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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
- 12
- 13
- 14
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 XIII
By: IDOL HANDS
Rating: Mature Demented Audiences (R)
Warnings: For dramatic and adult themes, alternate Paganism, sex magick, bondage undertones, violence, an under-aged/adult slash (Shota/Chan) relationship and a bit of spanking! Hot, fresh fan service coming right up.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. I am merely their pimp.
Summary: Afterglow and because he can’t do anything like a normal person, I present to you the ubiquitous shower scene…Wonka style. There are further developments within the factory, four little surprises await Charlie when he sees Madame Rose, and we see how Mr. Bucket has been getting along. Perhaps he will get a surprise of his own!

"I love my love with an H"

A floating feeling of euphoria spread through the two forms as they basked in the scents of heat, jungle, dirt, and each other: the most overpowering scent being the one of musk and chocolate. There were only a few feet of room on the window seat so the boy’s smaller frame was half laid on top of Wonka’s in order for them to fit together. Their minds, as well as their bodies, soared far above the canopy inside the multi-layered tree house.
The last golden ticket winner felt that he could have clung to the older man until the very end of time. Through the thin, skin-tight black body stockings he could feel every muscle and skeletal protrusion against his own. The taught stomach and navel were still completely exposed and Charlie made sure to keep one bare hand laid upon it, the very tops of his fingers under the lowest part of the rip. In his mind, he could nearly imagine what his demanding educator would look like completely in the buff; at least he still had those few quick flashes to call upon when he removed the makeshift blindfold (which was currently being worn as a bandana). Another ‘aftershock’ of the tingling sensation tickled inside his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was from the butterflies of his affection or from the creamy, sweet fluid that he had swallowed a moment ago. Either way, from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes, he simply felt good; like on the coveted days of his birthday when he was given his annual candy bar. It never mattered what flavor, as long as the rich chocolate was named after the man lying against him. Anything really was possible. There was magic. Another moment passed before the quirky voice vibrated inside the boy’s ear pressed to the muscular, slim chest.
“So, ah, do ya still want tah go home?” Wonka’s arm was still wrapped around his young, appreciative heir. There was this amazing peace inside of the chocolatier. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way…perhaps that was because he never had.
“Huh?” At this point, Charlie had no idea what his mentor was making reference to. The fit of hysteria had completely vanished. The youth groggily looked up at the ivory skinned face that was angled toward him, sculpted cheekbones and an angular jaw shown to their finest. The light coming in through the large window pulled out all of the auburn highlights within Willy’s brown hair. The overall shade of it was identical to his milk cocoa candies. Unlike their usual meticulous tidiness, the fire-like strands of the bob stuck out in various angles from all of the excitement of the day’s activities.
“At the very least, you must be starvin’. Ya barely ate breakfast and it’s way past lunchtime.” He spoke slightly above a whisper, though each word was carefully enunciated.
“Mmnn…really?” Lazily the boy reached up and began straightening the sloppy hair starting with the extremely short, choppy bangs; tweaking them back into their uniform downward spikes.
Wonka’s eyes followed the gestures of the small hand, making him go slightly cross-eyed in the process. In a barely suggestive tone, the child’s English accented voice added, “Thas’ funny ‘cause I’m not all that hungry.”
The purple eyes returned to forward and widened a bit followed by the wavering of a nervous chuckle. The boy gave his own giggle back in response and Wonka swore it sounded like the echoing of a thousand tiny silver bells. Was this all a dream? Some perverted fantasy that his mind had finally ran mad with? Was he going to wake up any minute now and find himself horribly alone for the four billionth time? Oh please let this be real. Please let him have found someone who he finally felt comfortable with. Someone gentle who knew the darker things that lived inside his soul and wouldn’t run away. Please?
Charlie was puzzled as to why Mr. Wonka had suddenly squeezed his eyes so tightly shut and kept them like that. “Wot’s the matter? Are you still embarrassed? You shouldn’t be, you taste absolutely amazing, all of you. I wish I did.”
The lavender optics were exposed again and zeroed in on Charlie in a mechanical way. This simple person could say the most remarkable, honest things. Only someone so completely untainted could accept him the way he was. The child’s deep sigh felt like a balloon releasing all of its air against the man’s body, assuring him of his physical presence. There he was all right, as real as those boxes of forbidden candy from his own disjointed childhood. Wonka put on his mask, which in actuality had become so much a part of him, that it hardly constituted application or falsification of any kind any longer. “Are ya kidding? You taste like morning dewdrops and spring breezes trapped inside marshmallows and the flesh at the core of Asian pears and about a dozen other special, delicate things…yeah.”
“I don’t.” The boy replied shyly.
“Uh-HUH.” The man insisted in a child-like manner, then the face grew kind (as it so rarely did), “I’d stick it in a bottle and drink it all day if I could, but I’d rather get it from the source.”
“…me too.” The boy said breathlessly as Wonka was turning and drawing his small shoulders upward inside the security of his arm, bringing his heir up toward his lips so that they could taste each other again. More experienced at kissing now, the different sized mouths easily fitted around each other so that they could melt them together.
On a wooden knob, across the room, in a forgotten plum suede tailcoat, a musical chime sounded. The traveling of the automated tinkering brought back the circular wideness of the room; a sense that there was more to the world than only the little corner that the mismatched pair were currently occupying. The wind-up melody was "Pure Imagination", but the time for dreaming was cut short.
A audible puckering noise came from the swift removal of the man’s lips. Staying on top of his face, Wonka gave a quick gasp and said, “That’s my pocket-watch! I’m late! For a very important date!”
The boy looked startled as the chocolatier then immediately picked up his languid form with himself, plopping the child upright upon the floor. “And so are you…my dear boy.”
The last words were said with more inflection than usual.
“Wot date? Where are we supposed to be? We can’t go anywhere like this!” Charlie was particularly concerned about the now mostly dry and stiff parts of his torn up black cat-suit. He most certainly didn’t want anyone seeing that! The boy crossed one arm to hold the shoulder of the other while crossing the other one near his hip, in the type of adorable gesture that an off-guard person might attempt to cover their nudity with.
