You moved in perfect unison, a dance of death. Your arena opponent stood no chance. Your first shot went right into the cockpit, instantly killing the pilots. There was no follow up shot, and neither of you thought for a moment there would need to be one. You two were death perfected, an unbroken string of victories in your fights. Fatalities were rare under the rules of the fights, but the two of you single-handedly tipped that statistic. From your very first fight the day you met her, every one of your victories had been lethal. No game was worth playing without risk, and you two played to win.

You both fought to win and you both fucked to win. You were not sure which of you the habit came from, but the broadcast of your life together provided for good broadcast television. There was no need to create drama for views with pilots living together when you were at each others' throats and mouths as soon as you returned to your accommodations. It hadn't started that way, sex at first was rough but passionate. You'd fought for the dominant position in a less serious way, but the shared drive to win would consume you both.

Was it even a shared drive to win? You'd come to the fights out of desperation more so than a desire for fame and fortune. She’d come to them for a similar reason, you seemed to recall. What you knew for certain was that she had been a fighter before you joined, and you could remember through the haze the day she met you. The memory damage was getting concerning. The shared neural link that a pilot pair used to operate an arena mech had never joined two individuals for so long. Cracks in the system were beginning to appear, long forgotten flaws surfacing. Were they ever flaws in the design, or did they have a greater role to play once long ago?

You still had some awareness that your memories were blending together, your personalities fusing into one. Nobody really knew how this would end up. Any records had been long lost, and no cases had happened in the area to study. The death of you as an individual was foretold, but nobody could say when it would happen.

You kept a notebook with a genetic lock. It didn’t matter if she knew what was in it, but you needed the reassurance. If you could open it, then you could be sure in that moment you were reading your own story. You knew her story as well as your own, clear memories of opening her own notes and reading the details within.

Your upbringing was uneventful and without any special note. You’d been isolated from any peers your age as you spent your formative years in poverty. You had more concerns with where your next bite to eat would come from, and what spot in the city would be least dangerous to sleep in that night. You had no family that you knew of. When your memory was still your own, you had no hints of memory about any relatives. You did not know where you were from or why you were alone. Things would get worse once you turned 18 and the enforcement could put you on trial as an adult for being homeless. You knew that and had signed up for the arena on what you believed to be your 18^th birthday. You had no way of knowing it was actually closer to your 20^th, which had happened a month ago. The system had so little information on you, it was not your fault you knew nothing about yourself

Isolation from potential friends hadn’t kept you from intimacy. Most people might have done so by choice, you had few other options when you went to work. Actually 18 then, your generally soft features and more delicate build helped you get some more eccentric customers. You were effeminate enough that a few times you’d had your face sat on as a last resort. As long as you did what she asked and kept your clothes on, you were good enough. Good enough was the highest compliment you’d ever received and the best you had once believed you could strive for.

Meeting your partner for the arena fights the first time had been an interesting experience. She wasn’t too happy about the amount of tuning that would be required on you for you to be ready to pilot, and she took it out on you. You had kept her from continuing to fight, and she would turn that need to you. Doses of estrogen helped ready you for the mech and filled a void you didn’t know you had, and she took special pleasure in abusing the changes to your body. The first day you started growing breasts was perhaps the worst. The pain in your chest as you started to develop into yourself was easily overshadowed the instant she slapped you. You almost passed out the first few times she hit your nipples, and then she decided to get more aggressive.

You seemed to be about to oversleep one day as she had tortured your chest until well past the point you’d get any sleep. She’d pinched and twisted you in ways you didn’t know could happen to you, and your tits were bruised from her work. The alarm hadn’t rung when she straddled you, but the second it rang was when she struck. Forget the night before, the feeling of her teeth biting into your nipple was beyond excruciating. You screamed, and you could feel her laughing as she ground you in her teeth. She gave you a quick suck and then spit the blood onto your face. Time to get up, or she will be using you to wake you up. You kept her from real fights, so the least you could do was be of use to her. You didn’t know yet how much of your life was broadcast for general entertainment.

Weeks turned to months as her enjoyment of your body only intensified as you blossomed. Your bruises grew more numerous and intense, deep purple always staining your skin. The first day she noticed the estrogen had softened you below was horrible to recall, and the first time you truly required medical treatment. The night hadn’t started that way, and you had no idea it would end with so much blood. You tried to defend yourself from her attacks, but you inevitably lost. She had pinned you down and kept her hand on your throat, pinching down each time you started to struggle. She seemed to like to bite your tits, and you gained several new bits marks on them. Blood slowly seeped through the spots where her teeth had cut into you, distracting you for long enough for her to shove herself into your ass.

