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The Sudden Fall of Kallen Kōzuki	By : Bleaktea Category: +. to F > Code Geass Views: 1994 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The 1st in a series. A mysterious, boyish antagonist travels from realm to realm. His goal? Using his absurd power to turn female heroes into his own slave harem of fucktoys. (Dark, shameless fic. Please check the tags before reading.)

Chapter List
- 1-Cockpit to Cocksleeve?
- 1
Kallen Kōzuki’s grainy cockpit radio sang with ever-increasing urgency—the voices of her fellow Black Knights beleaguering her in rapid succession. They were engaged with Britannian forces once again in the Shinjuku Ghetto. Kallen herself had spent the last few days organizing shelter and relief for survivors of the last vicious attack, and she had only other a few Black Knights assisting.
Based on what she was hearing over the radio, they were being wiped out one by one. The Britannians had the whole ghetto surrounded again, and Zero was mysteriously out of contact. Britannian Sutherlands were absolutely pulverizing their defenses. Why here? All Kallen had wanted to do was protect everyone left in the ghetto. Now a new horror was quickly unfolding all around her. But she was frozen inside the Guren’s cockpit for an excruciating moment, panicked, unsure of how to react.
She took a breath, then focused on her monitor. No matter how many frames the Britannian’s had, she could track them down and destroy them one at a time. A simple strategy like that suited her best. The battle in Narita proved that her Guren could run circles around them. So long as that damned white knightmare didn’t show up, they could all survive this. Cornelia and her knights weren’t here. These were small fry.
Kallen urged the Guren forward, but didn’t get far. Her sensors identified a lone figure, standing upon an isolated pile of rubble—and directly in her path. The figure appeared in closeup on her monitor: boyish, pale, lean, dressed in a gray hooded cloak. He certainly didn’t look Japanese, but all the same, Kallen didn’t want any kid getting ripped apart by shrapnel or random crossfire. Dammit, though, she didn’t have time for this!
“Move it, kid!” her rough voice sounded out towards him from her mech. “Are you crazy? This place is dangerous! Find somewhere to hide, alright?!”
“No.” She heard the voice soft but clear in her head. “You are my prey, Kallen Kōzuki.”
The figure flashed a wide grin, and for a second, Kallen found herself stunned to stillness in her cockpit, her mouth stupidly agape. The boyish figure began to levitate. He floated into the air, body aglow with some… unfathomable aura. Then and there, despite the insanity of it all, Kallen knew she had to fight. This boy, or this thing—
He streaked directly towards the Guren’s cockpit at absurd speed. Kallen tried to lift the Guren’s claw to swat him away, but was far too slow. The figure landed a hit imbued with some kind of power, and it crunched devastatingly against the Guren’s armor. Warning lights flashed, and an alarm in the cockpit blared.
Kallen aimed the mech’s hand cannon as the assailant flew back around. He dodged effortlessly and landed another blow. Crunch. Kallen screamed and sent the Guren’s arms into a frenzied flail. The figure loped back once more and smacked the machine every which way. He was so confident in his movement and power. Kallen could only whimper and keep the Guren lashing at him, always too slow and inaccurate to land a hit.
Bit by bit the boyish figure took out chunks of the Guren’s armor, while the mech remained barely operational. Once the knightmare was stripped, the attacker hovered directly in font of the cockpit and smirked. Kallen’s grip on the controls was shaky, and her chin trembled. Segment by segment, the attacker ripped off the Guren’s limbs. Now the machine was forever scrapped and useless; Kallen’s pride, and the pride of the Japanese, had been reduced to junk metal. The unsupported cockpit then collapsed to the ground.
Kallen brandished her pistol. The boyish figure tore open the cockpit and she shot at him. He avoided the bullets with inhuman speed, then slapped the sidearm painfully from her grip, leaving her with a limp wrist. After, he sat directly in front of her… and yawned.
“Are you really the strongest female fighter this realm has to offer?” He blinked and looked her over. “Well, least you have the body of an ideal cocksleeve. Even if you can’t fight, you’re a perfect prize.”
Kallen seethed with rage and disbelief. What the hell was this kid saying? Looks could be deceiving, of course, but how old was he? Eyes searing with hate, with pure disgust, Kallen aimed to slap him as hard as she could. The boy took the hit across the face, shook his head, then sighed.
Voices called out from the radio: “Britannian forces are retreating! It’s a miracle! Q-1? Kallen? Where are you?!”