“So we’ll bathe first!” Announced Wonka holding up one bare finger. He stared at his own skin with surprise. Forgotten he’d done that, the clauddagh ring was soo beautiful, maybe even more so knowing that the missing piece was on Charlie’s finger and it used to be mama’s…on her finger once…a long time ago. Oops, his mind wandered again, he refocused on the patient child, quickly adding after his intermittent pause, “Then change into fresh leotards. Heh, heh.”
Willy went about reopening the armoire and pulling out two new stretchy uniforms. When he turned around, he noticed that his companion was adjusting the band around his forehead, “Say, ah, you don’t have tah keep wearin’ that thing.”
Bashfully, the child replied, “But, I want it as…a sort of keepsake.”
Like it or not, there was a blush in his cheeks again; admitting to the man that he actually planned to keep thinking about what occurred. Whatever else would one do with such a ‘reminder’?
Willy smirked, the chocolatier knew he’d be thinkin’ about Charlie thinkin’ about it all over again and that realization was making him want to add to the treasure trove of memories, but there wasn’t time for any more of those sort of experiments. Fooey. His face shifted from a subtle leer to disappointment then settled on feigned virtuosity. Perkily he added, “All righty then, let it be yer new trademark.”
“Trademark?” The boy sort of liked the sound of that.
“Why not, I’ve certainly got my fair share of ‘em. And I can think of at least a hundred ways to tie that long piece of fabric around ya…so yeah, lots of options there…” There was a very distant look on Willy’s face as his widened eyes peered into his heir’s curious (and slightly intimidated) ones.
“Anyway, lets get to the rub-a-dub-dub part of our day, shall we?” And off he went with the bundle of clothes in his arms.
Charlie paused for only a second before followed right behind his sashaying friend as he went around the center column of the room, leaving behind the large fireplace that looked out over the den.
It was probably better that the little boy was so focused on Wonka’s enticing silhouette that he didn’t notice that there was a spit inside of the wide brick expanse; ideal for roasting an entire wild animal or anything else that could grow to be around six feet tall. Walking down a few stairs he discovered a sterile room that was tiled from top to bottom. The compact space contained the most intertwined system of odd-looking copper pipes and gears that he had ever seen. This room was some weird sort of space-age bathroom that one would never guess would be inside the rustic, nearly enchanted looking tree house. Always so many surprises!
The hissing of a door sliding down from above came right after they entered. The boy looked back behind himself as a clinking of mechanisms indicated that the door was now locking them inside the brightly lit area. “Mr. Wonka, if you’re the only one who can access the Secret Ingredients room than why do you need such a secure door to the bathroom?”
Willy was currently bent down adjusting valves, one after the other after the other. “Bubbles!” He answered pertinently, “Wouldn’t wanna get them all over my beautifully polished hardwood floors, would we?”
As usual Charlie had no idea what his inventive friend was talking about, but didn’t want to seem daft so he tried to figure out the puzzle of the words inside of his head rather than questioning it further. Wonka didn’t like too many questions anyway, they often got in the way of his unique sense of logic or what others might call illogic.
The man then stood up to open hidden drawers, pulling out a series of large glass bottles filled with clear, golden, and cherry-colored liquid. He handed some to the boy after twisting off their tops with explosive sounding bursts of various degrees, then excitedly commanded, “Here, pour these into the funnels. All of it!”
“waOooOOooH!” Juggling the heavy and open pop bottles in his twiggy arms wasn’t easy but the confectioner was too pre-occupied adjusting more gears to notice. “Wot’s in these bottles, Mr. Wonka ?”
“Ginger aid, ginger pop, ginger beer, bubble-aid, bubble cola, double bubble cola, and oh yes, double bubble burping cola! Powerful stuff!” He finally turned around and noticed that Charlie was struggling and hastily assisted him in the task, adding more and more litters of carbonation. “I used to use this for my Wonkamobile inside the factory. It got awful messy, so then I had tah come up with the Hsawaknow!”
“Ha-sah-wa-ka-wot?” The boy said.
That’s Wonkawash, spelled backwards. It reverses the process and instantly cleanes up the mess. Whenever I went through it I’d come out cleaner than when I’d started. So, I thought, duh Willy, why dontcha’ use THIS in yer washrooms? Using this tah scrub up saves me a lot of time for thinkin’ and ya don’t even have to change your clothes. It’ll do it for you! Got it?”
“We’re going to take a bath with soda?” Mr. Wonka was always saying the most impossible things, always stretching his heir’s imagination past its breaking point.
“Ahh…yup! Don’t worry I’ll go first. It’s a sinch, you’ll see!” Wonka unceremoniously chucked their clean clothes into a giant washing machine looking device that seemed to suck them down a black hole while Charlie stared into it:
TthHhwuuP!
He pulled off his suede boots and threw them in too with a slightly smaller sound:
Thwip-thwuuP!

“Toss me one last bottle, kiddo.” Wonka held out his hand and skillfully caught the airborne glass container like a football. Standing on tip-toe to get at a tiny funnel, the chocolatier nearly lost his balance. A small body quickly found it’s way under one arm to steady him. Wonka gave him a smile, “Never fear! Charlie’s here!”
A sheepish smile was given in return, “Stop, I couldn’t really save you.”
“Oh my goodness, but you already have! Don’t you realize that?” Wonka spoke the words with absolute sincerity. Without his heels, he was a few inches closer than usual to the lad’s face. Staring into the kind, admiring blueness of Charlie’s gaze he realized that he couldn’t always take everything that was inside the window’s to his soul either. There was a lost, nearly forgotten piece of himself in there as there was a hidden, sad part of Charlie inside of his own. The chocolatier was going to release more emotion that he could stand if he didn’t change the subject quickly. He looked away from the awestruck boy and cleared his throat, “Now, button, button, who’s got the button?!”
