Molly was so sad. All the boys were mean to her. Silly, stupid boys. Every night she hugged Mister Bear to her and cried and cried. By morning poor Mister Bear was soaked with Molly's tears of misery.

"If only you were a real boy," Molly said to Mister Bear one night before bed.

In a growly, whiskery, back-of-the throat voice, Mister Bear replied, "I can be."

Molly couldn't believe her ears. "You can?"

"I can, with your help."

"How? Tell me."

"It's a secret," Mister Bear said in a growly, whiskery whisper.

"Tell me. Tell me please. I can keep a secret."

"All you have to do is rub me," Mister Bear said.

"Rub you? You mean like Aladdin rubbing a lamp? Will a genie come popping out and grant me three wishes?" Molly giggled.

"Not like a lamp," Mister Bear said. "If you're not going to take this seriously..."

"I am. I am," Molly said. "I promise I'll take this seriously. Tell me how to rub you."

"If you want a real boy, you have to rub me against your baby fur."

Molly crinkled her brow. "Are you sure?"

Mister Bear nodded.

"Okay," Molly said. She began rubbing Mister Bear gently against her baby fur.

Mister Bear groaned. "Oh, that's good," he crooned. "That's very good," his gravely, grovelly, back-of-the-throat whisper smoother than before. "Rub harder. Faster."

Molly rubbed harder. Faster. "It's not working," she said.

"It will," Mister Bear moaned. "Keep rubbing."

Molly kept rubbing.

"Now keep rubbing and press my stuffing hole."

"I can't do that!"

"You can," gasped Mister Bear. "If you want to know the truth, you must!"

Molly kept rubbing, and while she rubbed, she pressed Mister Bear's stuffing hole, tentatively at first, and then with more force.

She rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. And slowly but surely, she felt the truth of Mister Bear's words. Slowly but surely, she felt the truth of Mister Bear. The more her finger penetrated Mister Bear's stuffing hole, the more Mister Bear's truth penetrated her.

"It is working! Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!"

It worked and worked, time after time, long into the night. Not only had Mister Bear become a real boy, he'd become a real man.

In the morning, still hugging her dear Mister Bear, Molly awoke once again wet with tears, tears this time not of misery but of joy and ecstasy and sweet sweaty love.