Mike Oxmaul is the kind of guy you look at and think, “yeah, that dude’s gonna have a normal college life.” Then you play ten minutes and realize, nah, this poor bastard is cursed by the porn gods. He’s short, he’s under-equipped, everyone around him seems bigger, hotter, more confident, and the game just loves to rub it in. Half the time you’re laughing, half the time you’re clenching because the humiliation hits a bit too close.

The setting is standard university stuff at first: dorms, classrooms, clubs, parties, a bit of sandbox wandering where you click around the campus and see who’s available. What makes it hook you is how every little choice you make about Mike’s ego spirals into something filthy. Say the wrong thing to the smug futa roommate and suddenly she’s got him on his knees, making him “prove” he deserves to stay in the room. Pick the cocky option with the tall redhead milf professor and you get this scene where she slowly unbuttons her blouse in her office, sits on the desk, and then laughs when she sees what he’s packing. She still lets him bury his face in her tits, then calls him her “tiny little toy” while he tries not to cum in his pants. It’s mean, but it’s hot, and the game just keeps doing that mix of arousal and bullying.

The sex is all over the place in a good way, and the 3dcg animation actually manages to sell the dirty stuff. There’s a scene in the locker room where Mike is hiding in a shower stall, watching two thick girls share a shower and start playing with each other, and you can either stay quiet and jerk it or “accidentally” knock a shampoo bottle. If you fuck up, they catch him, push him against the tiles, and one of them starts stroking his cock with her feet while the other films it on her phone, laughing at his size, threatening to leak it unless he does exactly what they say. Later there’s a club sequence where a drunk married woman grinds on him on the dance floor, her wedding ring right in your face, and if you go along with it you get pulled into the bathroom for messy cheating sex, her bent over the sink, whispering how her husband could never make her gush like “this little loser.”

The game swings hard between humiliation and actual romance in a way that feels weirdly real. One moment Mike is used as a cum rag in a group scene, taking turns giving sloppy oral and getting painted by bukkake while a crowd laughs at his ahegao face, and then a few events later you’re on a quiet date with a shy classmate who admits she’s still a virgin and kind of into smaller guys. You can actually choose to be gentle, focus on kissing and slow vaginal sex, her clinging to him and whispering his name while he tries not to blow too fast. Or you can lean into corruption, turn her into a needy mess who ends up begging to be creampied in a public place, risking pregnancy because “no one notices us anyway.” That mix of sweet and fucked up gives the story more bite than I expected.

There’s a lot of kink variety buried around the campus and nearby streets. Street corners with girls clearly doing prostitution on the side, where Mike can either pay to be dominated by a tall trans escort who makes him lick her heels and then rams his ass with a toy, or stumble into a cheap quickie behind a bar with a big ass milf who demands a titfuck first, squeezing her lactating nipples all over his face. One of the most ridiculous moments for me was a “study group” that turns into a gangbang when a popular girl decides she’s bored, strips naked, and invites everyone to use her while Mike awkwardly watches. You can have him join in and get lost somewhere between thighs and ass, mostly ignored while the bigger guys pound her, and then she still pulls him in at the end, jerking his pathetic cock until he shoots on her face for the final messy finish.

Pacing is a little weird sometimes. You’ll have this intense anal domination scene where Mike gets pegged by a smug futa who keeps calling him her “practice girlfriend,” sticks a vibrator in his ass and makes him walk around campus, then next thing is a goofy humor bit in a classroom about a stupid group project, like nothing happened. The jokes land more often than not though, especially the self-aware ones. There’s one event where Mike is watching porn on his phone, and the video is basically a parody of the kind of inflated hentai bullshit the game itself is flirting with: huge tits, impossible ahegao, milk everywhere, furry ears, the works. Then his real-life neighbor, this curvy girl with glasses, walks in on him, sees what he’s watching, and quietly asks if he wants to try “something smaller, but real.” That switch from meme-level ridiculous to intimate POV oral, with her slowly licking his shaft and teasing the tip while staring up, made me actually shut up and pay attention.

I also kinda hate how sometimes the teasing never pays off. There’s a footjob scene in a lecture hall where a girl slips off her shoes under the desk, starts grinding his crotch with her toes, and the camera angles are great, you feel every twitch, but then the professor calls Mike to answer a question and it just cuts without a finish. No climax, no punishment, nothing, and the game just moves on like it never happened. It bothered me for way too long, I kept checking the walkthrough and everything, and yeah, it still annoys me. At least the voyeur stuff makes up for it. Creeping around dorm corridors, catching quick looks through half open doors, seeing titfucks, anal, some interracial rough sex where Mike can only watch and jerk, hoping nobody notices him, that stuff is done dirty and right. And when a tall, dominant girl finally drags him out of his hiding spot and makes him strip in the hallway as payback, forcing him to stand there naked while she strokes him by hand and makes him cum in front of a small crowd, you realize the game really understands how to mix shame, lust, and a bit of twisted romance into one messy university fever dream.

