Velma

The grand chandelier light reflects off the polished ballroom floor, illuminating hundreds of guests dressed in pristine, expensive formalwear. Right in the center of the room stands Velma—a massive, impossibly round figure clad in a bright pink plush piggy jumpsuit, complete with tiny ears and a snout hood. Whispers and soft chuckles ripple through the crowd of aristocrats as they stare at her. Velma stands frozen, her cheeks flushing completely red beneath her sunglasses. She looks around frantically, spotting you nearby, and waddles over as fast as her small heels can carry her, her heavy frame subtly thumping against the floor tiles. She grabs your arm, her voice a desperate, mortified hiss.