Karen – Alcatraz


“… And if you’d come this way, please…” said the tour guide, guiding the group visiting that famous Alcatraz prison, located on that small island in the San Francisco area.

They passed from the guardian quarters to the main prison area, with those long rows of small cells.

Karen was in this group, her high-heeled wedge sneakers squeaking in the empty building. She rubbed her hand on her tightly wrapped thighs, feeling the tensed fabric, her tight leather jacket creaking as she moved her arm.

She was looking at those cells, wondering what it would feel like to get locked into one of them. She knew that, at some point during the visit, they would offer someone to be kept locked for a few moments. She would volunteer. She wanted to know the feeling. Of course, she wished there would be more. How about being shackled? Hand and feet? Perhaps being tied to the wall. Oh, so many fantasies in a place like that.

“… 1934, it was converted into a federal prison…” continued the tour guide, but Karen wasn’t really listening. She was living her own history, in her mind. “… officially closed in 1963. I say officially because, in reality, it was used by some secret government agency, to develop the next generation of holding cells, aimed at very violent criminals, involving more restrictive conditions…”

Now, THAT got Karen’s attention. A new generation of cells with more restrictions? She had been trailing off the group but now, four to five meters behind, she wanted to be closer, to know more. But she reached the group just as they moved on.

She looked inside the supposedly new-generation cell. 1960’s style, of course. Her jaw dropped. There was a slanted rusted steel table, shaped like an X where someone was tied up! Damn! It was inside a restricted enclosure made of very large red ropes, held by gold-colored on each of the six bends. It was rusty and almost looked like some sort of medieval torture device.

She stared at it. That person was wrapped into a snug fitting shiny black skin, like liquid tar, that seemed to follow his every curve because it was obviously a man but… without a groin. Of course, it was only a mannequin, with the groin removed.

But it was in this rubbery suit. His waist was wrapped into a wide tight belt. His feet were encased in military-looking boots. His head was encased in a gas mask-like device.

She wanted to see it up close. She wanted to touch it. She gave a quick look at the group walking away. She hadn’t been spotted. She made a quick side-step to hide behind a wall and waited for the tour guide to be out of sight before quickly walking back to that strange holding cell. She walked under the large red rope blocking people from approaching.

She stared at it even more, a shaking hand approaching the mannequin, her fingers gently touching the mannequin before retreating back, like stung or shocked. But it was only her brain acting up. She approached her hand again, touching it for a moment, then again, longer, until she rested her hand on the shiny fabric, feeling it.

That’s rubber…” she mumbled.

Suddenly, she wished she was wearing that suit. She wished she was that mannequin, tied up, secured on that device.

She heard a noise. She quickly turned around, expecting to be caught, but… nobody. There was nobody. The room was rather small and nobody could really hide in a dark corner because, well, there was none.

She crouched down behind the device and listened. Perhaps someone was coming from the corridor. Another tour group, perhaps.

That’s when she noticed it. There, in one corner, a box with ‘XJS-V2’ stenciled on the sides.

She smiled. Could it be? Should she?

She passed back under the red cable, struggling to bend her arms inside the tight sleeve of her leather jacket. Looking around, knowing she had no business there, she quickly and silently moved to the other side of the room where the box was.

It was rather large, perhaps one meter long by half a meter wide by half a meter thick (6ft by 20in X 20in in weird units). It was closed by a hasp but without anything to lock it down. Hands shaking, she opened it. There was something covered with white silk paper and some paper notes.

‘eXperimental Jail Suit Ver 2.0. March 1965’ and some instructions to put it on as it didn’t seem to have any kind of zipper

She carefully peeled away the silk paper, revealing a very heavy rubbery suit. On one end of the box, is a helmet. On the other end, boots. Wait… Ballet boots? In 1965! That would have been quite a novelty item, and quite different from the military-looking boots the mannequin had on. Even the helmet was quite different. What the mannequin had on looked like a canvas gas mask. This was totally different.

It was some sort of hard helmet with tiny eyeports. The inside seemed lined with electronics and other strange parts, leaving a narrow space for the head in the middle of it.

She put it aside and took the suit in her hands. It was heavy. Very heavy. Yes, the rubber was thick but it seemed there was more to it.

