Look at my bae everyone
>>6856331
cute
k
>>6856331
>my bae
But the warthog isn't made by BAE, unlike this sexy beast.
Fine, I'll help
>>6856557
>>6856560
>>6856562
>>6856564
>>6856566
>>6856568
>>6856574
>>6856578
>>6856564
best plane, no contest. that nose is the sexiest object ever made by man.
>>6856579
>>6856582
>>6856587
>>6856589
>>6856592
>>6856595
>>6856598
>>6856599
>>6856603
>>6856589
A Hind-D!?! Colonel, what's a Russian Gunship doing here!?!
>>6856625
It's actually an Hind-F, the twin-barrelled GsH-30K on the side of the fuselage gives it away.
>>6856648
Leave it to /d/ to have a helicopter expert....
That's enough internet for today
No one ever does the F-5E and it makes me sad that I can't draw it myself.
>>6856648
Thanks for killing my hard on, dickface.
>>6856725
You said it sister.
DisneysPlanes.jpg
Some of these pics are legitimately giving me a hardon and I'm not sure how to feel about that.
>>6856656
Leave it to /k/ to fuck everything.
>>6858577
Pretty sure part of every /k/omrade's arsenal is a M-1A1 Abrams body pillow. Warthog isn't even considered best planefu anymore :(
>>6856564
I unironically find the SR-71 Blackbird ridiculously attractive. I'm not talking about an anthro-plane. I'm talking about the real deal. For years now.
I want to see Su-35 doing a hand-job with his thrust vectoring nozzles
For old times sake gonna shitpost a part of historic /d/ story.
“So I'm supposed to fly you? How the fuck do I do that?"
The confused pilot, in his 20s, sat on a crate, opposite the A-10 to which he had been assigned. This particular plane was notorious for going through pilots faster than any other due to 'unexplained mechanical faults' and risky aerial manoeuvres.
"Y'see this?" It turned to its left slightly, showing the mechanical seams on her back, still looking at him, with that predator's grin on its face. "I can make these split apart. You climb in...and then you can take me for a spin, yeah?"
The pilot scratched at his hairline. "There's nowhere near enough room for anyone in there," he stated flatly, pointing at its fuel tanks.
The A-10's grin quickly switched into an irritated frown, and it leaned forwards, jabbing a finger at the pilot causing him to jump, just a little.
"Don't be a dumbshit, okay? They briefed you properly, right?"
The pilot looked on blankly.
"...Right? Ah, fuck." The A-10 maintained the frown, but leaned back and shrugged.
"I'm hollow. Your arms and legs fit into mine, and you see out of...this." It crossed its legs again, leaning forwards and tapping the opaque cockpit. To the pilot, it looked more like a helmet.
"Neural connections let me know what you want to do. No joysticks. At least not in that cockpit." It gave him a patronising glance.
Only to see a look of great, deep thought on the man's face.
"What's wrong?" It hissed in a sultry, earthy tone, leaning forwards. "Scared?"
"Those aren't fuel tanks at all."
It frowned again, but this time, more in utter confusion than anything else.
"I...what?"
"Those." The pilot poked the pliant synthmetal 'fuel tank'. The A-10 jerked backwards.
"Don't do that! They're...er, volatile!"
The pilot crossed his arms. "They're breasts, aren't they."
"N-no..."
"You're a GIRL plane, aren't you?"
The A-10 went through several facial expressions, from 'confused', to 'incredulous', to 'disbelieving', to 'incredibly angry'.
"NO SHIT. NO...SHIT." The A-10 yelled at him, jumping up and shoving him backwards over the crate. "MOTHERFUCKING SHERLOCK EINSTEIN, ARE YOU? Oh my God, how long did it take for you to figure that out?" it yelled, before walking away, head in its hands, muttering, "I've been paired with an idiot...an idiot..." over and over again, until it found the hangar wall, which it started to gently bang its cockpit against. "Of all the pilots...I've had aces, masters of their craft, and now this dipshi-" It froze as it felt a gentle hand run down its back seam, unsealing it with a hydraulic 'hsss'.
"W-what are you-"
"Shh. No words. Only flying now."
After about fifteen seconds of absolutely nothing happening, the A-10 turned around irritably, to see the pilot staring into its back, with the confused expression on his face again.
"Are you fucking teasing me? I-"
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
The pilot reached inside it, poking the object in question, which caused the A-10 to shudder violently and collapse against the wall. "Th...t-that's the fuel intake, dumbass."
"That doesn't look like a fuel intake."
