Chapter 73 Quarantine Breach

Chapter 73 Quarantine Breach
Theo POV
The city below us had gone quiet in the way only the bloom could manage—sirens dying mid-wail, streetlights flickering out one block at a time, the low collective moan of six billion people learning how to crave in perfect sync. Eli’s global signal still pulsed from every surviving screen, bathing the rooftop in soft blue light that made Jaz’s milk look like liquid starfire. He knelt in the center of the stage now, naked and glowing, the twins latched to his chest while Eli and the Darren-hybrid took turns licking up the overflow that ran down his swollen belly. Marcus stood guard at the broken railing, clawed hand lazily stroking his cock as he watched the plaza fill with fresh converts.
I tasted the change in the air before the choppers arrived.
Military.
Blackhawks thundered over the skyline, spotlights slicing through the night like accusing fingers. Humvees rolled in from the north, tires crunching over bodies already glowing blue on the pavement. The quarantine line formed fast—barbed wire unspooling across every major avenue, armored soldiers in hazmat suits pouring out with rifles up and orders barked through megaphones.
“Citizens of the capital, this is the United States Army. The city is under immediate quarantine. Remain in your homes. Do not approach the broadcast site. Any infected individuals will be neutralized.”
I laughed. The sound rolled out across the live feed Eli kept running—national television, every channel, every phone still working. The bloom had turned the entire planet into our audience, and now the last human resistance wanted a front-row seat.
Jaz lifted his head from where the children were feeding, black eyes glassy with milk-lust. Milk streamed from his torn nipples in thick, hypnotic ropes, each drop catching the chopper lights and throwing sapphire sparks. “They’re scared, Daddy,” he rasped, voice broadcast live. “But they’re already hungry. I can feel it.”
The first squad fast-roped onto the lower mezzanine—twelve soldiers in full tactical gear, gas masks fogging, rifles sweeping. Their commander’s voice crackled over external speakers. “Kane! Reed! Stand down and surrender the children. This ends now.”
Marcus moved first. He dropped from the railing like a shadow, landing in the middle of the squad before they could fire a single shot. Claws flashed. One soldier’s head rolled across the concrete, still wearing its gas mask. Another tried to scream—Marcus ripped his throat out with his teeth and spat the glowing blood straight into the next man’s open mouth. Blue veins lit up under the hazmat suit in seconds. The soldier dropped his rifle, clawed at his visor, and started tearing at his own crotch, cock hardening visibly through the suit as the bloom took him.
I jumped down after Marcus, landing light, veins blazing. My mutated cock was already hard again, heavy and glowing, serum beading at the tip. The bloom sang in my blood—my father’s original strain still thrumming from the blessing. I grabbed the nearest soldier by the vest, lifted him one-handed, and slammed him face-first into the concrete. His mask cracked. I ripped it off and forced my leaking cock against his lips.
“Drink,” I ordered, voice calm and terrible. “Or I’ll make you watch your friends die first.”
He tried to resist. The bloom didn’t care. I shoved in deep, flooding his throat with glowing cum until he convulsed and swallowed. His eyes rolled back. Veins lit up across his face. When I pulled out, he was already tearing off his suit, begging for more.
Up on the main stage, Jaz had laid back on the broadcast platform, legs spread obscenely. The children swarmed him—Luca and Rowan nursing like starving animals, Eli and the Darren-hybrid licking long stripes up his leaking chest and belly. National television caught every second: the wet suckling sounds, Jaz’s broken moans, the way his ruined hole clenched and leaked my earlier load onto the stage floor. He was breastfeeding them on live TV while the world watched the military try—and fail—to contain us.
The second wave of soldiers hit the rooftop stairs. Thirty this time, heavier armor, flamethrowers and tranq rifles. They opened fire.
