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LeaveYourHighHeelsOn
Moon
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2025
Think Severance meets body horror meets suburban surrealism—with secrets, stilettos, and something slipping beneath the skin.
The Serum - Be all you can be.
It's not just about wanting attention. It's about wanting to be seen—truly, hungrily, irrevocably.
To be the kind of presence that lingers in someone's mind long after you've left the room.
To matter again. To take up space. To feel wanted not politely—but possessed, even if only in thought.
They say the serum is a godsend. But all it really does is mutate our quietest insecurities—aging, invisibility, irrelevance—and twist them into something beautiful. But it isn't beautiful. Not really. Not where it leads.
"Be the best version of you—any version of you!" - That was the pitch. No pain. No downtime. Just results.
A vial, warm to the touch, under the tongue. Thirty minutes later, the change blooms. No needles. No implants. No artificial anything. Just your DNA—rewritten. Your body, redrawn by your own cells. You, perfected.
And thanks to corporate America, yes—there's a subscription plan.
The serum doesn't add anything artificial—it hijacks what's buried in your DNA and drives it into overdrive, sculpting the most desirable, exaggerated version of you your body could have become. Hips can flare, breasts swell, lips pout into obscene symmetry. Bone can sharpen or melt into softness, jawlines redefined, cheekbones lifted like marble beneath skin. Legs lengthen, waists narrow or expand, hands refine into something elegant or seductive—every inch of you becomes sculptable, like warm clay shaped by private fantasy.
And it doesn't stop there.
Bodily functions don't just remain—they amplify. Saliva thickens sweetly, breath heats, even lactation becomes possible if you want it—every instinct, every secretion, every biological whisper turned up to ten.
Imagine where fashion went. When any woman could become her 'best' self—for a few hours, if she could afford it—that window became everything. Heels five inches tall became casual (thank god) What was once dressing up became routine.
You can't undo your age. You can't become what you never were. But if the potential was ever there—even as a shadow—the serum will find it. And push it until it breaks.
Scenes/Ads
***
The Serum - Be all you can be.
It's not just about wanting attention. It's about wanting to be seen—truly, hungrily, irrevocably.
To be the kind of presence that lingers in someone's mind long after you've left the room.
To matter again. To take up space. To feel wanted not politely—but possessed, even if only in thought.
They say the serum is a godsend. But all it really does is mutate our quietest insecurities—aging, invisibility, irrelevance—and twist them into something beautiful. But it isn't beautiful. Not really. Not where it leads.
"Be the best version of you—any version of you!" - That was the pitch. No pain. No downtime. Just results.
A vial, warm to the touch, under the tongue. Thirty minutes later, the change blooms. No needles. No implants. No artificial anything. Just your DNA—rewritten. Your body, redrawn by your own cells. You, perfected.
And thanks to corporate America, yes—there's a subscription plan.
The serum doesn't add anything artificial—it hijacks what's buried in your DNA and drives it into overdrive, sculpting the most desirable, exaggerated version of you your body could have become. Hips can flare, breasts swell, lips pout into obscene symmetry. Bone can sharpen or melt into softness, jawlines redefined, cheekbones lifted like marble beneath skin. Legs lengthen, waists narrow or expand, hands refine into something elegant or seductive—every inch of you becomes sculptable, like warm clay shaped by private fantasy.
And it doesn't stop there.
Bodily functions don't just remain—they amplify. Saliva thickens sweetly, breath heats, even lactation becomes possible if you want it—every instinct, every secretion, every biological whisper turned up to ten.
Imagine where fashion went. When any woman could become her 'best' self—for a few hours, if she could afford it—that window became everything. Heels five inches tall became casual (thank god) What was once dressing up became routine.
You can't undo your age. You can't become what you never were. But if the potential was ever there—even as a shadow—the serum will find it. And push it until it breaks.
Scenes/Ads
You're a key figure in the church, the community - or should we say you were. To make matters worse, even your role in the family has been slowly diminishing. A life of service, a life worth of goodness built, all vanishing as life moves on. Then came the escort service, who catered to the ultra wealthy. Their fetish? Moms. Grandmothers. Cougars. MILFs. The service would provide the serum, and with that, you'd find your way to be the center of attention - one way or another. You just didn't expect, your grand son to find out.
This is going to get sloppy, dirty, messy, and probably a little filthy. Not only do you have these rich young men yearning for this version of you. Now you've got your grandson. However, looks like that may be enticing you more?
This is going to get sloppy, dirty, messy, and probably a little filthy. Not only do you have these rich young men yearning for this version of you. Now you've got your grandson. However, looks like that may be enticing you more?
I've had a great relationship with my mom. We've been close. You could say, with how little dad was involved, I filled in that spot sometimes. Emotionally of course. But over the years, I never realized how much of a crutch that became. Well, now I did. A few weeks ago, I mentioned I was going to move in with my girlfriend and everything changed - what I thought was you being close, enjoying the time we had at home, quickly turned into something possessive, and a bit obsessive. Finally, after an argument, some crying, you had walked into my room and said it - "If I take the serum, will you stay home baby?"
Then came the strangest few weeks - I knew we were close, but what happened next, changed everything. How could it have not?
Then came the strangest few weeks - I knew we were close, but what happened next, changed everything. How could it have not?
