Recharge

byAnnik Ghoti©

I admit it – I honestly had no idea what I was getting into when I volunteered for this project. I'm not certain I would've been brave enough to participate if I had truly understood the implications of it.

Let me go back to the beginning. I'm a 3rd year engineering student at the local university. Engineering is a real kick. After all, there's a reason that engineering students get blamed for some of the best campus pranks ever pulled; the reason is that we invent the best campus pranks ever pulled! But I digress.

This year, some of the artsy-fartsy kids on campus decided to challenge the engineering students to do something pro-environment for Earth Day. Their so-called invitation was nothing if not smarmy and smug. Engineering students don't exactly have a "green" reputation, but the truth is that lots of engineers, both students and practising engineers, actually care about the environment a great deal. Our engineering club decided to take up the challenge and go one step further: find a pro-environment project that related directly to both engineering and technology. We'd show those tree-hugging English lit and fine arts students the REAL way to save the planet: through science, not pretty stories and pictures.

And quite simply, that's how it all began. After some debate, our team agreed that one of the most common environmental hazards around was discarded batteries. Our research showed that the problem was just as big in developed nations as in developing countries; after all, if your village doesn't have any electricity, you end up using batteries by the gazillion just to read your homework. Thankfully, some bright sparks from another university were already working on that particular problem, mostly through cutting-edge applications of LED technology to provide entire villages with light for the equivalent cost of one standard lightbulb.

But again, I digress. I guess I'm still trying to adjust to the changes this project has made in my life. When I think about it, I shake my head in disbelief, but it's all true. Every word.

With the well-known mantra of "Think Global, Act Local" running through our heads, our team decided to promote more environmentally-friendly use of batteries in our city. We decided we'd tackle the problem from a few angles, including public education on better choices for batteries. After all, even though a rechargeable battery will die eventually, it still makes up for a lot of 'normal' batteries that get thrown into the garbage every day.

So what's with batteries, you ask? Well, they're chock-full of crap that hurts the environment. When a battery goes into the landfill, it leaches out all kinds of nasty compounds that can contaminate your local water table. How would you like to get cancer just so your kids can keep using their CD players? Huh. I thought not.

While half our team concentrated on getting out the message about safer battery choices, the other half began canvassing the neighbourhood to collect old batteries. Our goal was to fill a cargo container with batteries by the end of the semester. Our municipal government even agreed to deliver the container to the appropriate industrial-scale hazardous waste management centre, so we were pretty juiced about the whole project.

I'm on the door-to-door team. I wear a badge identifying myself as a student volunteer, and I carry a large nylon sack to toss old batteries into on my route.

The first few stops were uneventful and I had already picked up a handful of old batteries. But around my second hour of canvassing, I rang the bell at a sorority house. And that's when all hell broke loose.

When I explained what I was looking for, the girl at the door smiled broadly and invited me inside to the living room. She seemed amused by my request. Yet she ushered me to an overstuffed easy chair and told me to make myself comfortable.

"Give me a second while I get the girls together," she said, then ran off upstairs. I could hear footsteps, whispering, and giggling as she went from room to room to round up her housemates.

In a couple of minutes, there was quite the crowd in the large living room. I must have just happened to catch everyone between classes, because I didn't think any more students could possibly fit inside that house. The girl who answered the door stepped forward and smiled again. She asked me to please repeat for the girls what I was looking for.

"Sure," I said casually. If I'd only known what was going to happen next, I might have been unable to speak at all. Instead, absolutely oblivious to the undercurrents in the room, I launched into my spiel about battery safety and hazardous waste disposal.

"So you see," I said, summing up. "We're trying to get as many old batteries as possible to be disposed of properly as toxic waste, instead of polluting our landfill."

I could see several heads nodding in the crowd. A couple of snickers escaped from someone, but she was quickly hushed.

My eyes narrowed. I was finally getting the feeling that something fishy was going on here. I'm sure I looked as confused as one of those stoned-out wannabe hippies during exam week. Suddenly, as if on cue, the girls each whipped out a battery-operated device for my inspection.

I nearly died. I mean, I'm sure most guys have seen a vibrator or two in their lives, but probably not a couple of dozen at a time, and definitely not all of them pointing towards you at exactly the same time.

I felt my face flush bright red and my ears burning with embarrassment. Trying to remain professional, I said, "Ummm, yes. Yes, very good, ladies. Ummm... that's right. Anything that uses batteries should be checked for old batteries that I can... ummm... take with me."

Clicking, popping, snapping, and squeaking ensued as every girl in the room opened her particular vibrator to pop out the batteries. Double-As, triple-As, 9-volts... you name it, they had them all. Soon there was quite the pile in front of me.

The girl who answered the door earlier cleared her throat. "So," she began. "What are we supposed to do now that we don't have any batteries?" she asked innocently.

If possible, I blushed deeper. I stammered. I choked. I couldn't say a word and probably wouldn't have made sense even if I'd managed to get a word past my tonsils.

She watched me dispassionately throughout my display. Clearly, my lack of ability to communicate didn't fluster her in the least.

