Jurassic Feelings. Part I

Message from the author:

Hey folks. This is the first part of a very, very long chapter that is very, very dear to my heart.

I can say about this chapter that it is not only very long but also a crucial part of The MCD story. I had originally planned to release it as a bonus chapter, but while writing, I quickly realized it was important to clarify a few things for my readers.

Simply put, this chapter takes place in the early evening, just before Finn sets out to deal with the "Volleyball Bitches"—first Rania, then Candice, and finally Lynn. For all three of them—Sonya included—this evening and night will prove pivotal in their lives. But first, I’m presenting a very cheesy chapter that moves the Lynchwood family’s story forward.

I will post two parts this week and release the whole chapter tomorrow - after correcting this long mess of a beautiful chapter - on my Ko-Fi.

The long version of why I haven't written for so long, why I struggled so much, and why this chapter affected me more deeply than any previous one comes down to a few (actually simple) factors. First, of course, was the sudden death of Sam Neill. Some of you surely saw my post about *Jurassic World Evolution III* (featuring Finn and Rose as a T-Rex couple). This chapter began as a small homage to Sam Neill and the role he played in my life. It ended yesterday with teary eyes and a Finn Lynchwood who, as a person, felt more like me than ever before.

But the women—Rose, naturally, but surprisingly Jasmine too—also reflect some of the frustration I’ve been grappling with as an author since returning from the USA back in April (!!!). It’s about finding my place in the "battle of the sexes," my views on women's roles in this world, and—above all—how I handle writing a character who is an adult, mature woman capable of making her own decisions (specifically one active on OnlyFans), while keeping her actions worlds apart from the "evil" deeds I’m convinced such women actually commit in real life—a gap as vast as the time separating us humans from the dinosaurs. The question of whether I’m doing something good for my readers by showing them characters who—in the real world—inflict such great social suffering on men, yet appear as warm-hearted, gentle beings in my stories, is something that weighs heavily on my mind. In short, I wasn't sure if I was a villain or simply a man trying to learn how to handle incredible beauty. Hmm. I’m still not sure.

One thing is certain: I stand by my principle that men must be allowed to live out their sexuality without having to pay for it—or, what is far, far worse, being punished for that sexuality simply because no money changed hands.

Over the time I’ve been writing The MCD, a lot of bad things have happened in my life as an author—things I try to keep separate from my real life. I often succeed. However, it is clear to me that many aspects of male sexuality—especially when compared to female sexuality—are deeply unfair, and The MCD is one way for me to process some of those thoughts. Perhaps that’s precisely why I enjoy having my female characters act so irrationally—in ways that might not typically suit a novel. I have no idea if it actually works.

Anyway, this chapter is very important to me personally, and I thank you for giving me the chance to share some of these thoughts publicly.

Of course, I’ve also included a plot-relevant element that I had originally intended to save for later. So, something very important is going to happen in this chapter—right at the end. To those willing to wait: I applaud your patience. To those who aren't: Spoilers at the end message!

Now, please enjoy.

Chapter 89. Part I.

“Finn? Finn, are you there?” My head snaps up—so quickly that Mom sits up in bed, agitated, and turns her head toward the door.

“I’m here,” I call out. “In the bedroom.” My voice turns serious and urgent.

Jasmine hasn’t used my name in weeks. Not even during sex or when we share a loving kiss. It’s always 'hubby,' 'husband,' 'sir,' or whatever sweet, submissive nickname she has for me. The fact that she’s using my name now sets off alarm bells in my head.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I ask before the door even opens. When I see the look on her face, I relax while, at the same moment, my stomach knots with tension.

She isn’t afraid, I realize. She’s okay. But at the same time, she looks deeply hurt and shaken. Our eyes meet across the room. Michelle is sitting naked beside me—her neck covered in hickeys, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of passion—as my fingers slide out of her and I turn toward my wifey. Jasmine’s eyes are dark and clouded with pain, her body is tense, yet her face softens tenderly when she sees me.

