New chapter, it's just been finished and is dedicated to ady- ell, who as her cyber self, has kept me company while I completed this chapter. Although, she did abandon me minutes later! I think I'll forgive her just this once, but don't do it again, Yank! This is also dedicated to ady-ell's mum, who has now joined me in cyber space.

I've actually really missed writing and updating this story. I'm also so close to stumbling on to the beginning of the end, I just can't quite believe it.

Apart from one review that pissed me off and sparked a mini war of words between me and another user, the reviews have been positive, and that I thank you for.

Also the usual thanks to those that have reviewed since I last updated; comic, vicster's, alex, dancinqt21, pepper, princes, The reserved reader, Kirawolf, asd, raven and anglophile.

This chapter is probably what you would call a filler, and yes, I rambled ;)

I Am The Walrus

I haven't thought about slipping out of my clothes, lying on a bed, the backseat of the car, a sidewalk, a park bench, underneath the bones of the T-Rex in the lobby or in the security guards office and partaking in a little horizontal mambo with Logan for all of seven minutes… Make that eight minutes and ten seconds, eleven seconds, twelve seconds, thirteen seconds…

"Marie, look at this!"

Joey's excited voice snaps me out of my naughty thoughts, and I nudge Logan in the side. He's been his usual moody self and has growled at no less then five people in the last ten minutes. Three of them were museum curators telling me and Joey not to touch the exhibits, it's not like I didn't spot the ten foot signs with their bold lettering. I just like to touch, squeeze and stroke every object with my hands… I think it's a horny girl thing.

Another problem we encountered was a particularly stupid woman lecturing him for lighting a cigar as we strolled through the left atrium of a human heart (Yes, this museum has everything except an enormous walk-though penis with dancing sperm and Wolverine as their guest star )

I guess if a lady who was the double of The Michelin Man came strolling up to you, waved her chubby finger in you face and plucked a cigar from your lips, you'd growl too. I'm not exaggerating, she really did look like The Michelin Man's twin. I blame the layers of white clothing she had squeezed her rolls of fat and monstrous monstrosity of an ass into. The colour white is always hard to pull off fashion wise, especially when you resemble a one thousand pound partially melted marshmallow.

Then there was the little girl that dropped her ice cream cone on Logan's foot. He growled, she cried, Joey asked if he could have an ice cream, and I had to spend the best part of twenty minutes explaining to the girl's parents why they shouldn't call security.

That's why Logan's giving me the silent treatment; I told them that I was his carer and this was his first daytrip out of the psychiatric hospital in months.

Personally I thought it was amusing, he seemed to disagree and yes, he growled. Boy, did he growl. At one point I was sure he had swallowed a fucking Rottweiler while I wasn't looking. It would be just like him to eat an animal out of protest because I've dragged his ass to a museum.

I skip over to Joey's side (It's not my fault if all the exhibits make me slightly giddy) and glance at the life sized model of a Saber-toothed tiger he appears to be delighted by. Kids really are strangle little creatures, aren't they?

"Wow, look at it's teeth." I utter in awe, tracing a finger down a canine and whistling.

Joey gazes up at me with an enormous toothy grin. "They're more like fangs." He announces his hands twitching excitedly. "They lived ten thousand years ago and attacked other animals by pinning them to the ground just like we do in combat class."

I read the information board for myself and grimace. "Oh, I hope you don't bite your partners jugular vein too. Now, that's nasty and those poor deer."

"No, we're not allowed to aim for the windpipe."

That comment is exactly why we're here. Joey needs to know there's a life outside of the mansion and he's only seven for Christ sake. Seven year olds shouldn't be discussing topics with that degree of seriousness. "Have you touched him yet?" I ask him mischievously.

He shakes his head and wrinkles his brow. "How do you know it's a him?"

"Have you seen it's face? He's ugly and only males are that ugly."

Joey giggles and playfully tugs at my arm. "No they're not!" He shrieks with laughter when I tickle him under his arms. "Girls are the ugly ones. "

"You won't be saying that in another seven years." I whisper in his ear and pat the Saber-Toothed tiger on the head. "Do you know what he feels like?"

My little friend pats the model too and jumps back after receiving a warning look from a member of security. How do they expect a kid to learn if they can't touch anything? What kind of damn museum is this anyway? "He's feels like my mom's face did before she started shaving." Joey replies solemnly, the smile vanishing from his face. "Can I go look over there?"

"Sure. I'll just be over there with Logan."

That was the first time he's ever brought the subject of his family up with me. I mean, I know he has a family. Everybody has a family, even Perez Hilton has one and let me tell you, if Perez was related to me, I would be too ashamed to ever bring him up. Maybe I'm worrying over nothing, His situation could be completely different from mine.

