The woman looking back from the Mirror was unrecognisable as Jessica Jones, sometime Superhero, sometime Private Eye, and sometime Avenger.
From her mass of bright red hair that was obviously out of a bottle, to the massive silicon stuffed TITS that surged out of her chest (one of the flimsy, more to be seen than used, bras they got for her new wardrobe said G-cup on the label and these monstrous jugs barley fit in it) and the thick overinflated lips, coated liberally in an eye catching shade of red to better advertise their intended use.
Her ass had been inflated using implants, and her hips widened to give her a patently fake hourglass figure; she had two studs in her right ear to go along with big hoop earrings in both her earlobes, a belly button piercing attached to a “gold” chain that looped round her waist, thick rings through both her nipples and one through her artificially enlarged clit.
In terms of tattoos she had a tramp stamp, which read CA$H in a thick black script framed by a sort of tribal design, a coiled snake around her upper left arm, and a patch of cheetah spots on her left shoulder.
All this was wrapped in the briefest, sluttist clothing possible; a pair of towering stripper heels, leading to black, patterned thigh highs with lacy tops framing the expanse of smooth skin between them and the edge of her gold zebra print micro-mini skirt, skin-tight and barley wider than its attached black belt, just exposing the bottom most curve of her juicy, jiggling ass.
She wore a tight white halter top, with a plunging V neckline that exposed most of the top of her straining Gazongas, and just the barest edge of the areola around her nipples, but was so brief it exposed a good quarter of the underside of her giant, artificial Bazooms as well.
Completed with loud makeup and a smatter of cheap, flashy jewellery she was both unrecognisable and an advertisement for cheap, hard sex...which would have been bad enough, but that was an advertisement that would need to be paid off.
It wasn’t enough for them to look the part, they’d actually need to BE prostitutes, having sex for money and living off the profits. They’d need to keep up their “roles” 24/7; they couldn’t just ASK what they wanted to know, the information would need to come to them, which meant they’d need to make friends, contacts...that would mean socialising, which could mean smoking (and damn it she’d just managed to quit) Drugs (which scared her) and Drinking (which scared her even more, what with her being a recovering Alcoholic and all...but f#ck it, if it was a choice between sobriety and Dani, there wasn’t a contest and her being a lush might actually improve their cover rather than harm it) as well as whoreing...
And it wasn’t bad enough that she was doing this to herself, she was dragging others down with her...
Fortunately no matter how extreme the changes, most of them were reversible; her implants, the ink for her tattoos and much else had either been made of specially adapted unstable molecules or other smart materials, and applied using specially constructed machines, which had allowed everything to be done in less than an hour without any need for healing or recovery time, and it could all be removed just as easily without any lasting effects...about the only things shed need to deal with the normal way is the hair dye and piercings...
Even so she felt guilty, it wasn’t the “modifications” that were the problem it was everything else; with that thought in mind she looked over at...