You’d been used for money before, but nothing like this. You usually got high to relax yourself and took precautions. She shoved herself in raw, and she was substantial enough to hurt. She had you pinned and brain half-starved of oxygen, there was nothing for you to do. You could feel through the haze her thrusting away at you for what felt like hours. The longer it went on, the worse it got. Your ass struggled to fit her, and you were silently praying to yourself in hopes she would just fill you and be done with it. Anything to end the pain. Surely she’s holding herself back just to prolong your misery. Your misery was what she desired, and you eventually pleased her enough. You felt her thrust into you differently as she filled your ass. The grunt of pleasure was a new sound to you, and you were glad it was over.

That was your first mistake. She decided to have a little fun putting you both together, grabbing hold of you and rubbing herself down your length. She must have been a bit pent up, as each stroke caused her to drip more cum onto you. She noticed pretty quickly how soft you’d gotten on the estrogen, and decided to do you a favor. The stroking had felt good, but her lips around you felt better. For a brief moment, you thought you might get to enjoy sex for the first time. Her teeth put that thought to rest right away, and you were able to scream in pain since you were no longer being choked. The blood and pain only drove her on, and you could see the look on her face as she bit down again and again.

You woke up in a hospital bed, blood-soaked bandages covering your hips. Even with a morphine drip, you ached in ways you didn’t know possible. The doctor informed you that you had passed out from the pain. She’d effectively given you complete bottom surgery with her teeth, and what remained of what you once had was not salvageable.

You should have been more mad than you were. Perhaps it was the drugs, perhaps it was that she just seemed to know what you needed overall. Her methods may have been brutal and painful, but it seems she got you where you were going faster. Not that it was without benefit to her, as bumping you to the top of the surgery list meant one more hole for her usage. Were you supposed to be her combat partner, or had you signed up to be her stress relief? Somehow the trials she put you through seemed to be part of the training, as nobody moved to put a stop to it.

Being connected to the training unit for the first time would prevent you from ever being able to go back to any other life. You and her knew every thought the other had, every motion you were about to make. Your performance with her in the first training round was stellar, the first time you’ve been more than just acceptable. You moved as one mind in two bodies, each completing the other in ways neither of you knew you lacked. You moved in perfect synchronicity, defeating the simulated opponent in under a minute. It was beautiful, and earned you and her both new fans from the stream. That night was passionate, you each going at the other in turn without violence. The field of battle quelled her bloodlust but ignited her passion, and you were convenient. Perhaps your minds had already begun to meld together from that first synchronization.

That first night of passion without blood drew audiences to you both. Bets you had yet to learn about being placed on who will top, who will win, how they will fuck. Bets on your future performance as a combat pair. Bets on your first match flooded in. In time, you’d come to learn about the viewership and the betting. You’d eventually turn back to self-medicating for the stress of your life being so public, and you’d eventually stop again as your degradation continued.

You spent each day of the next several months in simulated fights. There was no need to train you with rewards or punishments in the machine; she would take care of that herself. The anticipation was worse, as you knew her frustration and plans well before her fist would reach flesh. It drew in viewers, especially the time when she got enraged enough to leave the sync and attack you inside the simulator. She rather brutally beat and raped you, and the arena staff were forced to scrub the blood and cum from the simulator.

Those several months flew by fast as you grew to truly know the other. Your first fight was special for you both. She’d not had a win due to fatality before, and it was your first win ever. The blood spray out of the cockpit of your opponent as you drove your fist through the viewport and pilots nearly made her orgasm from excitement. You were in for it tonight, and the audience was in for another treat after such a win. Things were gentle, her lust for violence quenched by a real win. The lives of the two pilots you both took satisfied her for that night, and you were used only for pleasure. With fights happening only once per week, the win would not last. The aggression towards you grew each day, with the day before your fight resulting in another beating and rape.

You’d only sustained a broken nose from that last beating, and it wasn’t enough to impact your performance the next day. Another flawless victory, and you felt her orgasm through the shared neural link. The end of your opponents that time had been especially gruesome, the largest portion of their remains being the blood smears down the mech they had operated. The crowds were larger than the last week, excitement filling the stands with your victory. Your activities that night would draw in those same viewers, eager to watch your defilement at her hands. She may have been gentle and caring, but she still made use of the changes she had forced on you. She could and did overpower you with ease, your psychological passivity helping her out.

The passionate rape you experienced after each win would drive the crowds on porn sites, and the violence that would escalate after would serve only to hype up the crowds for your next fight. The rape you’d experience after a victory wasn’t enough to satisfy your fight fans, and the porn streams served to draw in more viewers. Gamblers followed the viewers, and the arena would begin to make good money off of you both. Perhaps that is why they would never step in.

