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.

Frieren looks way too calm for someone getting dragged into that kind of hole. Like, she keeps this saintly face while the whole dungeon’s alive with squishy noises and glowing runes that probably weren’t OSHA-approved. The game doesn’t even pretend to be serious - one second you’re clicking through some dusty corridor, the next she’s half-stuck in a wall, robes sliding down, and I swear the tentacles have better comedic timing than half the anime parodies I’ve seen. There’s this dumb little sound effect when you misclick that feels like the dev trolling you personally. And yeah, I laughed, then immediately felt weird for laughing, then laughed again. That’s the loop here: arousal, confusion, laughter, repeat.

Mechanically, it’s point-and-click, but not the “find the key” kind - more like “poke the wrong spot and something indecent happens.” The animation’s surprisingly alive; her eyes twitch in that awkward, human way that makes it both hotter and funnier. You can tell the artist’s obsessed with micro-expressions - tiny smirks, that split-second of resistance before she just gives up trying to look dignified. The glory hole bit? It’s handled with this absurd level of ritual, like the dev wanted to parody sacred fantasy tropes but ended up making the most unholy confession booth imaginable. Sometimes the camera lingers too long, like it’s waiting for you to blink first. I didn’t.

What kills me is how unserious it all feels. There’s no fake epic music, no “chosen one” nonsense - just this quiet, looping moan track that somehow fits the dungeon’s echo. I kept expecting a boss fight, but the only thing that fought back was my mouse hand. It’s lewd, sure, but it’s also self-aware in a stupidly charming way. You can almost hear the dev whisper, “yeah, I know what you came for,” while Frieren’s face says, “I can’t believe I’m in this mess again.” And honestly? Same.

College looks normal on the surface: crappy dorm beds, group chats blowing up over nothing, professors who talk like podcasts on 0.75x speed. Under all that, this game quietly hands you a body that does not stay put. You start as this regular 18-year-old guy, horny and stressed and barely holding it together, and then your skin starts crawling in ways that aren’t just “I need to jerk off before lecture.” Limbs stretch when you panic, muscles twist into inhuman shapes, and your reflection occasionally smiles before you do. The story doesn’t treat it like some heroic anime glow-up either. It feels dirty, like your own body is hitting on you and you can’t tell it to stop. That’s the fun of it, though: you’re constantly one bad choice away from accidentally showing everyone that the cute freshman with the big cock can also casually grow tentacles out of his back.

What really hooks you is how the erotic stuff grows out of that corruption instead of being tacked on. One scene you’re trying to stay calm in a packed lecture hall while your power reacts to a random boner, and the next scene you’re in a bathroom stall, literally reshaping yourself just enough to jerk off without leaving obvious traces, only to lose control and end up painting the walls with thick, barely-human cum. And when the game starts playing with gender shift, it doesn’t pretend it’s some wholesome identity journey. You slide into a soft, curvy version of yourself with big tits and a fat ass because it feels good and because you realize how easy it is to make people stare. There’s a kind of wrong thrill in turning into a stacked girl to get closer to some dude who’d never look at you as a guy, then tempting him into a messy titjob or sloppy blowjob while your mind is still very much male, buried somewhere under the bouncing flesh and ruined mascara. The writing leans into that twisted mix of arousal and shame: you’re hard even when you don’t have a dick, dripping in all the wrong places, surrounded by people who think you’re just another thirsty coed while something inside you writhes like a monster in heat.

Then there are the actual monsters, the things that gave you this power in the first place. They don’t just show up for fights; they slither into the sex. Tentacles that push under your clothes when you’re trying to act normal on a date, thick coils sliding between your transformed thighs while you’re grinding on some unsuspecting classmate, that awful, amazing moment where you realize you can open yourself in ways no human body should and take every inch of it. Scenes stack up where you’re pinned to a dark alley wall, or bent over some forgotten rooftop edge, body shifting to accommodate impossible girth, every hole filled and overflowing until you’re basically covered in cum, breathing hard and half laughing because part of you likes being used like that. Sometimes you turn it around and use your powers to be the monster instead, growing extra hands for a rough handjob, reshaping your mouth for deeper oral, pushing into a wet, stretched pussy while your skin ripples and your partner doesn’t even notice at first. The horror part never totally leaves; even when you’re riding a dick or taking a monster cock, there’s this background hum that you’re one wrong pulse away from snapping into something no longer human. And yet you keep pushing, keep masturbating with a body that can grow new angles to touch, chasing stronger orgasms while you try to pretend you’re just a normal freshman and not a walking sex-horror glitch waiting to explode all over the world.

