Matthew is the kind of guy who should have a boring life. Office job, pretty fiancée, wedding planner app open on one monitor and Jira on the other. On paper he is normal. Inside his head he is a fucking swamp creature. The whole game lives in that swamp. Most of what you see is messenger threads, photo drops, late-night voice notes that might as well be curses from some old god of horny regret. One moment he is sending Ashley a cheesy selfie from the office bathroom, next moment an ex slides into his DMs with a half-naked pic that hits like a ritual knife. The screen fills with that familiar Telegram / WhatsApp style clutter, but every new message feels like you are cutting tiny veins in his future. It all looks casual at first, almost harmless. Just chats, a few AI-touched photos, some emojis, harmless teasing. Then the masturbation scenes creep in quietly, like mold. You are alone in his room, staring at photos you probably should delete. The text slows down. His thoughts start repeating, circling around the same ass, the same memory of a hotel room, the way Ashley’s friend looked at him at that party. There is nothing subtle about how the game treats lust. It wants you to wallow in it. It wants you to feel a bit disgusting while you scroll, like when you stalk your ex on Instagram and your thumb hovers over the like button on some old bikini shot. Except here you can push further and see what breaks first, his guilt or his dick.

The corruption path felt the most like some twisted romance ritual to me. You start with one "harmless" flirt line to a girl you absolutely should not text. Then you accept a suggestive photo. Then you send one back. The chat log turns into a slow summoning of a worse version of Matthew, message after message. At some point you are juggling windows: Ashley sending you sweet wedding ideas while another woman is asking what color your cum was last night. The voyeurism angle hits harder than I expected, because the game makes you read everything. You see other people’s typing bubbles, their typos, the way their tone changes when they get horny or jealous. Watching Ashley slowly doubt herself while you keep a secret chat alive in another tab feels like staring at a fish tank and removing the oxygen little by little. The game pretends to offer a pure "way of love", and maybe it is there, but I kept fucking it up. Even when I tried to stay loyal, I clicked one teasing option and suddenly I was neck-deep again, jerking off to a memory instead of talking to the woman I’m supposed to marry. It’s funny because the romance is actually kind of sweet in places, like those quiet text chains about nothing that somehow feel intimate. Then a single choice flips it and you are in NTR territory before you can blink, watching someone else touch what should be yours while your messages turn into little prayers nobody hears. I got mad at Ashley once for something that was clearly my fault, which is exactly the kind of petty human evil I like in these stories. It reminded me of reading Lovecraft on my phone in the bathroom, that same cold feeling that you are too small in front of your own urges. The only thing that really annoyed me was the damn notification sound effect they use in one chat. It hits slightly off-beat, like out of sync with the text, and I kept waiting for the dev to fix it in an update that never came.

Dan is that guy who thought getting into automation engineering would make life all clean and logical, then ends up resetting routers for boomers on tech support while his dick basically runs his decision making. Game starts pretty calm, him just being this slightly awkward dude at a soul killing job, and then boom, Christina walks back into his life. Old high school friend. The kind of “friend” you used to think about in the shower and then tell yourself it was just hormones. Now she’s grown into this walking temptation with huge tits, soft voice, and that mix of sweet and lowkey horny teasing that makes your brain lag like a shitty Discord call. The game really leans into that familiar energy, that weird nostalgia where you remember her as the girl eating fries in the cafeteria, but now she’s pressing those big boobs against your arm and asking if you “missed hanging out” with that innocent smile that is absolutely not innocent.

It plays like one of those slow burn visual novels where half the tension is in what you don’t say. You’re clicking through their chats, coffee meetups, small talk that clearly wants to be dirty talk, and the fun is in trying to read her mood from each CG, each little facial shift. One moment she’s joking about your boring office job, next moment she’s leaning too close, t-shirt pulling just enough to show cleavage that should be illegal, and you get that CG freeze of her looking up like “what, do my tits distract you?” And yes, they do, thanks for asking. There are scenes where she pretends to be all innocent, like “oh, I didn’t know this top was so tight,” while she very obviously knows exactly what she’s doing. That teasing is almost more intense than the actual hentai scenes. Almost. When you finally get those, they’re the kind of CGs where you stop clicking and just stare. Sweat, flushed skin, her legs spread on your couch after “just watching a movie,” and you can almost hear the cheap Netflix show still playing in the background while she rides you slowly, hair messy, cheeks red, tits bouncing while she tries to “keep it quiet.” Yeah, that whole “friends” thing does not survive very long.

What stuck with me is how the game sells that romance angle without pretending it’s some pure love story. It’s horny as hell, but it’s not just random fuck scenes thrown at you like a porn hub playlist. You get that build up: old memories, little jealous moments when she mentions other guys, the way she casually touches your shoulder then pulls back like she’s testing you. One CG where she hugs you from behind after a rough day and her boobs are basically wrapped around you like a warm anime pillow, and you can tell she knows what that does to you. They talk about stupid stuff too, like high school rumors and who dated who, and in between those lines you feel the “what if we had hooked up back then” tension. At some point she straight up asks if you ever had a crush on her, and depending on what you pick, the vibe of the next scene totally shifts. There’s this moment where she shows up in your place “just for a drink” in tight jeans and a top that can barely contain her chest, sits way too close, then starts playing with her hair, crossing and uncrossing her legs, throwing you looks like she wants you to fuck up and make the first move. When you finally push past all that and she lets you strip her, she still keeps that teasing energy, like biting her lip and pretending she’s shy while her body tells a completely different story. It’s messy, it’s horny, it feels like that dangerous zone between old friend and full-on girlfriend, where every choice might fuck things up or make her moan your name louder. And honestly, that’s exactly the fun part.