“Is this the one?” Charlie said with a finger poised above a glowing object near him. Usually Wonka made his important buttons and knobs a shiny red crayon color. Probably because he always forgot where he put them. This one was no exception to either rule.
“Sure is! PUSH IT!” He grinned widely with the anticipation of showing off another impressive invention.
A clustering of odd noises began coming from every side of the room:
Blurk!
Ka-chitty-chitty-bang-bang
PSssstTiiccCCK!
Clang! Chukita! Chukita-chhuckita...
…splurt! blup-blup-blupsize=“4”>BLURP!
Followed by bursts of thick, sudsy white foam spewing from the funnels. Small torrents shot everywhere from the trumpet sized cones one shot across Charlie’s form in a familiar fashion causing the boy to laugh while putting up his hands in front of his face. The foam was warm and surprisingly tasty! But not anywhere near as good as his previous treat.
Suddenly, four mechanical arms flung out and grabbed the man in front of him. Each one grabbed one limb. They gracefully began pulling Willy down the short passage. The chocolatier’s head turned over one shoulder as the main tuba burst forth a loud torrent of soda fizz. In one last motion, he swiped the bandana off his heir’s head and shouted, “See ya on the flip side!”
Charlie kept watching as his benefactor was pulled down the narrow area, foam flowing higher and higher up the walls and all over the two of them until he couldn’t see anything anymore. Then the sensation of clamping devices on each of his limbs arrived. Unsure how to steady himself the boy’s support off the slippery floor was considerably less graceful as he wobbled back and forth. The grippers locked in place and he could wiggle no more; legs apart, arms slightly behind and above his back.
In another instant, there were new extensions emerging with brushes and swabs. The child felt as if he were inside of a carwash! It was the oddest sensation! Next, his suit was delicately and precisely cut so that it could be completely torn free. There was another swab around and into an area that had never been so thoroughly cleaned before in its life: slightly more penetrating than a pair of fingers through the suit had been. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant though it was startling.
“Ah!” was the only sound he made before foam filled that orifice too. The child tried to close his mouth but a smooth round pole had already inserted itself there too!
“Uhhn?” Tiny, fine bristles tickled his gums and into every dental gap. The thing was cleaning his teeth! At the same time more equipment gave him a jarring loofah all over his body. His arms were pulled upward while the scrubbing mechanisms got under them. He was being gently pulled around like a human marionette. One stretch of fabric gave his bottom a thorough scrub like one would polish a bowling ball. A new device had extended and cupped over his frontal anatomy, added suction and draining him of all the fluid in his bladder. That was not the way he would have ever intended for that bodily function to occur! However, he knew astronauts had the exact same device on spacecrafts and he did need the relief after all those hours.
From above a deluge of pleasantly warm water fell down his form, causing the white globs of suds to slide down his slim, suspended physique. All of the cleaning and inserted devices retracted back into the pip-lined wall. He tilted his head upward and caught some of the sweet, clean water into his mouth for a gargle.
A sudden gust of hot air from an arc of hair-dryers blew away the last bits of bubble and dried his damp skin. Finally, he could see again, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant scene to behold. The false hand clamps were pushing him straight into the abyss of the open washing machine. Lifted off the floor, naked and eyes wide, there was nothing he could do but comply!
He shouted as he went down the shoot - halfway between enjoying it and being scared out of his wits. It felt like he was being squeezed like a wet towel, like every molecule of his body was being dried. In less time than it took to have that thought, slaps of cool air hit him as he fell through the bottom of the vortex and onto a bouncy, plush surface. He was completely head over heals. Upside down and staring through his split legs he could see Mr. Wonka sitting patiently on a desk. His plum tailcoat, gloves, and lace accessories were back in place. There was also a remote in one hand and the former blindfold in the other. How he managed to hang on to it during his own Hsawaknow experience was an utter mystery to the child. It was being dangled out for Charlie to take.
The boy completed the summersault that he had already been half-positioned into. Instantly righting himself onto all fours, hastily examining his body for damage, or even worse, nudity. He was relieved to find that he was very much in a new catsuit with his handmade poncho back in place. Amazing! He looked back at his mentor with pleasently befuddled blinking. A loud burp suddenly snuck out of him. His hand was instantly over the offending mouth with an alarmed, “Pardon me!”
Willy laughed and tossed the boy the fabric, “Ya swallowed too much foam. Other than that, how ya feelin’?”
“Fluffy.” His hands were patting at his somewhat poofy, freshly blow-dried hair as he put the band back in place.
A wide, wicked grin filled his mentor’s face while the eyes focused above the boy’s form.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Said the child with a suspicious tone.
“Cause.” Willy pointed toward the wall that Charlie had fallen in front of.
His heir slipped off the big cushion and backed up to look where Wonka was staring. Above where he fell was an enormous, flat screen television divided into sections. Each one was showing a different area of the factory, some of the views changing constantly. The man hit a button on his sleek remote and one of the larger screens began rewinding. When ‘play’ was pushed, Charlie got to see images of himself being molested by the machinery in detail followed by the water washing him off.
His mouth dropped open, “You filmed my bath!”
“Well, I had tah made sure that you were OK didn’t I? I set that do-hickey on extra-thorough fer your sake.” The smile had dropped and turned into mock seriousness.
The child squeaked, then managed to say, “But!”
Wrong word to choose! He kept going anyway, “I was in the all together! And wot do you mean by EXTRA-thorough? You mean all those-those devices weren’t absolutely necessary?!”
“Hey, one good peek deserves another and only the stars above know the last time you were able to take a real hot bath in that shack the seven of ya live in. I bet we got years of soot off.” The comment was followed by another click of the remote. He wanted to watch the footage one more time.
“Just because we were poor didn’t mean we weren’t clean, Mr. Wonka. My mum even swept and mopped the floors every other day.” The boy had a huffy look on his face: a miniature version of his father’s disgruntled one.
