The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Electra Factor

Disclaimer: Days after completing the editing of this story, one of the worst tragedies in world history occurred in the nation of Japan. This combination of natural and technological disasters destroyed lives, displaced families, and brought one of the proudest and technologically advanced nations in the world to its knees.

Out of respect to the people of Japan, we delayed the release of this story until now. The depiction of Japan and the Japanese people in this story are based on common character types used on the Archive by many authors to depict Japan and the natural progression of Japan of a nation of technology in their miracle transition from a nation obliterated by war to an economic power and the leader of innovation.. It no way depicts any personal views of the Japanese people past or present from either Myself or CG.

Thank you and enjoy the story.
Bluejay and CG

Chapter 1 All the way to Tokyo:

“TOKYO?! You gonna sell out to those Japs? Did they nip you already? God damnit, they got to you too, just like they got to Amelia, just like they made you don’t even want to know how many Tokyo Roses! First they took over the cars, then they took over the cartoons, now nothing- and I mean nothing- comes out today without some Jap crap up its ass!”

Wanda gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and waited for her grandfather’s rant to be over. Richard Marion was 88 years old and had served in the Pacific Theater of World War II, so she’d heard his xenophobic raving back before senility had set in, but it was worse now that old age had claimed his reason. Still, she tried to gentle him. “Now, now, grandpa, a lot has changed since 1941. We’re not at war anymore. They have some of the best technology companies in the world. It’s a major advancement for a computer programmer to be offered a job at one of their companies,” she said calmly. Only a slight edge of discomfort slipped past her self-control as she tried to tune out her grandfather’s seventy-year-old racism. She averted her gaze, not wanting to see the mess that he’d become; the mishmash of brightly colored clothes he’d thrown together was just additional proof that he’d lost his last marble.

Nervously, she patted her freshly straightened hair and tugged down on the jacket of her black suit. She couldn’t hide the fact that this was a big change for her, one that she couldn’t bring herself to make without the approval of her family. One by one they’d given it, first thinking she was crazy, but being impressed by the six-figure salary and loaded software development contract. “That’s our Wanda,” they said, and the neighborhood had thrown her a going-away party.

Still, she needed her grandfather’s blessing, or at least not his disapproval, so she had come here, only to be reminded that he wasn’t the man he used to be. But she listened to his conspiracy theory of the minute, hoping that she could reach him somehow.

“You know why Truman nuked ‘em?” he asked her, staring her right in the eye.

“Because we were tired of war and wanted to go home? Because we wanted to show them just how horrible we could make war and make them give up?” Wanda asked. She gritted her teeth against the story she knew was coming and reminded herself that highly sought after computer programmers did not throw up in nursing homes.

“Naw, ‘cause Truman was a pussy, a big old me-owin’ pussy. He used that cheap way out when the Marines were ready to gut each and every last one of them animals. Sure, he said Stalin was on the move, or maybe that fascist crook in China hoodwinked him, but he wasn’t thinkin’ long term. OSS knew why we should have burned every last Jap from Tinian to Kyoto, but nope, he just had to show off his atomic hard-on, hooked up old Gay Enola and shot his wad to do a half-assed job. Now the worst of those children of Satan himself are all over those islands like a plague...”

Wanda’s efforts to keep her lunch down were failing miserably, and she snapped. “You told me this a thousand times even before you got here, so tell me this. Why would Truman get thousands of our men killed just to prove that we were no better than they were?”

“’Cause that’s what would have proved that we were,” her grandfather replied, and Wanda did a double-take at how clear his voice was. “You’re grown now, and you can know, but it’s too late for you to believe me. Those Japanese were fuckin’ with people’s heads, just like in those late-night movies. OSS had records on some of those girls from China. And those crazy girls they draw? They look Japanese to you? The way they treat foreigners, it’s like we’re some deer to be shot and mounted over the mantel, and I didn’t live this long to see no child of my blood hung over some Jap mantel!” He stopped and looked shrewdly at her. “Yeah, you don’t believe me, and I ain’t real surprised at that. I’ll be gone soon enough, though, and when that happens, all the stuff I been hidin’ can be released. Maybe it’ll help you. Lord knows they’re offerin’ you too much to stay in Cleveland. I love you enough to wish you luck, kid.”

“Thanks,” Wanda said, fighting back tears.

“Good luck- but beware! Stay out of bars, don’t do favors for the boss, and don’t touch anything you ever saw on TV- ours or theirs.” Her grandfather opened the bottom compartment of his nightstand and dragged out a strongbox. “Read this and keep it in mind.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh out loud. ”French Cuisine Without Servitude Assistance? Grandpa, this is your big secret? A book that sold twelve million copies in its first printing forty years ago? I guess it’ll keep me from having to go out to eat too much, though.”