A long time ago this guy was a god, like real god, not some cosplay dude with foam sword. People prayed to him, gave him girls, gave him power, all that wild ancient stuff. Then everything went to shit, he got sealed like some scary monster story and the world moved on, forgot him. Fast forward to modern world and suddenly there is this one last believer, a shy little thing who finds an old ritual, thinks it is just weird superstition, and still tries it in her tiny bedroom with her phone flashlight and some cheap candles from Amazon. And boom, he wakes up. Not in a temple, not in some glorious battlefield, but right there between her messy bed and her laptop with porn tabs still open. It feels kind of funny and kind of hot at same time, this mix of epic god energy and super normal modern girl who never even had a real boyfriend and has no idea what to do when an actual ancient sex god is just standing in front of her, already hard, already curious.

From here the story just keeps getting more dirty, but the tone stays weirdly romantic under all the filth, like he actually looks at her first, studies her face, the way her hands shake when she touches his chest, not only how her tits bounce when he pulls off her shirt. She starts as a virgin, nervous, breathing fast, but there is this almost religious hunger growing in her, like her body already remembers him from other lives. When he finally pushes inside her the game does not rush, it stays on that first stretch, the little pain mixed with deep pleasure, her nails scratching his back, his hand around her throat but gentle, almost like he is checking she is still present. Later he gets more rough, there is anal, there is double use where his cock and a thick toy take her at same time and she is drooling on the sheets, but it never feels like some cheap porn clip, more like a very long night that keeps going and going, changing rhythm. One scene that stayed in my head is when he makes her ride a toy while he just watches, arms crossed, commenting quietly how her pussy opens up, telling her to look at herself in the mirror. It is kind of humiliating for her, but she clearly loves it, and I felt like a creep because I loved it too. I wish they used that mirror more honestly, there is something about seeing her own face while he’s fucking her from behind that would make it perfect, but they do not really go back to it.

Later more girls appear, of course, because one worshiper is never enough for a god that is horny and bored after thousands of years. There is a smug office lady who pretends she does not believe in gods, then ends up on her knees giving messy head with mascara all over, and a quiet nerdy girl who watches from the doorway first, thinking they do something wrong, and then slowly gets pulled into the group, tongue hesitating when she first licks another girl, then going deeper like she is tasting something forbidden. The group scenes go pretty far, multiple holes all used, toys everywhere, one girl sitting on his face while another rides him, the first believer holding a camera because he tells her to record everything, like building his own private holy scripture of sweaty skin and dripping cum. There is also this short bit with tentacles that feels like a glitch in the universe, he calls some leftover ancient power and suddenly there are wet, shiny limbs curling around ankles and wrists, spreading thighs open so wide it looks impossible, sliding in places fingers cannot reach. It is only one chapter but it burned into my brain. The game itself is simple, just reading and clicking, no choices, but I opened it again on my phone in bed, on desktop with one hand on mouse and one somewhere else, because the pacing of scenes is strangely addicting. You watch this god slowly change from distant, almost cold, into a possessive bastard who cannot get enough, and these “normal” girls from modern world turn into his little cult of sluts, sharing spit, sharing cock, whispering his name like prayer while their asses are already full. I still think one scene needed more lube, like you can almost feel the burn, but somehow that made me like it more.

This one hits like a fucked up Valentine’s card somebody dipped in blood and spit on. Oridelle is not a “heroine,” she is a girl who died, got dragged back, and now thinks the only reason she exists is to suck off the guy who saved her. That’s the whole emotional center of the game: her on her knees, him on the throne, and you sitting there clicking through that sick loop of “thank you for saving me, please use me again.” It feels almost too intimate sometimes, like reading someone’s horny therapy diary that got infected by a horror manga. The tone flips a lot. One minute she is this soft, almost cute corpse-girl whispering how grateful she is, and three lines later she is giggling like a brain-poisoned bimbo about how her mouth is “perfect for him” and nothing else matters. It is erotic, yeah, but there is this rotten taste under it, like you bit into candy and it was raw meat.

The horror wraps itself around the sex instead of fighting it. Every time she drags herself back to that coffin, body resetting, clothes fixing, face going back to the “normal” Oridelle, it feels like watching a save file overwrite a human being. She goes out, gets broken a little more, comes back, looks the same. Inside she is not the same. You can feel the split getting wider, her real self trapped under this shiny, porn-brain alter ego that thinks being his perfect cocksleeve is holy work. Some scenes are almost boring in how focused they are on his dick and her mouth, and then suddenly one line pops where she begs him to call her by a name he gave her, not her own, and it hits harder than the actual blowjob. The game keeps telling you, quietly, that she is already dead, just not all at once. And still you keep clicking, because the pacing is like a slow, dripping faucet you kind of hate but keep staring at. Sometimes the writing leans too hard into “bimbo talk” and loses that fragile, tragic vibe I liked at the start, but then there is a moment where she hesitates before opening her lips and it all comes back. I wish there was a way to pull her out, to give her a route where she looks at him and says “no,” but the whole point is that she will not. She crawls back, every time, happy to be used, proud of how empty she can become for him, and that is what makes the whole thing stay in your head after you close the tab and pretend you are just going to check Twitter.