(Warning, this is one of those 'depressing' stories where the character is permanently in a situation)

"WOW! I tell ya gal, I have never, never seen a more perfect form. You'd be great!"

Bess let out a sigh and put the clothes she was carrying on her cart. It was another joke, another immature fur calling her a heifer when she turned around and then moo-ing all the way to the joke bank. She was a bit overweight, but bovids in general had genetic lingering from the days before they had evolved. They always had a large bone structure that made any cow appear to be fat.

She turned around and looked around, there was no one in sight, then she looked down. A full three heads lower than her own stature stood a small possum, a dwarf among even his species. He wore a loud sweatsuit and large track shoes on his paws. His beady black eyes were covered with sunglasses that were as equally hideous as the sweatsuit.

"Excuse me?" she asked with a grin, knowing that she could simply fall over and crush his body if the jokes started rattling out.

"Doll, I'd implied you'd look great in Hollywood. I know, it sounds like I'm squeezing your ego for a quick bam, but I assure you, it's not." He took a step back once she started to loom over him in a threatening manner. "My name's Harold Dredge and I'm a talent scout for a certain... agency."

Bess said nothing, merely stared down at him and tapped a hoof rather heavily on the concrete outside the store.

"I was told to be on the lookout for a 'well formed' female bovid for a special role. And of all the Gazelles, Antelopes and Cows I have seen today, you really ring the bell, a perfect fit." he droned on, keeping up with the cow facsimiles.

"And what would I have to do?" Bess asked, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be getting on all fours and mooing as some absurdly large bull mounts me?" She had heard all this song and dance before. 'You'd look great with dick in your ass, babe!' was the general tone of these conversations, though not so openly brash.

"Not at all! I'm hired to look for some folks that are willing to wear a few outfits and pose for photos. I swear on my honor that not a single male or female will get into your pen."

This was impossible, no one had even been recruited off the streets of Hollywood to act. There was a catch to this, there just had to be.
"This sounds too good to be true..." she trailed off.

"Look doll, I'll keep looking if you say no. But, imagine this:
Billboards, names in lights, those huge bat signals, without the bat to announce you arrival. Millions and millions of furs waiting to see you, anywhere you go. Life of comfort, luxury and anything you'd desired!"

She was feeling butterflies in her stomach. Bess had never been one to imagine herself in the movies, clinging to the leg of an actor as the wanting maiden, or blazing fire from both barrels as the daring explorer heroine. But the Possum knew how to wind her up, and she was falling for it head over hoof.

Harold could see her eyes begin to glow, he was nearly there, just had to sell it a bit more.

Hook.
"If all the pieces fit, you'll be a household name. The world's biggest discovery! You'll be added to the history books and known throughout all of time!"

She was still on the fence... the pitch of a lifetime.

Line.
"Tell ya what, I'm so sure you are going to the top, I'll pay for whatever you were going to buy, and anything else here you pick out in the next five minutes."

Bess ground the tip of her hoof into the concrete, wanting to say yes. She picked up the pile of clothes she had picked out and thumbed through the tags, seeing the prices. She was just going to get one, maybe two, but this. Yes. She would get the floral print shirt and the wide cut jeans and...

Sinker
"Yes!" she shouted out, with all the gusto of someone that had finally been answered on 'will they pop the question'.

"Allright then!" Harold rubbed his paws together so vigorously, she though she saw smoke. He pulled out a thick wallet from his pants and thumbed out a card. "Harold Dredge, at your service!" he handed her the card "And that IS real gold embossing too." he added.

"Starting tomorrow, you will want for nothing. Well, aside from the release from the fans."

Bess felt two hundred pounds lighter, she barely touched the sidewalk and the wooden floors as Harold swiped his card inside the store.

"What should I wear?" she giddily asked.

"The costume department handles that, just make sure to show up on set tomorrow at 11 AM. Lot C, door 3350. There is a Wadjet eye on the door. If you get lost, as a lot attendant. Oh, and take this." He handed her a thick laminated card with a bar code covering the back. "Show this to the gate attendant and he'll let you in."

Bess was light headed as she headed home. She decided it was best not to announce this anywhere yet. She wanted to see how it panned out first. She couldn't do anything without thinking about it, TV, bed, she finally fell asleep to dreams where she was everywhere, no one could escape her.

************

"Proceed." The grey floppy eared lapine at the gate blurted out flatly after scanning her badge.

