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Parasitic Workers	By : stminority Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 2757 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Parasitic Workers
- 1
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Charlie Bucket never hesitated to be around Willy Wonka.
He got to converse and spend time with the chocolatier in ways no one else did. They were close, the heir and his mentor. Charlie could approach Wonka at anytime, and Wonka would immediately acknowledge him and bubble with happiness.
However, there was one day of the year where Wonka chose to be absent, locking himself in his private quarters. He refused to speak to anyone. For the two years Charlie had lived in the factory, he never understood this.
Today was that day. It was even noted on Charlie’s calendar.
He concluded that he should ask his family; perhaps they would know. After all, Grandpa Joe did work for Willy Wonka in the past. Maybe Wonka did this then too?
Grandpa Joe thought about Charlie’s question for several minutes, gathering what pieces he could remember from the long ago. The young boy waited patiently.
“This month is March, isn’t it?” his grandfather finally asked.
“It is.”
“Well, the only thing I can come to is that I do recall that this month was when he sent all of his workers home; when he closed the factory.”
“Do you think it has something to do with that, grandpa?”
“It’s a guess, my boy.”
Charlie’s childish curiosity was getting to him. He wanted to solve this mystery that had befuddled him for the past two years.
He traveled to Wonka’s secret bedroom. Eagerness and anxiety were filling him. The doors appeared, large and foreboding. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath into his lungs, and knocked quietly on the door.
“Mr. Wonka?” he called gently.
There was something that sounded like sniffling beyond the doors.
“Mr. Wonka, are you alright?”
A sharp inhale of breath and a muffled whine was the reply.
Charlie’s pure heart quaked. He felt sadness for his friend. He could not contemplate what would bother Wonka so, enough to make the great man cry.
With his innocent mind, he probably would not be able to comprehend the truth if he knew.
^^--------------------^^
Willy Wonka waved farewell to the last of his workers to file out of the building. He did not like people much, but they helped him create his dream of making candy each day, and he could not help but feel gratitude and thanks towards them.
“They are such wonderful workers,” he said to himself. “How can some of them be stealing my ideas?” He grew agitated by the thought. Indeed there were leaks within the bunch: someone, or a group of some ones, were taking his creations and selling them under other candy labels. The notion made him physically ill. He treasured his products more than anything. They were his own imagination put into form, causing happiness throughout the world for children.
His eyes surveyed the employees like a hawk’s, trying to catch on who the culprits might be. The thievery was getting worse with each passing day. He tried having inspections before everyone went home for the night, but had no luck. Closing the entire factory was a thought that came to him often. He could not bring himself to do it yet. All of his workers depended on their jobs. It would be almost impossible for them to find other work in such a small city with many people. The factory was a boost to the local economy. And Wonka could not bring himself to let go of his dream. Candy was his passion, the factory his playground to bring them to life. If he shut it down, what purpose was there for him?
One night changed his mindset.
Wonka retired to his quarters after seeing his employees off. The gratitude he had had progressively escaped him, leaving him with bitterness towards everyone. He was unaware of the man following in close proximity. When he pushed the door shut behind him, the lurker caught it and went in after him.
Wonka sighed and took off his top hat and coat. He ran his red gloved fingers through his short hair once. The day had not been a pleasant one. He discovered that morning that Slugworth had begun selling chewing gum which could be blown into bubbles of enormous sizes. “That was my idea,” he had grumbled.
He turned around and jumped in surprise at finding the person behind him.
“Mr. Prodnose! What in heavens are you doing here? You should be home. The work day is over!” He put on a fake smile and cheery tone.
“Mr. Wonka, you don’t know this, but I have my own little candy shop in town. And I need more.”
The wicked grin he had made Wonka extremely unsettled.
“I don’t understand,” Wonka responded tentatively. “You’re not one of those despicable spies, who are stealing my life’s work, are you?”
Wonka’s legs almost gave out as Prodnose took out a silver gun and pointed it at him.
“I want to shove you off your pedestal,” Prodnose growled. “You’re too damn chipper for anyone. Plus I’d like to get to know the genius before I take from him.”
“I’m sorry, but-”
“To your bedroom.”
“What?”
Prodnose turned him around violently and held the end of his firearm against Wonka’s back. Wonka’s body trembled as he led the way. He could not fathom what was going to happen, his innocent mind did not work in that way. When they got into the room, Wonka was required to strip. His hands shook violently as he took his clothes off. He could not take his eyes off the barrel of the pistol. He was afraid that if he did he would be shot.
The air was cold against his exposed skin. He wrapped his arms around himself, partly to keep warm and partly to comfort his own being. Mortification was sinking in, watching Prodnose look him over as if ascertaining that he was good enough; to the other man’s liking.
“Get on it,” Prodnose commanded, motioning towards the bed.