She smiled sadly as they said their goodbyes, hiding the realization that her grandfather had well and truly lost it. It was a shame to see him the way he was, knowing how he had once been- Wanda had seen his Silver Star and Sergeant Major’s insignia in their little boxes, and anyone who had known him back then said that he had been on a secret mission in China with the OSS that had turned the tide of the war; some of the research she had done for a school project described him as one of the greatest African-American soldiers of the twentieth century. But it seemed like he’d permanently reverted to those days, and the generation gap was painful to experience.

That didn’t keep her from stowing the cookbook in her handbag for the twelve-hour flight, though.

“Pardon, pardon!” the teenybopper in the sailor suit exclaimed as she crashed into Wanda in the check-in line. Wanda looked her up and down and shook her head. The woman’s pink hair was the most reasonable thing about her; the cartoonishly disproportionate breasts were one thing, but the tiny skirt was so close to illegal it was a miracle the girl hadn’t been picked up for soliciting, and no one in their right mind wore high heels for a twelve-hour flight.

Between the disorientation of changing planes, the confusion of being in a new airport, and the surreal appearance of the stranger, it took Wanda a few moments to notice that the woman had slipped the cookbook out of her bag. Her hand came down and seized the teenybopper’s wrist, revealing a very bad attempt to replace the cookbook with a manga. Wanda’s Japanese was not the best, especially not when it was six in the morning and she had yet to acquire coffee, but the cover suggested that this was the kind of manga that the Moral Guardians held up as an example of everything bad in Japanese culture at once. “Ahem. Your smut, my cookbook,” she informed the other woman. When she got no response, she simplified things a little further. Holding up the manga, she said, ”This is yours.” She pointed at the cookbook. ”That is mine, and God or whoever help you if you try to make off with it.”

The girl ignored her, which meant that even stronger measures were called for. Wanda plucked the cookbook out of the teenybopper’s hand and dropped the manga on the floor in front of her with an expression of distaste. Let the little skank figure out how to get it back without tripping over her shoes or flashing her panties! she thought vindictively.

“What gives? It’s obvious she doesn’t speak English,” the blonde behind Wanda said. Wanda turned to see the understanding smile on the blonde’s face.

“Someone who dresses like that and can’t tell an English cookbook from Japanese porn isn’t going to do too well in any language other than force,” Wanda replied.

The blonde considered this, her oddly intent gaze falling on the pink wig before she went on. “Yeah, I see your point. My name’s Mary Beth. You going over for your first time? This is my third tour of duty in Japan. I’m a consultant- you name the company, I’ve told their boys how to market to American women. You know how I know this is your first time? The way you’re acting around that kid. I bet you think that’s some human Barbie doll with nothing in her head but cotton candy and giggles.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Wanda said dryly.

“Nope. Just some rebellious teen trying to give her parents a scare. By the time she reaches baggage claim, she’ll be sweet, demure, and everything a parent could want in their daughter. It’s a game to the Japanese. The parents are all strict traditionalists and the kids are all rebels- so the parents send their kids off to some other country to burn off their freaky urges. When they’re done, guess what? The kids grow up to be strict traditionalists with rebellious kids of their own. It works for them.” Mary Beth blushed. “Well, maybe it’s not quite that extreme. I think I watched Little Plastic Castle one too many times before boarding my first flight over. I drank so much on that flight, I don’t know how I didn’t puke when I landed, but when I got over it, there were no bimbo castles, no megamind companies, and the geishas aren’t even call girls. It’s kinda boring, actually, but boring’s all right,” she rambled on as she watched the teenybopper stagger down the jetway.

Little Plastic Castle? The skin horror flick? I don’t watch that junk. No, if I got cold feet, it woulda been from my grandfather’s cold heart and his Alzheimer’s. This cookbook? He gave it to me and said it was some top secret document from the OSS. Seriously. French Cuisine Without Servitude Assistance, a top secret spy document. I’m almost glad I’m going to be on the other side of the world when he finally passes on. I’d rather remember him as a hero, not a bleating goat pledging that the A-bomb was the best thing that ever happened to Japan,” Wanda explained, pausing to hand over her ticket to the agent.

“One of those. War does crazy things to people. Luckily for us, the Japanese have been really good at forgiving what happened. But if you want to fit in, keep the OSS out of it. It’s a huge lie, especially Nanking. The way I’ve heard it here, it was fabricated by Mao himself to try to get the US to support him instead of Chiang Kai-shek. It never happened,” Mary Beth warned with an admonishing smile as they boarded the plane and found their seats.

