Karatica Ch. 00-01

Prologue

With a title as poignant as "The Guru," one may be expecting me to offer you advice. And if the reader has taken a look at the various titles, tags, and descriptors associated with this story, he or she might even make the leap to assume that I'm here to offer advice specifically about various topics of love or romance. But to say that I'm here to offer direct advice is a misdirection at best. It's certainly true that lessons can be learned from the tale that I'm here to tell. But education isn't my primary goal. As "The Guru," my job is simply to tell the story that begs to be told. It's a true story, just like all other stories I tell, though readers will likely find that it is from another universe that runs parallel to theirs. One may notice some similarities among the differences, but the honest likelihood that this story is from any audience member's home universe is zero, when considering the enormity of infinity.

But that's mostly beside the point.

What's important here is that these events once took place in some existence that impacted real people. These events were meaningful and interesting, as will soon be demonstrated. Some of the events were happy. Some were sad. But in some ways, nearly all of them were as sexy and salacious as can truly be put to paper. That's saying something when one considers that I'm sitting here as an interdimensional being with infinite knowledge of all the sexy things that have ever been sexed in the sexy multiverse.

I apologize, I'm teasing at this point.

Allow me to set the scene.

The year is unimportant, and the location is even less so. Some technology will seem advanced while others will be downright primitive. After all, it is a parallel universe and things happened differently there. I point this out so one can accept the fact that things may seem ambiguous and confused if one tries to reference them to his or her own universe and timeline.

In this world, there is a repressive regime known as the New Reformed Puritan League. There is certainly a rich tapestry of history to this organization, but it is obviously the opposite of sexy and fun as evidenced by the title of the organization. This organization (NRPL for short) had grown to a point of near complete global domination, leaving most people repressed, bored, destitute, and largely without hope. NRPL rules with an iron chastity belt, forbidding all forms of touch and emotion while requiring all citizens ascribe to the fashion principle of turtleneck sweaters and loose-fitting jeans being the height of clothing styles. It is truly a grim place.

NRPL gained prominence primarily through establishing orphanages run by monks and nuns, who taught the growing children that chastity was the only way to earn good favor in life and death and that anyone who said otherwise was a villain who deserved nothing but hate. These people never knew love and so forced their hate upon everyone else, making everyone else hateful in turn. As we all know, misery loves company, and so this cycle of anger and hate grew bigger and bigger, until nearly everyone on the planet was so angry and repulsed by one another that they all swore off love and happiness for life.

But, as with any form of free-thinking life form, there were those who obstinately refused to step in line.

It started small with single individuals growing curious within their own homes about what it would be like if they didn't hate everyone else. They asked themselves, "what if we didn't repress those butterflies in our tummies when we saw that girl with the lovely hair, or the boy with straight teeth?" They asked, "what if instead of staying a respectable distance from one another, we sat close enough that our legs touched, or that our shoulders bumped on the crowded train?" Questions like these formed in isolation until, eventually, two questioning individuals found one another and asked the questions together.

Now, believe me, the tale of those first two finally asking the questions is a tale worth telling. One can imagine that the intense emotions felt by two people who were first brave enough to touch shoulders, then hands, then lips, and then genitals was a fast, steamy snowball of a story that started with a nervous glance and ended with two people so sweaty and exhausted that they both missed work for three days afterwards. I mean, honestly, they went nuts, those two. There were hands grabbing balls, dicks, boobs, butts, and everything in between. They had no reference point for what would be considered "vanilla" or "kinky" in most universes, so they put everything in every hole. I'm telling you, it got weird. When I first read that story, I was not prepared for the sheer number of fetishes that I would first learn about, let alone that were covered in total in the bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, and rooftop of that house. Both he and she orgasmed multiple times, and for guys especially that's an impressive feat if we're being honest and not pretending that we're all natural-born porn stars.

I apologize again, I'm getting wound up here. The story of those two is an incredible one and I may one day share it. But for now, they are simply a footnote.