I shuffle over to Logan's side and sit beside him. He doesn't mutter a word, the grumpy bastard. So I stretch my legs out in front of me and start to hum. Watching a dozen or so people walk by, I scoot closer to him and attempt to spot what's caught his undivided attention. He's glaring straight ahead, eyeballing the Saber-toothed tiger, his lips in a drawn out frown.

Ah.

Oh.

Right.

Well at least it isn't a scantily clad slut. This I can deal with… I think. Um, I guess a hand job is out of the question, but there are other ways to comfort him.

"You know, I picked fruit once." I say, my voice low and flat, taking his hand in mine. "It was the summer from hell. Actually that was the year from hell, my mutation manifested not so long after. I suppose that might have something to do with why I find fruit a real turn off now." He's still silent and stony faced, the noise of the crowd buzzing away in the background. "But…" I lean closer, my lips sweeping over his ear. "I'll always have a place in my heart for bananas and wild monkey sex."

Before you ask, no I have no idea what made me say that. It seems to have done the trick though, Logan's eyes are skimming my face, and not the Saber-Toothed tiger. "Anyone ever told you you're nuts?" He responds, his lips twitching.

I pretend to ponder on that and squeeze his hand. "Actually, I think you're the first."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?

He snorts, unclenching my sweaty hand from his and stretches his arms high above his head.

Have his biceps always been that large? Logan really does have hairy pits, there's a mole under there too. Has that mole always been there? I've never noticed it before, and I've spent months studying every inch of his body.

Then again, I wouldn't have known I had a dimple on my left buttock if Bobby hadn't have pointed it out. Ugh, Bobby… I think I just threw up in my mouth slightly. He used to call me his little dimple and splutter "I'm the man! I'm the God damn man!" when he rocked himself into an orgasm, or chocked the thawing chicken.

I begin to blush at my memories of that dark, dark time and how he accidentally iced his ding-dong once. We both cried, him in horror and me in laughter. Oh, I guess each relationship has it's highs and lows. Bobby's 'whoopsie' with his newly frozen popsicle being the highlight of the entire four years, of course.

"Logan, put your arms down." I order, casting a threatening look at a goggle-eyed lady with her tongue hanging out. "People are going to think you're one of the exhibits."

My eyes tell her to move along, my ass scoots closer to Logan and I'm pretty sure that I just growled. I suppose that's all in a days work when the lug head here feels the need to flex his…

Seriously, were his biceps always that size? Has he been guzzling down steroids at an alarming rate, while bench pressing Kanye West's ego, keeping to a strict diet of protein drinks and steamed fish, as he effectively avoids all brands of beer, whiskey and Pina Colada's?

Yes, Logan is a fan of Pina Colada's, without straws, paper umbrellas and anything else too fussy, bright, fun, sparkly, or 'girlie'. I just wish that disgust would spill over and drown the passion for those girlie magazines he hides in his locker.

"Move any closer, Darlin', and you'll be sitting in my lap." Logan grunts, his eyes betraying his interest in that tramp.

Oh, and she's not wearing a bra, how very European of her. "And keep staring at her, and I'll snap your corn dog in half, then feed it to the pigeons outside." Logan merely bows that magical, majestic eyebrow of his, smirks at me and carries on regardless. "Are you telling me, that's the first pair of sagging rib-bumpers you've ever seen?"

"Nope. I get to see yours, don't I?"

I gasp, and shove him so hard, he almost falls off the bench. The saggy stick with the fully stacked top shelf gawks at us both, a member of the Gestapo (Or security, as the normal people call them) walks over and asks us to calm down, and Logan groans at the annoyance of it all.

Standing up, I brush off his attempt at an apology, which consists of a lazy eye roll and a wink. That does it, I'm going to show him. The arrogant, perverted, muscle bound, hairy-assed prick.

"Hey, you!" I cry, waving my hand in the face of Mr. I-Am-An-Animal-In-The-Sack-Because-I-Sweat-Like-A-Pig-And-Eat-Like-One-Too-Judging-By-The-Size-Of-My-Stomach-Neck-And-My-Wobbly- Bobbly-Chin-Fat. "Seeing as you have such an important job, and are seen as a Demigod in this museum, I'd like to ask you a very important question."

The security guard (See, I can be normal) smiles, nods his head and says, "Sure, what can I do for you, miss?"

I remove my denim jacket, throw it at a thunderstruck Logan, and puff out my chest. "Are these saggy? You see, I've been thinking about surgery and I thought I'd better start with these puppies first."

The man gulps and looks me up, down, and settles on my Sex-Orbs-Of-Love. "Yeah, they're very shapely and…"

'Snikt'

"Logan, don't even think about it!" I screech, pulling him back as he lunges at the security guard. The poor man, who happens to be the last line of defence in the case of an alien attack at the museum, just stumbles back and holds his arms up to protect his podgy face.