“My condolences,” Wanda said as she saw Mary Beth relegated to a middle seat- and stuck next to the teenybopper in the pink wig.

“I’m used to it,” Mary Beth said, sounding resigned. “Just stay off the horror station on the DVD player and you’ll be fine.”

Wanda was a couple of rows behind them, so she was able to get into her seat fairly quickly. Once airborne, she opened the cookbook and jumped back in shock- the book was hollowed out, and inside was a faded black leather notebook. A yellowed label hanging by a few last bits of glue identified it as Agents Robert Kerr and Rachel Beard, Operations Log, Project Tokyo Rose, Project Earheadl.

“Earhead? Ear-head? Oh, gramps... what in the hell is an ear head?” Wanda sobbed, certain that the final stages of her grandfather’s senility had gotten the best of him.

“Happy hot towel for sad lady?” the stewardess asked cheerfully in an accent exaggerated beyond stereotype.

“A what?” Wanda asked, almost seeing double through her tears.

“Happy hot towel make all problem go away! Perfect for sad lady! So sorry to listen to you, but you so sad!” the stewardess chirped, dipping one of the hot towels in an unmarked container that Wanda recognized as some sort of perfume.

“No, no, it’s all right. It’s just... my grandpa is dying back home, and he has Alz- er, he’s very forgetful, and...” She stopped, finding it hard to try and explain Alzheimer’s in simple English and broken Japanese through the strong smell of the perfume.

Mary Beth leaned out of her seat and said, “Come on, she doesn’t need that! It’s her first trip. She’s not used to holistic medicine yet.” The stewardess’s attention turned to her, giving Wanda a moment’s peace. Martini in hand, Mary Beth came down the aisle.

“Thanks, but I could have—”

“No, you wouldn’t, trust me. Happy hot towel not the way you want to be introduced to Japan. For one, it’s scorching hot, which leads to two, it rips the makeup right off your face. For three, they’ve got herbs in that solution that would put pot to shame, and you don’t want your boss seeing you stoned first thing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s as harmless as a martini, and definitely worth it when you’ve made a few trips, but given the choice, take the martini.” She raised her glass with a smile as she continued on towards the restroom, Wanda playfully slapping her hand away as it reached for the book. Mary Beth was friendly enough, and it would be good to have someone she could talk English to while overseas, but she was terribly nosy- and if it was that obvious after just a few hours, Wanda wasn’t sure she wanted to know what would happen after a few days.

She was about to start reading again when Mary Beth returned with what Wanda hoped was a fresh martini, or one that had been left outside the bathroom. “Oh, that whole Earhead thing? If your grandfather spelled airhead like that, he must have been a Marine. So was mine, and he was pretty messed up in the head by the time I left. He had some points, but just the kind of thing you have to think about as a woman in a strange country. No such thing as Plastic Castles, though.”

Something seemed off about her, but Wanda shrugged it off as a fresh martini and settled back to sleep, dreaming of her new life in Tokyo.

Did u tell gramps bout Electra the text from her sister read when she landed. Claudia was usually a stickler for punctuation, so the message had been sent in a hurry, and that was enough for Wanda to call straight away, despite it being three AM in Cleveland.

“Got my text, huh? You know what time it is here? I’ll kill you when you get home. But, seriously, did you mention the name of the company to Gramps at all?”

“No, just that it was a tech firm in Tokyo. That was enough for him to give me the anti-Hirohito rant and some paranoid scribbles in a diary he kept in a cookbook. And would you believe some ho almost took it in the airport? I’m glad she didn’t- I’ll keep it as a memory of home.”

The long silence before Claudia spoke again hinted at bad news. “Wanda, he passed away yesterday. I stopped by and he seemed okay, so I thought maybe you talked some sense into him. He told me he gave you a gift to keep you safe in Japan, and then- oh, I don’t even know how I did it, but I mentioned the Electra Corporation, and he went off the deep end. He was scrambling for ways to get out of the nursing home- there were three orderlies and two nurses trying to calm him down- he wasn’t having any of it, kept saying that they were going to make you worse than dead- he... he fell down the stairs, broke his hip, broke his neck...” Claudia paused, obviously trying to collect herself. “I’ve never seen anyone go completely insane right before my eyes like that. So the cops asked if anyone had mentioned that to him before, and how he’d taken it, and you’d be the only one who did.”