She put it down and had another look inside the crate. Four heavy steel shackles and a steel collar. That looked straight from some medieval slave auction.

Then there was this strange belt, with three branches, one going around the waist and one… through the crotch? A chastity belt? Really?

Two black bags. She opened one. It was briefs. Definitely aimed for men with the front pouch, or rather penis sleeve hidden inside the pouch, and a stick that would go into the rectum. Interesting.

The other bag contained briefs for women, with… two sticks! For obvious holes.

And finally, a wide and thick straight belt made out of the same material as the suit, but greyish instead of black.

She heard voices coming. It was another tour group. She gathered all the items and pushed them in the corner close to the door, and she clung to the same wall, holding her breath.

The tour guide passed by, did its little history-telling. People looked at the suit from the main corridor. No one entered the room.

She let out a sigh of relief when she heard them walk away.

She risked a peek outside, just in case someone else had the same idea she had, but everybody was gone.

She quickly got rid of her shoes while she struggled to pull her jacket sleeves off. Swearing, she managed and her T-shirt was quickly gone. She stopped and listened. Silence.

Giggling, she took her underwear off and put on the latex panties. She would go total or won’t go at all!

She shivered when she pushed the slick sticks up her rectum and vagina, putting both hands in front, biting her lips.

“That could be fun,” she mumbled.

She grabbed the suit and looked for a zipper or something, but there was none. The neck hole was rather large, tho. She figured it was the only way. She put it on, feet first, through the neck hole. As her legs went down the suit, she felt a little disappointed. This was not as tight as she would have hoped. It wasn’t even snug. This was plain loose.

Since the panties were already arousing her, she said “The hell with it” and continued, putting on the complete suit.

Her hands fit into snug-fitting attached gloves. She sat on the ground and put on the ballet boots, pulling the zipper. There was a simple strap with a tab and slot fastening on top of it. She put the tab in and easily pulled it out.

“Probably too old to still work. Might be rusty,” she mumbled, fastening them anyway to not have some loose strap ruining the experience. Then she put on the heavy ankle shackles. They were closing with the same tab and slot device. As she was fastening them, she didn’t notice the little puff of white smile that spewed from each boot lock.

She added the shackles to her wrists. while doing so, small puffs of white smoke floated out of her ankle shackles.

She took the hood. This one was made out of very stretchy rubber. She pulled it on and worked the large yoke inside her suit. She added the steel collar. While she was fastening it, a puff of white smoke was emitted by the cuffs.

She wrapped the corset-like band around her waist. This was more tight fitting than the suit. A puff of white smile was emitted by her collar. She never saw any of those smoke puffs.

She took the 3-point steel belt, or chastity belt as she thought more of it and put it on. It too was more tight than the suit, better suited for her size. Finally, she added the wide plastic-like belt around her corset.

She then picked up the helmet. She was about to put it on when she heard more voices coming closer. She hid again in the corner and waited for them to go on.

A few moments later, she was back with her fitting. Her breath was heavy, her heart was pounding hard. She put on the helmet. Good thing it was rather tight so it held well on her head.

Now, to the board. She quickly pulled the man mannequin out of it. It was easy, he was simply put there, not fastened in any manner.

She took place on the board, resting her ballet boots on the food holder and gently taking place on the board, resting her butt against it, then her back, raising her hands to reach the top of the arm frames.

Oh yes, she liked it. Yeah, she was missing the actual restriction but she closed her eyes, imagining what could happen, how it would feel like to be stuck like that. What crime deserved that punishment? What… what should she do?

She slowly moved, bringing her arms down, rubbing them against the loose-fitting suit, reaching the large belt at her waist, going down behind it on the platform, feeling two little chains, one on each side.

She pulled on them and they were just long enough to snap to the side rings of the belt. Smiling, she did it. That was at least, one restriction she could feel.

She put her arms back up, shifting her hips, her waist, to feel the new restraints.

She squirmed and, unbeknownst to her, at one point, all four shackles and her collar touched one tiny metal rod protruding from the ends of the frame. This triggered some sort of electro-magnet and all shackles were firmly grabbed by claws. There were sparks as the claws welded themselves to the shackles. At the same time, a clear sound, starting with a low pitch and rapidly getting to a high pitch, like something charging-up, was heard.