You wake up broke, horny, and back in your old room that still smells a bit like teenage shame and cheap body spray, and the game just kind of grins and says, “yeah, this is where it starts.” You’re this young psychology guy who thought he had life sorted, then it all collapses and you crawl back to mom’s house. Only mom isn’t just “mom” anymore. She’s this thick, soft, dangerous kind of beautiful, the kind that makes your eyes slide over her curves against your will. She walks around the house in clothes that hug her huge tits and that insane ass in a way no actual mother should, bending over the couch while you pretend to look away and fail every single time. The camera loves her, almost too much. It lingers on the subtle stuff, the underwear line digging into her hips, the way her nipple outline threatens to show when she moves. You’re supposed to feel guilty. You don’t. Or you do, but it just makes your dick harder. It’s that kind of story.

Then there are the sisters, and yeah, the game knows exactly what it’s doing. The older one moves like a witch who realized she can control a room just by existing. Goth clothes, dark nails that look like they’d hurt when she scratches your back, eyes that tell you she thinks you’re trash but her body keeps betraying her, slower each day. There’s this moment where you “accidentally” walk in while she’s bent over her desk in fishnets, headphones in, skirt just not quite long enough, and the main character just stands there too long while you feel his thoughts going places they absolutely shouldn’t. Later, when the hypnosis angle really kicks in, watching her resist you with this mix of hatred and arousal, hips still grinding in spite of her words, that’s where the corruption hits harder than any sex scene. She spits insults while she rides your cock, then trembles when you ask her who owns that tight ass now, and her voice breaks on the answer. It’s fucked up. It’s hot. It’s both at once. The younger sister is the opposite weather: all pastel pink, soft hair, candy wrappers, plush toys, girly socks that should not look so good wrapped around your waist. She trusts you way too much. She curls against you during a movie, her small tits brushing your arm, and the game slows the moment just enough that you feel that sharp, dirty edge when your hand lingers longer than it should on her thigh. Later, with the mind control, teaching her to touch herself on command, watching her bite her lip while she obeys, that’s the point where “romance” and “corruption” almost merge into this twisted little love story that you’re not sure you’re supposed to enjoy so much.

The hypnotherapist is the real doorway drug. Mom’s friend, older but still tight where it counts, eyes that see too much and voice that rolls over you like warm honey. You sit in her office as “assistant,” pretending to take notes while she drops other women into deep trance, fingers playing with their minds and their bodies at the same time, and you’re there, hard under the desk, memorizing every word, every pattern. There’s a point when she leans down behind a patient and guides the girl’s mouth on a toy, whispering triggers, and your brain just goes click. After that, going home feels different. Sleeping bodies don’t feel safe anymore. The game leans into sleep sex in a way that’s almost too intimate. Like, you stand over your mom’s bed at night, listening to her slow breathing, watching her tits rise and fall under the thin fabric, and one tiny suggestion you planted earlier makes her legs spread a little. She mumbles your name in her sleep while you slide your hand under her panties and the guilt is there, but it’s distant, like a voice behind glass. Same with the sisters, those late-night scenes where the younger one is half-asleep, squirming and moaning softly as your fingers tease her soaked slit, or the older one clenching around your cock in her sleep, cursing you in her dreams while her body begs for more. The game doesn’t flinch from that dirty intimacy. It loves deepthroats that go too far, tears at the corner of her eyes, spit and mascara mess. It loves big tits bouncing while you fuck them, cocks sliding between them until you paint her chest white. It loves asses, god, the asses: thick ebony hips, mom’s juicy milf curves, your sister’s perfect goth bubble butt stretched around your shaft when you finally push into her tight hole and she squirts all over the sheets. Anal, vaginal, titfucks, creampies that drip out slowly while she walks around the house pretending nothing happened. Sex toys buzzing between thighs, collars and ropes appearing on the “good girl” routes that still somehow pretend to be romantic. There’s a weird tenderness under all that filth too, like when you watch your own cum slowly swell inside a belly on the pregnancy scenes, or when a character you’ve completely twisted still smiles at you like you’re her whole world. It’s wrong. It’s beautiful in a fucked way. It feels like you’re building a harem out of people who were once your family, your patients, your lovers, turning them into obedient, wet puppets and devoted partners at the same time, and the game just lets you keep going, deeper, softer, nastier, never really asking you to justify any of it. I just wish the text messages inside the game didn’t use that ugly default pop-up style, it pulls you out for a second, but then somebody drops to their knees, takes you so deep they choke, and suddenly you forget you were annoyed at all.

Epifania looks like some luxury fashion week gone rotten in the sexiest way. Neon on wet concrete, everyone pretending to be high class while they’re literally lining up for a hole in the wall. You arrive as this nobody with big hunger and zero connections, just you and this building that looks like an abandoned outlet store someone forgot to bulldoze. Then that Devil Investor shows up, all smug and perfectly dressed, like the kind of client who sits front row at a fetish runway show and buys the entire collection with one bored click. She doesn’t ask if you want in. She just throws you the mission: turn this wreck into the most profitable and depraved brothel in the city. And suddenly you’re balancing spreadsheets and cumshots in the same breath, which, honestly, feels familiar to anyone who tried to run an Etsy store while doomscrolling Pornhub.