“Check yer ears.” Mr. Wonka said flatly in response.
The child did so and found them to be far cleaner than they had ever been in his life. In fact he didn’t know they could get that clean. Then he ran his tongue over his teeth, they were as smooth as the tiles on the bathroom floor. Not to mention he felt like his insides got flossed and…was it possible to feel minty clean in your naughty bits? He wiggled his tush with a pondering expression.
“Huh? Huh? Wud I tell ya? NOW yer clean.” A proud, twinkling smile accompanied the statement.
Charlie sighed. How could he argue? Instead he said with amused annoyance, “It’s always going to be this way with you, isn’t it?”
A flick of the eyes up into a thoughtful expression was followed with, “Pretty much. C’mon, admit it, ya wouldn’t want it any other way.”
The boy tossed his arms in the air with a surrendering gesture.
Wonka’s grin widened, he popped off of the desk and went to sit in the leather upholstered chair. Clicking the remote again, he suddenly announced toward the screen, “Georgie boy! Howsit goin’?”
“Wonka! I’ve been sitting here waiting for your damn call for half an hour now!” A familiar voice made the boy’s ears perk up. He turned to see a large display of his grandfather.
“Sorry,” Wonka apologized and made motions with his hands to highlight his choice of words, “I was uh, really…INTO something. Lost all track of time!”
Charlie turned away from the television and glared at him.
Willy gave a short, brayed laugh. Aw, who knew kittens could glare?
“I only got impatient because I have good news! Remember those stories that you planted in the news to panic that holdout broadcasting company? It must have lit a real fire under their areses because now they’re desperate to get in on Wonkavision?!” George gave an impressed chuckle and held up the papers for Wonka to examine.
The boy walked over to behind the desk, interested in both the subject and seeing his relative. The chocolatier’s eyes were darting back and forth in a way that his heir knew meant he was actually reading the articles that quickly. Without removing his eyes from the screen his arm reached out and pulled Charlie onto his knee. Heart rate pulsing, the youth gave a panicked look at him.
“He can only see us from the shoulders up.” Was intimately whispered into the child’s ear while the reading continued. Newspaper and magazine text were the only things filling the monitor. They were on the other side of the column that ran through the center of the treehouse, but one would ever know what the rest of the place looked like based on the area that Mr. Wonka was currently sitting at. The desk and the entire area were designed like a backdrop on the set of a movie; lush, velvet curtains concealed the expanse of the jungle.
Willy finished with a smug twist at the turn of his mouth. He cheerfully cued the older man to stop with a, “Kay! All done!”
Grandpa George put down all of the reading material and focused on his grandson who had come into view, “Good afternoon Charlie! How nice to see you! Did the self-defense training go well?”
Wonka flicked his eyelashes downward toward his heir but made no other movement. The child calmly replied, “Mr. Wonka put me in a real combat situation and…I learned a lot.”
“So did I!” Chirped Wonka. He added with a fondness in his voice and a tilt of his head toward the boy, “I’ve never met anyone as brave as they were gentle.”
“mpf.” His heir lowered his eyes with an embarrassed puff of air.
“Yeah, Charlie makes us look like a couple of crusty old men. I was a kinder sort of person before the wars.” The older man’s icy blue eyes showed the depth of those memories.
“Oh? You were in the military?” The chocolatier was genuinely interested in that fact though he most certainly did not agree with being described as ‘crusty’. Ew. He’d rather be ‘crispy’.
A solitary nod followed from Grandpa George. “Joe was lucky to be flat-footed, I got drafted more than once. I don’t like to talk about it.”
Wonka nodded back with a solemn. “I…understand.”
There was a pause.
Charlie knew that both men were speaking the truth. He decided to lighten up the mood again, “So now all the broadcasting companies across the whole wide world will be connected to Wonkavision??”
“Yep, just as soon as that hold-out pays me DOUBLE what I was askin’ before. Ya snooze, ya loose, baby.” A chortle was exchanged between both men. The mood had lightened, but not in a way that the boy anticipated.
“Your benefactor is one heck of a businessman Charlie. I think he plays up that balmy bit to throw off the competition.” He leaned into the camera with that stern look he got from lowering his bushy brows, “You better be listening to everything he says, young man.”
“Yes sir.” The child repressed showing any emotion in reaction to that comment.
Wonka was less successful in suppressing his, but the devilish look went with the previous conversation going unnoticed by the family member.
“I still can’t believe he’s black-mailing bloody NASA!” Exclaimed the man with a slap of his palm to his unseen knee.
“Black-mailing is such an ugly word, George.” Willy looked into the questioning eyes of his pupil then back at the sceen. “It’s a…mutual agreement of…discretion. Yeah. Besides, once the dish is launched, I’m turnin’ the rest into a hotel which they can recoup a lot of funds from. Think of how much people will be willin’ tah pay to vacation in outer space! That’s a lotta money for research.”
“And not a bad way to get the National Aeronautics and Space Administration to put their best engineers keeping the craft up and running.” Said Grandpa George wryly.
“Heh. Well, it IS in their best interests tah keep it in workin’ order. I’m not completely misanthropic. ‘Specially where the government is concerned.” The boy on his knee squirmed as a hand was slowly brushed up his thigh.
“I hear you.” The silver-haired man closed his eyes and nodded, his down-turned features making his face look like rippled clay on a potter’s wheel.
“Saaay, I’ve got good news too. Ya remember that new thing I’ve been workin’ on? The one we talked about *ahem* last night over drinks?” A new crafty glint was in his eyes.
“Oh good Lord, yes! Wot about it then?” The old man’s eyes had widened greatly.
“Charlie helped me get the last ingredients for it today!” The chocolatier knew this information would be even less of a reason that the family should ever object to any detail that the lad just might ever mention to them about the brutal harvesting. After all, who would stand in the way of a miracle?
“Thas’ marvelous! Good job, young man, VERY good job!” Congratulated Grandpa George.