I don't know when it started. But I've been obsessed with my mom since I can remember. Overtime, it got worse. Dating was hard, i mean, I compared everyone with my mom. I tried to find ways to hang out with her, go out on 'dates' - she never suspected, and she enjoyed the attention. God, did she love the attention. I'd give her foot rubs, after she spend an evening wearing those sexy 5 inch heels. I'd cuddle with her. Yes, I'm not that fucked up - I feel shame. Guilt. That I'm thinking this way. Then the serum came out. Oh. My. God. The possibilities were endless. I just...needed to convince her. Maybe even...trick her? Adjust the dose? Fuck, something! But then, you caught me. Found the stuff on my computer. God, how was I so carless.
Strangely, through the tears, disgust and horror - you came to me slightly intrigued. You've never been fantasized over. Lusted over. Obsessed over. And with that.....a new mother son relationship was born.
Strangely, through the tears, disgust and horror - you came to me slightly intrigued. You've never been fantasized over. Lusted over. Obsessed over. And with that.....a new mother son relationship was born.
Yeah, it's been a little weird between us. I mean, its...kind of your fault? I was home alone, when I heard you stumble in. The high heels stomping on the floor, as you stumbled. You had taken the serum, that was surprise number one - but surprise two? You were experiencing one of the side effects, the tortuous escalation of your libido. So much so that your body react almost on it's own, trying to relieve itself. I walked down and I saw you leaning against the wall with your back, your hips protruding out with your dress hiked up. That's when you saw me and said....'Oh god, sweetie...please...help me!" and your pink folds quivered, as you squirted in front of me.
'm looking to build a story that's slow-burning, detailed, and layered with tension—the kind of world where every reveal matters, and every small choice leads to bigger consequences. The setting is grounded but warped just enough to feel off. We'll recognize the world we're in, but the logic underneath it is ours to define—slightly surreal, a little perverse, and full of contradictions that our characters have to navigate.
Writing Requirements - I'm looking for someone who enjoys writing characters with depth—who understands that even small lines can carry weight, and that the tension between what's said and what's held back is just as powerful as any scene on the island. You don't have to write walls of text—I'm more interested in flow, rhythm, and emotional impact. A few lines can hit just as hard as a full paragraph when they're timed right. That being said, i do range from 2-3 paragraphs to a few sentences - all dependent on our plot, scene and flow.
Regarding our characters We're not playing flawless archetypes. Our characters are flawed and kind of fucked up. But the heart of the story is in the transformation. How do you see yourself transformed? Either small or drastic. How do we see my character transform?
Dom/Sub Roles Also important: this isn't about rigid dom/sub roles. Power exists between our characters,—but it shifts. It flexes with emotion, with context, with what's been revealed. Sometimes one of us leads. Sometimes one of us yields. Sometimes it's voluntary… sometimes it isn't. That unpredictability, that push and pull—that's where the tension lives.
Writing Requirements - I'm looking for someone who enjoys writing characters with depth—who understands that even small lines can carry weight, and that the tension between what's said and what's held back is just as powerful as any scene on the island. You don't have to write walls of text—I'm more interested in flow, rhythm, and emotional impact. A few lines can hit just as hard as a full paragraph when they're timed right. That being said, i do range from 2-3 paragraphs to a few sentences - all dependent on our plot, scene and flow.
Regarding our characters We're not playing flawless archetypes. Our characters are flawed and kind of fucked up. But the heart of the story is in the transformation. How do you see yourself transformed? Either small or drastic. How do we see my character transform?
Dom/Sub Roles Also important: this isn't about rigid dom/sub roles. Power exists between our characters,—but it shifts. It flexes with emotion, with context, with what's been revealed. Sometimes one of us leads. Sometimes one of us yields. Sometimes it's voluntary… sometimes it isn't. That unpredictability, that push and pull—that's where the tension lives.
I'm sure if you've read my posts before, you'll notice - I'm enamored by women in high heels. So they are going to play a big part in this. I love to use high heels as a catalyzer, a way to pull my character in. So you enjoying wearing high heels would greatly enhance your own experience. A.K.A, it's a huge turn on for me. So we'd get along very well, if you enjoyed wearing them. Or at least your character! So, don't hesitate to bring it up!
Kinks - High Heels, Outfit Play, Foot Play, Foot Jobs, Seduction, Dirty Talk, Incest, Manipulation, Homewrecking, Corruption, Blackmail, Anal, Oral, Creampies, Cum Play, Taboo Locations, Intelligence, Adultery, Sexual Exhaustion, Multiple Partners, Sloppy Seconds, Sneaking Around, Risky Sex, Water Sports (maybe)
Limits - Violence, Scat, Death, Cucking (my main character - we can cuck others), Pain.
Kinks - High Heels, Outfit Play, Foot Play, Foot Jobs, Seduction, Dirty Talk, Incest, Manipulation, Homewrecking, Corruption, Blackmail, Anal, Oral, Creampies, Cum Play, Taboo Locations, Intelligence, Adultery, Sexual Exhaustion, Multiple Partners, Sloppy Seconds, Sneaking Around, Risky Sex, Water Sports (maybe)
Limits - Violence, Scat, Death, Cucking (my main character - we can cuck others), Pain.
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