In a world where dragons and planes both shared the sky, there would inevitably be conflict.  Even greater the chance of conflict came when the planes had grown sentience, through hundreds of years of nanomachine-based evolution that made them faster, sharper, and smarter than the organic beasts that had lived millions of years before them.
In this new world, the dreaded armies of what were known as "Dires" began their conquest over the sky, forcing dragons to far-away isles across the seas as they bombed, razed and even gunned down their foes over the continents.  At first, it began as a scuffle between tribes, a few misunderstandings and some admittedly arrogant claims of the dragons to relegate some regions to the Dires.
But it didn't take long for the machines to realise they more than outmatched the dragons, who had a variety of magic such as flame and frost, but the hardened steel and furious speed of these jet-fighting brutes were soon discovered at a terrible price.  So the world became trapped in conflict, which was increasingly becoming one-sided with every month that pushed the dragons further and further back to isolation.
Not all the dragons were slaughtered, at least not yet.  Some of the Dires had taken the weaker charges to treat as pets, or slaves to be more precise in helping to clean their chassis and oil their joints, like a personal harem of soon-to-be-obedient beasts.  The age of organics was coming to a close, and all of them knew it.
In one of the old cities, that dragons used to roam, buildings had been carved out and converted into hangars, office spaces widened and bungalows knocked through for planes to move in and out of, skeletal remains of former homes where photographs, beloved toys and children's cribs had been crushed beneath the wheels until rubble remained.
	"Haaaah...hey, fireboy, wake up!"
A long tendril of steel slapped a black dragon awake.
	"Gotta clean me before the next run."
	"Y-yes, master."
Fyrre was unfortunate enough to be one of the Dires' pets, for at this point death would be a better option than having to witness the massacres his master performed every fun.  With white horns, golden eyes and two deep surgical scars across his bare wingless back, he shuffled over towards the plane that now owned him, according to the tech-collar that shimmered steel around his neck.
The plane who now sat in Fyrre's former house which had been gouged open to form a makeshift hangar, was named Vargas for the oddly pinkish-colouring across his steel form.  A sharp-nosed beast with a glass cockpit that now sat empty and permanently sealed, the soft whine of burner jets rumbled beneath its wings that flexed its flaps with a hard creak, the words LOVE MACHINE spraypainted on its sides.
The Dire's eyes sat beneath the cockpit on either side, a long jagged row of teeth under his nose that smiled cruelly upon his pet.  The jet was twice the size and height of Fyrre, rolling on his three wheels as a pair of thin skeletal hands formed from wires slipped out of the landing gear.  The fingers caressed the dragon who cringed with a whimpering, tickling under his snout as he fidgeted.
	"I found a nice little isle of you organics out there...time to put an end to them dontcha think?"
	"Yes master," Fyrre bowed, "I think so too."
	"Get my weapons ready...then my big gun needs oiling."
In another set of rooms, the dragon wandered over to find an arsenal of missiles that were propped against the walls, as well as several bombs that he would carry carefully in one arm back to the plane and load under the wings.  The bombs Vargas would take inside a hatch in his belly, a loading arm pulling them in with a heavy thunk until he was fully kitted with eight of each.
	"Good...that should do enough for the whole isle, now gimme a li'l boost."
Vargas pulled Fyrre by the neck towards his underside.
	"Get to it, time's ticking."
	"Y-yes...master."
The dragon pushed his nose towards a bulge between the rear wheels, something that was oddly fleshy in its design as he breathed on it thickly and gave a long dragging lick across the steel.  It had no flavour, cold and lifeless on his tongue as he nuzzled and lapped across the growing bulge that made Vargas shudder with a growing bliss.
It did not take long for the Dire to produce a thick throbbing dick, a mockery of those who first created his kind as it resembled a fat human cock with its bulbous length and shrooming head.  The only difference was that it was formed from flesh, but rather from steel plates on a connecting rubber sleeve that telescoped out in a hissing clack towards the dragon's face.
	"Ohhhh yeah...you fucking skyrats know how to please a jet huh?"