The point is that the resistance started off as silent questions until it erupted like a nuclear bomb. Once those two had become sex crazed animals, it was off to the races. They began seeking out others who would question with them. Orgies were had in secret almost nightly, and they grew and grew. Finally, one day, their numbers were big enough that they all realized that they had to begin to organize if they wanted to keep this movement alive. Much like their orgies, the group at large was fun but chaotic and unfocused.

Mission statements were established, leaders were chosen, and missions were organized. It started small with people essentially just spying on their neighbors to see if they could spot anyone masturbating through a window or waking up with morning wood. If one were to read this and think that this was a violation of privacy, one would be completely right. But this was a matter of love and war, and all is fair in love and war.

Ultimately, though things were a little morally gray, the group grew enough for NRPL to take notice. They established their own counter forces to try and stop the rebels as well as reinforce their puritanical rule. The war was truly on and both sides were determined to win. NRPL leadership wanted to keep their power and would do anything to stop it.

The story I present now is one of two former NRPL members who went on a spectacular journey of reformation to go from two of the most devout puritans ever known, to some of the most effective spies and conversion artists around, teaching countless people about the values of love and human contact. In the end, they were remembered as two of the most influential members of the resistance, known as Karatica.

Chapter One: A Simple Question

I'll start this tale where it really does begin; with Joseph asking his first question.

It's important to understand that Joseph had truly been a perfect member of NRPL. His mother, a fugitive of NRPL who had defied them by getting pregnant the natural way with her boyfriend, was forced to drop Joseph off at one of the many NRPL nurseries run by the NRPL nuns when her boyfriend was captured, and she had nowhere else to go. During her interrogation and subsequent banishment to the Cloistered Isles where criminals were forced to live in solitary wigwams wearing no fewer than five layers of clothing and only speaking through shared hand-written messages to avoid the risk of seductive voices causing unsavory thoughts, she had refused to tell at which nursery she had left her baby. In this way, she can be seen as the catalyst for what Joseph did with his life having set him up as she did.

But she's not part of this story. She had her sex and maybe in some sort of aside or flashback I'll talk about just how depraved she was in bed. For now, though, we return to Joseph.

At thirty-one years old, Joseph had lived a truly pure life in the eyes of NRPL. As a child he had been top of his "Shameful Glare" team and had successfully ratted out no fewer than seventeen classmates whom he had spied holding hands. As a young adult he joined with the "Judge From Afar" troupe and was a locally famous guilt-giver, capable of making anyone ashamed to even be in the same room as another person. It was this notoriety that had helped him be noticed by NRPL leadership and ultimately selected to join the purple-shirted security forces (known as the Purple NRPLs) that protected NRPL leadership on the capital grounds.

Joseph was proud of his position and had dreams of one day rising to the top of the Purple NRPLs to become Director of the Segregated Security Squad, the awfully named military group that strictly kept men and women on separate battlefields to ensure no accidental touching occurred when medical attention was required.

It was of this very dream that Joseph was pondering as he walked his patrol rout one gloomy day. It had been a quiet day, as most of them were. In a puritan and tyrannical regime, citizens are usually hesitant to step out of line. Plus, the capital was deep within the heart of NRPL society, so the Karatica Rebels had yet to truly get a foothold in this area.

Joseph let out a sigh as he continued down the hall, preparing to turn left at the end of it as he had done over two-dozen times already today. If asked, Joseph would always say that he loved his job. But that was small talk, and everyone knew it. Everyone hated work. But that was seen as a good thing as the hate would help demotivate an individual and keep their mind from wandering. The thought was that angry people are never in the mood for sex or any other affection; straight out of the NRPL playbook.

Joseph was more frustrated than usual today as his usual patrol partner, Marianne, was out sick. Joseph half suspected it was her "monthly shame," as he had been trained to call it, but he had made a point to never memorize such things as a woman's bodily schedule as it involved genitals and that was yucky. Even the angry thought of it all made him even angrier, wanting to blame Marianne for being a woman and making him think such impure things.

