Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Into the Factory	By : Mesopotamia Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 14041 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
WARNING: It gets kind of weird/twisted/whatever you want to call it/etc from here on. You’ve been warned. If you flame me, I can only assume you’ve continued reading and are just as twisted as I am but are too pussy to admit it. For the rest of you, enjoy. :-P

She knew this was a bad idea the second the fluffy pink door slammed shut behind her. She knew she had made a horrible mistake and now something terrible would surely happen and it was all her fault. At that moment, she had realized her naivete and even though she still followed him, having no other choice, she had a sinking feeling.
He was going to call her daddy. She just knew it! And Simon and her would both get in trouble and their allowances would be cut in half until next month. Such a horrendous thought made her shiver.
She looked up and noticed that as they walked, the man was looking at her with a most peculiar expression, but she shook it off. This man was of the business world and in her opinion, they were all pretty creepy.
He led her into a clear elevator which flung itself in a million different directions before it finally reached its destination.
“It takes you that long to reach a phone?” she asked him incredulously.
“Phone?” he gave her a strange look. “What phone? There are no phones in this factory, little girl. I do everything via Oompa-Loompa mail.”
“Oompa-Loompa mail?” one of her eyebrows quirked up.
“Yes, Oompa-Loompa mail,” he suddenly stuck out his chin and acted very proud. “It’s the most reliable way to get your messages heard and received, you know. And I’m the only one in the world who uses it.”
“That’s nice,” she muttered. “Hey, why is it so dark in here?”
“Because I forgot to turn on the lights,” Willy Wonka clapped twice and pale white light lit up the room. It revealed a room of mirrors with a round blue bed in the middle. “I always forget to turn on the light in this place.”
Laila was frozen in place and her mouth seemed to go dry suddenly. Her heart raced with fear and she slowly backed away from him. The elevator had somehow disappeared without her noticing and there were no visible doors in this room.
Just mirrors.
Lots and lots of mirrors.
But then she always had lots of mirrors in her rooms. She always did like to look at herself. And apparently so did this man because his deep blue eyes were set on her even as she backed away slowly. In the mirrors, she saw him watching her and she saw the frightened expression on her own face.
“M-Mr. Wonka?” she wanted to break this moment. It was just too......weird.
“What did you say your name was again?” he asked.
“I didn’t give you my name,” Laila shook her head, watching him cautiously. “It’s Laila Wellsworth. M-maybe you should be calling my father now. He might be worried, you know and he’s a very rich and powerful man.. I’m sure he could give you whatever you wanted if you just ask for it.”
“I’m sure he couldn’t,” the man smiled. “In fact, I’m perfectly sure he couldn’t. Ew!” He shook himself in disgust and regained his posture.
Before he could say anything else, Laila asked, “Where is my brother?”
“Oh, around the factory,” he waved his hand in a dismissing manner and then clasped his hands together. “But let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Business?” Laila whispered. Her green eyes unable to hide the fear as he approached her, she cast her head down, hoping it would make him go away, but instead with one gloved purple finger under her chin, he raised her head up.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing this,” he giggled as he picked up her beret carefully with his gloved fingers and cast it aside.
“M-Mr. Wonka, this is highly inappropriate,” Laila tried to sound as though she had everything under control, but the smile on his face disconcerted her.
“Inappropriate?!” he grinned wider and then patted her head. “Why that’s a mighty large word for a seven year old!”
“I’m 16!” she cried. He paused for a moment and his eyes suddenly took in her developing form.
“Yes I can see that,” he said ever so softly and seemed to be lost in a strange day-dream-like state. When he came to, she was still standing there, confused and scared as ever. “This is taking a really long time, isn’t it? I mean, you’d think what with the new spiffy planners I got last month (made out of chocolate, you know) I’d be up to schedule but no, things never go as planned. Especially not here. But then perhaps I would keep better track of things if I didn’t keep eating the planners. Oh well, where were we? Ah, yes.”