	"Yes, master," Fyrre whimpered licking the cold tip, "your cock is so...beautiful."
	"Heheh...it's the best thing you'll ever see in your damn life until I'm done with you.  Maybe today's the day you join the rest of your fucking hive."
His slender hand patted Fyrre's head, before pushing the drake to swallow the Dire cock and suck on the cool steel with a gulping moan.  The worst part wasn't the taste of the dick, but the pre inside that already was forming in a drizzling of black across his tongue.  Oil from the machine dripped thickly into his throat, bitter like the worst medicine as Fyrre stifled his disgust, and swallowed deeper on the pulsing length.
The quicker he could please Vargas, the sooner it would be over as the drake put all his strength into his tongue with swirling scrapes and sucking clench that squeezed the dick into his gullet.  The Dire rolled forwards on his wheels to push deeper inside and choke the dragon, coughing sputters and whimpering moans from the flightless beast who flexed his shoulders in instinctive discomfort.
That only made him sadder, feeling the phantom limbs of where his wings had been nothing more than two stumps of muscle that hooked from his back.  He swallowed more of the oil, forcing himself to swallow every drop of the thick chemical fluid that burned like fatty grease.
	"Haaaah...alright, time to fly."
The jet pulled out with a spurt of oil on Fyrre's face, hot and sticky enough to burn a mammal, but not quite a dragon as the Dire gripped the whelp's head.
	"Get ready for docking bitch.  Daddy's ready to smell that napalm in the morning."
A shudder ran through Fyrre as he turned and lifted up his rear towards the thick creaking shaft.  His tail raised high with a shameful look as his hole had been well stretched from previous sessions, accepting through subservience as the Dire held the drake's body in his spindly fingers.  The wheels trundled forth as he pushed his cock inside Fyrre, groaning at the hot reptilian body that sucked round his glossy head.
With a firm grind of the dragon's sphincter, the jet felt his walls spread wider apart in a shuddering of his folds, the drake panting with a soft whimper as his tunnel gaped that little bit further to take the unbending shaft.  It hooked slightly upwards, burying deep into the dragon's bowels with a painful twist as Fyrre gasped in a clenching whine.
It was still painful no matter how many times he took it, spreading his legs wide until his hips quivered to the point of breaking.  Fyrre imagined this was how it felt laying an egg, this solid force gaping him hard with a squealing pant as another few tears formed in his well-abused walls.
	"Fuuuuck yes," the plane hissed.  "You organic bitches are the best, so hot on my dick it's like flying over the desert."
	"A-AAAH, HAAAH!  NNNGH, th-thank you, AAAH, thank you m-master!"
	"Mmmmhhh yeah you're gonna be a good hangarbitch?"
	"Yes, y-yes, AAAH!"
Pushing through the pain, Fyrre shoved himself back to hilt the last few inches into his rear, a cold lump in his belly that formed a bulge in the vague shape of the jet's fiendish dick.  The wiry hands pulled Fyrre up against his chassis and bound him tightly against his belly, turning out of the house and through the gaping front to roll onto the street.
The sky was full of other jets zipping back and forth, calling out to each other, performing aerial moves and clogging up the sky with a thickening cloud of putrid fumes.  Their exhaust was ripping the ozone apart, which to Fyrre turned the world that little bit hotter in the past year or so, but to the Dires it didn't matter.  There were less trees than usual, less plants, less animals, the world slowly consumed by the shrieking howl of jet planes taking over the land.
	"HOLD ON TIGHT LITTLE BITCH, DADDY'S COMING HOME!"
Blasting his thrusters he tore down the road and lifted off into the sky, mocking Fyrre with the feeling of flight he would never have again.  At a much faster pace, the drake couldn't even imagine the shocking speeds that ripped across his scales from the furious shriek of Vargas's engine.  Other Dires also flew nearby, their own slaves in holding, wrapped under the carriage to be fucked and used.
