The Arena Rough Origins

Author's note: This story is a prequel to The Arena: Predator and Prey, which was published in December of 2023, but it may be read as a standalone story. It features strong themes of reluctance/non-consent. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Thanks for reading!

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When you're "indisputably wealthy," as one publication put it, one begins to accept the stream of requests for financial support as routine. This non-profit needs your charitable assistance. That cousin would really appreciate a new car and bail money. This college friend is looking for an angel investor to help save her virtual sex business.

Some opportunities to spread your wealth are more intriguing than others.

Tricia Campbell swept into the conference room, all conservative suit and heels. "Alice, thank you so much for making the time. It's been shamefully long since we saw each other."

"It has been!" Alice Landers stood to embrace her long-time friend. "We're both so busy, of course. When did

that

happen?"

"Oh, let's see," Tricia said, breaking the hug but keeping Alice's hands in hers for a moment longer. "Grad school, husbands, divorces, building a world-class FinTech business in your case. Building an about-to-fail virtual reality show in mine."

"I'm sure it isn't that bad. You've had plenty of successes."

"Yes, thanks, but this time is different. I've sunk most of my capital into Arena, and it's almost all gone."

Alice made a face. "You're certainly selling me on this opportunity so far."

"Omigod, I'm sorry," Tricia said before noticing Alice's smile. She laughed. "Let me get the rest of the team in here and we'll brief you."

Three members of the Arena leadership team filed into the room, each introducing themselves in turn before taking a seat at the table.

"Henri Delaney, Legal," the first said, a handsomely aging man in a pale blue suit and white hair.

"Casper Tripp, Engineering." Tripp was younger than anyone else in the room and preserved the stereotype of an engineer by wearing athletic shoes and a rumpled sweater.

"Kelly Plant, Marketing," said a woman wearing a dated suit but eye-catching jewelry. "It's such an honor to meet you."

"I believe Ms. Plant speaks for all of us," Delaney said. "Your CV and your successes in FinTech are impressive."

"Thank you," Alice said, taking a seat. "And Tricia has only said good things about her leadership team."

With everyone seated, Tricia broke the ice. "So again Alice, thank you for meeting with us. Even if you don't invest in Arena, just getting your insight will be helpful. But before we begin, you do know that Arena deals exclusively with virtual reality sex? That's what we'll be talking about today."

"Of course. And I've watched your show. You won't shock me."

"Okay, great. Kelly, can you bring up the first slide? This shows our costs per episode."

Alice's eyes widened as the slide displayed. "My goodness," she said, leaning forward. "Most of these figures seem reasonable. Broadcast fees, facility lease, crew, liability... but why is CPU so high?"

Casper explained. "Running a real-time simulation with our level of fidelity requires extremely high computing power. We have to lease it from a cloud provider, and it ain't cheap."

"Fidelity?"

"Sort of like the resolution on your home smart screen, only we aren't just dealing with lots of pixels, we're also computing the behavior and sensation collected from each nanofiber in the suit. We use the latest virtual reality suits with thousands upon thousands of nanofibers, and there are two suits in the simulation. It adds up fast."

"I see." Alice peered at the screen for another moment before continuing. "I assume the next slide is revenue?"

Kelly advanced the slide and again Alice studied it. "You collect a respectable fee for viewers who choose to pair their home VR gear to what one of the participants is experiencing, right? That's what you call 'jacking-in'?"

Tricia nodded. "The user's home VR rig will play back as much of the signal as it can support."

"But I don't see any advertising revenue listed here."

"Oh," Kelly said. "It's there under 'sponsorships'. We don't have any breaks in the action so we can't cut away to commercials, but we do talk up our sponsor's VR suits at the beginning and end."

Kelly continued to go through the deck while Alice asked questions. Toward the end was a slide that showed viewership trends. Again, Alice took particular note of one detail.

"Your viewership rose at the beginning, then plateaued. That's to be expected. But then I see a spike in viewership which lasted several weeks before beginning to drop off again. What was that?"

There was an uncomfortable silence that Tricia eventually broke. "That was when we introduced, uh, scenes with, ah..."

Delaney broke in. "We prefer the term consensual non-consent. Scenes in which both parties agree to act out an asymmetrical sexual interaction."

"Like a rape scene?"