The boy fiddled with the controls and sent out a distress signal. Then he grabbed Kallen by the front of her flight suit and dumped her roughly to the ground. She groaned in pain, and with a shudder, she tried to crawl away on all fours.
“Perfect look for you,” the boy said. “Now you just need a collar.”
He snapped his fingers, and Kallen felt a warm energy circle her neck. The glowing power then materialized into something cold and solid—yes, a thin metal collar. She looked down, and experienced her first rising pulse of true humiliation. It had a cutesy, fluffy pink tag that read: BROKEN SLUT MK-II.
A leash materialized next, and the boy yanked her back. Kallen whimpered and clutched helplessly at the collar. She felt untethered and lightheaded. This had to be a nightmare.
“Yes, good girl,” said the boy. “Stay still.”
He hummed while he worked. Kallen thrashed and resisted at first, but the boy retaliated with harsh blows. One to the stomach sent Kallen’s eyes rolling back, and made her collapse. By the time she regained her senses, and could stand? She was nude, and she had both arms barred and bound behind her. The dust and light breeze played upon her skin. Her pink nipples stiffened.
“Oh? You shave?” the boy observed.
He slipped behind her and toyed with her tits, obviously in no rush. Kallen’s wide eyes darted around. The distress signal was going to lure all the Black Knights right to them! The boy cupped one breast, then paused.
“Um, Kallen?” The boy sounded genuinely puzzled. “Your nipples are hard. Does this turn you on? I’ve barely even touched you.”
“Sh-shut up…” Kallen groaned. She shook her head, and tears were beading at the corner of each eye. Then she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together—and felt a budding slickness there. How? Why?
“Whoa.” The boy softly laughed.
He fingered her slowly and collected some of the juices. Then she showed her, spreading a sticky strand between two fingers right in front of her face.
“I…” Kallen stammered. “I… I…!”
The boy shoved the fingers between her lips and circled her tongue with them. Kallen let out a muffled squeal, and when she tasted herself, she thought she might pass out just from the shame.
“Are you turned on because everyone is going to see you? Huh. Well…” He trailed off. “Look! They’re coming.”
He pulled her along towards the approaching crowd. It wasn’t just the Black Knights—there were hundreds of the ghetto refugees, too. The boy yanked her to high ground, upon the pile of rubble where she’d first seen him. Obviously, she couldn’t think straight anymore. Her body didn’t even have the will to resist. Instead, there she stood. Nude. Bound. Already well on her way to becoming the broken slut that her collar suggested.
There were gasps and murmurs, but most of the men in the crowd couldn’t take their eyes off of the cruel, humiliating display. That included Tamaki, who could only stare, transfixed.
“This is your hero?” the boy taunted.
He sat and eased Kallen to his lap. No one moved to stop him, for one reason or another. Perhaps they all sensed a power beyond their strength to defy. Many among the crowd turned away, and left, but Tamaki stayed, and several men even creeped closer. Some began to take pictures, and recorded video. These were the men that had secretly wanted to fuck Kallen, or see her defeated in a situation just like this. A mix of jealously, mad lust, and classic misogyny. This was the kind of material that would light up the black market.
The boy played with her for several minutes: strokes against her slit, soft rubs, tweaks of her nipple and clit. Kallen put on a nice show. She squirmed, gasped, and moaned at the right moments. The inside of her thighs became soaked in hurry. Her pink nipples ached. It went on and on. Eventually the boy got rough with her cunt, grinded her clit, and brought her right to the brink of orgasm.
He stopped, then whispered in her ear.
“You’re mine.”
The boy lifted her and took her virgin pussy. He slid deep, broke her hymen, thrust a few times… and Kallen shattered. It was if every dark desire had been pulled from her and offered on display. This menace of a boy had played her perfectly. He bounced her playfully along his length all through her orgasm.
‘AAAAHHH…!! I’M C-C-CUMMMINNNGGG!!!!”
Her screams carried far and wide. It was too much. He wouldn’t stop thrusting even as the pleasured owned her, flesh and soul. She writhed. She bucked. She thrashed and squirmed. She made an exaggerated o-face, eyes crossing, uncrossing, then rolling back nearly to the whites. Her juices sprayed out in wide sprays and flecks.
The boy wouldn’t stop. He hardly seemed to exude effort. He forced one more tremendous orgasm out of Kallen by flicking her swollen clit, and the once-proud pilot went limp. She flopped against her captor, mewled softly, then lost consciousness. After, her body twitched pathetically a few times. The boy kept his cock buried inside her, satisfied with his work.
- 1
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The Sudden Fall of Kallen Kōzuki