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Is It Scary	By : Idolhands Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 18216 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Please be aware that the volumes/chapters of this tale are out of order. Be sure to pick the NUMBER of the Volume, not the number assigned by Adultfanfiction.net. I cannot control this problem, sorry and thank you for reading.
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Title: Is It Scary, volume XII
By: IDOL HANDS
Rating: Mature Demented Audiences (who like a good injection of NC-17? oh Hell, it’s porn people!)
Warnings: For dramatic and adult themes, alternate Paganism, violence, religion, an explicit under-aged/adult slash (Shouta/Chan) relationship
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp.
Summary: This story has been about questions that haunted my psyche after the film was over. You watch Burton’s movie and it’s obvious that the man enjoyed seeing everything that happened to those families. Oh yes, it’s in his eyes. So, I had to ask, how would such aspects affect our dear Charlie? To those who do not understand the hunger for violence as they do the one for sex (and in reference to the tale itself) I title this volume…

"Oh yea of little faith"

As fast as he could, the boy in the iridescent blue-green beetle armor had grabbed the helmets and sword. He madly dashed into the overgrowth after his hijacked mentor; heart pounding like a jackrabbit. Part of him wanted to give-up and run all the way back home, but he couldn’t leave Mr. Wonka like that. No, he couldn’t. No matter how frightened he was.
He fought leaves that were sharp as razor blades: a few of them managing to tear the cat-suit despite its resilience. Vines on the ground threatened to tangle around his feet and pull him down. The chocolatier had used a machete to cut through such thicket. The boy had neither the weapon nor the time for that. Finally he found the clearing where the large, circular footprints ended. He dared to look upward. The beast was about as awful as he imagined it; one giant trunk constricted around the uprooted chocolatier and one giant eyeball glaring far down at him. It stood as tall as a house with thick wrinkled skin the color of a stagnant pond. Dinosaur plates stuck out of its back and all down it’s spiked tail. The child’s eyes had gone extremely wide, glassy, and completely blue as he took in his challenge. There was little time for observance or thought – he had to react as he had seen his…this person he loved do.
Grunts, groans and sounds of struggle could be heard from Wonka as he pushed against the constriction and kicked out his dangling legs.
Charlie reattached the spiked Prussian-styled helmet. No easy feat with his hands shaking as they were. Once it was in place, he clenched his teeth while the animal continued to stare. Strange, deep echoing noises were coming from its gaping tusked mouth. It felt as if time had slowed. The actions only took milliseconds but they could have been hours. Rapidly breathing, he put a vice on the sword handle and charged towards the monstrosity screaming.
“Uhn! Charlie, NO! NOO! You’ll..ah…get hurt!!” Wonka had risen up a splayed hand in protest, his other one pinned underneath. The large leather bucket glove had been shaken free exposing his purple latex one underneath.
Wonka’s warning was simultaneous with the boy’s decision to act in the only way that had been demonstrated to him. The boy continued running until he reached the towering animal and slashed at the first part he reached - its left front leg. A loud sound of complaint followed the gash as the child swung quickly back to strike again. Wide-eyed and panting, he was shocked at his own actions. But what else could he do to prevent the candymaker from being squeezed to death or eaten alive or some other violent end? A second wound caused the animal to roughly throw down his mentor and rise up onto its hind legs.
WhumMPF!
The man’s body made a louder sound than the boy would have wanted to hear. Next, the creature swung it’s tail furiously and released a deafening trumpet sound:
BRROOOoooooOOOWEEeeooo!
Charlie’s attention was torn between watching the animal or running to Mr. Wonka’s aid. His beloved mentor and hero had let out a noise upon hitting the ground but there hadn’t been any movement. Tears streamed down the Bucket child’s face as he clenched his teeth down again and glared at the mutant elephant. He bravely ran towards it again with an anguished cry; never had he allowed such strong emotion to escape him. His strength came from pooling all of his pain and sorrow together – everything he had ever repressed or ignored in order to please his family, in order not to upset things lest he make them worse than they were. It suddenly came bubbling up out of him. And now the woe about this gore filled place and what just happened were added to it.
His screaming had far less volume than the trumpeting sound that the elephant had made, but it was no less meaningful. The Goliath ceased its billowing sounds and actually backed away from the frail child. The complaints quieter now:
AAaaaoorrru! *SNORT!* Huff!
The sword cut through the air in sharp whipping sounds as Charlie’s unskilled efforts threatened the retreating beast. A thin trail of blood marked its path as it continued to back-up releasing a mere:
bbreeiit!
“Scared?! GOOD! Stay AWAY! Go away and NEVER come back! Y-you horrible MONSTER!” The anguish was still in his voice, forcing it to crack at certain octaves. All he could think was that this animal could have harmed the most amazing person he had ever known. Tremendous worry and guilt were eating his soul. Mr. Wonka had tried to protect him, but he had lashed forward and those actions could have caused…could have caused…no, he’d be OK. He’d be all right and come to the rescue again. The child’s chest heaved as he willed himself to believe that with all of his pounding heart.
The bulky animal stayed where it was, only using its long, sinuous trunk to brush over the damaged area.
The child jerked as something touched his shoulder from behind. Revolving around, sword pointed downward, he was rewarded with his greatest hope instead of another nightmarish Isle of Dr. Moreau creation: it was a slightly dirt-covered and bent over Willy Wonka with a goofy grin on his face and one hand clasped around his rib cage. A few gashes had removed bits of the suit and there were cracks in the purple-pink armor, but there wasn’t any sign of blood.