"What is your problem? You were looking at that saggy slut!" I point at the woman in particular with a sneer, digging my thoroughly bitten finger nails into his bare arm. "If you'd kept your fucking jacket on, and broadened your style, so you wore more then just a vest…"

"This ain't my fault." Logan snaps back, the glint of his canines causing me to shield my eyes. Somebody has certainly been flossing and investing their time in perfecting their dental hygiene. "You were flashing your mounds at some fat fucker!"

The fat fucker in question, clears his throat and taps his enormous clown feet in quick succession. "I'm going to have to ask you both to leave the premises."

"Oh, great. Good going, Logan."

"This ain't my damn fault!"

"You need to both leave now, or I'm going to call the cops."

Logan glares, growls and my God, he's gorgeous. I only blush, snap my mouth shut and look for any sign of Joey. "We did bring a little boy with us, didn't we?" I mutter my question to a pair of scowling men, a saggy slut and a number of nosey passers-by.

"This place really needs a God damn bar." Is the reply I receive, and I couldn't agree more, but that's beside the point. We've been thrown out of the museum for our behaviour, Logan thinks very little of my melons and Joey has done a runner, wandered off, or been kidnapped.

"What if he's been kidnapped?" I squeak, beginning to chew my nails out of sheer panic.

"Then he'll be dumped back here before long. Nobody's gonna put up with that little shit for less then a million bucks, a hooker and a hot tub." He sighs, sheathing his claws and yawning to himself. "There a bar around here? One that's cheap and doesn't let women or kids set foot through the door?" Logan asks the crowd, ignoring my look of disgust.

"He's a monster!" The saggy slag shrieks, making me grin from ear to ear. "The beast has claws!"

Yep, I'm with Logan. I wonder if there's a bar around here? One that refuses to serve certified nut-jobs with drooping, floppy, limp, flabby flapdoodles. The type of people that don't have the decency to wear a bra, and save the general population the distasteful scenes that now follow.

"Put a cork in it, and please buy yourself an over shoulder boulder holder for the sake of others around you. One day, you're going to poke someone's eye out with those… Those things!" And with that, I push past Logan, side step Saggy, and avoid the security guard like the plague.

Maybe coming here was a mistake. The last time I was at this stupid museum, we had to leave because of John and his idiotic cock fight over his lighter. Okay, I'm officially embarrassed over my behaviour and I want the ground to swallow me whole, then spit me out in the nearest bar.

"Dammit, Marie, slow your ass down."

Where can Joey be? Does he really enjoy worrying me like this? I really am going to kill him. Sure, I can understand him not wanting to be around Logan, but me? What's the matter with me?

I'm going to turn left, walk this way and hopefully lose Logan in the crowds. Let me think, if I was a seven year old boy in a museum, where would I be?

I root around in my pocket in search of a map, and feel a pair of strong arms snake around my waist. "You know I was jokin', right? Your jugs don't sag."

"Just do me a favour and have a sniff around for Joey's scent. He's probably hungry and there's a Big Mac meal with my name on it."

He huffs and peers over my shoulder, while I do my best impression of a worried mother, and not a horny, good for nothing, strumpet with sex on the brain. "You're still pissed at me." He grumbles, sounding noticeably surprised that I didn't immediately fall into his arms and swoon.

I shake his arms off me, and snatch my jacket from him. "You'll be lucky if you ever see my lung protectors again." I reply, attempting to keep the chill from my voice. As usual, I completely fail and yet, I'm not at all depressed by the sentiment. I've seen Logan naked, in all his glory, completely removed of all clothing… Would a condom be considered as a piece of clothing? People do call them raincoats, or am I just rambling away in my head because I don't want to be having this conversation?

"What's your problem?" Logan demands, stopping me before I even have a chance at taking a step in my chosen direction. I really wish he wouldn't grab hold of my arm like that. "It ain't your time of the month." He continues, trying to elaborate and not the least bit bothered about sparing my blushes.

At least he didn't crouch on all fours and sniff my crotch. Now that would have been embarrassing.

"I don't want to talk about it." I state as calmly and rationally as one woman can, in spite of all that's happened. "The security guard is still watching us, and we need to find Joey. Or has it completely slipped your mind that we've just been thrown out of here?"

Between you and me; That's the you at home, in the library, at school, at a friends, a relatives, or just sitting in you bedroom and reading this (Fully clothed, I hope) I need to share something. It's rather personal and I really don't feel like telling Logan.

You see, it will go one of four ways: He'll growl, laugh, agree, or become horny. And I don't think I can deal with any of that right now.

