy porn excuse, and yeah, it is, but here it actually wraps around into the story surprisingly tight. You’re surrounded by these thick-thighed, short-haired, neon-dyed space girls that look like someone smashed together a strip club and a hacker bar, then sprinkled futa on top for good measure. They are not gentle nurses. You’re not in some healing crystal spa. You are meat they are determined to keep pumping, with hands that wander the second the monitor dips below a number they like. One moment the medic is calmly explaining your neural corruption, next moment her gloved hand slides under your hospital sheet and she squeezes like she’s testing a weapon part. The captain leans over you, short hair brushing your face, tits spilling out of a half-open suit, and she’s pissed you almost died but she’s also grinding on your thigh with this lazy, practiced dominance that says she has done this before with other poor fucks on other poor ships.

I liked how the game doesn’t even pretend to be subtle about the body stuff. Your sleeve is customizable, but not in that boring “pick eye color, done” way. It’s big asses that bounce when you get grabbed, heavy tits that strain cheap fabric, cocks and clits and both, because why not if you’re paying for a synthetic body anyway. Cyberpunk setting, sure, there are glowing cityscapes outside the porthole and some talk about data smuggling and black clinic surgeons, but honestly the real sci-fi here is “how far can we push this body before the heart flatlines.” There is this one scene that stuck with me: you’re strapped into this sloopy auto-doc chair, and a futa crew engineer, all colorful undercut and grease on her cheeks, is pretending to “check your reflexes” while she slowly strokes you with one hand and plays with the med panel with the other, watching the HR line spike when she squeezes your balls just a bit too hard. And the worst part? She keeps half-talking about thruster repairs, like she’s multitasking you like any other ship component.

Not everything lands. Some of the dialogue comes out a bit stiff in the wrong way, like someone tried to write badass one-liners while also jerking off and lost the balance. There is a moment where a character calls a neural buffer a “quantum RAM thingy” and I still don’t know if that’s on purpose or just lazy, but I kind of love it because it feels like late-night shitposting turned into a game script. The pacing jumps all over: one second you’re gasping, being ridden hard by a thick-hipped futanari officer who pins your wrists to keep your pulse up, the next second someone brings up fuel dates and cargo lists like we didn’t just watch you cum all over the med bed. Also, tiny complaint that bugged me way more than it should: the damn heart rate sound is slightly too high-pitched, like my Fitbit having an orgasm, and it made me reach for my phone twice, thinking I got a notification. Still, when the girls crowd around you, colored hair brushing your skin, their hands greedy, their voices low and bossy, using your overheating body as both patient and toy, that shrill little beep just disappears into the background like any other cheap future noise. Sex as life support. Literally. It’s messed up, and it works.

Amy shows up in this old guy’s house thinking it will be boring grown up life: run the bar, be the good wife, kiss her husband, pay the bills, repeat. The place looks normal at first, dusty bottles, ugly curtains, quiet town that pretends to sleep early. But the bar has this weird atmosphere, like everyone already knows Manuel and Amy are too innocent for that neighborhood. The game really leans into that slow slide. At the beginning you look at Amy and she still dresses like a newlywed who wants to impress her man, cute tops, shy smiles, trying to be “proper”. Then you start talking to Daniel, the almost-brother, and it gets ugly in a hot way. He is around all the time, always a bit too close, casual touching that is not really casual, hands on her waist when he “helps” in the bar, his eyes staying on her chest when she bends to get a bottle. The camera loves those small things, tiny hip moves, the curve of her ass when she squeezes between clients.

The fun part is how normal stuff turns pervy without big drama. One night you decide the bar uniform should be “more attractive” for the mostly male regulars. Simple choice, right, good for business. Next thing, Amy is there in a short skirt and tight top, pretending she does it only for tips, cheeks red because she knows the whole room is staring at her underwear each time she climbs the tiny step behind the counter. You can move her around, take orders, and there are these little animated loops when guys “accidentally” brush her tits when they pay or press too close when they talk. At first she pulls back and acts offended, later she just freezes for a second, then keeps working like nothing. That change is corruption in small doses, and it hits harder than some games where she just jumps straight to gangbang in a parking lot. There is this one scene where Amy has to clean after closing, alone with Daniel. Music from the shitty radio app on her phone, the bar is half lit, and he stands behind her, guiding her hands when she polishes the counter, fingers sliding from her wrists to her boobs, squeezing slow, like he is testing what he can get away with. She whispers that Manuel could come back any moment, but her body clearly does not want him to stop. You see the hesitation, then she relaxes and lets him grope her while she keeps wiping the table, breathing heavier. It is not subtle, but it feels like something that grew over several choices, not just random porn logic. Later on, when she ends up jerking him off in a storage room while customers sit just a thin wall away, her face is this mix of fear and lust, glancing at the door, trying not to moan when his cum hits her hand. It feels dirty in a very specific “I should not like this but I do” way.

It all plays nice on mobile too, controls are basic tap and swipe, no weird UI puzzle. I was using Chrome on Android and it ran fine, even while I had Telegram, Discord and Spotify fighting in background. The character models are 3D but not super realistic, more like sexy dolls that move just enough to sell the scene. Boobs bounce when she hurries to serve drinks, skirt rides up when she leans to show a bottle on the upper shelf, pussy gets small visual changes as she goes from obedient wife to “I let another man fuck me raw and I probably want more”. Sex scenes go straight into vaginal, not wasting much time on soft romance. The first time she spreads for someone who is not her husband, there is this sick thrill, because the game never hides that it is netorare. Manuel is around, being this clueless good guy, bringing flowers, talking about plans for the bar. While he does that, you are already planning when Amy will sneak behind his back again. The guilt is there but the game kind of laughs at it, like “you clicked the pervy option again, what did you think would happen”. Exhibition stuff pops in often too, like her “innocent” dancing in the bar turning slowly into something closer to stripping, panties briefly visible, drunk regulars cheering, some of them reaching out to touch. You can see the exact moment where she stops acting ashamed and starts enjoying the power, hips rolling on purpose, teasing them, then letting a hand stay on her thigh longer than necessary. I wish you could adjust small details like nail color or different panties for each shift, but that is probably never coming and I keep staring at the same white lace set like a clown. Still, the corruption path feels heavy and sticky, like old beer on the bar floor, and once you get into it, you kinda don’t want to wash it off.