Rogue’s eyes flicker like she’s got a storm trapped behind them - no pun on Ororo intended, though she does make a cameo that feels like it came straight out of an adult fever dream. The game throws you in as this anomaly mutant who can brush against anyone without going poof, and suddenly what used to be dangerous turns into something primal, desperate, almost poetic if poetry was sticky and breathless. Rogue tests you early, there’s this scene - locker room, dripping tiles, wet echo - and she doesn’t know if she wants to kiss you or crush you. The writing snaps between tender and filthy so fast it makes your brain lag behind your pulse.

The wild part is how easily it flips from soft-eyed confessions with Jean Grey to pure shameless corruption paths with Emma Frost whispering filth you don’t even think Marvel’s lawyers could process. There’s something dirty-luxurious about that mansion setting; so many doors, each one unlocking another line you’ll probably regret reading at work. Some of the animations (I swear they move like low-res ghosts) have that “almost too human” vibe - you catch a tiny twitch of Rogue’s fingers clutching skin, and it’s hotter than the whole naked scene that follows. But then Storm steps in later and everything turns theatrical, lightning illuminating this ridiculously intimate chaos. You forget half the choices you made, yet every dialogue click still feels personal, like someone watching over your shoulder quietly taking notes.

And sure, maybe Jubilee’s route doesn’t sync right, and Wanda sometimes clips through clothing (yeah, that bug - literally distracting), but when those powers mix - light sparks tracing across bodies, voices overlapping, love and dominance tangling - it hits this weird emotional chord. Like half romance novel, half scandalous lab experiment. I hated that one sound loop kept restarting mid-scene, yet I replayed the moment anyway. It's messy, horny sci-fi and doesn’t pretend otherwise. Maybe that’s why it works. Maybe.

Alex isn’t some blank-slate hero. He’s tired, horny, confused, and still stupidly in love with his wife. The game throws you right into his messages, like you’re scrolling through someone’s private phone. Julia’s texts feel too real - half sweet, half cold - and when she starts posting those late-night blog updates, you can’t help but dig deeper. There’s that sick thrill of spying on someone you shouldn’t, mixed with the ache of wanting her back. You’ll find yourself switching between guilt and arousal faster than you can type a reply. It’s voyeurism wrapped in heartbreak, and it hits harder than expected.

The choices don’t just flip a switch - they twist the knife. One moment you’re convincing her to talk, the next you’re watching her “experiment” with another man while you pretend it’s fine. The game doesn’t hold your hand; it lets you drown in your own jealousy or curiosity. The sandbox bits let you chase different routes: rebuild what’s broken, open the door to other lovers, or just spiral into full-blown NTR madness. And yeah, the sex scenes go all in - no fade-to-black bullshit. Julia’s moans sound like confessions, not performances. Sometimes she’s teasing through the camera, sometimes begging, sometimes letting someone else touch her while you watch, and it’s messy and hot and awful in the best way.

What really got me though was how alive everyone feels. Chad’s that idiot friend who somehow gives good advice between dick jokes. The twins show up later and completely derail any moral compass you thought you had. Monster girls, MILFs, even a shy lesbian side route - it’s all there, tangled in one big horny emotional disaster. The writing swings from romantic to filthy without warning, and I kinda love that. It’s not polished, not safe, but damn if it doesn’t feel human. You’ll hate yourself for caring, then get off anyway.

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.

Public transport wifi is trash, Pornhub keeps buffering, so I ended up poking around this thing instead, and somehow it ate my whole commute before I even noticed. The idea is simple as fuck: you sit in this sleazy casting couch office, you’re the “professional interviewer” with a dick that thinks it’s the main character, and all these famous anime waifus walk in like they answered a shady Craigslist ad. It looks like one of those mobile VN ports you’d secretly tap through on the toilet at work, but it runs smooth in browser and doesn’t pretend to be more serious than it is. Girl shows up, you pretend to ask a few questions, then it turns straight into “how deep can she take it” faster than Instagram shows you an ad after you talk about shoes once.

The fun is how wrong it feels to see characters like Tifa or Asuna trying to play “shy actress” for two lines, then suddenly they’re on their knees, lipstick smeared, eyes rolled up in that full-on ahegao, spitting drool down your shaft while the MC keeps talking like this is some normal HR interview. One minute Kobayashi is awkward and stiff, sitting proper, skirt straight, asking if this is really “just a simple audition.” Next click, she’s bent over the arm of the couch, fat ass bouncing on your cock, glasses crooked, trying to sound professional while you pound her so hard the text box might as well just say “nnnngghhh” for three scenes. I had one run where Froppy came in super polite, stuttering a bit, tongue peeking out, and by the end I was making her swallow every last drop while she’s got cum on her cheeks, tongue out like some horny frog idol who forgot what modesty was. The oral scenes are honestly the best part. They let the camera sit a bit too long on the lips wrapped around that big dick, slurpy sound effects, stupid little bits of dialogue like “it’s bigger than I expected” that should feel cringe but I still clicked next like a clown. Vaginal stuff hits too, especially on the big tits / thick hips girls. Bulma riding you while pretending it’s “for science” made me laugh way more than it should. Her tits bouncing, her moaning into some bullshit excuse about “data collection” while your cock is basically rearranging her brain. And the MC is not subtle. There’s this one moment with Chizuru where she comes in with that rented girlfriend vibe, all polite smile and legs crossed, then the questions slowly get filthier until he’s basically asking “how many times you can cum on camera” and she just kind of gives up and spreads for him. No smooth romance buildup. Just straight to “get on the couch, open that pussy, let’s see if you can handle a creampie on first shoot.”

It’s all very obviously made to be “five minute fun” and yet I kept going through girl after girl like some horny goblin collecting skins in Genshin. The game acts like you’re running a low-budget porn studio, but there’s almost no management layer, just enough fake “casting” talk to justify why Tifa has your cock halfway down her throat. Sometimes that annoyed me. I actually wanted to pick outfits, choose lighting, fail a scene, bully them a bit more with choices. Instead it’s mostly “click line, get lewder, dick out.” But in a shitty way that also works, because when I’m half dead on the metro after work I don’t want deep strategy, I just want Asuna kneeling between my legs and calling me “director” while she drools all over my dick. I kept thinking, “ok, one more girl and I close Chrome,” then suddenly I’m watching Satsuki, who’s supposed to be this icy queen type, riding me with that smug face twisted into a full orgasm meltdown, tits bouncing like crazy, talking about how this is “only for testing.” It’s scuffed, sometimes the dialogue repeats, sometimes the transitions are janky, and at one point I got irrationally annoyed that the interview desk lamp is always tilted the same way. But when you’ve got a screen full of ahegao, cum strings on lips, big asses slapping against your hips, and a parade of famous waifus lining up to “audition” on your cock, that stupid lamp is the last thing you’re actually looking at.