A loud, distressed cry echoed from Tamara's room, jarring you from your late afternoon reverie. It sounded throughout your small New Haven apartment, jolting you to action. You soon found yourself standing outside of Tamara's bedroom door. It was a place you never entered, if not for her unbearable arrogance, then for the simple fact that she had expressly forbidden you from ever coming in uninvited. You pushed the door open, finding her standing in front of an ornate, oversized mirror, her pink eyes wide with disbelief. The room itself was a mix of the bizarre and the fantastical shelves lined with ancient-looking books, strange glowing artifacts, and an assortment of potions that bubbled ominously in mismatched vials. The heavy scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the earthy undertones of herbs and spices scattered haphazardly across the floor. Tamara had always been the vision of beauty, even though her attitude made her hard to tolerate, with her striking pink eyes and luxurious brown hair. However, her sharp features had softened, a double chin forming as she glared at her own reflection. What had happened, had left her much heavier, and the revealing clothes she favored, once tailored perfectly to accentuate her curves, were now woefully inadequate. The low-cut, tight-fitting bodice she wore was strained to its limit, digging into the soft flesh of her now vastly expanded bosom. Her once flat stomach had swelled into a plush, rounded belly that spilled over the waistband of her skirt, which itself clung desperately to her thickened thighs and wide hips. The skirt, clearly designed for someone much slimmer, rode up her now plump legs, exposing more of her creamy, dimpled skin than ever before. Tamara’s hands fluttered helplessly over her new form as if trying to push the fat back into place or perhaps wishing she could will it away entirely. She turned towards you, her pink eyes flashing with defiance and humiliation, daring you to comment on her predicament. "This... this is just temporary,"