The anger was festering as he exited the capital building through the side door, leading to the western Chastity Gardens. The gardens were gorgeous and had been installed roughly three years ago in remembrance of Chase Chastity, a renowned member of the Champions for Chastity group, which was a prayer group organized to help pray for a cure for the cancer plaguing Chastity Chase (a famous gardener within the NRPL community). The garden featured a statue of Chase Chastity covered in vines to symbolize his favorite rope chastity coat, which forced him to always keep his hands to himself. Joseph had to admit, despite his bad mood, Chase Chastity's chastity was inspiring.

As Joseph continued along his patrol rout through the gardens, he found himself happy about the overcast weather. It was giving him a slight headache, which helped maintain the sour mood that always impressed his supervisor. There had been rumblings about one of the security chiefs retiring within the next five years so now was the time to start making good impressions.

But as his mind was starting to wander towards the DSSS position again, something unique caught Joseph's attention. On one bush in the corner of the gardens by the fence separating the grounds from the street beyond there was a slight fluttering of something that appeared to be turquoise in color. Thinking that perhaps some hooligan had left a candy wrapper on the street as litter to be blown around and here into the grounds, Joseph began to grumble as he turned to walk towards it. As he walked, a satisfying image of him scolding a child before sending the child away to properly throw the trash in the garbage bin flashed through his head.

As he got closer, though, Joseph began to suspect that this may not have been a plastic piece of garbage. In the first place, as the object fluttered in the wind there was no noise like would normally accompany a fluttering wrapper. In addition, the shape was not right for a wrapper. It was somewhat oblong and far too big for a candy bar.

Suddenly, recognition slapped Joseph in the metaphorical face. This object was no wrapper. It was, strangely, a pair of women's panties.

Now, let's make sure we have a clear picture here. These weren't anything for most people in most universes to write home about. They weren't lacy or see-through panties. They weren't a thong or a g-string, which would have made a sheltered boy like Joseph wonder how women weren't plagued with constant wedgies. These were garden variety panties, sometimes referred to as "granny panties." They were large, loose, a little pilled along the satin from age and use. But nevertheless, they were panties, and, to Joseph, who had never seen such things, may as well have been a naked woman herself for all the strange feelings they sent flooding through him.

Any male readers can attest to the strange sense of excitement and naughtiness that come with the first time he may see panties and understand what they are. Many would probably even recognize the shame that was flashing in Joseph's mind, depending on how sex was viewed within the given childhood household. But for most men this occurs sometime during relative childhood. After all, most boys will, at some point, be forced to walk through the department store underwear racks with their mothers who "only have this one afternoon to get shopping done so you're going to stop complaining and let me get what I need to get!" In Joseph's case, at thirty-one years of age, this was the first time he had ever seen women's panties.

An immediate flush entered Joseph's face as he frantically spun his head from side to side, to see if anyone had seen. A lifetime of mixed messages from NRPL sent him into a mental spiral. On the one hand, if he left the panties alone someone else may find them and know that he hadn't done his job and taken care of it during his patrol. But if he tried to clean them up, he would have to touch them, and if he was spotted touching the panties he might be in serious trouble. Then again, if he asked for help, he may be seen as incompetent, which was the absolute worst thing that could happen if George was going to retire in the next five to ten years, leaving open that DSSS position that Joseph desperately wanted.

Joseph's heart raced and sweat began to bead along his forehead. This was as big of a nightmare as he could ever have imagined. There was no way to handle this gracefully and every anxiety he could possibly have felt was fighting for dominance in his mind.

Finally, an idea entered Joseph's mind. He would grab the panties, shove them in a pocket until he was home and could throw them away there, and never tell anyone what had happened. It was the perfect plan. Nobody would see him with them and nobody else would find them and blame him. He could just report that his day of patrolling was uneventful, and he would be commended for a job well done. Clean and tidy, just like that.

Joseph eyed the panties, sending one final wish into the ether that he might blink, and they would disappear. But, of course, that didn't happen. The panties where there, and he had to deal with them.