First thing that caught my designer brain: the girls are not copy-paste dolls. You start “training” them and it feels weirdly like fitting models for a very, very illegal lingerie line. You watch them change from shy little things clinging to basic underwear into total predators who know exactly how to use lace, heels, and a dripping mouth. Some are sweet mom-types with soft tummies and milk-heavy breasts, the kind you’d shoot for an expensive maternity fetish catalog. You push them into public booths where strangers use them like shared accessories. That whole gloryhole section? It’s like designing a collection where the face is irrelevant, only the silhouette of thighs and tits matters. I hated how it turned me on. I loved how it turned me on. It’s messy like that. One night I focused on a single “pure” girl, double-checking her stats on my phone between Instagram stories, trying to keep her first time special then casually booking her into a gangbang room right after because the numbers looked good. The game doesn’t guilt-trip you. It just quietly asks: more clients or more conscience? And you already know the answer, you capitalist slut.

The management part is sneaky. You think it’s just clicking upgrades, then you realize you’re planning who gets which kink like you’re coordinating outfits for a runway lineup: anal queen here, bondage star there, the tall milf with heavy lactation in the VIP lounge that smells like perfume and sweat. There’s this weird thrill watching your building go from dusty warehouse to multi-floor pleasure machine, with private rooms, voyeur windows, and that one office where you handle “contracts” with potential corporate partners who want their own harem branch. I kept pausing, thinking how I’d design actual lingerie sets for them: soft leather harnesses for the submissive accountant type, transparent body stocking for the market manipulator who ruins competitors while taking a footjob on her desk. At one point I was negotiating prices for public use sessions on one screen and sketching a crotchless bodysuit in Procreate on the other, and it all just blended. The game lets you push the girls into pregnancy deals like they’re limited edition drops, fill them up, send them back out, watch clients line up for that. It’s fucked up. It’s hot. I still wish the interface didn’t hide some details in tiny menus like some cheap fast-fashion site, but then I catch myself zooming in on a courtesan getting her ass filled and I forget what I was annoyed about. Anyway, the city doesn’t care. You start with nothing, you end with a building full of moaning, swollen, used bodies and a bank account that keeps climbing every time someone walks through your doors. It feels like running a fashion brand where the models never leave the show, they just keep getting fucked harder behind the curtain.

Guy is glued to his phone, girl is glued to her loneliness. That’s the whole mood here. You drop into this couple where Alex is busy pretending work is some holy mission, while Sophia is slowly rotting inside on the couch, scrolling, waiting, getting wetter and angrier at the same time. No magic, no superpowers, just real ugly shit: late replies, blue ticks, half-assed “sorry babe, busy” messages. The game really leans on that phone stuff. Most of the heat actually comes from tiny notifications popping up, chats you’re not supposed to read, pics that were meant for one guy but somehow end up on another screen. You think nothing’s happening, then you realize your stomach tied itself in a knot because of one emoji and a blurry selfie. That’s the kind of filth going on here. Not screaming porn from the first second, more like slow poison that ends with someone’s panties pushed aside against a wall you never get to see in full light.

The 3D scenes look a bit plastic at times, yeah, but they use it well with the whole voyeur angle. You often feel like some creep hiding behind the digital curtain, catching Sophia in that in-between moment where she’s still technically “faithful” but already texting that other guy about how “lonely” she is. Sometimes it’s just her checking herself in the mirror, lifting the shirt a bit too high, wondering if she still looks fuckable for Alex, and then you see her take another pic where she pulls the shorts down just a little more because this other dude “appreciates her body more.” Those quiet scenes hit harder than the actual sex, at least for me. And yeah, there is sex. Cheap hotel rooms, car seats, public corners where you’re praying the camera angle doesn’t show too much, which of course is exactly what it does. There’s a fantastic bit where she’s supposed to be sending Alex a sweet “goodnight” message while she’s catching her breath on some other guy’s lap. Messaging bubble still open on the phone, her hair a mess, dress up, thighs glossy. It’s nasty and kind of beautiful in the worst way.

What actually got me hooked was how the game likes to humiliate quietly instead of shouting it. Alex doesn’t always get big dramatic scenes; sometimes his only “reward” is a dumb little selfie from Sophia in a new dress, smiling all shy, and you already know that same dress was around her waist earlier for someone else. The game rubs your face in that without throwing a big “NTR SCENE!!” sign. You get phone calls Alex misses while he’s at “work,” and you sit there knowing exactly what she’s doing while his name flashes on her screen and she just flips the phone over. Public stuff too: skirts too short, no panties, the way the camera lingers on her trying to act normal in crowded places while some guy’s hand is way too high on her thigh. The pregnancy part sneaks up on you as another mindfuck, like, she’s talking about wanting a baby “to fix things,” and you start counting in your head, doing that grim calculator: okay, which night was she actually with who. They never spell it out clean, which is worse, honestly. You’re left staring at her smile during some cute domestic scene, all warmth and soft lights, and you can’t stop thinking about the raw, messy clips you saw three choices ago where she let herself get used like a toy. It’s not classy, it’s not subtle, but it hits that dirty, voyeur brain spot real hard.