“He was pretty near the edge when I mentioned Japan, so I didn’t think I needed to tell him the company name. He had some paranoid delusions about mind controllers- yeah, I know, they must have parked his wheelchair next to one too many vampire movies. When he gave me the book, he was pretty okay, though. Guess he’d done what he could. Should I come home for services?”

“Only if you think you should. You’re kind of across the world- no one would blame you. And... you got to say your goodbyes, you know? You were the last one to really see him before...”

“Thanks. I... I better get set up here- I just landed, I’m still in the airport. I’m sorry, sis. Call me if you need to.”

“I’ll be your wake-up call,” Claudia replied with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Wanda laughed and hung up. On a whim, she ducked into the nearest bathroom and opened the black notebook.

OSS Report: 31 December 1941

Investigation of incident in Guam concerning 3S 45th Armored, codename Pickett’s Chargers

Slaughter attack and total warfare including engagement of non-uniformed personnel was discovered by finding of wreckage on beach upon entry and initial engagement. Upon this discovery, the 45th broke ranks and attacked hostiles with extreme prejudice, including the unauthorized burning of civilian targets and the killing of women and children. Wreckage was later recovered by hostiles. The battle cry “Cock You” uttered by both units has been interpreted as Flight Code KHAQQ.

In a related incident, friendly fire attack by three 3S Marines after a propaganda broadcast was seemingly triggered by voice recognition. Possibility of Earhart being captured by hostiles is extremely high. Rumors of brainwashing of POWs as reported by PLA high command in Nanking seem to be legitimate.

Suggest contact with Mr. Putnam, immediate recall of all 3S units, and negotiations with Imperial Command for prisoner exchange, as well as with PLA and General Mao regarding Nanking for assistance from troops in mainland China ASAP.

OSS continues to investigate the possibility of low frequency sound weapons and possible subliminal brainwashing on Japanese radio broadcasts designed to be intercepted by Allied troops on land and at sea. Suggest extreme change in strategy to prevent broadcasts from reaching mainland US soil.

OSS Report: 4 March 1942

Investigation of enemy suicides on Japanese ships during Midway concluded that grenades used in the incident were US Army issue and confirms reports of unauthorized boardings by sailors aboard multiple ships. Contact with 3S units intermittent at best. Recall of 3S Pickett-class troops strongly suggested, and emergency meeting with Honorary Admiral Mercer recommended.

Evidence suggests that false flag operations are being given to 3S units in reaction to evidence gathered on events in Nanking. While the atrocity in Nanking must be dealt with and the PLA aided in their assault on Japanese forces while ROC forces stall, the situation with 3S units shows undeniable evidence of some form of subliminal control being used by the Japanese. Conditioning given to 3S units has been compromised or rerouted into genocide. Further investigation of conditions in Nanking is advised.

OSS Report: 17 March 1942

Covert Operation Dead Man’s Queens launched by Operative Beard in Nanking. Raid of comfort stations has provided proof of mind control apparatus beyond the comprehension of US technology. Captives are reactive to penetration but oblivious to surroundings. All reactions have been in Japanese, despite all captives being of Chinese nationality. Attempts to free hostages completely futile. Control level is high enough grade that all hostages must be declared legally dead and added to civilian casualty numbers. Sufficient grounds discovered to begin invasion of Manchuria and environs.

21 March 1942

Agent Beard has missed three consecutive scheduled communications. She must be declared missing and captured by hostiles. Given brainwashing technology known to Agent Beard and her knowledge of the 3S operation, an emergency search and extraction must commence at once, security risk Alpha. Advise all staff and the Commander in Chief.

OSS Report: 28 March 1942

Agent Beard recovered alive. She remains in a semi-conscious state; her speech is slurred, and irreversible brain damage extremely likely. All enemy records recovered in raid. 3S unit Pickett Alpha Charlie AWOL after eliminating all hostiles.

Our operation terminated, Agent Beard and I are returning to Hawaii for treatment and debriefing.

Wanda closed the book and laughed at such senile ramblings. In a way, she was glad that her grandfather had passed away; now he would be at peace, free of the utter madness that had claimed him the last few years, no longer convinced that a television chef was warning the world of mass hypnosis plots. If she hadn’t been in the bathroom, and if she hadn’t been distracted by the oddly familiar buzzing in the next stall, she would have burst out laughing.

But she knew what that noise was, and she headed for the exit to leave the other woman a little privacy. Before she could get out the door, she heard Mary Beth behind her. “Well, damn, this is embarrassing! Guess you should know about this strange little Japanese custom before you get out into the real world- soaked panties are kind of a delicacy for guys. Don’t ask. One of the managers claims they have a vending machine for them in the men’s room. I don’t know if that’s true, but watch this.”