Taking a deep breath, Joseph snapped out his hand and gripped the gentle fabric.

His first thought was how soft they were. He had a fleeting thought that they were likely very comfortable. Of course, he immediately shoved the thought away in shame as he rapidly shoved the panties in his pocket. So many impure thoughts today, now currently topped off with a brief thought akin to cross-dressing. A hot shower and maybe a lobotomy sounded quite good to Joseph in that moment.

Joseph fought down a shudder, trying to ignore the thought of what was in his pocket, and quickly walked back to the standard patrol rout. The rest of his shift passed as slowly as ever, with his own desperate wish that everything could just hurry up and return to normal being the only thought on his mind. He felt the wad of fabric pressed tight against his leg by his pants pocket as though it were a massive light bulb that would begin flashing and attract the attention of everyone around. As far as he was concerned, it was an absolute miracle that that, upon clocking out for the day, his supervisor didn't say, "Hey, what's that in your pocket? Looks like you've got something wadded up in there. That wouldn't be some sort of underwear, would it?" But the day did indeed pass and, without hardly believing it, Joseph made it home safely without anyone being any the wiser to the supremely embarrassing and forbidden clothing that he had with him.

As his front door closed, Joseph collapsed on the couch, absolutely exhausted from the day's excitement. He hadn't even taken off his shoes before he fell into a deep sleep on the couch.

For a while, his sleep was heavy and dreamless. A blissful black void of nothingness as his mind and body recouped from the stress of the day. But the emptiness soon gave way to dreams.

The dreams started off normal for Joseph. He was flying on a giant turtle that resembled the childhood pet he'd had named Gulp. He and gulp soared through cotton candy clouds while other people in his life flew past him, shouting how proud they were of him. The nuns from his childhood told him what a well-behaved boy he was. His supervisor told him he was next in line for a big promotion. Everything was perfect in this dream.

That is, until the panties flew by. At first it was fleeting, and he hardly noticed the blue fabric among the blue sky. But they came by for another pass, catching up to him and soon matching his speed. He swatted at them, trying to make them leave as though they were nothing more than a bothersome fly. But they dodged his hand and persisted, eventually wrapping themselves around his hand and holding on tightly.

Joseph shook his hand aggressively, but the blue panties held on tight, slowly crawling up his arm. Joseph tried to call down to Gulp for help. "Gulp! Gulp!" His cries mimicked a poorly written comic of someone panicking and desperately nervous. But as he looked downwards, he realized that Gulp had disappeared, leaving him all alone to float along with the panties. It was moments later that Joseph realized that he was naked as well.

Floating in the sky, naked, Joseph continued to try to fight the panties. He shook his arm, but to no avail as the panties made it to his shoulder. He looked around frantically for anyone or anything that could help. Left. Right. Up. Nothing. When he looked down again, he realized with horror that he had an erection now. He had only gotten them a few times as a child and each time he had dutifully stood in cold water for ten minutes until it passed. But up here, floating along with the attacking panties, here was no water, and he was alone to feel his own throbbing erection and it's persistent need to be rubbed.

The panties continued their migration, crawling up his shoulder towards his head. Joseph tried to scream, but it only came out as a moan. To his greatest surprise, however, it was not a moan of horror, but rather one of pleasure. He opened his mouth again, but only a pleading, "oooaaaahhhh," of ecstasy left. The panties had climbed onto his head, leaving him blinded as they sat there, sending his own moans back into his ears.

Joseph thought to grab the panties and throw them off, but his hands moved on their own down to his cock. One gripped the shaft and started to stroke while the other moved to his testicles and started to gently rub them. Joseph was mortified at first at what he was doing to himself. But in only seconds the pleasure washed over him, leaving him desperate to keep going. He stroked himself faster and faster, thirsting for more of this sensation that he had never felt before. The sparks ran through his body as he felt his own thighs and abdominals start to spasm. He noticed the variety of sensations as his hand touched various parts of his own cock. The shaft was a slow, comfortable pleasure while the tip was a sharp, shocking sort of sensation.