"JUST G-GET THE FUCK IN."
"Can you tell me how the FUCK that happened?" The general shouted over the table, sending the bespectacled techie another half-foot back out of spittle range.
"Er, it might have been paperwork. Or, um, maybe it w-"
"DON'T GIVE ME MAYBES, CARLYLE."
"R-right you are, Sir, the facts are I don't exactly know why he was assigned to her," the techie continued, nervously fidgeting. "B-but another fact is that no matter how you look at it, it makes sense for him to...er...fill her needs."
"It's an IT, not a SHE. When you start assigning gender to artificial intelligence-even if they decide to assign it to themselves, and force people to give them 'upgrades'-it goes WRONG. Every FUCKING time, haven't you seen the reports?" The general continued yelling, gently watering his desk, the papers on it, and the carpet. "IT is an IT until I say OTHERWISE."
"W-well, putting that aside, he seems to have a higher psych rate with her than any of the previous pilots. I-it could have been something to do with the fact they were all, er, female."
This hit a sore spot with the general-this plane was a killer.
It was no secret, on this particular base-its 'kill tally', unofficial of course, rested at ten. It would seem to go fine at first, a few successful test flights after full integration...then one day it would return to base and ask someone to drag the comatose, engine oil-soaked pilot out of it. They were sometimes bruised, sometimes scans showed neural degeneration and brain damage, other times it couldn't be explained. The last one that was 'offered to the beast', as the engineers called it, was completely purple, it was so covered in bruises. The only reasons the A-10 hadn't been decomissioned were the potential advantage it could give, come wartime, and that they were worried about what it would do should it find out about the plan.
The only reason pilots wanted to even bother with it was one of three things-the firepower it presented, the prestiege one would gain from being the one to tame it, or because they were ordered to, like the first few. The current pilot, however, was a mistake. He was supposed to be a pencil-pusher.
"What's that got to do with it, huh? Rather than spout statistics, how about you FIX the problem?"
The techie cringed again. "I, ah, I'm on it, Sir. You can trust me."
The pilot pointed the beretta handgun at the A-10, which continued giving him an disinterested frown. Due to the noticable lack of lips, it always seemed as if it was grinning or frowning.
"Please, don't make me do this."
"It's what I want. Hurry the fuck up and get over with it."
The pilot moved his aim from its general chest area to its head, calmly and smoothly tightening his finger on the trigger. "Well, okay."
"Wait, n-"
The handgun fired, the 9x19 parabellum round slamming into its head at around 380 metres per second, sending it jerking back and bouncing off the wall of the hangar with a hollow 'clunk'. It staggered and caught itself on the wall as the pilot put the gun's safety back on.
"You STUPID MOTHERFUCKER. HAVE YOU NEVER FIRED A GUN BEFORE? EVER?" Its head flicked back forward, as the gunshot's echo bounced around the hangar. "DON'T FUCKING AIM FOR THE HEAD, AIM FOR CENTRE, OF, MASS. DID YOU WANT TO DAMAGE MY SENSORS YOU DUMB SHIT?"
The pilot opened his mouth before being interrupted again.
"I SAID, AIM FOR HERE. CHEST LEVEL. God." The A-10 snatched the gun out of the pilot's hands and leaned into his face, violently violating his personal space, frowning.
"I just thought..."
"YOU THOUGHT WRONG. WROOOOONG. Not that it matters," the A-10 replied.
Crossing its arms triumphantly, the A-10 announced: "I'm rated virtually immune to small arms fire, and stand a good chance against most rifles, too."
The pilot suddenly leaned forwards, almost touching noses with the A-10, who held its ground.
"A-10, I...I think I dented you."
"You WHAT? I'M G-"
The pilot, surprisingly quickly, grabbed the A-10's nose, rubbing at the little scratch just above its right eye. It was too surprised to do anything other than blink and stammer for a few seconds.
"...W-what are you doing?"
"Yeah, I scratched your paint. Here." The pilot rubbed the scratch with his thumb, looking worried.
"S-stop that." Even though it asked, the A-10 made no move to escape. "It..."
"Do you know your paint number? Shit, I'm going to get into so much trouble for this." The pilot turned its head up to the light, in order to see the damage. The A-10's head whirred softly as the pilot continued checking it for damage.
"You're alright though, right?"
The A-10 didn't answer until the pilot stopped rubbing the scratch.
"Uhn? Oh, uh...yeah, I'm okay..."