Wonka did as he was told, still not fully allowing himself to believe what was happening. Prodnose took out rope from his bag, grabbed hold of one of Wonka’s wrists, and tied it to the headboard post. He did the same with Wonka’s other hand. The bonds were tight, making Wonka grimace slightly. A piece of cloth was tied over his mouth before Prodnose shed his clothes from the waist down. He climbed on top of Wonka, pressing the end of the gun beneath Wonka’s chin.
Prodnose ran his unoccupied hand along the inside of Wonka’s thigh. Wonka shuddered from the violating touch. Repulsion would have been his dominant thought for the action if he was not so frightened.
“So, boss, have you ever been-”
The last word was lost as Wonka yelled. The man drove himself into Wonka at the same time he spoke the ending. A hand roamed the chocolatier’s body freely and greedily. Wonka struggled against the rope, and he thrashed about wildly. The touch and having another man inside of him was too much. He screamed loudly, the sounds muffled against the cloth, and writhed about. He forgot about the gun until Prodnose shoved it against his temple strongly. He immediately stopped moving and lay still, breathing weighty.
“Try that again, and I’ll blow your brains out,” Prodnose warned harshly.
Wonka nodded and let out a shaky breath.
Wonka could not help emitting several whimpers as Prodnose thrust in and out of him aggressively. It hurt greatly, physically and emotionally. He was splayed out naked, completely vulnerable, his body moving in time with the male above him. He felt like his ears were bleeding from the noises that reached them. Prodnose grunted above him, laughing occasionally from the humiliation and pain obvious on Wonka’s visage. He wanted to see a tear, but Wonka never did let one go.
Wonka wanted to vomit when the sensation of Prodnose’s orgasm filled him. Knowing that the abuse on his body was ending found him little solace. When Prodnose pulled out of him and away, Wonka tried weakly once more to liberate his wrists. There was no success.
The chocolatier observed Prodnose dress and move towards his desk. His heart pounded as Prodnose dug through papers and books, and drawers, and at last found what he had wanted to obtain. Wonka shouted at him, his aching body now alive and twisting to get loose. Prodnose had several in his hand and grinned at Wonka. He returned to stand by the bed and looked down at the candy maker.
“This will be good for now,” he said in a low tone.
Wonka shook his head, screaming, and beginning to cry.
“I thank you for being so creative. Just think of this as leveling the competition evenly out. There are plenty of spies in your factory, Mr. Wonka. You’ll never catch who they are. Soon you’ll be out of business.”
Wonka was sobbing uncontrollably. The large red letters that read “SECRET RECIPE” on the envelopes in the man’s hand were all he could look at. His creations were being robbed from him right before his very eyes. It was like a dagger in his chest. His life’s work and achievements taken just like that. Being raped did not cause as much agony to him as seeing someone take his recipes in front of him.
Lilac eyes were swollen and red, spilling tears rapidly. Prodnose bent down and licked some off of Wonka’s cheeks. Wonka flinched from the wet tongue against his flesh. Prodnose heard him plead, “Don’t take them, please.” The employee was somewhat astounded at how much Wonka cared for his recipes. The chocolatier did not even seem phased by the sexual abuse he had just gone through, but was grieving and in pain over the things being taken from him instead.
Prodnose loosened the ropes bounding Wonka before he left the room without another word or glance. Wonka released his wrists, took the cloth off of his mouth, shifted to his side, and brought his knees to his chest. He cried hard and long.
There are spies everywhere……….There are spies everywhere……..Plenty of them………They won’t stop……..Spies everywhere……….Trust no one……….There’s no other choice……….They are everywhere……..
“No…..no…..” he sobbed. He shook with each quick, uneven breath. “It……has…..to……be done,” he choked out.
The next day, he ordered all of his workers out of the gate.
With a microphone, he announced, “I’m closing my chocolate factory…..forever. I’m sorry.”

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The entrance was left unlock. It was overlooked by accident.
Charlie hesitated to enter, but went ahead inside. He found Wonka on the sofa with tissues scattered on the floor around it. The boy cautiously drew nearer. The candy man’s back was to him.
“Mr. Wonka?” Charlie asked softly when he stood next to the sofa.
Wonka jumped and quickly moved to face him. Charlie gasped at how disheveled his mentor looked. It looked as if he had done nothing but cry all day.
“Charlie!” he exclaimed and wiped his face. “What are you doing here? I don’t want you to see me like this!”
“Please don’t be mad. I was worried about you. You always disappear on this day each year. What’s wrong?”
“Oh my dear boy, you wouldn’t here.”
Wonka held his arms open and Charlie crawled on him to receive the embrace. Wonka held him tightly and kissed the top of his head.
“You wouldn’t steal from me, would you Charlie?” he whispered.
“Of course not, Mr. Wonka.”
“You wouldn’t betray me, would you?”
“No, Mr. Wonka. I love you.”
Wonka kept hold of Charlie for a long while. The youth failed to notice that there was a pistol tucked behind Wonka’s pillow. If he had said “Yes” to his mentor’s questions, it would have been put to use.
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Parasitic Workers