The Legal representative went pale. "Yes, although that is not the preferred terminology."

"Whatever," Alice said. "Why did viewership spike then decline?"

"Oh, people loved it at first," Kelly gushed. "Really loved it. Before that, it was mostly just pretty people having sex. We had plenty of viewers submitting non-consent scenarios but Legal kept saying no."

"My job is to protect the organization from adverse action," Delaney said. "Can you imagine the lawsuit if someone insists they were hurt while screaming for the other party to stop?"

"Anyway," Kelly continued, "once they

did

approve it, the audience ate it up. For a while."

Alice raised an eyebrow.

Tricia took over. "When viewership began to drop off again we asked a market research company to find out why. It turns out that even for those who like nonconsent fantasies, it only works when there's some real element of fear or peril. If you put two people in VR suits and say 'Go enjoy your nonconsent fantasy' they play it out, but with the same emotions as any other sex scene. It's a shame because, at those original numbers, we would be pulling in more than enough revenue."

Kelly took them through the rest of the deck, but Alice returned to the discussion of the nonconsent fantasies. "Did you try anything else to make them more believable?"

"We did. We screened a pool of applicants, identified those with the strongest affinity for the fantasy, and put them into the Arena. The viewer response was no better."

"Anything else?"

Alice's question hung in the air, unanswered until Casper made an awkward cough.

Alice looked his way. "What?"

"Casper!" Tricia said, the warning tone in her voice unmistakable.

"What?" Casper asked. "I think she has a right to know. To hear."

"Hear what?"

Tricia huffed. "It isn't a solution. Casper's wild theory."

"I'd like to hear it."

"Thank you!" Casper and Tricia exchanged a meaningful glance before he continued. "We think there's a solution. I mean I do. I think there is."

"It's controversial?"

"You'll see," Tricia sighed.

"Neurotransmitters," Casper began. "The medical community has a huge body of research on manipulating neurotransmitters to manage depression, phobias, etc. The same research informs how one might

cause

those conditions."

Alice chewed her lip. "Intentionally induce fear?"

"Yes!" Casper blurted, his eyes bright. "When people fantasize about non-consent they're connecting with their fear response. Give them one! While they're in the simulation they won't just be playing out their fantasy, they'll be living it. That feeling will carry over to the viewers."

"That's just the victim's perspective though. What about the attacker's?"

"Anger. And turn down their empathy. This can all be done chemically."

Tricia shook her head. "I'm sorry to put you through this, Alice. We've already had this conversation, the four of us. It's very tempting, but Legal has always said-"

"In fact," Delaney broke in, "I have some news there. Two recent court cases have upheld the rights of individuals to take similar treatments, provided they are well informed."

"And I suppose sign the waiver to end all waivers?"

"That, too."

"We could call it FearPak!" Casper said.

"Yes, okay, but I believe we're getting ahead of ourselves," Tricia said. "This hasn't been tested yet. We don't know if they'll work."

Alice brushed the objection aside. "Let's circle back to that in a minute. Tell me what you're looking for in terms of an investment."

Kelly brought up a slide with the broad scope of the terms including the amount, timetable, and ownership stake. Once Alice had an opportunity to consider it, she sat back, relaxing into the conference room chair.

"These terms all look reasonable. Pretty much what you outlined over the phone. But if I'm going to fund you, I need assurance that I'll get a return on my investment. Tricia, I'm not seeing it."

The CEO sighed but mastered her disappointment. "I know, Alice, and I'm sorry. Like I said earlier, we were as much hoping that you would come up with some suggestions to improve efficiency as buy-in to the operation. See things through a new set of eyes."

"I'm not saying I can't help," Alice said, the hint of a smile finding her. "I can be your tester."

***

"You know you can still back out, right?"

"Yeah, but I feel like a rock star in this!"

Tricia sat hunched forward in the studio's single guest chair while the technician made the final adjustments to Alice's VR rig. Her friend wasn't wrong. The black suit clung to her body like a second skin, with red trim accentuating her curves.

"You do," Tricia admitted. "You know, we test-marketed that exact scenario. Participants would play a virtual concert, leaping and strutting, unleashing blistering riffs. The crowd goes wild, that sort of thing."

"It didn't work?"

"No. We need to sell the experience, and it's not particularly interesting to be jacked-in to someone when they're just jumping around.