Charlie looked quizzically at Wonka who only gave the flash of a wink in response. “All right, it’s been a delight, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.” The man gave a tip of his infamous black satin top hat.
“Over and out, Wonka.” The senior man in the bathrobe gave a stiff salute with his hand.
The portion of the screen with his grandfather’s face turned black.
“Tell me!” The child immediately demanded in an excited voice.
“My, oh me, have we forgotten our manners so quickly? Am I going to have to make your bottom all prickly?” The shadowed lids of his eyes fluttering and an apple-cheeked smile accompanied the threat.
“Uhh..” Charlie wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Usually this pleading method worked fairly well. Yet, this offer wasn’t entirely unappealing. An apology would get him out of trouble so that wasn’t the way to go. Hadn’t he been asked to misbehave sometimes?
Sure enough the lack of response got him pulled by the stretchy garment and tugged over the man’s lap with a powerful slap on his freshly bathed and therefore especially sensitive behind. At that angle and broad as the man’s hand was, it managed to whack both cheeks aaand an even more sensitive set of body parts that were suspended tightly underneath them.
“OH!” He exclaimed, mouth wide open. An array of reactions went shooting through his entire body. Wasn’t punishment supposed to feel bad? The second whack on top of the sting felt even more interesting! After that Charlie was yanked back up again.
“Any more than that and you’ll get all sticky.” Came another line of rhyme. A latex-covered finger was waved in his face accompanied by the same saccharine look.
A short pant came from the flushed child. “Yes…sir.”
Wonka glanced at the tiny erect nipples showing through the boy’s outfit. As he suspected, Charlie wasn’t truly harmed by the ordeal. Double fooey. Darn his tight…schedule. The man released the child. Then he got up and primped at his outfit. “Glad we understand each other again ‘cause we gotta deliver those ingredients and then there’s a few other things that need to be--”
There was a sudden sharp, little pinch on his famous behind. Willy stopped in mid tug of his lace cuff, face frozen.
The boy giggled. He pulled the same trick that his dad had with his mum. As soon as Wonka turned his head, Charlie took off like a shot and shouted, “Last one to the Great Glass Elevator is a rotten egg!”

The Oompa-loompas of the Inventing Room were amused at how informal their entrusted employers were behaving upon arrival. They carefully took all but one of the cooler boxes. The sleek design allowed them to interlock and be stacked one upon the other. A bucket brigade of miniature men passed them down a line to the appropriate sectors of unconventional laboratory machinery; humming rhythms as they did so.
Meanwhile, a game of ‘catch me if you can’ was being played around the various pieces of equipment. The mystery of the predominantly black and silver room was disrupted by the sounds of Charlie screaming in delight as he dashed away from the playfully snarling man. The boy was running him in circles and back again; madly dashing under tubes, past countless vats, bubbling fluids and around brightly colored glowing gears. Finally, he crouched under what he thought was a nicely hidden spot while Willy’s boots clicked past him.
One of the dark-eyed, tan skinned men pointed and a top-hatted head suddenly bent down to meet the trapped victim. The child shouted, “Using Oompa-loompas is cheating!”
“Says who?” Dismissed Wonka.
“Says me!” Insisted Charlie.
“Says I.” Corrected the dominant mentor.
“You have no business correcting other people’s grammar.” Came a familiar, strangely timbered voice.
“Madame Rose!” Charlie said brightly, he slipped out of his hiding place safely past his fancifully dressed hunter and over to the wise, white-haired female Oompa-loompa. She was wearing another puffy dress that fell to the ground, but this one had leopard spots instead of the caterpillar ones from yesterday. He wanted to gently hug her, but stopped when he saw that every worker in the room had crossed their arms and bowed their head. From the glossy floor to the various narrow platforms not one of the men in the slick black jumpsuits was moving. Even the constant jumbled sounds of the machinery had lowered to quiet decibals.
The sound of Wonka’s heels coming to rest next to his heir was the only noise before a deep, unified chanting began:
HHhhhmmooMMMmmmmmmm-pa!
HHhhhmmooMMMmmmmmmm-pa!
The boy was so impressed that he found himself crossing his arms and bowing his head as the other dark-skinned people had done. Wonka gave him a backhanded slap to discourage the posture, shaking his head when the child made eye contact.
HHhhhmmooMMMmmmmmm-pa!
The tiny woman raised up her arms into a point with a serious look she cheered, “LoooOOOOm-PAH!”
The men lined up all over the room lifted up their own arms into the same position and shouted back in masculine tones:
“LoooOOOOm-PAH!”
She slowly turned around in a 360° circle to look across the room though her light colored milky eyes could not truly see anyone. The tiny woman with the fanned hair ended by facing Charlie again as all the men returned to their work. “Where have you been Restorer? We prepared a meal in your honor. Word of your culinary deeds traveled through the whole factory and some secret admirers wanted to mimic their new hero.”
“Me, a hero with secret admires?! Really?” Said the boy still in awe of the entire spectacle that he had beheld.
“Most certainly. We all strive to impress the Rescuer and you manage to do it every day. After all, you are his chosen one.” She spread out her hands with the palms turned out.
‘Chosen one’, sounded a lot different than ‘grand prize winner’ or ‘the least rotten’. Charlie looked up at Mr. Wonka whose face had become inscrutable. The brown-haired boy tilted his head back downward, “Madame Rose, why did the other Oompa-loompas do that greeting for you?”
“Because I am the eldest of our people and that is not an easy accomplishment in Loompaland as you experienced first hand today.” Word of that had spread as well. It meant a great deal to the small people that Wonka’s heir had seen and taken on the monsters of their homeland. It was another reason for the day’s mission. Candy making didn’t have to have a purpose, but raising an heir most certainly did.
“She’s the alpha female.” Added Wonka.
The phrase ‘alpha’ was new to the boy and this enhanced his understanding of it. So, people could be labeled in that way too, he thought, while eying his mentor.
