You load it up in a bored mood, thinking it will be just another horny office thing, and then suddenly you are sitting in this glossy fashion magazine, surrounded by women who all look like they walked out from some Instagram explore tab that you pretend not to check. HauteBeat hums in the background, that soft loop of office AC, a distant printer, heels clicking across the tiles like a metronome for your dirty thoughts. The protagonist is this fresh graduate, all awkward, shy, still a virgin, and the game really leans into that. He stammers when the editor-in-chief leans over his shoulder, her blouse just a little too open, her perfume basically choking him. The scene where he is alone with the secretary in a tiny meeting room, with the glass walls and everyone outside pretending not to look, that one hit me. She lowers her voice, asks if he understands what “loyalty” means in this office, and every click through the dialogue feels like you’re holding your breath, waiting for the moment her hand actually lands on his thigh. There is no rush, but also no mercy. The pacing is like that slow elevator ride where you already know you’re going to do something filthy when the doors open.

First choice that really made me stop was when you decide if he keeps his “good boy” energy, or starts testing his new power over these women who pretend they’re in charge. One path he plays the sweet intern, trying not to stare at his boss’s big ass every time she bends over a layout. The other path, he starts using what he learns about them, their little secrets, and the mood shifts from nervous to predatory. There is this one route with the married coworker from accounting, the one who always has her phone face down on the desk. She invites him to “help” with some files after hours. Music drops out, it is just the wet sound of her lips when she finally slides under the desk and starts sucking his cock right there, while the screen shows the office lights reflecting on her lipstick-smeared mouth. Her wedding ring catching the glow every time her hand strokes him is such a petty detail, but it sticks. And yes, later, if you push it, you can corrupt her properly, going from quick blowjob breaks to bending her over the office copier for anal, watching that big ass shake while the machine spits out useless sheets.

Not every scene is perfect. One of the titfuck moments feels a bit rushed, like they knew she has massive tits so they just went “ok, put dick between them” and moved on. But then another girl, the one styled like a cold, distant creative director, drags him into the wardrobe room full of clothes for the next shoot. She sits him down on a low bench, climbs on his lap like it is a throne, and the sound design quietly peaks. You hear fabric sliding, hangers tapping, her little moans that she tries to swallow because there are still people a few meters away. When she finally sinks down on his cock, the angle almost makes you feel that stretch yourself, slow vaginal grind that turns into rough fucking and then spanking her ass so hard the clothes around them rustle. The corruption is not just “she is horny now”, you feel how some of them start asking for it. The secretary who once flirted safely is later begging to be used under the desk while the boss is in a video call. The boss who once scolded him starts testing how far she can go before completely giving in. It is all choices and branches, but it never feels like a math problem. More like you are texting three people on WhatsApp at the same time, promising each of them something different, knowing at least one is going to get hurt and you kind of want that. And yes, the protagonist is inexperienced, but by the time he has a little harem of coworkers sucking, riding, getting spanked in the break room, he is not pretending to be a nice guy anymore. Or maybe he still is. Depends what you click.

You spawn in this fancy New York law firm that looks like LinkedIn and Pornhub had a weird baby, and somehow you bullshitted your way into a lawyer job even though you’re basically just a smooth-talking criminal with a good memory. Office is full of people who look like they charge 900 dollars per hour just to breathe near a printer. Everyone is faking something. Degrees, morals, loyalty, orgasms, all of it. Your boss is this shark attorney who feels like he sniffs bullshit for breakfast, and he knows you’re not legit, which is kinda hot and terrifying at same time. That tension rides over every scene. One second you’re talking about contracts and hostile takeovers, next second you’re pinning a coworker with a ridiculous ass against the glass wall of a conference room while half the city skyline reflects in it like some HBO show went off the rails. The game loves that vibe where you’re half one wrong move from prison, half one wrong word from getting her panties on your office floor.

The lewd stuff hits strongest when it leans into that power play thing. Like, there’s this early moment where a big-titted coworker starts quizzing you about a case, not because she cares about justice or whatever, but because she suspects you’re a fraud and wants to see you squirm. Dialogue gets tight, she pushes, you bluff, she leans over the desk so her blouse struggles for its life, and you can practically feel your character thinking with his dick and not his brain. If you play it right, it flips from interrogation to flirting to straight-up “close the door, take off your tie, I’m bored of billing hours” energy. The sex scenes go hard on body language: her ass popping out of that pencil skirt, lipstick smeared on your collar, your hand on her hips like you’re negotiating a contract with her curves instead of her client. At some point I forgot half the legal terms and just clicked whatever kept her moaning. Funny thing, though, while the erotic vibe is top tier, pacing sometimes feels like ordering from Uber Eats and getting your dessert first, then the napkin, then the actual food. One scene takes forever teasing with office banter and lingering camera angles, then suddenly plot twist, criminal past pops back in like “hey bro, remember the drug deal?” and everything gets tense again while you still got metaphorical cum brain. The mix of secret identity, high-end law office bullshit, and all these gorgeous coworkers with big asses squeezed into business attire is lowkey cracked though. You jump from serious courtroom strategy to “how hard can I fuck her on this desk without anyone hearing through the walls” in two clicks. I kept alt-tabbing between this and Discord, trying to explain why I was sweating over a fake merger agreement. Honestly, the story around lying your way up the firm ladder while trying not to get caught is almost too good for a porn game, which is funny, because sometimes the sex scenes come in so fast they chop the tension you were enjoying. But then an angle hits where her tits bounce just right in that bra that clearly violates HR policy, and suddenly yeah, whatever, bring on the next deposition with benefits.