The third week started with fewer injuries than before, only some moderate bruising around your body. Your victory that week was yet more brutal still, and you would wonder how much of you truly participated in that. Killing both pilots quickly meant neither of them really felt the pain, but if one died while both were in the link that pain would be shared. The survivor of your first attack was still reeling from the pain of dying when they were grabbed and crushed in the hand of your mech. She was already orgasming from the first death and came harder at the second. The staff would be washing out the cockpit again with the mess she was dripping down.

The worst bit was not feeling her arousal, but feeling your own. You knew she felt it too, and you’d yet to be turned on by the death. Perhaps she was rubbing off on you slightly, as you were far more wet than you were comfortable being. She knew, and she felt you through that shared link. You could feel her plans to make use of your arousal as it would let her thrust in easier. You wanted to clench up and you wanted her cock, your mind torn in two. Just as good as it would feel to not be used by her, you wanted to feel her inside you. You knew she knew it too through the shared link, and the thought of you desiring her only intensified her thoughts about you.

The next week until your fourth fight was perhaps less eventful. You might have been used, but you’d escaped with no bruises. She might have coated you inside and outside with herself, but the lack of injuries was a nice change of pace. You were prepared going into the fight, the crowd nearly filling the stadium this time. You could see for the first time how popular you two were with the vendors hawking merchandise of you both. Top scenes from prior weeks played out on the screen before your entry, bets being loudly taken over how roughly you would be fucked and if you would win. A fourth win in a row would be a record, and the excitement was palpable. They were not just here for you, but for the blood you promised. The dried stains on your mech proved your prowess.

It should be expected by now that you would win, and you did. It was another fatality, and the audience was eating it up. She didn’t orgasm, barely any remains of the opponent pilots could be seen. You’d pretty soundly atomized them. You had come closer to getting off this time, and you felt something new from her over the neural link. Confusion, tinged with worry. Why had you almost come, but not her? Did you fail her, or did she fail you? You both found the answer out yourself that night when you laid into her for the first time. She was as shocked and confused as you must have been your first day, and you felt no different. You could barely recognize yourself or why you enjoyed this as you drove your fist into her. You could feel your own readiness dripping down your leg, and she could see it too. The look of worry intensified, even though you could no longer fuck her the way she fucked you. That didn’t matter, as you grabbed her by the neck and pinned her face down. Your fist would fit in her ass all the same, and you’d choke her if she struggled.

Perhaps the only thing that kept her from struggling too much was the confusion. You only needed to put slight pressure on her neck to still her at moments. Your fist was enough to leave her gasping and begging, and you were able to get off from her pathetic moans after a while. After all she had done to you, she didn’t even deserve a helping hand. Your anger at her spiked, and as she reached down to finish herself off you spun and kicked her. The impact of your foot against her head shocked you back to normality. You could not recognize who you’d been those past few hours, nor who she had been. She was unconscious on the floor, still hard from all your work. You were able to get medical treatment to arrive, and you spent the time until she woke up filled with guilt.

Had it been anger? Perhaps you were motivated by revenge? Why hadn’t she fought back? Had she been hoping you’d fight back to begin with rather than her always winning? Did you have some relationship where you misunderstood the dynamic of violence? Thoughts swirled through your head, possibilities running away with themselves until she awoke. She wasn’t mad, you noticed. The best way to describe her was confused and a little shaken. You’d pay for that after she rested, and you did. You two spent the remainder of the week fighting back and forth, the winner raping the loser. She mostly came out on top, but you pulled out the occasional victory.

The next win was again a gruesome one, and you both surprised yourselves and the other as you both came. The crowd had packed into the stadium and overflowed out onto the streets, watching as best they could through the gaps in the seating at the screens. You both fought the week after, more evenly matched than the last week. You won handily the one time and decided to return the favor she had given you, moving down and biting down on her. She’d taken some of you that you had no longer needed, and you would take the same from her. Her blood was oddly delicious, and you caught yourself enjoying her pain and the taste of her. This must have been how it was when she did you the favor.

You two continued your win streak until your retirement was paid off by the fight arrangers. You’d started to dominate too heavily, and the betting had fallen off. Leave now, or they’d be forced to fix the matches against you until it cost you your lives. You both surprised yourselves and each other by agreeing to it. Your retirement was where you started to realize the changes and began to keep your books. You’d been forever tied to the other without realizing it as your minds melded together. You’d continue access to the simulator to work at training the new fighters for the arenas as your selves as individuals began to fade. Had you turned into her, or had she turned into you? Your memories faded together and your life as one mind across two bodies truly began.