Bess hurriedly moved to the building she was supposed to be at after she located a large map along a tour route for the studio. Out of breath, she knocked on the door and was greeted by Harold.

"You made it!" He chimed. "Come in, come in."

Bess stepped hoof inside. The huge warehouse was well lit, showcasing faux marble pillars, sandstone limestone statues painted in blue and gold. Ferns, palm trees and other tropical flora doted the area. It was all set up to look as parts of an Egyptian set.

Second iteration Egypt though, once the humans had wiped themselves out, history repeated itself to a near mirror image of the past. It was only in the past two hundred years did the new civilizations discover the extinct world of the humans. It was a shadowing omen of things to come though, but things had turned around and now they were nearly a hundred years more advanced then they were when they nuked themselves into oblivion, except with alot more peace.

She was led to the costume department and soon was stripped of her clothes. The suit they were putting her into was odd, and looked alot like a gimp suit from some porno films.

"What is this?" Bess inquired in an angered tone, holding the rubber suit at the doberman as if she knew.

"It's..." she paused. "You are scheduled for a fitting today."

"I thought a tailor did that?"

"Nope. These days you are scanned by a computer, patterns are drafted from the scans and then assembled once cut."

"Oh," Bess blushed. She didn't know much of anything about the industry. It would make sense that things were automated to save on furpower and money. "Ok." she said quietly. The doberman nodded and walked off, closing the door as she went.

Bess did her best to get the tight suit on. Eventually she found that rolling the suit on worked better than pushing into it, soon she was hoof to neck in latex. The slight breeze around her part and tailhole was unnerving, but the thickness of the latex wasn't enough to give a curve to herself down there. She guessed that there was another piece that was more... form fitting.

She called for the doberman who helped her zip the rear up, but kept the hood down. She was given a robe to wear and was told to follow, and she did.

The two entered a dark room and she removed the robe and was taken to the center of the room where a red dot was painted. The walls were lined with metal flexible hosing in spools that traced to the ceiling. There was so much machinery in here that she became confused when trying to figure out it's purposes.

"Hood up." the doberman said, giving a little tug on the zipper. Bess took a breath and plunged into the black hole. Rubber squeaked around her ears as she was helped to sit it correctly. The mouth was open and the edge of the latex stuck to her lips as the doberman pressed it in place. The rear zipper was closed slowly as to not pinch any fur. Through muffled rubber she heard the doberman plod away.

All around her the machines hummed to life. They coiled around her arms and legs, binding her and lifting her into the air.

"H-Hey!" She cried out, "What is the meaning of this?"

No one answered her as the unseen arms went to work. Her entire body was sprayed with something and the suit felt loose for a second, then tightened back up.

Her arms were guided downwards and felt cold, as if they were dipped in something. Quickly there was another feeling of clothing sliding over her arms and up to the elbow. Her fingers were funneled into slots in something. A split hoof mitt that reached past her elbow, they were thick and stifling, she couldn't move her fingers but what the muscles compressing allowed.

"What the fuck is going..." her words were cut short, something popped into her muzzle and pushed in towards her throat. It stopped before going in deeper, but any attempt to push it out failed.

Bess felt a cold wet sensation in her nose and moved her head away. No matter where she turned it, the cold continued, through her nasal cavity and down her throat, only stopping the chilling wriggle when she felt a pressure in her chest. Soon after, he breathing became labored, the more she struggled, the lighter in the head she felt. The tubes only allowed a small portion of the air to reach her lungs.

She was grasped at the crook of the elbow and leaned forward. She screamed through the thing in her muzzle as two cold toys pressed against her rectum and lips. Short moaning breaths gurgled from her muzzle as they slowly made their way inside. As the shafts slid into her body the became larger. The same cold touched her urethral opening and she writhed in pain as it slid it's girth into her bladder.

The toys pushed in all the way, the lands after the wracking pain of a large bulb at the ends of them was a relief, but not comfortable as they were still pressing her open. They were given a firm push and then the pressure inward stopped. Bess tried to push them out, but they remained stuck inside. To make matters worse, they inflated a bit, bulging outward and causing discomfort.

Slowly the thing in her muzzle pushed inward, stretching her throat to it's limits, feeling like an infant sized panty hose on a two foot concrete pipe. She felt a ring pass her teeth and a cup of sorts slide over her muzzle and like the other things, the pressure inward stopped, but the gag wouldn't fall out as much as she tried.