The pilot released his hold on the A-10's head, rubbing at his eyes and walking towards and out the door, leaving it whirring and leaning forwards slightly, one hand half-raised, the other limp by its side, a vacant look on its face. "I'm going to have to sneak in and take some. What am I going to put on the form? 'Paint number X, one pot, due to shooting my plane in the forehead with its own gun. Oh yeah, it totally made me do it.' Argh."
When the pilot left the hangar, he was busy trying to think of a cover story-so he did not see the man behind the hangar walk inside, carefully closing the door behind him.
The A-10 looked up when it heard the door closed, still standing, touching the scratch. It took it a couple of seconds to realize that it wasn't the pilot.
“Whohe hell are you?”
Oh, we've met before. You just don't remember it."
A-10's reply of "Wha-" was cut off as the man pressed a button on the remote, causing it to suddenly spasm, holding its head, screaming, for a few seconds before suddenly going limp and unresponsive. The man walks up to the A-10, pulling on latex doctor's gloves before gently tilting its head up and looking into its empty eyes.
He let the head drop and ran a hand down its chassis, tilting the left turbine towards him and peering inside, before moving on to its head. He pried its mouth open, looking inside, before running a tender hand over, then reaching between the legitimately sharp teeth and examining its Avenger cannon, gently running a hand down the top. "One day we will be together, my sweet...and I won't let anyone harm you until then, none of these incompetent pilots and least of all a desk clerk."
He ran his hands down the seam in the back, but it didn't open-a side effect to the 'maintenance' mode his specialized PDA put it in. Originally intended to dull any pain the A-10 would experience if it needed to be repaired after heavy battle damage, it was proven completely useless once it expressed an almost masochistic streak, once claiming that, "I've fucked gravity and made Newton my bitch, pain is fucking nothing." Carlyle was one of the only people who remembered this function.
He gently set the A-10 down near the wall, running a hand over its cockpit-he knew it loved that, even though it wouldn't remember any of this, nor before-and stood up, walking away.
"I'll see to that myself," the techie muttered to himself.
A-10 was woken by happy whistling and the sound of metal being scraped across concrete. The pilot was in the process of hauling a sturdy-looking metal bed through the hangar, to join the lamp, table, chairs, and two litre pot of paint in the corner. The A-10, after about ten minutes of just watching him slowly, laboriously pushing the bed across the hanger, stood up, and walked over. The pilot stopped pushing the bed and stretched his back
"G'mornin', A-10."
"What the fuck are you doing," A-10 rasped drowsily. "What are you doing in my hangar. Why are you ...what is all this stuff? Why so early?"
The pilot laughed and went back to grating the bed across the floor. "I'm moving in."
A-10 put its hand on the end of the bed, stopping it flat. A-10 was incredibly strong, despite its light frame. "No you're not."
"Why not?"
"Because this is MY space. I like my privacy. You do not get to live in my private space and put your human fat everywhere."
The pilot tilted his head back and forth before attempting to shift the bed again. "Well, I'm going to spend most of my time inside you, once training is over. I don't really see the difference."
A-10 was struck silent for all of two seconds, before it released the bed, causing the pilot to slide forwards at a rapid pace, almost falling on his face.
"W-wait, what are you going to do o-" A-10 was cut off, again, as he slowly reached up to its cheek, and started rubbing the side of its head with a sheet of soft-grain sandpaper. "Ow geez fuck what are you doing a-ah stop fuck."
"Oh, good, you regenerated the dent. Yeah, I want to get a smooth finish. Nothing's uglier than an uneven coat of paint." The pilot held the A-10's head in place as he gently rubbed the flecks of paint away from the 'wound'. The A-10 frowned mightily, but held still and fiddled with one of its turbines.
"Y-you know, one of the engineers should be doing this..."
"I'm your pilot, I should take care of you. Having other people to do things for you isn't an excuse to avoid doing it yourself. Besides, I like painting. I used to paint aeroplane models as a kid. Still do, when I get the chance."
The pilot dipped the brush in the pot, and started to paint on the A-10s face.
"A-ah...are you sure you have the r-right colour? I...I never told you my paint code."
"Nah, I've got it." He held the paint pot's lid up in front of her face. The A-10 held its own hand up beside the lid, turning it over a few times and blinking as it realized that the shades of grey were exactly the same. It jumped a little when he took the hand and placed it back on her lap.
"I don't want you getting paint over your camo pattern, it'll ruin it." He continued lightly applying the paint to her face as the A-10 became more quiet and even more fidgety.