“Honey?” I quickly sit up, then stand and kiss Mom on the forehead as I walk toward Jasmine in just my boxers. Mom follows, moving with a newfound grace, and looks up at me excitedly as she crawls over to my side.

“Honey, I… I’m so sorry, but…” I wrap my arms around my beloved big sister—my housewife, the woman of my life—holding her tight and letting her feel my love. Jasmine hugs me back and snuggles close. She is warm and soft, and—as always since her transformation—I feel happy just being with her, with this wonderful, patient, understanding, and reserved woman. But I also sense the worry in her tense body. Something is wrong.

"Tell me," I say calmly, rubbing her back with gentle motions. "I want to hear it."

"Sam Neil is dead," she says, and a part of my world goes dark at those words. "He died of cancer."

My little baby sis’s bell-like laughter fades when Jasmine walks into the room. We’re in the middle of doing our makeup—smoky eyes and eyeliner, just the way my best bro likes it—and Tammy is overjoyed to be doing something with her Auntie Rose.

"What’s wrong, Jasmine?" I ask when I see the devastated look on my big sister’s face, trying to keep my sense of humor even though she seems completely shattered. Tammy, too, senses the chill creeping into the room and reaches for my hand, seeking protection. We’re kneeling on the floor, surrounded by makeup, sexy dresses, and our smartphones. None of that matters anymore once I realize something is amiss. I try to lighten the mood with a joke. "Did someone die?"

"Where is he now?" I ask a minute later. Tammy, Jasmine, and I are huddled together in the bathroom. While Tammy stands awkwardly against the wall, looking a bit intimidated, Jasmine and I work like a well-oiled team in front of the big mirror, getting ourselves presentable for our man. My face is smudged with makeup, and Jasmine is wearing her housework "uniform."

"Puppy is with him," Jasmine assures me, her breasts jiggling as she puts on a clean, normal shirt. “He’s not alone. The two of them are in the living room.”

“I want to go to Daddy,” we hear Tammy whimper. It speaks to the bond we’ve newly forged as sisters that we turn around in unison. Between the two of us—one a housewife, the other a girlfriend—we tend to little Tammy.

“That’s a wonderful idea, sweetie,” Jasmine says warmly, glancing at me inquiringly. I nod in agreement and pat my 'niece’s' cheek.

“Go to Daddy,” I encourage her. “He needs you now. Mommy and I will come too, but we need to get ready first, okay?” Tammy nods shyly.

“What happened?” she asks—a fair question. It’s a question I can’t answer, and that hurts more than I ever imagined it would.

“There was a man your daddy really liked,” Jasmine says, surprising me with her knowledge of a film franchise—one I’m aware of (after all, who in the world doesn’t know Jurassic Park?) but have never actually engaged with myself. “He died yesterday, and we need to be there for him now. Can you do that?” she asks in a way only a truly loving mother can. Tammy considers this seriously. Then she nods. Without another word, she turns and hurries downstairs to Finn. I turn to my sister.

“What do you know about…” Jasmine’s face crumples as if she’s about to cry, and I feel that same tightness in my own face.

“Back then… in the past… he always wanted permission to watch the movie whenever it aired on TV… We… Mom and I… we never allowed it, but…” I take her hand and look directly at her, not through the large bathroom mirror. Jasmine meets my gaze.

“You’ve seen it, right?” She nods. Then she starts to cry. “Oh no, no, no,” I say quickly, cupping her face. “It’s not about us right now! Calm down,” I say, even as tears stream down my own cheeks. “Shit.”

“It’s one of his favorite movies, and Sam Neill… I think he looks up to him. And I…” I wrap my arms around my sister, and we comfort each other. It doesn’t take long, we both want to get back to our men.

“Hey,” I say, nudging her shoulder like the bratty little sister I am. “It’s good we’re here right now. And it’s damn good you’ve seen the movie,” I grin. Jasmine looks at me questioningly. “Because, for the love of God, I don’t know shit about dinosaurs.” We both grin. Then we chuckle.

