"Really? That's terrible, Kitty. Yes, I'll make sure the rest of the team get's the message. I'll have Doc Strange check it as well, just in case this is some mystical attack. Reed Richards? I'll certainly inform him as well, if you feel it's best. Not too
worry. Think of all the times we've been erased and recreated in differect realities, and in each case...yes, I thought you would. Don't worry about it, Kitty. Just be brave...and soon, this will all be over."
Tony Stark hung up the phone, and chuckled at the information Kitty had given him. Emma Frost and Wolverine? He wouldn't miss those two professional pains in his ass. And what did he care of Gambit and Colossus? She may have painted a gruesome picture, but
it certainly sounded like the sneak thief and her former boyfriend were having fun. Still...he had to keep this underwraps. It was just his luck that he'd intercepted little miss X-Losers cry for help. He flipped open his cell-phone and texted the Name Changer.
It was the easiest was to handle this situation.
Kitty Pryde sighed in relief, confidant that Tony Stark would get the ball rolling. Soon enough, either Reed Richards or Doctor Strange would solve the problem of the Name Changer, and she could get back to her...life?
The mansion...was different.
As the effects of the Name Changers transformation of Gambit Queen and the Xaviers took effect, the mansion began to change...becoming a grand, opulent and somewhat gaudy reflection of their tastes. The floors...walls...decorations...no expence had been
spared...ever. Lost paintings and artwork of dozens of old and modern masters suddenly appeared, transforming the mansion into the single largest showplace for stolen art treasures since the fall of the Third Reich. The rooms shifted and streatched, as the
mansion became the penultimate expression of the Xaviers desires. Gold, platinum and gems of all sorts winked and glittered as the once tasteful home became the sprawling MTV Cribs-like pad of two of the worlds richest and most powerful party girls. Kitty
ran to her room, frightened and wanting something familiar...and found even that changed. Only the best of everything was allowed, and her small, cozy room was now a vast, opulent space, dominated by a massive bed with silk sheets, a huge hot tub, a walk in
closet. It wasn't that she hated the idea of a little pampering, but...this was just silly. There was a large, framed photo of two outrageously teenage vixens - one of them obviously the transformed Emma Spring, and the other...her body so perfect and her
hair so long...
'Charlez and Emma Xavier' read the plaque mounted on the frame...and Kitty knew the Charles was gone too.
She wanted to cry...but she had too be strong. Had to be strong. Had to be...
The Name Changer - responding to Starks direction to "Distract the girl for a while, but don't change her mind much...yet." looked down at her. He smiled, and looked at her name. Katherine 'Kitty' Pryde. Shadowcat. He then looked at how Emalu was charging
towards his newly minted queers, and decided to redirect her...
Kitty felt a strange sort of...flexing in her body. Somewhat like when she'd first tried to phase, she shook it off...then it came back. She gasped, and felt a twinge...then another...then a dozen...then a hundred. With each sudden pulling, twisting and
tweaking that she felt, another feature shifted and changed. She...she'd always hated how she'd looked, hadn't she? Wanted to be pretty. Was obsessed with it. Could remember telling the Xaviers...begging them to help her. And they'd laughed and told her that
she should get whatever she wanted done. They'd given her the number for a dozen plastic surgeons and told her to get whatever she wanted done. As much as she'd wanted. Just charge it to them.
And she had.
Feeling panic rising, she stood and ran to a mirror, shocked and horrifed to see her face...changing.
It was horrible!
She remembered all the horror stories of "Plastic Surgery" she'd heard and seen, but suddenly...she knew that every story had only made her more facinated...more obsessive...more insistant on getting the same thing done...and done...and overdone again. Even
though she was only 17, she hated everything about herself. She must be perfect...and that perfection was the utter opposite of what she saw in the mirror. She had to live up to her many many rolemodels. In fact...her role models had never gone far enough.
Heidi Montag? An amateur! Donatella Versace? Not extreme enough! Nikki Cox? Bigger cheek and lip implants! Michaela Romanini? Amanda Lepore? Priscilla Caputo?
Fake! Fake! FAKE!!!
She screamed in horror as wave after wave of plastic surgery decended on her, each pass scraping away another layer of what had been Kitty Pryde, and replacing it with plastic, botox, collagen and silicone. Bones in her face were broken and reset...then
broken and reset again. Cheeks spread...nose shifted...mouth widened...lips swelled then swelled and swelled again. Breasts filling...ballooning...engorging...butt implants...rib removal...hair extensions...tooth and skin bleaching...a network of nearly invisible
scars traced the pathes of almost countless surgeries she'd undergone in the past years, erasing every last trace of her old appearance. When it was done, there was not the slightest trace of Kitty Pryde left. It its place...was a freakish, fake and plastic-looking
woman. Her face was wide and cheeky. The eyes were narrow instead of open and friendly. The nose was an absurd little button. The mouth was set in a permanent smile, with lips swollen and rubbery. Her hair was a huge cloud of glistening blond extensions that
tumbled to her knees in Farrah Fawcett waves and swoops. Her body was squeezed into a bright red dress...and drasticly out of proportion. Breasts that were just huge, soccer ball globes that started at her collarbone and moved not at all when she moved. Her
waist was cartoonishly cinched and narrow, then her hips flared out into massive, projecting ass and thighes. He feet were tiny, pointed and bound into ballet boots with 8-inch stiletto heels. She raised her hands to her face, and saw ridiculous, 4-inch long
red talons. Square tipped and glittery. On each finger was at least two rings...sometimes more. Each ring held a gem the size of a marble. Her arms were heavy with bracelets in glittering gold and flashing diamonds...her neck...her ears...diamonds and gold
She looked up into her eyes, and now THEY were different. Contacts turned her brown eyes to crystal blue. She looked...looked nothing like Kitty Pryde...
She started to speak, but her throat was tight and wrong. Her voice was low, smokey and nothing like her own. She tried to say her name. Say it. Say Kitty Pryde.
"Khatt Vhanity..." she said, her distorted throat, thick lips and wide mouth giving her pronunciationa weird lilt that sounded...foreign. "Mye nahme ess Khatt Vhanity...Iy ahm nhot dis gurl...ay ahm...how yhou sahy...Khatt Vhanity...mhy Een-glish nhot soh
What the fuck had been done to her? She was torn with a mix of horror...and self-lust. She was sooo beautiful. Maybe another dozen surgeries would give her true perfection?