Review of Mecha Gishi Resta no Daibouken Episode 2
Right out the gate, I’m slammed with this image of Resta perched on some rickety radio tower over a goddamn ocean, her outfit clinging like it’s painted on, barely holding in those massive, gravity-defying boobs—and I’m already a mess. My heart’s doing that stupid skip thing, like I’ve just chugged three energy drinks, because her voice, all breathy and annoyed at Fredero-chan, cuts through me sharper than the sea wind probably cuts her. I’m not ready for how her thighs tense as she grips the tower’s edge, the animation catching every little jiggle, and I’m sitting here muttering “holy hell” to my empty room because why does a cartoon character balancing on a metal pole feel like a personal attack on my self-control?
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Boob Physics and Radio Wave Chaos: Why Am I Sweating Already?
Let’s talk about Resta’s rack for a hot second because this episode doesn’t just animate big boobs—it worships them. Every time she moves to adjust the radio signal or dodge some creepy robot’s grabby hands, they bounce with a weight that feels criminal, like ripe melons smacking against each other in slow motion. There’s this one scene where she’s arguing with Fredero-chan, and her chest heaves with every pissed-off huff, and I’m just staring, jaw unhinged, because the way the light hits her curves makes them look almost wet already. My brain’s screaming, “Focus on the plot, idiot,” but my eyes are glued to how her top strains, threatening to snap like my patience did ten minutes ago. It’s not just sexy—it’s a full-on assault on my senses, and I’m kinda mad about how much I’m into it.
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Tentacle Terrors: I Didn’t Sign Up for This (Okay, I Did)
Then we get to the tentacle scene, and oh my god, I’m both horrified and way too invested. These slimy, writhing things come out of nowhere, courtesy of some pervert robot who’s got a voice like a sleazy used-car salesman, and they wrap around Resta like they’ve got a personal vendetta. The way they slide over her skin, leaving these glistening trails, is so disgustingly detailed I can almost feel the cold, slick texture myself—and I’m squirming in my chair, caught between “ew, gross” and “don’t stop, I need to see this through.” Her gasps are sharp, desperate, as one tentacle tightens around her waist, another teasing at her chest, and the sound design—those wet, squelching noises—makes my ears burn. I’m reminded of this weird dream I had once about being tangled in seaweed at the beach, except this is a thousand times hotter and infinitely more messed up. When she whimpers about not being able to shoot her gun, I’m right there with her, helpless, wanting to scream at the screen to either save her or let her fall completely. It’s chaos in my head, and I love-hate every second.
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Creampie Aftermath: Messy, Raw, and Too Damn Real
The creampie moment hits like a freight train, and I’m not even gonna pretend I wasn’t glued to every frame. After all the tentacle torment, Resta’s left trembling, and the robot—still creepy as hell—has its way, leaving her in this flushed, wrecked state. The animation doesn’t hold back; it lingers on the aftermath, the way her body shudders, the sticky mess dripping down her thighs, catching the light in a way that’s both obscene and weirdly beautiful. Her breathing’s ragged, little moans slipping out like she can’t help it, and I’m sitting here with my face on fire, remembering the first time I saw something this explicit and felt like I’d crossed some forbidden line. It’s not just the visual—it’s the way her voice cracks, half-defeated, half-still-fighting, that gets me. I’m torn between wanting to hug her and wanting to see her pushed even further, and yeah, I know that’s messed up, but this episode dragged that honesty out of me like a confession at 3 a.m.
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Blow Job Blues: Unexpectedly Hilarious but Still Hot
Okay, the blow job scene threw me for a loop because it’s equal parts steamy and unintentionally funny. Resta’s forced into this position with the robot, and while the close-ups on her lips—glossy, trembling, stretched—are straight-up pornographic, the robot’s dialogue is so over-the-top pervy (“I love liquids, I love saliva!”) that I snorted mid-scene. Like, dude, calm down, you sound like a frat boy who just discovered dirty talk. But then the camera pans to Resta’s eyes, all wide and teary, and the way her throat works, the little choked sounds she makes, pulls me right back in. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, with spit trailing down her chin in a way that’s so raw I can almost taste the salt myself. I’m laughing one second, then gripping my desk the next because damn, they didn’t have to go this hard. It’s like watching a car crash—you know it’s wrong, but you can’t look away, and now I’ve got this weird mix of guilt and adrenaline I didn’t ask for.
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Final Freakout: What Even Is My Life Now?
By the end, I’m a wreck—emotionally, physically, mentally, pick your poison. Resta and Kurie’s shower scene, with all the lingering touches and soft gasps, feels like a reward and a punishment rolled into one, and I’m left wondering why I’m so attached to these pixelated girls getting it on. The tentacles, the creampie, the sheer audacity of every frame—it’s all burned into my brain, and I’m half-tempted to rewatch just to figure out if I missed some depraved detail. Honestly, I might need a cold shower myself, or maybe a therapist, because this episode didn’t just entertain me—it rearranged something in my soul. If anyone asks why I’m spacing out tomorrow, I’m blaming Resta and her damn radio tower antics. Hell, I might even dream about those tentacles tonight, and I’m not sure if that’s a threat or a promise. Send help. Or don’t. I’m fine. Probably.