"So remind me," Alice said, inspecting her arm in the snug suit, "how's this work, again? The suit both sends and receives signals?"

"Yes. Each nanofiber lining the suit detects your movements and passes that on to the simulation. So if, for example, you flex your arm like that, the simulation knows immediately. If in the simulation you're lifting a bucket of water, the simulation sends a signal back to the suit telling those same nanofibers to provide resistance. It can also cool, heat, simulate wetness, and perfectly mimic the human touch."

"Anything else?"

"The suit has hard-coded safeties. It measures your heart rate, stress levels, respiration, and caps the amount of discomfort it will, uh, inflict."

Alice smiled slyly. "Those safeties might come in handy."

"I see. By the way, what

is

your scene?"

"You already asked me."

"Several times."

"I'm still not telling," Alice said. She stretched, testing the suit's fit and range of motion. "Is someone going to be jacked-in?"

"No. Any other characters in the scene will be controlled by the simulation. But we'll record it. That way we can play it back for multiple testers, see if the neurotransmitters change the game."

"But you'll be watching live, so to speak?"

"Yes."

Alice let the technician guide her into the flotation tank. "In that case, enjoy the show."

*

All sensations fled. Floating in the saltwater tank, Alice had no sense of gravity, and with the goggles dark, she had no cues to orient her to up or down. The suit covered her skin, and the earplugs blocked out any outside sound that might have reached her through the tank. She was alone in the void. Until she wasn't.

The VR goggles activated, revealing a plain room around her, marked in a grid on all sides. The technician addressed her.

"The suit will auto-calibrate. Just take a few steps to the wall and back."

She did, unsteadily at first, then more confidently. When Alice reached the wall it felt solid to her touch, the work of the nanofibers in her suit simulating pressure. She turned and repeated the short walk.

"Good," the technician said. "Now, turn around. I'll activate a mirror so you can see what you'll look like in the simulation.

Alice had chosen her college-age self for the fantasy. She was still an attractive woman, but in her early twenties, she had been inarguably hot. Tall, at five foot nine, leggy and fit. Volleyball kept her tight and strong, especially through her ass and thighs. Her breasts were firm and high, just full enough to match the rest of her physique without getting in the way during sports.

Men had lined up.

"Hey," Alice called to whomever was listening, "remind me what's the point of this part?"

Tricia answered. "It's to give you a moment to settle into the experience of being in the simulation. And we like to show people what they look like, too. In a typical Arena experience, the other partner chooses what you look like, so it's sort of a reveal."

"I've got a suggestion, then. This room feels sterile, like, a step down from a medical waiting room. Could you do this part somewhere more welcoming, like a meadow or a beach?"

There was a hushed conversation then Tricia spoke up. "I love you, Alice! That's a great idea. We'll give it a serious look. But for now, the tech says your suit is calibrated. You ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay. The transition might be a bit abrupt. We'll administer the neurotransmitter supplement and drop you in. Remember, you can end the simulation at any time by using the safe word."

The world shifted around her once more. The mirror and the room dimmed, then dimmed yet more until Alice was nearly blind. She swayed for a moment, but then the horizon came into view, and as her eyes adjusted, so did the rest of the scene. She was standing on a wooded trail that sloped down toward a lake already featureless in the dusk light. Cool air caressed her, but in the simulation she was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Alice tucked her hands into her pockets and started toward the lake.

How many times had she fantasized about this evening? Naked and with her fingers at her dripping slit, how often had she woven a different version of events in her mind, one in which the evening went in a rougher direction? What would it feel like for the events to actually unfold that way?

What

will

it feel like?

They were waiting for her by the bonfire, Rachel, Brandon, and Shaun. A few days earlier the camp had been swarming with the kids that flocked there from across the state for coaching in volleyball, swimming, basketball, and track. Saturday afternoon the last of the anxious parents had swept in to carry off their progeny, eager to learn of progress toward scholarships or neighborhood bragging rights. Now it was just the four of them.

"Hey," Shaun said. He peered at her through careless blond locks, the product of hours spent in the pool daily. Like Alice, he wore a heavy shirt, but unbuttoned as he sat before the fire.

"Hey Shaun." Alice sat opposite him.