He blew a whistle that seemed to come out of now where and suddenly little men appeared and grabbed her. It would have been at least less frightening if Willy Wonk had done it, but when a dozen or so strong little men rip off your clothing, it is ever so unpleasant. They then deposited her on the bed which molded around her form instantly. It was like landing in dough.....or marshmallow. As quickly as they came from nowhere, they disappeared and Laila was once again left alone with the strange man.
“This is sick!” she cried, tears of fear and humiliation welling in her eyes as she tried to shield herself from his piercing gaze. “You’re sick, Mr. Wonka!”
“That’s funny, I don’t feel very sick,” he said, looking slightly confused.
She sat on the bed, refusing to look at herself in the mirror, to see the cowering little girl, to see him coming closer behind her. She froze and tensed as she felt the touch of warm leather on her neck. He undid her bun and her raven hair spilled recklessly down her back.
Ignoring her frightened whimpers, he traced his gloved fingers down her back and undid her bra, looking at the mirrosr to admire how effortlessly the bra had slipped off and how full and tantalizing her breasts appeared to him. He lifted her slightly by the armpits, making sure she was now supporting herself on her knees, and massaged her breasts from behind, leaning down slightly to kiss and suck on her warm neck.
Laila opened both tear-blurred eyes to see the image reflected by many mirrors. Willy Wonka, top hat still sitting on top of his head (even though it was bent at an angle as his lips were busy with her neck), had his gloved purple hands completely covering and massaging her breasts as she leaned back on him slightly, her back arched, wearing only her black cotton panties.
He then started to slowly draw circles around her nipples, flicking them, rubbing them, and making her breathing harder and more labored and more tears escaped. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t make herself tear away even though she truly did not like what was happening. Or did she? No! Not at all! She hated every erotic moment of it!
Her pale cheeks grew flushed and she felt herself getting wetter every time his fingers touched her sensitive buds and prayed and hoped that he would stop. It was humiliating and scary and truth be told, just plain wrong. She had found her mother’s books about sex and she knew it was supposed to be enjoyable. And although it felt good (almost too good), it was still against her will and she wanted it to end. She just wanted to go home.
And what of her brother? What of Simon? Where was he in all of this? He was supposed to be protecting her and he was probably worried sick, running around the factory looking for her.
“Simon!” she cried out as loud as she could. “Simon help me!”
“Silly girl,” the strange man’s giggling voice cooed in her ear, “That’s not my name.” She cried out in pain as his index finger and thumb on both hands pinched hard on both nipples. It was frightening how his voice always stayed such a cheery tone, even when he was doing things like this to her.
“Please let me go,” she cried, tears running down her face, mascara running. “I just want to go home!”
“Shhhh,” he said soothingly and started to stroke her nipples tenderly. “Let’s not worry about things like that right now. Right now, we’re going to have some real fun!”
“We are?” she sniffed, rubbing her cheeks to get off the mascara. He continued to stroke her breasts and answered. “Uh-huh.”
“W-what kind of fun?” she asked, her voice small and shaky.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Willy Wonka answered cheerfully. “It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t think I’ve quite enjoyed your surprises so far, Mr.Wonka,” Laila let out a hushed sob.
“Oh, but you’ll enjoy this one,” he whispered close next to her ear. She suddenly froze as she felt his hand trail downwards, giving her butterflies in her stomach. It stopped at the rim of her panties and she held her breath as he slipped his hand in, cupping her heat and stroking the neatly trimmed patch of hair.
She blushed as he felt how wet she had become from his earlier ministrations and gasped, clutching him, as he massaged her clit slowly with one finger. He was still behind her, one hand on her breast and the other touching her intimately. She arched her back and cried out, writhing as he took her in between his thumb and index finger, slowly rolling and stroking and squeezing. Slowly he dragged his hand lower and inserted a bent finger inside of her, making her cry out even louder and move against it. Through all of this, she did not notice his erection pressed firmly against her back.
“Surprise!” Willy Wonka whispered as his thumb reached out to massage her clit. She cried out loudly as she came hard, hips jerking, writhing and gasping.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Into the Factory