In the space of an hour, keeping himself hard inside his pet with a mix of superior engineering and excitable lust, Vargas found a small island all on its lonesome, too small to be found on any maps.  He had scouted it in his spare time, and could barely stop himself from bombing it right there and then for himself.
A beautiful place in the midst of the ocean, unspoilt as of yet by the Dires where a good few hundred dragons were hiding.  Towns carved from stone dotted the landscape, a small mountain had a warm set of caves where mothers flew back and forth hiding their nests within the depths.  Some forests dotted the pleasant isle where families of dragons went to picnic and cajole, playing soft instruments and eating roasted foods.
	"Look at them," Vargas snickered, "all you fucking skyrats just given up to stay on the ground where you belong."
	"D-do...do we have to?" Fyrre whimpered.
	"This isn't your world anymore little bitch.  We're the real masters, steel stronger than flesh, you know that.  Not like they're gonna hear you.  All you're good for right now, Fyrre, is for being my personal cockwarmer when I exterminate your fucking kind."
The dragon a year ago would have called out for help, warned his kind to flee and escape for another day.  But not this time.  Fyrre was broken, less than a dragon could be anymore, as he knew the Dire was right.  He hung underneath the plane like a personal ornament, strapped and hilted to the metal cock as he gasped with tears trying to look away from the destruction about to happen.
But Vargas would force him to watch, a thin hand grabbing the drake's jaw with long thinner wires reaching out the fingers to hook his eyelids.  Pulling them open carefully, Fyrre shivered with a whimpering sob as the plane flew in low towards the first town of dragons.  A missile came screeching towards the largest cluster of houses, blasting five of them apart and killing a few dozen as dragons shrieked in a panic.
The bombing run began as the meagre population tried to scatter.  Those who flew in the sky were immediately targeted by a chaingun slowly stretching out of the jet's mouth, a long black barrel that revved up with a devastating tear of bullets across the sky that ripped through their wings, shredded their legs and popped their skulls into bloody festoons.
	"THIS IS MY SKY NOW YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKERS, HAVE ANOTHER GIFT FROM THE SUPERIOR RACE!"
Dropping a heavy bomb into the central square, seventeen houses were obliterated in the shocking burst of a hefty ordnance explosion.  Those in the immediate circle were turned to ashes, and they were the lucky ones to suffer the least.  The dragons on the outer rim would find their wings being ripped off, their legs blasted to smithereens and their eyes melt from the sheer heat that blackened the earth and folded walls like wet cardboard.
The sound of sobbing screams rent the air as children wandered blind through the streets with their heads burning black, stumbling over their parents' corpses without even knowing, the old and feeble taken aim with the chaingun to be ravaged apart.  Easy pickings for Vargas as he tore across the settlements with precise and brutal targeting, choosing the largest cluster to exterminate.
Throughout all this, the jet had his hands pushing Fyrre down on his cock, fucking him mid-flight as he rolled and spun across the lands that he blasted and gunned with rippling shudders of bullets pipping through the windows and cracking the walls.  A school had its roof ripped off with the heads of children smeared on the desks, a house crumbled from one bullet too many at the foundations trapping the family inside to suffocate together.
	"Hear that?" groaned Vargas.  "That's the sound of the sky clearing up of you filth.  Howsit feel on my lance you fucking cocksock?"
	"Ha-aaah, AAAH, M-master, MASTER, m-more, please, f-fuck me more!"
	"Mmmmmph, you know just what to say, tell me then.  Tell me you want your kind gone."
	"I-i...GUH, I...haah, h-hurts!"
To all the survivors left in the colony, they would watch one of their own kind being ravaged by the superior jet who hovered above them in taunting glee, the black drake slammed down onto the pulsing metal shaft that stretched his hips wide and formed a luscious bulge grinding back and forth.  His prostate was also being subjugated, the grinding scrape of the steel pole making the dragon shamelessly throb out from his own slit, a pair of pulsing purple cocks spraying pre onto the land and upon his own kind.
	"HAAAAH!  A-AAAAGH!"
