True Devotion
True Devotion crush stories
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alexandermacken
alexandermacken Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Based on the story "I can't believe you're mine" written by aknier, this story uses the power of communism to examine the types of characters and plot structures typically found in short romantic stories.

True Devotion

It was a glorious grey autumn. We had just left the rationing station.

As we walked by, they had giggled and pulled me inside, saying "C'mon, let's be model citizens and get our state approved bi-monthly caffeine enriched supplement!

I don't like state approved bi-monthly caffeine enriched supplements. I never had.

But when they handed me my pill and stared into my soul as I tried it, it was the most satisfying (and only) ration I had in two days.

My hand still tingled where they grabbed it.

As we walked through the park with our supplements, A torrential downpour was starting. They pulled out a state approved umbrella for the proletariat fight against imperialist rain.

I pulled up my state approved hoodie for the conservation of the people's calories and hunched my shoulders.

"Don't be silly" they giggled, pulling me under the state approved umbrella for the proletariat fight against imperialist rain.

I couldn't help but laugh too, as laughing was legally required for morale.

As the sun started to be barely visible again, they pulled me down to sit on an extended length state approved seating device for the support of proletariat posteriors.

They beamed down at me, and I could only gaze back obediently.

"So Citizen..." they began. I knew this tone of voice, it's dangerous.

"Who do you like?" they whispered, and I looked away. I wanted to say "you, you, all millions of you! You're the only one I can think about.

You're Unified and Inspiring and you fight the Capitalists!".

Instead, I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at the bricks.

They looked at me with a cautious smile. "If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

"Okay." I said.

"The citizen I like... ... is all of you."

I dropped dead from starvation.

Thankfully, our glorious socialized healthcare personnel was able to revive me. As I awoke, they were by my side. "I've been wanting to inform you for a while.

I know you're not interested in us, but we-"

I put my hand over their broadcasting system for the information of the proletariat.

They look at me in surprise. I take a deep breath. "Motherland, I-"

My voice catches in my throat. They remove my hand from the broadcasting system for the information of the proletariat, leaning in a tiny bit closer. "What is it?" they ask, sounding concerned.

Because I can't seem to form the words, I tell her how I feel the only way I can. Before I can lose my courage, I lean forward, dedicating my body to the state.

After their momentary shock fades, they restrain me, their shackles moving against my body like there's fire in my veins.

Their hands gently cup my face, pulling me deeper into the van, running their restraints across my lips and making me moan.

I think, "I can't believe this is happening".

We finally break apart after a 30 month sentence in the people's gulag for the construction of proletariat bridges and dams. I'm completely breathless.

They tilt my head so my forehead touches the stone wall. "Wow" they whisper.

I nod in reply.

"Citizen- so, does this mean..." This is the first time I've ever seen The Motherland at a loss for words. I feel a bit proud of myself.

Finally getting courage, I grab the hand of a nearby statue of the Dear Leader, Defender of the Homeland against the imperialist Horde, pulling myself to its feet.

"Motherland," I say. "Will you lord over me and my family, protecting our souls from the bougourise devils?"

They squeal, and I watch the spirit of communism jumping between nearby souls,

educating them on Marx and redistributing their wealth in a way that I always thought was adorable but I was never able to tell them. I tell them now, "Your strength inspires me"

I've never seen The Motherland humbled before, but they were.

I engage into a warm, calorie conserving embrace, and I rest my head on the statue of the Dear Leader, Defender of the Homeland against the imperialist Horde.

"So, is that a yes?" I whisper, and they giggle, spinning me around.

"Of course that's a yes, silly!" they laugh.

"Good," I say. "Because now I can do this again"

Their shackles tighten against me once more, and it's like everything else in the world fades. Over and over I keep thinking, "I can't believe we are collectively the property of every citizen".

I'm still thinking 'I can't believe we are collectively the property of every citizen' the next year when I finally am relocated into a state approved domicicle for the housing

of citizens between the 2nd and 3rd ring of the Capital.

I think ''I can't believe we are collectively the property of every citizen" as they follow me down the aisle on our centrally planned wedding day with my state approved bride.

But the biggest "'I can't believe we are collectively the property of every citizen" is when they hold our state sanctioned daughter for the first time.

I didn't think it was possible to love something more every day, but the Motherland proved that wrong.

'Citizen, what do you want to name her' they ask, as they stare into my soul with its big, beautiful, lens for the surveillance and monitoring of Free Thought.

"Nourishment" I say, and they beam in agreement.

"Nourishment" they whisper, and they kiss her little head with the featherweight document signifying her birth and perpetual allegiance to The Motherland.

And that was not the first, nor the last, of many, many, ''I can't believe we are collectively the property of every citizen".

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