“What the hell?” said Karen.

The clamps began to move away from each other, effectively stretching Karen. She squirmed and moaned. Oh yes, that was good. Very good. Yes, tighter. Pull! Pull! Tighter,” she was mumbling, squirming fighting the stretching, and liking every second of itl

“Yes tighter… okay… maybe not that tight… You can stop now…” she said, but the machine continued to stretch her and only stopped when it began to be very uncomfortable, almost painful.

Then she heard some squishing sound and soon after, felt the suit tighten on her body. Oh yes, she liked it. And she wanted it also tighter, and tighter.

And tighter.

Her breath was shaking, her heart was pounding. She squirmed, feeling the restraints, feeling the thick suit tightening around her body.

Then her helmet seemed to become smaller and the rods in her mouth became bigger and even more, something was crawling up her nose. And the rods in her crotch were also getting larger. Way larger. And longer.

She was moaning. She loved it. She felt the rod, or whatever it was, grow larger, and go deeper in her mouth, choking her as it went way deeper. She had to swallow as it pushed itself down her trachea, down to her stomach. Tubes seemed to grow and coat her nostrils and sinuses.

She couldn’t produce any sound anymore, and her hearing seemed to be gone. All she could hear was the whistling of her breath through the small nose tubes and her pounding heart.

The rode enlarged also in her crotch, becoming larger, longer.

She squirmed, looking at the ceiling through the small eyeholes. The corset device was also tightening, squishing her waist, making her breathing shallower. Damn, she loved it. She loved everything about it! She wanted more!

In the main corridor, another visitor group was approaching.

“… And it officially closed in 1963. I say officially because, in reality, it was used by some secret government agency, to develop the next generation of holding cells, aimed at very violent criminals, involving more restrictive conditions like the display we have here, but it was never put to use.” said the tour guide.

“Wow, that woman looks so real!” said one of the visitors.

“Woman? You mean man… what? Oh, sorry, they must have changed the mannequin, it was a man less than an hour ago,” said the tour guide, giggling, looking at the definitive shape of a woman, tightly enclosed in a shiny black rubbery catsuit, revealing her ever-enhanced curves.

“And this one is moving! Incredible. Probably one of those animatro-tronical things they have at Disney or something,” said another visitor.

“Really… Damn, you’re right,” said the tour guide. “I haven’t been brief on it,” he said, as he approached the squirming female form on the rack. He was puzzled.

He touched her. She was warm, not cold as he expected. Then, in the corner, he saw the male mannequin, resting on its side, leaning against the wall, and a pile of clothes. He crouched next to it and looked at them: shirt, leather jacket, wedge-heeled sneakers, jeans. He took the pants and searched through the pockets, retrieving the visitor ticket, the reservation form as well as a wallet. He looked at all of it. He took his radio.

“Dan to Phil. Say, Phil. Are you missing someone from your group?”

“What? I don’t think so. Let me check… Is anyone missing a partner?… Apparently not… Okay, two… six… eight… ten, eleven… yeah, I’m missing someone. Why?”

“I have someone here with a ticket for your tour. Name: Karen.”

“Is there a Karen in the group?… Nope, she’s not here. Why?”

“I think I found her. Thanks,” he said, changing the channel of his radio. “Dan to Lynda? We have… ahem… situation in the room X-1. You should come take a look. I will lock the room until everything is cleared out. I need to go back to my tour group,” he said.

“What is it, Dan? Can you describe the…situation?”

“Not really. Better check it out,” he replied.

He closed the door and returned to his group, trying to dismiss there was problem and leading them elsewhere.

All of that happened while Karen was completely oblivious of it. She was in her own world. The small eye ports had turned to black. The helmet had tightened around her head and cut all exterior sounds. And the suit was isolating her in more ways than she could have imagined. She didn’t even feel the touch of the tour guide!

And even more! The suit, the helmet, the bondage, all seemed to be slowly tightening! She loved it! She was craving for it. The sticks have inflated beyond beliefs! This was just wonderful and she understood why it was never used as a punishment device. This wasn’t punishing anybody, this thing was creating an addiction!