Then we fix our makeup and make ourselves look as good as possible for our man, while Jasmine gives me a rough idea of ​​the one part of my brother’s world I know nothing about.

“Hmm… Daddy?” I stand in the doorway to the living room and see him sitting at the dining table next to our puppy… doing nothing.

Puppy-Mom has rested her head on his thigh and is whining softly while he idly plays with her pigtails and just stares at his big, new phone thingy. I’ve never seen him like this before. The dim light in the living room makes his face look pale and sickly in the glow of the display he’s staring at in disbelief.

“I thought he’d beaten it,” I hear him murmur while puppy mom nestles her head into his lap, looking up at him with big, wet eyes. “He said he was doing okay.” My fingers fidget, and the fine hairs on my arms stand on end as I watch him.

Then my eyes well up, and I feel the pressure of the tears as I realize he used to be like this a lot. Back when I was a bad little girl.

“Daddy…” I sniffle, feeling my cheeks grow wet. This time he hears me, lowers his phone, and his face looks a little warmer once that nasty light from the screen is gone.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he says, smiling at me. “How’s my little angel doing?”

He looks at me, smiles… and I start to cry. Bitterly. Because I recognize that look in his eyes—one I’ve seen so many times before.

Suppressed grief.

Back then, I didn’t care. Today, seeing him like this makes me cry.

“Oh no,” he says with a warm smile, caressing Mom’s head as he turns around on the chair. He stretches out his arms, mum making space for me, and I leap onto him, wrapping my small arms around him. I cry against his chest while he comforts me, and Mom joins us, nestling her head between our warm bodies. I know my real mommy, Jasmine, and Auntie Rose are strong women, but I’m just a little girl—so I cry against his chest while he takes care of Puppy Mom and me. “Don’t be sad, Princess,” he says, kissing the top of my head while I rest against him

“But you’re sad, Daddy,” I sniffle into his chest, letting all my emotions pour out. I love him so much for this, but this time I wish I could make him as happy and free as he makes me. "You’re sad, and I want to help you. But I don’t know how, and that makes me sad too!" I nestle my head against him, then feel his strong arms wrap around me. The next thing I know, I’m sitting on his lap, face-to-face, while Puppy moves beside us so she can look up at us.

"You want to help me?" he asks, and I see a glimmer of love and sadness in his eyes. Tears well up, but I hold them back so I can be free. I weep bitterly. I love him so much. So I nod, and he smiles—a pained smile that radiates love. "Then kiss me, okay, Angel?" And I do.

"Ready," I whisper, looking at Jasmine.

We’re both a little nervous, she probably more than me, given her nibling on her lower lip, but seeing my sister like this—dressed almost normally, looking classy just like in the old days, just like me—makes me feel good.

Taking our time was the right thing to do. But we both know—and are looking forward to it with all our hearts—that when we step through that door now, we belong solely to him.

"As long as he wants," Jasmine whispers back, understanding me without words. Then she takes my hand, and I feel the soft fabric of her elegant dress—a contrast to the dark plaid shirt and standard jeans I’ve chosen to wear. We both take a deep breath. We are navigating this delicate situation for the first time—excited, yet completely sure of what we’re doing. Together, we walk into the living room.

Message from the author:

So, a short start in the chapter, I know. The next parts will be longer. like I said, I will post two parts a week and tomorrow the whole thing will be online at my Ko-Fi.

I hope the pictires are working. I try out a new site. Speaking of backlashes and stabbings in the back from the world. Don't know how I can manage to correct all of my pictures in the story.

The spoilers I will post in the comments. That's a great feature of you ask me. Great work, folks of CHYOA!

And I will rework my character sheets and pictures in the next few days. Better pictures and not locked anymore. Wish me luck. :(

Thank you so much for reading and have a great week.

Finn 0815