“Hey killer, calm down, you’ve shown that snuffleupasaurus who’s boss. Good thing this one was already pretty tame.” His breathing was ragged, but he managed to create a quick, sharp whistle by placing two fingers into his mouth. The animal made low, echoing noises that indicated some sort of comprehension. It sat down on its hindquarters where it was.
“Y-you..know this-this…thing?! I hurt an innocent animal?!” Suddenly the boy was grateful for only having had a nibble at breakfast. Any more food than that and he would have been sick on the spot. Currently his intestines were a bundle of knots. The humidity of the surroundings clung to him like a cellophane wrapper.
“Innocent?” The man chuckled while trying to stand up-right, making distorted faces of discomfort, “I wouldn’t give Spike here that much credit. Besides, ya did a bang-up job of comin’ tah my rescue. I’m totally impressed! You were completely awesome!!”
It was wonderful to hear his mentor sound like himself again and in many other circumstances such compliments would have made the child’s heart light up in ways that would make him feel like he could fly. Right now it had a far different reaction. He stared wordlessly at the man who was sending a thousand watt smile in his direction. Arms spread open as if he were about to receive a hug. Tears started to stream out of the little boy’s eyes as he did walk toward the open arms, throwing the sword to the dirt ground…
Instead of a hug however, he began pounding the armor on the man’s chest with the bottom of two small fists. Though the impact wasn’t much, it caused Wonka to react with, “Oof! Oof!! Ow! Hey, quit it!”
The chocolatier finally gripped the boy’s gloved wrists and stated in an exaggeratedly irritated tone. “OW! Uh, hello, wounded victim here!”
The child immediately retorted with, “No you’re not! You tricked me! You’re playing games again and it’s not funny! I thought you were really in danger and I thought that you could be dea—de—“.
The next thing the boy did confused Willy Wonka even further. His heir had collapsed onto his plated chest and begun sobbing. The man was so proud of the child’s violent outburst! So, why was Charlie upset? And why was he laying on him after hitting him and yelling at him? Whatever was he supposed to do? Be angry? Be happy? Comfort him? But for what? Everything was fine, going swimmingly actually.
The animal let out an inquisitive squeal from behind the two as Wonka had begun the lengthy process of sorting out his emotions. It had continued to sit in the bush, at the edge of the small clearing, awaiting further commands.
“Uh?” Charlie stopped lying against Willy and turned back toward the extraordinary pacaderm. More tears escaped his eyes as he spotted the bright slashes on its upper leg. He only approached the animal by a step, careful not to upset or panic the towering snuffleupasaurus. His voice sounded sincere and timid, “I’m sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me. I didn’t know…oh, you can’t understand.”
A vibrating moan was emitted in response.
Willy glared at the animal and shouted, “Oh, quit complainin’! He barely scratched ya fer Pete’s sake!”
How dare the creature take the boy’s precious attention away from himself!
“Charlie?” A calm, pleading tone was in the man’s voice when he addressed his pupil immediately after.
The boy kept his back to him. Head and shoulders bent over he sullenly stated, “I want to leave this awful place. I want to leave right now and never come back.”
A cold shock ran through the candymaker.
The boy didn’t hear him speak another word. He reluctantly turned around after a few seconds of silence, not particularly in the mood to deal with one of his frequent ‘flashbacks’. However, what he did see immediately changed his mood: torn garment, missing glove, frazzled hair, smudged with animal blood and dirt from the ground, Wonka looked completely defeated. Throw in a couple of windmills behind him and there would’ve been a great likeness to the self-portrait which hung in The Forbidden Room. There was a saddened look on his face and bleak emptiness in his eyes, nary a sparkle to be seen. However, it wasn’t his eyes that changed how Charlie felt about the moment…it was the wetness falling from them. While he watched, another tear streamed down the man’s face.
Wonka uttered, “I wish Spike had killed me. It couldn’t hurt more than this.”
The boy’s hands had found a way up to his mouth by themselves. He had no idea what to say. His emotions were a mess. One moment he was on a violent wild goose chase for mysterious ingredients, then he was nearly ready to let the man do anything he wanted to him in the middle of a jungle, next he found himself doing something that went against everything he thought he ever believed in, and now the person who caused all of the madness was falling to pieces before his eyes!
“You don’t hafta say anything…” Willy tilted his head and his eyes to the side. The bright bottom lip quivered. Slowly he took a breath and walked over to the sword. He picked it up and examined it in a way that Charlie didn’t like.
“Mr. Wonka! No! Don’t!” The gentle British voice announced. The noise of feet patting firmly on the foliage-covered floor came racing toward him.
“Don’t wut?” He said accusatorily and spun around. “Don’t eviscerate myself like you just did?”
His eyes and face were full of foreboding as he swung up the blade and in a blinding speed, slashed it across his midriff and left arm right in front of his heir. Charlie screamed again and squeezed his eyes shut. His hands were slapped on top of them. “AAAHHHHHH!”