“Now, come sit and eat. We have several surprises for you.” Madame Rose held out her hand and a nearby Oompa-loompa worker carefully guided her across the room toward the assembled arrangement.
The child was led to a rectangular fold out table off to the side of the room. The glossy black surface was decorated with a colorful array of miniature candy topiaries and multiple silver platters with elegant covers. However, what really had the boy’s attention was the group of four child Oompa-loompas in shiny, jumpsuits with argyle bands across the front of their uniforms.
Willy smiled, “Ta-DAH! Surprise! Charlie, I’m givin’ ya yer own personal team of Oompa-loompas! They will all take their orders directly from you. Meet Summer, Winter, Spring, and Autumn. Autumn, is the first girl tah ever be part of an inventing team!”
Charlie was bowled over! What a surprise! And they were completely adorable, each of them staring at him with eager eyes in outfits that were an homage to his original sweater. Since they were young, their swirled top-notches hadn’t grown in yet. Instead each had spiked, wind-blown looking hair like troll dolls. August only differed from her team by way of a small pair of earrings shaped like cocoa beans. The workers came up to about his knee, just like the adult ones did on Mr. Wonka. Gosh, it really made him wish he had his top hat.
“Thank you!” He enthusiastically reached around the man’s waist with an appreciative hug as Violet had done, only this time it was quite welcome. The Oompa-loompas were glad that both males were pleased.
Madame Rose spoke next, “And each one prepared a dish especially for you to try.”
“They’re so young and they already know how to cook?” Said the boy, impressed.
“The same could be said about you.” Reminded the tiny, old woman.
Charlie couldn’t wait to get to know his team! He put out his finger for each one to shake and eagerly began talking. He also shared his own basket of baked goodies with them in exchange for the dishes that were prepared in his honor. Clearly they were intimidated, but soon after seeing ‘Wonka’s heart’ use his limited Loompish, tiny voices began clustering for attention from their new young boss. Wonka was more deeply pleased than he could have imagined. A warm feeling filled his him as he quietly watched the entire scene unfold from a slight distance.
His entrusted personal advisor, who had come to stand beside him, interrupted the elation. “Could I borrow your cane for a moment?”
“Certainly.” He handed it to her without tearing his eyes away from the gathering.
Bap!
“Ouch! What didja do that for?” Willy rubbed the spot of his leg where the old woman had given him a good bop.
“Why is that child glowing with magick? What have you two been doing besides gathering ingredients?” Accusation was in her eyes despite their lack of normal vision.
“N-nothing…I-we had a quarrel and then we…um, made up. Heh,heh,heh.” His giggle did nothing to improve her scrunched up glower. “He only got a little taste.”
Bap!
“I knew it! I should’ve had you wear a chastity belt.” She hissed, her tin sounding voice hitting odd octaves.
The pair turned around and stepped further away from the lunch spread. Willy asked, “Wut’s the big deal anyway? He’s fine and I feel fantastic!”
“He’s filled with unfocused, very powerful energy. That’s the ‘big deal’! There’s no telling what form it could take since you didn’t get it back out of him.” Her small head shook back and forth in disapproval.
“…oh. Well, he did, uh…react after the first…” He halted his words, “Um, can I have my cane back?”
“Finish your sentence.” She held the borrowed staff tighter.
Wonka took a good step backwards, “…swallow.”
The old woman sighed and nearly laughed, “That’s one passionate reaction you cause. Such a fortunate partner. At least that will be a bit less magick than he could be carrying around.”
“Then ah…why don’t I just drain him of the rest?” An eyebrow arched at the mere prospect of that.
“Too late. He’ll have absorbed it all by now. I hope there aren’t any uncontrollable consequences from your inability to control yourself.” The little woman gave him a prod from the horn on the handle then allowed him to have the item back.
The man had a slightly guilty look on his face as he took it. He twirled the cane by its handle for a second. “Yer always sayin’ that all things happen for a reason. And besides…”
The man warily looked around then crouched down to her diminutive ear, “I got some extra special ingredients in that last cooler on the elevator.”
A very knowing expression came across her face. “Then we’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t we?”
Willy Wonka walked back over to his heir who was still joyfully consuming food and engaging with his new team. All four of the young Oompa-loompas grew stoic as the man tilted down to speak to the seated child. “Charlie, myself and Madame Rose have some business to attend to. I want you to stay here and keep workin’ with ya new team. ‘Kay?”
“Oh, but..won’t I see you again today?” There was a definite longing in his voice and concern on his face.
“Uh, well, this could take some time. Tell ya what though, I’ll be sure to take a break and come find ya before dinner.” The sweetness in his tone was earnest for a change.
Charlie lowered his eyes for a second. “…all right. Can I ask one question before you go?”
Willy laughed and grabbed the scoop of the boy’s nose in a playful tug, “Always so many questions. What’s up doc?”
The boy shyly proceeded, “When Madame Rose called me your ‘chosen one’ did that mean that you did pick me from the other golden ticket winners or not?”
Wonka considered while twisting his fingers around the brim of his hat at the same time that he traced the tip of his tongue over his upper lip, “Sometimes, it’s hard tah know whether something chooses us or if we chose it. Either way, I ain’t complaining.”
Charlie gave his sweet, crooked, deeply dimpled smile. Light danced in his eyes in a way that was similar to his benefactor’s. He liked the answer, but couldn’t resist saying, “Ain’t isn’t a word, Mr. Wonka.”
The man gave him an amused look and stood up. “Why dontcha’ try conjuring up some new ideas. I’ve got a hunch you’ve got the Midas touch today.”
“Mm! Yes sir!” The boy gave an enthusiastic nod and turned to his quartet. “Let’s work on the raspberry kites after lunch!”
They all crossed their arms over their chests with a slap against their shoulders in response. Wonka gave a toothy grin with a twist of his head. Perfect, he thought and started to walk away with a bounce of his hair.
“Wait!” Charlie’s voice called after him.
