Erik comes back to this private island after a year away and the whole place feels like it’s holding its breath. That is basically the mood of the novel. Sunburnt paradise, empty villa, two twins walking around each other like they’re scared to breathe too hard because one wrong look and they are ready to fuck on the nearest piece of furniture. The story sticks you inside their heads a lot, both him and Lyna, and it hits that awkward horny childhood memory vibe, where you remember things you shouldn’t have stared at, touches that lasted a bit too long, late showers with thin walls. There is no “click this, choose that”, you just sit there and watch the tension grow while they pretend to be normal. It feels slow for a while, almost like the author is teasing you on purpose, with stupidly wholesome things like headpats, soft hugs, holding hands on the couch under some trashy Netflix show. Then there is that first real look, the moment he realizes her ass is not “little sister” anymore, and you can basically hear his brain break in silence. I run NSFW events, I saw people do kink performances in public, and still that quiet bedroom scene with nothing but eye contact and careful breathing felt filthier than a gangbang.

When it starts to go over the line, it really does not bother to pretend it is classy. You get a lot of dirty family talk, like, they lean into the taboo instead of hiding it. She teases him while he is trying to be the responsible one, climbs onto his lap, grinds slow, makes him admit he’s been watching her sleep. There is POV stuff that feels almost too personal, like you are the one between her thighs while she still calls you “bro” and says she shouldn’t like it this much. The game flips between him and her sometimes, and that makes the corruption hit harder, because you see how she talks about being a virgin and in the next chapter she is planning how to get his tongue between her legs without him running away. There is also a lot of focus on small physical kinks: toes on his lips, her foot pressing on his cock while she pretends to watch the waves, her sitting on his face like it’s totally normal. Then their mom Helga is on her way to the villa, and the vibe shifts again. She is not just “MILF appears, dicks out”. She has her own messy thing going on, a controlling presence, a bit of soft female dom energy, and she changes how both twins act. One moment it is this romantic, almost sweet incest bubble, and the next it is him getting jerked off under the table while Helga talks about family values and pregnancy like some twisted sermon. I actually hated one thing: there is a throwaway bit with a phone notification mid-scene, totally killed my rhythm, and then the story never mentions that chat again. It lives rent free in my brain. Still, when the anal and titfuck and all the other stuff finally explode after so much build up, it feels less like porn clips glued together and more like you followed two idiots all the way from “I will just hug you” to “I am going to fill my sister on the same bed we used as kids”. It’s wrong, it’s hot, it’s surprisingly emotional, and it really does not apologize for any of it.

Royal Madness is probably the closest thing to a horny fairytale written by a very drunk court painter who really likes cats with huge tits and smug faces. You’re tossed in as Lewis, bastard ocelot prince, and the world instantly treats your royal blood like a kink rather than a title. It’s not subtle about it. Every rival, every “enemy,” every supposed threat ends up circling one question: are you fucking them into your harem, or are they turning you into their cute little pet instead. The game doesn’t pretend to be noble. It treats power as a sex toy and nobility as an excuse to collar people and re-style their bodies until they match your tastes a bit too perfectly.

What I liked is that the characters aren’t just recolors of the same cat-girl with different boobs. The art actually feels like someone sat there and thought “ok, what if a smug lioness warlord had hips like a fertility statue and armor that only makes sense if her nipples are a political statement.” Sometimes it looks messy, lines a bit shaky, anatomy going off on its own adventure, but that fits the energy. It’s not corporate clean, more like horny sketchbook that got out of control. There is this rhino general, for example, huge chest, scars across the muzzle, and when you win their challenge the magic doesn’t just slap “now they are pretty” filter. No, you literally watch the body warp piece by piece, broad muscles smoothing or sharpening, maybe the tits swelling stupidly big while they gasp halfway between outrage and getting turned on by losing. That slow change hits way harder than a simple “transformation finished” screen.

The actual structure is that loose sandbox style where you hop from one hot mess to another, switching perspective between male and female protagonist when the story feels like it, not when you are ready. One scene you’re Lewis using magic to slowly erode the pride of a tiger knight, teasing him until his cock and even his voice betray how much he wants to kneel. Next time the game flips and you’re playing as one of your own ex-rivals, now loyal, wandering your palace and accidentally starting something filthy with a new intruder who thought they’d be the one on top. That shift is the fun part. You see the same harem from different eyes, sometimes as a conqueror, sometimes as the newest toy, sometimes as the one being “improved” by your own magic. And the kinks slide around too. One route gives you a stacked lion queen that you carefully nudge from terrifying monarch into doting, overprotective mommy dom, then another throws you against a seemingly submissive bunny clerk that ends with you collared, hips reshaped, moaning her name while she tests how flexible ocelot royalty can be when properly “reformed.” Half the time I was cursing at the tiny UI buttons and weird pacing, the other half I was staring at the screen of my phone on the tram, trying not to bite my lip like a complete idiot.

If you really want to squeeze every filthy drop out of it, don’t rush straight to the obvious sex scenes. Poke around the challenges, lose on purpose sometimes, see how the transformations twist when you’re the loser instead of the victor. Talk to characters again after you’ve changed them, especially the big tits crowd and the ones who pretended they didn’t care about you. Watch how their new bodies and new roles corrupt their own original goals. Treat each battle less like a level and more like a negotiation with the world’s nastiest fashion designer. That’s where the game actually gets hot.