There were only the unceasing foreign noises of the tropical landscape for a few seconds while Charlie’s body shook with fear. There weren’t any immediate sounds to indicate the awful scene he imagined had taken place: no noises that would keep him from ever sleeping again. Only one minute shifting of air reached his panicked ears. The child forced himself to peek the smallest sliver of a glimpse. He saw a perfectly unscathed, pale midriff exposed, very slightly muscled, with a deep bellybutton and the beginning of one hipbone. The sound was of Mr. Wonka’s sword being replaced into it’s sheath. The boy opened his eyes the entire way, arms still near his face in case he would need them again.
Wonka started to speak when his heir looked at his face again. “The sword can’t cut me. Guess I was playin’ games with ya again, huh? Or maybe I was just wishin’ it would today. These aren’t games little boy. They’re me, tryin’ tah help you, understand what the world is REALLY about. I had to learn all this...” He gestured toward the expanse of the room. “By myself. NO ONE taught me how to survive. NO ONE protected me…no one. And I wasn’t in any ‘controlled’ environment either.”
His eyes squinted as he pointed at the boy, “SO, Ya wanna make me the ‘villian’ in alla this? Fine, if it makes ya feel better, but I know some part of you liked it. I felt it on my lips and I heard it in my ears. You wanna pretend it’s not there? Then yer never gonna understand me or my factory.”
“So leave! Go ‘head! Pack up all yer things and break yer promise and pretend you didn’t say that you…you…lo-loved me.” Wonka’s emotions dramatically altered his expression and voice. The irate instructor was transformed into an abandoned child. Tears had started to fall from his eyes once more. By the time the chocolatier completed the entire statement, a minute sobbing noise hiccupped out of him. He placed the back of his hand over his mouth and turned away from shame.
There were times when Mr. Wonka didn’t seem human, when he seemed completely invulnerable or like a character from some amorphous storybook, but Charlie could see that he was real and that he did have a heart. Could the mere idea of loosing his company really expose such a gaping hole inside the matrix of his idol’s soul? He pondered Wonka’s stern lecture and remembered his mother had taught him that anger often masks pain. Perhaps it was idealistic to think the eccentric chocolatier could accomplish so many marvelous things without causing damage to something. ‘Sacrifices’ as the man called it. He hadn’t meant to be so naïve.
“Mr. Wonka,” He started quietly, approaching closer by only one metaphorical step, as he would a wild animal, “you don’t understand. I only wanted to leave this room, not the entire factory. I don’t break my promises and I’m not going to leave you. Since I’ve met you I’ve had the most astonishing and fantastic experiences of my life.” Wonka’s glossy eyes examined the child from over his shoulder. He was in a posture of hugging himself.
As the man uncurled and carefully turned to face Charlie again, the emotionally gifted youth continued, “I’ve learned SO much, but no, I guess that I don’t understand all of you. I’m trying. I want to, but…there’s so much to you. Remember wot you said about feeling like a lab rat at my house this morning? Well, I feel like that too, like this teensy little mouse trying to run through a giant maze for bits of chocolate and candy.”
The boy made scurrying movements with his hands, exposed his upper teeth, and twitched his scooped nose to illustrate the point.
Wonka’s head was pivoted slightly downward to look at the boy, arms draped at his side. He simply stood unblinking at his heir, taking in everything that the boy was saying. A pure lavender color had returned to his eyes and made Charlie’s mind recall those of the unicorn’s in his waking dream. That thought brightened up his spirit and he continued, “I keep going through this maze because I want the ‘candy’ that’s wearing a top hat and wrapped in velvet at the end. The ‘treat’ that thought everything up in the first place. This Secret Ingredients Room…I guess some part of me did like it…sort of, but I don’t understand why.”
Clutching at his own hands, he paused and looked off to the side with a worried expression. “I don’t want to be a bad person, sir.”
The man stepped right up to him and touched his cheek. It was still not as plump as other children’s. The result of years of starvation couldn’t wear off in a few weeks. “Yer not. Yer not a bad person, Charlie.”
His voice was more relaxed and natural than usual. Charlie couldn’t help but feel like there was more to the statement than Mr. Wonka was saying. He had emphasized the “Yer” and it seemed that there was an I’m implied. Since he had not spoken it, the boy assumed it was a negative reference to himself that he was withholding. The boy wrapped his arms around his mentor. Pressing his chin against the place where it rested at his mid-chest, he kept looking up into his eyes, less afraid of everything that was in them now, “You’re not a bad person either, Mr. Wonka. You just don’t want to hurt anymore and you don’t want anything to hurt me either.”
“Yes.” Came the strained response: complete and whole. Not “Yeah” or “Yup” or “Uh-huh”. Two strong arms returned the child’s embrace. For a peaceful moment, they stood content in the middle of Willy Wonka’s self-created nightmare. Until…
Bbreeiit!
The sudden sound from the Snuffleupasaurus startled them both. Their eyes widened as they squeezed each other tighter. Wonka’s features quickly changed to comic annoyance. “Toldja he was fine. Look, those cat-scratches have started tah heal already.”
Willy gently turned the child to face the behemouth. “See, they have super healing powers for dealing with hornswaggler horns, whangdoodle stings, snozzwhanger claws, and just about anything else you can throw at them!”
Arm around his shoulders, he encouraged the child to accompany him back to the great beast, “Which means they scare the heck outta everything and therefore make perfect animals to ride through the jungle on if ya can tame them.”
Mr. Wonka placed his fingers into his mouth again and whistled slightly differently than before. The animal huffed and responded by lowering itself all the way to the ground. Seeing his mentor command such a large, intimidating animal did stir something in the boy. He grinned at him with the smallest glint in his eyes. The beast inside of the man could be intimidating but what a force it must be to accomplish something like this!