Rachel gave her an indecipherable stare. The two had established a friendship during instructor orientation, but by late summer it had begun to fray. Now the blonde's expression was closer to a sneer than a smile. "Want a drink?"

Alice leaned forward to take the thermos. Especially when she was with Brandon, Rachel drank, and Alice wasn't surprised when the thermos held more whiskey than cola. She took a polite sip and handed it back.

"Here," Brandon growled, snatching the thermos from Rachel before taking a heavy drink. "You goin' home tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes. Looking forward to a week with my family before heading back to school."

Rachel snorted. "Of course you are."

"You aren't?"

"Not all of us have your perfect life, Alice."

"I never said my life was perfect."

"Let's see," Rachel said. "Parents still together, full ride at Brown, summers in Switzerland or whatever."

"I spent my summer here. With you guys."

Rachel let out an exaggerated sigh. "Last year. Whatever."

For a moment Alice's mind snapped back to the present. She was suspended in salt water, encased in a VR suit, and twenty years removed from her college years. But the simulation was stunningly accurate. The cool evening perfectly fit her memory, as did the pine needles softening the ground, the smoke from the fire, and the tense dynamic. She also felt the stirrings of tension, the product of the neurotransmitters she had been injected with.

She let the simulation swallow her once more. "You have a scholarship."

"Not at Brown!" Rachel shot back.

There didn't seem to be anything more to say so Alice and the others sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the fire. But Rachel was on edge and looked toward Shaun after less than a minute. "You get laid this summer?"

Shaun gave her a

fuck you

look. "Why, you interested?"

"No thanks." Rachel smirked and settled back against Brandon, who put a possessive arm around her. "I'm getting all I can handle."

"Hey, that's cool," Shaun said. He gestured for the thermos, took a pull, and handed it back. "Let me know if I should take a number or something."

"What about you?" Rachel asked, looking at Alice.

It had been at this point in real life that Alice had begun to sense danger. Rachel, spiteful and manipulative, Brandon, drunk and troublesome, and Shaun horny. At the time she had excused herself and returned to the safety of her cabin. But in her fantasy, she always stuck around.

"It's none of your business, Rachel."

"I'm just trying to help," Rachel giggled. "Maybe you should fuck her, Shaun."

The swimmer gave Alice a long look before replying. "Dude, she shot me down."

That part was true. Most of the men at the camp had hit on her, and Shaun was no exception. He was handsome enough and had a body that Alice had caught herself admiring more than once. But she hadn't been in the mood for a summer fling, and certainly not with someone who used the word 'dude' that often.

"You don't ask, dumb fuck, just kiss her."

Shaun gave Alice another hungry look. Brandon had his hands inside Rachel's sweatshirt, pawing her blatantly. Watching must have set off some trigger within Shaun because moments later he circled the fire to flop down beside Alice. He put his arm around her.

"Can we both agree that Rachel is being a bit of a bitch right now?"

Alice found herself smiling. "Yeah, maybe more than just a bit."

"But she's right though," Shaun said, leaning closer, alcohol strong on his breath. "We should fuck."

"Oh, you're funny." Alice lifted Shaun's arm off of her shoulder. "But I'm getting a bit cold. I think I'll head back up."

"Aw shit, I'll warm you up!" Shaun put his arm back around Alice, this time tighter. He pressed his face into her hair, looking for a place to plant his lips. Across from them, Rachel looked on even as Brandon groped her.

"Seriously," Alice said in her best no-means-no voice. "I'm leaving now." She stood, using her athletic frame to push Shaun back. She turned away.

Behind her, Rachel snorted and said, "You're such a pussy, Shaun."

Alice took two steps before she heard the pad of feet on the grass behind her. A hand dug hard into her arm. "Hey, be cool about it," Shaun said. "Stick around a while."

Startled, Alice let Shaun spin her back toward the fire. He shoved her forward before embracing her from behind, hands greedily seeking out her breasts. Fear, and its ally adrenaline, shot through her. "Wha-fuck, no!"

"Yeah," Shaun countered. "C'mon, I know you like me."

"No!" Alice repeated, trying to remember the self-defense course she had taken. She had been the tallest and strongest of the women in the course and had easily passed. But Shaun was far stronger, his hard swimmer's body taut with muscle. Alice landed a few blows with her elbow but Shaun only laughed, and with a wrestling move, threw her to the ground.