	"SAY IT YOU FUCKING SKYRAT!" roared the jet above his thrusters.  "TELL THEM WHERE YOU FUCKING BELONG!"
	"I-I...I BELONG TO YOU, M-MASTER, AAAAGH, I'M A SKYRAT, A F-F-FILTHY SKYRAT WHO ALL SH-SHOULD BE WIPED OUT!"
	"NNNNGH, FUCK YES!  YOU HEAR THAT, CUNTS?!  NOW IT'S TIME FOR THE CLEANSING!"
Wracked between guilt and pain, the dragon slave was nothing more than a toy for the Dire of destruction, as Vargas made certain the dragons below would bear witness to the fate of their kind, with Fyrre's belly turning heavier of the oily pre building up inside.  During all of this, any dragons who dared try to fly, were picked off with frightening precision to pop and fall like balloons.
In the space of only five minutes, half the population was destroyed.  The bombs flew with a whistling drop, blasting chunks of the isle and throwing bodies up high to hit other dragons in their escape, showered with debris and corpseflesh from their neighbours and loved ones that would weigh them down in to Vargas's sights.
Machinegun fire filled the air, as one by one the drakes were picked off like insects.  All to Fyrre's eyes as he wept in seething fear and disgust, from the fattening cock bulging his gut even heavier with the Dire's arousal.  Much to his howling dismay, the dragon slave found himself cumming after enough punching slams of the crushing silver length that impaled him so thick.  Over the ashes of his kind he would cum, smothering their burnt faces and their sizzling corpses.
His tightening clench made his master cum in turn, a sound of screeching fury burning the air as he blasted a hot wat of molten oil deep in the drake's belly.  Fyrre's only blessing was that his draconic anatomy kept the oil inside, resisting the burning liquid that felt uncomfortably thick and heavy like treacle in his gut.  His stomach swelled even further with a gurgling shudder, some of the black cum dripping out of his throat in a retching cough that spat on the ground and sizzled through the dirt.
	"Mmmmmph, haaaah...ohhhh f-fuck you good little bitch," the jet fighter sighed, "alright...let's finish the rest of 'em."
By the next ten minutes, the other half of the populace would be erased from the island.  The forest was set alight, as the families who thought to hide amongst the trees or in smaller caves would be incinerated by the sheer heat, or blown to pieces by the carpet-bombing run that ripped through the land, and split a black canyon through an ashen waste of smoking tree stumps.
All of his missiles were spent, and the bombs became smoking craters upon every little village that had scattered throughout the isle.  The last few dragons they both saw in the sky would be shot down clean as bullets ripped through wings and skulls, sending more corpses down into the sea where thousands of winged skeletons also laid from the wars.
Everything was quiet, and Vargas with his cock still buried deep inside his pet, was about to return home with his duty done.  Then he heard something, faint in his sensors.  A soft mewling cry from the mountain, the unmistakeable sound of hatchlings as he grinned making a swooping turn.
	"Almost forgot, you little fuckwhores do that breeding thing huh?  Disgusting, can't even replicate yourselves to perfection like us Dires."
	"H-haaah...m-m-master?" Fyrre choked on the oil.  "Sh-should we...should we not go back-HRRKH?"
	"Did you forget who fucking WON the war?!"
The savage fighter pulled his thin cable arms round Fyrre's throat, strangling him hard with a shivering gasp that turned to a scream.
	"You don't get to suggest, or even THINK anything I don't want you to, you fuck-skinned cunt.  We're not done, until every one of you is gone and erased."
The jet hovered over towards the mountain cave, the sound of bawling hatchlings turning louder as Fyrre shook with a heaving cough from the wires tightening round his neck.  Vargas released his grip as he lowered his eyeline to where the largest clutch of eggs and newborns remained as the last ebb of life on this island.  Dozens of them gathered in nests of stones with flameproof blankets, small pudgy reptilians with tiny wings and waddly feet.
	"Ohhhh...damn," Vargas shivered, "and it's not even my buildday."
	"N-nnngh, haaah!" Fyrre struggled still impaled.  "Th-they...they won't do anything m-master, they'll die on their own."
