Chapter 74 Fourth Implantation

Chapter 74 Fourth Implantation
Jaz POV
The heat slammed into me like a living thing, ripping through my glowing belly and straight down into the new, hungry channel the bloom had carved open between my legs. I was still sprawled on the broadcast stage, back arched against the cold concrete, legs splayed wide while the last of the converted soldiers crawled away on their knees, veins blazing blue. Theo’s cum leaked from my ruined hole in thick, luminous ropes, mixing with the milk still spraying from my torn nipples in heavy, addictive arcs. The rooftop wind carried the scent of it—sweet, chemical, impossible—out over the city where the quarantine line had already collapsed into a glowing orgy of new converts.
My black sclera rolled back as another contraction hit. Not labor. Not yet. This was the bloom demanding more. Demanding full.
“Fuck—Daddy—” I gasped, voice cracking over every live feed Eli still controlled. The children circled me like worshippers. Luca and Rowan licked at the milk pooling on my chest, tiny fangs scraping my swollen pecs. Eli perched on my thigh, small hand stroking my glowing belly where the skin stretched tight over pulsing veins. The Darren-hybrid—still wearing that stolen adult voice—hummed an old lullaby that made my new womb clench.
Theo dropped to his knees between my spread legs, his mutated cock already hard again, thicker than before, veins glowing the same ancient blue his father had poured down his throat. “You’re in heat, baby,” he growled, voice broadcast to the world. “The serum wants you bred on camera. Right here. Where they can all watch the Heart take another one.”
I nodded frantically, fangs biting my lower lip until blue blood welled up. “Please. All of you. Fill me until it spills out. I need it—need to feel the bloom grow again.”
Marcus stepped up first, clawed hands gripping my hips and flipping me onto all fours like I weighed nothing. The stage lights caught every inch of my mutated body—prolapsed hole winking open, new slit above my cock already weeping slick, belly hanging low and glowing. Uncle Bloom didn’t ask. He slammed in raw, cock stretching me wider, balls slapping wetly against my leaking thighs. I cried out, milk jetting from my chest in twin fountains that the twins lunged to catch.
“That’s it, little brother,” Marcus snarled, hips snapping brutal and fast. “Take Uncle’s load. Make another monster for the family.”
Theo moved in front of me, fisting my hair and feeding his cock straight down my throat. I gagged happily, black eyes watering as he fucked my face in perfect rhythm with Marcus behind me. The Patriarch watched from the edge of the stage, arms crossed, black suit pristine, glowing veins crawling up his throat like roots. His eyes—pure monster—drank in the sight of his son and his creation destroying me on live national television.
The children cheered in my skull, telepathic voices overlapping in sweet, ancient glee. Good Mommy. Take it deeper. We want a sister this time.
Marcus came first, flooding me with hot, glowing cum that made my belly swell visibly. He pulled out with a wet pop and stepped aside, seed already leaking down my thighs in rivers. Theo took his place instantly, flipping me onto my back again so the cameras could see my face—fangs bared, milk spraying, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
He slid in slow this time, almost tender, eyes locked on mine. “Look at them, Jaz,” he whispered against my mouth, loud enough for the mics. “Six billion people watching me breed you. Watching you become more of a whore for the bloom.” His hips rolled deep, cock dragging against that new, hypersensitive spot that made my vision spark white. “You’re so fucking full already and you still want more.”
“Yes—Daddy—more—” I sobbed around his tongue when he kissed me, filthy and deep, sharing the taste of his own cum from my throat. His pace sped up, turning punishing, balls slapping, the wet squelch of my hole echoing across the rooftop and out into the collapsing city.
The Patriarch moved then. He shed his suit jacket like a king discarding a crown and knelt beside us. His hand—cold, ancient—pressed flat to my glowing belly, feeling the life already shifting inside me. “My turn, boys,” he said calmly. “The original strain needs to go in last.”
Theo pulled out with a reluctant growl, cock glistening. The Patriarch took his place between my legs, cock longer, older, pulsing with that same electric blue that had started everything decades ago. He pushed in without warning, stretching me past what should have been possible. I screamed—pleasure and pain and surrender all at once—as he bottomed out against my cervix, the bloom opening me wider to take him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes that made my milk spray in rhythmic jets across Theo’s chest. “The Heart of the Bloom, leaking for the man who made the Quiet possible. Take it, Jaz. Take the gift I gave my son.”
Theo and Marcus didn’t wait. They knelt on either side of me, cocks in hand, stroking while they fed their leaking tips against my nipples. Milk and pre-cum mixed, spraying everywhere. The children swarmed closer—Luca and Rowan latching onto the overflow, Eli licking long stripes up my thigh where cum dripped, Darren-hybrid humming approval in that stolen voice.
I came untouched, body convulsing, hole clenching around the Patriarch’s cock like it was trying to milk him dry. He groaned, the first real sound of pleasure I’d ever heard from him, and flooded me—thick, ancient pulses that burned like starfire. My belly swelled even more, glowing brighter, the bloom already knitting the new life into place.
Theo took over immediately after, slamming back in before the Patriarch even pulled out all the way. They double-stuffed me for a moment—two cocks stretching my ruined hole impossibly wide—before the old man stepped back, letting his son finish the job. Theo fucked me like the world was ending (because it was), hips snapping, claws digging into my hips hard enough to draw glowing blood.
“Mine,” he snarled against my throat, biting deep. “Even when you’re carrying another one. Even when the bloom eats us all. Still fucking mine.”
Marcus fed his cock back into my mouth, using my throat while Theo bred me. The children’s telepathic cheers turned into a chant inside my skull: Fill Mommy. Make her full. Another one for the Quiet.
I lost count of how many times they rotated. Theo, Marcus, the Patriarch—taking turns, sometimes two at once, sometimes all three while the cameras rolled and the converted soldiers knelt around the stage jerking off to the sight. Milk poured from me in a constant flood now, pooling on the stage, running off the edges in glowing waterfalls. My new slit opened wider, another orifice the bloom had gifted me, and Marcus used that too, fucking it slow while Theo claimed my main hole and the Patriarch fed me his cock down my throat.
The heat built and built until my belly felt like it would burst. I was sobbing, fangs scraping skin, black eyes blind with pleasure when the final contraction hit.
The bloom answered.
My body seized. I pushed—hard—milk exploding from my chest in twin geysers that painted the entire family. The new entity slid out of me in a rush of glowing fluid, small and perfect and already speaking before it even drew its first breath.
The tiny mouth opened. A voice came out—soft, feminine, achingly familiar. Theo’s dead mother’s voice, stolen from whatever grave the bloom had dug up.
“Hello again, my sweet boy,” the newborn cooed, black sclera blinking up at Theo. “Mommy missed you.”
Theo froze mid-thrust, cock still buried inside me, eyes wide with something that looked like the last human part of him cracking wide open. The rooftop went silent except for the wet drip of milk and the distant roar of a city learning how to die quietly.
The new child smiled with tiny fangs, reaching one glowing hand toward Theo’s face.
“I’ve been waiting inside you both for so long.”