Summoning Bad Writing

Chapter 14 - Myrus X F-35 (plane secks!!!!!!)

A/N: yes, this has plane secks in it. I know what you're thinking: but Wablonk, this is a fic satirizing bad NHS fics, why is there Myrus X F-35 smut? And I do not have an adequate answer.

—-

Myrus had much experience being around the organized chaos of Muish airbases, but the constant activity of a Japanese airbase was something he still was to get used to.

He sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair, mug of coffee in his right hand, watching as some men led one of those strange Japanese aircraft across the tarmac. The Japanese ambassador had told him this particular aircraft was called an "F-35".

Myrus took a sip of his coffee, which was still hot. The Japanese made good coffee but made terrible mugs.

It was about time he found out more about these machines, so he set his mug on the ground and began to make his way to the "F-35".

He made notice of a helicopter flying overhead the airbase.

—-

Meanwhile, in that helicopter...

JASDF helicopter pilot Shiba Kazuki carefully piloted his Mitsubishi H-60 over the airbase, but even after releasing both fuel tanks, his helicopter still seemed more slow and sluggish than usual.

"Hey, Satoru, could you jettison something for me? We're still too slow."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, the aphrodisiacs or something? I don't even know why we had those."

"Yeah, sure."

So Satoru then proceeded to carry 10 pounds of an unnamed aphrodisiac from the back of the helicopter and threw them out the side of the helicopter.

The entirety of the jettisoned aphrodisiac would land below in a coffee cup.

—-

""...so this- this multirole fighter, as you call it, you can easily outfit it for many types of combat missions?"

"Correct. It excels in both air superiority and strike missions. It can also perform a variety of other roles including reconnaissance and surveillance, etcetera."

"That's quite amazing, that your nation has seemingly perfected a craft capable of performing so many roles."

"Well, the F-35 was designed and produced in another nation."

"I see."

The Japanese ambassador proceeded to check his watch.

"Ah, I have something I must attend to, but it was my pleasure to converse with you."

"Likewise." Myrus looked back at the F-35 as the Japanese ambassador walked off. The ambassador had told Myrus much about the aircraft. Some concepts, such as "vertical takeoff" were alien to him but were very fascinating. The aircraft in front of him was a technological marvel.

While he was talking with the Japanese ambassador, Myrus had fetched his coffee cup, but he hadn't yet taken a sip. He should drink more of it before it went cold, he thought.

So he put the mug to his lips again, the cold ceramic of the mug contrasting with the warm coffee.

The coffee tasted off. Myrus didn't know how, or why it was odd, but it was different.

It was wrong.

Myrus removed the mug from his lips and stared down at the coffee swirling in the mug. He didn't feel right.

He could feel as his body temperature increased. He felt oh, so hot. And so woozy. And so sweaty.

He needed to sit down. He had no idea what was in that coffee.

He looked back up and saw the F-35. The smooth curves of its fuselage, its open and inviting air intakes, its seemingly delicate wings, accenting the aircraft's beauty.

Myrus wiped some sweat off his forehead before he began walking to the F-35. There was no one around, and he was so unapologetically hard.

With every step he noticed more and more of the fighter jet's sexiness, its neutral but beautiful grays, its perfect paneling, it was the most beautiful aircraft he had ever seen, more beautiful than any woman in Mu, or hell, on this planet.

He practically scrambled onto the right wing of the aircraft. It was a mad dash to unbuckle his uncooperative leather belt and pull down his pants, but he did it in record time. He could already see precum on his rock-hard monster of a dick.

He ran his hand across the wing on the aircraft. God, it was so sexy. He was gonna have some fun.

It took some awkward positioning but he found a way to do it. He carefully began to slide his dick into the air intake positioned on the right side of the aircraft for the heat exchanger. The cold touch of the metal inside the intake was such a nice feeling.

He began to speed up, the feeling of his thighs slapping against the cold hard metal of the fighter was nearly intoxicating. He sped up even more, pushing in with furious vigor and reveling in the euphoria of the intimate act. There was no greater feeling than this; his pumps into the air intake were passionate, more passionate than any other sex he had in his life.

He pumped harder. He could almost hear the F-35 moaning in pleasure as his skin slammed into aluminum.

To anyone else, such an act would be utterly inconceivable, not even acknowledging how uncomfortable it would be. But Myrus didn't care. To someone else, the inside of an F-35 would be too cold, too metallic, too unsexy. But to Myrus, it was warmer and more comfortable than any vagina that has existed, exists currently and will ever exist. Every rhythmic thrust he made with his throbbing, veiny dick felt so thoroughly and wholly exhilarating, so elegant yet so indignant.

He felt as he began to reach a climax. He thrusted harder and harder, as if his life depended on it. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest before a completely cathartic release into the F-35's intake overwhelmed him with joy, euphoria, and elation. The thick, white semen just continued to release as he experienced the orgasm to top all orgasms, an orgasm powerful enough to topple nations and fell gods.

And then Myrus passed out.