After a few minutes of painting, the pilot's tongue sticking out of his mouth in silent concentration, the A-10 suddenly grabbed the paintbrush, tossing it across the hangar and forcing the pilot down onto his bed with an "urk". The A-10 pressed down on the pilot, one hand on his shoulder and the other roughly attempting to un-zip his button up shirt.
"Uh...what are you trying to do?"
A-10 jerked downwards, eye-to-eye-shaped-sensor-array with the pilot. "You're...ah...my pilot, dumbass. I've decided that you're a keeper, you know? We should get to...know each other a little more intimately, right?" The A-10 grined at him, with a feral, manic grin plastered across its nosecone.
"Absolutely not."
The A-10 jerked to a halt.
"WHAT."
"We've got to let that dry first, or it'll smudge all over your nice ABU."
"OH MY GOD, SCREW THE PAINT. THAT CAN COME LATER." The A-10 grew frustrated with the complex mechanics of the button, preferring to just tear the shirt off him in a display of strength. "YOU COME SOONER."
The pilot seemed to approach it in a vaguely logical manner, which was commendable considering that there was a highly advanced weapon of mass destruction with very large breasts pressing into his chest and currently attempting to sunder his pants in the same manner as his poor shirt.
"I'm your pilot, though. Shouldn't I take the lead?"
A-10 was stunned, momentarily freezing up-enough time for the pilot to roll it over, himself on top now. The bed let out a tortured noise as its poor, aged frame took another hit. He climbed off the bed, tracing one finger up the A-10's neck and across her cockpit, before sprinting for the hangar door.
"OH NO YOU FUCKING DO NOT GET BACK HERE," the A-10 commented, leaping up and engaging its turbines, rocketing towards the man's back, as he closed the hangar's door. "Oh," it commented, before doing almost a backflip in midair, engaging its turbines on full speed, bringing itself to a stop directly in front of the visibly worried man. The momentary silence revealed a dripping noise, which the pilot noticed as an oil leak, in between the two main turbines.
"You'd best lock that, pilot. I don't want to be disturbed." It grabbed him and forced him against the wall, pulling down his pants.
The pilot sighed and pointed to its face. "The paint's already smudged..."
"Oh, shut up about the paint," the A-10 replied, pulling his pants down and pulling him into an embrace, warm fleshy arms wrapped around its back while its cool arms wrapped around his neck and pulled his lips to meet hers.
The pilot tasted a metallic, clean tang with a hint of gunpowder as he hoised the A-10 into his arms and carried it back to the bed. The A-10 closed its own eyes and tasted the strange combination of chemicals that humans used as intake lubricant. It decided that it was not unpleasant.
It disengaged from the kiss, smiling-not coyly grinning for once, warmly smiling-at the pilot. "I'd...do you have anything to plug that leak?"
[anyone reading out there?]
It was the pilot's turn to grin. "You talk too much."
He ran his hands up the back of its neck, pushing himself into the machine's auxilliary exhaust. The A-10 moaned, eyes closed, its turbines intermittently clacking against their housings. "A-ah...it's...it's deeper, pilot."
The pilot stroked his hand over her eye, slowly adjusting the 'plug' back out, then thrusting it in with a wet 'shlock'. The A-10's landing wheels whirred in surprise, before it engaged the emergency brakes. "A-ah! It's...it's getting bigger?" The A-10 opened its eyes in surprise, desperately clutching the pilot to it. "HARDER. NOW."
The pilot complied, thrusting harder...then teasingly pulling it back out, slowly. "I...have to get it aligned...haah."
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFUCKING TEAAAAAAAASE," the A-10 hoarsely shouted as he jammed it back in, the synth-metal tubing spasming, almost pulling on his plug. He complied, pushing it in and out in an almost hydraulic fashion as the A-10 moaned and writhed.
"Hng...I'm going to...come," the pilot stated, matter of factly. The A-10's eyes were wide and glazed over in ecstacy, her mouth open, panting.
"I...ah....ahhha...I'm going to..."
Both came at the same time, the pilot grunting and holding the A-10 close. The A-10 tilted its head back, gasped, and said "BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT," filling the air with around three hundred depeleted uranium shells in the space of four seconds, punching a new skylight into the hangar. The loud climax echoed around the hangar slowly fading, until the only sounds left are of the gasping pilot and the A-10, going, "Oh God. Oh God I'm so sorry I didn't think I mean I've never-"
captchas doing my head in, if you want to read more, just a google search should do.
Have a nice night all.
>>6858993
>reading out there?]
I like it keep going
>>6858993
Yeah I'm not usually into this stuff, I come on /d/ for a laugh, and this tthread for a laugh, but I've got a semi-erection now.
