This thing starts like one of those harmless school slice-of-life stories, except it never feels harmless. You’re this dude walking the halls, joking with classmates, peeking at asses in too-tight skirts, pretending everything’s normal while the game keeps whispering that nothing is. On the surface you’re just chasing romance routes and big tits, trying to figure out which milf teacher you wanna risk your future for, which childhood friend you’ll accidentally corrupt, which guy you’ll piss off enough that he starts eyeing your girl. Then it hits you that every flirt, every little “harmless” grope in the hallway, every blowjob in the music room is getting tracked, twisted, fed back into this mess of morality and mind games. One minute you’re laughing at some dumb humor scene where your buddy makes a joke about your porn folder, next minute you’re watching a scene of brutal violence and you’re not sure if you caused it or just failed to stop it.

What really got me is how your choices feel fine in the moment. You see a big ass bending over a desk and you click the option to touch. Simple. She blushes, maybe moans, maybe slaps you, sometimes both. Then three scenes later she’s crying about how nobody respects her, and the game doesn’t tell you “this is your fault,” but you know anyway. Same with the whole NTR / netorase thing. At first it’s kind of hot, letting another guy or futa girl “help out” your partner, just sharing for fun because you think you’re in control. The group scenes are wild, by the way, especially when the camera lingers just a bit too long and you catch your own character watching instead of acting. Voyeur mode inside the story itself. But little by little, jealousy starts to bleed into it. There’s this one route where you push your girl toward another guy as a joke, like “go flirt with him, I don’t mind,” and way later you catch them in a quiet corner, his hand already under her skirt, her breathing way too heavy to pretend. You can interrupt, dominate, turn it into a threesome, whatever, but that sick “maybe I went too far” feeling doesn’t really go away.

Sex scenes are not shy at all. Virgin loss with awkward eye contact, messy creampies where you’re not totally sure if it was consensual or just pressured, titfucks on the school rooftop while the city burns somewhere in the distance, rough oral that slips into domination, then flips and she chokes you right back with that sudden female domination switch. There’s drugs, too, and that’s where things get weird in a different way. Some of the best animated scenes come from those mind control bits, where you honestly can’t tell if the girl wants it or your character is just rewriting her brain to want it. The game doesn’t clean it up for you. No “safe word,” no soft fade out. You’re the one clicking “continue” while she begs you to stop and also not to stop. But then you have these strange quiet romance scenes with actual warmth, like holding hands in a classroom while talking about family you really, really shouldn’t be this close to, or lying naked beside someone after fucking them raw and talking about sanity and what’s real. Sometimes it even feels wholesome before it throws another cheating scene at you completely out of nowhere. I kind of hate that. And I kind of went back to see every single ending anyway.

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.

Emily Does It All feels a bit like scrolling the “close friends” stories of some messy college girl on Instagram, except every time you tap there is a choice hanging over her next bad idea. It pretends to be innocent at first, all campus vibes, roommates, group chats, that boring professor who talks too much, and then suddenly you are watching her grind in some quiet corner of the library, pretending to study while Nick’s hand is already up her skirt. And the thing is, you told her to wear that stupid short skirt in the first place, when she was teasing in the mirror and asking “too much?” You know perfectly well it was too little, but that is the fun. Or the problem. Hard to say.

She is not some shy virgin archetype. Emily already fucks, she already enjoys it, and the game doesn’t waste time pretending otherwise. One scene that really stuck in my head is this lazy afternoon on her bed where she and Nick end up in a clumsy sixty-nine. Legs tangled in sheets, phone buzzing beside them with a message from Claire, totally ignored while Emily is moaning with his cock in her mouth and dripping on his face at the same time. It looks hot, but also a bit awkward, like real sex. She lifts her head, wipes her chin, laughs, then asks if she should send Claire a selfie “by accident” while she still has that fucked-out blush. You can go “nah, keep it private” or tell her to lean into her little exhibitionist brain and flash just enough skin that Claire has questions later. And she will. Claire always has questions. The funny part is, sometimes Emily acts like she is all carefree and slutty, but the next day she is sitting in some stupid campus cafe, overthinking a kiss on the cheek from Luke, the neighbor boy with the soft heart and the hard-on every time she bends over to pick something up. You push her to flirt more, she pretends she doesn’t notice his eyes on her tits when she “accidentally” forgets a bra under a thin top. Sure, Emily. Totally accidental.