"Well," she said finally, smiling warmly. "I think I know just the thing!"

At that, she literally pounced on me. If the easy chair had been any less substantial, we would've gone straight backwards through the window. As it was, her momentum slid the two of us, and the chair, against it pretty hard, but only a warning creak came from the window frame.

She straddled one of my legs and began grinding herself into my thigh. At the same moment, she grabbed my face with both her hands and pulled me into a deep-throated kiss.

I'd be lying if I said I took this all in stride. Sure, it's every guy's fantasy to have a room full of nubile young hotties coming on to him, but let's face it... unless you're Superman himself you couldn't possibly manage all that without pulling several muscles, possibly even doing some permanent damage of some sort.

In other words, I was afraid. Very afraid.

In the moment that she broke off the kiss, I gasped and let out a sharp "Hey!" She sat back somewhat and took another close look at me. Sure, there was a huge bulge in my jeans, but my face and ears were so hot I'm sure I could've been used as a tanning lamp.

She looked at me with something resembling pity. Seriously... it resembled pity, but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't actual, honest-to-goodness pity. Why am I sure? Well, because she turned to her friends and said, "Awwww... he's shy, girls! Let's get him some privacy!"

With a cheer, the entire group surged forward and grabbed at me. Hands had me by the feet, the ankles, the legs, the arms, the wrists, the hands, and even my neck. My initial response to struggle against my captivity was quickly stopped by the realisation that it was utterly, utterly futile. I was caught as surely as a fly in a spider's web. Only it looked like this spider was going to share me with all her friends.

Oh Lord.

I really don't know how they did it. Sure, there must have been 15 of them and only one of me, but those aren't exactly the best numbers to try climbing stairs at one time. They were like a team of ants bringing home a prize to their queen. The air was so charged with excitement that I'm pretty sure that just like ants, any one of them could've lifted me on her own... her strength multiplied by at least 10 times.

After a few bumps and turns, I found myself on a large bed. It was at least a Queen size and was exactly like the kinds of beds little girls go crazy for... including a canopy with lots of lace and pink all over it.

The girls soon had me stripped bare of everything by taking turns strategically releasing and grasping parts of me. My socks had caused quite a stir... apparently, no one had seen Argyle on anyone under 50. So seeing a young guy wearing a pair made quite a few of them titter and giggle.

In a mock whisper, I heard someone say, "At least he's not wearing Underoos, too!"

Oh Lord. Please, let me die now.

Hands caressed me. Soft hands, small hands. Hands with long nails, hands with short nails. Hands with rings and bracelets, hands that were absolutely naked. I was stroked all over my body. Well, all over except for... um, my... my penis. These cruel young women were all over me, but kept ignoring one crucial part. Not that it mattered to my penis, of course. It swelled and strained and throbbed towards their touch; any touch. But like my escape, it was futile. Mr. Stiffy wouldn't be touched by these girls. At least, not until they decided it was time to touch. If they decided it was time to touch.

Oh Lord. The agony.

Ever since puberty, I'd been able to relieve myself whenever needed. And I was low enough on the popularity ladder that I didn't have to spend any time near the many and various high-school cockteases. So this night was the first time I had ever experienced the pain of unrelieved arousal.

Finally, though, someone realised that my groans weren't from pleasure but from pain. The face of the first girl, the girl who'd jumped me downstairs on the chair, swam into view through my tear-blurred eyes.

"Tsk tsk tsk," she clucked at me. "Not so tough then, are you? Well, I guess I can take care of that." She smiled... this time a mixture of sympathy and empathy... but her eyes flashed wickedly.

Scrambling around near my outstretched form, the girl quickly disrobed. She called for a condom and one of her pals tossed a package over to her.

"I know, I know... latex isn't exactly environmentally friendly," she said. "But I'm sure you understand the need for caution whenever entering an uncertain environment."

I had no doubt that the uncertain environment to which she referred to was mine, not hers.

In a moment more, she straddled my hips and impaled herself on me. While her friends once again resumed their stroking and touching, she slowly pulled herself up and down along my shaft. Her cunt felt burning hot around my cock; when she drew herself up and away from me, the relative coldness of the air was a noticeable shock. Soon, she felt my body quiver, then began bucking wildly on me as I came hard and quick.

"Oh dear," she whispered in my ear. "Your battery died already?"

Oh Lord. The embarrassment.

She removed herself from my rapidly wilting cock. Other hands took care of the spent condom. I felt a warm washcloth applied gently to my balls and cock. Not only did this clean me, it managed to arouse me, much to the pleasure of my audience.

Oh Lord. Thank you!

I lost track of the time. We started sometime before dinner and ended sometime before breakfast. I was used by at least six of the girls once, and used by Girl Number One three times. And I managed to avoid pulling a muscle in the process, although I've got some odd bruises from all those hands restraining me on the bed.

So now they've released me on my own recognizance; I've been given orders to go home, recharge myself for a couple of days, and come back ready to operate on maximum power.

Yes, I'm definitely pro-environment!

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