	"Nah, a Dire always makes sure."
He turned himself round as his burners kept revving, keeping his body aloft as he reversed the airflow in his powerful jets causing a sudden intake of oxygen.  A violent wind shrieked through the tunnels, the black rectangular holes in the back of Vargas sucking up the stones and soon the eggs.
The unhatched infants were smashed against the sides of the exhaust, shattering to a dozen pieces with their soft bones and gooey innards smeared like yolk across the tailfin of the jet.  A few of the eggs disappeared whole inside of him, the sound of crunching bone and crackling shell being silenced by the screeching burst of jet engine that fumed a vicious heat into the cave.
Those who were not sucked up inside would burn in shrieking agony, infants roasted at a temperature far too hot for their frail bodies as the fat from their bellies began to bubble and pop.  Their legs and wings too soft to escape, they were roasted alive as the cavern turned to an oven, their eyes dripping from their skulls and their stomachs bursting out their chests with a screeching pop of their lungs.
Their corpses too would be dragged into the steaming exhaust, the snapping of their necks and the cracking of ribs that were burnt up inside his engine causing Vargas to start throbbing again inside of his slave.  Fyrre submitted himself to the whims of his master, hanging limp with a shudder as he gave up on all sense of dignity.
Hearing the sound of infants being crushed and mangled inside the Dire's engine, their blood smearing across the pistons before the heat would burn off the red, the dragon closed his eyes and focus on the thick powerful spear drilling into his innards.  Oil sloshed around his insides, more of it filling in from the thick steel cock that gurgled away.
	"MMMMPH, haaaah, ohhh f-FUCK I feel their tiny bones cracking up inside me!  Haaah...fucking worthless shits, you're even more easy to kill like this, I don't even have to reload!"
The nests were cleared out in the space of minutes, the vile wind of exhaust sucking every inch of it in a savage hurricane that ripped newborns from their egss, and eggs from their clutches.  Siblings were torn from each other's grasp, meeting again inside the burning hell of the monstrous engine that sliced and shredded and charred their remains until nothing was even left.
No one could even tell they had once been dragons by the time he was done, the crunching scream of something catching on a piston before it was melted clean into smoke.  Black fog began to fume into the cave, choking the last of the newborns in the smog that used to be their friends and family.  Tiny coughs filled the depths, that soon turned silent as the smoke sent them to a permanent sleep.
Once the cavern was silent, the jet reversed his thrusters back to their regular forward as pieces of bone and gristle spewed out of his burners.  The sound of grinding flesh and infant remains sent him over the edge in a furious climax, a climactic shriek of a flaming blast that turned the walls black with their ashes.
During this, he didn't even notice Fyrre choking to death from the overswelling of thick Dire seed, the cum gushing up inside to heavily distend his belly and cause a flood in his throat.  The dragon couldn't breathe, gargling a scream with the burning oil sealing his tongue and filling up his lungs like hardening wax.  His eyes rolled up in a coughing shiver, panting his last breaths as his own twin cocks sprayed out his final orgasm, as if in celebration to finally join the rest of his wretched kind.
	"Fuuuuck...yes."  Vargas sighed lifting up and away.  "Fucking perfect, you worthless shits feel so good tearing up inside me.  Aaaah, all that grit gumming up my engines before they're burnt away to nothing.  Hey, you listening bitch?"
He tried to look down but felt nothing from Fyrre's body.  Hanging limp with oil drooling out of his mouth, the dragon's corpse swayed with its lifeless paws dangling back and forth as it felt somewhat heavier with the swollen size of its belly.
	"Damn...you really fucking died huh you little bitch?  Pathetic."
The Dire jet grinned as he turned back towards his home, the journey slower than before with the extra drag of his dead former slave whose head lolled limp beneath.  Over the ruined island he savoured his work, the forest burnt to a hollow plain, the towns and villages now ruins where the heads and tails of dragons laid in pieces.  The day the sound of dragons' wings would disappear from the world, had come ever closer with each new victory.