"HEY CANADA!"

It was a world meeting, and one of those rare times that America notices me.

"I was just wondering, why does your polar bear never grow into a big polar bear?"

"Um..."

"Oh, is it some sort of genetically modified miniature polar bear?"

"Yeeeaahhh..."

"OK I want one!"

"You can't have one."

"Why not? I'm sure it's cold enough up at my summer home in Alaska."

I shivered as I held tightly to my sweet Kumajiro.

"Oh I KNOW WHY! IT'S ACTUALLY A BABY POLAR BEAR AND YOU KILL IT FOR FUR BEFORE IT GETS BIG AND THEN GET ANOTHER BABY POLAR BEAR AND THEN DO THE SAME THING TO THAT ONE! I'LL BET YOU'VE NEVER BROUGHT THE SAME POLAR BEAR TO TWO MEETINGS! NO WONDER HE NEVER REMEMBERS WHO YOU ARE!"

"A-America, t-that's ridiculous! I don't k-k-kill polar bears, you are getting them confused with harp seal pups-"

"OH SO YOU ADMIT IT! EVERYONE, CANADA KILLS BABY SEALS, EVERYONE BOYCOTT HIM UNTIL HE CHANGES HIS EVIL WAYS!"

"Big deal, I club 'em all the time up in my Greenland territory," said Denmark.

"Mother Russia hunts seals too, kolkolkol."

"As do I," added Norway. "Face it, if you got harp seals in Alaska, you would be involved in the fur trade as well."

I took that moment of heated discussion to flee the world conference, red-faced and sweating, with my clueless Kumajiro pressed tight to my chest. America had been unusually and alarmingly astute that day.

I went back to my cabin up in Newfoundland, the one that has all of the harp seal furs. They hadn't been selling as well as I had hoped. The folks here have few other ways to make money, which makes me sad that I have to kill all these poor innocent harp seal babies to raise money for them.

I remembered when I found this Kumajiro. His mother had drowned from being too tired to swim to the next nearest ice floe to find food. Damn global warming... CURSE AMERICA FOR THIS! Oh, and China now, too.

This one was almost drowned as well, but luckily I happened to be around on my sealing boat to wrest him from the icy water and resuscitate him.

That was two weeks ago.

"Who are you?" Kumajiro asked as he sat like a dog on the ancient Kodiak bear skin that I had shot back when killing them was legal.

"How... many... times... do I have... to tell you..." I clenched my fists while trying to keep a cheery expression while looking at this bear cub who had forgotten who had saved his life and fed him and kept him warm and brought him everywhere i went... This one seemed unusually forgetful...

"I..."

I get out of my chair and reach a hand toward the wall.

"Am..."

I nervously fingered the object on the wall that I was now looking at.

"CANADA!"

I take this object, a club, and bash it down on Kumajiro's head.

And then, through a hideously gruesome process that makes me sick to even think about, I gutted him and stuffed him like Chuck Testa.

I stare at the adorable stuffed animal that I had bloodied my hands to make. What have I done?

I had just cold-bloodedly, brutally murdered this creature, who had loved me like his own mother, despite his inability to remember my name.

I hugged it and cried into its greasy light-refracting fur. I had loved Kumajiro. I loved him like a son. I loved him like a brother. I loved him like a...

Kumajiro. Even dead and stuffed, he is so... beautiful. And, since he is a stuffed animal, I do not suppose that it counts as beastiality...

I put his paw to my curl and made him bat it. Ahaha, that felt so good... I wish he did this to me when he was alive...

My sealskin pants were tightening. Tweaking my curl made my penis grow.

I took stuffed!Kumajiro and rubbed him against my pants. Aaah, that felt good.

I took off my pants and pulled down my big wooly underpants. I picked him up and shoved him, mouth-first, onto my erection. I waggled it around and laughed, seeing that it looked like a polar bear had bitten my cock and I should be running around screaming.

So I ran around screaming. But in my head I was laughing. I landed on the bear rug and rolled around, laughing, still having him "blow" on me.

I lay on my back and waggled my legs in the air. I then turned over and started humping. Up and down, up and down, like a little kid on one of those bouncy spring animals you see at the playground. God, no wonder kids like them so much!

I was just about to cum, but I wanted to make the moment last longer. I took my dick out and rubbed it over stuffed!Kumajiro's soft cuddly fur. Ohoho, how it soothed... how it tickled! How I couldn't help but drive it back into Kumajiro, this time into his anus.

It drove in so deep that the stitching tore and I got the stuffing all soaked in cum.

And then I decided to give little Kummy a turn. Fortunately, I made sure he was still anatomically correct.

I sucked on his furry little underdeveloped dick. It still tasted freshly of him, but I knew that it would never grow, never harden, never cum...

Gaaah! I AM a zoophile! I HAD to stop...

And so I gave stuffed!Kumajiro a bath. After all, China won't want to buy him if he's all sticky with cum up his back end and precum up his front end.

And then I went out hunting. For a new Kumajiro, who would likely become yet another victim in the vicious cycle.

After all, I do endure a lot of tension from those other patronizing and ignorant countries...

And knowing China, that he demands lots and lots and LOTS of stuffed animals...