Her hooves were pressed together and she felt something in between them. Starting at her hooftips, she felt something pressing inward. Outside her restrained form there was a fork with latex rolls on them. The fork spun around her slowly, wrapping every inch of her in more layers of latex. It wound up and up until it reached her chest, then the bindings on her elbows released, but then her arms were quickly bound again and forced to cross her chest. The wrapping continued up and over them, pinning her arms there.

The rolls began to get smaller and smaller as they wrapped everything and started on her head. The fork withdrew and a new set moved into place, applying another layer of squeezing tight rubber. Hooves, upwards and head, this happened a total of four times, the last layer was the thinnest. The others had done their job and were keeping her stiff and bound to immobility.

A metal collar clanked around her neck and lifted her upwards. If she was bare, it would have choked her like a noose, but the layers and layers of bandages spread her weight across her entire body.

Bess didn't feel anything as a fine mist of glue was sprayed on her. A four millimeter thick rubber sack was slid over the slick surface, a final coating. She couldn't struggle, couldn't move at all. The sack was brought up to over her form and the machines sealed the edges with the glue it had sprayed on. From the outside she was a large rubber form, the outer layer and bandages removing any fine features and reducing her to a smooth mummy.

Her form was lifted in the air towards the top of a sarcophagus. A last nozzled arm began to pump thick liquid into the shape until it was five inches deep. She was then lowered into the stuff and pushed downward. It clung to the rubber and bulged out to halfway up her mummified form. More followed, pouring over her top all up and down the length of the interior until she was covered.

The lid was lowered and a port on the backside was used to put more of the agent in. It pushed out all of the air that was remaining and was welded shut. The liquid was a special kind of vulcanizing latex. It stuck to the walls of the tomb and the suit. If anyone was to pry it open, and it would take heavy machinery to do so, the glue would tear Bess in half as the latex had bonded into itself and her. There was no way out now.

**************

"And here we see the sarcophagus of Mooten Kamen's wife, Moora." A Fennec in a blue suit motioned a paw towards the 'golden' sarcophagus behind eight inches of plexiglass bolted to the floor. "Though her tomb was not ornate as his, it is made of pure gold exclusively for her. While he was just a boy, she grieved his death, or murder as some would speculate, and it was said that her wish was to be with him."

The crowd looked upon the plain tomb, the resting place of a Pharaoh's Queen, recently discovered in a new, untouched section of his tomb in the Great Valley. It was a surprising find to say the least. They all stood on the faux gold plate in front of the display, eagerly snapping pictures with their personal micro-pc's and uploading them to the network.

"Rumor has it that she was so struck by his death that she was mummified alive and was buried with him. Legend has it that you can still hear her agonizing moo-ing for her beloved King, even to this day."

The audience fell silent, but the other noise in the museum was drowning out anything that may have been coming from inside. Still, they listened, but heard nothing.

"Do you wish to gaze upon her splendor a bit more, it would bring her great pleasure if you did." the Fennec cracked a wide grin, as if she knew something.

The crowd murmured and began to shuffle off slowly, leaving the Fennec standing on the faux gold plate.

"Such a pity, " she voiced out loud, as if talking to someone. "I do know that the longer anyone stands on this plate, the more the toys inside you jump to life and give you the only feeling you have left. And in greater quantities than a normal fur can feel as well."

She walked off the plate, de-activating the toys inside the sarcophagus. She could almost hear them, the soft begging pleas, as near silent moos for her to stand there a bit longer, just a few more seconds. But there was no audible sounds from the tomb. There was nearly a foot of rubber and metal between them and her air and food were transported through the nose tubes. There was no way for Bess to make any noise the unaided ear could hear. Maybe with a stethoscope you could hear the tiny rush of air from her breathing, but no one here was going to get through the plexiglass to do that.

"Perhaps someday, someone will stand here long enough. Once the warning alarm for the case gives a short blast, I'll know that you have found release and will wait for yet another one."

She moved on from the lavish display.
"Someday." she said.

****

Soon the world would see what the billboards were saying. Millions would travel to see this new discovery. The history books were re-written to support Moora's place in history. Archeologists all agreed that it would be a terrible loss of preserved history if they opened the sarcophagus. And so Bess stayed, basking in the fame that she sought.

Bess was a perfect fit for all the pieces. Slowly she forgot the outside world and as Harold said, 'She did seek relief from the fans'. The alarm did sound off several times, but they were far and few between.