“Spike here is the ‘alpha’ male. Know what that means?” Wonka had switched back into his instructor role.
Charlie shook his head.
“It means he’s boss. He’s the lead male of the herd. So, if he listens to me than all the other snuffleupasauruses do too. Believe me, that was not easy and, as you can tell, he still roughhouses too much.” Willy wiggled his finger in disapproval at the animal.
“Spike, this is Char-Leee. Charlie, FRIEND.” He took his hand and placed it over his heir’s bringing it to touch the animal’s ear.
Then Mr. Wonka focused a very stern look into the animal’s massive eye. “If you hurt one little hair on his head, I’ll make ya into the world’s largest stew.”
He paused, “Huh. Come tah think of it, he might beat me too it!”
The last comment came out with great glee, but Charlie still felt guilty. He gently stroked the animal’s floppy ear. He could feel through the glove that the texture was far softer than he thought it would be. “No, that’s not true Spike. Now that we’re friends I promise never to hurt you on purpose.”
Wonka was surprised at the very different tone his charming little companion had taken with the immense animal. The boy and the chocolate maker made an interesting duo in their contrasts. Willy had always thought that he’d want a child that was as much like himself as possible. Wouldn’t that be easiest? However, he came to realize that such a child would be impossible to train. He or she certainly couldn’t be told what not to do. It was why he thought Veruca or Mike had a chance at first, then Veruca couldn’t take one “no” about the squirrels and the TeeVee kid wouldn’t even give him a slap on the hand. When it came down to that last golden ticket, Mr. Wonka had wished for a ‘perfect’ child to help him run the factory and he had a way of making his wishes come true. Didn’t he deserve perfection? It was exactly what he demanded from his products. Yet, there were times when he got so nervous, even insecure, about what was different between him and Charlie. So, why was he finding himself liking their differences so much lately? Hey, he realized, that musta have been why Madame Rose said this person was perfect for him, not identical or equal, simply well-matched; the yin to his yang, as the Asian culture would say. This child offered far more ‘perks’ than the mere contact of a high-five anyway.
Charlie stayed with his new friend while Willy collected all of the packs left by the tum-tum tree. He had replaced the regal helmet onto his head, even though he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t need it again. Arriving at the draping tree, the man was pleased to see that he was wrong. A snozzwhanger was picking at the carcass of one of the hornswagglers when he arrived; the feathers shown in the light with vivid, peacock hues. Only a winged creature would dare to come within a hundred foot radius of a trumpeting snuffleupasaurus! He had done a good job breeding those vegetarian creatures to keep a balance in his absences. For all of the native creatures of Loompa-land were truly horrible. When they couldn’t eat Oompa-Loompas, they resorted to eating each other!
The bird was pulling flesh from the first horned creature that he had killed. He had done the old, weak hornswaggler a favor by killing it swiftly. Otherwise it was doomed to be shredded apart by its own family when it was least expecting it. Mmn. Yeah, that part of their nature was particularly revolting to him he thought. His attention went back to the completely distracted vulture as it tore another long sinew off the dead body and choked it down.
A great smirk formed onto his face as his eyebrows lowered. What if his boy wanted a few more top hats? For this was the exact sort of feather that adorned the one he had given him yesterday. They were mean man-sized creatures, but they had mighty pretty plumage. Stealthily, he withdrew the long sword again. It felt ever so slightly different to him, for he could sense Charlie’s energy in there. However, it was the most rare form of his energy…anger – as pure as the rest of him. Mr. Wonka did not use a different word to describe sentimental value; he meant what he had said about energies of people being captured in the magical instruments.
The exotic winged creature had caught sight of him while he savored the new sensation mingling with his own. It let out a loud:
Cra-CAW! Caw!
The chocolatier frowned in annoyance as the cumbersome bird flew far up into the treetops. Another day perhaps, he thought. Fate had served him well lately, so he wouldn’t get too upset. Instead he made his way to the dead animals. He noted that he had killed a total of six. That was the exact same number of people in Charlie’s family excluding the kid. All of the snozzwhangers had been feasting upon the fruits of his labor. All of them had been brought here by himself and all of them were a threat to his heir while they still breathed. He snickered at his own dark thoughts. No, he told himself, he didn’t hate the whole family that much. Still, it was an interesting coincidence. And with that he slit their bellies open, interested as to what was inside.
Modern Pagans would have highly objected to his actions. They called themselves Wiccans and believed in doing nothing that harmed others – so called, “white magicians”. That was all fine and good for them, but Willy had a rather different and much older set of beliefs. Concepts that were good enough for people back in the days of Ramses and Julius Caesar. In days gone by, people referred to the katana blade as “the life-giving sword”; for by killing others they saved the innocent in Japan. Point of fact, the Old Testament of the Christian religion suggested a far less forgiving God. Ah, “But who are you to play God?” - some would argue. Why, he was Willy Wonka of course! The same man who used a taffy puller to stretch out a shrunken little boy and had seen to it that a bloated little girl had all of the blueberry juice squeezed out of her. He could do things that others could not by simply believing that they could be so. At some point tonight, perhaps he would treat himself to another glass from the vat of curious blue liquid that was squeezed out of Violet. It had a most intriguing flavor though he doubted most anyone else would enjoy it as he did.