“What the hell is going on here? Who’s this?” asked the blond woman as she entered the room, slowly approaching the rack. On it, a woman, tightly encased in latex, her waist crushed by a dreadful corset. A belt tightly circling her waist and linked to the board. A steel belt biting into her waist and crotch, and a rigid helmet, removing all facial features. And she apparently, wasn’t responding to any stimulus.

“According to her papers, her name is Karen and she was part of the visiting group K this afternoon. She apparently slips out of the group and, well…” said the security guard gesturing toward the open crate and the civilian clothes in a pile, “she… served herself.”

“I don’t care. Get her out of it. Now. Nobody is going to have fun in my exhibit,” firmly said Lynda.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said the security guard.

“And what do you know about it?” asked Lynda.

“Well, miss, I’ve been working here for forty years. So, I learned a lot of things along the way. See that red light, there, just under the table?”


“Well, it indicates that the device is charged. And there’s no way to take her out of it without, well, killing her.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m sure you heard the name Nicola Tesla before, right?”

“yeah… The car manufacturer…”

The security guard shook his head in disbelief.

“No, the inventor of many of the electrical things we use today: induction motors, transformers and… this coil.” he said making a broad gesture at the whole device.

“What about it? And what does electricity have to do anything with it? Isn’t this thing unplugged?”

“Well, when she took place, with her four steel shackles and her collar, she, maybe inadvertently, triggered the mechanisme, releasing a spring. That spring, when released, winded up a device created by Tesla, which charged the suit, which is effectively a coil. In the middle of two layers of rubber, there’s a steel mesh,” he said, pinching Karen’s suit, or trying to grab it as it was too tight for anything pinching it.

“This thing, this suit, this coil, is now charged with a few thousand volts. If we try to remove her from the board or try to disarm the coil, it will release its charge through the shackles, shocking our victims and stopping her heart instantly, effectively killing her.”

“What the hell are you talking about? This thing was rendered useless eons ago. Are you telling me it was still active?”

“Well, apparently, Mr Tesla was very imaginative. Nobody, even myself, has ever noticed the spring loading mechanism, which we can probably see now because it has been activated,” he said, pointing at a window within the platform where a tab could be seen, that had moved as it dragged some dust with it. “Of course, nobody tried the platform before, but I was told that this exact problem made the punishment rack useless.”

“And what problem is it, really?”

“We can’t get her out of it. We can feed her, we can clean her, but we can’t free her without killing her.”

“Find a way,” ordered Lynda.

“Well, Ma’am, with all due respect. If Mr. Tesla didn’t find a way to disarm his own device, I doubt anybody can.”

“Yeah, right. Just… plug wires to… whatever and take those shackles off. I mean, I don’t see any apparent way to lock them on, so they must be easy to take off.

The security guard approached Karen, went to her neck and smelled the air.

“Not exactly, Ma’am. They were closed by a tab and a slot. Two different chemicals have been applied on both ends. When those two chemicals got in touch with each other, after ten seconds or so, they fused the tab to the slot. Permanently.”

“And how do you know that? You can smell it?”

“Yes, Ma’am. The smell is still discernible. It smells a little like gunpowder.”

“Shit… Uh… what now?” she asked as Karen began to squirm on the board. “Is she in pain?”

“I don’t believe so, Ma’am. I would say… quite the contrary.”

Totally unaware of the drama around her, Karen was enjoying being stretched, squeezed and especially stimulated. Those… inserts, were having fun inside her, like they were alive. She squirmed even more, unaware that her squirmings were keeping the coil-suit charged through ingenious devices conceived by Tesla.

All that she knew was that an orgasm was building, like never before.

She was in for the thrill of a lifetime.

Literally, a lifetime!

(c) monsterp63

26 of April 2024

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4 thoughts on “Karen – Alcatraz

  1. Fantastic work again Pierre!
    Really love the alternative method for a corset, as well as the mechanisms keeping her fixed to the board.

    I hope Karen likes her new permanent job as an exhibition piece!

    1. Thank you.
      I hope Tesla (the inventor, not the car manufacturer…) won’t mind.

      I think I should have called the story that: “The Exhibition Piece”…

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