Neuro/Splice feels like someone grabbed a cyberpunk thriller, a fucked‑up body swap fetish, and a humiliation dungeon, blendered it together, and then forgot to clean the mess off the walls. In a good way. You’ve got this cop Ryke, corporate dog for NexaCorp, who ends up jammed into Cassie’s body, tossed straight into a mixed‑gender max security prison that looks like a cross between a riot and a sex club that never closes. He’s a guy in his head, stuck in this soft, dangerous female body, surrounded by assholes who think she’s just fresh meat. Guards grope when they feel like it, inmates test boundaries with “accidental” touches that are not even slightly accidental, and every little mistake you make, the game slaps you back with some brutal teasing or public humiliation. There’s this early scene where you misjudge who to talk to in the yard and instead of a simple “game over”, you end up pressed against a fence, hand forced between Cassie’s legs in front of half the block while some guard laughs and pretends it’s a “routine check”. That whole vibe of “you wanted to be the hero, now suck it up” never really stops. It keeps poking at the fantasy of control, then yanking it away. If you’re expecting soft cuddly romance, you loaded the wrong tab in your browser.

The wild part is that while Ryke is getting his ass metaphorically and literally beaten in Cassie’s skin, Cassie wakes up in his male body on the other side of the fence with all the power he used to enjoy. Suddenly the hunted rebel girl is the scary dude in uniform, walking down halls where people flinch when she passes. She can abuse that. Hard. Use her new status to harass coworkers, push underlings around, “search” suspects with hands that stay way too long in the wrong places. There’s this interrogation room scene where you can lean into full male domination, pushing a nervous female tech against the table, fingers slipping exactly where HR would have a heart attack, all under the excuse of “investigation procedure”. Or you can pretend to be decent while constantly edging the line, which is almost worse. The game loves turning basic choices into fetish traps. Say the polite thing, you still get dragged into some forced stripping in the showers later. Try to act tough, you get chained up, spanked, and mocked like a bratty girl who forgot her place. It toys with netorare stuff in a really sneaky way too. People talk about “Cassie” like she’s a thing that can be used, and you know it’s Ryke in there screaming, but the body reacts, the nipples harden, the thighs tremble, and the game does not let you pretend that isn’t hot. Meanwhile, outside the prison, Cassie in Ryke’s body gets chances to steal other people’s lovers, ruin relationships, and then walk away like it was nothing. It hits that nasty “I stole your girl and she liked it better” kink and then just moves on like it never happened. Honestly, I wish they toned nothing down. The more it kicks at comfort zones, the more it actually feels alive.

There is this quiet, slightly tired feeling in the whole thing that hit me harder than all the porn grindfests I usually dig through on itch and F95. You start with this middle-aged bar owner who clearly had his “fun young time” years ago, then just pressed stop on life. The guy lives between empty glasses, Spotify playlists stuck on old rock, and that awkward silence after the last drunk leaves. And into that walks Elena, still carrying that fresh hurt you only get when you believed some dude’s promises a bit too hard. It’s one of those nights where two people should probably just go home, jerk off to Pornhub, sleep, and forget everything. They don’t, obviously. The whole kinetic setup is basically saying: you’re not choosing where the story goes, you’re just stuck in the backseat watching these two try to use sex as a bandage over old shit that never healed right.

The route that plays “normal” romance feels like a long, slow exhale. He is careful with her, not in a corny way, more like someone who fucked up enough in life to finally learn where to touch and when to shut up. There are a lot of small moments: her hand shaking a little when she takes that first sip of whiskey, his fingers brushing her thigh while he pretends to talk about music, that dumb smile when she realizes she actually wants his mouth on her. When it finally turns explicit, it is not some turbo-hentai nonsense. She drops to her knees and you can almost hear her thinking “fuck it” before she pulls his cock out. The blowjob scenes are long and almost too real; spit on her chin, her mascara slightly smeared, his hips twitching when she decides to take him a bit deeper than she can handle. Then the bed, finally, with that slow, lazy missionary where they look at each other way too much for just a one night thing. Vaginal creampie, yeah, but framed more like a mistake they both secretly want, not just a “achievement unlocked” moment. And at the same time I kind of hated how sometimes the dialogue leans a bit Tumblr-poetry, like two people trying to sound deep on WhatsApp at 1 in the morning. There is also this corruption flavored second path where the mood shifts and he stops being only gentle. The bar feels colder, less safe. His hands close around her wrists, push them above her head, and you can tell he is testing how far she will go to forget the guy who broke her. Light bondage, a bit of rough throat-fucking, his voice in her ear telling her when to open her mouth, when to beg, when to ride him until her legs are shaking. It is still pretty tame compared to some brutal stuff out there, but it has that nice edge where romance and male control mix in a way that makes your brain and your dick argue. By the end I only really remembered two things: her face when she realizes he actually sees her, not just her body, and the moment his cum spills inside her and neither of them does the “oh no, what about protection” talk. Also, the save menu font annoys me for no reason. Anyway, it lingers. Not like a big dramatic saga or some hardcore fetish circus, more like that one chat on Telegram with someone you fucked once and never muted.