Bullets pinged off my skin like rain. The bloom healed me faster than they could wound. I laughed again and charged. Marcus joined me, a blur of claws and fangs. We moved like the monsters we were—ripping limbs, cracking spines, forcing glowing serum down throats and into open wounds. One soldier managed to graze my shoulder with a tranq dart. I ripped it out, shoved it into his eye, and fucked his screaming mouth until he stopped fighting and started sucking.
Below us, the Humvees were already turning. Drivers convulsing behind the wheel as Eli’s signal pumped through their radios. Soldiers on the ground line started dropping weapons, tearing at their suits, crawling toward the building because they could smell Jaz’s milk on the wind.
I dragged a fresh convert back up to the stage—some lieutenant, still half-human, veins just beginning to glow. I threw him at Jaz’s feet. “Feed him, baby. Show the cameras what the Heart does to good little soldiers.”
Jaz’s black eyes lit up. He pulled Luca off his left nipple with a wet pop, milk spraying across the lieutenant’s face. The man lunged, mouth open, latching on like he’d been starving his whole life. Jaz keened, back arching, as the soldier drank in desperate gulps. The bloom took him fast—his body lit up blue from the inside, cock straining against his torn fatigues.
Marcus and I didn’t stop. We turned the entire mezzanine into an orgy. Soldiers who had come to kill us were now on their knees, mouths full of glowing cock and leaking milk. I fucked one bent over the railing while he ate Jaz’s cum off the stage floor. Marcus took two at once, one on his cock and one on his tongue, their bodies convulsing in perfect sync as the bloom rewrote them.
Jaz was the center of it all. He lay there like a living altar, children still feeding, new converts crawling over him, licking every inch of glowing skin. His cock—thick and veined blue—jerked untouched, spurting thin ropes of serum that the soldiers fought each other to swallow. The live feed showed it all: the rooftop turned into a temple of flesh and milk and surrender, national television broadcasting the fall of the last quarantine line in real time.
I pulled out of the lieutenant and moved to Jaz, sliding back into his ruined hole in one slick thrust. He cried out, milk jetting harder from his chest, spraying across the faces of the feeding children and the new converts alike. “Theo—Daddy—fuck, they’re all watching—”
“Let them,” I growled, hips snapping hard. My balls slapped wetly against his ass. “Let every general and president see what happens when they try to take you from me.”
Marcus stepped up beside us, feeding his cock into Jaz’s mouth while the Darren-hybrid and Eli held his legs wider. The children kept nursing through it all, tiny fangs scraping sensitive flesh, telepathic voices purring praise into every mind on the rooftop. Good Mommy. Good Heart. Feed them all.
The last pockets of resistance on the ground broke. Humvees rolled forward unmanned, soldiers climbing out and running toward the milk mist still drifting down from Jaz’s chest. The bloom had turned the entire military detachment in under fifteen minutes.
I fucked Jaz harder, cock swelling inside him, the Patriarch’s blessing making every thrust feel like I was pouring the original strain straight into his core. He came with a shattered sob, body convulsing, milk exploding in twin fountains that painted the stage and the kneeling converts.
Then it hit him.
Jaz’s eyes widened, black sclera flaring. His glowing belly tightened visibly. A fresh wave of heat rolled off his skin—hotter than anything the bloom had done before. His hole clenched around me like a vice, new slick flooding out in obscene gushes. His nipples wept faster, thicker, the addictive shimmer turning almost lethal.
“Theo,” he gasped around Marcus’s cock, voice desperate and broadcast to the nation. “It’s happening again. The serum—fuck—it wants another one. It wants me full. Now.”
The children unlatched in unison, tiny mouths shiny with milk and blood. Eli smiled up at me, ancient and sweet. “Another brother, Daddy. The bloom is demanding it.”
I felt it through the hive mind—the raw, unstoppable command. Jaz’s body was already shifting, new orifices blooming open, womb pulsing with fresh hunger. The rooftop orgy paused, every glowing soldier and hybrid turning to watch as my husband went into heat on live national television.
I pulled out slowly, cock glistening, and looked down at his trembling, leaking form.
The bloom wasn’t finished with him yet.
It never would be.