Leaning over their slimy and oddly colored entrails he smiled at the things he ‘read’ in them. Short work was made out of the bodies; with fast, practiced movements and removed specific parts of the beasts. The parts were then placed into a black sack (the others being khaki in color); one that he would not share with Charlie in his current over-worked state of nerves. Thinning the herd once in a while actually was a good idea. Aside from each other, nothing else was going to. So what if it also gave him a little sport and a much-needed rush? And then there was that launch into outer space to consider. Practice was needed for that as well. He had fears even greater than that though, everyday reasons for preparing the child against devilish threats.
When the man returned to the clearing with all of their treasures, he found Charlie riding on the towering animal. A narrow bridge at the back of the neck was the only place that the dinosaur-sized mammals didn’t have sharp plates sticking out of their spine. The boy looked happy as a clam and was waving triumphantly, so obviously he was not treated badly in the process of getting up there. The man also noticed that the slash mark were completely gone. Wonka whistled threw his fingers once more. Spike immediately reacted and clumsily lifted his master, plopping him behind Charlie.
“Oof! Watch it!” Exclaimed Wonka as he fixed the angle of the helmet that had been thrown out of wack in the process. The creature got rougher with Willy than he had been with his new acquaintance. Still, the chocolatier was in one of his favorite positions…
Charlie felt arms slide around his waist and a chin rest on the cradle of his neck. Next he felt the bridge of the man’s nose nuzzling at the edge of his jawline as long legs came to rest directly behind his spread out ones. The animal already knew the way, so Wonka didn’t need to guide him much back to the tree house, only the occasional tap of his boot or tug on a spike was needed. The two stayed rather quiet through their bumpy ride contemplating the day’s events and the other’s words throughout it. Wonka was content to hold Charlie as close to himself as he could. The words weren’t spoken, but they were in his embrace and cuddling, “Please don’t ever leave me.”
Less accustomed to the built-in seat of bone and not wanting to fall off the beast, Charlie’s smaller set of hands gripped on tight to the knobbed growths before him. So, while the boy did not return the loving gestures, he also did not complain. He was getting a little flustered from the trip though. Spread-legged as the boy was across the massive neck, an interesting sensation did occur from behind when they had a rough jostle. Wonka’s codpiece was hard and well molded. The cool metal laying upon the sides of his face from the helmet kept reminding him of the man’s physical touch, which he had so very much enjoyed.
The animal was rewarded with a sampling of the treats when they arrived at the treehouse. All of which he gobbled down immediately. Spike sort of patted Charlie with his trunk and kneeled down briefly in front of Willy before returning to the depth of the jungle with one last billowing call. Underneath all of the horsing around, the animal did have a respect for his master.
Still reserving their voices, the pair looked at each other face to face again. Wonka looked away and removed a device from his backpack. A shot sounded as his grappling hook traveled way up into a specifically designed hole on the balcony. The sound of it locking into place echoed downward. With a hard pull, the chocolatier confirmed it was properly attached before putting out one arm. Charlie went forward and allowed him to put the arm around his waist again while the child put both arms around the man’s neck for grip. Connected by a device at the waist, it was a simple matter now for Willy to be pulled up by the mechanism’s pully.
Once inside, the rest of the special items were put into sleek cube-shaped coolers. The man was careful to put the contents of the black bag away while his heir was distracted in his efforts of removing the strapped armor plates. Eventually Wonka walked over to where the boy was standing and sat down on the spacious window seat. He simply looked at Charlie. That was all it took for the child to give up with a sigh and allow the candyman to undo the devices for him. It had looked so simple when he watched Mr. Wonka do it. Bing, bang, done in a matter of seconds. Yet here he was struggling for almost ten minutes!
Willy secretly enjoyed the frustrated pout on his heir’s face at his quickness to undo all of the fastening devices that were outwitting the lad. He wasn’t sure what to say at the moment. It seemed like everything that needed to be said had already done so. Therefore, silence was the obvious choice. It was the first time in a great while that he had deliberately been quiet with someone other than an Oompa-Loompa. He did tend to chatter when he was nervous and he did tend to be nervous a lot. Mmn, there was an unpleasant memory connected to that thought – many years ago when some men, whom he thought were friends, saw fit to humiliate him for his awkward tendencies. Since then they’ve been mortal enemies. Three against one wasn’t very fair, but he was still head and shoulders AND a massive chocolate factory above them.
The far-away gaze and ‘bad trip’ were interrupted by something quite wonderful, the turning of the figure in his arms to meet his lips with one of those delicate kisses again. It felt like a sort of forgiveness or acceptance. The man’s grip on his heir’s body tightened for a fraction of a second then loosened. No, no, he must be gentle. He would have to keep the monster in its cage…for now. Although, he could of sworn that he saw something when the boy was chained to his bed. Perhaps there would be an opportunity to try more of that some other time. Apparently, Charlie was more of a ‘lover’ than a fighter. It seemed he preferred to be the one ‘hunted’.
Arms going around his shoulders were followed by another moist, soft kiss pushing harder against his mouth this time and rewarding the candymaker’s restraint. Wonka considered his situation and began to lay back, one arm ever so gently encouraging the smaller form to follow, fingers appreciating the indent of his spine. The airy weight of the Bucket child came to rest on top of him, one narrow leg between his own. The window seat was about the size of a twin bed. The cushion under them was thin, but it would still serve nicely.
