For the next seven days, the campers at Camp Merriment will enjoy the wonders of nature like never before. They will partake in filling meals cooked over an open flame, kayak in beautiful rivers, and see wild, yet friendly, creatures native to the forest. Their week will be spent in utter bliss, with campers taking home naught but fond memories… It's a shame you won't be joining them. Welcome to Camp Bearfoot; the abandoned camp ground where your instructor has accidentally led your group. With no provisions, and no sign of help arriving anytime soon, will the four of you manage to survive a week? Sexy antics and tensions are sure to rise as the days without help go on. Features: Play as a male or female protagonist Fanservice visual novel with lighthearted comedy Lesbian subplot between two of the girls Potential romantic encounter with one of the girls Uncensored content available for free

Lazuli is that kind of protagonist you usually see as a side joke in hentai: horny mad scientist, weird potions, zero moral brakes. Here she’s the center of everything, and the whole game just leans into that idea of “what if a futa alchemist decided the world is her test lab and every girl she likes is a guinea pig with tits.” The Cumcoction is her proud invention, but it behaves more like a jealous deity than a simple drug. One drop and a shy virgin trainer girl suddenly starts grinding on a table corner; a proud swordswoman wakes up from “just a drink” with hazy memories, cum leaking out of her ass, and a faint sense that she liked it way too much. The story keeps this strange mix of silly and fucked‑up: Lazuli talks about alchemy like a nerd who reads too many grimoires, but then she’s also the same maniac who will jerk off behind a curtain, whispering little comments while a corrupted Hinata worships her cock with both hands and mouth, drool everywhere, eyes shining with that brainwashed devotion hentai artists love so much. Scenes go from goofy experimentation to really mean stuff: blackmail with magically recorded voyeur footage, “accidental” sleep sex justified with bullshit pseudo‑science, and that slow corruption arc where proud heroines from worlds like Naruto, My Hero Academia, Dragon Ball, Fairy Tail, One Piece or Pokémon tumble down from “No, never” to “Fine, just my hand” to “Why does it feel empty when you pull out?” without even noticing how far they fell.

What makes it weirdly charming is how inconsistent Lazuli is as a character. One moment she’s doing an almost tender titfuck with someone like Nico Robin, clearly enjoying the shape of those big soft breasts, carefully smearing cum on them like she’s painting. Next moment she’s using transformation tricks so suddenly Serena or Nessa find themselves with a fat new cock between their legs, panic mixing with arousal while Lazuli explains in that smug voice how “temporary” it is, then pushes them into group sex anyway. The game uses that 2D and 3D mix in a dirty way: sometimes you get a short animated loop of a character like Erza or Android 18 taking anal, her ass bouncing and jiggling, and then it cuts back to static art for the aftermath, thick creampie dripping while Lazuli notes something in her research book. It feels like a porn lab notebook: handjob success rates, mind control side effects, level of groping tolerated before resistance drops. There are cute slices of perv life too, like Lazuli just watching Nami and Lillie masturbate separately under a subtle spell, legs shaking, completely unaware they’re being observed like experimental mice, or a harem scene where Kushina, Hinata and Sarada end up sharing the same futa cock, half from drugged lust, half from Lazuli’s shameless manipulation. The tone never fully decides if this is still “fun” corruption or already full damnation, and honestly that’s what keeps it interesting: you’re stuck in that sticky line where fantasy, mind control, blackmail, anal, vaginal, sleep sex, creampies, big tits, big asses, all blend together into one long, filthy project of turning every famous girl in anime into Lazuli’s personal property, catalogued, studied, and thoroughly fucked.

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.