The sex is not just stuck in bedrooms. There is this corridor after class where some drunk party dare from earlier comes back to bite her. She promised to walk through the building with no panties under a short dress if she lost a silly card game, and you actually let her lose. Later you watch her cheeks burn while a gust of air lifts the hem and some random dude behind gets a full view. You can tell her to pull the dress down and behave, or just let her feel that wetness between her legs grow while she keeps walking, pretending nothing happened. The camera kind of lingers on her thighs, and there is this little detail of her biting her lip, like she hates that she is turned on by being exposed in public. I like that mix, the guilt with the thrill. Though the way the game keeps popping little textbox choices during a hot blowjob breaks the flow sometimes; I was on my phone in Chrome, one hand very busy, and suddenly had to decide if she swallows or lets it drip all over her boobs while he squeezes them. Of course I picked the mess, but the timing made me swear out loud. Also, the sound of the text click is weirdly loud compared to the moans and I will complain about that forever and never adjust the volume, out of pure stubbornness. Anyway, if you want to milk every spicy moment here, best way is to stop thinking like “good route” or “bad route” and just ask yourself at each choice: is Emily the girl who closes her legs, or the one who spreads them a little more and then worries about it later? Because once you start answering that honestly, the story goes to some very fun, very filthy places on its own.

Storm, wet wood, that weird mix of salt and fear in your throat, and right in the middle of that you’ve got her: this perfect elven wife who still somehow looks holy even with her robes clinging to her curves. The game throws you onto this nameless island like the ocean just spat you out, and suddenly your “happily ever after” feels like a joke with bad timing. It’s not a complicated setup, actually kind of simple, which makes it worse. You, the loyal husband, still trying to act like a hero. Her, the devout priestess who actually believes all that purity talk. And then that guy, Borwin, this sweaty, wheezing sailor with piggy eyes who starts looking at her like she’s the last piece of meat in the world. The whole thing is a slow punch in the gut, because nothing explodes, nobody just jumps into fucking right away. It just stretches. Long glances. His “accidental” touches. Her nervous smile that hangs a little too long. And you get stuck watching, almost tasting that ugly mix of jealousy and arousal in your own mouth, like cheap rum you didn’t mean to drink.

What hit me hardest is how the game doesn’t rush the dirty stuff. First it plays with your brain. They’re sitting close to the fire, he laughs too loud, his hand lands on her thigh, and she doesn’t slap it away. Not right away. You feel that little sting in your chest, like, “hey, that’s my wife,” but you also stare at the screen longer than you should. When he ogles her tits through soaked fabric, it’s not subtle, and she notices, but instead of screaming she blushes and fidgets and pretends she didn’t see. It’s messed up, watching her slowly slide from “holy and untouchable” to “kind of flattered that this filthy bastard wants her so bad.” The corruption is mostly in her expressions, tiny shifts. Mouth a bit more parted when he leans close. Eyes not quite meeting yours. Then the touches change. His hand on her ass when he helps her “climb over a rock.” His fingers brushing along the inside of her thigh while he plays it off like he’s checking a wound. There’s a scene where she’s kneeling in front of him, supposedly “tending an injury,” and the camera knows exactly what your brain is doing. Her face is too close to his crotch, her lips too wet, and for a second the game just lets you sit there wondering if she’s going to use her mouth on him or if you’re just filthy for even thinking it.

At some point the line breaks and you don’t even remember exactly where. One night the priestess who swore her body belongs to the gods is on her back, robe pushed up, legs spread, and the guy filling her is not you. She moans in a way you’ve never heard from her scenes with you, louder, less controlled, like her body finally stopped pretending. Her tits bounce when he pounds into her, her ass lifts up to meet him, and you feel this horrible heat in your gut because the animation really leans into how much she’s getting into it. She grabs his arm, begs him not to stop, and the worst part is how her words sound half like prayer, half like porn. There’s this nasty little bit where he gropes her under the pretense of “warming her up” after a cold night, his thick fingers pushing under her clothes, and she’s shivering but not from the cold anymore. She bites her lip, tries to mumble something about “marriage vows,” but she’s grinding against his hand while she says it. Oral, handjob, full-on fucking, it all comes, just not in the order your pride would like. The game never lets you escape that tight, ugly feeling of watching your “treasure” get taken, then watching her start to want it more than anything you ever gave her. And you know what makes it even dirtier? There’s no choice to fix it, no magic button to “save” her. You’re just there, stuck in your own skin, watching this elf with a big perfect ass and soft bouncing tits get slowly rewritten by a disgusting sailor, and somewhere in the middle of her crying and moaning you realize you’re stroking yourself and hating yourself at the same time.