The boy’s kiss never really broke off, it merely turned into a succession of smaller maneuvers, releasing only for a breath or to twist into another position. He continued to let the boy take the lead even though the succession of soft, silky touches were driving him wild. As a distraction and a way to enjoy the sensuality of the moment further, he reached behind the boy’s back and pulled off the glove of his left hand. The dissected gold ring with the ruby heart and silver-cupped hands became exposed. Charlie continued his kiss while the pale, bare hand indulged in the fineness of the boy’s chestnut colored hair. Wonka could discern every single fragile strand that brushed his skin. He honestly didn’t mind the tactile reactions of coming into contact with his heir, but anyone else would probably overwhelm his overly perceptive senses.
The first time the smaller lips parted enough to make a subdued moan; the man took the opportunity to lick at the uneven architecture of teeth inside to see if he’d be permitted to enter. He was. A louder, more musical moan of his own followed after that for Charlie was doing something very curious – he was sort of sucking on his tongue. It was an incredibly erotic sensation. Even so, he couldn’t resist teasingly trying to tug it away from the child to see what he would do. It amused him that it took a bit of effort to accomplish that.
What the boy did in reaction was to first emit the cutest annoyed moan and second to purposely suck back down to retrieve the large flexible muscle back into his little mouth. It was the flavor inside of the man that made him do it: that sort of ambrosia or syrupy sweetness. Their mouths were as passionately locked together as their bodies. A moment later of these new actions and his heir’s inserted leg became aware of how appreciated they were. The stretch suits were thin and now slashes of skin showed through in various places on both. In Willy’s case the split at his midsection made it possible for the child to feel the muscles of his abdomen against his more modest hardness.
Continuing to kiss and twist against each other, the firmness of Wonka’s stomach and the bumps of the subtle washboard structure were making the child want to rub against his benefactor. Uncertain if this was permitted or polite, he was only pressing down occasionally, usually when he decided to part their lips for air. Then he felt hands slide down the sides of his compact form, trailing the subtle curves of his body, followed by a firm grip on his rear. The squeezing of the hands encouraged him to continue; to go faster and push down harder. The boy finally released them from their tongue play in order to emit the endearing sounds of his pleasure, panting in between:
“ah! uh!”
It was a marvelous sensation to personally experience the child’s sexual discoveries: moments that would never reproduce themselves and therefore stay his and his alone forever. Charlie’s torso was propped up by his hands while his lower body pushed down, back and forth; eyes squeezed firmly shut. Wonka began nipping at his neck where one of the razor leaves had cut the turtleneck open. He found a small wound inside and used the very tip of his now unoccupied tongue to moisten the blood. The coppery taste of that excited him significantly while his hands were running down and kneeding the boy’s cheeks, feeling the motion of his muscles. One hand clamped down hard through the fabric, fingers daring to press down in-between. A louder cry was sounded:
“AH!”
Two of the fingers pushed in as far into a particularly sensitive spot as they could as the motions sped up. Seconds later there was a warmth and a softness where the child had been rocking himself. Wonka watched as the boy’s face went from concentration, to ecstasy, to peace. Although his mouth was gaped open, the orgasm was silent this time, and from the looks of it - powerful. The boy gently collapsed back down; his warm face and breath resting near his mentor’s ear while his entire body pounded with a stead beat. Again, the chocolatier stayed tender, only smiling casually and brushing his hands over the heaving body as his heir recovered.
The man was again rewarded for his restraint when he felt a nervous hand begin to explore the stiffness of his reaction to the entire scenario. The boy had lifted himself up again slightly to look where he was touching. Verbal cues told him that this was a satisfactory thing to do:
“Mmmnnnn…”
The boy was glad because he really didn’t want to stop molding his fingers around its shape. Slowly he went lower downward as he got braver. He briefly and gently cupped his hand underneath before trailing back upward. A few heaved breathes with a whimper led to something that made the child pause along the way. He had literally felt the member grow in his grasp. The boy spoke for the first time in a while in order to say:
“You’re so…big.”
Wonka took a deep breath and reminded himself why he wasn’t going to rip the clothes off of the innocent waif at this very moment…twice. Although he couldn’t stop himself from whispering back in a slightly deeper voice:
“Oh, I can get bigger than that.”
The boy looked back into his eyes with a needy sounding whisper, “I want to make you feel good the way you did for me last time. Can I?”
Small probing fingers were placing themselves down the large tear, and under the waistband of the supportive undergarment. They dared to touch the very tip of what they found pressed up against the flat stomach. Lust getting the better of him, old habits returned and Wonka quickly held the boy’s hand in place, allowing it to go no further. He leaned upward to be face to face with Charlie again.
“Say, may I?” He insisted with a huff of breath.
Charlie was close enough to smell the sugar of his mentor’s voice. He was staring at that stained, well-shaped mouth. Going along with the game, he repeated in the same pleading tone, “May I?”
A glint appeared in his eyes. “Ok, but let’s make it more interesting.”
The statement was followed by him completely removing a torn piece of cloth from his already damaged outfit. This was done with a rapid and forceful movement, the nearby athame used to accomplish the task. The child’s body had stayed frozen in the erotic position while the man tied the strip of fabric around his eyes. “I told ya that sometimes I wear a blindfold to enhance my focus. Howzabout you try it?”
