The lull of the tank fades and you find alertness returning to your body. Julia's voice echoes in your ears, like the afterimage on your eyes after staring into the sun. The words themselves are swallowed up and inaccessible, but you can still taste the pattern of them.

You press the release button and watch as the glass lifts itself away. You're feeling warm, wired. Electric. Your body is ready for whatever's to come. You step out onto the rough floor, the cool air prickling your skin with anticipation.

Motion to your side catches your eye. The right-side chamber has opened at the same time. Stepping out of the tank in almost perfect sync with you is, well, you. Your clone looks at you exactly as you look at them. Your heart thuds, deep and rich, seeing how perfectly mirrored you are. Julia loves when you're symmetrical for her. You watch your clone's chest rise and fall with breaths that are perfectly matched to your own, and think about the complex web you two weave. Breathing the same air, in and out. You, Julia's original toy, and your clone, the part of yourself that you offer for her destruction again and again and again.

Your clone looks back at you with the same thoughts written across their face.

"Oh, you two look just perfect," Julia says with unalloyed delight. Both of you snap out of your contemplations, whirling eagerly to face the sound of her voice. "Utterly identical! That's what I like to see. You're so good for me when you're this attuned." Her voice glows with praise and satisfaction, and you stand straighter, proud. Your simple existence is earning Julia's approval, and what could be better than that?

"When you're identical, though... that means somebody has to stand out," Julia says, already nibbling at her lower lip with keen eagerness. Your body vibrates in conjunction with Julia's excitement, her desire stoking your own. "And you know what I always want to do when I see something perfect, right?" You do. Of course you do. You already know what's coming next. You've known since you stepped out of the tank. These things can't be rushed, though. 

"I want to see it break," Julia says, and her grin is so, so wide.

You whirl to your right, hands balling into fists. The clone's spinning towards you, eyes wide and already frenzied. Immediately you're at a disadvantage here - you're right-handed. That means the clone's able to push their momentum into a huge arcing swing with their dominant hand, while you're getting your feet set. You get your left arm up, absorbing a bit of the blow with your elbow and shoulder, but their fist catches you just above the ear and your head rings with pain. Julia laughs with delight, crying out something that you're too temporarily deafened to fully hear. Anger swells in you, furious with your clone for robbing you of the chance to hear even one sentence of Julia's perfect voice.

The clone's striding forward, striking at your face now. Jabs and scratches and slaps, ferocious. Anything to keep you off-balance. You cover as best you can but you're getting knocked backwards. You can't get your footing right. You aren't any kind of fighter, and so neither is your clone, but you're both tapping into a primal kill-or-be-killed instinct right now. 

You manage to get your defenses set a bit, and even start to land a few strikes of your own. But that first punch is still throwing off your equilibrium, and it's hard to catch your breath. You can feel yourself flagging, just a little. If you can settle in, slow things down for a minute, maybe you can find a way to trip your clone up and exploit a mistake. Get the upper hand.

At that moment, though, Julia shouts to you both. "Come on," she says, fervently, her bloodlust nakedly clear. "Don't hold back. Who's going to impress me?" Your plan dries up instantly. Biding your time, being strategic - those aren't options. That's not what Julia wants to see. She wants your aggression, your unbound hostility. Julia gets what Julia wants.

So you lunge forward. You drop your hands, spread your arms, and lower your head. You charge into your clone, spearing them around the midsection. They lift a knee as you come in, trying to crush your face against the hard bone there, but you're moving too fast and it glances off your collarbone instead. Still hurts but you can ignore it. You drive forward, slamming them backwards, heaving them against the wall. They're raining blows on the back of your head, and you can't see straight, but you hear a horrible expulsion of air from their lungs as they hit and your pulse races with pleasure.

You catch a glimpse of Julia as you try and disentangle yourself. She's sitting in a chair, legs wide. Cock in her hand, stroking as she watches this display. The sight of her like that - aroused, approving, wanting more - fills you with the energy to finish this. You'd do anything to get that reaction for her. Killing for her is nothing. You've done it so many times already.

You're distracted, though. The vision of Julia commands your attention for a few moments too long. Before you can break away from your clone and finish your task, they drive an elbow down onto the back of your head. 

It's not enough to knock you out. You're moving as it lands, and so it's slightly imperfectly struck. But they're already winding up for another, and another. The third consecutive hit leaves you sprawled on the floor, unable to see straight. Julia's cooing words now, pumping her shaft faster. She's blurry in your vision but still the most beautiful thing in the world. You can't quite understand what she's saying - your brain isn't working right. Something is terribly wrong. But you know it's encouragement. Your clone probably thinks she's encouraging them, but they're wrong. She's praising and commending you. Lauding you for giving her what she wants, what she needs. This isn't about killing for Julia, you realize. That's the least important side of this dynamic.

It wasn't supposed to be you, though. Wasn't that the idea? The clone. It was the clone that was disposable. You're the original, you're real. You wonder when the game changed. You didn't realize it had. This is the first time you get to play the true game. 

This is so much more. 

Your clone heaves you to your feet. You can hear their ragged and rasping breath. You probably broke at least one of their ribs, you realize. They drag you over towards... something. You can't see. They hold you up, letting Julia see you. You open your eyes wide, drinking in her face. She's beatific, ecstatic. Droplets ooze from the tip of her cock, the anticipation so perfect.

Then the clone slams you downward, face first, and you hear the noise of something giving way, and you do what Julia made you for.

THE END.