You wake up, horny, confused and a little annoyed, and the game just shrugs and drops a catgirl in your lap like that’s a normal Tuesday. She’s not the cutesy “nya~ master” type either, at least not at first. There is this weird mix of needy kitten and bratty roommate who looks through your browser history and then pretends she didn’t. One moment she’s pressing those ridiculous tits against your arm while her tail flicks, next moment she’s acting offended you looked. Classic. The robot friend beside her is even stranger. Not some cold metal toy, more like a pervy Alexa with a body and no shame, scanning everyone, throwing humiliating comments about body temperature, arousal levels, “fertility status” in your face. It feels like a therapist that skipped ethics class and went straight to “how can I make you blush harder” mode.

Where it gets fun, or fucked up, or both, is how the game handles control. You’ve got the usual dating sim stuff, choices, gifts, events, blah, but then it slides quietly into serious kink territory. Orgasm denial isn’t just a line in the menu, it becomes part of the daily routine. A handjob that stops right when she starts to squirt. A blowjob where the robot keeps count of thrusts and locks the toy on your cock if you cum too fast. You get a catgirl on her knees, drooling on your shaft, and at the same time a cold voice in your ear rating your self control like it’s grading homework. It should be stupid. It kind of is. I liked it anyway. Then there is the childhood friend, the wrestler girl with short hair and tan lines that tell you exactly what kind of bikini she wears and how long she stayed in the sun. She suplexes you on the mattress, sits on your face, calls it “training”, and the game treats her virginity like a big boss fight. When you finally break her hymen you feel half proud, half guilty, and the stupid part is that the game never actually asks you to feel anything at all. It just lets the blood, the creampie, the shaking legs speak.

Fantasy and sci fi keep mixing like someone spilled two different games together and never cleaned the floor. One route has you dealing with elves and a monster girl that squirts milk when you grope her too hard, another throws in cybernetic restraints and a “safety protocol” that clearly is not safe. Pregnancy stuff is everywhere, but not shoved in your face, more like a quiet threat. You watch bellies swell after one too many creampies, lactation dripping through cosplay outfits, the robot calmly explaining hormone changes while you’re busy pounding an ahegao-faced catgirl in anal. There is this voyeurism system where you can spy on girls masturbating, or on two of them going full lesbian, one more dominant, slapping ass and making the other lick her own juices off a toy. Then the same girl later kneels for you, calls you master, and it actually feels a bit too easy. That annoyed me, not enough struggle, not enough real humiliation, but I kept playing anyway. The sandbox part sometimes feels like a mess, wandering around just to trigger a titfuck scene in the shower or a quick spanking in the locker room, and I kind of hate that I had to open Notes on my phone to remember where the best scenes were. But then the game throws a horror-style event at you, lights flicker, some superpower shit activates, your slave girl starts floating and moaning like possessed, and you still end up with her pinned under you, begging for more vaginal and anal at the same time like that’s totally normal reaction to paranormal activity. It’s trashy, it’s inconsistent, it pretends to care about consent while letting you push way too far in group sex scenes, and I still found myself tabbing away from Telegram so I could focus when the robot whispered “orgasm denied” and the catgirl looked like she might cry if I didn’t let her cum. I wanted more actual fear in the horror, more sting in the BDSM, less harem softness, but I know I’d complain even if it had all that.

A husband, a stupid fight, and that sick feeling in your gut when you suddenly notice how short your own shadow looks next to another guy’s. That is basically where this story sits, grinning at you. You follow this poor bastard of a husband who starts the evening thinking he is “the man of the house” and ends up wondering if his wife is getting her pussy filled by somebody taller, thicker, and a lot more confident. The game plays like a teasing lecture about NTR, but not in a cold way. It is like a drunk friend whispering in your ear, “You see that guy talking to your wife? Yeah, that is how it starts.” The visuals sell that uneasy vibe: soft, slow camera-like cuts, those slightly too-long pauses on her lips when she smiles at someone else, her shirt clinging in all the right places, and his eyes squinting like he is trying not to imagine her on her knees, drool on another man’s shaft. The pace is not rushed, it pokes you. You get moments where almost nothing “big” happens, just small looks, off-hand comments, her phone lighting up with a message while she is in the shower and you are left staring at the screen, imagining every filthy word she might be reading.

There is a strong “PSA from hell” vibe, yeah, like some horny officer in a police comedy explaining step by step how your wife goes from “I would never cheat” to getting her ass slapped by a stranger in some cheap hotel on vacation. The husband is technically the male protagonist, but it never really feels like you are in control. You are more like a ghost stuck in his skull, dragged through his jealousy, his twisted fantasies, his humiliation. One scene that hit hard: he is sitting on the bed, replaying his argument with his wife, and his brain starts playing its own porn parody. Suddenly she is there in his mind, bent over the kitchen counter, big tits pressed on the cold surface, some smug bastard gripping her hips while she moans his name instead. The sounds get louder than his own thoughts. Little sticky lip noises, wet slaps, her breathy “harder” that he is not sure she ever said to him in real life. The game leans into that: you never know where reality stops and his corrupted imagination starts. Sometimes you see Sara in normal everyday clothes, then next transition she is in a tight uniform, unbuttoned just enough, or a cheap lingerie set that looks like it was bought for someone else’s eyes. You get flashes of oral, her cheeks hollowed around a thick cock, but it cuts away too soon, almost mocking you. And in the middle of all this, the tone suddenly slides into this weird humor, like a wink to those who know Konosuba jokes and tentacle memes, like the narrator is some half-drunk wiz giving you “NTR survival tips” while the real lesson is just: if you feel it happening, it probably started a long time ago, back when you ignored how she smiled at her “friend” a little too much. The game never holds your hand. It kind of laughs while you squirm.