Raven wakes up in Lustein with the kind of hangover you get from reality itself, not from alcohol. She knows three things: her name, that she’s a witch, and that everyone around her is way too horny for a Tuesday that doesn’t even exist. The town looks like some fantasy RPG town you half remember from an old JRPG, but somebody replaced half the NPC dialogues with porn hub comments and cult propaganda. On one corner there’s a prim girl in a hood preaching purity, on the next there’s a slime girl casually jerking off a tentacle beast in an alley, and both scenes feel normal after about ten minutes. The game doesn’t even apologize for it. You walk Raven around, poke your nose into “investigations,” and every lead about the mysterious Order somehow slides into another sex scene, another shady deal, another monster with way too much cock for its own skeleton.

What I liked is that Raven isn’t written like some clueless virgin protagonist who “accidentally” falls on dick every five steps. At first she’s confused, guarded, trying to treat every encounter like a real case file. You’re choosing dialogue options, digging for clues, following rumors about disappearances and strange symbols, but half the clue-givers are masturbating behind curtains or peeping through keyholes when you arrive. The voyeur stuff sneaks up on you: you accept a “stakeout quest,” thinking you’ll watch a corrupt priest meet his contact, and suddenly you’re crouched behind a crate, watching him get absolutely flooded by his own acolytes in a holy-bukkake ritual that looks like a blasphemous version of a Klimt painting. You can stay hidden, stroke yourself with Raven’s gloved hand while the scene unfolds, or reveal yourself and twist the ritual to your own kind of magic. The game pretends it is about an investigation, but it is actually about how far you push her corruption, how much you let Lustein leak into her soul and underwear. There’s turn based combat, sure, but it’s the kind of combat that laughs at normal balance. You’re casting spells that bind tentacles, seduce bosses, or literally masturbate mid-battle to charge a corruption bar that works like mana and moral decay at the same time. An early battle with a raven-headed knight is still stuck in my head: the fight starts like normal, you exploit his weak point, suddenly his armor snaps away and what’s under it could never fit in that plate mail. You can finish him “properly” with fire and hexes, or stun him using a seduction stance that turns the screen into a slow striptease, then ride him until he swears fealty with a mouth full of your magic. There is this absurd tension between “I am saving this world” and “I am absolutely getting railed by it.”

The outfits are not just costumes; they feel like alternate timelines for Raven. You change from a modest witch dress into a shredded leather top and thigh-high boots, and the game quietly adjusts how people react. That prim Order nun earlier suddenly stops seeing you as possible recruit and starts looking at you like potential prey, cornering you later in a side chapel and suggesting “purification” that involves ropes, candles, and her tongue taking a pilgrimage between your legs. Another time I put Raven into a delicate, almost scholarly robe, and went to a monster-infested forest. Bad idea. The tentacle plants there literally respond differently, coiling around her as if they’ve found a rare flower and need to pollinate it from every angle. You’re given choices, but a lot of them feel like you’re only choosing how filthy things get, not if. One quest has you investigating rumors about a masked witch corrupting villagers. Plot twist: that witch is basically you from the future if you dive too far into the hentai logic of Lustein. Fighting her in turn-based battle is weirdly arousing and tragic: magic circles, mirrored incantations, her taunting you with what you will become, then pinning you down with living chains while she pours her “knowledge” into your mouth. The best part is I hated some tiny UI things, like how the log sometimes hides a line you want to reread during a particularly heavy lesbian ritual, and I will complain about this in my head forever, but at the same time, when Raven kneels in a ruined library, covered in monster cum, reading sigils from a soaked grimoire while fingering herself to unlock a new spell, I forget everything else. It feels like those old fantasy paperbacks where the margins are full of notes from some horny reader before you, except now you’re the one writing them on Raven’s skin.