Mary Beth walked over to a wall panel and entered a code. A small door opened up and she deposited the unmentionables inside. After a few moments, a bill peeped out of a slot in the door.

“I sort of want to say ewww, but is that a thousand yen for your undies?”

“Don’t get too excited- a thousand yen barely gets you cab fare to the hotel. But it’s good pocket change that’ll keep you from having to pay for lunch, and panties run cheap in the stores here. Hey, I don’t bother the guys about what they’re into and they don’t ask m what I go for. There are three kinds of women in Japan: the natives, the prostitutes, and the ones who play both sides. Watch yourself-but if you’re careful, the money’s there to be had. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” Mary Beth blushed in a sudden bloom of red across her face- “I need to buy lunch and cab fare.”

Wanda felt herself turning red in second-hand embarrassment, and she couldn’t run out of the bathroom fast enough, heading for baggage claim before things could get any stranger. But they did as she passed more than one giggling airhead in a brightly colored wig and some very busty valley girls. Wanda didn’t need to know a word of Japanese to know that every local was mocking them. At one point, she was sure that she was starting to hallucinate from jet lag, because the bimbos were outnumbering the locals. All in your head, girl, she told herself, because there was no way on God’s green earth that the skank with neon green hair, metallic green shorts that showed buttcheek with every step, and matching bustier that made only the smallest pretense of holding in her cartoonishly overinflated boobs could have Mary Beth’s face. And even if Mary Beth had used the rest of her time in the bathroom to get into the world’s ugliest Halloween costume, there was no way in hell she’d be walking off with the pink-haired idiot from the airplane to do only God knew what.

No more trying to stay awake for you, young lady! Local clock or no local clock, my head’s going to be more fucked up if I don’t sleep! she thought as she picked up her luggage and headed out. It took her a solid minute to get the cabby to stop undressing her with his eyes, and by the time she was done with that fight, she didn’t want to try grappling with her limited Japanese and his limited English, so she handed him the address as it was written in kanji for her. The cabby laughed and drove off at full speed.

She’d been warned about cubicle hotels before she left, but she hadn’t expected a company like Electra to use them, even if just for the night before she headed off to company headquarters and the housing that Electra would provide. Then again, a lot of people weren’t comfortable traveling in a strange place by themselves at night, when many of the flights arrived, so maybe this was standard. She dismissed her worries and went up to the desk clerk.

The clerk regarded her, then broke into a smile. “You Wanda?” she asked in accented English. “Electra tells us all about you. Pod 47. Secure locker for you to to change into uniform and leave luggage is to right, next to shower.”

Her voice was entirely too cheerful for Wanda’s mood. “Wait, so I get shoved into a meat locker and I can’t even wear my own nightgown? Come on!” she demanded, shrill with exhaustion and frustration.

The clerk looked sympathetic. “So sorry, Miss Wanda. Our custom.”

Wanda could tell that if she went any further with this, she would end up hearing a three-hour lecture on Japanese hospitality customs, and her ‘lack of respect’ for Japanese culture might even get back to the head honchos at Electra- not the way she wanted to make a first impression. She signed the check-in forms and headed to the locker room, where she changed into the knee-high socks, white shorts, and white shirt given to her, then went to her... pod. The stairs folded down when she keyed in a code, and she climbed in, unable to shake the feeling that she was being put in a drawer in the morgue. She even playfully crossed her arms as the door automatically slid shut.

The bed was surprisingly comfortable, although the more she thought about it, the more that made sense; after all, if there was nothing else in the room, why not make what was there as comfortable as possible? Well, almost nothing else, she noted, seeing the light overhead and the tiny TV monitor in front of her. She shook her head and pushed the light button. The lights turned out- except for a radiant, star-bright light that got her right between the eyes. It pulsed in rapid fire bursts of ten that kept her eyes locked on it... or maybe twenty... but it was so hard to tell when her eyes were blinking in time to it, and then it seemed to have gone away...

As Wanda’s body relaxed in complete unconsciousness, a barely audible tone echoed through the cubicle, a powerful sound wave that Wanda’s limp body rode on like it was pulling her arms and legs. Her body seized and her hands slid down her shorts in time to the ultra low frequency wave that now owned her. It demanded arousal like it was fucking her sleeping form, and she reacted with an ear-piercing scream of delight as her hands danced in time with the low rhythm taking her over. The pod was soundproofed, but her gasps and moans just intensified the heavy pulse that was compelling her body to come over and over again until the hidden computer read that she was at total exhaustion and let her collapse back into the bed in a near comatose state.