The boy noticed that without the vision of the treehouse or the exotic canopy through the window, the only thing that he was thinking about was what he was holding in his right hand. The distinct shape of the head and shaft became immediately apparent to his imagination as he slid his hand down further. An excited and slightly embarrassed giggle was met by a more throaty one from the person responsible for the discovery.
However, his laugh was cut short as there was no way to imagine how amazing it would feel when Charlie had to use his entire hand to wrap around himself. Another one of his wavering, imploring whimpers followed:
“Hhuuarmnnn…..”
Fingertips tickled up and down as they struggled to figure out where to position themselves. Mr. Wonka reached his own hand down; covering the boy’s to guide him in the new motions. Encouraging him to stroke up and then down. Through labored breath he said, “Remember…the rhythm…the…Ughhn!”
As usual, the child was a marvelously quick study (of course he had gotten a bit of practice recently). There was a beat coming from the very object that he was caressing. Candidly, the child began to comment on the sensations that his brain was able to so keenly focus on with his lack of vision. “The skin is so soft, but you feel soo hard.
If the boy kept talking like that he was going to loose control sooner than he wanted to. He reflexively put a hand over the boy’s mouth. Still using the other one to prop himself slightly upward. Panting, he said, “No…talking…hmmm…”
They reverted to their earlier silence, looking for physical signals in order to know how to react to each other. The boy began lengthening his strokes, moving further down his shaft. Two of Willy’s rubber-covered fingers found their way into the boy’s mouth during the process. The boy instinctively sucked on them as he had on the long tongue. That action fulfilled the promise of “getting bigger” only now it was straining directly into his heir’s bare hand. When the slim fingers found their way to the top again there was a slippery wetness. His mouth and tongue reacted to the gloved fingers as he would have liked to have done to that which he found there.
As the lips sucked further down his fingers and the tongue pressed against his fingertips, Willy opened one eye to examine the blindfolded child. This was a lot better than watching him eat a hot dog. He was warned against this fantasy, but there wasn’t anyone around to stop him at the moment, was there? He toyed with pulling his fingers in and out of the eager mouth before completely removing the long, wet digits. Lids heavy with need, he whispered into the ear of the perplexed face, “Wanna do that…down there?”
That was all the encouragement the boy needed. He was slightly anxious, but the blackness of his vision allowed a certain anonymity and mystery that relaxed his nerves. Also, he was really curious to try! Without words he traced his other hand and his head toward the adult’s pelvis, pulling the torn fabric down further. Only a very fine line of hair led him past the navel like a silky roadmap. Heavy breathes accompanied the next words spoken, turning himself on a bit as the chocolatier stated, “Remember that Mr. Wonka is…a very sensitive person and that…that is the most sensitive part of his body…you are about to put into…yer mouth.”
Charlie tilted his head and paused at that. Not because he spoke in the third person, but because that was quite true. Prone before his covered eyes and mouth he decided to treat this special body part with the same love that he felt for the rest of him.
The man couldn’t believe the next sensation that accompanied his visual feast; it was the sight and feeling of being kissed as passionately and delicately as his mouth had been earlier. A quick stroking lick was followed by another soft, lingering kiss. Along with a highly pitched sound of:
“Augh!”
Had the boy not known better, he might’ve mistaken it for a sound of pain. A strange feeling of power trickled into his mind. Any pleasure the man was feeling was a result of his actions. Each sound was like a reward for his cleverness. After that last noise, he felt it would be all right to proceed further. He used the tip of his tongue to guide him up to the top of the rod and put his mouth around the very end. Something like a gasping hiccup acknowledged the motion.
Every sensation was magnified for Willy Wonka. It felt like fireworks were going off inside of his body and as the tight mouth closed down over him it was like his mind was sent down into a far-away abyss of pleasure.
A unique sweet and salty flavor had encountered the boy’s tongue. He liked it and wanted more. A louder squeak was voiced when one of the boy’s hands wrapped around the base and another lower still while squeezing. Charlie was trying to mimic the motions that he had been doing to his mentor with his hand, but the object had gotten longer and wider so he was making up the difference with his hands. However, he was determined to try and get more into himself. He really did want to accept all of Mr. Wonka and this was how he was going to show it.
Pressure upon the back of his head pushed him to accomplish the task. Each time the boy rose up, he slid down a little further. The pleasently tormented noises had turned to growls that vibrated low and through the man’s body into the child’s mouth. Charlie hummed back in response as the last inch slid to the back of his throat.
Willy was certain that he had discovered new stars and planets – at least he thought that’s what all those flashing lights inside of his head might be. He felt the boy’s throat constrict as his gag reflexes kicked in. He couldn’t help feeling turned on by the reaction to his size or how the constriction felt in that second.
The boy didn’t bite or give-up despite his throat tightening a second time, he had great practice with being uncomfortable and adjusting to new challenges. This was no different. Once accustomed to the sensation, he simply sped up the process, sliding quickly up and down again with the pace of the man under him.
A third purposeful constriction and Wonka knew he couldn’t hold out any longer, one hand had dug down deep into the cushion while another tried to lift the boy’s head up. “Mmmnn…shooouuldn’t….”
He simply wasn’t going to be able to say anything comprehensible at this point.