When the chocolatier turned around, he saw the boy right behind him holding up a napkin with a plump sandwich inside. “Here. You haven’t had anything to eat.”
“Why, thank you.” He took the food with a gentle gratitude and the thought of Mrs. Bucket crossed both of their minds. There was an intense second of eye contact before the child dashed back to his team. The man made sure his heir was back at the table before he crooked his finger at one of the lead workers. He leaned down and stated, “I recently got an idea for a new sort of candy. I want ya to make a room called Fill By Mouth.”
The two exchanged a chuckle before the man got onto the elevator with Madame Rose and the cube-shaped storage device. Wonka pushed a button called, Secret Room.
“Shameless.” The old woman tisked at the smiling man as the vehicle zipped away.

Perhaps because he could focus better at the task at hand, Willy’s plans for the satellite were finally making some sense to Mr. Bucket in the Reverse Engineering Room. Or perhaps it was because he’d be knackered if someone was going to suggest that he wasn’t bright enough to figure them out himself. At any rate, the problem was that he had not understood that Mr. Wonka appeared to want living quarters inside the device. Heavens only knew what they were for. He abhorred the idea of his entire family living in outer space. The chocolate factory was far-out enough, thank you very much!
What really caught his attention were the small emergency capsules that were also to be installed. Handy little vehicles they were, he thought. The machine was absolutely “ginormous” as the chocolatier would put it. The rest of us would probably settle for huge, as an appropriate description, but that wouldn’t completely describe its whale of a size, made all the more terrifying by it’s suspension from the ceiling. This was necessary in order to allow entry and construction through the underbelly of it.
Mr. Bucket had decided to keep working on the thing partly to impress his son, although he wasn’t feeling terribly confident about doing anything that would make Willy Wonka even more powerful and famous. That seemed rather difficult to avoid in his current set of circumstances though. Another motivator to keep plugging away at it, were the tiny men giving him a lot of sideways glances. He found himself as grateful as Mr. Wonka for the over-sized spectacles today; at least with those on, none of the little buggers could see into his paranoid eyes. He nervously wiped at the side of his face with a greasy glove. It didn’t matter, he was already well marked with sweat and oil from his hard work of the day anyhow. The steel processing and welding really heated up the space which was fine if you were from Loompaland, but a bit warm for the rest of us.
At the moment he was scaling up the side of the metal behemoth; glancing between the blueprints (which Wonka had printed in purple, so technically they were ‘purpleprints’ by his boggling logic) and the gizmo. His body was held safely in place by a harness that resembled those worn by mountain climbers; straps criss-crossing under his arms and crotch with a band around his waist hooked to lots of rope. He freely bounced from one area to another by use of his thickly soled rubber boots, using the pullies to move up and down at will.
The dish was capable of broadcasting to all the major television satellites already in orbit. Mr. Wonka had provided him with information about that as well. The engineer had no idea how many unmanned vessels were circling around our planet until this project. In order to make Wonkavision™ work, this satellite would actually need to be compatible with all the other broadcasting equipment out there. It wasn’t an easy task, but Wonka seemed completely undaunted. He even got the other companies to be compliant about their codes. No one wanted to be left out of the new technological loop and the chocolatier could be very silver-tongued about his promises; easily playing the competing companies against each other. His best methods were through controlled press leaks; it was dastardly clever. Many times they ended up contacting him. Very manipulative fellow, but according to him, their own greed and jealousy against their competitor was to blame. Otherwise, he’d have nowhere to maneuver.
The eldest Bucket member, Grandpa Joe, had regaled all of this over meals. Again, Mr. Wonka was clever by making an extremely warm and likable man his main Public Relations person. It was often assumed that the reclusive candy maker would be of a similar nature. Huh, if they only knew, thought the engineer. Although, like it or not, one had to be a bit impressed. The chocolatier had played the billion dollar conglomerates like a fiddle. That was only amusing if such abilities didn’t extend to their very own family.
However, if Willy thought TWO members of the Bucket family were concerned about his actions, than the anxious man’s own nerves might get the best of him and scare him off any far-fetched notions that might have crept into his demented skull about Charlie. Assuming of course that he really was on to something. Otherwise, Mr. Bucket figured he simply was hedging his bets. He didn’t need Willy Wonka to like him as much as he needed him to know that he was still the little boy’s father…and very much married to his mother!
The Bucket father thought back to when his wife had told him that she was pregnant. It had seemed like a miracle. They had been trying without any success for years. They were fairly certain that there was something wrong with one of them. Mr. Bucket always suspected that it was himself. He didn’t take very good care of himself when he was a younger man. Blame it on boredom, frustration, poor choices, depression – it got out of hand. His wife put up with a lot, but all that changed when Charlie came around. A son! He swore he’d be a different sort of bloke and worked tirelessly at underpaid, boring jobs: one after the other. His wife ended up giving up her part-time baking job. She had to stay home to take care of their aging parents (who didn’t do much, but refused to pass on either) and raise the new life. Why, if it hadn’t been for the blessing of their child they wouldn’t have had anything to look forward to in their lives. It did weigh on his soul though…what kind of life they had given the boy. I mean, one bar of chocolate a year? It wasn’t human. It was no kind of life for a child. Had any damage been done? Is that why the rebellion was coming to surface under his new lifestyle and tutelage?
It hurt way too much to imagine that Willy Wonka could possibly give Charlie a much better life than the Buckets could. Besides, they were on their way up before Willy changed his addled mind. It wasn’t like they really needed him. No, not really. In fact, the Buckets were doing HIM a favor. Yes, that was more like it. Reasoning it out, he really did have the upper hand over the chocolatier. They could pack their things and go at any time. They were perfectly within their rights to do such. Willy Wonka couldn’t stop them. Not by law. They weren’t bloody prisoners. He’d have to talk to Charlie before they did anything that drastic. Then again, if he thought like the candyman, he wouldn’t consult his son – merely remind Wonka of that fragile little fact. That might keep his bum in a proper pair of trousers!