>>6858995
>“So I'm supposed to fly you? How the fuck do I do that?"
googled it thx, great read 10/10
>>6856564
My sides.
Furries on /d/? It's more likely than you think.
>>6858954
u ever see footage of the nozzles contracting? sorta looks like a puckering ass hole. :D
anyone alerted /k/ that were doing this again? I mean, come on, lets invite them.
Just gonna leave this here...
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW4ejzMa-jU
>>6856578
>it pulls his hair
This artist is going places
you forgot a couple..
>>6859234
I started choking on my food. Thanks for that.
>>6859519
Aha, I see what you did there! The flight capabilities are also a big draw for me. It would be such a beautiful view from such a beautiful machine. There really isn't anything quite like it, before or since.
easy way to enjoy your plane.
>>6856957
What's the specific model? I'll give it a shot.
>>6856331
Sauce of these? There's one artist who does it REALLY well... but it's not been posted. I specifically remember a fully colored very busty thunderbird
Can masturbating to weapons in non-humanoid form count as alternative enough to have its' own thread?
>>6865550
This one? I can some post more if people want
Source at: http://wsache007.deviantart.com/
(Note: artist also does furry)
>>6858514
Trust in your why-boner!
Okay, so I accept this as a fetish. My question is how do people with this fetish reconcile the fact that metal isn't the best material to rub your dong up against? Does that question cross the minds of those with this fetish at any point? Just curiosity here. Not judging because I have absolutely no room to do that.
>>6859695
It's a shame for me that the artist draws these aircraft incredibly well... And then proceeds to make it into pornography.
>>6866995
Short answer: Pic related.
Long answer: Usually in the case of the more humanoid ones, it's not depicted as being metal per se, rather some sort of flexible, pseudo-metallic skin. The jury's still out as to what exactly the non-humanoid ones' bodies are made out of, but most artists draw their "naughty bits" as being similar to that mentioned above.
>>6856331
>>6856331
look what i did
>>6862790
F-5E Tiger II
>>6858975
>"Those aren't fuel tanks at all."
I remember when this was a thing on /d/, before mods cracked down on it. The only surviving history of that thread is in this youtube video
https://youtu.be/Oi4Ty4XaWWM
And those copyright reporting pieces of shit abusers caused it to be blocked in my country.
>>6870398
And another angle
>>6858921
If they get off on some Russian or Chinese pile of junk, then fine. I, personally, will always adore the A-10 alongside the F-22.
That waste of cash F-35 can find a nice junkyard to rust in.
Sorry, i'm not into planes. I currently identify as an attack helicopter, and dream of dropping my hot stick y load from above onto masses of people below...
>>6870760
jesus fucking christ what is this, reddit?
>>6856564
I can't read this without starscreams voice
>>6856578
>slap slap slap
fucking hell my sides
It should be:clank clank clank
>>6866087
>>6867026
The non-anthro ones are basically tentacle monsters crammed into more interesting bodies.
I really like the setting Ratbat has made for her porn even more than the porn itself...
>>6870858
I guess I should post the page with a plane since this is a planes thread, not a tanks one...
>>6872778
>Bomber Mafia
what?
Nothing to boot sorry, but anyone got any satellite porn?
>>6870386
But I brrtt from there.
>>6872985
Second. Also docking would make me diamonds.
>>6870724
>If they get off on some Russian or Chinese pile of junk,
>Not wanting to liberate some commies with your dick
kys
>>6870742
>you will never crash this plane with no survivors
>>6866986
>me262
>black red yellow
come on now
>>6873614
>>6872985
>Source at: http://astro.booru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list
>>6873614
>>6872982
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bomber_Mafia
>>6875798
Oh boy, this is hot
>>6874926
>If they get off on some Russian or Chinese pile of junk
>Russian or Chinese pile of junk
>Russian junk
>junk
>2016
M8.
>>6875800
Ah neat.
>>6875798
I want a metal interlocking penis to try out.
>Comes to /d/ to fap
>Finds this
>Contemplates what mankind has come to when fetishes once considered depraved are now so mundane to the common man that they have to invent entirely new and incredibly raunchy things to get off
>Faps
>>6875798
>>6875828
You mean the 12-plane prototype run that's having trouble even flying?
>>6870398
Damn these ones are sexy. Only like $4 million to buy one used... Goals...
>>6873614
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_6bIv9F65U
>>6856331
3D planes? No thanks, I'll stick with 2D
brrrrrrt
Were can I find more of these plane storys