Charlie couldn’t figure out why he was being pushed up at the same time that the man was thrusting into him. It was like he couldn’t make up his mind. Well, he could, he wanted to get the full taste of his mentor’s release. Fair was fair! A firm squeeze of his fist kept him attached and he got his desire. The warm liquid was thicker than his own and the sensation of tiny crystals of sugar dissolving on his tongue quickly made up for any salty or bitter qualities in the rest of the fluid. He swallowed all of it instantly. He heard Wonka exclaim in an exaggerated way, “WOW~!”
A second dose led to Charlie getting an ethereal tingling sensation throughout his body. It winded through him like electricity and caused him to climax a second time.
The man had was using one hand to grip a fistful of his own hair at the same time that he was gripping the boy’s. Nothing had prepared him for the feelings of these sensations! He could barely have a conscious thought that didn’t involve giving in to the forceful, urgent pulsing between his legs. However, before he convulsed again, he managed to grip his child lover by the material on his back and forcibly pulled him off.
Charlie had no choice but to obey and be held away from receiving another chance to swallow. However, he could hear sounds of his mentor moaning. While he could not lower himself back down, he could use his free arms to pull up the blindfold and see what he was missing. Seeing Mr. Wonka’s body arched in pleasure, teeth clenched, face in bliss while he pleased himself was a sight that would stay burned into the young boy’s mind. So was the sensation of being splattered with some of the powerful result. Flicking out his tongue, he was able to get a taste off his own face and receive another tingle – mild this time, but nonetheless intriguing. It felt as if he was sparkling like champagne. His far-away gaze trailed back to Willy panting with a satisfied groan.
The boy giggled and a pair of deep purple eyes flicked open.
“You peeked!” Wonka said in shock as he quickly slid himself back into the garment. He continued to hold Charlie like a kitten by his neck fat.
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.” He said wide-eyed. The boy was right, he hadn’t ‘forbidden’ such action only prevented it.
Charlie was thrilled for lots of reasons right now, but most of all because Mr. Wonka was the one blushing for once! Of course his cheeks were this lovely petal color as opposed to his own bright one but still! Mr. Wonka was blushing and he wasn’t! A small triumph!
“I can’t believe you watched me DO that!” The eyes flicked away, then widened recalling something that they had just seen. The man’s eyes immediately looked back. He wasn’t sure if he was horrified or aroused by the white stripe running up the boy’s form.
“Why? You looked when I did it. And besides you looked…um…” His mind recalled the image vividly, “you looked like a work of art.”
Wonka was completely flattered by that description; the worry and tenseness of his muscles relaxed. He pressed one hand to his chest and pulled Charlie back towards himself as he licked off the offending remains. His heir found that he didn’t mind being bathed in such a fashion at all. As soon as he was completely released, he immediately snuggled his mentor; a wonderful spacey, weightless feeling put a wide smile onto his cherub face. He repeated the man’s words from their intimacy yesterday, “I feel really close to you now.”
Willy cleared his throat, “Yes, well.” He giggled. “You should. No one has been that ‘close’ to me ever.”
“Mmmn.” The boy sighed against him. A cloud of musky chocolate scent enshrouded them. He looked up at him, “Why did you make me stop. I didn’t want to. You weren’t hurting me.”
Yes, hurting the lad should have been on his mind but it wasn’t his reasoning for the abrupt interruption. He looked into his heir’s eyes, “So, you’re OK? You don’t feel different or…strange?”
“No, I feel wonderful…” He said dreamily, “I feel more wonderful than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. You’re the best kept secret in this whole place.” He paused before saying with a smidge more energy, “Can’t we do it again sometime?”
Wonka was stunned; unfathomably grateful, mildly concerned, and absolutely stunned. A goofy laugh came out of him followed by a flutey, “We’ll see.”
“Mmmnn…” The boy snuggled into his frame more lovingly. “I promise to be a good little boy.”
No, really, he should be thanking some God right now – he was sure of it. He tilted his head and flashed one of his trademark smiles toward the boy, “Mr. Wonka might like it if you were a bad little boy sometimes too.”
A tired, muffled laugh came from under his arm. “You’re silly.”

Authors Notes: Ah, make-up sex is a wonderful thing. I think I’ll end it here, since if I was you, I don’t think I’d be reading any further or worrying about plot much at this point. So go ahead, scoot! Scoot! Off to whatever I’ve “inspired” this time.
To those of you who have stayed true, my undying gratitude for giving me an excuse to continue. Your words often provoke the characters to speak so that I get a clearer or even better ideas for how to make things happen that I forsee in my “crystal ball". Also, your gratitude makes it worth the eternal damnation that I am certain to suffer. Mentions to Dez, Miku, Kami. What wonderful comments! Thank you for taking the time to not only read the tale, but to mention how much you enjoyed it. Now, here's your reward. *winks*
One fan, Hatii was recently inspired to create this lovely work: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v329/Hatii/ForIdol.jpg Thank you! I'm very impressed!
A special dedication to Herald Soucree from www.adult-fanfiction.org - Your review was a burst of light in my own fictional darkness. In fact, you worded things so well that I couldn’t help but use one of those lines. Rants can be productive! And I appreciated that you gave thought as to whether or not I planned to do something in my work; very respectful. BTW, I luved the BDSM explanation and agree. *clinks your glass*
To see art based on this tale (and the one I titled "Cravings") as well as Wonka/Charlie in general, please visit the magnificently talented Looney Lucifer's "forbidden" archive at http://www.freewebs.com/wonkagoessplat/
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