Mythos feels like somebody smashed together a late night crime podcast, a horny anime parody and that weird urban legend subreddit you scroll on your phone when you should be sleeping, then sprinkled way too many tits on top and said “yeah, this is fine”. You pick if you’re playing as a guy or a girl right at the start, and it actually matters, not just in “pronoun changed, congrats” way. Some scenes twist a bit depending on your body, who stares at you, who you can seduce, whose hand “accidentally” lands on your ass in the train when the lights flicker and the supernatural stuff leaks through. There is this first big moment where you’re at Lisa’s memorial, staring at a photo of your ex who got murdered in some fucked up way nobody wants to explain, and two completely different types of people hit on you almost at the same time: a smug cop with that “I’m totally abusing my badge” vibe, and this soft spoken girl with huge tits spilling out of a tight uniform that should absolutely not be legal in a public place. The game doesn’t stop to tell you “this is a choice”. It just lets you go horny detective or horny victim or both and quietly tracks who you want to bend you over later.

Sex is not just “reward unlocked, here’s generic bouncing”. You’re running around this fake-modern city where vampires are landlords, tentacle things hang out in dark alleys like drunk ninjas and one busty elf professor keeps “tutoring” you after class, squeezing your thigh while talking about mythology like she isn’t about to slide under the desk and wrap her lips around you. There is a scene at a cheap business hotel during a “vacation” that is not really a vacation. You’re supposed to investigate, but instead you spend half the night pinned against the balcony railing by a frustrated MILF who is technically someone’s wife and technically not human and technically doesn’t give a fuck. She rides you slow while the neon signs below blink and you can choose if you pull out or let her take every drop and feel that messy creampie drip down her inner thighs while she laughs and calls you a good little snack. Later the same day, basically in the same clothes, the story casually throws you into this awful netorare-ish angle where you watch through a half open door as a different woman you got close to is getting pounded by some supernatural asshole with a cock way bigger than yours. The game lets you peek, or walk away, or join and turn it into harem chaos. If you stay hidden, you see her begging for more, getting titfucked until her face is glazed and you can’t decide if you hate her, hate yourself, or just want in. And that mood, that messy mix of comedy, jealousy, horror and “fuck it, let’s suck his balls too”, that’s pretty much Mythos all the way through, jumping between murder clues, meme jokes, romance sweetness, corruption temptations and stupidly hot tentacle scenes in the dark where you swear you’re still solving a case while something slimy is filling your ass and your mouth at the same time.

Sunshine Bay feels like the kind of place your dick and your conscience go to fight each other. You start as this junior law guy with a “serious future” and a serious girlfriend, Nicole, who’s hot in that smart professional way, but honestly, once you hit the bay she turns into more of a guilty background tab, like a Chrome window you’re too scared to close. Your sister calls you after years apart, begging you to help her keep her hotel alive, and that hotel is where everything quietly goes to hell. One minute you’re learning the ropes of bookings and handling annoying guests, next minute you’re getting your cock teased by a girl who has no idea she’s about two decisions away from a creampie on the lobby couch. Or she knows. Hard to say. People in this game smile with that “I might suck you off later” look and it works way too well.

The sex is filthy in that slow burn way. It doesn’t just throw you into tits and ass in the first five clicks, it crawls under your skin. You’re chatting with a guest about religion over morning coffee, she crosses her legs, sandal slipping off her heel, and two choices later you’ve got her toes wrapped around your shaft under the table. Footjob with the sound of seagulls in the background, like some cursed ASMR. Another path you’re helping a married milf unpack her bags, and she bends at just the right angle, blouse a bit too loose, tits spilling just enough for your brain to shut down. Titfuck in a half-unpacked room, her whispering that her husband doesn’t touch her like that anymore, and you’re just there trying not to cum too fast because the game lets you drag it out. There’s lesbian tension sneaking around too. One moment you’re catching two female guests kissing in the hallway, soft and careful, and if you play it right it turns into a three way where you’re almost an afterthought while they focus on each other, tongues, fingers, the whole thing dripping in front of you while you stroke yourself like a pathetic fanboy.

The twins are what really mess things up. They show up like sunshine with knives. Cute, playful, that “we finish each other’s sentences and maybe your soul” energy. They flirt as a pair, they tease as a pair, one grabbing your hand while the other presses her body against your back in the pool, their wet hair on your shoulders, asking these fake innocent questions about how “serious” Nicole really is to you. And if you give in, it’s not just one pussy, it’s mirrored chaos in your bed, one riding your face while the other sinks down on your cock, moaning in almost sync, and you just know you’re crossing a line you can’t explain on WhatsApp later. There’s interracial scenes tucked in, like this dark-skinned goddess at the bar who dominates the whole place without even raising her voice, and when you end up in her room she pushes you down and takes control without asking, handjob turning into a rough blowjob, her lips shiny, making you hold back until she decides you earn the creampie. On mobile it hits different, by the way, because you’re sitting there on the couch pretending you’re checking Instagram while the screen is filled with animated mouths on your cock, tongues sliding over the tip, your “moral choices” boiling down to whether you pull out or paint someone’s insides. Your sister keeps trusting you. Nicole keeps sending sweet messages. And you keep clicking that one option you know you shouldn’t, just to see who ends up on their knees next.