Leo starts as that guy in the office you barely notice, half-wrinkled shirt, cheap tie, fake confidence copy-pasted from a TikTok hustle guru. Then he opens his mouth and suddenly you’re in this sleazy mix of finance porn and actual porn where everybody lies, everybody wants more zeroes on the screen, and also everybody has a ridiculous chest. His world is penny stocks, dirty “business meetings”, and those glossy office corridors that look like they were built just so someone can press a MILF up against the glass. You’re not just clicking through a story, you’re basically trying to see how far you can push this dude before he becomes a full-on monster or just a horny clown with a brokerage account.

The hook is simple: power, money, and asses so big they have their own gravity. Instead of some fantasy kingdom, it’s that fake Wall Street vibe, more like Wolf of Wall Street if it had less coke jokes and more “hey, maybe I should not fuck my boss’s wife over a Bloomberg terminal”. Every “deal” feels like a setup for either a win on the market or a win in bed, and sometimes both at once. One moment you’re talking pink sheets and pump-and-dump, next moment a real-model secretary with a push-up bra that should honestly be illegal is asking if you “understand how leverage works” while bending over your desk. I laughed out loud twice, then clicked “continue” like a degenerate. The humor hits that trashy sweet spot: not smart, not subtle, just enough to make you feel slightly ashamed you’re enjoying it. But also some jokes fall totally flat and you kinda just stare at the screen like… ok, who wrote that line, a drunk accountant?

The office MILFs are basically the main event. They’re dressed like LinkedIn profiles from hell: tight skirts, blouses that pretend to be professional but the buttons are losing that battle. Big tits, big asses, big attitude. One of them does this thing where she sits on the edge of the table during a “performance review”, and the camera just… stays there, locked on the curve of her ass so long it becomes funny. I had like three unread emails open in another window and still didn’t alt-tab away. Choices actually matter more than it first looks. You say yes to one risky trade and suddenly you’re in a private “celebration” in a dark office with a married client who clearly hates her husband but loves your tongue. You say no, try to be moral, and she just gives you that look like you’re poor and boring, then walks away slowly so you can watch her hips and regret your life. The multiple endings vibe is real, you can feel routes branching, even when you’re only clicking to see more sideboob. Funny thing, sometimes the erotic scenes drag a bit too long, like the writer was scared to cut anything. And then a really hot moment is over in two clicks and you’re thrown back into charts and numbers, which is kinda rude to my dick, not gonna lie. Still, the way money, ego and sex wrap around each other here feels filthy in the right way, like opening the Robinhood app right after nutting and thinking “yeah, I could ruin my life for this”.

Monet feels like somebody took a regular city, squeezed out all the warmth, and replaced it with glass, chrome and secrets. IRYS throws you in there like you just woke up from a dream you half remember, wearing a cheap suit and an ID badge that says you belong to Deimos. You start as this regular office guy, doing spreadsheets, watching useless meetings on Zoom while pretending to listen, getting coffee that tastes like it was filtered through somebody’s sadness. On the surface it’s that boring corporate life. Then you start noticing small weird things. People know things about you that you never told them. A coworker remembers a night you “spent together” that you’re pretty damn sure never happened. Your boss praises you for a project you have no memory of, and in the same breath hints that you owe him more than just good performance. That’s when the game starts to crawl under your skin a little.

The horny part doesn’t show up like a hentai pop-up. It slips into the routine. You’re in a late-night office review, just you and this colleague with big soft tits almost falling out of her blouse, blue light from the monitor on her skin, both of you talking about quarterly targets like robots. Then there’s a line of dialogue that feels too intimate. She leans in too close. Her hand stays too long on your shoulder. One click and you push her away and keep pretending to be a good boy. Another click and you grab her wrist, pull her into your lap, and suddenly your boring Excel sheet is sharing space with her moans and the sound of your cock sliding into her on the boss’s fancy ergonomic chair. IRYS is like that a lot. It gives you these “professional” masks and waits for you to peel them off. Sex scenes are very physical, animated just enough that when you’re fucking her against the office window or bending her over a lab table, you feel every thrust. Sometimes you are gentle, slow, like she is something you want to protect from this fucked up city. Other times the corruption hits and you use her, hand on her throat, filling her raw and hard while she begs you not to stop, even when the guilt dialogue kicks in afterward and makes you question if those feelings are yours or some Deimos script injected into your brain.

What really got me was how the romance and the sci-fi mess bleed into each other. There is this one scene where you wake up in your small apartment, naked, next to a coworker you definitely did not take home. Her hair is messy, thighs still glistening, your cum leaking out of her, and she looks at you like you have been lovers for months. You check your phone and there are whole chat logs, selfies, dirty pics, little heart emojis, like a full relationship that someone speedran while you were asleep. It feels like the universe glitched and rewrote your fate. As somebody who actually believes in destiny, that hit weird. You start asking: did I really fall for her before and just forgot, or was this romance manufactured in some secret Deimos experiment so they can pull my strings better? Later, when you take her in the back of the office, pressed against a server rack humming with data, her legs wrapped around your waist while you fuck her deep and she whispers that you were “always meant for each other”, you can’t even tell if that’s sweet or just another line of code. The game loves putting you in those moments. You climax inside her during some illegal lab test, alarms faint in the background, and instead of simple post-nut clarity you get this strange dream flash of another timeline where you never joined Deimos and she never existed. IRYS keeps poking: is your dick leading you, or is the company guiding your dick so it can own your heart and your guilt at the same time. I kinda hate that it works so well. I also kinda love it. I’m confused. It fits the city.