Straight Bear Sex For Ladies

I was thrilled to hear about a book called Bear.

Not so thrilled that I bought it, you understand. And nowhere near thrilled enough to consider reading it.  I was, however, thrilled enough to read a punchy synopsis on a Reddit thread. It is a book where a woman whops them out for a literal bear.

It was written by an adult  woman, too, which means the phrase “I whopped em out guys it was so awesome” never appears in the book. Probably. Like I say, I haven’t read it.

My understanding of the book is this: a librarian goes on holiday to meet up with a Bear. Through a series of misunderstandings, clerical errors, and missed memos, they end up having sex. Whatever actually happened, the book popped so many eyes in literary circles that it was given an award, in the hope that the book would eat the award and go away.

The book did not go away, and is still about a woman and a bear having it off in Canada. There have been a number of covers:

Here, Bear and Librarian are enjoying their brief period of notoriety, and trying out for Dancing With The Stars.

Bear has now let himself go, but Librarian doesn’t care. 
This book aims to surprise the reader. Page One reads “haha! you bought this book, and it is about a woman and a bear DOING IT. Have you even seen a bear’s dick, it’s inside out and can drink lemonade like Mork’s finger”

To save you the cost and effort of reading this book, I have written what I imagine it is like.


Jennifer ran her fingers through the bear pelt. The hair felt so soft, so enveloping. She buried her face in it, poking her tongue out a couple of millimetres then chuckling to herself. If only those fuddy-duddies in the local abstinence group could see her now! It made her wish that she was having sex with a real bear, and not just having a big holiday wank on a rug in a log cabin in Canada.
(I totally ruined that pull-back-to-reveal with the title of the chapter, sorry)
Sighing, Jennifer innocently emptied another ladleful of honey into her bra, and naively slid a third picnic basket into her fanny, unaware that this is precisely the kind of behaviour that attracts randy bears. As far as she was concerned, it was just something she liked to do.


 “Oh boy,” said a nearby bear. “I can smell de peekneed baskits! If I don’t gets me a hamper or suchlike before I have to hibernate like a bear do, I gonna go wild in the aisles!”
Suddenly an aromatic vapour trail shot up his nose, causing him to hover six inches in the air, and blast around the forest like a Light Cycle. “Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” he said, taking a sheer ninety degree corner between a maple tree and a different Canadian tree. “Oh baby that’s a what I like!”
But there was another smell, apart from the picnic basket. A smell that that bear didn’t understand at all. The smell of a nice lady’s fanny.


The bear, whose name in English is Mr Wendell, crashed through the window of Jennifer’s hideaway forest. She had been fingering herself for some time now, but a combination of high altitude and low inspiration had got her no closer to producing her usual babbling brook of effluvia.

“Hello!” said Jennifer. “You seem nice!”

“Hello!” said Mr Wendell, deflating slightly. “I came here for the peekneed baskids. But you appear to be rolling around on the pelt of my mum.”

“Am I?” said Jennifer, saddened by the bears reaction, but secretly aroused by the realisation that she might be bisexual for bears. She felt a wall of eyes inside her open up inside her. This process was equally enlightening and alarming, as each eye swivelled wildly, seeing that it was part of a wall of similar eyes. A wave of angst rippled along the wall of eyes like electricity, as each pondered it’s position in the wall, and the existence of whatever brain it was that powered their thought.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve actually been convinced for years that my mum had been killed and replaced with a robot bear mum, so if anything it’s a relief to find out that I was right, and I wasn’t suffering from a classic Capgras delusion.”

“Let’s have sex maybe!”

“That sounds nice! Wait a minute, you said maybe. Mr Wendall doesn’t like begrudging, obliged, reluctant or awkward consent. That’s all the balls. Give us some enthusiastic consent plz” Having delivered his important moral message about consent, Mr Wendell stopped doing his cool voice.

“Oh hell yeah,” said Jennifer. “Fuck me daft, I bloody loves it.” With that, her legs sprang open into a wide-on so impossibly wide and fierce that it blasted Mr Wendell’s hair into a radical new style.  He could see all three picnic baskets, like a winner’s podium up a fanny. He winked to himself in the mirror.


On the other side of that mirror, a robot bear mum said “BEEP BOOP DOOP”, as Jennifer cupped Mr Wendell’s balls and worked the shaft, like she had read to do in the magazines. Her eyes flashed red once, which is how robot bear mums convey the conflicting emotions of pride and resentment when their adopted flesh-child is getting his balls cupped for the first time. Then her eyes flashed blue twice, which is robot bear mum for “maybe I have been missing out on the pleasures of the flesh”, so she slathered itself in bacon and sausages, microwaved herself for a couple of minutes until she was sizzling, then rolled through the wall on her tank tracks.

“BEEP BOOP DOOP” said the robot bear mum, pulling a pastry brush out of a drawer in her chest and glazing Jennifer’s tits with egg. “That’s not very sexy,” protestedJennifer,  just as Mr Wendell went into hibernation and landed on both of them.


 For however long it is bears sleep for, Jennifer and the robot bear mother fingered, scissored and did strap-ons, and when Jennifer got hungry she simply popped a sausage from Mrs Robo-Wendall’s makeshift body into her mouth. When Mr Wendell woke up they all agreed to get married and live happily ever after, which they proceeded to do forever and ever amen. BEARS

This story was written for Regular Features Episode 98, and you can listen to that here

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