Down below he noticed that more metals were being melted and soldered. Large cauldrons of copper, aluminum, steel and even gold blazed in different hues; glowing like lava inside of a volcanos. The Oompa-Loompas on a near-by platform were motioning for him to come over and supervise a particularly large vat. Today didn’t feel like a good day to do that. He shook his head and motioned for them to proceed without him. Thank goodness they understood regular hand gestures as well as their own language. The tiny men motioned again for him to come over. Mr. Bucket held up the prints with a grin that he copied from Willy Wonka while exaggeratingly pointing at the paper. He thought - No, no, I’m much too busy doing this to get shoved into a pot of scalding hot metal. Cheers!
In actuality the father wasn’t sure they were plotting his death, but he didn’t mind erring on the side of caution either. A succession of Loompa giggles followed his second refusal. Oh great, they think it’s funny that I currently fear for my life. Right-o, that’s completely hysterical. He thought sarcastically while grinning more widely at them. Then, he caught his own reflection and flinched at how much it looked like the man he currently hated. Yikes! Is this how one goes mad then?
The sound loud snap distracted his moment of irony. It seemed that the joke was on the Oompa-Loompas as a thin railing suddenly broke from the excess heat. Four of them hung on to each other for support, but a fifth one had been too close to the edge and was currently gripping to what was left of the scaffolding. The other four seemed mesmerized by the sight of their fellow worker dangling dangerously above the large molten vat.
Mr. Bucket was only horrified for a moment. He dropped the “purpleprints” allowing them to scatter across the floor and undid some of the harness devices holding him in place. Faster than he thought he would, his body swung toward the collapsing supports from the higher angle of the Satellite’s body. He gripped onto a sturdy pole to steady himself before releasing more rope. Sideways and slowly, he slipped toward the dangling man: the updraft of the heat and his nerves causing him to perspire immediately. The colors of the shiny outfits were nearly lost in the angry orange flame. Stretching his arm as far as he could still didn’t quite reach. He released more rope, sliding closer still to the scalding hot vat. The toddler-sized hand was reaching up toward his own. His tiny boot had started to melt and actual terror could be seen in his dark eyes. A huge liquid metal bubble popped, throwing scalding material everywhere; some splattered onto his extended arm and across some of the Loompa. Where the silvery material was, they were protected. However, Mr. Bucket had insisted on a shirt under his overalls; rather than a giant, identical jumpsuit to the workers. His arm took some damage as he released an agonizing scream. Still, he didn’t withdraw the limb.
Finally they made contact.
“Pull me UP!” Hollered Mr. Bucket, tears of pain escaping his eyes. “Pull me up NOW, damn it!”
It took the efforts of six of them to do the task. At the same time another group had finally turned off the boiling metal. Not that it would be cooling down any time soon; the hissing and bubbling barely slowed. The uncomfortable gripping surface of the scaffolding felt wonderful beneath him. Then again, any solid surface at this point would. Only once he was safe on a sturdy part of the construction area did he realize what he had done. He had reacted without thinking. Reflexively, Mr. Bucket had been cradling the fallen creature. He couldn’t really feel anything in his burned arm and avoided even looking at it. Smoke trailed off both bodies.
The Oompa-Loompas had dashed over and were looking up at him completely startled. Mr. Bucket had not spent much time eye to eye with the pigmy type people, but sitting down caused that to happen and caused one to have a very different perspective of them as a result. They weren’t dolls when you looked right into their faces. The eyes of the small man he had saved were filled with great bewilderment or perhaps wonderment. The older man had thought it might be on account of being held like a child; which is probably what he had been equating him with when he swept into action in the first place. No other thoughts filled his mind as he passed into a black oblivion from shock and collapsed.

Author’s Notes:
"Are you feelin' lucky today, punk? Well, are ya?" is a quote from Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry. I don't like everything the man has done in his life, but I'm a big fan of his films.
“I love my love with an H”, is a quote from the novel, Alice in Wonderland as are the majority of my Chapter titles. In this case, the quote refers to an Victorian England game where one would use each letter of the alphabet in this manner:
I love my love with an “A” because he’s _____.
I hate him because he’s _____.
He took me to the Sign of the _____.
And treated me with _____.
His name’s _____.
And he lives at _____.

The Wonkamobile, Wonkawash and all the carbonated drinks come from the 1970’s movie with Gene Wilder, as does the line, “Button, button, whose got the button?” The rest of that kinky scene is from me watching waaay too much Japanese animation. Also, this was an opportunity to finally use some of the thorough bathroom equipment that I had imagined the chocolatier possessing in another fan fiction I wrote entitled, “Cravings”. You can find all of the four chapters of that story at: www.adult-fanfiction.org
Who caught the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in the sound effects? If you didn't, allow me to point you in the direction of a real fun, classic movie that I'm sure Willy would enjoy as much as my four year old nephew did. Imagine if you will, a little over zealous boy who desperately wanted to show me how well he could dance along to the big scenes (and even used stuffed animals as props).
“I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep” is a famous line from Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Less Traveled. I think Willy Wonka has taken a lot of those.
Mr. Wonka's outfit is meant to be reticent of David Bowie's costume as "The Goblin King" in the movie Labyrinth.
The Secret Room is another real room inside of the factory according to advertisements designed under director Tim Burton. So is, the Fill By Mouth room. *ahem*
Charlie’s team and many of the names of the Oompa-loompas reflect a respect to Paganism. People of this religion commonly draw inspiration from nature and Greek/Roman Gods. The only worker addressed personally by the chocolatier is Doris: a name that is surprisingly of mythological origin. And what do ya know, the arrival of Charlie has ushered in a bit of feminism among the people!
Herald Soucree you are really onto something! I'm super pleased to inspire such thoughts along with the enjoyment of the sensuality in the tale. Yamscarf, Firelady, Liz, Miku, Hatii, and all those who reviewed really kept those creative juices flowing. Thank you.
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