It stems from this miserable time long before I became a mutant, before I'd even had sex with a hairy, self confessed bubble bath worshipper. I was in High school, boys were boys, my boobs were my boobs and some rather hurtful comments were made, exchanged and written on my locker.

Needless to say, I'm no longer Mindless-Marie-And-her-Hypothetical-Hubcaps, and I don't get told I'm baseless while playing baseball, or how no guy will be able to get to second base with me. How my flying saucers have broken out of Area 51, that my Whoopee cushions have deflated and somebody must have sat on me, and Indiana Jones must have finally come along and discovered the Holy Grail… In fact he found two, and forcefully removed them both from my possession. Oh, and my favourites were; My soft serve cones melted in the Southern sun, and I was taken to court because my traffic cones were causing record breaking pile-ups throughout the state, so the judge ordered them to be removed at the cost of the tax payers, and that's why everybody hates me.

"Marie, snap the hell outta it, will you."

I blink and shake my head. Whoa, what just happened there? I swear I was right back in High school flipping people off, and crying in the toilets. Get a grip, you're older, wiser, lumbered with Logan and have seen an honest to God, real life lumberjacks newly felled tree in a sea of forestry.

"Just use your mutation to find Joey."

And I have a pair of bosoms to be proud of, I think. They don't sag, do they? Is it possible that Logan is mollycoddling my hooters to such a degree that they're beginning to sag? I mean, I'm only young and this shouldn't be happening to me yet. I'm only a baby, there's so much more I can do with them. Like… Um, paint with them, as an alternative to finger painting, or uh, rent them out to unsuspecting men as pillows on an overnight flight to Hong Kong.

It doesn't have to only be Hong Kong, other destination will do and I'm open to offers.

Logan cocks his head and inhales deeply. "There's too many scents here."

"Fine, I think he said something about wanting to see the fossils." I call over my shoulder, almost bumping into the security guard. I have a feeling we're being followed, and he's not very good at it. It doesn't help my self esteem either when Logan drapes his jacket over my chest, then glares at the guy.

I think they are starting to sag. Should I have surgery or hide them away from the world behind four different bra's and a woolly jumper? Maybe I should just throw a paper bag over my head too and be done with it?

Slapping Logan's hands away, I swear that I'm seconds away from having a mental breakdown.

I hear him grumble to himself, and carry on following the colour co-ordinated directions to Joey, I hope. I'm probably beyond the point of hope, perhaps I'm praying. Praying to God, that Logan will wake tomorrow with saggy man boobs and the shoe will be on the other foot then. Yes, that would be a dream come true, I'm praying for all men that obsess and objectify women's breasts to wake up tomorrow with a pair of their own sagging snow tires.

Ha, that would show them.

Logan holds a finger in the air and points to where the fossils are housed. "He's been down here. I can smell him. It's fresh too."

"Great, that security guards looks as though he's about to give birth to a baby rhino at any moment." I whisper, my brain feeling slightly grossed out by that thought. It's not just that he's overweight, it's the look on the guy's face, like someone has just stolen a bucket of chicken from under his nose. Or made a comment about his saggy boobs. I can totally see that happening by the way, at least five times a day if he's lucky.

I spot Joey through another doorway, standing in the lobby. Within seconds a wave of relief sweeps through me. He hasn't be kidnapped, he's just preoccupied by a giant dinosaur skeleton. I guess it won't be long before he starts to stare at women's breasts and make passing comments, that could possibly scar a girl for life. I need to have a word with him about girls, the way they develop at different stages and how to not act clueless like Logan.

"Joey, come on, we're leaving now." I shout over to the little boy, not in the least bit bothered that I've received numerous sets of disapproving gazes. Nobody told me a museum was like a library, and why the heck is Logan staring at me like that?

"Is that all you're gonna say to the pain in the fuc…"

Luckily, or in hindsight not so luckily, Joey interrupts the start of Logan's tirade.

"Marie, I've seen a stuffed walrus and rocks from space, a Dodo bird. And look at this, it's the biggest one I've ever seen!"

I look, I blink, and I don't quite believe what I'm seeing. In fact, my brain decides to float down a completely different path of thought; it really could be worse, my boobs might sag, but I don't look like a Walrus. So, in the end, I think that Logan has well and truly destroyed my confidence in my breasts.

Logan starts towards Joey, his face paling by the second. "Kid, put the damn thing back!"

The security guard hollers at us, the visitors scatter, and screams fill the air. I glance up, my eyes darting from the swaying skeleton of a T-Rex to the dinosaur bone in Joey's hand.

As the fat lady sings (or was that a scream?) and the forty two foot skeleton crumbles, I think to myself; He might have joked about my saggy boobs, but I don't resemble a fucking Walrus, thank you very much, or do I?